Six Sentence Sunday 11-27-11

 Aidon throws a dinner party for two uninvited live dudes who have sneaked into his subterranean realm to court his new bride. Not only is he serving them underworld food, but he's got another surprise in store. Wasn’t your Thanksgiving table just like this?

          “What are you going to do to them, Aidon?”

          Stephanie nods toward the pair of weeping dingbats.

          Percy munches a flaky biscuit, the waterworks running all the while, unware that the more he eats, the more uncontrollable his tears. Theo slurps a delicate lemon-asparagus soup and tries to pull his seat closer to the table, unconscious of the chamois-covered manacles clamped around his calves, or that the only direction he's moving is down. The polished floor tile beneath the suitors’ chairs recesses again, lowering them another inch or so on their way to Tartarus.

          “What do you want me to do, Steph?”

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Six Sentence Sunday 11-20-11

An idea for Cloud Boy's story (he's Surfer Dude's baby brother) has arrived like Athena bursting forth from Zeus's brow. So in honor of that plot bunny, here's six from the story of their big brother Aidon, The Reaper, and hero of my heart.  (One day, Aidon, I will find you a worthy home.)    

            “Listen, you big lug,” I murmur, gasping for air when his lips release mine.  “You’ve brought me Below, turned my whole world upside down – and  I haven’t done anything to you.”

            “My world isn’t exactly spinning normally on its axis, Stef.”

            "But I --" The Big Guy's stunning admission shakes me to the core. "Really?"

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Six Sentence Sunday 11-07-10

         A few weeks ago, I offered a glimpse from Aidon's POV.  Here's Stephanie's. From my currently-being-revised WIP, Pomegranate Seeds.

          This guy puts his brothers--none of them slouches in the hot hunk department--in the shade. Even unconscious, his power beams off him with the force of a gazillion giga-watts, like the energy generated by an exploding sun. My fingers itch to stroke through this unbelievable stud muffin's thatch of midnight hair, to rip the linen shirt off his thick, muscular shoulders and wander across his toned six-pack--despite the broken arrow shaft jutting from his chest.
         He murmurs something in a voice that throbs through me, ramping up my excitement, his hard, sensual mouth curving in a smile so sexy I wonder if my knees will actually buckle, if I'll actually fall on top of him. I know he's doped up with lust-poison but the idea of us tangled together in an ecstatic fever of sweaty limbs makes my pulse speed up as if I'm the one who took Coop's arrow in the heart.
        I am such a goner.

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Six Sentence Sunday: 10-17-2010

      I'm returning to Pomegranate Seeds, my paranormal WIP, and playing with the beginning. There are parts of this story I love more than anything else I've ever written. But I know I need to get to Steph sooner. So, much as I love that the first time we see her is the first time Aidon sees her,  I'm slashing and burning and writing her a new little B.A. (Before Aidon) part, around page 3 or so. But I'm keeping the meet. And, at least for now, the first person, present tense narrative.
       So here's Aidon, one of my favorite heroes ever, felled, flat on his ass, gazing up at Steph, awash in love juice and baffled and befuddled. (Well, maybe not totally.)

       (Ten sentences smashed into six for Six Sentence Sunday. You can probably tell where they were soldered together. Or where overly creative punctuation was employed. Won't stay that way!)

       Testosterone sloshes through me and passions of every stripe, formerly without power, inflame me. Emotions I’d thought long dead and buried erupt like a fireworks display and I’m ready to leap up, naked, wounded, unarmed but belligerent, screaming for satisfaction. War, sex. My id’s in masculine overdrive; my inner hound howls.
      I need to have her. 
     Now.

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