"Nothing this pretty could be real."

VENGEANCE MOON REIEW BY YOLANDA SFETSOS

2011-06-29T21:37:00.003-04:00

Read from June 26 to 29, 2011 — Goodreads review by Yolanda Sfetsos, multipublisher author.

If you're looking for a gritty, violent, and sensual urban fantasy book to sink your teeth into, look no further. This is what you need right here! :)

Sariah's a hybrid werewolf with revenge on her mind. She wants to make the bastard who made her into this monster pay, and decides to do it strategically. But by killing his pack off one by one, she also gets into some pretty violent situations with humans--which she calls Pinks.

When you first meet her, Sariah comes across as a hard-as-nails predator with nothing but vengeance on her mind, but she's so much more. As the story moves along, we actually see how generous she is. She has a big heart, and has opened her house up to women in need.

What she didn't know was that someone was watching her every move from the shadows, but he isn't doing it because he wants to attack her. No, Stephan's drawn to Sariah. In spite of her murderous ways. He can see past all that.

Stephan--The Saint--is a tough MMA fighter. He's awesome in the cage and has big dreams of getting to the top of his sport, but getting involved with Sariah not only occupies his mind, soul, and heart but also awakens the Werecat inside him. Not to mention makes him a target for a backstabbing, scheming werewolf who's got plans of his own.

I had a blast with this book! Seriously. Not only did it appeal to my love for the urban fantasy, shifter, and supernatural genres, but it also thrust me into the middle of the MMA world. With cage fights that are so awesomely written I felt like I was watching an actual UFC fight. I got a kick out of all the references, too. Randy Couture, anyone? ;)

The story is told in the first-person POV of Sariah, so we get deep into her world and realise that although she comes across as a total, hardcore bitch, she really is a whole lot more. She cares for girls who end up in a situation similar to hers, and cares deeply for Stephan. We also get insight into Stephan via his pasionate third-person POV--which was cool--and that of the villain. It makes for a very well-rounded story.

I loved it, and the last bit of the book left me breathless because it was non-stop action until the very end. What a great story!

Check out Yolanda's website HERE

VENGEANCE MOON REVIEW

2011-06-02T14:44:00.002-04:00

WOOT!! 4.5 for Vengeance Moon on Long and Short Reviews!!

"Prepare to go on a wild, lusty, and revenge filled ride from start to finish in Vengeance Moon. Typically love forms out of events or situations; but this is no typical story and the emotions are dealt with after satisfying the more urgent desires. Animal instincts are too difficult to be controlled once the animal is let out of the cage!"

And probably the best line in any of my reviews EVER:

"When you can't stop thinking about a story, it has power."

I could sleep with this review. Stroke it and cuddle and coo to it. Thank you Lilac!!

OFFICIALLY AWESOME!

2010-11-08T08:17:00.003-05:00

TAGLINE:
Revenge is a bitch, and Sariah is her biggest competition.

BLURB:

The name is Sariah DuShayne. I’m a real-life monster hell-bent on revenge. Five years ago, Xander Waithorn had the balls to move to my city and start spreading his werewolf virus. The bastard made me and I plan to use my hybrid DNA to change at will and get my revenge.

I should’ve known better than to hunt him on a full moon, but some days my vendetta gets the best of me. Hormones and Were senses raging, I accidentally ravaged some mouthy humans in a back alley. Werecat and personal stalker Stephan Colinford witnessed the entire fiasco and developed the crazy idea he could derail my path of vengeance. Talk about the cat calling the wolf a canine—Stephan has less control over his powers than I do. Then we met at his cage fight, and I couldn’t help surrender my soft curves to his hard body.

Somehow, Stephan thought love would change everything, but he’s wrong. I’ll do whatever it takes to punish Xander and his pack of lap dogs. After Xander’s hell of a werewolf-a-palooza concert, blood and fire will reign. If Death and Hell won’t have me, my only prayer is Stephan will…

Warning: This title contains a hero who can sweep you off your feet, cage sex hot enough to make you sweat and a heroine tough enough to rip your throat out.

Bigass cheesy grin!! Woot woot

BACK with CONTRACT

2010-08-13T19:22:00.004-04:00

Boo yah! That's right bitches, Savannah Jordan is BACK! Fresh from a "real name" stint in YA dreamland with a fat Samhain contract in my hot little hands. What's it for, you ask? Well, none other than the werebitch that got her start right here years ago.

Sariah is coming! VENGEANCE MOON, a stand alone title will be coming out with Samhain, Dates aren't set yet, but this puppy will go to e-book AND print. *swoon*

Tagline: Revenge is a bitch. Any old SJ blog readers will know just how true that is.

Let the happy dance, booty shake commence!

Holiday freebie available from Samhain Publishing

2008-12-26T14:16:00.003-05:00

Mistletoe and Mocha is a sassy, sweet, romantic, hot-as-hell story. Long time friends let go of their platonic barrier and embrace the passionate love they've hidden for so long.

Here's the link: MISTLETOE AND MOCHA

Go! Get it!

Happy Holidays

Finally back

2008-10-29T18:48:00.006-04:00

Yes, that's right. My plans for total domination are completed!! I've clawed my way past the contemporary romance side and taken control. Mua hahaha!

Not really...but the mini power trip was fun. I'm actually playing nicely with my other half.

So, on to the Savvy Report: There are two current WIPs that I'm very excited about.

See that hot, tattooed guy over there? He's a damn good representation of the hero is my new erotic/fantasy romance titled Nightwind, about a warlock and the woman who's the clone of his deceased wife. There's a bunch of twists: a jealous witch, a unique magick system, replicant fading, and lots of hot sex. Woot!

Then there's this awesome collaboration project I'm working on with Nancy Lindquist. It's a time travel menage with a shape-shifting dragon, a knight who has to live up to his title and a red-headed witch of a damsel. There are more villianous characters than you can shake a blog post at, and I promise you a sex scene with the dragon in full beastie form. (Bethany, my editor, has been begging...so I'm giving her what she wants.)

If I get those both done (and the sequel in my western romance series and the sequel to my fantasy novel), I have a similar themed story to Melting the Ice Queen, titled Quenching the Fire. An Ice God, a sassy red-head and, let me tell you, there's a character in there who even shocked me! Big fun!

Hopefully, Nancy and I will have a chapter spiffed up enough for an excerpt soon. Then, there's sure to be Nightwind excerpts, too. :) Maybe Quenching the Fire will be excerpt ready in a few months.

"Other" news: The other side of me has claimed Sariah. *sigh* Yup, the bitch is gone. But, I'm okay with it. She's one helluva a character to control, and a cage in an imaginary mind isn't very strong. Maybe my other side can keep the bitch in her cage and get the story done without that werewolf running amok.

And, if you know of my other side, you'll know to look on my website for news about my current and upcoming releases... A vampire romance this summer, a little horror story collection, and this December will see the contemporary western's release!

Fading away

2008-04-28T13:16:00.002-04:00

Seek me in the shadows for I shall not be here until I finish the novel I've been working on under my real name. Good writing, and reading to all!

Blessed Be.

WINNERS, NEWS and MORE

2008-04-14T08:39:00.002-04:00

RECENT WINNERS:
Mel Francis of the Melting the Ice Queen basket!! Jambrea Gaff for the dichroic glass pendant that was a Samhain Cafe exclusive contest. CONGRATULATIONS!!

NEWS:
Melting the Ice Queen is doing well at Samhain and I am hap-hap-happy to be there. My editor recently requested a follow-up title (how cool is that?? I LOVE being in demand hehehe). So look for more Savvy naughtiness in the future. The upcoming story's working title is Quenching the Fire and is about a hot to trot redhead and her steamy affair with an ice god. The plot is deep, complicated with loads of paranormal fun and might just make print length to get the entire tale told.

MORE:
If you are aware of my *cough* real name, I have an upcoming release with a new company. Run on over to the other blog for a fresh excerpt!

GIVE AWAY CONTEST!!

2008-02-06T19:05:00.000-05:00

It's time for another give away! This time, I'm giving the lucky winner a Sweet Dreams goody basket full of stuff!

a basket (handwoven by me)
a necklace of moonstone, lapis lazuli and crystal beads (made by me)
a pretty key ring with dangly (made by me, too)
a box of Sweet Dreams tea
a bar of Nautral Lavender soap handmade by Michigan Country Soapworks
a bottle of Magick Moments custom blended perfume oil (with the scents of lavender and ocean rain) also blended by Michgian County Soapwoarks
AND A COPY OF MELTING THE ICE QUEEN !!

Emin and Cassie meet in her dreams, so what better to give away than a goody basket of things to bring you Sweet Dreams?? So, what do you need to do to enter?

RULES:

READ the online excerpt.
ANSWER this question: What does Cassie sacrifice in Emin's bed?
EMAIL your answer to savvy_jordan@yahoo.com in an email titled "MTIQ goody basket"

This contest will run for one month!
Best of luck, and happy readings!

Sweet Dreams!!

P.S. If you read the story and know Emin's first spoken words, add them to the email, and I'll put a sweet little stuffed animal into that basket for you, too!

Pop Evil--Somebody Like You

2008-02-05T16:02:00.000-05:00

Contest for Melting the Ice Queen pendant

2008-01-21T11:05:00.000-05:00

What better way to welcome the upcoming release of Melting the Ice Queen than with a contest to win this lovely, icy blue opal pendant? (necklace NOT included)

Rules:

Contest will be open until FEBRUARY 5th, Melting the Ice Queen's release date

Go to my AUTHOR PAGE .
CLICK ON Melting the Ice Queen' gorgeous piece of Anne Cain brilliance COVER.
CLICK ON THE READ AN EXCERPT ONLINE link.
Read the excerpt.
EMAIL the answer to this question: Which Egyptian god is Emin's father? to savvy_jordan@yahoo.com

HINT: He is a creator god, worshipped in the capitol city of Memphis in the early dynasties.

Good luck everyone!!

GRAND UNVEILING

2008-01-09T13:06:00.000-05:00

Here is my cover for my February 5th release, Melting the Ice Queen!!

Okay, maybe the unveiling is not so grand... This gorgeous piece of Anne Cain brilliance has been up on the Samhain site for a couple weeks now. So, in moves to make recompense for my tardy posting, I am giving you the 'official excerpt, too:

He was Egyptian, in the traditional pose and garb of a pharaoh or god. One hand held a staff, while the other was extended as though beckoning the faithful to his feet.

Who in the gods’ name is this?

My heart, which refused to pick up a steady rhythm since the first contact with the statue, pounded in my chest. My mind whirred.

Egyptology was my favorite subject years ago in school. I had studied the myths and legends, gods and goddesses and I watched television specials, read every magazine article. But I’ve never seen this man. I picked up the ivory statuette, turning it in my hands, stroking the man’s form and looking for a cartouche or indicating mark to tell me whose representation I held.

No name, no dynasty. Not one single indicating mark on the statue.

“Who are you?”

He did not answer, and I didn’t expect him to—mystical happenings were just that, mystical, and the supernatural was something I had yet to experience in this lifetime. I shrugged and then dumped the remaining packaging material into the garbage. I wrapped the idol in my fingers, and the ivory warmed to my touch. Cradling my newly arrived treasure to my chest, I climbed the stairs to my bedroom.

A pile of discarded shoes cluttered the floor beside the door jamb. I skirted it and instead picked up a T-shirt dangling from the lid of my hamper in the bathroom, and stuffed it back in. Shoes were a necessity, crumpled laundry was not.

A breeze billowed my sheer linen curtains. Moonlight lay on the patchwork quilt, and left the rest of the room to shadows. The air was fragrant with lavender and cool as the breeze caressed my skin, just the way I like it. My radio, however, heralded doom. The little Sony sat on the nightstand and blasphemed about a coming heat wave, and the sweltering grip it would take on the city.

I hate hot weather.

I silenced the electronic harbinger, switched the setting to Alarm and shoved the clock radio back to make room for my Egyptian statue.

The statue was a mystery, but he made an excellent addition to my already Egyptianesque décor. His ivory blended well with my eggshell walls, the aged look made him appear all the warmer and more appealing. He stood, plinth slightly at an angle so that he was facing my bed. The staff he held now pointed directly into the moon outside my window, and his hand pointed at the center of my bed. Satisfied with his placement, I stripped off clothes as I walked through the room and into the adjacent bath. Then showered and in my nightgown, I climbed into bed beneath the gaze of the newcomer to my life.

A sigh escaped me and my eyes slipped closed.

“See you in my dreams.”

Somehow, I knew I was dreaming.

My eyes opened, and I was not in my bed, not in my own time.

I sat up, and was immediately in awe of my dreamscape. Golden statues of the creator god Ptah flanked the entrance, and in each corner stood life-sized versions of the statue on my nightstand. Pillars of white limestone stood in a line of silent sentinels along each wall, and draped between them hung translucent sheets of fabric. Incense drifted through the air, seducing me with patchouli, musk and spice. Torches blazed every few feet, and a balefire burned in the center of the westernmost side.

It was a temple dedicated, by looks, to the mystery man standing on my nightstand and the god Ptah, a creator deity from the ancient city of Memphis. But this temple was plusher and more inviting than any secret sanctuary. It was more like a sacred bedchamber.

A sense of wonder pulled at me, and I slipped from the raised bed upon which I sat. I stood in silent awe before the visage of the god Ptah who stepped from Chaos, and by thought and speech created all else according to early Egyptian mythology. His intent held great power.

Then, I drifted the length of one wall, my fingertips trailing across the pillars, the curtains. Every tactile sensation was heightened. The pillars were smooth as glass, the fabric as light as air and the balefire, when I reached it, was intense, its heat pierced me to the core.

The curtains parted in the farthest right corner, and a man stepped through. His presence thrilled every nerve, danced in the blood of every vein. He was devastatingly handsome, with warm olive skin and dark hair dusting his shoulders. Brown eyes smoldered above a prominent nose underpinned by a well-trimmed moustache and beard. His lips were soft and full, and my heart beat with a wicked tattoo.

He was bare-chested, a linen wrap girded his hips, riding low. Armbands of gold cinched his biceps and a wide, beaded collar circled his neck. My soul resonated with his presence, my eyes widened as the heat of desire built within.

Something about him was familiar…

The statue!

The realization was a shock, but I knew without a doubt, coming towards me was the incredibly sexy, human version of my mystery statue. I opened my mouth to speak but shock held those words captive.

Who are you? Why are we in this temple?

He walked to me, placed a hand on my shoulder but did not speak. I pursed my lips around a question burning my tongue, a question he silenced when he wrapped his arms around me and pressed his lips to mine.

Oh my god!

A fleeting thought of pulling away and arguing with him passed through my mind, followed swiftly by the thought that this was just a really hot dream. Besides, he was too damned gorgeous to turn down.

No amount of hesitation or concern could squelch the lust his touch ignited in me. My body betrayed my need to maintain a cool distance. With my resistance sacrificed, everything felt right in his arms—the heat, the passion and the way my heart pounded. I wrapped my arms around him, and his desert heat caressed my skin. Clutched against his chest, and victim to the sacred oils scenting his skin, I swooned. He scooped my knees up with his arm and, with his other arm he supported my back as he lifted me.

2007-12-05T09:27:00.000-05:00

** Isn't she gorgeous? I love the ethereal feeling this picture evokes. I found it on Deviant Art, so if you're looking for some beautiful pictures, I highly recommend checking out the site.**

I'm putting her picture up because she reminds me of a fairy tale ice queen which, in turn, makes me think of my February release with Samhain, Melting the Ice Queen. It isn't a fantastical fantasy, but rather a contemporary romance (Red Hots! too, of course); but this picture epitomizes Cassandra for me, in the beginning of the story. Cassie is frozen in her love life, comfortable in her icy realm of frigid distance. That is, until an Egyptian demigod named Emin warms her dreams and melts her heart.

I cannot wait for this book to be released!! It's such a great story.

*contented sigh*

New toy!

2007-10-27T08:50:00.000-04:00

While wandering Meagan Hatfield's site, I came across this fun little toy. Find your Elvish Name generator. How could I resist?? It's early, I haven't had an caffeine.

I HAD to.

And, wouldn't you know? My Savannah elf name is soooo cool! Alassë of Dorthonion

Go. Try it. Come back and tell me your elf name! :)

We have a WINNER!

2007-10-21T11:08:00.000-04:00

Congratulations, Amelia!

Your ebook and pendant will soon be on its way!

CONTESTCONTESTCONTEST

2007-10-09T10:33:00.000-04:00

With the new contracts coming in, and my story In Reference To... being released this week with The Wild Rose Press, I am in the mood for a contest!

How about a little giveaway? One winner--two prizes; one ebook, one handmade dichroic art glass pendant. Sound good? It better! LOL I've been busy this summer with not a lot of down time to make prizes.

PRIZE #1:

A copy of my erotica colletion Sacrilegious!

Explore the decadent couplings of Egyptian deities and their mortal consorts.
Savor the sensuality of their intense passions.
Sacrifice yourself on the altar of the gods…

Candy Cay of CTR says:

"These three stories by Ms. Jordan are a fantastic tale about love knowing no boundaries."

PRIZE #2:

This dichroic pendant. It's two layers of glass, the bottom is a rainbow dichroic, the top is clear. It's funky. It's fun. And, hey, it's handmade, by ME. :)

RULES:

Email me at savvy_jordan@yahoo.com and put OCTOBER CONTEST in the subject line. All other email will be eaten by the spam monster MUA hahahaha. On October 19th I will draw a winner!

Best of Luck!

NEW CONTRACT!!

2007-10-09T10:24:00.000-04:00

I am just giddy!! My Erotica short story title Melting the Ice Queen has been contracted by Bethany Morgan of Samhain Publishing, Ltd!!!!!!

How cool is that?! More news, snippets, etc to come.

PAIN

2007-10-03T07:58:00.000-04:00

Oh my. I have not posted in a looooong time. Summer is never good for me, blogging wise. With the kids out of school, there is just so much going on. *sigh*

Now, they're back in school, and I have a little breathing space between stories and crafting projects. Last month, I edited In Reference To... (which is available on October 10th from TWRP!!), made Kathryn the Great's Ren Faire dress and hemmed one passed on to me from my friend Lisa. The highlights of last month were finishing edits, and attending the Faire.

This month, I get to make two Halloween costumes; one for MIL and one for my friend Abby.

The draw back to October is the hole in my jaw from getting my wisdom tooth yanked out yesterday. Hence the title of this post--PAIN. The doctor cut my gum and drilled away jaw bone to get to the tooth, and then there was "a lot of pressure" and my head was cranked side to side as he forced the tool beneath my tooth and wrenched it back and forth. Then, he drilled some more. And yanked some more. Finally, with a CRACK and splatter of blood, the tooth came free. Yay, me.

Currently, the sofa beckons. The Vicodin has taken the edge off from the ache and given me a warm fuzzy feeling. I will succumb soon.

Hell, I succumb now...

Forgiving and letting go

2007-08-23T11:35:00.000-04:00

"Forgiveness is giving up the right to retaliate. Forgiveness is the willingness to have something happen the way it happened."

"Forgiveness is giving up the insistence on being understood."

In essence, forgiveness is letting go of your side of the argument, or incident, and your attachment to the feelings associated with it. It is the first step in moving on, in healing a hurt and growing, or the first step on the farewell path.

It is not dragging around a hurt to be brought back up and revisited. It is not harboring resentment to be slung as a barb later. Those are acts of intent and retaliation.

I found, this morning, that I am not as good at forgiving as I thought I was. I wandered around the Internet, and stopped at certain people's pages. I'm not sure what I was looking for, some glimmer of hope, I guess. But, in essence, I revisited old wounds.

According to those quotes, I have some forgiving left to do, and not just of others, but of myself. I have harbored guilt and hurt feelings, and I have to let go. "For those who accept and practice this discipline [of forgiveness], there is a release of energy and a sense of freedom." As one of my friend's songs says, "we can fly high on the wings of forgiveness."

This is me, letting go and trying to fly.

Quotes from For Everything There is a Season.

Medium rare, please.

