Niki Savage's Blog

Smashwords Read an Ebook week

Happy Read an Ebook Week! To help you find a book to celebrate, you can find my entire collection at a promotional price at @Smashwords from March 5-11. Find my books and many more at https://www.smashwords.com/ebookweek #ebookweek23 #Smashwords

Hi to all,

Just a short note regarding my books. I am no longer exclusively publishing with Amazon. My books are now available at all retailers, and also with Smashwords, who is an international ebook distributor. For the Smashwords Read an Ebook week promotion, I have made all my first in series books free, and all my other books are available at 50% discount. So if any of you have not yet managed to complete your collection of all my books, notably my latest book, Blackstone: Merlin in Love, now would be the best time to get a copy. For those of you who have fallen in love with the story of Aidan and Lily; their story continues in Merlin in Love, and I think many of you might enjoy to see her as a mature young woman instead of the hot mess she was in Lily’s Reprieve. LOL.

This is the link for my books at Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/nikisavage

Blackstone: Merlin in Love https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1337293

Writing again

Tarzan getting comfortable He’s determined to sleep on my keyboard.

So, just a quick post to say I’m back in the saddle, and after three years have resumed writing. For those of you who have followed my trials and tribulations, I’m saddened to report that both my parents have passed away. My mother in October 2022 and my father in December 2022.

Yes, ultimately it all ended rather abruptly when they lost the ability to swallow and medical intervention was necessary. In hospital both of them contracted a superbug which ultimately did not respond to antibiotics and resulted in sepsis. There was nothing that could be done, though my dad fought valiantly in ICU for nearly four months before he succumbed. Due to my mother’s bad heart she was gone in two weeks. It was both a shock and a release.

My brother and I have been to hell and back, but we have survived, and are trying to resume our lives. Though I’m still sad, I’ve started writing again. So I’m going through the first Merlin book, just to refresh my memory, and then starting on the second. I’m not making any promises, but I hope to have the second book out by the end of the year. Thanks again for all the support I have received.

Kitties Everywhere

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It’s rather a chilly day in Johannesburg today. Lots of rain and electric storms. Perfect weather to brew a cup of hot chocolate and get to writing. Except that my cats think this is perfect cuddle weather. I’ve trained Adelheid to move a bit to the side so I can use my left arm, but Yoda, who weighs around 6 kilograms, refuses to budge. So I’m trying to work around her.

Updated version of Blackstone Resurrection free!

For those readers who have read Blackstone Resurrection and felt that it ended a bit abruptly or that there were loose ends that needed to be tied up, I have produced an updated version of Blackstone Resurrection. To ensure that you don’t have to buy the updated version, you can download it for free from Amazon on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Remember to delete the old version from your device and Amazon library before downloading the updated version. If you look at the picture I’ve included, the updated version says so on the copyright page. When you see that page you will know you have the correct version.

For those who don’t feel like reading the whole book again, most of the changes are in the last three chapters or so of the book, and I’ve also corrected the timeline to show the passing of time while Lily and Aidan were imprisoned.

Thanks and happy reading.

Trying to squeeze blood from a stone, a Blackstone, to be precise.

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If you have not read the Blackstone Trilogy, and intend to do so in the future, please do not read any further. This blog post is intended for those readers who have finished reading, Blackstone Resurrection, the final book in the Blackstone Trilogy.

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So after I published Blackstone Resurrection, I received an enquiry from a reader as to whether there would be more added to the story about Aidan and Lily, a type of epilogue, to tie up loose ends, much like I had done with the Driftwood Trilogy, where I wrote an epilogue of how the characters were doing ten years later. In that case it felt necessary, to give peace to all the characters, and to show them in more normal circumstances, and more content. It felt right.

In the case of the Blackstone Trilogy, I attempted to do the same, as I’m always keen to please my readers, and if they wanted an epilogue, well, then I would write one. But I came up against a brick wall, again and again, bashing my fists bloody as I tried to break through. My creativity fled as I tried to invent a story where, quite frankly, there was no longer a story. It was finished, even though I had not been certain of that when I had agreed to do an epilogue or short novelette.

I hate to disappoint even one reader, but in the past months I have grown tired of trying to squeeze blood from a stone. It influenced my love of writing to the point where I began to avoid my laptop, and sometimes weeks would go by without me writing a single word. At first I thought something would come to me, and I would find a way to continue the story, but nothing came. And because I was keeping Aidan and Lily in my imagination, it prevented other characters from moving in, and prevented me from starting the standalone book I had been so keen on writing after I had completed Blackstone Resurrection.

So basically I have had around six months of barely writing. That’s not to say that I’ve been sitting around staring out the window. My life has become incredibly busy, as my 12 year old niece started coming to my house in the afternoon so that I could look after her and help her with homework. This was something that I had asked for so it was important to me to make time for her. Also the person who had been helping out with my shelter left my employ, and I have not been able to find a replacement. So in the morning it was doing my shelter work, sorting out 38 cats every morning, releasing them into the garden so that I could clean out and sweep their rooms and wooden huts, and clean around 22 sandboxes that had been used during the night. So it was cats in the morning, kid in the afternoon, and in the evening I was cooking supper for my two aged parents.

Yes, so hardly a minute spare to do anything, especially as initially my energy levels were so low after my second thyroid operation. But I can feel I’m back to normal now, and I can get the cats done in two hours in the morning, mainly because I’m moving faster now. And my niece has improved her marks, so she no longer requires such close attention from me. So now suddenly I have a few hours a day available to write, but what to write?

