V.L. Locey's Blog, page 108
September 5, 2013
On The Road Again . . .
I sure love visiting other blogs, meeting new friends, and chatting about books, hockey, and romance.
Today I`m spending some time at Chris T. Kat`s lovely blog to talk about Goaltender`s Penalty, acceptance in professional sports, and to share an excerpt as well. We`d love it if you stopped !n to say hi!
The Fuzzy, Fluffy World of Chris T. Kat
September 2, 2013
Tuesday Tales - Building
Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales again. This week I`ll be sharing an excerpt from my new adult WIP (Work In Progress) Love of the Hunter, an M/M mythological romance.
In today`s excerpt-Some time has passed. Apollo has decided to allow whatever may grow between him and Orion to flourish, as the goddess of love suggested. Apollo had just promised Orion, after checking his eyes and seeing more small signs of healing, that someday soon Orion would join him as he hunts for food.
This week our word prompt is ‘Building’. Since this is a rough draft there may be some mistakes. I do apologize for any boo-boo you may find.
Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!
And from that moment, the regimen was begun: a similar routine from day to day, one that would find me more and more anxious every morn to find my fellow hunter. A complete phase of the moon passes in this manner. I am happy. I try my best to not let Helios see the change in me. I am never tardy in my chores. He has no reason to flog me. I suspect he grows angry at being deprived his whipping boy.
Days are spent with Orion, Kedalion, and Eurus at the lake, laughing and talking, wading and telling tales. I sit beside the dark-haired son of the sea, our feet in the cold waters of the deep blue lake, and we talk about everything and nothing. Kedalion gathers firewood or fish, or goes off into the woods to pick berries or other greens. I am falling in love with the most handsome of the earth born. It is on one such fine day that Orion and I first kiss.
We are seated by the lake; Orion has been stripped of his swaddling and now is encouraged to let the sun touch his face whenever possible. I think the warmth and wind will help with the extremely slow healing process. Deep inside, I worry that my touch will not be sufficient. His eyes are now fully restored, but they are milky white. His arms are braced behind him, his dark curls blowing in the zephyrs off the water, his cheeks flushed with pink health. I enjoy seeing him thusly.
“Tell me a story, Far-Shooter,” he implores. I wiggle my bare toes in the water to scare off a small fish that wishes to nibble upon my digits.
“I have told you a story a day, my friend,” I counter, glancing to my left. “Perhaps ’tis time you tell me one?”
“I am no teller of tales, not like you. Your words . . . they seem to flow from you like water rolling over a fall. I love hearing you speak. The cadence, the rhyme, the emotion behind your words is natural and emotive and makes me yearn to -- to--”
I sit up straighter. Orion pushes up from his relaxed position. A lark sings and swoops over the lake, hoping to catch an insect for its mid-day meal.
“Makes you yearn to do what?” I inquire. He works his reply over, chewing the words well. I sit and wait, the sun beating hotly on the side of my face, and I cannot help but tease him. “Are my poems so bad that you yearn to dash your head against a rock? Throw yourself from a precipice? Slice off your ears with a dagger?”
I am not prepared for the lunge he makes at me. Even without sight, the hunter is accurate. His hands grab my head, and his mouth slants over mine. His lips are sun-warmed and carry a hint of the apples I brought him for breakfast. He draws back after a moment of our lips pressed together, a burning need buildinginside me.
“Your words make me wish to do that,” Orion whispers, his fingers gently caressing my soft cheeks. “I hope I do not overstep my bounds, son of Zeus,” he adds with concern. I smile then recall he cannot see my pleasure, so I shake my head, and then smile wider at my silliness for he cannot see my shaking head, either.
“If my poems affect you so, I shall bring several poems on the morrow and read them to you. When the last is done I shall lay you down amid rose petals and willows blows and make love to you,” I tell him, then push him back to the stony shore to kiss him deeply.
Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Thanks for stopping in to visit! For more free reads by great authors follow the link back to the Tuesday Tales main blog.
Tuesday Tales
See you next week!
In today`s excerpt-Some time has passed. Apollo has decided to allow whatever may grow between him and Orion to flourish, as the goddess of love suggested. Apollo had just promised Orion, after checking his eyes and seeing more small signs of healing, that someday soon Orion would join him as he hunts for food.
This week our word prompt is ‘Building’. Since this is a rough draft there may be some mistakes. I do apologize for any boo-boo you may find.
Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!
And from that moment, the regimen was begun: a similar routine from day to day, one that would find me more and more anxious every morn to find my fellow hunter. A complete phase of the moon passes in this manner. I am happy. I try my best to not let Helios see the change in me. I am never tardy in my chores. He has no reason to flog me. I suspect he grows angry at being deprived his whipping boy.
Days are spent with Orion, Kedalion, and Eurus at the lake, laughing and talking, wading and telling tales. I sit beside the dark-haired son of the sea, our feet in the cold waters of the deep blue lake, and we talk about everything and nothing. Kedalion gathers firewood or fish, or goes off into the woods to pick berries or other greens. I am falling in love with the most handsome of the earth born. It is on one such fine day that Orion and I first kiss.
We are seated by the lake; Orion has been stripped of his swaddling and now is encouraged to let the sun touch his face whenever possible. I think the warmth and wind will help with the extremely slow healing process. Deep inside, I worry that my touch will not be sufficient. His eyes are now fully restored, but they are milky white. His arms are braced behind him, his dark curls blowing in the zephyrs off the water, his cheeks flushed with pink health. I enjoy seeing him thusly.
“Tell me a story, Far-Shooter,” he implores. I wiggle my bare toes in the water to scare off a small fish that wishes to nibble upon my digits.
