So I would like to share with you an excerpt from "Homecoming". This is unedited version, please bear with me. :)
Words
died on her lips as her head jerked up. Familiar green eyes glared down at her.
And those lips carved into a hard line on an equally hard face! The bottom one was
fuller than the upper lip, his jaw covered in a day-old stubble. The body was completely
different from the one she remembered. The gangly, somewhat awkward boy she’d
left back home was gone and in his place, a six foot five well muscled, broad
shouldered male. His hair was cropped close to the scalp. His upper body was draped
in a black knee—length coat, parted to reveal a white shirt, and a lime green buttoned
up double-breasted vest that enhanced his eye colour. Strong thighs wrapped in brown tight, buckskin
trousers and black knee-length boots. And that face, sweet mother of all Saints!
It resembled one carved out of marble the colour of honey. All hard planes and
angles, right now edge with fury.
The
floor of her stomach gave way and her heart plunged to her toes.
Those
damn hinges squealed as the door clicked shut, jerking her from her perusal.
The adrenaline that had acted as fuel before, drained as she stared into
furious green eyes, more panther than human.
“Going
somewhere, my runaway mate?”
Oh
dear saint of love! His voice had changed and was more deeper, rougher, and
this moment, reminding her of the
troubled sea with a storm brewing on the horizon.
“Levian.”
At
least her voice sounded confident. Not her heart though. The poor organ was beating
wildly in her chest threatening to kill her before her seething mate got his
large hands around her neck.
“Please
come in.” Her mind grappled, searching for another escape route. None came to
mind.
“Excellent,”
he said, tilting his head gracefully to the side, and stepped inside the shop,
his shoulders blocking anything beyond her line of sight. “I see you are in
good health.”
He
took a step forward, she took one back. He took another and she followed suit,
it became a dance of sorts until she felt something dig into her tailbone.
She’d hit the furthest shelf in the deepest part of the book shop.
Panic became a living thing.
Panic became a living thing.
During the first year after she arrived in
Varselles, she’d nearly driven herself to destruction, glancing over her
shoulder every time. One year later, she’d stopped, knowing she’d succeeded in
hiding well. She never bothered with a contingency plan. Staring into those
glowing green eyes, she wondered at her stupidity.
She
watched as he halted, slowly slid the leather gloves from his hands as if he
had all the time in the world, then shoved them in his coat pocket. He flexed
his fingers, his gaze roving her face, then settled for staring into her eyes.
A series of emotions played across his face. What was he thinking? Other than
probably strangling the daylights out of her?
His eyes dropped to her mouth, his nostrils flared, eyes dilating. Well, now she knew what he was thinking about. Her tongue snuck out to wet her lips, grappling for words—any words— to keep the tension which was now a living, breathing thing, from swallowing her whole.
His eyes dropped to her mouth, his nostrils flared, eyes dilating. Well, now she knew what he was thinking about. Her tongue snuck out to wet her lips, grappling for words—any words— to keep the tension which was now a living, breathing thing, from swallowing her whole.
The
past few years she’d dreamed of the day he’d look at her like this again—minus
the fury simmering in his eyes.
But now, with everything just hanging in the
air—
He
swallowed the inch of space between them and she tensed, at the same time
swimming in his scent: like leather and that special soap he was fond of with
its citrusy smell. His scent was rooted inside every little crevice in her
body.
“You
are not about to run off again, are you, Sera?” Hearing her name spoken in that voice and
those lips had her stomach clench and heat up at the same time.
Damn it! Why was her tongue stuck on the
roof of her mouth? She was The Storm.
She wasn’t famous for being scared easily. Now she was treading the “unknown territory” and it made her want to
flee at the same time, fling herself onto the hard body of her mate and just
let nature take its course.
Calloused
hands gripped her upper arms.
She
tensed, but let the warmth seep into her skin. “We have to talk.”
He
cocked a brow at her. “You don’t say.”
He
brushed her cheeks with his knuckles, tracing her throat with his fingertips,
and when he they skated the spot on her
nose that was dented, a souvenir from her first fight four years ago in her first
fight in The Rings, she wasn’t sure she was breathing anymore. His hands slid
lower to unhook her bag from her shoulder and tossed it on the closest table
where it landed with a loud thud.
Without
warning, his hand moved up to cup her neck firm, leaned down and buried his
face into her neck, sniffing long and hard until she felt as if he’d breathed
in every trace of her scent into his body.
“You
still have my scent. Deep in your veins.” He sounded smug, satisfied.
