Friday, 10 January 2014

Not Long To Go Now—Moonlit Wolves #1

Yeah, um, I little scattered at the moment, don’t see it getting better any times soon, because it doesn’t really matter that it will go on sale. Then I have to start worrying about reviews and that part in the book that I really shouldn’t have put there, and I’m worried, because of it you’ll all hate me and not want to read anything else I’ve written.
See, yeah, hopeless.
There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s all fine. Everything will go swimmingly and they will love you.
I just wish these pep talks actually worked, lol
Here’s excerpt number two,
[realisation from first excerpt: this comes from my last editing, so it’s not been proofread]
“Let’s face it, you’re fucked anyway, why not hope for the best and get what you can out of the situation.”
Kidnapping the boy of one of the mob leaders isn’t easy, and when said boy happens to be a werewolf’s mate, it’s bound to get messy.
Trying to breathe while winded made it harder and sent a stitch ripping at his side. He started to get his feet under him, knowing that it hadn’t been a hard trip down the hill and he needed to get moving. At least to the tree line, since even through the water in his eyes and the dots that had him wanting to pass out, he could see he was on the outskirts of a clearing. It wasn’t big, at least he really hoped it wasn’t. But it was definitely moon-drenched.
His feet wouldn’t work, and his body didn’t want to get up. It didn’t want to move. Jex hoped that would change once he got a lung-full of oxygen, but even that was difficult as the fall hadn’t been some gentle carnival slide. He really hoped he hadn’t broken anything, but because everything was numb from the night, he didn’t know.
Voices all around him sent his heart leaping into his throat. His brain tried to work faster as his lungs squeezed tight, making it even harder for him to get a breath in.
The men walked out into the opening, the light from the moon making their black clothes and weapons seem something like stepping out of a comic book.
Jex was going bonkers without oxygen in his brain.
As one, the six men walked another step and froze, looking at him. Three held guns, one—the biggest, Jex was pretty confident he was the leader, had that presence—a rifle of some sort. This looked like a scene from Grand Thief Auto. A medium height, fat, bold man held a shotgun—at least it looked like one—and another, really tall and lean guy, who kinda reminded Jex of a lamp post, had a handgun. Again, he couldn’t tell what type or anything, and he couldn’t be sure he would if he could see past a shadowy outline.
The other three were holding…well, one held a bat. The men had called him BB, which Jex was certain meant Baby Face, since he looked like he was about twelve. His bat sparkled in the night, so Jex assumed it was metal, which was gonna hurt, since he was almost positive they weren’t going to kill him. The other two had knives. The thinness of them and the fact that the tip wasn’t all that far from their hands confirmed that fact more than anything. Those two men were average, one dark haired and one light.
His chest still hurt as his lungs worked, and his mind was still too fucked-up from the fall to think of anything. It was blank, nearly calm, and yet, the riot of facts spun so fast, he wasn’t convinced if it mattered at all what those men were carrying because he was going to pass out soon.
A howl screamed through the air, making the hairs on the back of Jex’s neck stand up.
A shudder went through him as a man took a step toward him. Jex’s legs shook as he tried to get them on the ground. He wasn’t going to just let them take him—not when he’d gone through this much pain getting away.
“Ah, mates, I think he’s trying to get up,” a man Jex surnamed Bold Blob said, his voice like a crack in a glass, something that tittered on the edge of shattering.
“Looks to me like he’s ‘bout to pass out,” a light-haired average man said.
“Shut it, Jeff, ya dick head. We can all see that,” Lamp Post said.
Jex swayed even though he was nearly sitting. His feet tried to move, and yet they wouldn’t. He couldn’t move. His body killed, hurt like fucking hell, his lungs seizing with each gasp of breath he took. These arsehole fuckwits were going to take him back. Great.
The men walked close and Jex’s body clenched with the need to move. His heartbeat doubled in time with the acknowledgement that he was going to meet pain with this encounter. There was no way men like these wouldn’t want to take the humiliation of losing him out on Jex.
A deep growl echoed through the small clearing, and sounded as if it came from right beside Jex. Even as his head moved around, he knew he wasn’t going to see anything. The men froze, looking around themselves, their weapons in their hands, moving up, more for protection than to look menacing.
The deep growl rumbled again and a shot of adrenaline sparked through Jex’s body, causing a hard rush of energy that got him onto his feet in a heartbeat. Yet, he didn’t move. His heart beat harder as he looked around with the other men, searching for the beast that made that deep sound.
There were two seconds of silence in the air, Jex and the men still looking around, waiting for something to happen. Jex’s heart beat in his throat due to the rush of energy. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling—only that his body was alive and he could run a mile without a sweat, though he knew his body would pass out if he tried. His lungs still burned softly with each breath he took. His head still swam and his legs wobbled. He needed to lie down and maybe enjoy a bit of a nap, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen, not now.
“Nothing,” Leader said, then laughed nervously. “It’s nothing, men. Let’s do this and get back to the cabin.” The rest laughed with him, their tone seemingly free of anything, like a joke they’d just brushed off because the boss said so. Dick-headed morons.
Then they advanced again and Jex still couldn’t move. He wasn’t thinking about the beast that growled as if he was a panther or a bear. He wasn’t thinking about the fact that he was about to be fucked up by men who hated his father—or did they—and wanted more money than his punk arse was worth. At least his father would pay. That was a bonus in this fucked thing.
A roar deafened Jex’s ears as the beast entered the clearing. Jex couldn’t see anything at all as the sound vibrated through his body, causing fear to pierce his very soul, trailed by goosebumps that pricked his skin so fast, he shuddered. The blood in his body decided to heat up like an oven and push into his cock, making him hard so fast, he ached from the awkward position in which his cock had originally been stuffed in his jeans.
Jex had always had this problem, and he wasn’t sure why that was, but fear turned him on. He’d realised this with his first real crush—Dutch, who wasn’t that big of a man, though taller than Jex by a few inches, and who happened to have been only fourteen years old at the time. Yet, the chap stood still, and fear rolled off him. It had taken a long time, even after he learnt that the guy was a hired killer and worked for his dad, but still it was something more than the person.
Jex had learnt a few things, but especially he knew this from watching a video with one of his old friends from the school he was attending at that time—he never remembered their names, not after he was forced to leave them behind. The video was a fetish one about rape, and even though it had been heterosexual, Jex had only seen the way the rapist’s hand held down the woman by her neck. Later that night, Jex, with his palm wrapped around his dick, could only think of heat behind him, holding him down and fucking the life outta him.
That fantasy never left him, but became stronger. It was his reason for liking Dutch. When Jex realised it, the man himself drifted out of his mind, but not the need for his lover to hold him captive.

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