It’s WipItUp Wednesday! Which mean’s we’re WIPping it up all over the web.
My next book isn’t due out until Feb/March and while I will be giving you snippets from it, not until closer to the release date. So, what shall I share? How about a paragraph or two from a paranormal M/M story I’m working on? It has no title.
Striding down the alleyway, Leland was only barely cognizant of the sounds around him. After all, there was nothing that could hurt him here. Not anymore. He was intent on scent. One particular scent, actually. Among the unpleasant smells of bile, feces, and the invocative scent of sex, was cinnamon bark with a trace of lavender and of course, the overriding alcohol stench that clung to anyone spending time in this part of the city. Adrenaline shot through his system as he sensed the male he had come to finish off. His prey was near and this time it would die for good.
Reaching the end of the alleyway, his eternal eyes took in the small round area in front of him surrounded by seven-story buildings and chain-link fencing. There was very little in the opening except two passed-out winos and a garbage can that was overflowing with rotting carcasses. And of course, the large tawny cat lying by the fence with a dead rat in its paws. It flicked its tail at him as he took a step forward.
“Leland,” the cat purred, chuckling deeply. “It’s been awhile, my friend.”
“True,” Leland agreed, the thick brogue in his voice still noticeable even after all this time. “I believe it has been three hundred years since I last dispatched you, Denag.”
Shrugging, Denag took a bite out of his rat, chomping on it, crushing the bones and swallowing before he spoke. “I’m guessing the council sent you.”
“More like…I offered,” Leland said, leaning against the nearest wall, keeping his alert eyes on the cat in front of him. Denag might look as though he was relaxed, but after over twelve-hundred years of tracking and killing the slippery feline, Leland knew his prey was going over all of his options quickly.
“Offered?” Denag said in surprise, his furry face pulling back. “That’s a little below you, isn’t it? Surely you cannot still be harboring a grudge? That was over three thousand years ago!” he snarled, leaping to his feet. “Leave it to an Irish whelp to hold eternity against me. I did you a favor!”
And now on with more WIP’ness 🙂