“I have told you a story a day, my friend,” I counter, glancing to my left. “Perhaps ’tis time you tell me one?”
“I am no teller of tales, not like you. Your words . . . they seem to flow from you like water rolling over a fall. I love hearing you speak. The cadence, the rhyme, the emotion behind your words is natural and emotive and makes me yearn to -- to--”
I sit up straighter. Orion pushes up from his relaxed position. A lark sings and swoops over the lake, hoping to catch an insect for its mid-day meal.
“Makes you yearn to do what?” I inquire. He works his reply over, chewing the words well. I sit and wait, the sun beating hotly on the side of my face, and I cannot help but tease him. “Are my poems so bad that you yearn to dash your head against a rock? Throw yourself from a precipice? Slice off your ears with a dagger?”
I am not prepared for the lunge he makes at me. Even without sight, the hunter is accurate. His hands grab my head, and his mouth slants over mine. His lips are sun-warmed and carry a hint of the apples I brought him for breakfast. He draws back after a moment of our lips pressed together, a burning need buildinginside me.
“Your words make me wish to do that,” Orion whispers, his fingers gently caressing my soft cheeks. “I hope I do not overstep my bounds, son of Zeus,” he adds with concern. I smile then recall he cannot see my pleasure, so I shake my head, and then smile wider at my silliness for he cannot see my shaking head, either.
“If my poems affect you so, I shall bring several poems on the morrow and read them to you. When the last is done I shall lay you down amid rose petals and willows blows and make love to you,” I tell him, then push him back to the stony shore to kiss him deeply.
Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Thanks for stopping in to visit! For more free reads by great authors follow the link back to the Tuesday Tales main blog.
Tuesday Tales
See you next week!
Happy Labor Day!
To all my friends who celebrate!
August 31, 2013
And the Winner is . . .
Kaisquared!
Congratulations on winning the PDF version of Two Guys Walk Into An Apocalypse 2: It Came From Birmingham. Check your email for your free book Kaisquared, and thanks to all for supporting the Back to School Blog Hop. It was a pleasure to meet all of you, and I hope we can hop again soon!
Yours in love and laughter,
V.L. Locey
August 30, 2013
Dear Jon - Chapter # 5
The next chapter in my M/M historical romance Dear Jon is up over at Storytime Trysts.
I hope you enjoy this romantic trip back in time.
Storytime Trysts
August 28, 2013
It`s A Great Day For Hockey!
To quote ‘Badger’ Bob Johnson.
First thing I need to do before I start gushing about hockey and the sexy men that play it, is to say thank you to Torquere Press for including Goaltender`s Penalty in their Scoring anthology. I`m still over the moon about it! Or maybe over the goalie`s net is more apropos.
I`m quite thrilled to be able to bring this story to the public for a few reasons. One, obviously, is that I love the game of hockey. I am a rabidly roaring New York Rangers fan, while my husband is a backer of the Boston Bruins. Hockey has become a huge part of our lives, and serves to bring our family together whenever a game is on, as my daughter is a fan of the sport as well.
Secondly, being able to portray a gay love affair blossoming in the world of ice hockey was a joy. To my knowledge, no one in the NHL has come out as being gay- yet - but the powers that be in the National Hockey League are a step ahead. The NHL has taken a firm stand and announced that they will punish any player who harasses another player about his sexuality. That is incredibly strong stuff and I applaud the NHL for taking such a stance. It`s quite encouraging to see other sports following suit in the fight against passive homophobia in the world of professional athletics.
To see how you can team up with me, other authors, and NHL players for respect, check out the You Can Play Project.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXoTRTAw6Dc&feature=youtube_gdata_player
http://youcanplayproject.org/
*~*
In my story you`ll meet Daryl Hamilton, an openly out gay man who works as a daycare provider. After Daryl attends his first hockey game he has a memorable run-in with the goalie for the Harrison Hawks. Ryan Amirault. When the two meet, it`s not the romantic or glorious first impression that Daryl had hoped for. Goaltender`s Penalty is filled with entertaining secondary characters, ice hockey action, a powerful romance between a man who is out and man who is afraid to come out due, steamy sex, and of course, humor. This novella, while being rather light-hearted, does touch upon some important issues as well.
Goaltender`s Penalty is just one of several stories in the Scoring anthology. I`m betting that you`ll want some asbestos gloves to hold your eReader with!
Here`s a little excerpt from Goaltender`s Penalty. This scene takes place after the rather gruesome meeting between Ryan and Daryl. Daryl has taken a pain pill and is in a rather . . . comical state, shall we say?
***
The ride home was a psychedelic trip. The cars passing the Lincoln left multi-colored plumes behind them. I was singing that theme song from the old PBS show The Magic School Bus because I washaving one hell of a wild ride, just as the song promised. Ryan didn't look much like Miss Frizzle though, but then again my eyes were nearly swollen shut. I tried to get a clearer look. He placed his big hand on my shoulder and pushed me gently back into my seat.
“You need to stop singing that stupid bus song,” Ryan said with a small trace of humor. Or was it aggravation? Oh who knows?! “You are just too cute! Sing along with me,” I giggled. I love Percocet. “No. I think you enjoy it too much,” Ryan frowned, wheeling into my apartment complex. I threw up my hands and yelled ‘Wooooo!’ as if we were going through Space Mountain, which in a way we were. Or I was anyway. “Please?” I pleaded as we cruised past the A and B buildings. I couldn't see much but a purple fuzzy outline of his profile but I could hear him blow out a long breath. “I do not know the words.”“Oh, your pants are on fire for that, liar. Wait . . . that's not quite right.”He sang the song but it was begrudgingly. I clapped and bounced in my seat. “I love it! That is precocious! No, I think I meant something else. Oh, are we stopping? Did we see Mickey Mouse yet?” I craned my head around to peek through the rear window.
