The Unedited WIP Files: Deadlock

Friday needs something to liven it up, so I think I’m going to post random (unedited) snippets from now on…or whenever I remember.  (Ha!)

Today I asked twitter what I should post.  This is not unusual, as I believe in making most of my  major life decisions via twitter vote.  (Kidding. Maybe.)  The consensus pointed to Deadlock, so here is a tiny, pre-edits snippet of our hero and heroine. In a kitchen.  Because if there’s one theme in Southern Arcana, it’s, “Someone better be cooking us good food soon!”

(And if you skip to the bottom, you can decide what I’ll post next week.)

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Carmen woke in a bed, fully clothed, with only moonlight shining through the blinds. The bed creaked as she sat and swung her bare feet over the edge of the mattress.

Her stomach growled angrily, and she bit her tongue to keep from echoing the sound as she rose and crept across the floor. Alec was probably sleeping, but she could rummage in the refrigerator and find something.

Except when she opened the door and stepped into the hallway, Alec stood at the end of it wearing a pair of beat-up jeans and nothing else. “Heard you moving around. Need some food?”

“I, uh…” Carmen shook herself and focused her eyes on his face instead of his bare chest. “Food. I can get it.”

He studied her face, then gestured toward the other end of the hall. “Kitchen’s down there. I’ll be right out.”

She walked to the kitchen, her face flaming. After the way she’d stared, he was undoubtedly going to put on a shirt to spare himself her drooling. Which was ridiculous, because she’d seen plenty of hot, naked men in her time.

Okay, she’d seen a few.

His voice came from behind her before she realized he’d returned, soft and amused. “I’m not much of a cook, unless you want me to fire up the grill, which I will. It’s never too late for steak.”

What he’d put on didn’t qualify as a shirt. A thin white cotton undershirt stretched across his chest and left his shoulders bare. “I can handle it, if you don’t mind me messing around in your kitchen.”

“You feel up to that? Your aura’s still…” He cleared his throat. “Fuck, I don’t know. You feel like a new wolf, but a new wolf as wound up as you were earlier would have shifted.”

“I feel all right.” Embarrassed and worried that she’d practically fallen asleep in the lap of a man she didn’t know. Mortified that, even now, with her stomach rumbling and a million questions whirling in her mind, she couldn’t stop her gaze from tracing the lines of his body.

“It’s natural.” He caught her eyes and held them, an oddly compelling power in his gaze. “All of it. Whatever you’re feeling. New wolves sleep a lot, and when they’re not sleeping it’s pretty much an even split between food, fighting and fu—” His gaze jumped away, and flustered discomfort tickled over her skin. “Sex,” he said, voice a little choked. “The basic three.”

Oh God. “I don’t feel different, not like I did earlier,” she explained, trying desperately to keep her carnal interest hidden. “The world’s not as loud or bright, just…” Smaller. It had shrunk to the size of his kitchen, to the scant space between them, and she had to distract herself. “What should I cook? What do you like?”

“Food.” He took a cautious step forward, as if she was a wild creature he was trying not to startle. “I’m not picky. Make something you like.”

His proximity made her want to run—not out of fear, but in anticipation of another chase. She turned abruptly and opened the refrigerator. “Maybe just sandwiches or something.” The sooner she got away from him, the better.

“I think I’ve got some bread. Want something to drink?”

“Please.” It came out huskier than she intended, almost suggestive.

The heavy anticipation in the kitchen sharpened. “Beer?”

It was the only beverage in the refrigerator besides an empty plastic jug that had once held milk. “I’ve got it.” She lifted two bottles and held them out.

He accepted them both, but tilted his head. “I think I have some Coke in the garage, if you want that instead. And a few cases of the shit Kat likes to drink that looks like antifreeze.”

Whatever that was, it didn’t sound appetizing. “Beer’s fine.”

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If you want to leave a vote for what you’d like to see a snippet of next week, you might be able to overrule twitter!