I want to outline the reasons why I feel that it isn’t possible to do an epilogue of Blackstone Resurrection. Let’s start with Suzy. Should there be some kind of resolution to her relationship with Lily, after all they had been friends for a few years, and she had been so concerned for Lily and the baby. Yes, to the point that she had betrayed Lily, and by extension, Aidan, almost costing Lily her life, and Aidan his freedom. Aidan endured months of terrible living conditions and beatings, but the worst was not knowing if Lily was alive or dead. Lily too, even though her living circumstances were better, had suffered great anguish not knowing what had happened to Aidan. One can say that Suzy didn’t know any better, that she had done what she thought was best under the circumstances, but I think we can all agree that Charles’ story of being the father of Lily’s child was fishy at best, and Suzy should’ve known that Lily would have taken her into her confidence if that had been the case. But Suzy had been so emotionally involved and caught up in her ‘hatred’ of Aidan that she was no longer thinking rationally. All of this is up for debate, of course, but consider the following. Would Lily be able to forgive Suzy for what she had done, even if it had been done in ignorance? Would Lily ever be able to trust Suzy again, knowing how easily she had been manipulated by Charles? How would Lily protect Suzy from Aidan, who would surely vaporize Suzy if he ever set eyes on her again? I think it’s obvious that their friendship cannot be rekindled, aside from the fact that Lily and Aidan are using different names until Aidan destroys the last of the Order of St. Lucian. The last thing they need is someone who knows them under their previous identities.

Then we come to James, who had been in Aidan’s employ for several years, and who had posed as Lily’s father during the time that they had been on the run from the Order of St. Lucian. I think it would be dangerous for James to be in Lily and Aidan’s lives. Remember when Lily left James to go and find Aidan, she waited until the bus had travelled quite some distance before attempting to draw money from her account. She had not wanted to lead Order of St. Lucian to James and his new family, wanting him to enjoy his new found happiness in peace. After she had found Aidan again, she had sent James an email to tell him she was safe and had found Aidan. I believe that it should end there. There is no way that they could remain anything more than old friends who occasionally communicate via email, as anything more than that would put James at risk. And how would they explain the fact that they were not getting any older to James? Let’s face it, due to their immortality they would have to live an existence that involved moving frequently, living quietly, and avoiding long term friendships. Sounds like a lonely existence, and that was how Aidan had lived before meeting Lily, but now at least they had each other, forever. Sounds like a dream come true.

So then I thought, couldn’t I explore that a little further, how Aidan teaches Lily to use her powers, and how she experiences life as an immortal. But then I thought that’s far too much like Twilight, after Bella became a vampire, and she and Edward romped through the woods and he taught her to hunt, and she developed her powers. Yeah, that’s been done, and I had no interest in going down that avenue. So that was that then. For the sake of showing how awkward a meeting between Lily and Suzy would’ve been, what follows is a scene I had reworked over and over, and had eventually given up on. It’s not fully edited, nor complete, but you will see what I mean.

Copyright 2018 Niki Savage
This publication is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Niki Savage.

“Lily!”

Lily froze as she heard her name. She knew that voice. For a moment, she considered ignoring the cry and disappearing into one of the many fashion shops lining London’s Bond Street. But then she paused. Aidan wasn’t with her, so what could be the harm?

She turned and saw Suzy rushing towards her with outstretched arms and joy on her face, her aura displaying nothing but love and happiness. Lily couldn’t help but to respond with a smile, despite everything that had happened.

Suzy slammed into her a second later and hugged her hard. “I can’t believe it, here you are,” she said, releasing Lily but still keeping a hold on her arm, as if she was worried she might disappear. “You guys just vanished, and nobody could tell me where you had gone. Lily, it’s been three years.”

“Hi Suzy, how have you been?” Lily asked, shrugging lightly to remove Suzy’s hand from her arm.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Suzy said, excitement in her tone, “but not here. Let’s go to that coffee shop over there and get something to drink, then we can talk in peace and quiet.”

Lily wasn’t sure if she was up to that kind of in-depth conversation, but then decided that Suzy would probably talk mostly about herself, and all she had to do was listen. “That sounds like a great plan,” she said, injecting a note of enthusiasm in her voice.

Suzy hooked her arm into Lily’s arm and headed for the café at a brisk walk. Soon they were settled at a table, steaming cups of coffee in front of them, and Suzy finally seemed to relax. She smiled happily. “Can you believe it, halfway across the world, and we run into each other. I mean, what are the odds of that?”

Lily didn’t know, but was sure that fate had caused their paths to cross. She had wanted to contact Suzy so many times, but Aidan had advised against it, saying that Suzy couldn’t be trusted, and that it was only out of respect for their friendship that he had allowed her to escape unpunished after causing them such misery. But this was different, surely. A chance meeting in London. Really, what were the odds?

“Well, clearly this was meant to be,” Lily said with a smile. “So tell me, what have you been up to since I last saw you.”

Suzy beamed happily, holding her left hand towards Lily. “I’m married. Benji popped the question after I graduated. I missed you so much at my wedding. One of my cousins stood in as my matron of honor, but I so wanted it to be you. I’m so sorry that you couldn’t be there.”

Lily shrugged and shut her lips tight against the words of accusation that threatened to burst forth. Better to play it cool. She couldn’t confront Suzy with the facts because how would she explain knowing exactly what had happened. This had been a mistake. She should’ve shrugged Suzy off while they had been on the street.

“How’s Aidan?” Suzy asked. “And your baby. He must be around three by now.”

“Aidan is fine, thank you,” Lily said, taking a big sip of her scalding cappuccino. That was a mistake, she thought wryly as her violated skin instantly healed and the pain faded. But the pain of the burn had at least distracted her from her anger. She put her cup down with exaggerated care and looked up at Suzy. “There is no baby.”

“Hah, I knew it,” Suzy said loudly, causing a few of the other customers to glance at them curiously. She hunched her shoulders and sank down in her chair. “Sorry.”

“What did you know, Suzy,” Lily asked in a measured tone.

“Aidan made you get rid of it, just as I predicted. Were you even still pregnant that time when we spoke on the phone?”

“I was highly pregnant, actually.”

“So where’s the baby?”

Lily took a deep breath. She wanted to punish Suzy for what she had done, and the misery she had caused them, but she could never tell her the truth. But perhaps she could tell her a sanitized version of the truth. “Men invaded our property and tried to harm me and Aidan. We managed to escape into our panic room, but the shock of what had happened sent me into early labor. The baby didn’t survive.”

Suzy sat frozen, staring at her with wide eyes, and her aura showed guilt warring with intense sadness and shock.

