Tuesday Tales: Writing Laughter

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors posting excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. I’m pleased you stopped by today. This week’s word prompt is laughter. My snippet is from Silver Angel, a Wytchfae prequel to Lord of Fire. Enjoy the other authors of Tuesday Tales.

Darkness wrapped around them like a blanket. She was soft in his arms now, but moments ago he had held a tigress. He kept her close, still wanting as much skin to skin as possible.

When she pressed her lips to the vulnerable hollow beneath his throat, his heart lurched at the memory of thinking she hadn’t shown up.

She touched his chin where it was starting to scruff. “What is it, baby?”

He swallowed, not wanting to say it.

“Hmm?”

His eyes squeezed shut. “I didn’t see you at first. Backstage I mean.”

Her breath was ragged. “It was—hard to get away.”

Say it. Get it out. “I was scared shitless.”

She kissed his scruff, her hand going up toward his hair. A thin streak of moonlight glinted off the jeweled cuff bound to her wrist. He gripped around it. “Why is this not gold or silver? What the hell is it? Brass?”

She jerked her hand away. “Don’t. You know I hate it. Hate him.”

Bitter laughter escaped the tremble in his lips, though he had tightened them to prevent it.

She climbed on top of him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her hair smelled like honeydew melon. He caressed and kneaded her skin. “Angel, don’t go back. Stay with me.”

A shudder ravaged her. “C-can’t. He’ll kill me. Us.”

He shifted to his side, taking her with him, keeping her close. “Not if we plan it out. Get help maybe.”

She was a dim shroud in the darkness, and he imagined rather than saw her eyes widen. “Who would help us? Just telling someone else would make them a mark.”

He clasped her shoulders. “He’s hurt you so bad, you think he’s untouchable. He’s not. He’s not, Angel. A bastard like that has enemies and lots of them.”

Her voice was small. “Mostly dead ones.”

“Not all. We can use that information. And Duff has connections.”

“You told Duff?”

“I told him nothing. But he’s not blind about you and me, and he knows people, otherworld types.” He wanted her to hear him. “We can free you, free your magic.”

The moon had risen enough so that he could see her face. She was looking at him in disbelief. But not total. Not quite. He could see a tiny flicker of hope.

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt laughter. Thanks for stopping by. Read the other winning excerpts at Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

All rights reserved, copyright @ 2019 Flossie Benton Rogers