Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their WIPs based on word and picture prompts. I am honored to be in the group. Today’s word prompt is pretty. The snippet is from a new novella based on supporting characters from the 5th Wytchfae book. Although I haven’t named it yet, the story is a prequel to the appearance of these characters in Lord of Fire. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.
Lucien grunted. “You smell pretty for a cat. Your owner must have splashed you with her perfume.” He lifted the feline for inspection and raised a brow of wry satisfaction. “Exactly as I thought. Female through and through.”
A puff of hair took flight as he patted the snowy thicket of her neck. Its fragility surprised him. “No collar.” He had expected a diamond circlet, or at least rhinestone, emblazoning something like Precious.
Meowrrr. With a testy thump the cat regained her prime position on Lucien’s chest and resumed her love fest with his Adam’s apple. Leave it to a cat to have its priorities straight.
He grinned. “Damn it, that tickles.” He shook his head at the inanity of the situation. He’d better unload her and slink back to the podunk hotel before Bradford called out a posse.
Stepping away from the building, he gazed up and down the lake shore. No houses were visible. “Where’d you come from, cat?” Gemstone eyes blinked at him. With determination, he unglued the cat’s paws from his body, wincing at the resulting needle pricks. Setting her down on a clump of grass, he flicked his hand in the general direction of anywhere but here. “Shoo. Run along home now.”
Squinting at the midafternoon glare, he thrust his hands into his jean pockets and headed toward the far speck of the hotel. A bass drum pounded his temple. What had possessed him last night? Jack never solves jack. How many times had he heard his father say that? A patch of sandspurs caught him, and he yanked his leg to escape their insidious trap. He hadn’t noticed those on his wayward trek. What a crazy place to plunk down a hotel, right in the middle of a sandspur palmetto swamp. Christ, could he get any farther from a top venue?
At long last he neared the hotel. All he wanted was a shower and a week’s sleep.
“Mister Silver.” It was the weasly doorman from the previous night.
Lucien scanned the name tag. “Afternoon, Ted. How goes it?”
The man eyed him like he had sprouted a second head. “Mister Jenkins has been looking all over for you.”
“Right.” As Lucien made to pass, Ted raised his arm and a flying umbrella came straight toward Lucien. He ducked. The missile zoomed on by. “What the hell, man?”
“That good for nothing stray is back again.” Ted waved his arms around like a demented windmill and rushed toward the white Persian.
The world was full of hissing cat. With her white hair stretched out straight from her body and her eyes shooting blue sparks, she looked like a miniature mad snow demon.
Lucien grabbed Ted’s jacket sleeve, jerking him up short. “Hold it, bub. What the hell do you think you’re doing to my cat?”
Thanks so much for stopping by. Please visit the fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.
Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Paranormal Fantasy Romance