“The birth nearly killed me,” Lily continued, “but we were trapped in the panic room and couldn’t get help, because the men were searching the property, still looking for us. Aidan tried everything to keep me alive but I eventually lost consciousness. When I woke, I was in hospital. They told me I had been in a coma for three months. I spent many more months in hospital after that, trying to recover my health.”

“And where was Aidan?” Suzy asked softly, dread in her eyes.

“He was there when I woke up,” Lily said, forcing the lie past tight lips, knowing she could never tell Suzy the truth of Aidan’s captivity at the hands of Charles’ father, Senator Logan.

Suzy’s freckles stood in stark contrast against her pale skin as she stared at Lily, consternation on her face. “I don’t understand. We went back, but the police wouldn’t give us any information. I searched for you, Lily. I phoned all the hospitals in New York, but I couldn’t find you.”

Lily clenched her teeth as she feigned ignorance. “What are you talking about, Suzy?”

Suzy dropped her gaze and stared at her coffee cup without answering.

“I asked you a question,” Lily said, determined to get her to confess. Aidan had suffered so much because of Suzy’s meddling. She should just have stayed out of their affairs.

Suzy let out a small cry and covered her downturned face with trembling hands, but tears dripped copiously from between her fingers. “I’m so sorry, Charles fooled me. I was so stupid,” she mumbled in a thick voice. Her shoulders shook as muffled sobs escaped from behind her hands.

Lily couldn’t keep it up. The revenge had soured in her mouth. She stared at the rich red of Suzy’s hair, gathered in a ponytail of riotous curls, and she knew she could never hold her actions against her. She and Aidan had travelled into the past to the time before the attack on the mansion and had seen how Charles had fooled Suzy, and how Benji and Suzy had called the police in an attempt to stop Charles when they had realized their mistake. At least the gunfight between the St. Lucians and the police had warned her and Aidan of impending danger, giving them time to get to the shelter, so even though Suzy had betrayed them, she and Benji had also tried to save them from harm.

The waiter appeared next to their table, ready to take their food order. His eyes stretched when he saw Suzy crying. “We’re alright,” Lily said, waving him away.

“Suzy, dry your tears,” Lily said gently as she manipulated Suzy’s aura, calming her so that they could talk without more dramatics.

Suzy kept her face downturned at as she rummaged in her handbag and found a handful of tissues. She pressed the tissues to her face, noticeably calmer. “Sorry for making such a scene,” she whispered in a raw voice. “For the last three years I’ve been trying to make peace with what I had done. The guilt was killing me, but I consoled myself that you and Aidan had to be happy somewhere in the world. Now I find out that it was even worse than I imagined. I’m so sorry.”

* * * *

And really, where does the conversation go from there. Lily can never be truthful. She already hates herself for every lie she is being forced to tell. And Suzy will remember how she had betrayed Lily every time they speak. So this friendship can never be rekindled, because it will cause pain and discomfort to Lily and to Suzy. Not forgetting the fact that Lily would then be going against Aidan’s wishes, as he had advised her not to contact Lily.

To answer the question about Aidan’s stolen antique furniture, yes, of course he recovered all his furniture, and Charles died horribly. Again, there seemed to be little point in writing a scene where Aidan put an end to Charles, because the main question would have been, does he boil him in his own juices, or does he set him on fire. And I think we’ve had enough scenes where Aidan has done that to his enemies. It would have read like a rerun if I had attempted to write such a scene. So there it is. I guess that’s all I can say. I hope that I’ll be able to start on my new manuscript soon.

Blackstone Resurrection is available.

[image error]Hi everyone. Apologies for writing this post on my phone, so I’ll keep it short. I’m in hospital at the moment after undergoing a second thyroid operation on Tuesday. The first one was in mid August. In both operations the histology was positive for thyroid cancer. The good news is that I’m pretty sure that my fabulous surgeon (really, he’s a rockstar) got all of it out so this should be the end of it. I still have to ask myself what gives. Seems since 2015 my body has declared war on me, and I still have an operation on my right shoulder looming later this year or early next year. Which is why I’m thrilled to announce that Blackstone Resurrection is available at all retailers. And I must admit that it’s a huge relief to me that I published it on Monday night before going into hospital. Now all I have to do is concentrate on recovery and thinking about writing another book. A stand-alone book, I think. After three trilogies in a row I’m cured of writing more trilogies for now.

Final Notes on the Crossfire Trilogy

A little while ago, while feeling nostalgic for my favorite characters, I reread the Crossfire Trilogy and also the Driftwood Trilogy, and an interesting thought occurred to me. Is the Driftwood Trilogy really a spinoff of the Crossfire Trilogy, or is it just a continuation of the story, with the prequel, in the form of Crossfire: Driftwood thrown in somewhere in the middle. And I wondered to myself if I shouldn’t rather rebrand and market the six books as the Crossfire Series instead. But then I wondered whether Crossfire: Driftwood shouldn’t then be the first book in the series. After all, chronologically Driftwood happened many years before Crossfire.

But then I remembered that I wrote Driftwood after finishing the Crossfire Trilogy, and that Driftwood demonstrated some of the fears and problems that Marcelle had carried over to the first Crossfire book. And I realized that Driftwood needed to be read with the knowledge of the Crossfire Trilogy already in mind. I think it heightens the tension a bit more that the reader can easily guess who the strange man is that Nancy finds on the beach, simply by his description, and it lends a particular note to the story that the reader has information that the main protagonist, Nancy does not have.

So in the end I decided that the order is correct, and that Driftwood should be the fourth book in the series, because it also answers a question that is posed in Crossfire: Hearts on Fire, which is why is Karl so bitter and twisted about Nancy?

So yes, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering about this, mainly because when I look at sales figures, it is obvious to me that the Driftwood Trilogy has not had the same sales numbers as the Crossfire Trilogy. Not that it has sold badly at all, but what I mean is it is obvious to me that many people who read and enjoyed the Crossfire Trilogy didn’t go on to read the Driftwood Trilogy. It makes me wonder if I failed in my marketing of the two trilogies, and didn’t make it obvious enough that the two are connected?

