Nancy Straight's Blog - Posts Tagged "mythology"
Sneak Peek: Blood Debt's First Chapter
Hello! Today was the day I was supposed to unveil Blood Debt’s cover – I’m sorry to say that won’t be possible. Dreamscape Covers did such a great job with the Destiny Series that I wanted them to also do the Touched Series. Unfortunately, she’s a little backed up and Blood Debt’s cover won’t be ready for another couple weeks. *Sigh* I’m sure it will be fabulous and I should be able to post it around the first of June.
So rather than spin my wheels for a couple weeks and leave you all hanging, I thought I’d let you all have a sneak peek at the first chapter of Blood Debt. I hope you like it!!
Blood Debt: Chapter 1 (Scheduled release July 15, 2012)
Camille
I stared at the phone. I had his number. I had his name. Twenty-two years. . . after twenty-two stinking years of fantasizing about who he was, what he was like, where he was - you’d think I would have dialed by now. The thing is - nobody, anywhere, could live up to my expectations. I’d always envisioned this successful, educated, lead-singer, movie-star, rich, kind of father. It was great to think that he was this wonderful, benevolent man, who one day would swoop in and introduce himself, then whisk me away in a limo. Yeah, that never happened.
I can’t think of a time when I wasn’t dying to meet him. When I would ask my mom, she would always tell me, “Your father was a wonderful man. We had a few magical days together, and he left me with the most amazing gift to remember him by.” Sure, that’s what a ten year old wants to hear. She would never tell me his name, where he lived, or anything about him other than he didn’t live in California.
It didn’t matter how hard I pleaded, I think she preferred that he be a mystery. Who would have guessed all those times I said I would trade anything to meet him, I never thought I’d trade my rock, my anchor. . . my mom. Ten minutes before she took her last breath, she grabbed my hand and choked out, “Your father. . .lives in Charleston, SC. His name is William Strayer. He deserves to know you. Tell him . . . tell him I said, ‘Goodbye.’”
A few breaths later, she slipped away as death carried her to her final peace. I cried for weeks. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t process losing my mom and getting the information I’d been begging her for my whole life in the span of ten minutes. All those wagers I’d tried to make with God, to find out who he was: I’d told God I would trade anything - I never meant my mom. I’m not crazy enough to think that God had stolen my mom just so I could find out who my father was, but I had several weeks of erratic thoughts.
I googled him. He was easy to find. He’d been in the same house, in the same job, for better than thirty years. Everything I found out about him on the internet pointed to an average guy, with an average life. He wasn’t a rock star. He wasn’t famous. He wasn’t dead.
I took one final breath, steadying myself. I had my phone in one hand and the slip of paper with all his information on my lap. I dialed the number, wondering what I was going to say to him. Before I could press “send,” I chickened out and went back to mom’s bedroom to go through more of her things. Peggy, my mom’s closest and only friend, had offered to come over and help me, but I was twenty-two. I shouldn’t need help with this. Even if Peggy was her best-friend, I knew mom wouldn’t want her going through her things. My mom had always been a private person.
Mom knew it was coming. It wasn’t a surprise or anything. She’d been sick for a long time. Her closet, that normally looked crammed with outfits from the last several decades, wasn’t as packed as the last time I’d seen it. Mom must have gone through some of her things before she died because the walk-in closet could actually be walked into.
Tucked in the far back corner, on a shelf, was a treasure box of sorts: a wooden box with the key inserted into the lock. Whatever was inside, Mom wanted me to see it. I found yellowing movie ticket stubs for a title I’d never heard of, an airline ticket from twenty eight years ago, and a tourist shot glass from the Crazy Horse Monument in South Dakota. It seemed an odd set of treasures for her to have hidden away. I looked at the old plane ticket: it was for an Angela Chiron - no one I knew. I gently closed the wooden box after I’d returned her “treasures,” to their resting place. As I stared at sequined sweaters, stretch pants, dress slacks and dresses, I found myself wanting to make that phone call far more than I wanted to go through my mom’s life.
William. Did he even know I existed? He probably had a family of his own. What would they think of me? It had always been just my mom and me. She didn’t have any family, at least other than me. Her parents died when she was young, and she’d been an only child. I think her final gift to me – my father’s identity - was her way of not leaving me so alone in the world.
I went back to the living room, sat on the sofa and put my feet up on the coffee table, almost begging Mom to walk in the room and tell me to get my feet off of it. A lonely tear rolled down my cheek. No one would be walking through the doorway to tell me to put my feet down. I hated the idea of being alone.
I took one more deep breath, picked up the slip of paper, and dialed his number again. This time my shaking fingers pushed “Send.”
A woman’s voice picked up the phone, “Hello.”
I stammered, terrified of this call, not sure what to say to the woman. “Uh . . . hi . . . is William there?”
“Who’s calling?”
“Camille.”
“Camille, is this a sales call?”