“No, we did not see Mickey.” His voice was fading in and out, and then disappeared. Ah well. It was nice and warm in here. My ass was toasty. My face didn't hurt at all. My brain was okey-dokey, the good Dr. Whatever told me. He gave me ten little pills to take for the pain and a slip for a week off work. I had called my boss, told her I had been mugged, hung up and popped a happy pill. And now here we were!
Where were we?A cold gust blew over me. I turned from Old Man Winter, wanting nothing more than to curl into this heated throne and take a long nap. Oh man, look at the pretty blue numbers! I poked the stereo numerals gently, lest they get angry with me. Someone was unbuckling me. Their hands moved over my hip, searching for the little hooky thing. What the hell is that called? WOW! This man has hair like the sun! I must touch it!
“You want to get your fingers out of my nose?”“Sorry,” I snorted. Oh mercy, did it hurt to snort. My mouth was as dry as a spinster's whiskey cupboard. “Where are we?” I asked as he helped me from the Lincoln to the ground.“We are at your apartment building.” Ryan hiked me up higher on his side. “Building C, yes?” “Yes.” I leaned into him. He was so strong and firm. My left foot felt like it had suddenly fallen off. I screamed bloody murder. Thankfully my big strong Canuck located my foot and reattached it via super goalie powers of mind control. It didn't even hurt. We paused at the bottom of the stairs. I was rubbing my cheek on Ryan's shoulder like a sexed-up tabby cat.
“You think you can do steps?” he asked after an eternity passed. I had visited ancient Rome while we waited. I met Caesar there and had one of his salads. “Hail Caesar!” “Never mind,” he muttered.
***
If you`re interested in grabbing a copy of Goaltender`s Penalty, skate on over to the Torquere Press site-
Goaltender`s Penalty
If you`d like to get a copy of the Scoring anthology, you can find it at the Torquere Press site here-
Scoring Anthology
I love to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-
Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/pages/VL-Locey/124405447678452
Twitter- https://twitter.com/vllocey
Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5807700.V_L_Locey
First thing I need to do before I start gushing about hockey and the sexy men that play it, is to say thank you to Torquere Press for including Goaltender`s Penalty in their Scoring anthology. I`m still over the moon about it! Or maybe over the goalie`s net is more apropos.
I`m quite thrilled to be able to bring this story to the public for a few reasons. One, obviously, is that I love the game of hockey. I am a rabidly roaring New York Rangers fan, while my husband is a backer of the Boston Bruins. Hockey has become a huge part of our lives, and serves to bring our family together whenever a game is on, as my daughter is a fan of the sport as well.
Secondly, being able to portray a gay love affair blossoming in the world of ice hockey was a joy. To my knowledge, no one in the NHL has come out as being gay- yet - but the powers that be in the National Hockey League are a step ahead. The NHL has taken a firm stand and announced that they will punish any player who harasses another player about his sexuality. That is incredibly strong stuff and I applaud the NHL for taking such a stance. It`s quite encouraging to see other sports following suit in the fight against passive homophobia in the world of professional athletics.
To see how you can team up with me, other authors, and NHL players for respect, check out the You Can Play Project.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXoTRTAw6Dc&feature=youtube_gdata_player
http://youcanplayproject.org/
*~*
In my story you`ll meet Daryl Hamilton, an openly out gay man who works as a daycare provider. After Daryl attends his first hockey game he has a memorable run-in with the goalie for the Harrison Hawks. Ryan Amirault. When the two meet, it`s not the romantic or glorious first impression that Daryl had hoped for. Goaltender`s Penalty is filled with entertaining secondary characters, ice hockey action, a powerful romance between a man who is out and man who is afraid to come out due, steamy sex, and of course, humor. This novella, while being rather light-hearted, does touch upon some important issues as well.
Goaltender`s Penalty is just one of several stories in the Scoring anthology. I`m betting that you`ll want some asbestos gloves to hold your eReader with!
Here`s a little excerpt from Goaltender`s Penalty. This scene takes place after the rather gruesome meeting between Ryan and Daryl. Daryl has taken a pain pill and is in a rather . . . comical state, shall we say?
***
The ride home was a psychedelic trip. The cars passing the Lincoln left multi-colored plumes behind them. I was singing that theme song from the old PBS show The Magic School Bus because I washaving one hell of a wild ride, just as the song promised. Ryan didn't look much like Miss Frizzle though, but then again my eyes were nearly swollen shut. I tried to get a clearer look. He placed his big hand on my shoulder and pushed me gently back into my seat.
“You need to stop singing that stupid bus song,” Ryan said with a small trace of humor. Or was it aggravation? Oh who knows?! “You are just too cute! Sing along with me,” I giggled. I love Percocet. “No. I think you enjoy it too much,” Ryan frowned, wheeling into my apartment complex. I threw up my hands and yelled ‘Wooooo!’ as if we were going through Space Mountain, which in a way we were. Or I was anyway. “Please?” I pleaded as we cruised past the A and B buildings. I couldn't see much but a purple fuzzy outline of his profile but I could hear him blow out a long breath. “I do not know the words.”“Oh, your pants are on fire for that, liar. Wait . . . that's not quite right.”He sang the song but it was begrudgingly. I clapped and bounced in my seat. “I love it! That is precocious! No, I think I meant something else. Oh, are we stopping? Did we see Mickey Mouse yet?” I craned my head around to peek through the rear window.