This returns me to my first question, whether I shouldn’t rather rebrand the six books as one series. I would love some input on this, if anyone has an opinion. I don’t know if an author is allowed to love their own books, but I love the saga of Marcelle, Stefan, Kris, Karl and Nancy and their trials though the years. Those characters have been with me for a long time, because I wrote the Crossfire Trilogy way back in the nineties! And I realized upon reading it again that the Crossfire and Driftwood trilogies are primarily about betrayal and forgiveness. And whether love, whether romantic or familial love, can really overcome all.

And I really hope in real life that it can overcome all, because in this past year our family has experienced the lows of betrayal and anger as we were forced to go to court to protect a minor child from a predator. I can’t say too much about it, save to speak hypothetically. Let’s just say that there are predators who like to target single, sometimes desperate, women with a child or children of a certain age. Do you see where I’m going with this? And sometimes this woman is blind to what is happening, or what could potentially happen, and no amount of talking or reasoning will help, leaving her family no choice but to resort to the highest court in the country to keep this child safe, and keep this predator away from her.

We have provisionally succeeded, but the case is still on going, and the threats and abuse from the respondent in the case has been on going for this entire year. The cost to our family has been enormous, both financial and emotional, and our relationship with the respondent has been destroyed, which means we stand to lose everything, including our relationship with the child in question, if we should fail in our endeavor to protect her.

But I’ve always believed that the only way that evil can succeed in the world is if good people do nothing. And when I look at this beautiful child with her whole life still ahead of her, I know it will all be worth it in the end, knowing that we have prevented her childhood from being stolen from her. One day I will be able to face her and say to her that I did everything in my power to protect her. But the cost has been great, not the least in my productivity as a writer. I’ve been trying to get the third Blackstone book written, but all too often have found myself staring out of the window, my thoughts far away as I try to find a way to settle this whole affair peacefully, and try to heal the rift in our family at the same time.

And sometimes I have to wonder when things are going to improve. I mean 2015 was a pretty crap year health wise as I wrote in this blog post and this one . But still I managed to bring out Crossfire: Broken earlier this year, which I believe, and which some reviews have also mentioned, is one of my best books to date, in terms of the conflict and tension, and I must say that I loved writing it, because even though my body was hurting, it was an escape for me, and more importantly, I was fully immersed in my characters.

But now, my mind is restless and my soul is tortured. What do you say when your godchild says to you with tears in her eyes that sometimes she pinches herself to check if she isn’t a ghost, because her mother, (the respondent in this case) barely talks to her, and pushes her away when she wants to hug her. She is in agony, our family is in agony. I am in agony. But the child’s mother is filled with revenge and rage and hatred because she feels she has been wronged, and that we shouldn’t have interfered. It is monstrous, and unbelievable that in today’s times it should be so difficult to protect a child.

I must apologise for such a morbid post, but I felt that you guys deserve to hear the truth about why the third Blackstone book won’t be ready in December. I will do my best to complete it as soon as I can. I know that many of you are waiting to see what happens next, and I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m hoping that I might have it done by March at the latest. If I manage to finish it earlier, I will always announce it here first.

The Driftwood Trilogy is complete!

And what a relief, I have to say. I’m looking forward to a few days of rest and relaxation, and then it’s back to work to finish the Blackstone Trilogy. So without further delay, Crossfire: Broken is available at Smashwords and Amazon. I will be adding the Itunes,  Barnes & Noble, and Kobo links as they become available. Thank you to all the readers who came to this blog to chat to me and chase me a little bit,  I really needed it. Thanks again.

Copyright: http://www.123rf.com/profile_artranq’>artranq / 123RF Stock Photo

 

 

First Three Chapters, as promised

As I promised a few days ago, here are the first three chapters of the third Driftwood book, which is provisionally being called Crossfire: Broken.

Crossfire: Broken
By Niki Savage
Copyright 2016 Niki Savage
 This publication is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Niki Savage.

Crossfire: Broken

Book 3 of the Driftwood Trilogy

Chapter One

Clad in a black leather teddy, the six foot tall blonde dominatrix shook out the coils of the bullwhip she held in her hand. Some distance in front of her stood her helpless victim, but in this case, not quite so helpless. He has chosen to be here, has even brought the whip he wanted her to use, and has decided for himself how many lashes she should give him. He wanted two hundred in total, divided into ten visits. His visits were irregular, mostly four weeks apart, but after his third visit he was absent for seven weeks, leaving her panicking at the prospect of losing her biggest paying customer.

This was his fifth visit, and by the end of it, he would have received one hundred lashes in total. By now, their routine was familiar, with him already in position by the time she entered the room. It was a bit disappointing, because she would’ve liked to see his face before she punished him.

She had an intense interest in human nature, and wished that she knew why this beautiful man needed her to punish him so viciously. A bullwhip in her expert hands was a fearsome instrument. Though she was supremely skilled with the instrument, able to inflict maximum pain without breaking the skin, it was still a terrifying and excruciating experience.

None but the most hard core enthusiasts came to her for this particular treat, and even they often invoked the safe word by the fifth lash, and that was when she was going easy on them, using the bullwhip to terrify more than to injure. But it was enough for many of them to get turned on enough to get their reward, a fuck that blew their minds, because she was good at that too.

Which was why this man vexed her. She had noticed right from the start that he derived no sexual gratification from the whipping or the humiliation. Whatever pain or anger he felt, he internalized, because little of it showed on the outside. But she knew he felt the pain, because after their last meeting he had winced when putting his shirt back on. That wince had been enough to give her the sexual gratification she sought. This was a job, after all, but she wouldn’t be doing it if she didn’t enjoy it.

She focused on the man in front of her. He wasn’t secured to the rack, rather he gripped where the shackles protruded, which made it look as if he was restrained, but it was just an illusion. She knew it was for her benefit, and he has never let go of the shackles during a beating, maintaining the effect that he was helpless.

His back was smooth and tanned, showing no marks from the eighty lashes she had inflicted over the past four months, and she was proud of herself for that. He stood about six feet tall in his blue denims and black boots, and his thick black hair hung to where his neck met his shoulders. She remembered from before that he had piercing pale blue eyes, which he often hid by allowing his hair to fall into his eyes, playboy style. He always had a few days of dark stubble on his jaw, but it looked good on him. Again, she wondered why he felt in need of punishment, and she wondered about the precise amount of lashes he had requested.

