Friday, April 16, 2010

Omega Mine

Writing Status - See Above
Mood - Nervous
Playing on itunes - nada

As you are aware, I'm currently penning Omega Mine. It's a dark paranormal romance and is the first in a series. I really wanted to write something unique in the genre and I hope this fits the bill.

If you're curious, I've put an excerpt below. Have a wonderful weekend!

Omega Mine Excerpt:

“We have to go, Pinkie. Get out and get dressed.”

When she didn’t argue, he found himself grateful for their bond for the first time. Human nature survived by questioning. Animalistic tendencies, on the other hand, took action and pondered later.

Sliding into the robe, she moved past him and hurried into the bedroom. She chose a black set of matching bra and panties and slid them on as he monitored the hall. All of the beasts under his skin answered the call, ready and willing to come forth to protect what they claimed as theirs. It was ironic that the one shifter who held the most power amongst their kind placed Ava in the most danger.

When Shepherds came to town, they started out small before going for the throat. And there was no better way to cut the oxygen supply than to extinguish the omega of the city.

Damn it. Why in the hell were they here? New York was a town the zealots rarely ventured to, a location that bred and endorsed violence, sex, and misery. Religion had no purpose in a city where gay pride, hedonism, and vulgarity were a given.

Ava stepped into her closet, tugged on a cord, and quickly chose a thin, bright blue v-neck sweater. She tugged it over her head and yanked a pair of jeans off an adjoining hanger. Her motions were frantic, her limbs trembling as her fingers jittered on the zipper.

Cursing, Diskant attempted to relax and calm the fuck down. His mate was teetering on the brink of something she didn’t fully understand and had no control over. Already, she felt the instinct to mate, to bring him into her body over and over again until he cemented their union. She would crave him incessantly, needing his touch, his presence. Adding to that by increasing her flight or flight instincts via their connection wasn’t helping.

“Grab the things you might need,” he instructed softly, attempting to remain focused and on alert. “I’m not sure how many days we’ll be gone.”

“Days?” She went still and studied him.

“I don’t have time to explain.” When she started to argue he allowed the importance of what was taking place to slip past, ensuring that at the very least, she was able to perceive the threat. “Please, Ava.”

Her face paled and she gave a jerky nod. She settled the hem of the sweater over her jeans and walked to the back of the closet. The compact duffel she collected was large in comparison to her, not as tall but nearly as wide.

At his questioning look, she explained, “I planned to make a trip to the cabin to unwind.”

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes.” She beside a neatly stacked shoe rack and grabbed a pair.

“Good, we need to go.”

No more arguments or hesitation. The instincts were growing, her bond with him guiding her reactions and responses. He didn’t have the luxury to reflect on the wrongness of their mating occurring like this, before there was a trust established that wasn’t the result of unavoidable changes taking place inside her mind, body, and soul.

He followed her from the closet and waited as she sat at the end of the bed to put her on her socks and shoes. His senses were sharp now, the shifter in him prepared to change in a hurry if necessary. Directly behind the urge to shift and protect was an undeniable amount of lust, and try as he might, it refused to abate. As natural was it was, the timing was all wrong. He hoped like hell that she’d be receptive to his advances once inside the safe house full of shifters. Sex to them wasn’t anything new, just another of life’s miraculous--and enjoyable--blessings. For her, there was certain to be a period of adjustment.

“I’m ready.”

She stood, retrieved the duffel, and moved closer to him. When he looked down at her, he saw the desire etched in her features. Her eyes were cloudy, her lips were slightly parted, and her cheeks were flushed. Their gazes caught and her breathing increased, her succulent nipples going hard beneath her bra and shirt, informing him she was more than game for another round of anything he wanted to offer her.

Fuck, if the Shepherds didn’t piss him off. He had finally found his mate, the only female who would ever sate him entirely, and he was being forced to leave her bereft and needy.

“Soon, baby,” he vowed and took the duffel from her.

Her eyes widened and she looked away. It was embarrassment, he realized. While natural to his kind, the yearning and need to couple often was foreign to her.

“It’s going to be all right, Ava mine.” Placing a hand at the small of her back, he gave her a gentle nudge. “Trust me.”

After collecting her purse and keys, they locked up and started the trek down the stairs. He kept her directly in front of him, his eyes alert, nose sharp. The blare of televisions in various apartments merged, along with multiple conversations and, in the distance, the sounds of an ecstatic couple nearing sexual bliss. He tamped down his own need as the image of Pinkie on the counter assailed him, mentally cursing his cock as it slowly rose to life. His mate wasn’t the only one that wanted to cement their union. Ever since he’d gotten a taste of the minx between the sheets, he’d been behaving like a teenager that had only recently discovered the new joystick between his legs that could be manipulated by a flick of the wrist and a firm grip.

The distraction was the reason he didn’t immediately scent the dangerous fragrance of incense the moment he opened the glass door to the building. One moment, he and Ava were alone. The next, Shepherds surrounded them, five of them total. Their weapons gleamed bright in the streetlights as they lifted them into the air, the long, polished steel barrels displaying the etched bible reference, “John 10:9.”

I am the door. By me, if any man enter in, he shall be saved.

There was only reason the men in brown dusters and matching Stetsons didn’t fire --
their guns were already out, armed and at the ready -- and it had nothing to do with bringing unnecessary attention. They didn’t want to hit any of the random passersby who froze in alarm and watched silently.

“You know why we’re here,” the largest one addressed Diskant and leveled his obsidian firearm; his arm, hand, and trigger finger nice and steady. “Where is he?”


Jamie D. said...

Well? Where's the rest? LOL

Great job - and fascinating story. Color me hooked...

Madelyn Ford said...

You can't leave me hanging like that. It's not nice. :)

Totally excited for more!

Kaye Manro said...

So very intriguing, Jaime. Great hook at the end of the excerpt too.