2007-07-18T10:11:00.000-04:00

An author friend of mine tagged me last month with this grill-an-author "Ask one question" tag. So, as per tag rules, I am hearby opening this blog up to questions about me and my writing. BUT (as addendums to that rule) do not ask anything vulgar, anyting rude, or anything too personal (like my real name, etc.), because those questions will be stricken.

Grill away!

NEWS NEWS NEWS!!!

2007-06-06T12:33:00.000-04:00

Last week, I signed contracts with The Wild Rose Press for my short story In Reference to... to be published in their Scarlet Rosette line. I'm just hap-hap-happy to have one of my stories in such great company!

My new cover:

Here's the blurb:

In Reference To...Scarlet Rosette

College senior, Shawna Morris is about to learn more in the library than you can find in a book, and sexy newcomer Adam Scoffield is going to teach her. After steamy flirtations, they give the Reference Section a lesson in love and lust behind locked doors. But hopes plummet for Shawna when she finds Adam behind the lectern of her next class. The passion they shared seems doomed to be recorded in the index of Epic One Night Stands.

Will the young couple allow their love to fade beneath the classroom lights, or will they act on their desires in the shadows of the library?

And here's a little unedited excerpt...

Outside, the storm raged, rain pelted the windows and then, a slamming door echoed through the library's stone and plaster interior. No one slammed the door to the library--it was an unwritten rule--and that immediately piqued my interest. I stepped to the banister railing of the reference section loft and looked down into the foyer.

A stranger stood on the rubber mat. He was soaked, his jeans clingy and inky blue, his jacket drippy from the downpour. His hood slipped back to reveal the profile of a handsome face, strong jaw line and short, messy spiked blond hair.

Oo! What a cutie! I caught my breath, a mischievous grin on my lips. My night was suddenly looking up.

The newcomer took off his jacket, and turned to hang it on the rack beside the door. He wore a tight white tank, and his wet jeans clung to his rear; a snug fit, but loose in the legs, just like I like them.

Nice ass!

At that, he looked up, caught sight of me and smiled. He was even cuter then, white teeth, dreamy eyes framed by sexy specs. My heart pounded, my body flushed, a blush flared my cheeks; I stepped back from the oak railing.

Did I say that out loud?

For a brief moment, I considered hiding in shame--but where is the fun is that? An image of his face, and his sexy ass, burned in my mind and I knew instantly that I wanted more than to hide, wanted more than to just ogle his hot body--I wanted all of him.

He was gorgeous, the epitome of walking sex. For me, there was no doubt; if I got within flirting distance of him, the hussy within me would flaunt and beg for his carnal affections.
Brazen, I walked to the banister railing, rolling my hips and hoping it would entice him. I locked eyes with him, watched him watching me. I turned from the banister, tossed my hair over my shoulder and pointed to my little study nook before I shook my booty at him, like dangling a carrot before a horse. It was an open invitation to more than just becoming a study buddy. He smiled again, and then moved up the main isle and toward the staircase.

Here he comes, I thought, Here, Boy… come and get it...

Link to my author page: http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/authors/SavannahJordan.htm

OMG looooong time...

2007-05-23T12:17:00.000-04:00

It has been such a LOOOOONG time! If anybody's out there, feel free to smack me for my abscence.

My other' name's novel is out in print. How cool is that?! I've even done a booksigning down in Kentucky for it already, and am doing another here in my hometown this Sunday.

Writing wise... Well, I've gotten serious about the darker side again. Sariah's story is outlined, and has grown into a dark, hard hitting werewolf tale of the extent taken to exact revenge on another. *sigh* I love that bitch of mine!

My 609-page vampire epic is going through a total rewrite, too. I'm rolling the entire tale into 3rd person POV from it's current first person POV. I think it makes from a much fuller story.

I have a new short story that is being edited to fit into the print version of Sacrilegious, when my publisher Aphrodite's Apples Press takes things to print. (I can't wait!!)

Oh, and I've recently submitted a short story to The Wild Rose Press's Scarlet Rosette line. The editor recommended revisions which have been made and the story turned around back to her, so... Cross your fingers for another Savannah Jordan sale!

MEET SARIAH'S NEMESIS

2007-01-29T11:20:00.000-05:00

**I know I don't post as often as I used to. Life got in the way. But, I am writing full-time on Sariah's story now, so I should be able to sneak a few excerpts and occasional pith and blather post up here.**

The moon was headed down. Dawn was hours off, and as far as Xander Waithorn was concerned, there was enough time left for one more roll, enough time to tear through one more of Creston Black’s groupies. He eased back into the corner couch, put his polished alligator hide shoes on the table and then straightened the hem of his silk pants.

A waitress wound her way between henchmen reaching for her rear and whores dancing with, and on each other. Xander took the darkest table in the darkest corner--she had a long way to go to make her way to his table and his tip money. He watched every step she made. She was damned sexy, he had to admit, but she was not to his liking. He preferred his women curvy and blond, not athletic and dark. Marko, however, stopped her, fondling her breasts around the tray of drinks as he took his Seven and Soda.

She laughed at Marko's attempt, but her face was impassive. She sidestepped the goon before he could reach any lower, and made her way to Xander's table.

Charles 'Chip' Johnston, a coiled spring ready to snap, leapt from his seat fast enough to stress test his crisp new camouflage BDU pants. Boots shoulder width apart, he stepped in front of the waitress and grabbed her tray. She glared up at him, her eyes passing over his severely short flat top. "That's close enough," he growled.

"Let her through, Charles," Xander sniffed. "She's hardly a threat. Honestly, you take your bodyguard duties too seriously."

Chip turned, cast Xander a rather scathing glare, before stepping out of the waitress's path. She sashayed past, waggling her ass at the irritated man. He growled, then, low and threatening. All traces of bravado sluiced from her expression. She looked down at her tray, suddenly diminished.

"Never mind him, Dear. Come," invited Xander.

She placed the tray of drinks on the table top, and leaned toward the waiting man. Malice and lust radiated from Xander's dark eyes, yet his manicured hand draped atop hers like a handkerchief. He pulled her closer, her breasts in his face. She trembled in his grasp as he buried his nose in her cleavage, inhaling deeply before running his tongue up her neck and to her ear. He whispered something that only she heard.

She nodded, and left her tray behind.

Jealous of Xander's confidence and power over women, Chip bragged, "I could bite right through that ass."

"As well you could," Xander scoffed, "if I allowed you."

"Allowed me?" Chip turned on Xander, his eyes flaring. "Allow me, like you allow that Werebitch to slaughter members of our Pack?"

"Our pack? Need I remind you that I rule here, Charles?" Xander's face darkened, his fine eyebrows pinched in a scowl. "And, I told you never to mention her."

"Rule? You're nothing more than a suit with sharp teeth; it's pretty obvious that she operates outside of your rule. What's the matter, Xander, don't like your mistakes thrown up in your face? You made her--you need to deal with her!"

"Do not," Xander's voice dripped venom as his hand snaked around Chip's throat and began to squeeze, "make me remind you of your place. I made you, too."

The taller Chip stood bristling, fists balled at his side. Xander rose, his regal arrogance face-to-face with Chip's restrained anger. Xander's claws came out then, cutting into Chip's neck. Xander smiled, and Chip backed down.

"That's right," Xander said, and then sat as if the spat was simply dismissed. Chip dropped into a chair, while Xander reclined against the plush opium room style bench.

Chip jutted his jaw in the direction of the waitress's departure.
"What'd you ask her?"

"To fetch me the busty blond that's on the dance floor in front of Creston's stage."

COPYRIGHT 2007

Celebrating normalcy...

2007-01-16T11:26:00.000-05:00

Yes, yes, I know. It's been a long while since I posted here. This Holiday Season has to have been the worse on record for me. Both kids were sick at one time or another. MAJOR STRESS. I had tonsillitis twice between Thanksgiving and New Years. And then, to top things off, I end up with some evil, wickedass illness that made my face swell up like Fat Bastard from Austin Powers! WTF?? I was scared, People, crying like a baby. The doctors think it was either an allergic reaction, or an arthritis flare up, or a combination of both. Yeah, comforting.

Well, needless to say, after a round of steroids, antihistamines and an antibiotic, I am back to normal--pretty much. *sigh*

So, in celebration of my return to normalcy, I am giving away a copy of Sacrilegious to one lucky blog reader!! Just email me at SavannahJordan@gmail.com and tell me what one of the deitites names is to be entered!

Yay, normalcy!!

Sariah's back...

2006-12-12T09:38:00.000-05:00

And she's pissed off! *wicked grin* I've not posted in awhile, but I thought to pour a little of my particular bitch werewolf venom in here to fill the gnawing void of fresh blood. :)...

The streets passed unnoticed beneath her feet as she mulled the night's events over in her mind. The full moon hung above her, mocking the humanity she clung to with such persistence. Back home, her Den was full of Werewolves and Pinks, the streets were full of lunatics gone crazy in the moonlight, and somewhere in the city, Xander was in full form, probably tearing his way through another girl who would only live if she was lucky.

Sariah managed to work herself into a foul mood by the time her feet set down upon the planking of her porch. Music still belched from the windows, reverberated from the walls. The cacophony poured out as she opened the door, drowning her in its annoying rhythm. She stepped into the foyer, slammed the door shut and clapped her hands over her ears.

"Turn the fucking stereo off!" She roared.

She waited.

She waited too long.

Sariah caged a growl behind her teeth. She hated to be ignored. She waded through the coupled bodies writhing on the floor of the parlor, kicking a stray male who dared to look at her and didn't look away quick enough. She stopped in front of the wall of vibrating electronic devices and punched the 'POWER' button.

The throbbing pulse stopped, the sudden silence occasionally punctuated by moans or growls of those too engrossed in their carnal pursuits to acknowledge her. Sariah's thigh muscle twitched as she forced back the urge to kick the interloping whelp again.

Meghan showed in the doorway, hands curled to fists on the round curve of her hips. A stunted, unpleasant grin twisted her lips as she locked eyes with Sariah. Tension, thick and heavy, boiled up in the silent space between them.

"Rough night?" Meghan mocked.

"Still pissed about before I see," Sariah threw back.

"Well, it takes a while for me to get over some things." Meghan's eyes narrowed, an angry glare pinched between the lids. "But you wouldn't know about that…"

"Shut up, Meghan."

The redhead crossed her arms over her chest. She shifted her weight on her hips. She returned Sariah's heated glare. "And what if I don't--are you going to kick me, too? Beat me like a Pink?"

"Bitch," Sariah huffed as she pushed past Meghan. She'd had enough of her confidante's insolence, and didn't want to continue on with another argument.

"Takes one to make one!" Meghan shot back.

Sariah stopped dead in her tracks. That particular barb always stung her, and Meghan knew it. She used it like a muzzle to clamp the blonde's mouth shut. Sariah stood on the bottom stair, her rancor sluiced from her. She was empty without that anger to cling to. Her amber eyes turned down to her foot on the stair. "Sorry," she breathed, not sure of whether Meghan heard.

"Sometimes I wish you were…"

"Me too."

Sariah climbed the staircase, slumping her shoulders and allowing her jacket to pour from her back. The bottom hem snagged on her extended left hand and a jacket sleeve thumped the edge of each step. She paused at the top, debating on whether or not to turn and say something more to Meghan. But she knew it was of no use, she could sense that Meghan had retreated to the parlor for solace and a cup of hot tea.

What a night, Sariah fumed. I hate full moons!

She turned the knob on her bedroom door and stepped in. The room was blessedly empty. Sariah closed the door behind her with a shove of her foot, and then whipped her jacket into the closet. Hangers clattered, and clothing fell to the floor to be ignored until morning. The Persian rug, woven in ivory tones and accented with blood roses, accepted her kicked off boots, and then she padded barefoot and peeling off clothes as she walked through the room and toward her bathroom.

The white porcelain tiles were cool beneath her feet when Sariah turned on the light, and she sighed. This was her favorite room in the entire house. The room was pristine--whites, blushes and burgundies--despite the number of times she'd washed away the blood from her path of vengeance.

Naked, Sariah stepped into the tub and turned the faucet handles. Hot water soon lapped along the sides, and she settled deep into the tub, her hair floating mermaid-like around her submerged face. She laid there, body unmoving, but her mind buzzing over the night's events, and her life's dark track. Air bubbled in a thin stream out of her nose, her lungs burned with pressure of kept breath. It would be so easy to end it all, just inhale and drown--easy, if she was human.

Occasionally, Sariah had to remind herself that she was no longer human. This was not, however, one of those moments. The locked door and bath water disguised her bitter tears.

The bath water cooled, to the point of discomfort. Sariah climbed from the tub as the chills prickled and climbed her flesh. She pulled the terrycloth robe up her arms, across her nipples and wrapped it tight around her stomach. Moisture wicked from her skin and into thick fabric as she walked back into her bedroom. She loosed the sash and the robe dropped to the floor.

Sariah scanned herself in a VSE, visual surveillance of extremities. The evidence of her Were tendencies was gone, no fur, no claws, no fangs. Gone, too, was the blood which she’d shed this night, no flesh beneath her fingernails, no sanguine stain in the ridges of her fingerprints.
She sighed.

Naked. Human. Or, at least she appeared that way.

She paused a moment, and then ran a fingertip along the curved seams of her quilt. “Double wedding ring pattern,” her grandmother said, so many moons ago. A sudden sob caught in Sariah’s throat. She snuffled back tears. Not just any wedding ring quilt; it was intended as a gift for her wedding, the wedding that never happened. There’s no marrying a corpse. Stephan Colinford was slaughtered the day before their ceremony, and also the day that Xander turned her Were...
COPYRIGHT 2006

Autumnal offering

2006-10-28T11:40:00.000-04:00

In the mood of the season...

The angel breezed by, her wings sparkling and her halo askew. She giggled, a high sweet sound in the deepening twilight. A devil followed close behind, his tail dragging in the gravel, his pitchfork snagged on the angel’s skirts.

Then, their mother walked past. Each engrossed in their pursuit of sweet treats, and all oblivious to me.

I lay beneath a golden maple, upon the carpet of autumn’s splendor. A chill breeze unsettled my costume in its passage. And, the fallen leaves whispered softly beneath my weight--complaining, displeased that my blood stained them scarlet…

Happy Halloween

2006-10-24T09:59:00.000-04:00

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

I simply could not resist sharing this with the blogverse. Thanks so much to Andrea for sending the pic to me!

Okay, so news...
1.) Sacrilegious has gotten two fab reviews! Check them out:
CTR gives Sacreligious 4 CUPS!!
And below you can see what Just Erotic Romance Reviews had to say:
In Pursuit of Prey
Rating: 5 Stars Heat Level: O
Sekhmet, a feline goddess, has a need. When she forces herself into human form and creates modern clothing for the hunt, she senses her prey and stalks him, seducing him with her body. Her prey is handsome Mace, used to being in control, but now he totally submits himself to her lust.The whole idea behind this book intrigued me. The cover and subject matter made me eager to read this story. From page one I could feel the need Sekhmet had for sexual release and for her mate. This is a very well-written story with characters that were well developed, for such a short story. Sekhmet came to life on the pages. Her personality is one that defines a goddess. You could almost feel the soft feline hair on her body as she brushed past you. Mace is strong and used to being the Dom but in Sekhmet he’s met his match. The sex starts on page one and gets hotter as the story progresses. I truly enjoyed every bit of it! This was more than mere sex; Sekhmet and Mace have a relationship, a commitment to each other that is one forged in love.
From The Sands
Rating: 5 Stars Heat Level: O
At a costume party called “Devil’s Party”, Bianca feels the eyes of a stranger following her. Their movements seem synchronized. She is overcome with desire but it frightens her so much that she runs away. The stranger follows, almost stalking her; however, when she asks him to come to her, he refuses. He is Anubis, the canine-like god of the dead, but what Bianca does not know is that she had been bound to him for all eternity. This story struck me from page one. I could hardly wait to turn the page to see what would happen next. This is one hot story. I may never look at my dog in the same way again. The sexual tension between the two main characters was intense. Bianca showed little self-confidence; she is the perfect mate for strong and dominant Anubis. Anubis is strong and dominating in a canine way. He is in control from the beginning. He’s silent and stalks Bianca in such a way that the sexual tension builds. It was more than sex; it was a relationship that was born out of love and the past. Anubis just oozed sex. The sex was hot! The plot builds up toward the ending and the sexual tension builds to a climax so much so that I joined in. This story left me breathless and throbbing. I felt as though I belonged to Anubis, I became so involved in this story that I kept forgetting that the story was about Bianca and not me. If you enjoy strong dominant men with a bit of canine instinct thrown in, you must read this book.
Divine Intervention
Rating: 3 Stars Heat Level: H
Maxim is a writer but lately he seems unable to write; something is missing in his life. He heads to the “Kat Klub” knowing he has a deadline and that he will not make it. Sesha is Seshat, the goddess of writing. She knows exactly what Maxim needs: passion and it’s just what she plans to deliver. Maxim submits totally to Sesha only to find the pain of lost passion.This is an unusual story. Divine Intervention is a well-written story; however, I didn’t like either of the main characters. I found Maxim annoying but well developed. Sesha is a strong character, one that enjoys dominating her man. She would enjoy knowing a man longs for her to the point of pain and knows he can never truly touch her heart. This was my least favorite of the three. The plot was interesting. The author demonstrated the need for writers to experience what they are writing about. The sex was hot but I found the relationship lacking. There was little commitment on the part of Sesha. Seeing Maxim suffer made me sad. If you don’t like dominating women, pass on this story.
Annie Deb, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

2.) I am frantically scrambling to pull together a worthy submission for my real name's book due out in December. The editor I contacted is interested in seeing what I have--which at current moment isn't quite enough.

3.)Exciting news, the fabulous cover artist Anne Cain will be designing a custom logo for me for a personal website! It will be a combination of an image from a family heirlom and a personal picture, so it will be a semi-realistic portrait of 'yours truly' as a goddess!!

Okay, back to the grindstone...

Sasha's Suffering

2006-10-10T08:26:00.000-04:00

**Because Tempest asked for it...**

Sasha wiped away tears, her fingers leaving swatches of her blood and his powdered flesh across the arch of her cheek. The sanguine pasted liquefied with her tears and trickled down, running across her bottom lip. Absentmindedly, she ran her tongue along her lip, taking in the potent poison of vampire flesh and human pain.

The key of the music box cranked over a turn as she clutched the box tighter to her chest. When she exhaled in a sob, the key turned the box through one chord of the haunting song Raenos had chosen for his bride-to-be. Her heart pounded, hurting in the music box's unnatural rhythm and the ache wrenched a fresh sob from Sasha's throat. She dropped the dagger back to the ashes, and turned the box so that the hinges were away from her. A fouled fingertip ran along the gilded edge, and then she pried the box open. The fixative fumes rushed through her nose, heavy with the iron scent of her lover's last blood. Sasha coughed, the acrid scent burning her nose, and then she dropped the box as well.

She knelt there, amidst his strewn ashes. Her raw wounds soaked in his dusted remains, her throat coated with a mix of his flesh and her tears, her heart now nothing more than an aching organ playing a forced, foreign tune.

A sick numbness settled into Sasha's body. The chill grip of death coiled tighter around her, squeezing the air from her lungs and tears from her eyes. And, when she thought she could ache no more, she twisted the music box's key again to allow the tune to torment her soul. If she was to die by his bite, poisoned by his ashen flesh, then she meant to die listening to the song he chose for her. Sasha wished to slip into the darkness, riding his tune into an eternity of death immersed in his rhythm.

Her body pitched backward, limbs jerking violently in the throes of death. Her lungs seized, her jaw fell open and then her joints locked, yet Sasha's heart pounded in that savage cadence. Her mind throbbed with the rhythm. Her tears, mingled with his toxic dust, dripped between her lips and soaked through the back of her throat.

Everything ceased and the music box's tune was her only perception...