“No, we did not see Mickey.” His voice was fading in and out, and then disappeared. Ah well. It was nice and warm in here. My ass was toasty. My face didn't hurt at all. My brain was okey-dokey, the good Dr. Whatever told me. He gave me ten little pills to take for the pain and a slip for a week off work. I had called my boss, told her I had been mugged, hung up and popped a happy pill. And now here we were!
Where were we?A cold gust blew over me. I turned from Old Man Winter, wanting nothing more than to curl into this heated throne and take a long nap. Oh man, look at the pretty blue numbers! I poked the stereo numerals gently, lest they get angry with me. Someone was unbuckling me. Their hands moved over my hip, searching for the little hooky thing. What the hell is that called? WOW! This man has hair like the sun! I must touch it!
“You want to get your fingers out of my nose?”“Sorry,” I snorted. Oh mercy, did it hurt to snort. My mouth was as dry as a spinster's whiskey cupboard. “Where are we?” I asked as he helped me from the Lincoln to the ground.“We are at your apartment building.” Ryan hiked me up higher on his side. “Building C, yes?” “Yes.” I leaned into him. He was so strong and firm. My left foot felt like it had suddenly fallen off. I screamed bloody murder. Thankfully my big strong Canuck located my foot and reattached it via super goalie powers of mind control. It didn't even hurt. We paused at the bottom of the stairs. I was rubbing my cheek on Ryan's shoulder like a sexed-up tabby cat.
“You think you can do steps?” he asked after an eternity passed. I had visited ancient Rome while we waited. I met Caesar there and had one of his salads. “Hail Caesar!” “Never mind,” he muttered.
***
If you`re interested in grabbing a copy of Goaltender`s Penalty, skate on over to the Torquere Press site-
Goaltender`s Penalty
If you`d like to get a copy of the Scoring anthology, you can find it at the Torquere Press site here-
Scoring Anthology
I love to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-
Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/pages/VL-Locey/124405447678452
Twitter- https://twitter.com/vllocey
Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5807700.V_L_Locey
August 26, 2013
Tuesday Tales - Wave
Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales again. This week I`ll be sharing an excerpt from my new adult WIP (Work In Progress) Love of the Hunter, an M/M mythological romance.
In today`s excerpt-After finding a cave in the deep wood to hide the archer and Kedalion in, Apollo has been tending to Orion as the handsome son of the sea god slowly heals. Apollo begins to grow more and more attracted to Orion as each day passes. After nearly bedding the adoring servant of Hephaestus in a rush of lust and misplaced confusion, the young god finds himself by a pool after walking aimlessly for hours. There is adult language in this post, so if that offends, now is the time to stop reading.
This week our word prompt is ‘Wave’. Since this is a rough draft there may be some mistakes. I do apologize for any boo-boo you may find.
Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!
I stop to rest beside a swirling pool. I hug my legs up to my chest. A shaft of moonlight dances on the spinning water. Small pockets of foam are caught in the circular play of tide and current. A fish rolls over just under the water. Tiny specks of iridescent light flicker over the water`s glowing surface. I enjoy the show from the perch I have upon a jutting chunk of rock that hangs over the eddy.
“I am sorely confused.” I speak to the fish and the water and the fey sprites that surround me. I speak to my soul and my sister and my mother and father. “I confess to loving one man yet I am not faithful to his memory. Tonight I nearly bedded a servant of my sibling`s.” I shake my head in shame. “I find myself drawn to Orion. Is this wrong?” I inquire of the lazy trout whose fins break the water while he waits for a speck of light to dance a bit closer to the spiraling surface. I stare at the small waves his appearance made. “It has been many seasons since my love left me. When does the pain end?”
I lower my head to my arms. A tickle of a wind moves over the back of my exposed neck. I raise my sight to the night sky. A swan, long and sleek and white as the moon circles overhead. It lands on the water gracefully. My brow drops back to my arms then a pair of hands dives into my hair. I jerk my head up instantly.
“I have always loved your hair, Apollo,” Aphrodite whispers. I would know her voice anywhere. It is a meadowlark on the wing, a comet streaking across the sky, a lover`s whisper on a sultry night.
I relax when she begins to draw her fingers through my hair. “Why are you here?” I ask. “Father shall be upset if he discovers you have visited me. I am exiled until I become who he wants me to be.”
She leans onto my back. Her breasts are heavy, the nipples erect. I turn my head to look into the aquamarine eyes of the goddess of love. She is so beautiful even I cannot describe her well enough. She places her lips to mine softly. Her silver-blonde hair glides over her shoulder. Her lips taste of ambrosia. She sighs then leans back on her legs to continue playing with my hair.
“Pity you are inclined as you are,” she strokes the long golden strands with a flat palm. “You are so beautiful.”
“You have Ares,” I say. She makes a sound like a disgruntled kitten. “Can you answer my question?” She pauses momentarily then resumes, her fingernails gliding over my scalp. Her touch soothes me. Perhaps it does all males. Or mayhap her touch befuddles. Is that not what love does, befuddle and confuse?
“I can, but I choose not to,” the goddess of sea foam purrs. I cast a glance at the heavens. “Do not sigh so dramatically,” she scolds, gathering my hair into a tail then letting it flutter back down to my neck and shoulders. “Love is not simple, even for gods, my passionate poet.”
I turn to look at her. Her chiton glows pearly white like the stars, hugging her voluptuous form with diaphanous clarity. I find myself compelled to stare at her mouth. To envision my cock sliding between her ripe lips as she fondles my—
“You are in a rare state, Phoebus Apollo,” Aphrodite laughs. I bristle at her amusement on my behalf, shooting to my feet. She kneels in front of me, her eyes wide and innocent.
