Eden Winters's Blog, page 96
March 13, 2010
Flame
Today Torquere Press released another Sip, called Flame:
After he's rescued from certain death by a mysterious, silver-haired warrior who is more than he seems, Kai finds life suddenly taking a turn for the better, for in Rayken he finds all he’s ever wished for.
When a cruel twist of fate robs him of his love, the tables turn, and it’s now up to Kai to save the fearless warrior. Can he and Rayken survive to be together?
Here's a snippet from the story:
Kai’s tunic was still wet from a dip in the stream, and he hastily tore a piece loose to cover his mouth and nose. The fire roared beneath him, heating the boards upon which he sat. The smoke stung his eyes and lungs, and his body was wracked with hacking coughs. All he could see were flames. Tears trickled from his eyes as he realized that never again would he fish in the stream or share a quiet meal with his grandmother. He said a quick prayer that the smoke would take him before the flames did.
Resigned now, he removed the cloth from his mouth, closed his eyes, and prepared to take a deep breath of the acrid smoke, hoping to hurry his end before the fire reached him. Then, like a vision, he saw a man's head top the loft, hair aflame, though the man seemed oblivious of the fire. The stranger stepped from the ladder to stand before him, naked, save for the flames that danced around his body. Far from burning him, however, they caressed his skin like Kai's grandmother would her pet cat. A hand extended to him.
"Come," the stranger said. "Do not be afraid, the flames are my friend. They'll not harm you if you're with me."
Though Kai was scared, the man offered his only hope, so he placed his hand in the outstretched palm that was easily twice the size of his own.
Available from Torquere Press: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.ph...
After he's rescued from certain death by a mysterious, silver-haired warrior who is more than he seems, Kai finds life suddenly taking a turn for the better, for in Rayken he finds all he’s ever wished for.
When a cruel twist of fate robs him of his love, the tables turn, and it’s now up to Kai to save the fearless warrior. Can he and Rayken survive to be together?
Here's a snippet from the story:
Kai’s tunic was still wet from a dip in the stream, and he hastily tore a piece loose to cover his mouth and nose. The fire roared beneath him, heating the boards upon which he sat. The smoke stung his eyes and lungs, and his body was wracked with hacking coughs. All he could see were flames. Tears trickled from his eyes as he realized that never again would he fish in the stream or share a quiet meal with his grandmother. He said a quick prayer that the smoke would take him before the flames did.
Resigned now, he removed the cloth from his mouth, closed his eyes, and prepared to take a deep breath of the acrid smoke, hoping to hurry his end before the fire reached him. Then, like a vision, he saw a man's head top the loft, hair aflame, though the man seemed oblivious of the fire. The stranger stepped from the ladder to stand before him, naked, save for the flames that danced around his body. Far from burning him, however, they caressed his skin like Kai's grandmother would her pet cat. A hand extended to him.
"Come," the stranger said. "Do not be afraid, the flames are my friend. They'll not harm you if you're with me."
Though Kai was scared, the man offered his only hope, so he placed his hand in the outstretched palm that was easily twice the size of his own.
Available from Torquere Press: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.ph...
March 1, 2010
Author Extra for Valentine Wish
If you've read Valentine Wish, then you know there was a reference to banana sandwiches. To those of you who haven't read it, I warn you that it is m/m, but not explicit. Here's the missing scene:
“No, not that one.”
Thierry moved his hand from the firm banana he was about to pick from the bunch. “Why not?” he asked. “Look at it! It’s perfect. Perfect bananas like that inspire me to add Bananas Foster to tonight’s menu.” He looked at Anton in genuine confusion.
Anton smiled, his teeth gleaming white against his dark skin. “Sometimes, ‘perfect’ isn’t what you need.” Anton plucked an overripe banana and held it out. Even without giving it a good squeeze Thierry could tell it wasn’t firm. Furthermore, black spots marred the skin. He watched, fascinated, as his lover’s large hands gently peeled the banana. It broke into pieces and fell onto the plate Anton had placed on the counter.
“But there’s plenty of better ones,” Thierry pointed out, gazing down at the mushy fruit.
Anton smiled. “This one is just right,” he said. He took a fork and scraped the black spots away, then began mashing what was left over. Overripe banana oozed through the fork’s tines. When the fruit had been reduced to a shapeless, unappetizing mess, Anton added heaping spoonfuls of peanut butter and blended thoroughly. The mixture was spread on two slices of bread, then each topped with an additional piece. One of the sandwiches he gave to Thierry, the other he kept for himself. Thierry cast wary glances at his until Anton laughed.