But she had a job to do, so without further delay she sent the whip snaking in his direction. It let out a satisfying crack before it connected his skin, and she was gratified to see him flinch. Without giving him a moment to compose himself, she sent the lash in his direction again, harder this time.

The man sucked in a huge lungful of air after the fifth lash, and she wondered if he was about to scream, like so many of them did, but again he disappointed her, dropping his head and absorbing the pain. But she wanted his pain, wanted to see his pain, hear his pain, and so she sent the whip out again, her blood singing in her ears as the whip cracked before making contact. The man didn’t use his safe word, and she realized that this was what he wanted. She had been too easy on him until now. He wanted the pain, and she no longer cared why, intent on drawing her own satisfaction from hurting him.

~ . ~

The man hanging on the rack was in a world of agony. Fire consumed his entire body, and reignited every time the lash of the whip bit into his skin. Breathing was difficult, because the dominatrix wielding the whip gave him no time to recover between lashes. Finally the woman understood what he wanted, understood that he needed to be punished. Her blows were harder than before, and as a red haze of pain clouded his senses, he wondered if she had finally seen his black soul. If she knew what he had done, she wouldn’t stop beating him until he lay dead on the floor.

He wished that he had the courage to let his tormentor tie him up, so that he could feel the helplessness that ‘she’ must have felt. Even after all this time, he couldn’t say her name, not even in his thoughts. He wasn’t worthy, wouldn’t be worthy until all the poison had been bled from his soul. With every blow that rained on his back, more poison seeped from him. But would it ever be enough, or would he become addicted to the pain, needing more and more of it to feel the peace that came afterwards?

He bit back the cry that rose to his lips as the lash cut his skin, and after the fierce burn, he felt a warm rivulet of blood dribbling down his violated skin, soaking into the waistband of his jeans. Yes, his tormentor finally understood. He needed her to beat him like a bad dog. She had to make him pay for his sins.

~ . ~

By the time the dominatrix came to her senses, the man had multiple rivulets of blood dribbling down his back, but still he held on to the shackles on the rack. He had taken all twenty lashes without using the safe word, which made this a dangerous situation, for her as well as for him. If she couldn’t control herself, and he didn’t stop her, where would it end?

“It’s over,” she said loudly, expecting that he would let go of the shackles and reach for his shirt, as he had before.

But after letting go of the shackles, he slowly sank to the floor, remaining on his knees and hugging himself as if to keep the pain inside. She ripped her mask off and ran to him as fast as her stiletto boots allowed. From close up his wounds looked bad, and she cursed herself for losing control. She touched the man’s shoulder with her gloved hand, but he didn’t respond to her touch.

“Are you alright?” she asked, tugging more urgently at his shoulder.

He took a deep breath and turned to her. “Like that,” he said in a husky voice. “That’s what I want, just like that, every time.”

She was unaware that her mouth had dropped open as she stared at him, noticing how his blue eyes glittered in the dimly lit room, as if a light came from inside them. Whether it was the light of near insanity she couldn’t say for sure, but it made her feel sick to her stomach.

* * * *

Chapter Two

Karl glanced at Nancy, who sat beside him on the veranda of her house in Sandton. On the large green lawn in front of them, Danny played with the boy from next door. After their return from their holiday on the North Coast of South Africa, Danny looked tanned and healthy, so different from the pale, emaciated child he had rescued from the Somali pirates.

At the same time as he remembered the rescue, the unwelcome image of Stefan broken and motionless on the deck of the pirate ship flashed through his mind. He moved uncomfortably, shaking his head slightly.

Nancy put a comforting hand on his thigh. “What’s wrong? You look as if the world’s just descended on your shoulders.”

He sighed. “It’s back to reality tomorrow, I guess.”

She stroked his thigh gently. “It doesn’t have to be.”

He turned to her, a slight frown on his forehead. “I don’t understand.”

“You could stay longer, or maybe forever.”

Karl’s frown deepened. “I thought we agreed that once we’re married, our home will be on La Montagne.”

“I know, but these past ten days have been heavenly. It was so nice to see you on the beach, just being a normal father to your son.”

“I am a normal father. What are you getting at?”

“You’re not a normal father, Karl, not really. I worry about what might happen to Danny if you were suddenly…gone. He’s grown so attached to you that I fear he might never recover.”

“What’s brought this on?” he said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

Nancy clasped both her hands in her lap. She stared at Danny and his friend clambering on the jungle gym for a few moments before she took a deep breath. “I can’t stop thinking about…Stefan and Marcelle. It’s been ten months, and nobody knows if Stefan’s even still alive. It’s so horrible, and I can’t imagine what Marcelle and her children must be going through.”

Karl clenched his teeth and counted to ten before he said, “Marcelle is tough, and she’s a good mother. She’ll get through this.”

“I don’t care how tough she is. The love of her life is missing, presumed dead, and one day her little boys are going to want to know where Stefan is.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Karl said, keeping his tone even while trying to relax the tension gathering between his shoulder blades.

“Have you seen Marcelle recently? I just assumed that I would run into her on La Montagne, but Charlotte told me she hasn’t been back since she left with her kids.”

Karl cleared his throat. “I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“While Stefan was in hospital you were all over her, and now you’re just ignoring her? Why?”

“I’ve been busy with the search for Stefan, and running Omega, and visiting you and Danny. And in between all that, I’ve led a few missions in Europe, and two in Africa. We’re running short of senior personnel with Heinrich and me sharing the administrative duties. I’m going to appoint a senior man to do the admin, because Heinrich and I are required in the field. Our expertise is wasted behind a desk.”

“But you’re safe there.”

Karl stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you think it’s time?”

“For what?”

“Karl, you have me, and you have Danny. Imagine how we would feel if one day…”

“Get to the point, Nancy.”

“I just mean I would sleep better if I knew you were safe. You asked me last week to marry you, and I said I would think about it. But all I’ve been able to think about is…” She pressed her hands to her mouth. “I can’t say it.”