**Tempset Darling, do you realize that there is an entire short story on Sasha in the back of my book Sacreligious? Small price, great story(ies) *wink*... Click here.**

PRIMAL REQUIEM EXCERPT: Sasha's Rise

2006-09-16T11:30:00.000-04:00

**This follows after The First Movement: Raenos's Regret, where Raenos ends his life believing that he has killed the only woman he ever loved. Sasha, his lover, survives his bite, and wakes...**

Death lay upon her like a languished lover.

The warmth of his body, the warmth of her blood was gone. Consciousness came and went. Chills swept her body, but her skin no longer held the ability to respond. Her heart scarcely beat, and pumped only ache in a slow dance through inert veins. Breathing took all of her will. Speech would not yield itself, nor would her eyes open to the drama which swept the stage of her hearing.

Sasha was alone, and in torment.

She heard his hymn, she knew his plans. And she was unable to stop him. Raenos was doubly guilty, of his suicide and her inability to prevent it. For though she suffered, lingering near death, she loved him still, no matter his sins. She would have offered her throat had he not taken it; she would have surrendered the sun to live in the shadows with him. But, when he drove that dagger into his own chest, he cut out her heart as well.

His fall was hers.

Raenos had cried out his remorse and fallen silent. A tear slipped down her cheek that she could not wipe away. It trailed down her chin, to mingle in the single track of blood across her neck. Sasha surrendered to the encroaching darkness. She sighed, and fell into the arms of black sleep.

But, her rest was not eternal, as she had hoped.

Hours later, the chill of evening crept through the window and woke her with its icy touch. She shivered, the frigid temperature seeping into the marrow of her bones, shuddering through her limbs. Sasha rolled onto her side, groaning against the pain wracking her. The room spun before her glazed eyes and then righted itself with a sickening lurch. Her stomach convulsed, regurgitating spent acid and clotted blood that had drained into her stomach from Raenos's last kiss. She lay, head hanging only inches above the fetid mess on the floor, the true weight of his attack levied upon her with the sight of her own blood.

Her lover was a vampire. In their passion and his savage hunger, Raenos had lost control of the beast in his blood, riding hard between her thighs as he sank his fangs deep in her throat. His primal instincts drove pain and pleasure through her in rhythmic time as he took her toward climax and death in one.

Bliss burned through her, flooding in waves from her core even as he pulled on the last of her life essence. She gasped once, and her eyes fell closed. Raenos had released her then, his canines, hot as branding irons, ripped out of her flesh. A low moan escaped him as he looked at her pale face, and the thin line of blood which trailed across her flesh. He lifted her head, kissing her lax lips, allowing the metallic spill of her own blood to drain into her gut.

Raenos had stumbled backward, then, tearing at his hair and screaming. He could not forgive himself for his sin; his heart broke with a near audible snap, and, void of emotion as he turned toward his workbench.

Now, he was gone, missing from her side, missing from their bedchamber--missing, she was afraid, from life itself. Sasha refused to believe him dead. She dragged her body off from the bed to fall with a sick thud to the hard floor. The evidence of Raenos's self-afflicted wounds lay in thick pool on the floor, and led in a crimson trail out of the room. Trembling, Sasha followed his path through the hallway, tumbled in a loose mess down the stairs to and came to a stop at the bottom. His blood slick lay atop the fibers of the Persian rug she'd once chose to grace the foyer. Sasha clawed her way across the fibers, over the threshold and out into the shadows of evening.

The truth lay before her.

A scorched ring of black encircled ashes piled in the shape of a man. Sobs wracked Sasha's body, but died in her parched throat. Bringing tears hurt, the moisture stung her dry eyes, yet she cried. She crawled toward the evidence of his demise, her knees rubbed raw, her fingernails broke off, her raw flesh leaving ghosts of red behind as she crawled.

She knelt where his head should be, touching the dust which was once the black waves she loved to run her fingers through. Tears fell freely as his ashes packed her raw wounds. Weak from blood loss and exertion, Sasha dragged her legs beneath her, forced her body into a kneeling position as she pulled her betrothal gift from atop the mound of ashes. She recognized its shape, she had lain and watched Raenos carving it. She stroked its gilded surface with an ash-and-blood fingertip before tucking it into the crook of an elbow as she rescued her lover's dagger from his remains as well.

A spark of light caught her eye. She leaned forward, sifting her hands through her lover's remains until she retrieved Raenos's signet ring. The bauble, an heirloom passed through his family for generations, rested on her palm. A band of warm yellow gold, with a large squared field of red enamel beneath the coiled, black form of a carved onyx dragon. She slipped the ring over the knuckle on the middle finger of her life hand, binding herself to him with what was left of her life.

It was her ring now, his legacy now her burden to bear...

(Copyright, Savannah Jordan 2006)

Concert to close Summer

2006-09-13T11:29:00.000-04:00

**WARNING: Gratuitous bitching will ensue**

Yeah. It was supposed to the concert event to close out the Summer (a season I am VERY happy to see end). Well, it started raining the damn day before and didn't stop. And, cold rain, too, the kind of damp cold shyt that is not good for my arthritis.

We decided to go, regardless of the weather, $40 is a lot to choke down. Raingear was dragged out, turtle neck and sweatshirts donned, along with jeans and sneakers. I felt like a kid going to school. Hell, my girlfriend Weezer even wore a yellow slicker! Cute on her, too, but she looked like the Unibomber minus the aviatar sunglasses and facial hair. Abby was bundled in blue. Me?? One of those trashbag looking ponchos--oh yeah, loved that look...

Well, we were stuck parking way the fuck out in the feild on the far side of the fair. We walked through the feild, down the hill and into the fairgrounds. Dozens of other people were wearing trashbag ponchos, so at least I didn't feel like a complete fashion accident on feet. We wondered the lanes of Carnies calling for us to play their games--poor bastards looked pretty dismal sitting there like Mother Nature had handed them their own asses. Needless to say, we ladies were above that, so we moved on. We ended up finding a food vendor who had loaded baked potatoes, so we had some hot, somewhat-wholesome food before walking into the track/venue for the Nickelback/Hoobastank/Chevelle/Hinder concert.

The pisser is, Hinder fucking backed out!! Yeah, the one band we all wanted to see other than Nickelback. I hope that band is making good money somewhere else, because I know they pissed off a lot of Michigan rednecks that night!

The race track looked like a mud pit from Hell, a good damned inch of slippery, sloppy muck sucking at your shoes with every step. Lovely. I don't know if I've ever laid it out here, but I HATE dirt. The entire place was dirt. Ew! We walked from vendor booths at one end of the mudfuckingpit to the other, and Abby finally settled on a Nickelback cap. We slopped our way across the mudfuckingpit to the grandstand seating, such as it was, and we managed to stay dry through Chevelle. Not a bad band, especially for not recognizing anything they played. Well, okay, one or two songs of their songs had a ghost of familiarity.

Then, oh yippee fucking skippee, an usher comes up and tells us we are sitting in assigned seating and that we needed to move. We already knew that. It was just a matter of time before we descended the stairs into Hellmuthafuckingmudpit.

Hoobastank--who choose that name??--was okay, I guess. Not as good as the other band that I didn't know, but hey, it was raining, so what the hell, let's stand through mediocrity while waiting for Nickelback.

FINALLY, Nickelback took the stage. It would have been an awesome moment, seeing as the rain had actually stopped, and the tremors in my thigh had ceased as well. Nope. No way. Not happening. We were accosted with the mating calls of inebriated Squealing ColorGuard Bitches. The moment light swathed Chad Kroeger, the teeny weeny teeny boppers started screeching like bitches in heat. "OMG! He's so fucking hot!" Followed by three rabid magpie others. "OMG!! HE'S SO FUCKING HOT!!" Over and over and over again.

No shit. We all know that he's hot, so does he. He also can't hear a damn thing you're caterwauling in my ear!!! Everything fiber of my being screamed to turn and throttle the Squealers, but last time I checked, infanticide was illeagal. "Shut the fuck up," kept dancing on my lips. I resisted the urge to drive their faces into the quagmire we were all standing in.

Other than that, Nickelback rocked ass. They are one of my favorite bands, and once the flock of Squealers took flight, my girlfriends and I enjoyed the show. They didn't play Follow You Home (my favorite), but every other song was awesome. The best tune of the night, for me, was Savin Me--I love that song--followed closely by Figured You Out.

Oh, and Weezer introduced me to a new tune--big fun!--on the way. Cory Lee's title, The Naughty Song. If you don't have it, and you like that naughty, slink-across-the-floor kind of music, go get it! (My friends out there know my email, so if y'all want it, let me know and I'll email ya the file)

So, in summation, the concert season was awesome, but Summer can get the fuck out. Come on Fall!!

Pissed pussycat

2006-09-02T14:53:00.000-04:00

Okay, now I love animals, especially cats, but this video clip had me laughing my ass off...

http://www.break.com/index/looking_for_a_happy_home.html

PRIMAL REQUIEM EXCERPT

2006-08-17T11:25:00.000-04:00

Okay, I know it's been a while since I posted something excerpt-ish, so for anyone interested in reading, here's a bit from my upcoming Aphrodite's Apples collection title Primal Requiem.

The First Movement:
Raenos's Regret

Knuckles dripped red. Lamplight flashed from a blade, and his dark irises. Heat built, behind him in the fireplace and within. The rhythm pulsed in his ears, his heart, his soul. Sweat stung his eyes. He pushed back wavy, jet hair and wiped the sweat away, leaving behind a blood-and-sawdust smear. He turned the hand-carved box, examined his craftsmanship--it was nearly done. The tool slipped, its honed edge cutting deep into his hand. His palm now bled, too, the sanguine stain soaking into the raw wood. He smiled, pristine white fangs exposed beneath his lips.

Raenos bled, and it was good.

The blood fell, fat drop by fat drop, to sizzle and steam on the surface as it soaked into the fibers. He watched that poison pour from his vein, and allowed its memories to flood him.

He could see that fire, so very long ago, and the villagers circling it. Lilitu appeared from the shadows, clothed like a goddess and dancing like sin. She was a succubus, beautiful and bewitching, and he felt certain she would be the death of him. He was right--she took his blood, took his life and made him Upyr. She was, however, only a piece to his pained puzzle; she was a dark angel with a darker gift. He eagerly plunged into the fresh passions flowing in his veins, the next few hundred years became a bloody blur, until he found a soul that could touch his again.

Only this time she was human and he was the killer.

She was stunning, sassy yet sophisticated--Sasha warmed his bed, and his heart. Their steamy nights gave rise to new passions within him and he grew to love her deeply. Yet, now she lay upon his bed, her fiery red hair in stark juxtaposition to her pale white countenance. Crimson trailed across her throat like a choker necklace, but he knew better. That red line was her life essence, the spillover from what he had so greedily stolen. If she could wake, she had only death to look forward to. If she did not wake, he hoped her death dreams were not of him, her lover gone mad with blood lust.

Raenos heart pounded its primal rhythm, an echoed back-beat of pain. He had loved her too much--in his fervor, he had loved her to death. He turned back to his work, what was meant to be a betrothal gift for Sasha. His shoulders sank, a tear fell to thin the coating of blood. He stowed away his carving tools, cleared the workbench of clutter and then brought out sheets of gold leaf and paints. Raenos worked with a delicate touch, pressing the gold leaf deep into the detailed carving. His heart pounded in that condemned cadence, pushing hurt and loss through his veins, yet he kept a steady hand as he stroked the paint across the surface.

The box glistened, a beautiful receptacle for the powerful emotions he poured into it. His slit wrist dripped, pumping blood in rhythm with his vampire heart and that blood soaking into the unfinished interior.

Impatience exuded from him, metered out in his pacing as he watch the moon's path--the night was almost over. The paint was still tacky when he picked it up again, but the gold-leafed edges were solid and safe. He used them to brace the box as he fixed the felt lining down. The glue mixed with the iron scent of his blood, giving off a dizzying fume. He sat in his chair only a moment before resuming his pacing. The moon's lip kissed the edge of the tree tops when Raenos took up the music mechanism and the blade.

"Libera me, Domine, de morte æterna, in die illa tremenda, quando coeli movendi sunt et terra," he whispered. "Dum veneris judicare sæculum per ignem."

Then he repeated his personal requiem in Sasha's language, so that she could hear his liturgy if life remained in her. "Free me from eternal death upon that terrible day," He sobbed, wiped away fresh tears and then finished the refrain, "when thou comest to judge the world with fire."

Then, Raenos plunged the blade deep into his chest, cleaving the cavity's surface. The misguided blade severed vessels and pierced a lung, the air wheezing through the ragged cut as he struggled.

"Libera me, Domine, de morte æterna."

Blood trickled from his mouth when he spoke, but then gushed when he drove the blade home. The sharpened edge cut deep into the pumping muscle, that organ which ever played his eternal tune of torment. The immortal rhythm faltered. Blood deluged the box which he clutched to his chest with one arm. With the other arm, he twisted the buried blade.

"Dum veneris judicare sæculum per ignem."

Raenos stowed the dagger in a sheath at his waist and sank to his knees. He placed the box upon the floor, fished the musical mechanism from the sanguine spill within. Tears fell as he poured off the excess blood from its depths; he cared not to encapsulate his sanguine shame, only the last of his life blood would be kept. Fingers faltered as he removed the key then, he nestled the music box in the corner, and reinserted the key from the outside.

CONTEST WINNERS!!

2006-08-16T13:40:00.000-04:00

The contest to 'Get Sacrilegious' has come to a close, and with the help of my daughter, two names have been drawn.

*drum roll please*

"And the winners are:" Jude Mason, and Michelle Bauer!!

The winners email addresses have been forwarded to my publisher, and Aphrodite's Apples will be contacting them with the passwords and info to download their free copy of Sacrilegious.

Congratulations to the winners, and thanks to everyone who entered!

Bright Blessings!
Savvy

GET SACRILEGIOUS!!

2006-08-09T10:05:00.000-04:00

CONTEST TO 'GET SACRILEGIOUS'

Okay, Everybody, I've thought about this one for a while now. It's time for a promo, time for a contest, time to giveaway a copy of the e-book! But, of course, being 'me,' I can't make it easy on ya. MUAhahaha

So, here's the rub: answer three questions about the deities of Sacrilegious, email your answers to me, and the one who answers them all correctly will win. In the event of a tie for number of correct answers, I will draw names.

You have one week. Next Wednesday I will contact the winner.

Here are your questions:

Anubis, jackal-headed god of the dead, has another name that begins with 'A,' and has only four letters--what is it?
Sekhmet, goddess of sexual heat and vengeance, is also known as 'The Eye of" whom?
Seshat, goddess of writing and numbers, is often depicted wearing the pelt of which animal?

And the email to send the answers to is:

savannahsjordan@yahoo.com

Good luck!

THANK YOU, CANDICE!!

2006-08-02T10:23:00.000-04:00

My regular visitors here might notice the difference. Might not. But, I sure do, and I have to give a great big thanks to my good friend Candice Gilmer for dressing up my bog. I am no tech diva, and the changes made here were made by Candice. And, on top of being tech savvy and a good friend, she's also a great writer! If you're into sci-fi, or romance, or just a good read, go check out Candice's title Unified Souls, available in e-book from Aphrodite's Apples Press.

THANKS CANDICE!!!

SACRILEGIOUS IS RELEASED!!!

2006-07-27T13:30:00.000-04:00

Explore the decadent couplings of Egyptian deities and their mortal consorts.
Savor the sensuality of their intense passions.
Sacrifice yourself on the altar of the gods…

That's right! I am back on the blogs and my book has been released. Check out Sacrilegious at the launch of Aphrodite's Apples Press. And while you're there, shop around, the other gals have some great reading just waiting for you!

Oh, and make sure to check out my photographer's website www.volkstudio.com He's a brilliant guy, and I highly recommend working with him if you ever need a professional photographer. And, his model Lorraine is just gorgeous. :)

Gorram Mosh Pit!!!!

2006-07-04T23:31:00.000-04:00

Yeah, you read that right. Wasn't intended. Believe me. The lead singer of Shinedown had the thousand-plus crowd part the ways like Moses and the Red Sea. Then he said, "Now that you know what it's like to be separated, I want you to come together and share you energies in a tornado of..." I couldn't hear a gorram thing past that for the rushing tide of flesh and the wails of the trampled. Thousand-plus people churning, bumping, thumping, pushing, pulling, tugging, crying and swearing. A damn MADHOUSE!! And, I did not come out unscathed. That's right. Thanks to, well, 'opposing f-ig forces' I have a severe strain in the tendons of my left elbow.

Yeah, fun....

Quote from #1 Reader... "Yee and might I say Ha."

Good thing the music was rocked.

SPIDERMAN 3 Trailer

2006-06-30T13:37:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I know, lots of links lately, but DAMN I am SO there!!!!

http://www.break.com/index/spiderman3trailer.html

Give and take

2006-06-26T22:51:00.000-04:00

Give and take
neglecting you
hurting me
the wrist aches
the blade bleeds
cut it out
cutting me
forgiving you
forgetting me
the precipice beckons
the feet betray
step over the edge
stand alone
telling you
listening to me
no quarter given
none deserved
give and take
of hurting you
hurting me
no me left
tears took it all
hurting you
killing me

LINKAGE

2006-06-19T22:33:00.000-04:00

Supreme awesome ass linkage!! The DH sent me this link.
http://www.worksafevideos.com/music_videos/
OMG it's so much fuckin fun!! Do not follow unless you want to waste a LOT of time... *sigh*

My two favorites, so far at least are,
BLUE MURDER's Jelly Roll
http://www.worksafevideos.com/music_videos/videos.php?vid=PsSxJcPcmcM
(massive botty shakin' going on!)

BULLET BOYS' Smooth up in ya (of course!)
http://www.worksafevideos.com/music_videos/videos.php?vid=TM6wp8KHCTg
(Smooth up in ya... enough said)

2006-06-14T17:55:00.000-04:00

MUAhahahahaha Remember that if you ever see me live. Like Kat says in Ten Things I Hate About You, "I'm Scary."

Whipping cookies

2006-06-07T08:26:00.000-04:00

No, I am not baking. My brain is whipping cookies in my skull. Round and round and round. Edits, writing, edits, writing... Oh, and Hey! For fun let's throw in working up a submission to DH Press with whom I made contact through a pilfered picture.

I've finished the Sacrilegious stories, except for a the afore mentioned edits and a scene fluffage or two. I still have the novel to finish rewriting for Samhain. And all I want to do is bury my head in my bitch Sariah. The vampires are rising up through my author guts, too, though. I can feel their particular poison spread in pulses of dark seduction through my veins. *sigh* Sanguinary shadows...

BTW, for any of you wondering, I found out who painted my avatar pic. Her name is Victoria Frances, and she is super talented!! The editor from DH Press sent me her first graphic novel, Favole, Stone Tears. You can find products with her artwork on it on www.darkhorse.com The picture I have been using is named Libera Me. And, if it wasn't for that picture, I most likely would not be in contact like I have been with the senior editor at DH Press. So, in a round about way... Thank you, Victoria!

Okay, now how about an excerpt for y'all?? This will be about mid way through HUNTED:

Sariah was not dressed for killing. Her low rise demins clung to her ass and showed off the crystal in her navel and those on the back of her thong. Her blouse, if you could call it that, covered her breasts but barely and cascaded in filmy gauze down her arms. Her choker was tight, black, with a bloody red pendant hanging at her throat. She wore nothing else. There was no need. She ruled here. This was her turf, her territory.

The lights throbbed, the speakers bled rhythm. The recirculated air blew sex, smoke and arrogance. Yet, still she could smell him. His pompous depravity accosted her sinuses.

"That bastard is here somewhere," she snarled under her breath. Meghan stopped dead in her tracks. "Keep moving," Sariah barked. "He doesn't need to know that we are aware of him. Better that he doesn't know. Better for us. Better for me…"

It would end this night, Sariah would see to it. She was going to find Xander and she was going to rip his heart out, like he had done to her.

**It's good to be back**

Book Expo America

2006-05-22T08:34:00.000-04:00

Holy crap, Jordanites! That was one helluva ride. Never, never have I seen so many books and so many people in my friggin life! That convention center's lower level could have easily contained the downtown district of my entire town! No. Seriously. That place is HUGE. Big enough to have it's own newspaper of the convention's events, and have maps all over to find the thousands of exhibitors.