“Trust me,” Anton said before taking a bite. He moaned like it was the finest meal he’d ever eaten.
Thierry, still skeptical, took a tentative taste, chewing thoughtfully. “This is good!”
Anton put his sandwich on the plate before placing his hands on Thierry’s shoulders and gazing into his eyes. “Those other bananas might look better, but they don’t mash easy or mix as well, and they ain’t as sweet,” he explained. “Grandma didn’t have a lot, so she made do. Old potatoes made soup, old carrots made cake, old bananas…”
Thierry recalled what Anton had told him the night before. “And old bananas became a treat for a grandson.”
Anton smiled and nodded, his dreadlocks rustling against the collar of his shirt.
“But you no longer have to live like that,” Thierry said. “You can afford not to.”
“That’s not the point,” Anton replied. “My grandma would bust me one if I was wasteful. ‘Make it do, or do without,’ she always said. Besides, it wouldn’t taste like Grandma’s with a fresh banana.”
“This is true,” Thierry said, thinking of his own Grandmere and her frugal ways, and then of how his ex-lover, Victor, had called him worthless. To Victor he was fat and useless, but the look in Anton’s dark brown eyes told another story. Anton looked at him as though he was the most beautiful thing in the world. The lesson his lover was trying to teach hit home. “One man’s trash is another man’s banana sandwich,” Thierry concluded.
Anton’s full lips brushed Thierry’s lightly. “That it is,” he said, “that it is.”
“No, not that one.”
Thierry moved his hand from the firm banana he was about to pick from the bunch. “Why not?” he asked. “Look at it! It’s perfect. Perfect bananas like that inspire me to add Bananas Foster to tonight’s menu.” He looked at Anton in genuine confusion.
Anton smiled, his teeth gleaming white against his dark skin. “Sometimes, ‘perfect’ isn’t what you need.” Anton plucked an overripe banana and held it out. Even without giving it a good squeeze Thierry could tell it wasn’t firm. Furthermore, black spots marred the skin. He watched, fascinated, as his lover’s large hands gently peeled the banana. It broke into pieces and fell onto the plate Anton had placed on the counter.
“But there’s plenty of better ones,” Thierry pointed out, gazing down at the mushy fruit.
Anton smiled. “This one is just right,” he said. He took a fork and scraped the black spots away, then began mashing what was left over. Overripe banana oozed through the fork’s tines. When the fruit had been reduced to a shapeless, unappetizing mess, Anton added heaping spoonfuls of peanut butter and blended thoroughly. The mixture was spread on two slices of bread, then each topped with an additional piece. One of the sandwiches he gave to Thierry, the other he kept for himself. Thierry cast wary glances at his until Anton laughed.
“Trust me,” Anton said before taking a bite. He moaned like it was the finest meal he’d ever eaten.
Thierry, still skeptical, took a tentative taste, chewing thoughtfully. “This is good!”
Anton put his sandwich on the plate before placing his hands on Thierry’s shoulders and gazing into his eyes. “Those other bananas might look better, but they don’t mash easy or mix as well, and they ain’t as sweet,” he explained. “Grandma didn’t have a lot, so she made do. Old potatoes made soup, old carrots made cake, old bananas…”
Thierry recalled what Anton had told him the night before. “And old bananas became a treat for a grandson.”
Anton smiled and nodded, his dreadlocks rustling against the collar of his shirt.
“But you no longer have to live like that,” Thierry said. “You can afford not to.”
“That’s not the point,” Anton replied. “My grandma would bust me one if I was wasteful. ‘Make it do, or do without,’ she always said. Besides, it wouldn’t taste like Grandma’s with a fresh banana.”
“This is true,” Thierry said, thinking of his own Grandmere and her frugal ways, and then of how his ex-lover, Victor, had called him worthless. To Victor he was fat and useless, but the look in Anton’s dark brown eyes told another story. Anton looked at him as though he was the most beautiful thing in the world. The lesson his lover was trying to teach hit home. “One man’s trash is another man’s banana sandwich,” Thierry concluded.
Anton’s full lips brushed Thierry’s lightly. “That it is,” he said, “that it is.”
