Hey y’all. Lou n Lucky are rolling along nicely. This demon series is turning out to be so frickin’ fun. I don’t know why, but it’s so light hearted and just plain – fun! Pardon my repetition. I never for a second pictured me enjoying writing science fiction. But it’s a gas. I love it. I think part of it’s because I’m writing about demons, men who aren’t men, who have none of the crap, say, an American male is born into, but all of the love and affection etc of another breed born – in this case – to revere women. Recall, he comes from a matriarchal society. Let that just roll around in your mind for a second. Boggles, no?
I dunno what it is that’s so entertaining about my paranormal WIP, but my characters are serious smile hounds. Or maybe that’s me? I might need to get depressed real quick, so I can write accordingly? LOL I keep telling myself, add drama! We need angst, action! But I’se gettin’ to it. Meantime, here’s a lil’ taste for you. Unedited. I’m slowly leading up to his big reveal – my Lou, did I mention I wasn’t human? – via nightmare. No idea how it’s gonna play out, but tell me what you think. – SS
Things weren’t perfect. They were often idyllic, but they were not perfect. For one thing, Lucky was a poor sleeper. He dropped off fine, but he rarely stayed asleep, and because they were so close, that meant she didn’t sleep a night through either.
Sometimes he’d wake in the night, shaking like a leaf, his beautiful body damp with sweat. He claimed he never remembered his nightmares, but she didn’t completely believe him. There was something too troubled in his eyes, like whatever it was that stalked his dreams was not unknown.
That was how the naps started. Turned out he was already a champion napper. She became one. Their favorite time was after tea. Lucky earned it. He’d usually been up working since some unreasonably early hour. She refused to leave bed for anything other than the toilet or her laptop before 9 a.m.
But as time passed, she adopted his early morning habits too. When he commented, she scowled at him. “I haven’t technically left the bed.”
She wasn’t completely splitting hairs. She usually spent an hour or two writing amidst their tumbled sheets before he appeared, usually as soon as her belly rumbled for breakfast. He’d have to drag her away, often physically lifting her from the bed and taking her into the bathroom for a shower. Then he’d squire her to the table like it was some great distance, and she couldn’t be trusted to make it there on her own.
He was probably right. She did great work early. Knowing her, after one of his quick and sexy showers – it wasn’t uncommon for him to give her an oral orgasm or fuck her into the shower wall until she was too weak to stand unaided – she’d have gone back to her computer.
“You’re changing everything,” she accused him.
“Yes,” he agreed.
Denied the fight she didn’t really want, Lou scowled. “Stop being so bloody agreeable. Why don’t you ever fight with me? Normal couples occasionally do that, you know. Have the odd knockdown, drag out over something completely stupid.”
He just blinked at her.
“There’s make up sex to look forward to afterward.”
Now he laughed.
“Still not interested? I thought all things sexual peaked your not inconsiderable curiosity.”
He just smiled at her.
“Not even a squabble?”
He shook his head.
“How about a conniption? Just a tiny little fit.”
“It’s not normal that we’re so easy with other. There’s no drama! No heat.”
“Not that,” she said impatiently.
She narrowed her eyes, opened her mouth a few times, but ultimately, she had nothing.
“You are so used to drama because of that ex of yours” – she loved the way he sneered the words ex so contemptuously. All that was missing was a massive eye roll. – “That you’re uncomfortable being comfortable. That is ridiculous, my Lou. Why don’t you write? That always sorts you out.”
And he left.
She stared after him then shrugged. “Yeah,” she muttered. “Why don’t I write?”
She didn’t raise her head for two hours. And she wouldn’t have then if Potts hadn’t appeared with a tall glass of lemon water.
“Thanks, my love.” She guzzled it down.
He eyed her. “I’ll bring you a something to eat. Get up and stretch, and good on you.”
“Not asking where Lucky is. He’s the one who usually brings your snacks.”
“It was a wrench, love. But I managed.”
“You know it!”
She wrote for another hour, pausing to nosh slices of the pear Potts cut up for her.
“Time for a walk,” said Lucky.
She looked up frowning, her mind still somewhere inside her computer. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You need fresh air. But first I want to show you what I’ve been doing.”
“A tour of completed work a la handyman. You must be bucking for a raise.”
Lou laughed. “Stop being so literal, darling. I was joking.”
He grinned and grabbed her hand to his chest. “You called me darling.”
“Haven’t I done before?”
He shook his head.
She kissed his mouth gently. “What a terrible oversight, my dear. You must forgive me. It won’t happen again, darling.”
He crushed her against him and squeezed her until her laughter turned into a squeak.