Arguing over Colin

This is yet another argument our two beings are having, in which Cian shares some interesting facts with Aiden about their Mr. Colin O’Brian:

“Watch yourself, Uncle, you arrogant bastard.” Cian came closer. “The farmhand told me some very interesting things about our Mr. O’Brian.”

“Like what?”

Cian shrugged. “Like the fact that his wife divorced him because she caught him in their bed with the stable hand.”

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Craig Meets Phitz

This is a scene from Talk Of The Town where Craig is still mooning over Carl and their first time together. He goes to catch a cab and meets a rather intriguing young man–

 

There were no cabs when Craig finally got to the stop, but there was another passenger waiting.  He was a man a little older than Carl‘s human age, with bright red hair in a short ponytail. He wore a light, cream colored casual suit, sunglasses and soft black leather gloves, and was sheltering himself under a large black umbrella.  He turned when he heard Craig approach.

“You’re Craig Hanson, right?” the man said.  “I watch your show whenever I can, it’s really entertaining.”  Craig smiled, automatically turning on the charrm.

“It’s always nice to meet a fan,”  he said, and stuck out his hand.  “Call me Craig, please.” The man pulled away.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t shake hands with somebody that has the mark unless they’re related.  I’m not strong enough yet.”  The man smiled.  “My name’s Eoin Fitzhugh–Phitz to my friends.” Craig was startled.

“How did you know about the mark?  Are you a–a vampire?”  He caught a familiar scent coming from him, and recognized the smell of sunblock.      Phitz smiled as he hailed a cab that was pulling up to the stop.

“First, it’s part of my nature to know. And yes, I’m one of the creepy undead.”

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Up His Alley

For my snippet, I decided to post six sentences from the one and only flash fiction I ever did–Up His Alley, with a fellow writer supplying the first sentence and the yummy pic ❤ and also the raunchiest thing I ever wrote, too. the full story is on my blog 🙂

Really, I’m serious. I just went into the alley to take a leak; the line for the bathroom was so long and I couldn’t hold it. I was alone out there…or so I thought, until I finished my business and turned around. He was standing under the light, by the back door of the bar. He must have followed me out. What he wanted was so obvious.brad's alley

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Thomas’ Dream

Here’s a clip from the last chapter in Las Vegas Circle; Thomas has just risen from his rest, where he’s dreamed of Edgar. He misses him terribly still–

“Edgar!”

 

I wake up like I always do these days…clutching my medicine bag, with his name on my lips.

I should have been waking up beside him; I’m so fucking tired of waking up alone.  I shake it off and get out of bed.  I stand in the middle of the floor, my head back, eyes closed, trying like hell to get it together so I can do my damn job.

I shuffle into the kitchen and see what’s in the fridge, then start getting ready for my shift at the station. I hope like hell that Charles found something out about our case, because we need to get this going before he has to go back, and I need to get Edgar out of my head.

Who am I kidding? If I get him out of my head, I’ll just replace him with Charles.

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Aiden and Colin

This is from the last past chapter–almost finished 🙂 Aiden and Cian meet their last mark…

 

Cian opened his mouth to reply, and immediately closed it again. Aiden followed his gaze to find out what had wrought the miracle of making Cian silent—

–and became silent himself.

Standing in the entrance to the library was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man that Aiden had ever known existed. His rich mahogany hued hair touched his collar in soft waves, and his liquid brown eyes regarded both of them with interest.

..and that mouth, Aiden thought. If he would have had enough breath, he would have sighed it out, but he had to reserve it for talking. His full lips were softly parted with the softest of red tints, as if he were the nightwalker instead of them.

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My muse for Colin ❤

School-Hairstyles-for-boys_01

Family Matters

Here’s a snippet from Family Matters, in which Phitz finally gets to find out a little more about his mother–hopefully–he’s made some inquiries at an old convent, her last known place of residence, and has been greeted by the housekeeper.

“I’ll be right back,” she said as she disappeared down the hall.

Nodding, Phitz walked over to the mantle and examined the ceramic animals and angels, all wearing a thick coating of dust.  Some housekeeper, he though with a sardonic grin. He looked at the end tables, the walls–no clocks.  That was odd.  There weren’t any mirrors, either, but he supposed nuns didn’t have much need of mirrors.  One of the seven deadly sins, maybe.

Phitz looked around at the sound of rattling china as the housekeeper came back into the sitting room with a large tray, headed toward the coffee table.

“I’ll just set these tea things right here–do you take cream or sugar?” she said.

“Nothing, thanks–I’ll just take it plain,”

She made an answering laugh and started to pour the tea. She handed Phitz his cup and saucer, sitting down in the easy chair opposite him.

“Where’s your tea, Ma‘am?” he asked.

“Oh, I’ve had plenty of tea today.” she said with a smile.  “I’ll just sit and watch you enjoy yours.”  Phitz set the cup and saucer down on the table.

“Well, what can you tell me about my mother?”

She gave a small smile, full of mystery.

“Everything.”

 

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Aiden’s Car

This is a snippet from Chicago Circle about one of Aiden’s toys–

I take that huge pump bottle of sunblock and rub it on, paying special attention to my face and hands, then slipping the shirt and pants on. I shove moccasins on my feet and call it good, then grab my dark glasses and wide brimmed hat before I leave the safety of my humble domain for the attached garage where my car sits waiting. It’s been a long time since I drove, but I can’t very well ask Marco to disapparate out of the hospital, now can I?

“Ah, my fine pretty,” I croon as I gently stroke its fine surface, the muted onyx shine of the paint seducing me yet again. I bought this car when they first came out, and it’s worth a sight more now than it was then—a 1965 Mustang V8, triple black of course, just waiting for the times when I can take her out after sunset for a clandestine spin.

I guess I must be a little bit attached to the color black.

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