“Uh, no. Definitely, no. Is William home?”
“Just a minute.”
I could only assume that had been William’s wife. I wanted to hang up. I saw my hand shaking and prayed that I wouldn’t have full blown convulsions. I had practiced this phone call several times, but realized I should have written things down. My fear began crippling me, and I drew a blank. What would I say? ‘I’m your love child from twenty-three years ago and wanted to say hi.’ Not the best approach.
I heard a gruff voice come on the line, “Hello, this is Will.”
My voice didn’t work. My mouth opened but nothing came out.
“Hello, is anybody there?”
I cleared my throat, closed my eyes and answered, “Uh, yes. Hi, William. I’m Camille.”
A friendly voice responded, “Okay. Camille, who?”
“Right. I’m Angela Benning’s daughter.”
“Angela Benning? I’m still not making the connection. Are you sure you have the right William?”
“William Strayer from Charleston, South Carolina?”
“Yes.”
“You are the only one I found in information. Have you ever been to San Diego?”
“Well, yes. I travel there, but I don’t know an Angela Benning.”
“Not even one you knew twenty-three years ago?” Silence answered me back. I wasn’t sure if he had hung up the phone, if the connection had been dropped, or if he was too stunned to answer. “William, are you still there?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m still here. I did know an Angela in San Diego. She was a bartender in a hotel.”
“That’s right.”
“Camille, how old are you?”
I did have the right person and at least I didn’t have to draw the connection out for him with big purple crayons. “I’m twenty-two.”
More silence. This was a bad idea. I braced myself for him to deny he was my father, that I was some leech after him for money. His voice spoke softly, “Camille, I don’t know what to say. Your mother is an incredible woman.”
“Was.” I corrected, “She was an incredible woman.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. What happened?” Sincerity was wrapped in his voice.
“She died of breast cancer a few weeks ago. Right before she died, she told me how I could contact you.”
“So, you’re my. . . I mean she wouldn’t have . . . if you weren’t mine.”
I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “Right. I don’t need anything. I just . . . I guess I wanted to talk to you.”
“Camille, you have to believe me, if I had known I would have . . . I didn’t know I had a daughter.”
“That’s okay, William. I knew I had a father – I mean from a biological perspective. But Mom would never tell me anything about you, well, not until the night she died.”
His voice sounded heavy, “Call me, Will, everyone does. So, she didn’t want you to contact me?”
“I guess not, well . . . she never told me anything about you. I never knew your name until the night she passed.”
I heard hopefulness in his voice I didn’t expect when he said, “When can I meet you?”
This was a question I wasn’t really prepared for. All those practice conversations had more to do with introducing myself and convincing him that I was his daughter. I thought I had prepared for every possible response. I never considered that he would want to meet me. “Uh, maybe the next time you come to California?”
“Camille, I’ve got a lot going on for the next month. Getting out to the west coast would be hard. Would you consider flying to South Carolina?”
My heart started doing cartwheels. Not only did I have a real father - he wanted to see me! Trying not to gush at his suggestion, “Um, maybe. I’ve got a bunch of stuff I’ve got to take care of. You know, estate stuff for Mom, and a job.”
“I could arrange for a lawyer to take care of that for you. Camille, I don’t want to put this off. I . . . I could make arrangements now. You could be on the red eye tonight.”
“Will, you don’t know anything about me. I’ve got a job. I can’t just get on a plane.”
“You’re my blood, Camille. Angela was a magical woman, I . . . I had no idea. If you can’t come to me, I’ll juggle some things around. I have to meet you.”
Huh, that’s the same thing mom had said about him. That he was “magical.” I had googled him a few days ago. I knew he was somehow involved with finance and investments and ran a firm in Charleston. Since my job was working at a department store as a cashier, reality was that it would be much easier for me to leave my job for a few days. As I looked around the apartment, there was too much of her here. Not that it was a bad thing, but given the last several months, it might be nice to have a change of scenery, for a few days.
I took a deep breath, “Okay, I can call into work and have someone cover my shifts. But I don’t have the cash for a plane ticket or motel or anything.”
“I’ll take care of it. How soon could you be on a plane?”
“I guess tonight, do you need to talk to your wife or anything?”
“Gretchen will be happy to have you as a guest. She’s always wanted a daughter as much as I have.” I felt a warm glow in my chest. The emptiness of losing my mom would stay with me forever, but I wasn’t alone. I had a father. We exchanged email addresses so we could coordinate the flight. I wondered if this was some sort of a dream. I had run a background investigation on him within days of finding out who he was.
All I really knew about him was: He paid his taxes, he owned several properties, he had never been arrested, and he hadn’t had a ticket or an accident in the last seven years.
I called my best friend in the world to let him know what had just happened. He was so excited for me that he was at my door within twenty minutes. Daniel was like the brother I never had. We looked enough alike that sometimes people assumed I was his sister. He had dark hair, kind of that in between length – it was short, but shaggy. His eyelashes were gorgeous, for a long time I teased him calling him “Maybeline Eyes,” and he had this way of looking at girls that made them all melt – well, all but me.