Karl didn’t answer her, keeping his eyes focused on the boys playing in the yard.

When Nancy touched his arm, he stiffened. “Is this what you think about all day? Me dead and you alone? I thought we’d moved past that?”

“I can’t get past it. Every day I think about Marcelle and imagine her pain, and I know I wouldn’t survive it if that had to happen to us. Her children are too young to remember Stefan, but Danny is turning eight next year.”

“I’m trying to think where this conversation is leading. What are you trying to achieve here?”

“I want you to choose us. Choose life. Be with us.” When Karl didn’t answer she carried on fervently, “I’ll marry you and live on La Montagne with you. I’ll give up my job and my friends and everything I know. We can have more children, anything you want. I love you, so much.”

Karl jumped to his feet, his agitation not allowing him to remain seated. “I seem to recall we’ve had this conversation before.”

“I know what I said in Mozambique.”

“And?”

“My viewpoint hasn’t changed.”

“You just learned to hide it a bit better, didn’t you?” Karl said, a sneer marring his handsome features. “You thought if you gave me time to get attached to Danny, I might give in this time, and let you neuter me for good.”

“Neuter? What do you mean?”

“What do you think it would do to me to watch my men go on missions while I sit behind a desk? I’m still a young man, and in the best shape of my life. My skills are in demand on the battlefield, and the war we’re fighting against terrorism is far from over.”

“But Danny…”

“What about Danny? I love him, but I’d prefer it if he remembered me as a man who fought for what he believed in, rather than a weakling who spent his time behind a desk so his wife could feel secure. Do you realize what you’re asking me do? You might as well cut my balls off and put them on your mantelpiece as a trophy.”

“That’s not what I want. Please, just listen to me.”

“I have listened to you. You’re singing the same tune you sang in Mozambique and I didn’t fall for it then, nor am I falling for it now.”

Nancy’s back stiffened. “You’re being very disrespectful. I don’t deserve this.” She wrung her hands together in her lap until her knuckles showed white. “I want you to think about this, and I want you to choose. I deserve more than what you’re giving me.”

Karl’s mouth fell open in surprise. “You mean my love isn’t enough? I’ve taken you back into my life, despite the circumstances of your rescue. Despite the fact that my best friend is missing, possibly dead, and his wife is in agony. I’ve looked past all that and loved you and Danny anyway. And now you say that isn’t enough.”

“True love demands sacrifice.”

Karl laughed incredulously. “Sacrifice? What about the sacrifice Marcelle has made? Her husband is gone. My friend is gone. We made sacrifices so that you could live. But what have you sacrificed?”

Nancy remained silent and dropped her gaze to her lap.

“Tell me!” he shouted with such vehemence that she jumped in her seat.

“I feel as if you hate me right now,” she said in a small voice.

“Hate is overrated as an emotion,” he said coldly. “I warned you if you started your shit again, I would walk away without looking back. Well, consider me gone.”

“But what about Danny?”

“I won’t let you use him as a weapon against me. Call me if you want him to visit and I’ll send the plane for him.” He shrugged. “Or don’t. But whatever you do, you’ll have to answer for it when he’s older.”

Nancy stared at him, her eyes bright with tears. “I guess I was a fool thinking this could work.”

“No, I was the fool to let you draw me back in again. Goodbye, Nancy.”

Without a further word, he strode into the house and grabbed his bags, still packed from their trip to the coast.

Five minutes later, he was in his rented BMW, speeding up the street, heading for the airport. But the anger seething inside him needed an outlet and a short while later he pulled into a side street and cut the engine.

For a few seconds he sat motionless, trying to bring himself under control. But his breathing increased as he lost the battle, and he roared with rage as he slammed both his fists onto the steering wheel, again and again as his fury rose inside him like a tidal wave.

Long minutes passed before his anger ebbed, leaving him wrung out and breathless.

He should have taken the time to say goodbye to Danny before he left, he thought, filled with regret as he imagined the boy’s surprise to find him gone. But Nancy had left him no choice. The moment she had started speaking about Marcelle the scene had been set for a confrontation.

He has made every effort to get over what happened to Marcelle and Stefan, and move on with his life, and it was partly the reason why he’s avoided contact with Marcelle. He moved uncomfortably at the thought, remembering the vow he had made. But instead of keeping his vow, he had chased his own happiness, enjoying a carefree holiday while Marcelle suffered and Stefan remained lost.

Inadvertently Nancy had reminded him of that fact, while at the same time pushing her own agenda. Instinctively he knew that getting out of there had been the right thing to do. He had left before he said things he could never recall. The amount of anger he still felt towards Nancy had astonished him. He thought he had moved past all that, but the mere mention of Marcelle and her pain about the loss of Stefan had brought it all to the fore again. Without knowing it, Nancy had pushed all the wrong buttons and sabotaged herself in the process.

The guilt settled heavily on his shoulders. He could never give Nancy what she wanted, and he could never give Marcelle back what she needed. But maybe he should at least try.

~ . ~

Karl checked into the Southern Sun Airport hotel but declined the porter’s offer to carry his bags to his room, preferring to do it himself. He had no choice but to stay overnight, because the Omega jet was only due to pick him up the next morning, and wasn’t even on route yet, which was fortunate. He picked up his phone and made the call to cancel the jet. He planned to take a commercial flight to his next destination.

* * * *

Chapter Three

Marcelle sighed as she pushed open the door of her hotel room in Stuttgart, Germany. She had hoped that winning the world championships for a fourth time might lift her spirits, even if just for a little while, but after the press conference she had felt her mood plummeting. Perhaps the celebrations later would lift her spirits. Several of the French riders were staying in the same hotel, and they planned to meet in the bar downstairs later that evening.

After a long, hot shower, she dressed in a comfortable gray tracksuit and stretched out on top of the covers of the double bed. She was exhausted from her exertions earlier in the day, and fell asleep within minutes.

