Monday, April 5, 2010
Angel vs. Demon Romance: Black Dogs and Rebel Roses
Don't say I didn't warn you...
I am deep in working on the second book in the Psyche's Gate series, tentatively titled Nephil's Curse, and I'm in for the picky author long-haul. Like it's foremother (er, yeah, foremother), I am piecing it together scene by scene, snippet by snippet, section by onerous section. Far more complicated, more character-heavy, and demanding even more research, this may be the most fabulously tiring work I will ever complete. Worth every sweat-and-tears inducing minute, but how to take a well-deserved breather?
Soooo...in order to break up the "mental constipation" that occurs in working on the sequel, I have taken a break and am nearing the completion of a new tale, working title Black Dogs and Rebel Roses. This novella-length story focuses on two major characters from the in-the-works Nephil's Curse: Skriker, a tattooed Billy Idol-esque half-demon punk who hunts his own kind, and Rose, Alexius and Psyche's Nephil (half angel half human) daughter, who has also become a fierce hunter of the evils-that-dwell-in-the-darkness.
Giving too much away? Hey, I warned ya with those little red letters up there!
I'm sure that it's pretty obvious what happens: half-demon boy meets half-angel girl. Half-demon boy falls crazy in love with half-angel girl without realizing what she is (and she ain't tellin' him outright!). Half-demon boy and half-angel girl stumble on the same vampyre hunt and start out as rivals. Half-demon boy and half-angel girl finally hook up and fuck each other's brains out, only to seriously PISS OFF half-angel girl's daddy (and we all know what HE'S like!). Unlike Psyche's Gate and the books that will follow it, which I consider less "romance" and more "urban fantasy", I have chosen to write this story with my ebook publisher's (Liquid Silver Books) erotic fiction readers specifically in mind, piling on the descriptive hot hot (did I say HOT?) sex, indulging myself in a way that I could not do with my (yet to be announced) print publisher and my full-length novels.
But I also wanted to "keep it real" so to speak--sure the sex (ahem... oral insanity doggie style ass-smackin' dirty talkin' good times) is rollicking awesomeness, but I DO have to keep these characters on the right track and as believeable as possible, as I work so hard to do with everything I write. I wanted to showcase a little "in between" period--a snapshot of what went on between Psyche's Gate and the forthcoming Nephil's Curse.
More specifically, Black Dogs and Rebel Roses focuses on how Rose and Skriker stumbled on each other and formed a powerful, albeit unusual, alliance and romantic bond that will set incredible events in motion in the full-length novel series. I am giving the reader a little "sneak peek" of these characters, their personalities, and their histories--the hope is that my newly-won fans will fall in love with this pair and look forward to the continuing story ahead!
I had quite a challenge ahead of me: how does one write a fun little story which focuses on such an unlikely romance between two would-be ancestral enemies?
For one thing, in my mind, it seems that a demon (or, in this case, a Halfling) would be able to sense the angel in his beautiful companion. And naturally this would scare the shit out of him, like a prey animal scenting its natural predator, even though he doesn't yet know what his new conquest "is" or why that anxiety is there. So I am working to make Skriker more or less "fragmented" between this innate instinctual fear and the new crazy love he is experiencing when he teams up with Rose.
There is not actually much mythology surrounding an angel-and-demon hookup. So I had to take the separate nephilim and half-demon myths and Play-Doh them into my own thing, adding dashes of reference to the origins of Hell and the difference between a Fallen Angel (like Lucifer) and a True Native (a pure demon, born directly of the fires of Hell). Sometimes it's hard for me to avoid being a stickler for the mythological "rules" , so to speak, so it's been fun allowing myself that flexibility.
The end result I am aiming for is a tale that manages to be incredibly steamy, gruesome, beautiful, and hilarious all at the same time.
So get ready, ladies (and gents), and clear the dance floor. This pair is gonna collide and it ain't gonna be pretty (but, oh, mama, will it ever be FUN).
Just for shits n' giggles, here's a rough excerpt from Black Dogs and Rebel Roses:
Skriker barreled around the corner and slammed full force into a young woman.
They were both knocked to the hard concrete floor; Skriker huffed as he landed on his ass, his shotgun clattering to the floor. The girl flew back and hit the floor with a grunt; the pistol she had been holding flew from her grasp and hit the nearby wall. Both of them scrambled for their weapons and simultaneously jerked upright, aiming at one another with deadly precision.
Skriker got his first good look at her, and his heart just about jumped into his throat.
She sat there, only a few feet from him, staring him down with a fierce malice and she was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. Even from this position he could see that she was very tall and had a body that just about knocked him out. Her hair was dark and wild, flowing in lush curls and waves to the small of her back in a heavy exotic drape. The eyes that stared him down from under dark perfectly-arched brows were breathtaking: two opposing colors, the right jewel blue like a bright sapphire, the left dark brown and penetrating, almost bottomless. Beneath her eyes, traversing diagonally down each of her finely molded cheeks, was a trio of thin, livid pink scars that cut from temple to chin; Skriker found these scars stunningly sexy on such a beautiful face, making her appear wilder and stronger, fiercer.
And there was something about her that went beyond the physical, a shimmering aura that briefly tinted her skin and eyes and wild curling hair with an alluring mystical light and then was gone. The demon in him, for a reason he could not yet define, felt a twitching rustle of fear.
The young woman was breathing heavily, her nostrils flaring, her lush lips trembling. The scars on her cheeks gleamed faintly.
“Who are you?” she hissed. Her voice rattled off the walls around them. Skriker leaned forward, his lips twisting into a playful smirk.
“Fuck who I am. Who are you?”
She spat in his direction, showing beautiful teeth like mother-of-pearl. She climbed to her feet and stood over him, still aiming her weapon, her arm as sturdy, as unflinching, as cut glass. She drew to her full height and he could not help but gawk at her: she was pure curvaceous muscle, long, lean and visibly mean. She wore black leather pants that molded to her legs and high shapely ass like a second skin. Knee-high combat boots stained with dirt, old blood and oil. Wrist-to-elbow vambraces made of thick tooled motorcycle leather. A sleeveless body-hugging jerkin made of soft black suede. Her breasts were amazing. Skriker felt a very inconvenient stirring in his loins, like feathers whispering over his junk.
The young woman backed slowly away from him, her gun still aimed with deadly precision.
“Don’t follow me,” she snarled, and then she was gone like a shadow, running past him and down the opposite hallway.
Skriker sat there for a moment, dazed. He slowly lowered his rifle and blinked, wondering if he had just imagined her, if she had been some incredible vision produced by his raging libido. He exhaled tremblingly, licking his lips.
After a moment he had jumped to his feet and run on, hot on her trail, his footfalls echoing through the dark moldering corridors of the long-abandoned school.
© 2010 Danielle D. Smith
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