“I can see why the war god acts such a buffoon,” I state factually. She eyes my erection yet her hands stay folded in her lap. “Why are you here if you do not seek to help me understand what has taken over my soul?”
“It is something you must discover for yourself.” She smiles up at me. I drop down and slide from the rock I had been seated on. I face the river, not her. Her powers are pushing me deeper into the bog of frustration. I scrub at my chin.
“Apollo,” she calls. I rub the back of my neck yet do not gaze upon her. “Very well, if you are afraid to look at me, so be it. I came here because I love you, as I love all who I call family.”
I raise a shoulder. Family is what we are but not by blood, not really. Aphrodite was created when my father, Zeus, threw the genitals of my grandfather Kronos into the sea after he castrated the Titan. So in reality the love goddess is blood kin to no one upon Olympus, but father is fond of her and calls her daughter, so I am expected to call her sister.
“You cannot love a memory forever, my fair one,” she says, stepping up beside me. I move away from her, fearful of falling under her powerful wiles yet again. Her hand is soft and warm upon my cheek. I fight the urge to turn my face into that palm. “Love is not meant to be hoarded or stored away, Apollo. He would not wish you to do so, nor would I. Look at what The Fates have brought you. If love blossoms then let it grow. Do not snip the tender bud before it has a chance to open.”
I give into the temptation. I place a kiss to her palm. She pats my cheek then dissipates. Her divine form turns into a whirlwind of white feathers that blow skyward then drift down to tease a hungry trout.
Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Thanks for stopping in to visit! For more free reads by great authors follow the link back to the Tuesday Tales main blog.
Tuesday Tales
See you next week!
In today`s excerpt-After finding a cave in the deep wood to hide the archer and Kedalion in, Apollo has been tending to Orion as the handsome son of the sea god slowly heals. Apollo begins to grow more and more attracted to Orion as each day passes. After nearly bedding the adoring servant of Hephaestus in a rush of lust and misplaced confusion, the young god finds himself by a pool after walking aimlessly for hours. There is adult language in this post, so if that offends, now is the time to stop reading.
This week our word prompt is ‘Wave’. Since this is a rough draft there may be some mistakes. I do apologize for any boo-boo you may find.
Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!
I stop to rest beside a swirling pool. I hug my legs up to my chest. A shaft of moonlight dances on the spinning water. Small pockets of foam are caught in the circular play of tide and current. A fish rolls over just under the water. Tiny specks of iridescent light flicker over the water`s glowing surface. I enjoy the show from the perch I have upon a jutting chunk of rock that hangs over the eddy.
“I am sorely confused.” I speak to the fish and the water and the fey sprites that surround me. I speak to my soul and my sister and my mother and father. “I confess to loving one man yet I am not faithful to his memory. Tonight I nearly bedded a servant of my sibling`s.” I shake my head in shame. “I find myself drawn to Orion. Is this wrong?” I inquire of the lazy trout whose fins break the water while he waits for a speck of light to dance a bit closer to the spiraling surface. I stare at the small waves his appearance made. “It has been many seasons since my love left me. When does the pain end?”
I lower my head to my arms. A tickle of a wind moves over the back of my exposed neck. I raise my sight to the night sky. A swan, long and sleek and white as the moon circles overhead. It lands on the water gracefully. My brow drops back to my arms then a pair of hands dives into my hair. I jerk my head up instantly.
“I have always loved your hair, Apollo,” Aphrodite whispers. I would know her voice anywhere. It is a meadowlark on the wing, a comet streaking across the sky, a lover`s whisper on a sultry night.
I relax when she begins to draw her fingers through my hair. “Why are you here?” I ask. “Father shall be upset if he discovers you have visited me. I am exiled until I become who he wants me to be.”
She leans onto my back. Her breasts are heavy, the nipples erect. I turn my head to look into the aquamarine eyes of the goddess of love. She is so beautiful even I cannot describe her well enough. She places her lips to mine softly. Her silver-blonde hair glides over her shoulder. Her lips taste of ambrosia. She sighs then leans back on her legs to continue playing with my hair.
“Pity you are inclined as you are,” she strokes the long golden strands with a flat palm. “You are so beautiful.”
“You have Ares,” I say. She makes a sound like a disgruntled kitten. “Can you answer my question?” She pauses momentarily then resumes, her fingernails gliding over my scalp. Her touch soothes me. Perhaps it does all males. Or mayhap her touch befuddles. Is that not what love does, befuddle and confuse?
“I can, but I choose not to,” the goddess of sea foam purrs. I cast a glance at the heavens. “Do not sigh so dramatically,” she scolds, gathering my hair into a tail then letting it flutter back down to my neck and shoulders. “Love is not simple, even for gods, my passionate poet.”
I turn to look at her. Her chiton glows pearly white like the stars, hugging her voluptuous form with diaphanous clarity. I find myself compelled to stare at her mouth. To envision my cock sliding between her ripe lips as she fondles my—
“You are in a rare state, Phoebus Apollo,” Aphrodite laughs. I bristle at her amusement on my behalf, shooting to my feet. She kneels in front of me, her eyes wide and innocent.
“I can see why the war god acts such a buffoon,” I state factually. She eyes my erection yet her hands stay folded in her lap. “Why are you here if you do not seek to help me understand what has taken over my soul?”
“It is something you must discover for yourself.” She smiles up at me. I drop down and slide from the rock I had been seated on. I face the river, not her. Her powers are pushing me deeper into the bog of frustration. I scrub at my chin.
“Apollo,” she calls. I rub the back of my neck yet do not gaze upon her. “Very well, if you are afraid to look at me, so be it. I came here because I love you, as I love all who I call family.”