Daniel was on the surf team in high school and even got a scholarship to surf in college, so there was never a shortage of beach babes looking to hang out with him. We’d never been more than friends and I knew we both liked it that way. We each had a ready-made date for all the big social events, weddings, engagement parties, holiday parties, etc – but none of the romantic attachments that came with it.
Daniel gathered me in a large bear hug and swung me around. “You talked to him? He wants to meet you?”
“I did, he wasn’t freaked out about it or anything. He’s flying me to South Carolina, tonight, to meet him.”
Daniel’s enthusiasm diminished in front of me, “Tonight? Why the rush?”
I slapped his shoulder, “I’m his daughter. He wants to meet me.”
“Did he say why he never bothered to come see you?”
“I think my mom hid us from each other. He didn’t even know that I existed until I called.”
“Just like that, he wants you on a plane? What about a DNA test?”
“He didn’t ask for any proof. He said he remembered her.” I left out the part where he said she was magical – Daniel knew that’s what my mom said about him.
“That must have been some phone call. Are you sure he’s all right?”
“I’m not stupid. I did a background check.”
“That just means he’s never been caught.”
I punched Daniel’s arm a second time and he feigned pain. “I’m just saying, you don’t even know the guy. He could be a serial killer for all you know. There’s probably a reason your mom never let the two of you meet.”
“She told me who he was right before she died. She must have wanted me to find him.”
“Maybe. How about I go with you?”
“Um, I don’t know. I think this is something I have to do on my own, but keep your cell phone on you in case I need you.”
He frowned with his eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t like it. Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Stop worrying. I’ll be back on Sunday. If it gets weird, I’ll come back sooner.”
“If I don’t get a call every day, I’m getting on a plane.”
“Right, to fly to South Carolina and do what? I’ll be fine. He sounded nice.”
“You’ve wanted to meet this guy forever. Don’t get your hopes up. Angela was a smart lady. She must have kept you two apart for a reason.”
“Maybe she just didn’t want the hassle of sharing custody.” This was the lie I’d told myself when I was little. My mom never had boyfriends. She always told me her life was full, and she didn’t have room for one more person in it.
“Maybe, but maybe he’s a douche, and she didn’t want you to get hurt.”
My heart sunk. I didn’t have the strength to argue with him. I knew he was right. I knew mom hid his identity from me, but I didn’t care why.
Everyone needed family, no matter how weird they might be. I was willing to take a chance: one crazy father was better than nobody.
For the next fifteen hours, through two airports and the whole time I was in the air, Daniel’s words continued to echo in my mind, “She must have kept you two apart for a reason.” Why would she have kept us apart? Was she ashamed of him? What did he do that made her not want him in her life? She’d never, for as long as I could remember, had a boyfriend – had he done something to her?
So rather than spin my wheels for a couple weeks and leave you all hanging, I thought I’d let you all have a sneak peek at the first chapter of Blood Debt. I hope you like it!!
Blood Debt: Chapter 1 (Scheduled release July 15, 2012)
Camille
I stared at the phone. I had his number. I had his name. Twenty-two years. . . after twenty-two stinking years of fantasizing about who he was, what he was like, where he was - you’d think I would have dialed by now. The thing is - nobody, anywhere, could live up to my expectations. I’d always envisioned this successful, educated, lead-singer, movie-star, rich, kind of father. It was great to think that he was this wonderful, benevolent man, who one day would swoop in and introduce himself, then whisk me away in a limo. Yeah, that never happened.
I can’t think of a time when I wasn’t dying to meet him. When I would ask my mom, she would always tell me, “Your father was a wonderful man. We had a few magical days together, and he left me with the most amazing gift to remember him by.” Sure, that’s what a ten year old wants to hear. She would never tell me his name, where he lived, or anything about him other than he didn’t live in California.
It didn’t matter how hard I pleaded, I think she preferred that he be a mystery. Who would have guessed all those times I said I would trade anything to meet him, I never thought I’d trade my rock, my anchor. . . my mom. Ten minutes before she took her last breath, she grabbed my hand and choked out, “Your father. . .lives in Charleston, SC. His name is William Strayer. He deserves to know you. Tell him . . . tell him I said, ‘Goodbye.’”
A few breaths later, she slipped away as death carried her to her final peace. I cried for weeks. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t process losing my mom and getting the information I’d been begging her for my whole life in the span of ten minutes. All those wagers I’d tried to make with God, to find out who he was: I’d told God I would trade anything - I never meant my mom. I’m not crazy enough to think that God had stolen my mom just so I could find out who my father was, but I had several weeks of erratic thoughts.
