Good morning and happy Hump Day!! It's time for your weekly tease, the brain child of Angelica Dawson. This week's tease comes from a wip I gave you a snippet from on Sunday's #SexySnippets and picks up where I'd left off Sunday. My exiled Navy Captain has just encountered a supernatural being, my version of a supernatural CIA agent in the isolated snowy mountains of the Sierra Nevada and he's trying to figure out what he's dealing with and why she's come to see him. I love this story. I hope to get it finished by the middle of next summer. Enjoy!
“Relax, Rockstar. I’m not going to eat you,” she said in a husky tone, enjoying the feel and scent of the human male against her. “And, for your information, I’m not a vampire. If I were, you’d be drained already,” she said, voice filled with unspoken promise. “They have the self control of a mosquito. Why don’t we go inside your cozy little cabin, sit by the fire, and… talk.” With reluctance, she released him and headed toward the porch, hips sashaying with anticipation. Her body hummed with renewed vigor for the sex to come.
The weight of his angry stare bore into her backside as she walked up the steps to the front door. Anticipation and impatience rumbled through her system. With a flick of a wrist, she grasped the axe handle and dislodged the blade from the door. “Come along, Sam. I’m hot, needy, and want your stiff cock inside me. How about we get to the good stuff first, explanations later? Whaddya say?”
“Must be a bloody Succubus,” he grumbled following her inside. He closed the door against the blackened frosty night.
“Wrong again,” Tatum declared, surveying the neat, but sparsely furnished room. “For a human, you certainly seem to know a lot about supernatural beings, except the one you’re dealing with at the moment. But then again, we’ve managed to keep our lore mostly to ourselves. Better that way. Besides, humans are obsessed with vampires and werewolves,” she said with disdain. “They’re so five minutes ago.”
The embers of a fire still burned within an ancient large cobblestoned fireplace that encompassed one wall of the sparse living quarters. A beaten up leather couch sat in the middle of the room facing the hearth. There was another door that led to what she guessed was the kitchen and a spiral staircase heading to the second floor in the opposite corner of the room. Other than a scarred up coffee table and a matching end table with another lantern lit upon the scratched surface, the room was void of any real personality. No photos. No personal mementos. Reminded her of a monk’s cell of old. It was as if the good Captain was still punishing himself. Humans… always glorifying in self-misery.
Like you once had? She shook her head to clear it of senseless thoughts almost forgotten. Hell, she hadn’t had those kinds of memories in over a millennia.
“Then what the fuck are you?” Sam said hands fisted on his hips. “More importantly, what the fuck do you want?”
The anger and distrust in his voice brought Tatum back to the present. Edgy and full of a need she hadn’t experienced in probably eight centuries, she amped up the flow of power that hummed just beneath the surface of her skin. She didn’t have time for this shit. Time to get the show on the road as humans of old used to say.
“I told you who I was,” she said, voice saturated with a femme fatale’s special brand of honey-dipped persuasion. “I’m Agent Tatum Wilder.” Power surged, her heart raced, her core body temperature rose involuntarily as she struggled to maintain breaths controlled and even. Attempting a seduction so near her impending Akthuá was a tricky thing. A younger, less experienced Phoenix couldn’t maintain the control needed, but not Tatum. “I’m here for you, Sam. The Sun Counsel needs your help and in return, you will have your reputation restored and be able to come out of exile.”
As she spoke, she closed the distance between them. One by one, she unbuttoned his flannel shirt, her tawny, golden gaze fixated on his hazel eyes. The intensity of her persuasion rose with each word she spoke. Flannel parted, she slid the damp fabric from his broad shoulders. His biceps flexed as her fingertips lightly grazed the smooth, muscled flesh. Her tongue moistened her lips. He was fucking perfection…for a mortal, she amended.
“I’m not here to hurt you, Sam,” she breathed, thick, honeyed voice a persuasive whisper.
How many times had she uttered those same words? Words that over two millennia had lost their meaning? She actually meant them this time. Surprise fluttered in the pit of her stomach. Ordinarily, the existence of another being was of no consequence to her. Tatum had a mission to complete. That was all Sam Murphy was to her—a mission. She needed to maintain her objective. Complete the aim, get in, get out. Words she’d lived and survived by for centuries. “But there was no mistaking the fact you’ve been accused of mass murder,” she said.
Rage filled his hazel eyes, darkening them. He stiffened and grabbed her wrists in a forceful grip. Hauling her against him, her arms were trapped between her body and his chest. “Lies,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “All of it, lies!”
Inner strength, honor, vengeance, along with an outpouring of human lust rose and swelled deep within his chest. Every emotion crashed through him and cascaded into her. Sam Murphy spoke the truth. He was an innocent man charged with unspeakable horrors. She kind of felt sorry for him. Kind of. Innocent or damned made no difference to her and what the Sun Council deemed. In the end, Captain Murphy would comply. No one refused the Council’s demands.
That's all I have for now. Comments are encouraged. I'd love to know what you think. Please feel free to see what the other participants are teasing you with this week! The names are posted below.
See Ya all tomorrow!