I made some great contacts, too, buzzed up some interest in my work. There won't be names dropped here in the blog, but I can put out some links to webby's of those people I spoke to for various projects:
M PRESS/DH PRESS (senior editor)
Wizards fo the Coast (Brand Director)
The RGU Group (Pub and Marketing manager asked to see my children's story and stuffie!)
Llewelyn Worldwide (not sure of her position but, damn, she was a sweatheart! They are interested in looking at a proposal for a non-fic project title Soul Deep, about soul's connections)
New Page Books (Michael somebody, don't remember his title. He's also interested in the the non-fic title)

They are others that we spoke with, but the one's listed above showed interest in me and my work. So WOO HOO!!!

Funny thing is, the guy from M PRESS/DH PRESS, I had no idea how big of a person he is with the imprint or in the parent company (because it's an imprint of a f*cking huge comic book house). I was just normal ole sassy me. I stopped to admire a cover, and he stepped up and asked, "Are you a Vampire D reader?" I replied, "No, I'm a vampire writer." From there, he started asking pointed questions, like "time period" to which I replied, "Ancient Egypt to Celtic Ireland, to the Burning Times to modern day for my vampires, modern day for my Were's, because I figure why limit yourself?" The rest were answered in a similar rather SavannahSass manner. He ended up smiling, handing me his card and telling me to get in touch with him.

The lady we spoke with at WOC was nice. My agent gave her a quick run down of Dark, and then she said, "Savannah (named changed for obvious reasons) can tell you about her Werewolf." Oy! So, I start laying out the concept for Sariah and she's loving it. She says they are looking for manuscripts like that. So, is Savannah-style I say, "Would you like to look at one more?" And I whip out my only copy of the printed proposal. She took it and my b'ness cards, too!

The gal from Llewellyn gave me a set of tarot cards (major arcana). They are goregeous! And I got a major buttload of freebies and ARCs. Although I didn't pick up anything in my own genre; pagan stuff mostly and some things for my kids. One or two ARC's for me, and a whole bunch of catalogs. Oh, and the guy from DH PRESS sent me home with a awesome 'coffin' of artwork from their artist.

And, the Anubis story was finished on the airplane on the way home. Now I just need to type it in and then *ahem* get on with the guy's POV story. Heeehehehehe Basically that means I will still be kind of quiet for the rest of the week.

Missed y'all madly!!

2006-04-25T16:13:00.000-04:00

The last victim lay, crushed and eviscerated, beneath her second floor balcony. A red trail led up her trellis. Shed fur and nails clumped upon her chamber floor. She sat, quill to parchment. Blood dripped from her jaws to stain the paper and foul the feathers pinched in her fingers as she wrote:

I Would Cease…

I would that this renegade heart
Cease within my breast
That I might be free of its permanent pain

I would that this severed soul
Cease its tattered bleeding
That I might be free of this venom not my own

I would that I not be this beast,
Cease to be that, which I most despise,
That I might not suffer such sanguine savagery

I would that I had died when he left me,
Cease in my quest for life
For in the blessed death of sleep I would be free

I would live this life no more
Cease the slaughter I embraced
For alive, alone, my heart howls in silence

I would cease…

~by Sariah DuShayne, upon the hundredth full moon

UPDATE: "just a quickie"

2006-04-20T11:40:00.000-04:00

OMG

Nearly halfway there! I am SO totally fried. I wrangled out 20 pages of rewrites yesterday!! My brain is banging a wicked tattoo in its case, my eyes ache and my ears are ringing from compulsive Hinder pumping through them. Ahhhh, the life of a published (soon to be) writer. :)

Fantasy is a force to be reckoned with in comparison to my usual erotica. I would so much rather play in the in the sanguine shadows of dark desires...

Somewhat hollow

fingers aching from the strain

eyes closed on reality

brain numbed by the pain

blood running

down my flesh and my throat

another victim fallen

I pick myself up and move on

One last Sariah post...

2006-04-15T16:53:00.000-04:00

**Okay, I lied. I am gonna post one more thing... Another Sariah post. She's been insistent throughout, and I cannot easily turn away. But, I can attempt to tame my Bitch...**

This piece follows after my post Catty Continuation: Sariah's true mate, directly after the lionen Were/Sariah love scene...

The moment of bliss was brief.

He collapsed beside her, the graceful feline form flowing from him. He was the same man; same body, same ruddy brown hair and cocoa eyes. His face was as beautiful as the night of Xander's attack. Yet now it was haunted, melancholy; guilty even. He reached out to touch her cheek but stopped, the warmth of his flesh whispering against her skin. A tear slipped down his own. His bottom lip trembled.

"Sariah," he whispered. He tried to speak more, but a sob caught in his throat. Then, he did the unthinkable. He pulled away from her. He sat in an awkward cross-legged position, covering the part of him with which he had touched inside her.

"Stuart, what are you doing?"

"I… I'm sorry, Sariah. It's not what I am doing, but what I should not have done. I should not have come back. I should have never allowed you to love me... again… never allowed you to cloud my heart."
Sick shock settled into Sariah. His words hurt worse than any physical injury; they cut deep, tearing at her broken heart. She was struck silent, unable to retort, unable to speak. She rose up onto her knees, beseeching him with her posture. She reached for him, and he inched back, allowing only the barest tip of her finger to touch his skin. Tears bled from her eyes. Her heart convulsed in pain unknown. She was losing him. "Stuart?" she murmured. "I don't understand how you can do this to me. Why did you even touch me, touch my heart again? Please… come here."

"I cannot." Dark loss rang in his voice. "I don't know… I couldn't help myself, Sariah, but I do not want to love you again – still. It hurts too much, Sariah."

"But, we are free to be together now. Xander's gone, I saw to that."

Stuart actually flinched. "I know – I watched you exact your vengeance on him. Slaughter solves nothing, Sariah. I cannot come back to you knowing how many lives, how many men you've destroyed in your quest for vengeance. Knowing what you've become, I cannot give my love, my heart and soul, to you."

Anger trickled in to taint her shock.

Her teeth ached to sink into something, to gnash out her pain. Breath came and in went in hurried, hurtful gasps. Her hands balled up into hard, horrid fists. "You cannot give your love to me?" She sniffed. "You have been alive and had my heart all this time. I never wanted it back, nor do I now. Even if you don't want it, you can keep it. A heart is no good to me broken."

An uncontrolled sob stole its way from her throat. Sariah covered her trembling lips with a hand gone cold. She felt suddenly very naked and ashamed. If she could have taken those words back, she would have. But his words still cut into her. She crossed her arms over her bare breasts and turned from Stuart. She tilted her head down, her hair cascaded forward to curtain her emotional breakdown. Hot tears of heartache streamed down her cheeks.

She did not hear him leave over her own keening. Her only true love crashed back into her life, filled the emptiness in her soul; and as suddenly, with a few words he ripped that away. Her heart, which she had shored up with righteous rage, was dying away within her. She knew nothing but ache, breathed nothing but loss.

Sariah tipped her head back and loosed a howl if ringing pain...

**Now that I've poured that pain out, I am going to turn my mind to Fantasy... Ciao.**

BITTER

2006-04-14T07:05:00.000-04:00

Hunting-tip arrow
Breeches the heart,
Defunct meat brings only
Carrion. Am I dead?

Hanging in the balance
(be not too panglossian)
a word suffices to incline the scales to
Madness…

Stumble.
Where’s the rug??
In your hands, don’t
Negate.

The bird twitters in her glided cage,
But she cries when the door is opened.

Ironic.

Security,
Indian gift, indian giver?

Am I to smile??

The Bitch is back... (Sariah snippet)

2006-04-12T08:06:00.000-04:00

**Yes, Everyone, your favourite werewolf bitch is back in the posts. All I have to say, as the author, is when in sour mood, kill something...**

Sariah dove into black maw of the shop's damaged door.

She rolled, shoulder-spine-hip and up onto her feet. She sidestepped the light pouring through the open frame and cast about for a closet, a cupboard; anything which might contain clothing. There in the corner of the cluttered, dingy backroom stood a small row of lockers.

Padlocks reflected flashlights outside the building as Sariah axe kicked one of the locks off. She wrenched the door open and ransacked the locker.

Hands full of durable twill and denim, she ran for the bathroom. She slammed the door, and forced the bolt into the lock. Sariah trained her ear to the door, listening for others in the shop as she pulled the stiff clothes over her sensitive skin. The denims slipped off from her hips, and the collar and sleeves of the shirt gave her a bedraggled look. The collar brushed her chin. Cheap spicy odor wafted up her nose. She gagged.

"What the hell kind of cologne is this?" She snorted.

She clapped a hand over her mouth and struggled to hold her breath as she stood in the locked, darkened bathroom. She heard footsteps outside the door. The door knob jiggled. The door rattled behind a banging fist.

"Damn thing is locked!" Someone cursed.

No shit, Idiot! Sariah snorted to herself; then suffocated on the stench her snort brought in. She huffed for breath, her hand still over her mouth.

Again, the door rattled. The same man swore.

"There's got to be keys somewhere," his companion said. "Start looking!" The second speaker seemed more level headed. Too bad he was a male.

Sariah's acute hearing took in their departure. She cranked the lock open, shoved the door and ran down the two patrolmen. She caught up the first before he could turn to face her. Her hands smashed against his temples, her arms wrenched viciously, and his neck broke between the first and second vertebrae without so much as a whimper. Her eyes flashed like an animal's as the remaining man aimed his flashlight at her.

She could see him, quivering where he stood, holding the flashlight in shaking hands. Controlled change was useful, and fairly painless. It was time to play…

She snapped her hands out, her Were claws ripping through the tips of her fingers. Her jaw elongated, drool dripped from between her fangs.

"Little pig, little pig," she mocked the officer, "Let me in!"

He squealed in fright, dropped his flashlight in favor of his gun. Sariah charged. The muzzle came up, pointed high and to the right. The hammer came down. A bullet ripped through her shoulder, the force knocked her back to her feet.

No silver.

She laughed only, and then lunged.

He brought up a knee toward her midsection and Sariah cut through the thigh muscle down to the femur. He yowled in pain and yet still fought to use his nightstick as her jaws settled into his shoulder. One good wrench of her neck and his struggle for the club was over; the shoulder separated from the socket. He threw his good arm up, but it was scant defense against this woman scorned. She raked at him with her elongated claws, snapped at him with her Were jaws – a side swipe across his stomach, upper cut to his jaw, and then silence.

His body crumpled as it followed his spilled innards on their outward path to the floor.

A fourth man fell beneath her that night – bloodied, ravaged, disemboweled – just like she liked them. She stood, focused her mind and forced her hands and face back to normal. Sariah smiled. Her stolen clothes remained clean. She squatted down, scooped up her last victim's arm, using the sleeve to wipe the sanguinary slop from her fingers and mouth.

"Stupid ass men," she spat. "You should have stayed out of my way."

Shattered Dreams...

2006-04-10T23:46:00.000-04:00

Was it
nothing but
"silver-tounged tenderness?"

(lulled,
bemused)

Was it only
sugar-coated words, and
honey-dipped tounges?

Or, the
heat,
rhythm,
throbbing
lights,
pulsation,
sensation,
fascination?

It was prevarication,
lies.

Hurt
twice again,
once again,
over again,
again.

Pain
thought once
disregarded thrice
overlooked twice

Smiles??
Only stained memories,
shattered dreams, and deceit.

UFC Ultimate Fight Night

2006-04-07T07:26:00.000-04:00

**Self indulgent post of a different sort. If you don't follow MMA/Ultimate Fighting, you might want to go away and come back tomorrow**

I don't know why they called it "Ultimate Fight Night." Maybe Ultimate Clinch Night. No bombs dropped, no submissions, no knock outs. I'm glad I didn't waste a beer on this one.

Chris Leben had a match with Luigi Somebody-Italian. Chris is supposed to be this kick-ass, take-names fighter. Well, not last night. I was disappointed at the lack of action. Chris won it be decision.
Joe Stevenson fought Josh Neer. I expected Joe to win. He had such a strong showing in the second season of Ultimate Fighter, he beat one of my favorites. Call him Mr. Submissive, I guess, because he tried more submission moves than I've ever seen in a fight. Neer dropped elbows, land a few hits, and won it by decision. (The blood on Joe might have been the deciding factor, bright red in dyed blonde.)
Rashad Evans (MI native) won against a bigger guy, with better reach. But, again, not much action, more clinch. Rashad would shoot, take his opponent down, get him half guard and do nothing with it. Maybe Rashad won because he has better conditioning in his abdominals...
Keith Jardine and Stephen Bonnar was the best fight by far. Still a lot more dancing than I would prefer (in a ring!), but at least they made the fight worth watching. Jardine unloaded leg kick after leg kick, effectively taking BigMouth Bonnar down a notch or two. Jardine pressed the fight, landed more punches. He should have won. SHOULD HAVE. F*cking Bonnar won it be decision. Dammit. I think that was all a popularity contest.

The first episode of The Ultimate Fighter 3 was a great way to end the night. The new stable of fighters has promise. Although I am eager to see the redhead on Shamrock's team get his mouth shut for him. I hate ego. We've seen that the more smack a fighter usually talks, the less they do to back it up. They've mixed things up this season, adding Canadians and two shaved-head Britons to the mix. (Funny, with the Brits, they have subtitles running, like the average American won't be able to understand them.) Also, there's no 'challenges' this season to see who wins the right to pick the fights. That goes by coin toss, and who wins the fight chooses the next. There's new coaches, too. Tito Ortiz and Ken Shamrock. They hate each other. It's awesome!!

Although, honestly, I never liked Shamrock either. I think he's a pretentious bastard. I like Ortiz so much better. Ortiz might be more cocky, but he backs it up. And, Ortiz is a better coach, he choose his guys by their heart, their desire to win and potential to 'be a star.' Shamrock choose whomever he thought could beat Ortiz's guys. Ortiz is also not 'tearing his guys down' first. He's in there, wrestling with them, sparring with them. He's learning his guys by working with them, not by standing back with a clipboard watching them and barking orders.

I am anticipating a great season, lots of tension, and gods willing, some good fights... And I want Oritz to lump up Shamrock at the end of it all. (again!)

WTF in a bowl

2006-04-04T07:51:00.000-04:00

OMG Okay, so I won't try 'authentic Indian cuisine' again. And, no, not Native American 'Indian;' but back of a f*cking camel in hot ass India, Indian, red-dot on the forehead, towel turban wearing smelly horny men, Indian. (Don't go on Ryze if you're a woman and you don't want men Indian men to call you a Goddess. I mean, I KNOW that I am, but they don't need to tell a married woman that.)

On Friday, the family decided to see ICE AGE 2 (Diego RULZ!! Here kitty kitty... I even have a stuffie of him now!) As we were already 'out,' DH decided to 'try something new' and 'broaden our culinary horizons.' Out of town. A highway drive away from home. NOT a good idea for anyone who has suffered IBS symptoms. New food and highway travel are a recipe for disaster.

A new restaurant opened in nearby Swampland, MI. (about a 20 to 30 min drive from home) I'm not one to stray far outside my norm when it comes to eating; not if I want the food to stay where I put it, anyway. It's all about GASTRONOMIC DISTRESS, also known as gastroinestinal pyrotechnics, to put things mildly.

The door opens, and we are met with high pitched pig-squealing bitches belly dancing on a TV screen mounted in the corner. Wonderful start. Thank gawd they have pretty clothes. I'd kill for a figure suitable to wear one of those outfits. Anway, nothing on the menu looked appetizing. Ironically, I have a talented tongue... a real proclivity for pronounciation (what did you think I was gonna say?? gutterminded people... LOL) And even though I could produce a fair imitation of their dialect, my guts couldn't process their damned food.

The pashawar naan was great, a flat bread with fruits and nuts baked in, but that's where the goodness stopped. The entrees were f*cking scary. Well, the rice wasn't, but DAMN the steaming sh*t in those bowls... Ew! I ordered some kind of lamb something... Put it this way, it smelled like an unwashed arab man's armpits and look like it had been forced through one of his orafices. WTF? Chunks of lamb, stewed, aldulterated in some tomatoe something pasty sh*t, with chunks of tomatoe, onion and green peppers. And, that's just what I could identify!

I masitcated as much as I could, which wasn't much at all. My guts kind of clamped, and began to gnarl as I sat. I tried a suck of mango shake. I hate mango. But I was desparate to wash that crap out of my mouth. By the time we left, I felt like I was going to explode, one way or another.

We flew through a Dollar Store to get some Immodium. I grabbed the wrong damn box!! I thought for sure I was going to DIE. I think at one point I wanted to. It was at then that I made my mind work. "Mind over matter," they say. I am very strong minded; some might say that I am damn stubborn... (shuttup, those of you who do) So, I decided to force that misery away. I'm okay... I'm tougher than this... I'm okay.

It worked.

And I learned something. More than never to eat that sh*t again. If I can control those gut wrenching IBS syptoms, I can do anything I put my mind to.

Anything.

UNDER ARREST: the pictoral

2006-04-02T08:50:00.000-04:00

THE OFFICER

THE APPREHENSION

THE USUAL SUSPECT

**Am I bad? Oh, Yes, very, very bad...**

Alex TAGGED me!

2006-04-02T08:24:00.000-04:00

**Lovely, beneficiant Alexandra tagged me the other day and I missed it...**

Four jobs you have had in your life:
1. Cashier
2. Waitress at a meatmarket
3. Bouncer at same said meatmarket
4. Submissions editor for a literary agency

Four movies you could watch endlessly:
1. The Mummy
2. The Mummy Returns
3. Underworld
4. Pirates of the Carribeanan

Four places you have lived:
1. Swamp land, Michigan
2. Scary neighborhood, Michigan
3. Teeny Tiny house, Michigan
4. Here

Four TV shows you love to watch:
1. Amwerica Idol (GO, Chris!!)
2. WWE (sick of McMahon, though)
3. TNA (when I'm awake)
4. UFC (when it's on)

Four places you have been on vacation:
note: I was 'talked to' about my previous answer in my LJ. The amended list is:
1. Camping
2. Sea world, Ohio
3. Camping
4. Milwaukee

Four BLOGS you visit daily:
(there are WAY more, but I'm trying to stick to the rules...somewhat)
1. An Innocent A-Blog (brilliant Bernita)
2. Lady M Writes (love ya!!)
3. The Wry Writer (smooches)
4. Candice Gilmer's World (sister Aphrodite girl!)

Four of your favorite words:
1. Passion
2. Pain
3. tumescent
4. determined

Four places you would rather be right now:
1. In bed with my man
2. Hot shower
3. Coffee pot (addicted, yes, I know)
4. somewhere else

Four people to be tagged:
Not that I am not terribly curious as to what y'all are like, I'm not in a thinking mood, so I'm not tagging anyone today. Run, frolick, live free!

A question...

2006-04-01T11:17:00.000-05:00

Sorry, no snippets today. I have a question to pose...

Why, when we are out-of-sorts (irritable, grumpy, tempestous, cranky, for me, bitchy), do we strike out at those who least deserve it?

And to make this post somewhat writing related, do you ever have your characters behave in a similar manner, give them less-desirable traits? If you're a reader, how do you feel about a character with flaws like that?

We aren't perfect; coloured with everything from temper to regret for such; does literature represent those shades? Does art imitate life??

Transformation scene

2006-03-31T08:58:00.000-05:00

**Sariah is getting bitchy, she hasn't been let out in a while. She's been barking and scratching at the door in the back of my mind. So, instead of sex, or violence, I thought I would allow another side of her out...**

Four city blocks from the corner where she abandoned her recent kills, the bones of her feet, which bore the most weight, began to ache. Then the need to return to human became strong and hurtful. Even after hundreds of years, she could not get accustomed to that particular pain. She began to hurry, and in her haste she sacrificed caution for speed. Discretion was not an option. Thankfully, she was at the seedy end of town, and Sariah was certain that she had terrorized the residents enough that if they saw her, none would call the authorities.