I raise a shoulder. Family is what we are but not by blood, not really. Aphrodite was created when my father, Zeus, threw the genitals of my grandfather Kronos into the sea after he castrated the Titan. So in reality the love goddess is blood kin to no one upon Olympus, but father is fond of her and calls her daughter, so I am expected to call her sister.
“You cannot love a memory forever, my fair one,” she says, stepping up beside me. I move away from her, fearful of falling under her powerful wiles yet again. Her hand is soft and warm upon my cheek. I fight the urge to turn my face into that palm. “Love is not meant to be hoarded or stored away, Apollo. He would not wish you to do so, nor would I. Look at what The Fates have brought you. If love blossoms then let it grow. Do not snip the tender bud before it has a chance to open.”
I give into the temptation. I place a kiss to her palm. She pats my cheek then dissipates. Her divine form turns into a whirlwind of white feathers that blow skyward then drift down to tease a hungry trout.
Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Thanks for stopping in to visit! For more free reads by great authors follow the link back to the Tuesday Tales main blog.
Tuesday Tales
See you next week!
August 23, 2013
Dear Jon - Chapter # 4
The next chapter in my M/M historical romance Dear Jon is up over at Storytime Trysts.
I hope you enjoy this romantic trip back in time.
Storytime Trysts
August 22, 2013
Back to School Blog Hop!
Before I start chatting about one of my favorite teachers, I`d like to say how excited I am to be a part of this wonderful blog hop Allison Cassatta is hosting. So many great M/M authors are participating with book giveaways all over the place, as well as a $100 Amazon Gift Card to one lucky winner! What a super way to begin this back to school time of year. Speaking of giveaways, I too will be giving away a free copy of Two Guys Walk into an Apocalypse 2: It Came from Birmingham to one lucky commenter. Who doesn`t love a good zom-rom-com with a handsome teacher as one of the leading man?!
Now we can chat about Paul Cooke, and why he is a teacher. When I first began sketching out the characters for my Two Guys series of zombie romantic-comedies, I was presented with what to make my leading men do for a living. I mulled over a ton of possibilities from police officers to doctors to cowboys, but in the end, I chose for Paul to be an elementary school teacher while his partner, Gordon, was a high school counselor. So, both men are in the education field . . . or were. The zombie apocalypse kind of threw my lovers life plans into the hopper unfortunately.
So, why did I make Paul a first grade teacher in a series that deals with so much death, darkness, and the fear of humanity fizzling out? Because a teacher symbolizes hope for the future. They are the ones that mold and shape the children, and if we are to survive an apocalypse of such horrid proportions, the next generation must be tough as hell and smart as whips. That is where the teachers become so damned important. And that is why Paul Cooke was/ is a teacher. He knows the role of education and how imperative it will be for the young ones who will follow him.
In the next novel - TwoGuys Walk Into an Apocalypse 3: He`s a Lumberjack and He`s Undead - we will get to see how Paul manages to gather up the few children he runs into, and begins laying down the pattern of normalcy that he and the kids so desperately need. There may be zombies lurking about in the woods, but Paul and his charges - as well as the other adults - are damned if they will allow society to fall apart. Paul and Gordon plan to face a grim future with love, laughter, and the three R`s.
Here`s an excerpt from Two Guys Walk Into An Apocalypse 2: It Came From Birmingham that will hopefully bring you a smile.
*~*~*
“No matter how much camouflage paint you put on my face I will never be able to pull off John J.,” I commented, drawing back from yet another finger loaded with green glop. The lights of the used car lot flickered overhead.
“I wasn`t going for Rambo,” Gordon said, smearing the oily goo on his shorts. Another pair of pants ruined I sighed. “I was hoping for maybe Dolph Lundgren but you don`t have his abs, pecs, or ass.”
“Thank you,” I sniffed haughtily.
“You`re welcome,” the man winked leaning in for a kiss before thinking better of it. “Okay, this is really important, Paul. If you see something that looks like danger you do what?”
“Run around in fairy circles and weep?”
The colonel passed by with his corn stalk saber on his shoulder. He was on guard duty, bless his heart. Gordon stood in front of me hard-faced and grim. I tugged the black knit balaclava hat down to my eyebrows.
“I use the walkie-talkie to relay my position then shoot people in the face with this,” I hefted the Remington auto-loading 12-guage shotgun up to my chest. “Then I run around in fairy circles and weep.”
“Paul, this really isn`t the time for being an asshole,” Gordon spun from me with a cloud of grim over his head. I chanced a glance down at myself. Dressed all in black, my pants pockets overflowing with shotgun shells, and a walkie-talkie attached to my ebony turtleneck, I honestly couldn`t think of a better time to be an asshole. I wasn`t sure who we thought we were fooling putting me in this get-up. The red ‘Hello Dolly’ dress would have been less idiotic.
“I was just kidding,” I apologized despite the absurdity of my apparel. It was obvious Gordon was quite distressed. The colonel made another pass, stopped to look me over then snapped a salute before returning to his rounds. “I think I just passed muster,” I smiled at my lover`s back.
“Wonderful,” Gordon rumbled staring at the road leading into town. “That will mean a lot if you run into scarecrows.”
I padded over to the man and slid an arm around him. He leaned back into me. “I`ll be fine. In and out, quick as a bunny, right?” I whispered beside his left ear.
“Just like you make love,” he remarked, a bit of his usual sauce returning.
“A-ha, wit and looks, no wonder I grabbed you.” I placed a goopy kiss to his neck then stepped away. “Okay, I`m going in before my make-up runs.”
“Check in every two minutes. Next time we buy a car, we are paying extra for GPS,” he informed me. “If you run into anything . . .”
