Tuesday Tales 2022-11-29 Stingy

December is around the corner! This is a wonderful time of year. Welcome to Tuesday Tales, where authors write weekly excerpts incorporating word and picture prompts.  This scene is from Silver’s Angel, part of the Wytchfae paranormal fantasy series. The word prompt is stingy. When you finish reading my snippet, make sure to visit all the talented authors of Tuesday Tales.

Angel pressed a shaking finger to summon the elevator.

Someone hurried in her direction. “Are you all right, Miss?”

Turning her head to see who addressed her, she blinked and squinted. Her eyes refused to focus. A blob of purple came toward her. When it got close enough, she saw it was one of the hotel attendants, in uniform, and he was peering at her with a concerned expression.

“Do you need a doctor?”

She shook her head vehemently. The motion made her dizzier, and she leaned against the wall. “I’m fine.” Her voice was thready. “A touch of low blood sugar. If you would please…”

The door opened to an empty elevator. She heaved herself in and grabbed onto the safety bar.

The attendant had entered with her. “What floor, Miss?”

“Seventeen. No need to come up. Just push the button. I’ll be fine.”

“No problem at all. I’ll see you to your room.”

The door swished closed, and the lifting motion sent her stomach to her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the threatening shift.

When the floor jolted and the door opened, she wobbled out, heading to 1703.

The attendant steadied her elbow. At the door he extended a palm. “Key card?”

She patted her shoulder and hip, becoming frantic. “I—I must have dropped my purse.” Oh, God, what now? “A friend is one room over.” She fluttered a hand. “1705.”

The attendant knocked on that door, getting no answer.

The shift pulsed up within her. She pushed it down. She couldn’t do so for long. She had to be alone. An exit door loomed at the end of the hall. Could she make it that far? Get away from the man who was trying to help her?

A familiar voice called out, “Hello, Bob.” The voice took on urgency. “Angel!” It was Lucien rushing toward her, grasping her shoulders. “You look sick as a dog.”

Or a cat. “Low blood sugar,” she bit out. “Lost my key. Need to sit down.”

Lucien propelled her toward his room.

Bob was behind them. “My daughter is a runner. Looks like heat stroke to me. Give her water, not too fast, but don’t let her be stingy with it.”

“Thanks, Bob,” Lucien replied over his shoulder.” I’ll see that she hydrates. Would you bring juice and a candy bar tout suite?”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet incorporating the word stingy. Thanks for stopping by. If you haven’t done so already, check out the other excerpts at Tuesday Tales.