Her entire body hurt now, ribs burning with each heaved breath. Joints began to crack as they collapsed toward human. All four paws struck pavement as she ran and then skidded around a corner at the end of Hudson Street.

Beneath a battered TV repair shop sign was an entrance into an unlit back alley. Ragged edges abraded Sariah's sensitive muzzle as she eased the tip of her snout between the jamb and the unlocked, battered metal door. Blood dripped from uprooted whiskers as she drew in large snoutfuls of air, testing for unwanted interlopers. She did not wish for any witnesses to her transformation. Exhaled snorts sprayed sanguine drops to the rolled dust ridge which rode before the advancing edge of the door.

Stale urine, soured milk in a container in a trash bin, nasty diapers, but other than that she smelled nothing. She was alone.

Sariah drug the rest of her body through the easement and turned to slam the door shut behind her. Fur boiled off from her clawed hands, leaving raw singed skin behind. Her hands screamed in silent pain, the knuckles cracking as the bones of her fingers shrank back to the same delicate digits before transformation.

Yet this was only the beginning.

Transformation flowed in a savage flood from the extremities inward. Tears bled from Sariah's eyes, both from pain and from the restructured leaking of the eye socket as the bones regained her refined woman's features. Hair fell from her hide as the skin grew tender and ligature-tight, strangling her muscles, her ribcage. Her wrists and ankles twisted with vicious torque beneath her body where she crouched. Suffering ran thick through her blood, echoed in hollow refrain through her bones as arm and leg bones shortened and turned, grinding the joints.

By the time her torso began to change, Sariah had been reduced to kneeling, her rib cage cinching tight, her stomach regurgitating the jumbled bones and fibrous ligaments of fingertips; the flesh came out in a clear, jellied mass. Her throat erupted in keening as her pelvic bones snapped loose from her spine – twisted, contorted, pumped agony throughout her body. Shoulder blades, floated free, wrenching as they rode the back of her ribcage into their normal position.

Finally, the pain was over. Sariah's chest heaved, the air no longer tainted with her own blood. Relief trickled in where the pain had begun to ebb. Yet, with each change and return, her pained mind was forced to remember how she became the creature that she was; the animal that had first bitten her and poisoned her blood, her body – and broken her heart.

She was forced to remember Xander Nicolas Waithorn.

Friday comes early..

2006-03-30T10:25:00.002-05:00

**I know I promised the ladies their erotica fix on Friday. Well, I guess this week Friday COMES early...**

Flannel-clad in pajamas, she headed for the bedroom door like every other night. The door eased open; and light flickered in the room. Something was amiss. She wasn't a criminal, but she was alone and in trouble.

And she liked it.

A rustle of pant, a clink of metal – the Officer appeared from behind the door. He was in hot pursuit of her criminal copulatory compunctions. His eyes took her in. He smiled as his heavy hand pushed the door closed behind them. With a wicked smile, he locked it.

"You are under arrest." His voice was husky and low. She liked that, too.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, a tight, insistent grip, and then forced her to turn. Palms met paint as he pushed her to the plaster. "Up against the wall and spread 'em," he ordered.

This was a new game, and she adopted her role of Bad Girl with consummate ease.

Next, her night clothes were stripped from her. He tossed them to the floor. They were useless in his form of interrogation. He had better tool to make her talk. To her surprise, and excitement, he then produced handcuffs. And used them.

Naked, wrists shackled before her, she was at his mercy. His hands were firm, she noticed his personal club to be, as well. The reinforced zipper of his BDU's was strained.

She smiled. He liked that.

He patted her down. Then he felt her up, one hand smacked her ass as the other hand turned gentle on her breast, and teased her nipple. Warm pleasure spilled within to mix with her excitement. She sighed. He then spun her about to face him.

"Do you have any weapons," he asked.

"Only my sharp whit," she quipped.

He roughed her around then. Punishment maybe, but she liked it anyway. He walked her back against the bed and then pushed. She tumbled onto the covers, coquettish and eager.

His pants were coarse against her delicate skin as he pressed his way between her thighs. She reached for him then, yet he caught her by the cuffs, slapped her hands and forced her body back and up the bed. He came in close, stole a kiss from her ready lips as he clicked her cuffs through the headboard. Desire flooded her. He was strict – rigid – she was naughty and about to be disciplined.

He stepped back from the bed, ran one hand the length of her body, while the other worked the BDU's down and off. He returned to his dominant position between her knees, his hands on her flesh and his nightstick at the ready.

Bent on elicitation, he came forward, tip of his intent teasing her mischievous lips. He would make her talk. She was, however, determined to force him to use all his tools.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" He asked as he pressed his point of passionate punishment into her.

She moaned. He withdrew. She whimpered, but he smacked her thigh and repeated his penetrative query. She groaned, her hips rose up to meet his. He smacked her other thigh. Once more the question, "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I plead the Fifth," she moaned. He liked that.

"If you will not talk…" he hinted, and produced a blindfold.

She smiled, only, and then closed her eyes. The blindfold slipped over her head in an inappropriate rush. She heard an unfamiliar noise, a grinding ended with a snap. Then, his lips were upon hers, his tongue pressed sweet nectar in her mouth. His hands once more searched her body. No weapons, but tight nipples and ready flesh.

She sucked the intoxicating liquid from his tongue. He ran his mouth down to her breast, pulling on her taut nipple with his warm tongue as his fingers searched farther, lower, searched her hidden cache of hedonism.

"More…" she whimpered.

"So you will talk," he said. He liked that.

Persecutor became perpetrator, guilty of invasion of her most private property. Her knees held up at his sides, he entered her, making a hasty retreat before plunging deeper in. He pressed her for information, walked the line of good cop/bad cop as he drove his insistence into her.

She writhed and moaned. So, did he.

Hands clutched tight around her thighs, he negotiated her surrender, her passionate release. But then, he withdrew again, to kneel and whisper his own confessions to her ravaged flesh. Tongue in-between her lips, fingers teasing flesh, he gave a full, and lurid confession. Her hips rose, her body shuddered in deliberation of climatic freedom.

Yet, he climbed her body once, more, reinstating her former sentence of climax by copulation. Finally, he beat her into submission and she broke her silence. She pleaded for clemency, he denied, driving her to spill the truth.

"Guilty as charged," she moaned, body imprisoned in orgasmic agony.

PARENTAL PRIDE MOMENT

2006-03-30T05:57:00.000-05:00

Can you see the Chesire Cat grin on my face? Can you hear me purr??

No?

Dammit

Had the kids' conferences yesterday. Other than Kat talks too much (my daughter????), and KG's always in a hurry, well... the teachers might as well have told me I had geniuses. Only one grade less than average, and that is in that particular kid's hardest subject. Otherwise, ALL grades for both children were B or better. For both, words like 'brilliant,' 'excellent,' and 'way above the rest of the class' were used. *grin*

Both received highest marks in, Yup, you guessed it, English. Kat's teacher says, 'your daughter has a very strong author voice and great control of her vocabulary.' {side note: Kat's 10! Teacher said it must be genetic} WOOT, That's my girl!! *purr* KG has some of the highest marks in his class, 'very organized, 'brilliant work.' His teacher said, however, get this!... That he could do better if he applied himself more. Better than an 'A'?? HA Sorry, smart people get bored if you cannot keep their attention... I know from experience. LOL

So, yup, I'm a damn proud Mum right now!

Bad, Blogger! Bad!!

2006-03-29T07:51:00.000-05:00

*growl*

My gorram blog is showing nothing but a big black f*cking screen. SO damn frustrating! I can't even get to the comments from yesterday.

*snarl*

At least, this way, I get more writing done... :) I am working on the rewrites in Nuermar's Last Witch, as well as my short In Pursuit of Prey about Sekhmet, Egyptian Goddess of sexual heat and vengeance. (LOVE that combo!) Plus, she's lionen animorphic, perfect practice for the Were novel that is stewing in my brain, too. Because, as you all know, I have a fetish for the whole fur, claws, fangs thing...

Oh, and I am chewing on another vignette for you all, too. "Under Arrest" Handcuffs, blindfolds, forceful... WOOT!

The Playlist...

2006-03-28T09:28:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the rhythmic background of my mind, otherwise know as 'my playlist.'

Fuel:
The Something Like Human album, my favorites being:

Last time, "This is the last time, now, I'll bleed for you"
Hemorrhage, OMG the entire song!
Prove, "prove to me you're something like human"
Easy, "…bring the pleasure, bring the pain…"
Innocent, "Satan, you know where I lie…"

Trapt:
Headstrong (as if THAT was ever a question…)
Made of Glass "I don't need to hear your answer, I just need to you to see"
Echo

Nickelback:
From the All the Right Reasons album:

Follow You Home (great to growl in someone's ear)
Fight for all the Wrong Reason "…you got off every time you got onto me…"
Next Contestant (what girl doesn't want her guy to feel this way??)
Savin' Me "…I'm on the ledge of the 18th story…"
Far Away (I just plain BAWL)

And also from The Long Road:

Do This Anymore
Figured You Out (it's just plain naughty!)

MADONNA:

Erotica (prerequisite, is it not? LOL)
Human Nature (naughty version)
Music

PUSCIFER:

The Undertaker (HOT, omg, wrote Sensual Bedlam to this one)
Rev 22:20 (Rev 4:20 mix) seductive as slow poison

ROB ZOMBIE:

Boogieman
Living Dead Girl
Dragula
More Human

RICKY MARTIN:
Shocked??

I Am, "I'll tell you when I come, but you'll come before me" (means exactly that)

THREE DAYS GRACE:

Just Like You

OTHER ARTISTS/TUNES:

Chris Daughtry, Walk the Line; LIVE, Forever May Not Be Long Enough; Gerard McMann, Cry Little Sister; Pussy Cat Dolls, Dontcha and Buttons; Van Halen(Hagar), Humans Being; Slip Knot, Vermillion Pt.2; Stained, Outside and Pressure; Stone Temple Pilots, Sex Type Thing; Golgotha Tenement Blues from The Crow soundtrack; HIM, Rip Out the Wings of a Butterfly; Queesryche, most tunes, although I am compulsive about Gonna Get Close to You (dark, stalkerish…); Garbage, No.1 Crush, from Hex soundtrack; NIN, Closer (oh yeah!); Dawn, from Escape From L.A. soundtrack; I Can't Live if Living is Without You, Harry Nilsson (wanna see me cry?? this one will do it)… there's more, but I my eyes are crossing…

A tase of something different...

2006-03-27T09:12:00.000-05:00

**Well, I've given you snippets of traditional M/F in various situations and positions, given you F/F/M on a dance floor and in vampire voyeurism. I think by now y'all know I won't touch M/M with any kind of pole, so... how about some F/F action, heavy with vampiric overtones??

This scene comes from my novel Forever Dark; and it is the point at which my heroine Licia sacrifices her mortality to the vampire Canaan...**

“Please,” I said.

She turned to me then, her shadowed eyes radiated a wicked desire; not just for my blood, but for me. Canaan transformed before my eyes, and as she changed, my body responded in kind. She was a succubus, beautiful and enticing. Her body began to shimmer, a cloud of dark hair floated about her face, prominent, pointed teeth glinted in the moonlight, and her clothes melted away. Her figure was glorious. Supple thighs, narrow waist, and high, pointed breasts. I longed to touch her, to place my lips on her flesh.

“Come,” she beckoned. “Become…”

My body pulsated. I could contain my desire no longer – I reached for her, and a delicate hand grasped mine to pull me from the sand. Canaan enveloped me in a torrid embrace. Her lips pressed against mine, the tip of her tongue tickling mine and her bare breasts rubbing against the front of my gauze shift. Her nipples were hard and as they rubbed against mine, they tightened too. Tingles crawled across my flesh; waves of desire’s heat flooded my frame as the sensitive parts of my body burned for her touch.

Canaan heard my unspoken desire and loosened my belt, letting it fall to the sand. She slipped her hand beneath my shift, her fingernails grazing the skin of my thigh as she reached farther up. She cupped my breast in her hand, her thumb gently rubbing in circles over the tightened, sensitive flesh of my nipple. I moaned my pleasure into her open mouth, and Canaan drank it in. She nipped the inner flesh of my lip, and then licked the blood onto both of our tongues. She let her mouth slip from mine, and began to nip and nuzzle my neck, as her hands pulled my shift up over my hips and then off of my body.

She pressed against me urgently, directing me to lie back against the bank of the Nile. The sand against my skin was cool, but Canaan’s lips and hands were hot – the two temperatures fueled the sensations surging through me. I put my hands on the sides of her head, lifting it from where she suckled and licked the skin of my neck. Her lips were brilliant red with my blood, but I didn’t care; I desired her touch, her bite, her blood. I directed her mouth to my breast, and as she sucked my nipple, I took her wrist to my mouth. I licked her flesh, and nipped the sensitive skin, yet did not break the surface.

In her untamed passion, she pressed her body against mine, grinding her hips and occasionally purring like Bastet, or groaning in pleasure. Her groans turned to cries of delight as my hand found the warm, red flesh between her thighs and I bit down into her wrist. Canaan’s body twitched with the sudden sensation, then she pulled away from my breast, her eyes wild with passion and her face painted with my blood. She smiled, licked her lips, and then put her hands between my thighs. I trembled only a moment, and then she pressed my thighs apart.

With a fluid motion, Canaan turned her body so that her face was between my thighs; as I arched my back her wrist, which I had pierced with my own teeth, was against my mouth. As I licked the bitter blood that dripped from her wrist, she began to lick my hot, throbbing flesh. Each contact of her tongue pushed my body closer to the ultimate pleasure I desired, and the ultimate change of my existence. As climatic waves flooded my body with pleasure, Canaan replaced her tongue with her free fingers as she buried her face in the soft flesh at the top of my thigh.

The motion of her fingers continued the waves of pleasure flooding my body, even as the succubus drained me. Her teeth, like physician’s blades, sunk into my leg, slicing the major vessel, allowing my life force to flow into her body, and to spill down the bank to run in red ribbons down the Nile.

When I knew that death was coming for me, I bit as deeply into her wrist as I could, and sucked her potent poison in. She tried to pull away, yet my teeth sank in farther, taking some of her flesh and blood vessels into my own gullet as she finally wrenched free.
Canaan stood. She looked at her injured wrist, and watched as the gaping hole slowly healed. Vessels first, then meat, and then finally skin. She touched the regenerated flesh and then smiled at me. It was the most wicked grin I had ever witnessed.

I tried to rise, but was unable. Instead, I lay motionless on the sandy riverbank. She reached down, caressing my cheek before she took up my shift and clothed herself, wrapping my gold belt around her waist. As my field of vision faded, she leaned closer to me and spoke.

“You will die – yet you will live forever. I will always remember your passion.”

Music is back!

2006-03-26T22:25:00.000-05:00

Ever been through rhythm withdrawal?? Ain't pretty -- trust me on this. Worse than going cold turkey off caffeine... Headaches and the whole nine yards. I have been so damn ugly since my MP3 player died that I think there were acutally times that I scared myself - walked around the house turning mirrors to face the wall because I didn't want to see the ornery bitch looking back at me.

Well, I am pleased to announce, thanks to a combined anniversary/Easter gift from DH, the music is back! I can allow my rhythmic obsession free reign again! Oh, thank gawd for music. I want to wallow in it, revel in it, naughty in it... Is naughty a verb?? Maybe not. Maybe so. Maybe it's just my mind in it's euphoric utopia.

But, I digress.

Thank you, Muff.

Words given voice...

2006-03-24T17:35:00.000-05:00

Perhaps this is a generalization, but to me, we all have something that piques our interests, fuels our imagination, feeds the flames of the bale fires of our muses... For me, if my words were given voice, especially The Venue (see Band Night) then this would be it:

Chris Daughtry sings Walk the Line

Many thanks to HS Kinn for the linkage!!

Towel Time

2006-03-24T08:04:00.000-05:00

**You want a warning, then this is it. Lady M talks of her towel. Alexandra speaks of shower tokens. Bernita says steamy... Even newcomer Karl (don't know the link) mentioned needing a shower... So for all of you needing of a cleansing...**

This is a scene from the sequel to Forever Dark, and has my vampire H/H in a 'heated, steamy' moment...

I reached up to kiss him and then bit his lip.

"Don't bleed on my rug," I warned him, and then winked.

Josiah couldn't help but smile again – his eyes sparkled, even. He enjoyed my brand of punishment. The full curve of his lip had been split by my fang and a ruby droplet beaded up and threatened to plummet to the absorbent wool beneath his feet. I raised an eyebrow, reached out a finger to stop the sanguinary globule from staining my rug, but Josiah licked his split lip and then stepped quickly into the cavernous shower.

I dropped my own sheet to the floor and then kicked the discarded linens into the laundry shoot and out of sight. The towel warmer hummed to life as I dropped two plush bath sheets over the rod and then joined my lover.

Water soon coursed through the artificial falls and cascaded in a fine, heavy spray. Josiah stepped back so that I could immerse myself in the surging mists. The hot water streamed between my breasts and down my abdomen; instinctively I reached for my shelf of oils and hand-crafted soaps. Josiah stopped me, guiding my hand off to the side, to the bright brass bar that lined the shower walls.

He took up a natural sea sponge, and then smelled soap after soap, searching for just the right scent. Then, I watched his eyes close as he inhaled deeply of a soaponified oil of lotus blossom. Scent is the strongest sense tied to memory, and I could tell by Josiah's body posture, and obvious arousal, that the scent reminded him of our many intense sexual encounters. When his eyes opened again, they simply smoldered, his hunger for me flaring behind his dark irises. The new smile that graced his face was slow and wicked, tantalizing. My heart fluttered and refused to pick up a steady rhythm.

Josiah squeezed the sponge until it produced rich, aromatic foam. Then, he caressed the lather over my body as an artist used gesso to prepare a canvas before painting a masterpiece upon its surface.

He dropped the sponge into a mesh basket in the corner, and then pressed my back against the cool, stone wall. Chills crept across my flesh, and were only intensified by Josiah's heated embrace as he pressed his lips against mine. Our tongues met, tangled then parted as Josiah moved to nuzzle my earlobe with a bit of fang. A warm, delicious tingle blossomed from my ear and flowed down my neck and shoulders. My lover intensified the pleasure as he then kissed my neck, biting enough to break the skin surface, and redouble the stinging bliss that rode through my body.

I trembled. I fell weak and nearly collapsed in tremored bliss, so Josiah took my hands above my head, directed me to grasp the brass piping above to steady myself.

Driven by desire, Josiah pressed in closer, his breath my breath, his consummate skill my sweet agony. His hands worked the lather into textured patterns of ancient hieroglyphs before he wiped it away from my breasts. He bent down and suckled my nipple in a vampire's kiss, teeth exposed, until blood trickled from the corner of his mouth to mingle among the lotus bubbles fading from my flesh. I moaned; my body lax, my arms the only things that kept me upright.

Josiah pinched the tender tip of my nipple between his tongue and his top row of fangs as his hands moved down my stomach until they reached my thighs. There, his knees bent down and my eyes rose to Heaven.

My body still trembled, ached with anticipation. My mouth still watered. A victim of my wanton hunger, I was scarcely aware that Josiah lifted my knee and placed my foot upon his raised thigh. I wanted him within me. Yet, my lover did not give ecstasy so easily away; he liked to make me wait, he liked to prolong my desires before he satiated my flesh. A moan escaped my lips and I shuddered at his touch – even after so many years, he still thrilled me.

His hands worked in hedonic tones, teased my tingling flesh and colored me in sensual bliss. Then, Josiah released his nettled grip on my nipple and moved his mouth down my body. He slipped beneath my raised thigh and his lips, which I loved, loved my hidden ones in return. I twitched as rapture ran wild within me, and nearly convulsed as his tongue danced on my decadent soul.

I was so close to climax that I could taste it heavy on my tongue. Then, Josiah rose up, rode along the curves of my body as he kissed and nipped and left a bloody trail to my neck. He reared back, his mouth open, fangs exposed, as he entered my eager opening and sank his fangs into my throat as well.