“Yes, Gordon, we`ve been over this. I`ll be back before you even miss me.”
“Not possible,” he answered then shoved his hands into his pockets.
*~*~*
You can grab a copy of Two Guys Walk into an Apocalypse 2: It Came from Birmingham from Torquere Press:
http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=96&products_id=3887
I love to meet new friends! You can find me online at:
Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/pages/VL-Locey/124405447678452
Twitter- https://twitter.com/vllocey
My Blog- http://thoughtsfromayodelinggoatherder.blogspot.com/
Amazon- http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00DUINCM2
Don`t forget to leave a comment with your contact information to be entered to win a free digital copy of Two Guys Walk into an Apocalypse 2: It Came from Birmingham! I`ll enter all the names of those who leave their email into that most wonderful invention – The Random Thing Picker - for the winner at the end of the hop, which will be August 30th. Remember, if you want a chance to win, you must leave your contact information in this post, or I can`t let you know if you win.
Good luck and thanks so very much for stopping in. Please take a moment to visit all the other wonderful authors participating in this hop.
Yours in love and laughter,
V.L. Locey
August 19, 2013
Tuesday Tales - Rough
Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales again. This week I`ll be sharing an excerpt from my new adult WIP (Work In Progress) Love of the Hunter, an M/M mythological romance.
In today`s excerpt we see what happens after Helios refuses to help another child of a god as Apollo attempts to heal Orion`s wounds.
This week our word prompt is ‘Rough’. Since this is a rough draft there may be some mistakes. I do apologize for any boo-boo you may find.
Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!
“So the king of Chios took his wrath out upon you for soiling his daughter when it was not you?” I ask, rubbing my fingertips over the clotted blood to loosen the strands one by one.
“He did, Apollo. He had his men hold me and he blinded me with his eating dagger. I was cast from the keep into the night. I stumbled to the shore. There I rinsed my face and tore strips from my chiton for bandages. I then left the isle of Chios and walked to Lemnos.”
“Where you encountered Hephaestus.” I roll his head, placing his nose into my neck. His shuddering breaths are moist and hot on my jugular. Orion nods. I draw a few strands of dried material from a thick mass of gelatinous yellow. My nose wrinkles as the final strip lifts upward. I inhale at the sight of his eyes. A blade had been plunged into each eye: vile gore and pus leaks from beneath the swollen lids. Dread and sympathy for what this handsome young male had suffered overtakes me.
“Is it bad, Apollo?” Orion inquires. I shake my head and throw a glower at Kedalion. The servant nods in understanding and begins dribbling water once again.
“It is not the worst wound I have seen,” I lie, nudging his dark curls with my chin. He moves his head back. I do not know what to do for him. I hold him for a few moments, using my own chiton to gently wash his eyes clean. When that is done I call the servant closer. “Go fetch me more water. Make sure it is clean and that the bucket does not scrape the walls of the well,” I warn. He bows out silently, the weathered bucket under his arm. “I shall wash it more since it brings you comfort. Then I shall lay my hands on your eyes. I am skilled at healing minor wounds and so with my touch and a cleansing agent, perhaps we can bring your vision back to you.”
His chapped lips break into a brief smile that makes me long to see him smile again. The shock of that sensation in my chest is startling. It causes my breathing to hitch roughly in my chest. We do not speak. I hold him and he allows me to cradle him. The servant returns too quickly. I push the son of Poseidon into a sitting position. Moving around Orion to face him, I then kneel before him in the hay as I instruct Kedalion to hand me rags torn from his clothing. He eyes me with unease but does as bid. Dipping the tatters into the cold water I then bathe the hot, puffy sockets as gently as I can. Orion winces and bites down upon his bottom lip until red blood dribbles down his chin, but he does not cry out, not once.
“I vow this part shall be much easier,” I coo, tossing the wet rags back into the bucket. I shift my sight from Orion to Kedalion. “I will need more swaddling. In the tack room you will find my belongings. Rip a chiton into strips. Keep them clean! Wash your hands before you touch my robe. Do not allow them to drop into the dung. If I smell shit upon them or your hands you shall find yourself cursed to a thousand eternities of shoveling dung from Hades` stables.”
“Yes, yes, I will be clean, mighty Apollo!” the servant cries, tripping over his large bare feet to escape.
“You are a fearsome young god, Apollo,” Orion chuckles, his lips quivering a small bit as he works to keep the pain contained. “Kedalion is a good slave. He has been pleasant company for me.”
“And so he shall continue to prove himself if he does as I tell him to do.” I reach out to grasp his chin in my fingers. I lift his head, turn it right and left, my face furrowed in worry and distaste. What a vile man Oenopion was to mar such a beautiful face. I look over my shoulder when Kedalion runs back to us, a ball of shredded linen tightly held to his lean chest.
“It is as clean as it was when I removed it from your bag, Phoebus Apollo.” Kedalion bows numerous times. When the servant is seated beside me my hands come up to rest lightly on Orion`s cheeks.
“Breathe when I do, Orion,” I tell him. He licks his lips then bobs his head. My eyelids drift shut. I imagine a ball of sunlight appearing in my palms. I hear Kedalion gasp. The heat in my palms spreads out into my fingers. It climbs up my arms. Orion twitches violently when I slide my hands from his cheeks and place them flatly over the mangled remains of his eyes. Imagining the tissues of his eyes healing, I will the light to cure him. The warmth is now running down my thighs and streaming up my neck. I push more of the sun`s glory into his wounds. Kedalion shouts.