I googled him. He was easy to find. He’d been in the same house, in the same job, for better than thirty years. Everything I found out about him on the internet pointed to an average guy, with an average life. He wasn’t a rock star. He wasn’t famous. He wasn’t dead.
I took one final breath, steadying myself. I had my phone in one hand and the slip of paper with all his information on my lap. I dialed the number, wondering what I was going to say to him. Before I could press “send,” I chickened out and went back to mom’s bedroom to go through more of her things. Peggy, my mom’s closest and only friend, had offered to come over and help me, but I was twenty-two. I shouldn’t need help with this. Even if Peggy was her best-friend, I knew mom wouldn’t want her going through her things. My mom had always been a private person.
Mom knew it was coming. It wasn’t a surprise or anything. She’d been sick for a long time. Her closet, that normally looked crammed with outfits from the last several decades, wasn’t as packed as the last time I’d seen it. Mom must have gone through some of her things before she died because the walk-in closet could actually be walked into.
Tucked in the far back corner, on a shelf, was a treasure box of sorts: a wooden box with the key inserted into the lock. Whatever was inside, Mom wanted me to see it. I found yellowing movie ticket stubs for a title I’d never heard of, an airline ticket from twenty eight years ago, and a tourist shot glass from the Crazy Horse Monument in South Dakota. It seemed an odd set of treasures for her to have hidden away. I looked at the old plane ticket: it was for an Angela Chiron - no one I knew. I gently closed the wooden box after I’d returned her “treasures,” to their resting place. As I stared at sequined sweaters, stretch pants, dress slacks and dresses, I found myself wanting to make that phone call far more than I wanted to go through my mom’s life.
William. Did he even know I existed? He probably had a family of his own. What would they think of me? It had always been just my mom and me. She didn’t have any family, at least other than me. Her parents died when she was young, and she’d been an only child. I think her final gift to me – my father’s identity - was her way of not leaving me so alone in the world.
I went back to the living room, sat on the sofa and put my feet up on the coffee table, almost begging Mom to walk in the room and tell me to get my feet off of it. A lonely tear rolled down my cheek. No one would be walking through the doorway to tell me to put my feet down. I hated the idea of being alone.
I took one more deep breath, picked up the slip of paper, and dialed his number again. This time my shaking fingers pushed “Send.”
A woman’s voice picked up the phone, “Hello.”
I stammered, terrified of this call, not sure what to say to the woman. “Uh . . . hi . . . is William there?”
“Who’s calling?”
“Camille.”
“Camille, is this a sales call?”
“Uh, no. Definitely, no. Is William home?”
“Just a minute.”
I could only assume that had been William’s wife. I wanted to hang up. I saw my hand shaking and prayed that I wouldn’t have full blown convulsions. I had practiced this phone call several times, but realized I should have written things down. My fear began crippling me, and I drew a blank. What would I say? ‘I’m your love child from twenty-three years ago and wanted to say hi.’ Not the best approach.
I heard a gruff voice come on the line, “Hello, this is Will.”
My voice didn’t work. My mouth opened but nothing came out.
“Hello, is anybody there?”
I cleared my throat, closed my eyes and answered, “Uh, yes. Hi, William. I’m Camille.”
A friendly voice responded, “Okay. Camille, who?”
“Right. I’m Angela Benning’s daughter.”
“Angela Benning? I’m still not making the connection. Are you sure you have the right William?”
“William Strayer from Charleston, South Carolina?”
“Yes.”
“You are the only one I found in information. Have you ever been to San Diego?”
“Well, yes. I travel there, but I don’t know an Angela Benning.”
“Not even one you knew twenty-three years ago?” Silence answered me back. I wasn’t sure if he had hung up the phone, if the connection had been dropped, or if he was too stunned to answer. “William, are you still there?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m still here. I did know an Angela in San Diego. She was a bartender in a hotel.”
“That’s right.”
“Camille, how old are you?”
I did have the right person and at least I didn’t have to draw the connection out for him with big purple crayons. “I’m twenty-two.”
More silence. This was a bad idea. I braced myself for him to deny he was my father, that I was some leech after him for money. His voice spoke softly, “Camille, I don’t know what to say. Your mother is an incredible woman.”
“Was.” I corrected, “She was an incredible woman.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. What happened?” Sincerity was wrapped in his voice.
“She died of breast cancer a few weeks ago. Right before she died, she told me how I could contact you.”
“So, you’re my. . . I mean she wouldn’t have . . . if you weren’t mine.”
I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “Right. I don’t need anything. I just . . . I guess I wanted to talk to you.”
“Camille, you have to believe me, if I had known I would have . . . I didn’t know I had a daughter.”
“That’s okay, William. I knew I had a father – I mean from a biological perspective. But Mom would never tell me anything about you, well, not until the night she died.”
His voice sounded heavy, “Call me, Will, everyone does. So, she didn’t want you to contact me?”
“I guess not, well . . . she never told me anything about you. I never knew your name until the night she passed.”