Passion flowed within, pain without. The two sensations rose and swirled with in me – a dangerous and heady concoction. In a throe of ecstasy, I collapsed against my lover and Josiah supported my weight as I moaned and writhed against him. My only thought was him; my only awareness was erotic bliss as I reveled in his every tumescent inch. Then, somehow, even as he held me, he managed to slip a hand beneath me to further tantalize the already throbbing flesh, and he rocked his hips in that stilted rhythm that he knew would take me to orgasm.

My breath came and went in a heavy pant, my voice nothing more than a moaning groan. I clung to Josiah, eyes rolling as I clawed his back until red welts rose to smart under the hot water. His beautiful face twinged as he winced, yet he enjoyed the pain. He pressed me hard against the wall for leverage and then, in blinding bliss, Josiah brought me to an orgasm the likes of which I had never experienced.

Josiah slumped against the wall, and slid down onto his rear with me still straddled over his pelvis. I rested against his chest as latent pleasure pulsed through me. The water continued to fall, warm and comforting, as my lover took up the forgotten soaped sponge, and gently swept the away the bloodied bubbles which still coated me. Then, Josiah squeezed the remainder of the natural cleanser into my hair and massaged my scalp as he washed my hair, as well.

Josiah lifted me as he rose, my head against his shoulder, my body limp as a kitten in his arms. I reached out and turned off the water, and then he carried me to the plush rug beside the towel warmer.

LIFE IN THE SINK

2006-03-22T08:02:00.000-05:00

**this is an OLD one; not sure why I'm posting it, other than it insisted...**

A blade on my wrist-
The smile was in your eyes.
Pressing down- steel on skin.
The corners of your grin
Twisted evilly.
Your grip was too tight-
I lost mine…

Sinew and steel

Want to get away,
want to get you out
Of my life.
Blade in my wrist.
You won’t leave,
So I’ll end it, and
Be free of your grasp.

Steel in veins

The water in the sink is bloody,
And I’m shaking- but I
Won’t stop. I’m going
To teach you a lesson.
You’ll never hold me again.

Life in the sink

Weak, I’m so weak.
Can barely stand up,
But, watching my hate-colored
Blood flowing slowly
Gave me courage.

Me on the floor

You kneel by me,
Afraid to touch the sodden,
Bloodless form that was
Your clutching post.

Catty continuation: Sariah's true mate

2006-03-21T08:15:00.000-05:00

**this is a continuation from yesterday's post... And perhaps a better expension of their energies...**

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his bloodied neck. He emitted that peculiar pained purr as the pressure cinched his injured flesh. Yet, he did not recoil. He allowed her to embrace him, to touch him, to kiss his face. Her hands ran the length of his sleek, lean muscled body, slipping quickly over the wounds which she had caused. She rubbed her face, her chest against him in a most feline manner. His tender grin exposed sharp white canines to the moonlight. She curled her fingers in his hide as she rubbed against him.

He pressed her back unto the ground, big cat paws upon her shoulders as his hind legs straddled her hips. He crouched over her, purring constantly. "Stuart," she whispered one last time, and then Sariah closed her eyes. He bent down, his face close enough that the short whiskers of his muzzle brushed her eye lashes. He inhaled deeply, expelling warm breath; then his lips parted, and he bathed the blood from her face with his wide, wet tongue.

She sighed, and reached from him. He refused, and instead pushed her back down. He took hold of her arm, nipped the skin of her wrist, and then ran his tongue the length of her forearm. She shuddered at the tingling mix of his rough tongue and the suppressed passion which it ignited within her.

He came close to her again; he rubbed his thick muzzle against her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. He sniffed in her sanguinary scent, his jaws open to allow sensitive scent glands the full experience as his eyes rolled and desire took him. The tip of his tongue slipped between that slit in his muzzle, between his sharp eye teeth. Stuart took this tip, and cleaned Sariah's body of the evidence of their confrontation. His flared nostrils bathed her in his steamy breath, his tongue painted her in tones of feline hunger. His mouth hovered over one breast, the nipple pinched between his teeth, while one paw took to the other breast, her nipple between the velvet toe pads as he teased her tight flesh. An involuntary groan escaped her.

His purr intensified into a rumble within. He pressed his body down upon her, and that rumble penetrated to flood her. Stuart placed one back foot between Sariah's legs, and then the other as he slowly spread her thighs. Front paws to either side of her upper body, Stuart moved his mouth down her abdomen, licking the valleys, nipping the curves. Sariah twitched and moaned. Then, he reached folds of her hidden flesh. Her knees came up, and spread as he eased his shoulders down.

Both paws ran the length of her quaking thighs, claws lightly scratching and exciting her skin before they turned and parted the tingling folds of her sensual flesh. Stuart once more pressed his curled tongue within her, conversing with the core of her desires. As he licked deep within, the heat from his muzzle sensitized the outer flesh, and a toe pad danced upon her passionate point.

Sariah writhed and moaned. Her hips rose and fell of their own volition. Her fingers clutched at his shaggy mane. She curled those digits, and pulled his face from between her thighs. She looked deep into his eyes, hers burning with heathen desire. A wicked grin curled his short muzzle, his tail twitching, as he lowered his body between her legs and slid forward.

The tip of his shaft teased the lips of her eager opening. With a rock of the hips, he entered her. She moaned, her fingernails clawing at him, trying to pull him deeper in. He refused her once more, tipping his hips so that his rigid member rode nearly all the way out. There, the tip throbbing within, the length of the staff without, she reached down, wrapped the fingers of one had around the slick base of his shaft, the fingers of the other opened herself farther as she guided him back into her, and then out, and then yet deeper in.

Her head rocked back. Her chest heaved as pleasure pulsed through her, driven by his feline grace and her hands. He purred, a heavy, panting sound as he allowed her dominance over his most masculine motion.

She guided them toward orgasm. Sensing that sweet release within her, Stuart curled his body so that his mouth was once more upon her breast, teeth around the tip, tongue dancing on the nipple. She groaned; her hands fell away. He took control, driving in that stilted rhythm he remembered and Sariah began to pant, to whimper, to beg. "Please," she beseeched. He obliged, riding that shaft deep within, with a quick slide back out, even as his tongue pulled and his toes slipped back between her folds to tease farther. He even curled his tail so that it tickled her ass as his hips rocked between her legs.

Her hands clenched over his shoulders as her body convulsed in a long and nearly painful orgasm. At first she couldn't breathe for the moans escaping her, but then she panted and cried his name again and again.

The multiple-orgasm pulsed within her, tightening the muscles around his tumescent shaft, and rubbing at him until he came as well, toes curled, tail erect as he growl-groaned in feline fantasy.

Cat fight!

2006-03-19T22:28:00.000-05:00

Hackles bristled. A ridge of tawny hair stood from the back of her head down the length of her spine to spread over her ass and down her tail. Claws dug into the ground as she clenched her paws into were-fists. Drool dripped from her muzzle. Nostrils flared and her sinuses were afire with that predator's scent – his scent. A low, savage growl rolled like thunder through her body. Her eyes narrowed to slits, yet her pupils dilated.

Sariah was set to kill.

Yards away, in a wide beam of milky moonlight, she saw him. Not a human, not running upon two feet, but sleek and golden, round ears pinned to his skull and long tail held out for balance as he ran.

A Were-Cat! Sariah's mind reeled, yet her predator instincts flared and she launched from her crouched position.

Kill! Haunches pumped. Kill! Paws pounded the ground. Kill! Claws dug turf.

Foamy spittle flew from her jaws. Huge snorts of air filled her lungs. Short grunts escaped her throat with each pulse of her hind legs as she hurtled toward the one whom had irritated her for so long. Kill! Her bloodlust called. She closed the distance between her and her hunter; now her hunted. His rudder-like feline tail tickled her nose. She snapped her teeth, but missed. One last thrust of body weight, one last lunge and she sank her canine fangs deep into the werecat's tail.

He yowled in pain. She braced her hind legs, snapped her head back and to the side as she made her heavy werewolf body an anchor. She dragged the cat to a halt.

He rolled, and turned in the midst of the curl to rocket from the ground and slam into Sariah's body. His sickle-like claws extended, they pierced into her hide. She returned his yowl. But then turned her head, her muzzle curled in a heinous howl of rage. She struck out with a heavy paw and cuffed him upside the head. He spat and snarled, he roared in rage as she followed the paw strike with a lunge of jaws. Once more she bit into him, this time sinking her jagged teeth into the thick skin beneath his mane, above the lower vertebrae of his neck. She shook her head viciously even as she pushed back and to the side with her legs.

The cat came down. Sariah kicked at him, managing to snag his underbelly with her dew claw before she pinned his body between her muscled hind legs. She smacked at his head, again, her right fore leg slipping in the blood on his neck and then over his shoulder blade. The werecat turned under her cage of canine legs, gathered his limbs beneath himself as he tried to buck and dislodge her. Dark laughter burbled in the blood in her mouth as she took the scruff of his neck in her teeth and rode the big cat's body like a canid harpy from hell.

"Here, Kitty Kitty," she growled over his bloodied flesh in her maw.

The cat ceased to struggle. He collapsed beneath her.

"Sariah?" He mewed.

That voice hit Sariah with a physical forced. She released the fold of his neck, his blood mingled with the foam on her muzzle. Her eyes were wide in shock.

"Stuart?"

The tears which bled from his eyes were answer enough. The love of her life, the werecat whose blood tainted Xander's dominance over her, and the one she thought long slain, lay beneath her. Her heart ached with such a sudden and severe pain that she could not longer hold her canid form. The werewolf body trickled from her. Her ears shrank, her muzzle shortened as the fur fell away to reveal echoed tears upon her own face. One last howl of pain tore at the night, and then Sariah was human and naked beside him once more.

She reached a bloodied hand out to touch his short muzzled snout. "Oh, Stuart… How could this be? Xander killed you…"

"Nay," he grunted in pain. "He tried. My body was dead, it's true; but my heart would not die, not with our love burning there." A muddied paw tapped his chest, above his heart, and then reached for her. Pink hands came up, and caught that paw, turning it so that she might stroke her cheek against it.

Tears fell unchecked from Sariah's amber eyes; they washed the blood from his foot. Her lip trembled. "Stuart…" She whimpered again and again.

"Shhh," he tried to calm her, but the sound was little more than a feline hiss. "Sariah, stop; tears are not necessary. I am here…"

TNA

2006-03-18T07:03:00.000-05:00

My girlfriend Abby and I went to a TNA wrestling event last night. Longass car ride, and traffic on this side of the state is just damn scary. Even though we had great road tunes (thanks to my LJ firend codequeen), I was a bundle of nerves until we hit the arena parking lot.

That's when the fun began. We traipsed passed a line of people, and OMFG my first thought was, "Damn they sure grow 'em pretty around here!" Now, I'm not vain, by any means, but DAMN Patchy dyed hair, guys with chin pubes down to the their chest, unkempt hair all around and chicks who look like they got beat with an ugly stick and then dropped out a fucking tree to land on their faces, kids with clothes that looked weekes worth of unclean. That would explain the looks my girlfriend and I kept getting from the waiter at the sports bar. Colin, the waiter was particularly friendly, even served us beers without carding us. I hhaaaadd to drink it then, even though I don't usually consume beer in public, especially with mails of road to go to get home. *"ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?" I due, after beer*

But, I digress…

The show fuckin rocked! Never mind the acute lack of intelligence that surrounded us… There is SO much more action, so many more high risk maneuvers. WOW Flying outside the ring, rocketing from the ropes, slamming against the barricades, tables and chairs.

Matches watched were: SharkBoy and Simon Diamond, Sabin versus somebody somewhat local; Rhyno and A1 from Team Canada; Team Canada vs. Insane Clown Posse; AJ Styles and Samoa Joe (in the arena known as Sloppy Joe); Abyss and Sabu (Sabu smashed Abyss' head between a table and a chair and his ass); Christian and JJ, and tag team match up between The Naturals and America's Most Wanted. SharkBoy won, Sabin won, Rhyno won (GORE GORE GORE), ICP won, Samoa won (SUCKED), AMW won, Christian won.

Now, on to the fun stuff… First, the chanting in the arnea. LMFAO They were chanting BROKE BACK MOUN-TAIN during the tagteam match. Somehow, peoples was tossed and flipped and crotch-faced against each other. I laughed so hard I could've cried. Also chants of "This is awesome," and "Holy shit." The guys behind us were most proficient with "holy shit" and anything that had 'f*ck' in it. I really began to wonder about local in-breeding then. Esecially after I turned around. SCARY

Also… WE MET WRESTLERS! After the show, Abby and I went to Bennigan's for something substantial to eat, never mind the fact it was 11 f*ckin 30pm While we were consuming our entrees, in wallks Christian Cage and DumbAss Canadian somebody D'Amore. Well, I couldn't stand it. Someone I've watched for years, right there in the same restaurant?? HELLO I got up and walked over, tapped him and told him, "Great show tonight." He got all smiles and said, "Thank you, thank you very much." I left it at that.

I walked back to my soup and tea. Not much later, AJ Styles walks in, too. He's Abby's favorite. She's all like "OMG..." I told her, "if I can go talk to Christian, the least you can do is go get a closer look." She got up, walked over close and came back with that OMFG look on her face. I threatened to bite her if she didn't go get his autograph. She got a pen from our waiter and went back over. I figured, 'if Abby can get one, so can I.' I walked over, and Abby and I talked to AJ and his dining buddy for a good 5 to 10 minutes. AJ was AWESOME, a real down to earth guy, nice and friendly and very happy to give his autograph.

Abby and I went back to our table when our waiter embarrassed us by bringing our dessert over to us where we were talking with AJ. *I could have died when he brought this big ass bowl of ice cream* I sat there, AJ's auto in my writing journal, and thought, 'dammit I am gonna get Christian's, too.' I sauntered back that way, asked politely, and he gave me his, too. Two autographs in one night!! while, AJ was cool to talk to, Christian was rather meek, and seemed a little hurt that AJ was there, and not with him. That and, the fact that I had AJ's autograph first. Oh well... Not like I have a snowballs chance in hell of seeing him again anyway.

By the time we got back to the room, it was damn near 2am. I don't think I slept more than three hours total between the general excitment and Abby's snoring. I love ya, Abby, but DAMN...

For Lady M...

2006-03-17T09:51:00.000-05:00

DRACONIC DECADENCE for Lady M

The air was thin where she climbed. But she didn't care. He was her goal and she would sacrifice breath for his fiery passion. Beneath her foot, the precipice crumbled, and she plummeted from the cliff's face toward the sharp rocks below.

Bitter wind bit her flesh. Her eyes teared. A scream ripped from her throat.

But then, there he was, dragon wings spread wide and he rode the air current beneath her, claws outstretched, talons glinting in the sun. He reached for her. The tips of his claws cut through the fabric of her cloak, yet his hot leathered foot grasped her tight. The cloak fluttered impotently to the ground. Yet, where he took her, there was no need for clothing.

There was a need for nothing more than the forbidden desire which blazed between them.

He curled his foot up tight to his underbelly, shielding her from the wind, exposing her to his reptilian body in its mythic glory. She pressed a cheek to his sleek scaled hide. His heart thundered within his hurtling body, drumming an echo within her own. She could smell his heat, smell his ardor; taste it heavy on the musky air between them.

She inhaled deep the dizzied in the mix of flight, fear and fascination.

His lair lay beneath a shale escarpment. He tucked his large wings tight as he landed, and then deposited her gently to the floor. She lay where he placed her, not wanting to move from his magnificent presence.

He pierced her with his searing gaze. She sighed, arms open in an unspoken beckon.

He came forward, angular head above her body, his jaws snapping away clothing to leave her naked beneath him. His torrid heat radiated, pulsed along her flesh, penetrated to warm her eager body. Her nipples tightened pleasurably. His tongue was upon her, licking, teasing, tempting over her breasts and between her thighs.

He nearly purred. She liked that.

He wrapped his tail around her leg, and pulled gently, opening the path for his decent into decadence. With his body curled above her, he wrapped a breast in his long, forked tongue, bathing her body in his sultry breath. One claw titillated the other nipple. Her eyes rolled closed, her lips parted in a moan.

"Please," she panted. That was all.

In response to her petition, he slid his turgid shaft up her thighs to press against her pursed, begging lips. He shuddered, emitted another purring rumbling as his claw clutched at her body. Her hips rose to meet him, engulfing him in her damp desires. He shuddered once more, and flared his wings open in draconic ecstasy.

Such a passioned pace he rode within her. Her thighs trembled, her breath caught in her throat. Once more, dragon tongue across her nipples. She groaned as her body succumbed to his bestial pleasures, reveled in his sharp teeth and blazing breath. He arched his back, driving deep into her, one claw braced against the floor as his wings flapped the scent of their passion to the hillsides.

A backdraft of blazoned bliss washed through her. Breath came and went in musked moans, as she slid a hand down her own body, to tease that point which his claw did not. He responded by crouching there, claws beneath her knees, he lifted her ass, pressed their pleasure closer to him and deeper in her. Her hand fell. His dexterous tail took its place.

She groaned. So, did he.

His claws clenched atop a boulder, showering her in sparks which bounced from his dragon hide. She was so close to orgasm -- one more touch of his tail, one more sliding ride within her. He heard her unspoken need, and responded, giving them both to heathen heaven. His ultimate pleasure erupted in a roar of scorching flame even as she loosed an orgasmic wail.

"Virgin sacrifice no more," he mocked.

PUBLISHING NEWS

2006-03-10T08:11:00.000-05:00

Well, some of you may know that I had my pub date moved back with Samhain. It's now in December. Maybe not the best tactical move, as far as release date for this year, but I sure the hell didn't want anything getting put out that was less than my best. My editor and publisher jumped at the chance to get their claws into a piece of work with my current voice, so they gave me the time. (Forces one to wonder, am I really that good now, or was it that bad?? But, it wasn't that bad, or they wouldn't have bought it...)

However, this puts me in damn good standing to get an early print release next year, as SP is currently working with Lightning Source to get the books to print. And Since BORDERS just bought up 700 copies of SP's newest releases looks like my novel will actually, OMFG, be on bookstore shelves next spring!!!!

I know you cannot see it, but I am happy dancing here.

But, of course, y'all know by know that I like dancing... :)

Bitchy

2006-03-07T22:13:00.000-05:00

**WARNING: if you don't like dark, ick, gore, blood, or viciousness, you might want to walk away now. This is not my normal erotica.**

The street was dark. But, it didn't matter, Sariah's night vision was exemplary. He hadn't a chance in hell, and that was exactly what she brought him. He deserved it after such treatment. Snout to the ground she tracked him into that alley; dank, dirty, yet his scent fouled everything.

Her claws scraped the ground as she stalked toward where he cowered. Her muscles tensed beneath her tawny hide, her muzzle curled in a silent snarl as she drew in snoutfuls of his fear. She growled, low and long, and then tipped her nose to the moon and loosed a raged howl.

He trembled so that his shoulders rattled the boxes beneath which he hid. She crouched, a yard away, and then lunged. He fled, running toward the blocked dead end with Sariah snapping at his scurrying flesh.

"Here, Boy," she mocked between pointed predator fangs.

He jumped up, trying to climb the short wall between him and an unanswered prayer for freedom. She circled in agitation beneath his kicking feet, paced with vengeance in each set and swipe of paw. The wall gave no purchase beneath his scrabbling fingers; flesh left behind in the pitted brick surface. She laughed, a sick barking sound in the lonesome dark.

"Oh, now," she teased, "don't hurt yourself – that's my job..."

He crashed down onto his ass. Her hind legs bunched, Sariah launched herself at her prey. She slammed into his chest with a crash of bone and brick. Claws pierced between ribs, punctured a lung, as his skull rocked back to leave a bloody smear, bits of scalp showing through on the wall behind his head. His hands flew up to protect his face, yet they were scant defense against her Were frenzy. She smacked his forearm hard enough to break the ulna and his nose with the secondary contact. Blood gushed from his flattened face as he yowled in pain.