I do not hear what he says; I am too absorbed in the creation of healing light. It thrums through my body. From my hairline to my bare toes, my powers throb intensely. A burst of light appears behind my closed eyelids. It expands out from my core, engulfing the barn. Orion screams. Kedalion shrieks. I convulse as if bound in the most intense pleasure a man can feel, then I fall back into the hay, tremors rumbling though my body. I open my eyes and the barn is brilliantly illuminated. I feel proud. I have called forth a bit of the sun and made it do my bidding. My head rolls to the left. I view Orion laying at my side, unconscious, his dark curls falling over his brow and his body glowing from within. I then slip into the darkness of dreamless sleep.
Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Thanks for stopping in to visit! For more free reads by great authors follow the link back to the Tuesday Tales main blog.
Tuesday Tales
See you next week!
In today`s excerpt we see what happens after Helios refuses to help another child of a god as Apollo attempts to heal Orion`s wounds.
This week our word prompt is ‘Rough’. Since this is a rough draft there may be some mistakes. I do apologize for any boo-boo you may find.
Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!
“So the king of Chios took his wrath out upon you for soiling his daughter when it was not you?” I ask, rubbing my fingertips over the clotted blood to loosen the strands one by one.
“He did, Apollo. He had his men hold me and he blinded me with his eating dagger. I was cast from the keep into the night. I stumbled to the shore. There I rinsed my face and tore strips from my chiton for bandages. I then left the isle of Chios and walked to Lemnos.”
“Where you encountered Hephaestus.” I roll his head, placing his nose into my neck. His shuddering breaths are moist and hot on my jugular. Orion nods. I draw a few strands of dried material from a thick mass of gelatinous yellow. My nose wrinkles as the final strip lifts upward. I inhale at the sight of his eyes. A blade had been plunged into each eye: vile gore and pus leaks from beneath the swollen lids. Dread and sympathy for what this handsome young male had suffered overtakes me.
“Is it bad, Apollo?” Orion inquires. I shake my head and throw a glower at Kedalion. The servant nods in understanding and begins dribbling water once again.
“It is not the worst wound I have seen,” I lie, nudging his dark curls with my chin. He moves his head back. I do not know what to do for him. I hold him for a few moments, using my own chiton to gently wash his eyes clean. When that is done I call the servant closer. “Go fetch me more water. Make sure it is clean and that the bucket does not scrape the walls of the well,” I warn. He bows out silently, the weathered bucket under his arm. “I shall wash it more since it brings you comfort. Then I shall lay my hands on your eyes. I am skilled at healing minor wounds and so with my touch and a cleansing agent, perhaps we can bring your vision back to you.”
His chapped lips break into a brief smile that makes me long to see him smile again. The shock of that sensation in my chest is startling. It causes my breathing to hitch roughly in my chest. We do not speak. I hold him and he allows me to cradle him. The servant returns too quickly. I push the son of Poseidon into a sitting position. Moving around Orion to face him, I then kneel before him in the hay as I instruct Kedalion to hand me rags torn from his clothing. He eyes me with unease but does as bid. Dipping the tatters into the cold water I then bathe the hot, puffy sockets as gently as I can. Orion winces and bites down upon his bottom lip until red blood dribbles down his chin, but he does not cry out, not once.
“I vow this part shall be much easier,” I coo, tossing the wet rags back into the bucket. I shift my sight from Orion to Kedalion. “I will need more swaddling. In the tack room you will find my belongings. Rip a chiton into strips. Keep them clean! Wash your hands before you touch my robe. Do not allow them to drop into the dung. If I smell shit upon them or your hands you shall find yourself cursed to a thousand eternities of shoveling dung from Hades` stables.”
“Yes, yes, I will be clean, mighty Apollo!” the servant cries, tripping over his large bare feet to escape.
“You are a fearsome young god, Apollo,” Orion chuckles, his lips quivering a small bit as he works to keep the pain contained. “Kedalion is a good slave. He has been pleasant company for me.”
“And so he shall continue to prove himself if he does as I tell him to do.” I reach out to grasp his chin in my fingers. I lift his head, turn it right and left, my face furrowed in worry and distaste. What a vile man Oenopion was to mar such a beautiful face. I look over my shoulder when Kedalion runs back to us, a ball of shredded linen tightly held to his lean chest.
“It is as clean as it was when I removed it from your bag, Phoebus Apollo.” Kedalion bows numerous times. When the servant is seated beside me my hands come up to rest lightly on Orion`s cheeks.
“Breathe when I do, Orion,” I tell him. He licks his lips then bobs his head. My eyelids drift shut. I imagine a ball of sunlight appearing in my palms. I hear Kedalion gasp. The heat in my palms spreads out into my fingers. It climbs up my arms. Orion twitches violently when I slide my hands from his cheeks and place them flatly over the mangled remains of his eyes. Imagining the tissues of his eyes healing, I will the light to cure him. The warmth is now running down my thighs and streaming up my neck. I push more of the sun`s glory into his wounds. Kedalion shouts.
I do not hear what he says; I am too absorbed in the creation of healing light. It thrums through my body. From my hairline to my bare toes, my powers throb intensely. A burst of light appears behind my closed eyelids. It expands out from my core, engulfing the barn. Orion screams. Kedalion shrieks. I convulse as if bound in the most intense pleasure a man can feel, then I fall back into the hay, tremors rumbling though my body. I open my eyes and the barn is brilliantly illuminated. I feel proud. I have called forth a bit of the sun and made it do my bidding. My head rolls to the left. I view Orion laying at my side, unconscious, his dark curls falling over his brow and his body glowing from within. I then slip into the darkness of dreamless sleep.
Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Thanks for stopping in to visit! For more free reads by great authors follow the link back to the Tuesday Tales main blog.
Tuesday Tales
See you next week!