I heard hopefulness in his voice I didn’t expect when he said, “When can I meet you?”
This was a question I wasn’t really prepared for. All those practice conversations had more to do with introducing myself and convincing him that I was his daughter. I thought I had prepared for every possible response. I never considered that he would want to meet me. “Uh, maybe the next time you come to California?”
“Camille, I’ve got a lot going on for the next month. Getting out to the west coast would be hard. Would you consider flying to South Carolina?”
My heart started doing cartwheels. Not only did I have a real father - he wanted to see me! Trying not to gush at his suggestion, “Um, maybe. I’ve got a bunch of stuff I’ve got to take care of. You know, estate stuff for Mom, and a job.”
“I could arrange for a lawyer to take care of that for you. Camille, I don’t want to put this off. I . . . I could make arrangements now. You could be on the red eye tonight.”
“Will, you don’t know anything about me. I’ve got a job. I can’t just get on a plane.”
“You’re my blood, Camille. Angela was a magical woman, I . . . I had no idea. If you can’t come to me, I’ll juggle some things around. I have to meet you.”
Huh, that’s the same thing mom had said about him. That he was “magical.” I had googled him a few days ago. I knew he was somehow involved with finance and investments and ran a firm in Charleston. Since my job was working at a department store as a cashier, reality was that it would be much easier for me to leave my job for a few days. As I looked around the apartment, there was too much of her here. Not that it was a bad thing, but given the last several months, it might be nice to have a change of scenery, for a few days.
I took a deep breath, “Okay, I can call into work and have someone cover my shifts. But I don’t have the cash for a plane ticket or motel or anything.”
“I’ll take care of it. How soon could you be on a plane?”
“I guess tonight, do you need to talk to your wife or anything?”
“Gretchen will be happy to have you as a guest. She’s always wanted a daughter as much as I have.” I felt a warm glow in my chest. The emptiness of losing my mom would stay with me forever, but I wasn’t alone. I had a father. We exchanged email addresses so we could coordinate the flight. I wondered if this was some sort of a dream. I had run a background investigation on him within days of finding out who he was.
All I really knew about him was: He paid his taxes, he owned several properties, he had never been arrested, and he hadn’t had a ticket or an accident in the last seven years.
I called my best friend in the world to let him know what had just happened. He was so excited for me that he was at my door within twenty minutes. Daniel was like the brother I never had. We looked enough alike that sometimes people assumed I was his sister. He had dark hair, kind of that in between length – it was short, but shaggy. His eyelashes were gorgeous, for a long time I teased him calling him “Maybeline Eyes,” and he had this way of looking at girls that made them all melt – well, all but me.
Daniel was on the surf team in high school and even got a scholarship to surf in college, so there was never a shortage of beach babes looking to hang out with him. We’d never been more than friends and I knew we both liked it that way. We each had a ready-made date for all the big social events, weddings, engagement parties, holiday parties, etc – but none of the romantic attachments that came with it.
Daniel gathered me in a large bear hug and swung me around. “You talked to him? He wants to meet you?”
“I did, he wasn’t freaked out about it or anything. He’s flying me to South Carolina, tonight, to meet him.”
Daniel’s enthusiasm diminished in front of me, “Tonight? Why the rush?”
I slapped his shoulder, “I’m his daughter. He wants to meet me.”
“Did he say why he never bothered to come see you?”
“I think my mom hid us from each other. He didn’t even know that I existed until I called.”
“Just like that, he wants you on a plane? What about a DNA test?”
“He didn’t ask for any proof. He said he remembered her.” I left out the part where he said she was magical – Daniel knew that’s what my mom said about him.
“That must have been some phone call. Are you sure he’s all right?”
“I’m not stupid. I did a background check.”
“That just means he’s never been caught.”
I punched Daniel’s arm a second time and he feigned pain. “I’m just saying, you don’t even know the guy. He could be a serial killer for all you know. There’s probably a reason your mom never let the two of you meet.”
“She told me who he was right before she died. She must have wanted me to find him.”
“Maybe. How about I go with you?”
“Um, I don’t know. I think this is something I have to do on my own, but keep your cell phone on you in case I need you.”
He frowned with his eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t like it. Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Stop worrying. I’ll be back on Sunday. If it gets weird, I’ll come back sooner.”
“If I don’t get a call every day, I’m getting on a plane.”
“Right, to fly to South Carolina and do what? I’ll be fine. He sounded nice.”
“You’ve wanted to meet this guy forever. Don’t get your hopes up. Angela was a smart lady. She must have kept you two apart for a reason.”
“Maybe she just didn’t want the hassle of sharing custody.” This was the lie I’d told myself when I was little. My mom never had boyfriends. She always told me her life was full, and she didn’t have room for one more person in it.
“Maybe, but maybe he’s a douche, and she didn’t want you to get hurt.”
