That first real look at a new love is never enough.

I’m going to let it go. I’ve set myself some ambitious publishing goals for 2019, but I can do it. I just have to learn to let go. Perfection does not exist. I can’t find every mistake. That has to be the saddest sentence I’ll type today… Here’s another snippet from my upcoming How to Love a Pink Demon. Tell me what you think! 

Peace,

SS

She resembled Tommy strongly. But she was a few inches taller, around 5’9 with the long, slender legs he remembered from his dream. She shared the same, large, hazel eyes as her cousin, the same short black hair, though her pixie cut was more utilitarian than her cousin’s slightly longer, more elegant style.

She wore plain clothes, a pale grey t-shirt and darker grey jeans. There were tiny gold studs in her small, neat ears, but no rings on her long fingers, no watch on her narrow wrist. He was charmed to see a dainty charm of a gun hung on a thin gold chain around her neck. He remembered the gun from his dreams. Did she like fire arms?

He wanted to snatch her up right this moment and steal her away. He closed his eyes and took some more deep breaths to keep himself from doing just that. Patience, he reminded himself.

Throughout the party he hung back and watched. He made friends with the men. Many took a liking to him, inviting him to dinners and racquetball and such, and he accepted. He liked them, and these were her people, so he wanted them to get to know him. But as he talked, she never left his sight.

She was quiet, but he could see that people liked her, respected her. She was also tired. She yawned several times, and his hands clenched into fists when she sat down on the couch and dropped off to sleep. She had to be exhausted to sleep like that in the middle of a party. She looked peaceful, her head back against the couch, her highball glass still propped on her thigh. It was as though there weren’t three dozen people laughing and talking, their glasses clinking all around her.

He scowled. Why was she so tired? He needed to talk to her, learn more about her. He could help her. She shouldn’t be that tired.

He clenched his fists so hard his fingers turned white resisting the urge to pick her up, take her off to bed, tuck her in. He wanted to undress her, kiss her lush, unpainted pink lips and whisper goodnight into her shiny black hair. Once she was his, he’d make sure she didn’t exhaust herself like this. He would take care of her if she couldn’t or wouldn’t do it herself.

As the party rolled on, he led his new friends with gentle questions, and he heard various tid bits from the other party goers about Tommy’s cousin Steele. He got the impression she was a bit mysterious, that they were protecting her. He soon figured out why. Tommy tried to be vague about what she did, but he wasn’t stupid. Several piecey conversations and some eavesdropped chatter later, and he figured out that she sold drugs.

He didn’t care. She wouldn’t be doing it much longer. He had other plans for her. His mate. His tension eased, and he smiled. kulup pani nost yon. Roughly translated the Garhine phrase meant “when the smoke cleared.”

He had a plan.