~ . ~

When she opened her eyes a few hours later, she saw Karl sitting on a chair beside her bed. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. But Karl still sat there, watching her with kindness in his eyes. Her heart plummeted. He had to be the bearer of bad news. She sat up, and without warning, tears spilled from her eyes. No, no, no, no.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sniff. “It’s just a bit of a shock, seeing you here. Is Stefan still alive?”

Karl leaned forward and took one of her hands in his. “To be honest, Tiger, we don’t know. It’s been ten months, and we’ve found no sign of him.”

She stared at the lines of hardship around his mouth, and wondered if Kris had them too. The twins were suffering, not knowing what had happened to the cousin that they had come to regard as a brother.

She flicked her tears away with impatient fingers, angry with herself for having such a fragile hold on her feelings. “So why are you here then?”

“Do I need a reason to see my favorite sister in law?”

Marcelle tried but failed to smile. “I guess not.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and rose to her feet.

Karl jumped to his feet and grabbed her shoulder to steady her as she swayed for a moment before finding her balance.

She grimaced. “Sorry, low blood pressure. I shouldn’t get up so fast. And today’s race was hard.”

“For you, Tiger? I can’t believe that.”

“I’m not as fit as I usually am. Yes, I could still give those girls a hiding, but I had to put a lot of effort into it.”

“Well, congratulations. World champion again. But I thought you were planning to sit this season out, and have a baby.”

Marcelle led the way to a couch and sat down. Karl settled next to her.

“Yes, that was the plan,” she said. At Karl’s questioning expression she continued, “They implanted four embryos, and not one of them took. Actually, one of them did take, but I miscarried after six weeks.”

Karl pulled her into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I know you had hoped to draw comfort from carrying Jean-Michel’s child.”

She snuggled against his chest. “Even that has been denied me. The doctors said we can try again in a few months, but I’ve decided against it. I’ve realized that I’m really in a bad headspace right now. The miscarriage was probably nature’s way of protecting me. I’m hardly in a fit state to deal with the hormone changes of pregnancy.”

“So you started training again.”

“Yes, though I had missed most of the season, I trained and gained enough fitness to participate in the Tour de Feminin, and that brought me to race fitness to do world champs. And here I am.”

“And where are the boys?”

“With their grandparents. They’re happy to take care of them. They feel as if they’re getting a second chance with Jean-Michel. They’ve shown me his baby photos, and the resemblance is uncanny. Perhaps this will help them to heal too.”

“But what about Nicky?”

“They regard me as their daughter, and Nicky is a part of me, so as far they’re concerned he’s family too. They call him Nicholas instead of Nikolai, but I guess the French form is easier for them to pronounce.”

“When last did you see them?”

She sat up, moving out of his embrace. “About two months ago,” she said, an expression of guilt passing over her face. “But the season is over now, so I’ll be returning to the farm to be with them again. I’m sure they haven’t even missed me.”

“Are they talking yet?”

Marcelle smiled softly. “Just baby talk so far, but I’m sure they’ll get there.”

“Well, the reason I’m here is to invite you to La Montagne for the off season, the same as always. It’s your home too, you know.”

She shrugged, tears glistening in her eyes. “How can it be my home if Stefan isn’t there?”

“But we’re there, and your friends are there. Everyone would love to see the twins and spend some time with you. You’re family. Please Marcelle. Even if you just come for a month to brush up on your training. Remember you’re a rich woman, and therefore a target for kidnapping. I’m glad to see you’re still wearing your watch.”

Marcelle lovingly stroked over the gleaming timepiece on her wrist. “I never take it off. I don’t want to disappear without a trace again.”

“How do you think I tracked you to Germany?” Karl said with a wink. “Have you considered getting something similar for the twins? If you bring them to La Montagne we can explore a few options for a wrist or ankle band.”

“Actually that’s a great idea.” A shadow flitted across her face. “If I had to lose them too, I don’t know what I would do. But I guess they’re safe for now. I mean the world doesn’t even know of their existence. I was on La Montagne for my entire pregnancy, so there were no paparazzi pictures to entertain the public.”

“Best we keep it that way. Can you imagine if they knew? You wouldn’t have a moment of peace.”

“That’s why I took them straight to the farm. I had promised Jean-Michel that his children would grow up on the farm and get to know the wine business. Of course, I had hoped that he would be the one teaching them, but his father is still young enough to do it, so I guess that’s fine. But it would only be fair for them to spend time on La Montagne too, so that Nicky can learn about what his father has built.”

Karl smiled, but he had a sad look in his eyes. Clearly, he didn’t have much hope of finding Stefan after more than ten months.

“But I’ll continue to keep their existence a secret. They haven’t been to my apartment even. Not even my teammates know I have two children. Only Claude knows, and Anthony, and of course Doc Louis. But not Pierre-Henri. I still haven’t forgiven him for that time he gave me amphetamines and nearly killed me.”

Karl nodded. “Stefan wanted to sort him out for that, but the doc made him promise to behave.”

“Is Stefan really gone, Karl? Have you looked, really looked?”

“We’ve used all of Omega’s resources, and we’ll keep doing so. Sooner or later he has to surface.”

“If he’s still alive.”

Karl grimaced. “If he’s still alive.”

Marcelle stared down at her hands. “The thing I miss the most is being held. I miss his arms holding me tight when I feel like I’m ready to fall apart. I need his arms around me now, but I’m alone. I thought that winning the world champs would make me feel lighter, but it only lasted a few minutes.”

Karl moved closer and put his arms around her, cradling the back of her head in the palm of his right hand before pressing her face against his chest. “I’ll hold you, Marcelle, for as long as you need me to. I know it’s not the same, but it’s all I can offer.”

# # #

The joys of sleeping on a recliner

Some of the best naps I’ve enjoyed have been on a recliner, specifically the one I normally use when I write. A few years ago, after the second operation on my right knee, my orthopaedic surgeon suggested to me that sitting at a desk with my knees bent at ninety degrees might not be the best option for me. Being a writer, which normally would involve sitting at a desk, I thought about this for a while, and came up with a great solution, which resulted in me buying my first recliner. Of course I wasn’t trying to write while in a reclined position. What I was really interested in was the front part of the recliner that elevated my feet, which kept my knees in a slightly flexed position, just as my doctor suggested.