My heart sunk. I didn’t have the strength to argue with him. I knew he was right. I knew mom hid his identity from me, but I didn’t care why.
Everyone needed family, no matter how weird they might be. I was willing to take a chance: one crazy father was better than nobody.
For the next fifteen hours, through two airports and the whole time I was in the air, Daniel’s words continued to echo in my mind, “She must have kept you two apart for a reason.” Why would she have kept us apart? Was she ashamed of him? What did he do that made her not want him in her life? She’d never, for as long as I could remember, had a boyfriend – had he done something to her?
BLOOD DEBT is available now!
I'm so excited! BLOOD DEBT is now available!!
Link on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008L79YRO
Happy Reading!
Twitter: @NancyStraight
Blog: http://www.authnancystraight.blogspot...
Facebook: http://alturl.com/en5ia
Link on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008L79YRO
Happy Reading!
Twitter: @NancyStraight
Blog: http://www.authnancystraight.blogspot...
Facebook: http://alturl.com/en5ia
Centaur Magic Available Now
I thought a few of you may want a peek at Centaur Magic (Touched Series Book 5). It is available electronically from all bookstores now. Happy Reading!
Chapter 1: A New Day
Jessica Baker
“Truth or dare?” Daniel asked with a devilish grin. Daniel always found ways to pass the time. There were few, if any, lulls in conversation as we hiked over the countryside. It had been almost two weeks since the Centaur Council meeting finished. The two of us were doing exactly what the centaur laws forbade – two unmarried centaurs traveling without an escort. I had originally planned to stay with Katherine, but everyone had coupled off. Katherine and Brent accompanied Cami and Drake back to Charleston. I wanted to stay as far away from the United States and my awaiting family as possible.
When Daniel asked if I’d ever been to Argentina, it had taken less than three seconds for me to agree to go with him. At first, I was secretive about our plans, embarrassed that someone might find out that we were running off together. Daniel told Cami, and pretty soon everyone in her circle seemed to know – none were even slightly put off by our plans. It was liberating.
Cami’s family accepted her decree without hesitation: she said Daniel was a centaur, so he was a centaur. It didn’t matter that his blood did not run pure. Had any of her family chastised us, I might have buckled under the pressure – I’m glad no one did, because we were having the time of our life. Time with Daniel, regardless of where we were, always turned into a grand adventure. When I awoke this morning, Daniel suggested we spend our last day in the countryside. We would travel to Vietnam tomorrow, but today we chose to enjoy our last full day in Argentina away from the hustle of the city.
Without so much as a map or a plan, we drove out of the city, left our car along the side of a quiet road, and set out on a trail I was sure had been forged by sheep. The Centaur Council meeting replayed in my mind often. Despite Cami’s decree that every centaur or centauride could love whoever they wanted, centaurides were still outnumbered eight to one by centaurs. I enjoyed spending time with Daniel, but I knew one day I would be forced to return to the life I had run away from. For now, I tucked that fear away, savoring my time with Daniel. “Truth,” I finally answered.
Dejectedly, he accused, “You always pick truth.”
“Yeah, because you have too active of an imagination for me to accept one of your dares. Truth.”
Daniel shot me an exasperated look. “Fine. Alive or dead, who do you admire most in the world?”
That was an easy one: Daniel was a free spirit with an immense heart. He never worried about the future, or begrudged the past – Daniel lived in the moment. I wished I could say the same about myself. I was crippled by my past and had nothing but fear of my future. But if I told him that he was who I admired most, I’d never hear the end of it. “Male or Female?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Centaur or human?”
Daniel rolled his eyes, “Either.”
“Politician, entertainer or good Samaritan?”
Frustrated, Daniel reminded me, “Are you forgetting that I asked you the question? Political.”
“There are lots of people I admire.” I started scrolling through people in my head. I loved Mother Teresa, but she wasn’t necessarily political. I had done a paper in high school on Condoleezza Rice; she was amazing, but she didn’t seem to be as active as she was then. Who did I admire most? Then it hit me, “Sonia Sotomayor.”
“I’ve heard her name. She’s a senator, right?”
“Supreme Court,” I corrected. “She always seems to find in favor of the underdog, whether it’s a convicted criminal, a child unfairly singled out, or a disabled person requesting special accommodations. I’d like to think that if I were ever a justice on the Supreme Court, I’d be like her.”
“Right.” Daniel nodded, “Note to self,” he pulled out an imaginary note pad, “we need to start looking at law schools.” I gave him a rueful stare, “Hey, I’m just sayin’ if you want to defend the underdogs on the Supreme Court, you’re going to need to find a law school. Your turn. I pick dare.”
“Of course you’d pick a dare.”
“I like to keep things lively.”
I was confident no matter what I dared him to do, he’d do it. It took a couple minutes before I finally came up with, “I dare you to act out a scene from a movie.”
“Any movie?” he clarified.
“It has to be a scene I’ll recognize.”
