Finding the cure for glitter rash one vampire at a time...

Monday, October 4, 2010

5 Days More...

Hello out there, my lovelies.  I  had a fantastic time at the beach for a little mini-vacation.  I even managed to get a little work done on the newest project.  All I can say is that there are voodoo spirits involved.  I seem to lack direction lately-- but I think I may be able to settle on this for a while.  My beastie says that I'm having this problem because I'm worried about the book release.  Which is probably true.  That being said... I owe you all some more teasing....


On the other side of the door, Saraqael hadn’t moved an inch.  He listened as she began filling up the bathtub and smiled, glad that she trusted him enough for the time being to stay the night.  The door was old and it wasn’t unusual for the damn thing to slip off the fastener and fall open.  As if by Divine intervention, it creaked open , allowing Saraqael to see inside.  He started, thinking that she was sure to notice that the door had opened.  His hand closed over the knob and he started to close it again , but as the steam began curling out through the crack, he could see the silhouette of her shoulder.  Her skin was pale and unblemished there, so much in fact, that, for a split second, Saraqael was sure that she was an angel, too.  He followed the line upward along the back of her neck to the tiny curled locks at the base of her head.  She reached back and grasped the end of her braid.  She pulled it  until her reddish hair tumbled down over her shoulders.  She shook it out, and stretched.  
He watched intently as her hands slid down her body and over her hips.  His eyes followed the gentle slope of her pelvis and down her leg.   His brain kept telling him to close the door, but he found that his body was disobeying.   It was a feeling that he couldn’t quite place.  Something primal that he’d never felt. A hunger that he knew would never be sated.  Something human.  His eyes drank her in greedily and he was desperate for more when she stepped to one side and the steam enveloped her again.  His fist clenched and released at his side as if he were fighting to keep from throwing the door open to go inside and touch her.  
         “Pipe down, Angel-boy,” he growled to himself, bringing his fist against his thigh as hard as he could.  The sharp bite of pain was enough to break the spell and he closed the door again as quietly as he could.  He leaned against it , trying to clear the haze of very human lust from his head.  “That’s not for you,” he chanted to himself, closing his eyes and remembering his promise.