His flimsy human legs flopped and kicked beneath, and between, her heavily muscled hind legs. A knee even came up and crashed her rib cage. Sariah let out a short yelp. The fury she felt before was nothing in comparison to the blind rage she succumbed to. She sank her long fangs into his throat, encompassing the greater part of his neck with her jagged jaws. Paws braced on the ground and the wall behind him, she shook him savagely, growling as she did until the fight left him to the chorus of cracking, crunching vertebrae. He slumped against the wall, a sloppy sack of skin and tissue.

Sariah ripped out his throat and spat the meat into his face. She buried her muzzle in his guts, eviscerated him even as her flaying claws sliced flesh from his still limbs. Then, as final insult Sariah bit into his foot, dragged the carcass down flat on the ground, and desecrated the corpse. She squatted over his gaping abdomen, and pissed strong musky urine.

She kicked dirt into his raw wounds.

"Fuck you," she growled.

Occular Cacophony

2006-03-04T18:44:00.000-05:00

The circus with my 10-year old daughter. Should be fun, right? HELL NO! Don't get me wrong. Spending time with Kat is cool, she's a unique individual... But OMG Kids, parents, smells, sounds, jostling, lights, sounds, wires, sounds... Funny, because I LOVE a rock concert live, but I hate the noises at a circus.

Slow death of consciousness.

Half way through the first part, my teeth are on edge. Lobes are throbbing. Eyes accosted by four strobe lights on the floor, two disco balls on the ceiling, myriad lite-up wand souve-f*ckin-neirs waving every where. Loud, cheeztastic music and acrobatics. Shoot me now. There are only so many sinous supple bodies one wants to see in choreographed contortions. Even for an erotic writer! I mean -- Okay, so you can put your ass on your head, that's talent. But, do we need to see three women side-by-side-by-side with their asses on their heads?? NO While we're at it, add a ring of skinny bitches squiggling in hoola hoops whilst more skinny bitches swing from their necks two stories up. At each end! Oy. Bullet in the brainpan. Squish.

Then we can traipse the smelly, trained equines, camels and pachyderms through the rings. Let's all watch them dance beneath a whip, jump through rings aflame. A kid behind us squeals, "Ew, he's pooping!" Wonderful aroma after that! Add singed sinuses to the headache and eye trauma.

But, we're not done! Flipping, flopping, tights wearing foreigners. Yay.

Oo! How about dudes on dirt bikers expelling noxious fumes into a closed environment?! Yippee-f*cking-skippe.

Best part, aside from learning Kat was as bored as me?? I got to see skinny bitches swing from their necks two stories up. They didn't fall. Dammit.

Rise to the challenge

2006-02-24T00:03:00.000-05:00

*To clear up previous confusion: I created my vampires to be like Bram Stoker's in that they can take on the form of the beast as well. As the heroine's major deity is Anubis, she prefers her canid form... And, I rewrote this scene because of Tsavo, and HS. I hope I was able to rise to the challenge...*

The wounded guard collapsed to the sands, his arm devoid of flesh below the elbow and bleeding heavily. The very sight of him taking air while my lover lay dead enraged me. Kahlili deserved death, and I would bring it to him. I took on my jackal form and pound the sands beneath my paws. I caught him up, my feet alighting in sand gone black and bloody with his sanguine sluice.

He screamed once as I pinned his legs beneath my paws. Then I melted toward human, my canid form falling away as I stood above his outstretched limbs. A shriek, a slap, and then silence. I dug the fingernails of my left hand into his scalp. He struggled. His lips poured out apologies, but I would not hear them. The fingers of my right hand encircled his throat, crushing his airway and stopping his blather. Through pointed predator teeth I snarled, "Nefertaten made with much less noise. Die with some dignity."

Recognition widened his eyes. "Yes," I mocked, "I took her life. I dumped her corpse in the hall…"

His pain was not enough. I lunged in and buried my fangs deep into his throat. His skin gagged me as I bit down, rent muscle and severed vessels. I wrenched free a chunk of his flesh, and spat it out into my palm. Kahlili's eyes rolled, but I refused him unconscious respite. I smacked him with the his own meat, forced him open his eyes and focus on me, his deliverer of death.

He sat mute and unmoving.

I released his scalp, and drove my hands into his chest, and up under his ribcage. Kahlili's body convulsed beneath me and I ripped his heart free of his body. "For Djosiah," I snarled, and drove the dripping sack into his mouth. Blood trickled like drool as his jaw fell and his body failed.

I left Kahlili's body there for the jackals. It was a better end than he deserved.

I took on the form of my canine desert companions, and raced across the sands. Rage spurned me to greater speeds, and on the edge of town I overtook the second guard. I dispatched him in much the same manner as his murderous cohort. Three bodies fed the sands of Egypt this night, two of them my prey and I was still on the hunt. I loosed a yowl of vengeance and dropped my nose to the sands as I tracked my half-brother's scent.

The miserable man fled straight to the palace, where I found his stalllion untethered. He was gone and the beast blocked my path. I circled the cantankerous animal. The horse whistled, and kicked at me. I launched from the sands, took the exhausted animal down. Fangs buried deep in it's neck, I eviscerated it with my back legs.

Once more, joints cracked as they turned, and skin tingled as my pelt melted away. For the briefest moment, I resembled Anubis, human body with a jackal's head. Complete, yet not quite whole, I sidestepped the horse's steaming entrails as I used its mane to wipe the blood from my face.

Stupid beast, I thought, I never did like you...

Mean minded...

2006-02-23T13:41:00.000-05:00

*This is a murderous scene, lifted just after the death of the heroine's betrothed. It was written a couple of years ago, not quite the same voice in which I currently write, but it can't all be pretty...*

Left to run on foot, Djedefre's guard Khalili had not gotten very far away. He had collapsed to cradle his wounded arm, and the sight of him sitting on the edge of the plateau enraged me. He deserved death, and I would bring it to him. Abandoning Djosiah's body, I rose above the sands, a black zephyr of rage, and flew at him like a bird of prey.

He shrieked once as I swooped out of the sky and alighted on his quaking thighs. He fell to pleading and apologizing, but I would hear none of it. I dug my nails into his scalp, so that he could not look away. In a flash, my free hand was around his throat, my fangs out as I growled at him, "Nefertaten made much less noise. Die with a little dignity."

I allowed the knowledge that I had killed his consort to settle on him, and then I sank my fangs so deeply into his neck that his skin was against the roof of my mouth. He yelped in fright as I bit down, severed vessels and rent muscle. I tore out the chunk of flesh and spat it into my palm. Khalili's eyes rolled back into his head but I slapped him, forced his eyes open and made him focus on the mound of meat in my hand.

He looked at me in horror, and I watched his mouth form my name in silence. "That's right," I said, "Ntelicia…" He sat numb and unmoving beneath my feet, until I released my grip on his scalp and drove my fingers into his chest cavity, underneath his ribcage. His body convulsed in pain as I wrenched his heart free. "For Djosiah," I snarled, and then forced the dripping sack into his mouth. His bottom jaw fell open, and blood trickled like drool from his mouth before he slipped into unconsciousness and died.

The guard's blood was sour, spoiled by Djedefre's rule. I refused to drink it, but instead watched as it spurted through the gap I had made with my hand. The blood trickled to a stop, and I let Khalili's body slump to the desert sand, where I left him to the jackals. It was a better end then he deserved.

Swift as the wind on jackal paws I raced for the palace. Rage spurned me on to greater speeds, and near the outskirts of town, I overtook the second guard. I dispatched him in much the same manner as I had Khalili. Three bodies fed the sands of Egypt this night, two of them my prey and I was still on the hunt. With my head titled back I loosed a yowl of vengeance and then dropped my nose to the sands and picked up my half-brother's scent.

Djedefre's trail led straight to the palace gates, where he abandoned his stallion. I had missed him! The horse whistled shrilly, and kicked at me as I circled it; I growled and the hackles on the back of my neck rose. In my rage, I leapt upon the cantankerous beast: I rent open its neck and sent it down onto its side. I sank my fangs into its throat, and eviscerated the horse with my back legs.

I stood then, and stretched my body back to that of my human form. Joints cracked as they turned, and skin tingled as the pelt melted away. For the briefest moment, I resembled Anubis, human body with a jackal's head, but then my return to humanity was complete. I shook off the horse's blood, using it's mane to wipe my face clean. Stupid beast, I thought, I never did like you. I kicked sand up at it and then ran through the doors.

MY FIRST INTERVIEW!!!

2006-02-21T14:50:00.000-05:00

Aphrodite's Apples Presents...Savannah Jordan!

Q: Tell us a bit about yourself. What made you want to start writing?

SJ: Writing, for me, was an undeniable physical force. If I didn't start to write, I think I would have gone crazy! In more applicable terms, though, I started writing poetry in High School, began experimenting with prose in 1999, but didn't really start writing the erotica until last summer.

Q: What originally piqued your interest in ancient Egypt? What kind of research did you do for Sacreligious?

SJ: Egypt... It's like going home for me. If one believes in past lives, at least one of mine was in Egypt. :) Since I can remember realizing there were places other than Hometown USA, I have been obsessed with Egypt. The research that I did focused mainly on the royal family, rituals and magick, and the Egyptain Pantheon of the Fourth Dynasty; reign of Khufu, to be exact. I originally did the research for a paranormal romance novel, and just have never been able to release those images.

Q: Who and what do you think influences your writing today?

SJ: I'm not sure what to say for current influences. I have been an avid reader, and I inhaled books by Tolkein, Stephen R. Donaldson, Margaret Douglas, Anne McCaffery. I've even read the Harry Potter series. More than that, though, I think my inner drive to write what I like to read influences me. At least in so far as my own writing goes, because I read that a lot... :)

Q: Imagine you're on a nice secluded beach, on vacation. What light reading is tucked into your beach bag?

SJ: Mine mine mine!! Kidding... Actually, there are some unpublished works that I have had the pleasure of previewing that I would love to print out and drag around. A few of them right here at AA. Past that, I would sooner drag my laptop or pen and paper.

Q: What's your writing routine like? How many hours a day do you put in?

SJ: That varies on who has the whip! I usually get up about 6:30am, and do the pee-pee dance while I turn on the Dell. After breakfast, I blog around. Then I open up whichever WIP is screaming the loudest in my head and start writing... I can write for hours and get nowhere fast, sometimes I can pour out pages like one possessed.

Q: Tell us about Sacreligious. What inspired you to start it?

SJ: Ooo... Good question. First and foremost, I was not about to tell an Egyptian god 'No.' Who am I to deny Anubis?? I could see him, smell him... feel the claws... *sigh* From there, after AA's interest, it grew like a sandstorm in the desert, and I simply rode the winds. Secondly, it was a playground that standard pubs frowned on, soooo I had to try it!

Rhythmed

2006-02-14T08:15:00.000-05:00

Taught muscles
tremble,
awaiting the sweet release.
Anticipation
in the dark.
Decadent energy
flooding,
intoxicating,
overwhelming-
to pound in my ears
and drum in my chest.
Pulsation,
sensation,
fascination-
Throbbing lights,
husky voice in rhythmed refrain-
intimate through
closed eyes.
Indrawn breath,
awaiting the sweet release.

You, on stage.

I'm sure not many people think in forms of poetry after seeing bands such as Default, Trapt and Nickelback on stage... But I do.

Waxing Poetic

2006-02-11T08:50:00.000-05:00

You Are the Puppetier

I’m only a marionette
on strings of smoke-
You are the puppetier,
and I perform
in your bed of ashes.
Your hands are the tinder,
and I am ignited by your touch.
I dance for you.
My eyes are twin sparks
that disguise the flame
burning me through.
The wood of my strength
is consumed
by glowing tongues,
And my body becomes ashes
in your hypnotic dance.

Sasha's Song

2006-02-10T11:29:00.000-05:00

For those interested, here's an excerpt, a taste, of my new vampire short story titled Sasha's Song, tagline: The last thing heard on this side of life...

Tight, sinuous, supple bodies entwined; I inhaled his expelled breath, my heartbeat echoed his. Jase's hands slid along my curves, tantalizing sensitive points as they passed. He drew me closer, pressed me tight so that I could smell the ardor pulsing hotly in his blood; he pressed his cheek to mine and groaned in my ear as my hand slid satin smooth over his burgeoned loins. My body responded in kind, heated hunger surged up through my veins, dual appetites for carnal and sanguinary satisfaction.

Ever still the music played, washed over and through us.

I directed our wicked waltz toward the French doors to the right of the foyer. Jase pinioned my body up against the oaken panel, pressing his mouth on mine, his tongue testing the tips of my fangs. He was an eager apprentice, practicing his new skills upon his master. I swooned within his arms, kissed him back fervently. His hand came up my back to tangle in my tresses as one of my hands found hard evidence of his desires and the other found the door knob, and turned. Our bodies tumbled through the entrance and onto a large divan. Jase landed atop me with his hands braced to either side of my shoulders pressed deep into the plush cushions, with his pelvis plied between my thighs.

Jase took on the role of aggressor with consummate ease. I allowed him to guide my body down upon the cushions, where he straddled my hips, one knee buried in the cushions, the other foot braced on the floor for leverage. I watched him watching me, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright, his enjoyment was obvious, although his outcome was clouded. I wanted him badly, I burned with desire, yet even now blood lust gnarled my guts and tainted my sexual thrill.

With one hand upon my chest, bracing me beneath him, he pulled the jersey from his own body and exposed an abdomen rippled with muscle. "Mmmm," I purred, and wrenched away a glove to touch his warm chest. My cool skin tickled him as he twitched a little, and then took hold of my hand, directing my fingertips down the furrow between his abdominal muscles to his beltline. He shivered a little, and smiled.

"Cool hands feel so good," he groaned as I slipped my fingertips beneath the belt to caress the
stiff organ leashed behind his denims. Jase moved his bracing hand behind my neck, gnarling his fingers in my hair as he pulled me up to a sitting position beneath him. "Do not move."

"I wouldn't dream of it," I sighed. I enjoyed being subjected to his prowess.

He made swift work of my gorgeous gown, ripping the cloth in his haste to remove the fabric barrier between us. The dress came up over my head in a rush of amber spice. Jase bunched the fabric in his fists, brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, eyes closed, before he rose up and tossed the gown into the fireplace. Naked once more, I leaned forward and clawed the pants from his body – clothing was no longer necessary. Nothing was but our heat, our desire – and his blood.

DOOM

2006-02-07T23:01:00.000-05:00

Okay, now I never thought I would like Karl Urban as any other character than Eomer, but DOOM proved me wrong. Even though the movied sucked major a**, I ended up really liking Urban as Reaper -- dark haired, dark eyed, packing heat and bloodied up... Oh yeah! *plots to dress hubby in camo, and tech him out with cache of fire arms...*

Savanna3

2006-02-06T08:51:00.000-05:00

Savanna3
Originally uploaded by Passion Bleeds.

Okay, y'all let's just see if this works... :)

Pic problems

2006-02-06T08:08:00.000-05:00

Okay. It's a seriously pissy pouty Monday for me, to be sure. I had a couple of wicked awesome banners made up over the weekend *ego alert!* and I wanted to put them here somewhere, but alas, I am html/pic posting deficient. I have no clue to go about it.

SO, my big question, today is HTF do ya'll get the damn pics on here??

Hopefully, once I get this figured out, I will post some excerpts from one of my new naughty vampire stories... :)

Author Page Linkage

2006-01-31T17:35:00.000-05:00

Yo! Been a while since I posted. *sigh* Being in demand is SO difficult... *sniggers* I have my own author page up at Aphrodite's Apples. No pic, yet, but it's coming! :)

Unrequited

2006-01-26T08:19:00.000-05:00

Wanting you,
the sweetest sorrow
that trembles on my soul,

Needing you,
the nettled bliss
that wraps about my heart,

Loving you,
the gentle pain
that gets me through the night.

Uderworld and the author hat

2006-01-24T08:10:00.000-05:00

Well, I had SO anticipated the sequel to Underworld. I had myself all worked up for something fabulous. Wrong-o!! Maybe it was because my author hat was screwed on too tight, and I couldn't separate myself from my story analyzing. Whatever the cause, these are my reasons for disliking the film:

William, the original lycan looked like a gorram silver back gorilla with a muzzle and ears. Can you say "man in a suit?!"
The older lycans were supposed to be terrifying, unable to control their frenzy, etc. Sorry, no. They looked like f*cking puppies. Oo... scary.
Alexander Corvinus was a pussed out old man.
Markus was ugly in human form and he looked like he'd been beaten with an ugly stick in his evolved form; a quasi-Kindred Nos Feratu crossed with a f*ckin leaf nosed bat! So you've got wings now, Bat Boy... Yippee.
Viktor was subjugating an entire species. Wow. No surprise there... Karma came round and bit him in the ass. "You ain't leading but two things, Jack and Shit... and Jack left town."
The action was lack-luster at best. I wanted balls-to-the-wall, I got a puppies in jock straps.
They watered down the plot with the "romace" between Selene and Michael. As an erotic writer, I was tearing the sh*t outta that scene, knowing the body angles meant not a damn thing was happening. (However, Scott Speedman naked was a fair consolation prize.)
The only "good" point for me was how absolutely lustable Selene was with the new silver/white eye color. Gods that woman is beautiful!

And as Delmar said in O Brother, Where Art Thou?... "That's all I've got."

Vampire Voyuerism

2006-01-21T08:22:00.000-05:00

I could smell his heat, taste his hunger to satisfy, even over her very floral perfume. With scarcely a thought to the transition, I took on my shadow form and blended into the dark behind the two would-be lovers. She paused a moment, dramatically leaned against the wall right beside me, and then pulled Josiah to her. He gave into her eager advances, allowing her to kiss his neck and unbutton his shirt. As she touched his skin with her pink-tinted nails, I touched him, too, so close were we that her desire screamed in my veins, pumped as thickly as blood. I could taste her need.

The woman stepped back through the curtained doorway and tumbled onto the nearest divan. I followed, only a breath behind, blending into the shadowy folds of the gossamer curtains shrouding the sofa. Josiah reached for the hem of her shirt; she raised herself up for him, and he pulled the blouse off from her body in a rush of jasmine perfume. Her tanned skin gleamed in the amber lighting, so warm and inviting; despite his inclination to hesitation, Josiah reached out and stroked her golden skin. She caught his fingers at the waistline of her skirt and brought his hand up and atop of her lace bra. She trembled in my shadow, lending her pleasure to me.

Josiah's artist's hands caressed her form with delicate, soft strokes as though touching precious artwork. The woman whimpered and moaned, begged for his kiss – with her eyes closed, she could not see his fangs, pointed and ready to pierce her skin. In the shadows over his shoulder, I licked my lips, as eager as she for fulfillment at his hand. Rather than grace her mouth with his lips, Josiah leaned forward to kiss the barest tip of her breast, his vampire fangs piercing through the fabric to prickle her flesh.

Blood bloomed like roses through the cloth, and her body lurched in a throe of erotic agony; near as I was, I could feel it too. No longer able to contain myself, I poured through the fabric between us, my shadow hands on her flesh. Desire pulsed through her, through me, and I waited for him to touch her again.

Josiah brought a hand up along the side of her body, trailing his fingers over her skirt and then back to her breasts. With a quick motion of his finger, her bra fell away to expose firm, full breasts. Even as he bore down on the taught nipple, white canines through her skin, his nimble hands made quick work of the skirt's trappings, leaving her naked save for a thong of iridescent silver.

While her eyes were closed in ecstasy, I reached over her body, and with claws extended, I pulled Josiah's suit away; the ivory fabric poured like thick cream from his body, and lay in a puddle on the floor. Her eyes whisked open, to see the glory of his body before her. Panting and eager, she moaned as she reached to caress his lean muscled abdomen, her index finger following the v-shaped line from his hips downward. He trembled a little as her hands found that throbbing part which he shared in love making only with me. She licked her hand, taking the moisture downward to slide upon his shaft and an involuntary groan escaped his throat.

As though that moan were a request, the blond rose up, bent forward and enveloped his engorgement in her painted lips. It was such a rarity for a woman's lips to suckle him without the accompaniment of fangs that he gave into the fantasy, wrapping his fingers into fists in her pale hair with his face twitching in pleasure.