Daniel’s devilish grin returned. He began scrolling through songs stored on his phone, but pulled the device out of my view before demanding, “No peeking!” After a few seconds he tossed his phone on a clump of grass in the pasture where we stood, walked toward me wolfishly, took my left hand in his, and then rested his right hand at the small of my back. “I’ve Had the Time of My Life,” by Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes played so loudly that a flock of birds resting in a nearby tree took flight.
Daniel twirled me away from him, then pulled me back close and went into exactly the dance moves that Patrick Swayze had done in Dirty Dancing. Luckily, no one was within miles of us to see his suave moves and my stumbling attempt to keep up with him – I was sure I looked like a rhythm-challenged orangutan. Before the song was half over, his twirls and lustful stares had me laughing so hard that I had to let go of him, “Okay, okay, Dirty Dancing. You won.”
Instead of stopping, he kept dancing by himself while I stood there giggling. Daniel was twenty feet away as he stood nodding at me like I was supposed to do a mid-air swan dive and he’d catch me. I shook my head. “You already won, and I’m not going to do the jump. I never said anything about being a prop while you acted out the scene.”
Daniel wouldn’t take “no” for an answer, and before I could protest, he closed the distance between us, lifted me off my feet and above his head. I was not as graceful as the actress in the movie, and my fledgling arms and legs toppled us both to the ground. I lay beside him as Daniel warned, “Never ask a California boy to act out a scene from a movie.” He stood and held his hand out to help me off the grass. “You’re lucky I didn’t pick Fifty Shades.”
His response caught me off guard, I stumbled, and nearly face planted back into the lush ground. Before I kissed the dirt, Daniel’s arm caught my waist and kept me upright. “Did you trip, or were you doing a random gravity check?”
I smacked him on the chest, but his playfulness diminished as we both found ourselves holding each other in the beautiful meadow, with no one around for miles. Daniel leaned to me and brushed his lips over mine. It was gentle, barely more than a whisper of a kiss. I opened my eyes to see the chestnut-brown of his irises boring into mine. Daniel had the longest lashes I had ever seen on a man. His jaw was chiseled and his face symmetrical, in a word – he was perfect. Heat poured from his stare, my senses went on high alert, longing for him to kiss me again.
Daniel’s fingers slid under the back of my blouse, his touch raining sparks across my skin. My eyes closed as I savored the tingly sensation he created; one of his hands slid from the small of my back to the back of my neck. His fingers threaded through my hair as he pulled my lips more firmly to his. I knew what I felt for him was wrong. No matter how attracted I was to him, or how often he made me laugh, Daniel wasn’t a possibility for the future. The sensible part of my brain argued that I needed to end things before both of us got too attached. Despite my best efforts to think logically, the irrational part of my brain won out each time when it came to Daniel.
The two of us stood, wrapped up in each other’s arms, living in a moment I believed would stay with me for the rest of my life. Dirty dancing in a pasture outside of Cordoba, Argentina had never been on my bucket list, but had just entered the top ten moments of my life.
Chapter 1: A New Day
Jessica Baker
“Truth or dare?” Daniel asked with a devilish grin. Daniel always found ways to pass the time. There were few, if any, lulls in conversation as we hiked over the countryside. It had been almost two weeks since the Centaur Council meeting finished. The two of us were doing exactly what the centaur laws forbade – two unmarried centaurs traveling without an escort. I had originally planned to stay with Katherine, but everyone had coupled off. Katherine and Brent accompanied Cami and Drake back to Charleston. I wanted to stay as far away from the United States and my awaiting family as possible.
When Daniel asked if I’d ever been to Argentina, it had taken less than three seconds for me to agree to go with him. At first, I was secretive about our plans, embarrassed that someone might find out that we were running off together. Daniel told Cami, and pretty soon everyone in her circle seemed to know – none were even slightly put off by our plans. It was liberating.
Cami’s family accepted her decree without hesitation: she said Daniel was a centaur, so he was a centaur. It didn’t matter that his blood did not run pure. Had any of her family chastised us, I might have buckled under the pressure – I’m glad no one did, because we were having the time of our life. Time with Daniel, regardless of where we were, always turned into a grand adventure. When I awoke this morning, Daniel suggested we spend our last day in the countryside. We would travel to Vietnam tomorrow, but today we chose to enjoy our last full day in Argentina away from the hustle of the city.
Without so much as a map or a plan, we drove out of the city, left our car along the side of a quiet road, and set out on a trail I was sure had been forged by sheep. The Centaur Council meeting replayed in my mind often. Despite Cami’s decree that every centaur or centauride could love whoever they wanted, centaurides were still outnumbered eight to one by centaurs. I enjoyed spending time with Daniel, but I knew one day I would be forced to return to the life I had run away from. For now, I tucked that fear away, savoring my time with Daniel. “Truth,” I finally answered.
Dejectedly, he accused, “You always pick truth.”
