It’s Excerpt Monday again! Once a month, a bunch of authors get together and post excerpts from published books, contracted work or works in progress, and link to each other. You don’t have to be published to participate–just a writer with an excerpt you’d like to share. For more info on how to participate, head over to the Excerpt Monday site! or click on the banner above.
Today we have an excerpt from my work in progress Rule of Magic.
“Marcán?”
“You shouldn’t be here, Luisea.”
Luisea flinched from him. “I’m sorry for this. My father, he’s not like this. He’s not himself. He’s a gentle, kind man–”
“I’d hate to see how I’d fare if he really hated me then,” he said dryly. He bent down and plucked up two more stones, tossed them with the others, the chains at his wrists rattling.
“Marcán, please-–”
“Go away. I have work to do.” He picked up the mattock, and, turning his back on her, gave a swing and bit the pick point hard into the chalky stony excuse for soil. Until Ailill was willing to listen to common sense he was shit out of luck. He swung the mattock again with extra anger. He was trapped here, at the mercy of that mad healer father of hers, while heaven only knew what was happening at home. He had to get home. He swung again. The blade struck sparks against a rock, and jarred through his bones to his teeth.
“Marcán.”
“What!” he shouted and rounded on her. He threw the mattock aside. It clanged against the stony ground.
“Would you just stop and listen to me! I’m trying to help you.”
He caught her wrist and yanked her against him. With a quick twist her wrists were caught up in his chains and right hand and his left hand laced into her hair, gripping the back of her head. “Then get these chains off me and get me off this island,” he said, low and deadly.
“I want to. I can’t.” She struggled in his grip and he tightened it on her, drawing her hard against him.
“Won’t” He spoke inches from her face.
“Can’t! He’s my father.” Her wide blue eyes fixed on his. Fear in them. Damn it. Now she was afraid.
“And I’m not Berach. Damn it. I have a job to do and I can’t do it chained up here because your cracked father has some ancient grievance against my great great great grandfather!” He ached to shake her for blindly, stupidly obeying her crazy father. “I am not Berach!”
“I know you’re not.” Luisea whispered. Her eyes glistened with angry tears. “I know who you are. I know what you are.” Her hurt voice softened. “I know.”
Marcán was suddenly acutely aware of her curves pressed against him, her mouth a hand’s-breadth away from his, her breath soft against him. His left hand now stroked in her hair. Still furious with her and her father, unreasonably with her, he acknowledged. Frustrated with everything. Her father. The blistering heat. The sunlight on her hair. The smell of the herbs around her. His sweat and aching muscles. He breathed an vehement oath and took her mouth with his, his kiss punishing and demanding.
He backed her against the warm rock wall, into the shade of the scrawny olive tree.
Freeing her hands, ignoring the rap of her small fists, he held her against the wall with his weight, his hands cupping her face, her body cradled between his legs, her softness molding against him, he took and plundered. Angry with himself that he was taking his anger out on her. Her struggle against him only made him angrier.
And then, somehow, the kiss changed, the anger drained away. Her hands grabbed onto his shoulders instead of pummeling him. His left hand still laced into her hair and his right cupping her cheek. His anger gentled into hunger and his rough taking of her mouth warming into urgent persuading. Savoring the soft warmth of her mouth and the play of her fingers over the bare skin and muscles of his back. Her hands came to rest on his hips holding him close. Her soft shivers and generous, innocent intensity pushed his mood into tenderness, and into shame, and he pulled away from her mouth.
Her soft protest at the ending of the kiss only worsened his guilt at his unforgivable abuse of her.
He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head, resting there, and let out a deep sigh. His fingers curling in her disarrayed hair, stroking. “Forgive me.”
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Bria Quinlan, Rom Com (PG) Cynthia Justlin, Contemp. Rom. (PG 13) Kaige, Historical Romance (PG13) Julia Knight, Fantasy Romance (PG13) Jeannie Lin, Historical Para Rom (PG 13) RF Long, Fantasy (PG13) Shawntelle Madison, Para. Rom. (PG13) Debbie Mumford, Fantasy (PG13) Megan S., Paranormal (PG13) |
Alexia Reed, Urban Fantasy (R) Kendal Ashby, YA (R) Jax Cassidy, Contemporary (R) Cate Hart, YA Paranormal(R) Inez Kelley, Romantic Comedy (R) Christa Paige, Paranormal (R) Mary Quast, Contemporary Romance (R) Annie Nicholas, Paranormal Rom (NC 17) Kim Knox, Erotic SF Romance (NC17) |
Photo: pit klad
babettejames.com 
Beautiful writing! You’ve brought such texture to this scene. I want to know more of Luisea and Marcan.
I love the kiss, punishing then surrendering. Very nice.
Great excerpt, Babette. I really enjoyed it.
I’m with Cate. Great kiss there.