Josiah grew closer to orgasm, I could feel the energy building in him and, with a sudden pull, he lifted her head swiftly from his pelvis. His eyes were afire, his fangs at full bore, and a small shriek escaped her lips as he pushed the woman back upon the divan. I felt her fear, shared her desire as his hands came up between her knees and pulled them apart, then he leaned forward and buried his face in her throat.

Yet, Josiah did not give her what her body begged for; he would share that passion with no one but me. Instead, his finger slipped beneath the flimsy strap of her thong and found her damp, throbbing folds even as his sharp canines razored through her flesh. Pleasure rose through her body, burned through mine, as Josiah took her body toward climax. My own flesh pulsed with desire, wanting, needing what the unnamed woman was feeling as her surging heart pushed ecstasy and agony through her body even as it pumped blood through the opened vein.

She was so close to climax that it became a sweet torture for her. His mouth full of her blood, Josiah released his hold on her neck, wrapping the fingers of one hand around her throat to stave the flow of blood and allow her body to reach orgasm. The sudden explosion of her climax echoed in my body as her cries were muffled and then silenced by the curtained walls.

Josiah rose from the woman, her blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he delicately stroked her forehead. Her eyes slowly closed, and he pulled a coverlet over her naked body as she slipped into sleep. She would wake later and remember nothing.

My lover, however, took my hand as I materialized beside him and he pulled me to the gossamer shrouded bed. Renewed energy pulsed through him, born by the consumption of fresh blood, and he used that power to take the clothing forcibly from my body, lift me from the floor and then push me down upon the plush pillows. Josiah crouched between my thighs; his lips stained a brilliant red from her blood still trailing down his cheek, and his desire stiff and evident between us as he leaned forward. He kissed me then, the tip of his shaft tickling my flesh as he allowed the woman's blood to flow into my mouth and down my throat. I accepted it eagerly, and swallowed; the spice of her ardor burned as it went down.

The power of her passion began to course through me, redoubling the tantalizing sensations as Josiah brought his hot mouth to my breast. His tongued danced on the nipple as his fangs grazed my skin. My eyes rolled, and I groaned as muscles twitched in my body – by the Gods; I loved that sting of coupled passion and pain.

My skin became his tapestry, a medium for his artistic sexual expression. His hands and mouth moved, touched everywhere at once, and a delicate web laced across my flesh, impressions formed as they were by Josiah piercing, tattooing my skin with his fangs – brilliant, scarlet red; the color of love, of passion. As each line of blood raised beneath his bite, the heat of my desires flared higher. My body became kindling as his touch and tongue set our passions ablaze.

Consumed now by the insatiable craving, I rose from the bed and tumbled Josiah beneath me. Fingernails clawing into his shoulder blades, I embraced him, with his shaft throbbing hot and hard in my folds and my lips on his neck. I kissed him there, and then licked the sweat from his skin as my hips rose up, and drove down upon him again. I felt his legs quiver as he struggled against climax. I smiled then, and pierced his neck with my fangs. Blood rushed against my tongue, mingled with the sweat tingling there, as my body moved rhythmically, riding the waves of pleasure that carried our bodies to a uniting orgasm.

Josiah shuddered beneath me, fingers dug into the blankets beneath him as his climax pulse within me and I cried out as ecstasy flooded my body. It was an eerie howl that echoed within The Chamber.

Desolation

2006-01-19T14:03:00.000-05:00

Silently she sits

on the edge

of a musty, gray-linened bed,
feet splayed wide,
skirt draped on battered knees.

Brown bottle rolls empty
on the floor
(tinkle,
tinkle)

Chin couched
in a scarred palm,
while with the other hand
she throws
darts
at her portrait on the wall.

GRUBY CANDY, better known in my circle as Bacon Popcorn

2006-01-19T10:21:00.000-05:00

I believe that dear Bernita once referred to my blog/writing as gruby candy, which I took to be something good, but perhaps a little too 'dirty' to share... Way okay for a erotica writer! :p Woot! but, then again, I might have taken that particular post completely wrong. And, you will correct me if I did, right Bernita??

Anyways...

Dennie, a new reader here showed interest in my bacon popcorn recipe so I figured I would post it here and "share the Love," as my GF puts it.

BACON POPCORN

6 to 8 slices of bacon, uncooked
2 to 3 handsful of popping corn kernels
1/3 to 1/2 stick of butter
garlic and salt

In sauce pan, cut bacon strips into 1" chunks. Over medium to medium high heat, fry to nearly crisp in bottom of saucepan. Add popping corn and cover with lid. Pop corn, pouring off the popped kernels and bacon chunks as they rise to top of pan. When popping stops, add butter to pan and melt. (Do not use margarine, as the water in it makes the corn chewy *gag*) Drizzle melted butter over popped corn, toss. Season to taste.

WARNING: not an acceptable food for those with high cholesterol, high blood pressure, hyper tension or squeamish tendancies toward fat or meat.

Great wintertime treat. Goes well with WWE, UFC and action movies. This is a damn good snack with beer, or any mixer with Coke. I prefer Captain Morgan's Tattoo and Coke, as everyone should get "a little Captain in you!"

Gorram TAG

2006-01-17T08:37:00.000-05:00

(I love ya, Candice, but did you have to?? *sigh*)

What were you doing ten years ago? Kat was a 6 month old baby. Enough said.

What were you doing one year ago? Writing, wishing to the gods I was published. (funny how things change)

Five snacks you enjoy:
Snickers
Reese's (White Chocolate covered)
BW3's Teriyaki wings
Corn Chips
Bacon Popcorn

Five songs to which you know all the lyrics:
Touch Too Much, AC/DC
Buttons, Pussycat Dolls
Devil's Party, INXS
Gonna Get Close To You, Queensryche (dark, creepy, stalkerish -- right up my alley!)
Forever May Not Be Long Enough, LIVE

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
Pay off debts
Swim with dolphins (my major fantasy)
Visit Egypt (okay, so I'm obsessed. Call it a past life thing)
Build a bigger house
Own something made from Morganite (it's pink!)

Five bad habits:
Compulsions
Lack of initiative
Cussing
Giving in
Snacking

Five things you like doing:
Writing
Reading
Crafting
Shopping (okay, so I'm a girly girl sometimes)
Taking hot showers with Mr. Jordan

Five things you would never wear or buy again:
That silly pink mesh shirt.
A bikini bottom without a top. (Only in France... ^_^)
Frappuchino in a bottle. *gag*
Someone else's ring. (long story...)
CLOTHES THAT I DON'T LIKE (another long story)

Five favorite toys:
Build-a-Bear stuffies
My Dell
MP3 player
Characters in my stories
Minds *evil laugh*

Five people I’m tagging:
Nope! Not this time. Dance, frolic and live free, My minions!

Bitches, Pinks and Weres... oh my!

2006-01-15T09:20:00.000-05:00

*sigh* As a Creative, do you ever feel like River Tam?? A victim of your own mind and the malice within? "Bullet in the brainpan. Squish..." Yeah, I feel like that a bit lately. Writing, stories, images -- I can't stop the dark floodtide since Sariah opened those damn gates...

The Den undulated in an orgy of churning flesh. Furniture, floor, doorjambs; all supported Weres and Pinks coupled in throes of erotic agony. Or bliss. Furred hides gave purchase in which pink fingers tangled, and fleshy bottoms clenched or spread, rose or fell in an animalistic abandon.

At one time, images like this would have never been allowed entrance, or entertainment, in my mind.

Oh my...

I am and Aphrodite Girl!

2006-01-11T12:57:00.000-05:00

That's right, BloggerVerse. Just this week, H.S. Kinn from the new e-publisher has offered me a contract. Well, make that THREE!!! *huge f*ckin grin* Aphrodite's Apples has offered contracts for soon-to-be revised versions of From the Sands... as well as a horror short titled Past Midnight, and (this is the best part), a Pantheon anthology (as yet to be titled by AA) that I am pitching as Sacreligious. This anthology is tailored made for me, it's all deity and human *ahem* relations! WooHoo!!

Come on, Y'all, join me in a happy dance!!!! (Booty shakin' highly recommended.) That's TWO sales in a month!!

Secret sharing is over

2006-01-06T22:51:00.000-05:00

Well, if you missed it, then I'm sorry. But, those of you who know now, please keep it quiet, okay? No letting that other name slip! I'm trusting you gals to keep it quiet now.

Thanks a bunch to those who showed up for my first author chat!! Candice, Girlfriend, you better be there next time!! *pouts* Acaciah was even there. Bernita, I had hoped to see you...

I will post the link again, and date of the next chat, when it is scheduled. Only, there won't be anymore secret sharing. :P

SERVICE??!?!

2005-12-31T09:00:00.000-05:00

Danger Will Robinson! Danger! A rant is to ensue:

*spit* *snort* *snarl*

We went out to eat last night, just Mr. Jordan and I. Rarity, let me tell you. But, anyway, that's not the point. On recommendation, we went to a new restaurant that BGF Lisa told me had great atmosphere and food.

Excuse me?!?

Must have been a f*ckin parallel universe that we Jordans stepped into.

We sat to our table in the 'bar' section, (loud, busy, frenetic mojo) and this cute little thing with a fresh face and pony-tail was Johnny-on-the-spot to our table. "HI," cute smile "I'm the-one-who-should-be-serving-you and I'll be your waitress tonight."

Things went down hill from that point.

In swoops the hag. Fresh-Face Waitress was chased off by Bling-Bitch Waitress with a face like a backstop and too much jewelry which, in hindsight, I am sure was a tactical distraction from her less than sparkly attitude and less than attractive looks. "I am Bling-Bitch Waitress-from-HELL and I will be your waitress tonight."

Yeah, whatever, just get us our damn drinks, okay?

And, then, she squeals, "Oh! My parents are here!"

Bling-Bitch shot from our table side to seat her parants and wait on them. Meanwhile, we are stuck waiting for Bling-Bitch Waitress to get our damn drinks! After fawning on her parent units, Bling-Bitch brought our drinks, ice already melting in my weakass ice tea. But, then her parents got their appetizers first, her parents got 6 visits to their table while we received one. We watched Bling-Bitch screw up everyone else's orders around us. Then, she FINALLY took our order. *pre-emptive* Pulled Pork BBQ and fries. How f*ckin difficult is that?!?

Needless to say, we waited a long time for our food. Bling-Bitch's parents got their food way before us. I though to myself, "Are you f*cking the pig before ya butcher it?!?" Geezus! When our orders did arrive, the sandwhich buns were greasy/soggy, indicative of the time spent waiting on Bling-Bitch to get them and bring them to our table, the BBQ was unimpressive, and Bling-Bitch f*cked up my order. Forgot the fries, which were a special request!

We won't be going back there. And our refusal is directly related to Bling-Bitch's bad service.

I would say that she totally sucked. But that would imply that she was good for something.

Been kicking around a new concept

2005-12-28T13:19:00.000-05:00

As if the stress of the Holidays, sick kids and fighting family members wasn't enough, pile on some wicked excitement and paperwork to sign, and then I go and get the bright idea to start yet another project...

Tentative title: Hunted

Being called a bitch was the least of her concerns. She had been called worse by better men than the corpses left behind in that deserted alley.

Given their remote location, it would be a while before the bodies were found and much, much longer before the remains were identified. She had seen to that. The teeth were smashed into their braincases, and chunks of their flesh now soured in her stomach. Those severed limbs jostled against each other within the churning acid of her guts. Digested fingerprints were impossible to read. Dental records weren't much good on gum lines.

Bastards, Sariah snarled.

They had chosen to hurl vulgarities on the one night on which she could not control the beast within her. She did not take particular exception to the terminology – in truth, they were tragically correct. In more ways than one. She was a bitch. It was the tone of their taunts, the rude gestures, the puffed chests and bulging denims. She hated that. And, in her present state, Sariah could not tolerate that derisive, tough-guy verbal swagger or the eager musk that hung heavy in the air surrounding them.

She shook her head to clear the tainted images. Blood flew from her snout to spatter the ragged blouse which hung from her neckline. She looked down at herself. Tawny hide, talons, a ripped blouse, barely recognizable now, shoes gone; but the leather skirt still clung to her hips with a savage fit. A dark laugh caught in her inhuman throat.

Carnage and leather looked good on her, she thought.

...mentioned vampires

2005-12-23T09:28:00.000-05:00

Seeing as someone in a previous post mentioned vampires...

BLOODLUST

Hungry –
So hungry for your flesh
That my teeth throb.
It is so much more than
Carnal desire…
The dance between us,
This game of pursuit
Tantalizes,
Rises in waves
Akin to passion's heat,
Until my body burns,
Pulsating
To your unspoken name.
I want you,
Want to taste you now.
An ardent moment,
Beneath midnight's cape,
Sensual and unseen –
Touch and tease, and then,
Furtive contact
My lips soft on your body,
My teeth bearing down.
Fear mingles like spice
With the scent of your skin.
I feel your pulse falter
Beneath my tongue
As I drink you in.
And yet I am not satisfied.

Waxing poetic

2005-12-21T10:58:00.000-05:00

Hot Night

Heavy air,
thick with moisture.
Satin drapings
cling to undisclosed curves.
Tangled, eager sheets
climb my legs.
Fingers snarl
in my tussled hair,
And,
sweat shimmers,
a tingling sheen,
glossing taught muscles,
as my body
rises to greet
an errant sultry breeze

Beastiality

2005-12-13T09:17:00.000-05:00

Before reading this post, I want y'all to know that I am NOT saying "Here, Rover! Here, Boy...." THAT IS NASTY. With that said, read on...

What's up with the ban on beastiality thing?? I have a rightfully hot erotic short fic story, but because the male in the story has claws and fur, it's bad. Forbidden fruit. Taboo. I can't share it. No one is going to get to read it.

Not fair.

By all intents and purposes, he isn't a beast at all, but an animorphic Egypitan god. Hello?! Anubis is not animal. Sexy as hell, I think. Well, except for those *ahem* Hollywood-ized, rotted-flesh-with-golden-collars Anubis Warriors in The Mummy Returns. Ew. But, Oo! Wasn't Oded hot, fighting them, though? Sweaty, little bit of blood, tussled hair... Oh, yeah! *sigh* But, I digress.

I am half tempted to post the short fic here. But, then again, I am not sure if my (two) readers would appreciate that. (Hi, Candice! Hi, Bernita!) And what good would come of scaring away my gals? Gratification of thumbing my nose at the ban is only so satisfying, after all. Maybe I should just horde it up like the "grubby candy" that it is. Maybe not.

Any suggestions?

2005-12-06T08:30:00.000-05:00

So damn tired this morning. My head was too heavy to lift off the pillow, yet I struggled up and into my slippers. Our son was already at the table, clinking his spoon in the cereal bowl and making my brain convulse in its un-caffienated state.

"Morning Mom." No a bright smile, no singsongy voice. He's not a morning person either. Yet there we were.

The dog happy-danced at the back door when my Hubby returned home from his third shift job. He occupied my Dell for awhile, and our daughter Kat straggled from her room. She's grumpy too, but, that's nothing new. Then, Hubby took our boy to school and Kat lost herself in the traumatic world of Animal Planet.

Hubby returned home and got into bed. The dog jumped up on one side and I slipped in behind him on the other.

That pillow felt so good against my head, the bed cozy and welcoming. Hips to hips, knees pressed to knees, nestled as tight as spoons -- the only barrier between the flesh was a layer of pajama. I ran my fingers through the hair on his chest, leaned my face closer to smell the warmth rising from his bare shoulder. I love that curve where the neck becomes the shoulder, that long lean muscle. So ready to support my tired head. So strong and resistant to tears. So perfect to bite in a heated moment.

Bite. My mind swum in a swell of heat. My jaws ached. If teeth could yearn, mine yearned for his flesh. That muscle would fit so well between my canines...

Nothing vicious. No blood. Just bite...

I leaned closer still, my nose tickeld by the fine hairs on his skin. My jaw trembled. I closed my eyes, his warmth the only sensation other than the pounding of my heart. Desire burned me.

I pressed my lips to that curve, yet retained the teeth for some other moment. Some moment when he might be awake enough to enjoy my bite.

Winter

2005-11-26T10:15:00.000-05:00

Gorram snow!

"Oh it's sooo pretty! I love to just sit and watch the snowflakes dance on the winter breeze."

Yeah. Right. WRONG-O!!

Then I opened up the door this morning to find nearly a foot of the gorram shit! Te me da!! So. I go out with my husband's tightass boots on my bigass feet, hair flying everywhere but where it should (including my eyes and nose), thin leather gloves and a gorram shovel. And. The fucking arthritis in full flare up in arms and shoulders. Woo. Hoo. Let's go shovel! AND The damn dog is barking, "Throw the shovels full my way!" ***edited for material of a familial offensive nature***

Foul weather, I tell ya, and not all of it on the outside. Pretty damn ugly on the inside.

All the while I am shoveling thinking the ***edited for material of a familial offensive content***

Then, maybe four square feet from driveway completion and total ruination of my joints for the next three days, ***edited for material of a familial offensive content***

Pretty damn ugly on the inside.

It was so much better last night, sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine, a good friend watching wrestling with me and the gorram snow falling outside the window.

Basking and bitching

2005-11-08T16:01:00.000-05:00

Ah. Well, the serious writer side of me is basking in the glow of praise from a LiveJournal user who is currently reading my novel. I just love it when someone loves what I've written. It swells my chest, not that THAT is necessary, and puts a smile on my face.

And, Savannah's horns start to rise. The frisky, sassy side of me has a hotbed of fuel lately with two recent great reviews. If I didn't have WORK to do for my agent for submissions, I'd have to whip out the WIP and write something steamy. Something with teeth and more skin. Something hot. Or something dark and with tendancies toward slaughter.

On to the bitching, which my son blurts out is a 'bad word.' In defense of me, which it seems that there are precious few are today... Have you ever had a day that it felt as if you could do no right. Yup. "Today is that day, Evie." (quote from The Mummy Returns) Since my hubby set foot to the floor I've felt like the whipping girl. Sorry, but my pajamas are most comfortable when I have the chills. Sorry, my pajamas are most comfortable when the methotrexate is knocking me on my ass. Sorry, but I am not going to get dressed and run around when my guts are gnarled and I feel like crap.

Venom spatter over. Typing over. Arthritis is winning. Dammit.

The indignities of being female

2005-10-29T14:27:00.000-04:00

So. Okay, here we go. To christen this blog, I begin with bitchin, because... I'm a bitch, therefore~ I'm a bitch.

This is for all the women out there.

*Remember, if you don't want to read rotten, vulgar bitchin, Step Off*

Recently, I had to go to the crotch doctor for a "check up." Now, I ask you, how dignified are you, laying on your back with your feet in stirrups and the only thing between your legs is a balding man in a lab coat and various metal tools of feminine torture?? Please. The paper ass skirt they give you to cover yourself is supposed to be One-Size-Fits-All. Yeah, right. I don't know which All they are referring, but it sure the hell isn't me. So, you sit on the examination table/medieval wrack of a chair thingy, the one where they can raise you ass higher then your head, or drop the bottom out so that you feel like your sliding into Dr. LabCoat. The ever present draft is sneeking between the gaping ends of the OSFA paper ass skirt while you sit and look at anything, everything, count holes in the ceiling tiles, wonder WTF they have Pittsburgh Steelers sock thingies on the stirrups for. Anything to keep your brain from going as numb as your bare butt. Half an a hour later (why don't we get reimbursed for the time our asses are hanging fancy free out their paper ass skirts??) Then, they show up, perfunctionarily polite as they tip your head to the floor, your ass on high, poke, prod and take cultures (chunks of flesh) while your toes turn numb from the awkward angles... Then they send you away, achy, grumpy and wanting badly for something of the chocolate or murderous variety.

Thanks for that.

Even the women doctors aren't much better.

We women are raised to be polite, caring, considerate of others before ourselves, raised to carry themselves with dignity and grace, and then they point your hooha to the stars with your knees at 90-degree angles. How is that dignified??