“Yeah, because you have too active of an imagination for me to accept one of your dares. Truth.”
Daniel shot me an exasperated look. “Fine. Alive or dead, who do you admire most in the world?”
That was an easy one: Daniel was a free spirit with an immense heart. He never worried about the future, or begrudged the past – Daniel lived in the moment. I wished I could say the same about myself. I was crippled by my past and had nothing but fear of my future. But if I told him that he was who I admired most, I’d never hear the end of it. “Male or Female?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Centaur or human?”
Daniel rolled his eyes, “Either.”
“Politician, entertainer or good Samaritan?”
Frustrated, Daniel reminded me, “Are you forgetting that I asked you the question? Political.”
“There are lots of people I admire.” I started scrolling through people in my head. I loved Mother Teresa, but she wasn’t necessarily political. I had done a paper in high school on Condoleezza Rice; she was amazing, but she didn’t seem to be as active as she was then. Who did I admire most? Then it hit me, “Sonia Sotomayor.”
“I’ve heard her name. She’s a senator, right?”
“Supreme Court,” I corrected. “She always seems to find in favor of the underdog, whether it’s a convicted criminal, a child unfairly singled out, or a disabled person requesting special accommodations. I’d like to think that if I were ever a justice on the Supreme Court, I’d be like her.”
“Right.” Daniel nodded, “Note to self,” he pulled out an imaginary note pad, “we need to start looking at law schools.” I gave him a rueful stare, “Hey, I’m just sayin’ if you want to defend the underdogs on the Supreme Court, you’re going to need to find a law school. Your turn. I pick dare.”
“Of course you’d pick a dare.”
“I like to keep things lively.”
I was confident no matter what I dared him to do, he’d do it. It took a couple minutes before I finally came up with, “I dare you to act out a scene from a movie.”
“Any movie?” he clarified.
“It has to be a scene I’ll recognize.”
Daniel’s devilish grin returned. He began scrolling through songs stored on his phone, but pulled the device out of my view before demanding, “No peeking!” After a few seconds he tossed his phone on a clump of grass in the pasture where we stood, walked toward me wolfishly, took my left hand in his, and then rested his right hand at the small of my back. “I’ve Had the Time of My Life,” by Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes played so loudly that a flock of birds resting in a nearby tree took flight.
Daniel twirled me away from him, then pulled me back close and went into exactly the dance moves that Patrick Swayze had done in Dirty Dancing. Luckily, no one was within miles of us to see his suave moves and my stumbling attempt to keep up with him – I was sure I looked like a rhythm-challenged orangutan. Before the song was half over, his twirls and lustful stares had me laughing so hard that I had to let go of him, “Okay, okay, Dirty Dancing. You won.”
Instead of stopping, he kept dancing by himself while I stood there giggling. Daniel was twenty feet away as he stood nodding at me like I was supposed to do a mid-air swan dive and he’d catch me. I shook my head. “You already won, and I’m not going to do the jump. I never said anything about being a prop while you acted out the scene.”
Daniel wouldn’t take “no” for an answer, and before I could protest, he closed the distance between us, lifted me off my feet and above his head. I was not as graceful as the actress in the movie, and my fledgling arms and legs toppled us both to the ground. I lay beside him as Daniel warned, “Never ask a California boy to act out a scene from a movie.” He stood and held his hand out to help me off the grass. “You’re lucky I didn’t pick Fifty Shades.”
His response caught me off guard, I stumbled, and nearly face planted back into the lush ground. Before I kissed the dirt, Daniel’s arm caught my waist and kept me upright. “Did you trip, or were you doing a random gravity check?”
I smacked him on the chest, but his playfulness diminished as we both found ourselves holding each other in the beautiful meadow, with no one around for miles. Daniel leaned to me and brushed his lips over mine. It was gentle, barely more than a whisper of a kiss. I opened my eyes to see the chestnut-brown of his irises boring into mine. Daniel had the longest lashes I had ever seen on a man. His jaw was chiseled and his face symmetrical, in a word – he was perfect. Heat poured from his stare, my senses went on high alert, longing for him to kiss me again.
Daniel’s fingers slid under the back of my blouse, his touch raining sparks across my skin. My eyes closed as I savored the tingly sensation he created; one of his hands slid from the small of my back to the back of my neck. His fingers threaded through my hair as he pulled my lips more firmly to his. I knew what I felt for him was wrong. No matter how attracted I was to him, or how often he made me laugh, Daniel wasn’t a possibility for the future. The sensible part of my brain argued that I needed to end things before both of us got too attached. Despite my best efforts to think logically, the irrational part of my brain won out each time when it came to Daniel.
The two of us stood, wrapped up in each other’s arms, living in a moment I believed would stay with me for the rest of my life. Dirty dancing in a pasture outside of Cordoba, Argentina had never been on my bucket list, but had just entered the top ten moments of my life.