I also bought one of those laptop stands with the cooling fans built in, so that I could rest my laptop on my thighs. And that’s how I’ve been writing the past couple of years. Of course the best benefit of writing like that, is that even with the backrest of the recliner in the upright position, it’s really comfortable. This can present a problem at times, because sometimes, when I’m really thinking deeply about what’s going to happen next, and I get into a bit of a dreamy state, I drop off to sleep.

The advantage of that is that it allows my subconscious to come to the rescue and supply me with the next part of the story, and it’s really great when that happens. If not, I’ve lost an hour or two of the day, oops. I think that part of the reason why I fall asleep is that I’m constantly running in the red when it comes to sleep, so any time I get too comfortable I run the risk of dropping off.

Why am I running in the red, you might ask. Well, to summarize, somewhere around the age of thirty five I developed a fear of sleeping. That was when, for some inexplicable reason, I started waking up at three in the morning, in the middle of a fight or flight reaction. Medically it’s called a panic attack, or an anxiety attack, but basically it’s the result of a massive release of adrenalin while asleep, and boy is that a nasty way to wake up. You’re filled with intense fear, except that there nothing there to be afraid of, your heart is hammering, you’re hyperventilating and shivering and consumed with an insane desire to go outside and just run. From what? There’s nothing there. But try telling your body that.

Of course all medical technology could offer was sedation, which didn’t work, mainly because I found that while it could dull your senses, it didn’t take care of the panic, and I hated not being in control, so I gave that up after a short while.

Sleeping became a problem, but by resisting my body’s desire to sleep, I inadvertently stumbled onto the solution. By going to bed at three in the morning, I avoided the panic attack and normally slept through until eight, by which time the house was normally so noisy that it was difficult for me to continue sleeping. So that’s five hours at least. Certainly better than nothing, but an hour in the afternoon is often irresistible.

And what do I normally do until three in the morning? I watch TV, read, work on my latest manuscript, or just wander around the house. Being a bit of an introvert (more than just a bit), I’ve grown to relish the silence in the house while my family is sleeping, and quite frankly, after ten years it has become a habit.

But let’s get back to the fact that I’ve had some of my best naps on a recliner. Just an update to my post, “Disappointed“, I did finally have my knee operation on February 18, when all my blood levels were back to normal. I then had to wait a few months for my knee to heal before I could have my shoulder fixed up. And all that from one misstep off a ladder? Freakin’ unbelievable. Anyway, before I went to hospital on May 28 for the operation on my left shoulder, I wondered to myself how I would sleep for the six weeks that my arm would be in a sling. And then I remembered about my recliner, and how it would probably be a great idea to sleep on my back in a slightly raised position.

My mind made up, a few days before my operation I bought a new recliner for my bedroom. Of course my kitties all had to test drive it first, but when they realized that I was giving them my bed, with the electric blanket permanently switched on, they decided I could have my recliner.

We got here first!

And wow, I wish I had realized before how comfortable this would be. I used to wake up in the morning feeling as if I was broken, mainly due to five heavy kitties piling onto me the minute I got horizontal, twisting my body into all kinds of unnatural positions. Just try to imagine having traction that’s pulling in five different directions all at the same time.

I found there are two advantages to sleeping on a recliner. Firstly I’m held in position very securely, so no chance of turning onto my side by accident and hurting my shoulder. And because I’m sleeping on my back, no sleep wrinkles from mashing my face into a pillow. What a bonus, I look younger already. ;) I’m seriously considering continuing to sleep this way even once my shoulder is healed, which could take a while. Even though I can stop using the sling in about two weeks time, I’m still looking at a few months of physiotherapy before this arm is going to be anything close fully functional.

But I know the burning question here is whether I’m able to work on the next Blackstone book while my shoulder is healing. Well, for the first two weeks after the operation my left arm was completely out of action, and I spent my time watching TV and listening to music and reading and trying anything that kept me from going out of my mind. Yep, I hate being helpless and the truth of the matter is you need two hands for just about everything.

Accepting help from my family for things that I took for granted was difficult for me. One weekend we went to my brother’s house for a barbeque, after my sister had helped me dress, my mother had tied up my hair and my father had laced up my boots. And at the barbecue my sister casually leaned over and cut my meat into small little blocks that I could just pick up with a fork. Yes, that’s love and I felt about five years old. Ugh.

Anyway, those of you who want to know what was wrong with my shoulder. In the fall that I described in the post, “Disappointed”, what had actually happened was that I had torn my bicep tendon and injured my AC joint, which is a little joint on the top of the shoulder that helps with the rotation of your shoulder. Anytime you reach across your body, let’s say to put on your safety belt, you’ve used your AC joint. And if you reach up for something above your head, your AC joint is at work again.

So anyway, after the operation my doc said that he had managed to repair the tendon successfully, but he’d had to shave away a lot of bone to get my AC joint functional again, which in fact had already been compromised even before I fell. According to him it was one of the worst cases of shoulder impingement he had ever seen, which explained why my left arm had been practically useless before the operation. Basically the narrowing of my AC joint, combined with the injury sustained in the fall had trapped the tendons of my shoulder resulting in pain and reduced mobility.

I remember even while finishing Somali Sunrise that I had been in intense pain from my shoulder, and had to take regular breaks because my chest muscles kept cramping. Oh, the pain of creation. ;)

The good news is that by the third week after my shoulder operation I was able to get back into a regular schedule of writing. I managed that by propping my elbow up on the arm of my new recliner, thereby supporting my shoulder, and then releasing the clip of my sling so that I could rest the heel of my hand on the palm rest of my laptop. From there it was easy for me to reach the keys of my laptop and type quite comfortably without straining my shoulder or upper arm at all. I include a photo for illustration.

Yoda keeping watch and editing as I write. LOL.

Of course, Yoda, one of my kitties, decided that she would help to keep my arm steady by providing support. She’s such a little darling and guards me day and night. I think she senses that I need a little extra help at the moment. And of course we enjoy wonderful naps together.

But I’m quite confident that I’m on schedule to publish the third Blackstone book by December. And as always, I’ll announce it here first.