I hope readers will enjoy the excerpt of "Guardian." In this sample, Anna is opening up to Leon, explaining a little to him why she is the way she is. When writing “Guardian,” I really wanted to keep my vampires as human as possible, but still have hints of those tantalising traits. This story is set in a world where vampires are openly mixing in society, but they're under heavy restrictions and are forced to take sedating medication. Every vampire is assigned a human guardian, who is kind of like a parole officer. The story revolves around Anna. She falls in love with her guardian, but he's not all that he seems.
When I first thought about what it would be like if we had vampires living among us - how would we control them and what would happen if they were all treated like criminals, and forced to have human guardians to monitor them - I thought it would make a great story to see through the eyes of a young female vampire. I wanted her to be a kickass vampire, but also vulnerable. I hope that readers can relate to Anna, in the sense that she struggles with who she is and her intense impulses, which we all have to deal with in one way or another, and her struggle to find happiness with one whom she loves and trusts.
GUARDIAN
An Excerpt
By
Elita Daniels
Anna didn't stay with them while they had their dinner. She went up to her room and stood at her window, looking out. She was in a black mood. She wanted to be more than an animal. She lay on the bed, her hair spread over the pillow. She didn't know how long she had been lying here in a trance, when the door opened and Leon came in. He stood looking at her blankly. She knew he couldn't see her properly in the dark. She flipped back the bed covers for him and said, “Shut the door.”
He closed it quietly, and then got in bed beside her. She felt his hand touching her body, feeling for her face. She could see him perfectly. He leaned over, his breath on her cheek. She knew he wanted to kiss her on the lips. She closed her eyes as he kissed her softly.
She had wanted to keep herself separate from him, but as he groped in among her clothing, the fury of passion was up, and pressure was on her to give way to it. She glued her mouth to his and sucked at his tongue. She had one hand behind his neck, and with the other, she unbuttoned his pants, kissing and sucking at his tongue all the while. He was also busy finding his way under her clothes. He got on her and, thrusting one of his thighs between hers, opened them to make way for himself. The urgency of his friction heightened their ecstatic pleasure, which he provoked with repeated kisses. His wet mouth went over her face and neck, breathing against her ear, hot and rapid.
Her heated senses were in a disorder that made all her cries falter into half-fetched sighs. He was more silent, but soon his broken breathing, faltering sighs, and impetuous thrusts all announced that the melt-away moment was coming. She could see he forced himself to let go and, stretching an arm out, he gripped one of her hands and held it. Fired beyond bearing, she joined with him as he died away in her arms.
Then he lay down beside her. She turned her back to him and rested her face on the cool pillow whilst his arm was round her, his head against her shoulder. She felt his lips at the back of her neck; he buried his face in her hair, settling in.
“What are you doing?” she asked, turning her head.
“I want to be close to you,” he said.
“I'm not lying in bed all night.”
“Just let me hold you a while.”
She turned back over and let him stay close behind her. His stillness was peaceful. She found herself relaxing into him and the bed. She thought he was asleep, when he spoke softly.
“What happened to you? Why did you turn out this way?”
She stirred slightly under his arm. “What way?”
“You've been through a lot for someone so young. How did it happen? Was it forced on you?” As he spoke, he caressed her hand and arm with his fingers.
“I asked him to do it,” she said.
“Why would you do that?”
“I don't know. I wanted to be closer to him. I didn't know he could turn me. It wasn't like anything I had felt before. It was the most intense sensation of pain. But somehow, I wanted it to be that way. Then I got scared. I didn't want to go to hospital. I didn't want to have to tell them what had happened. And I didn't want him to get into any sort of trouble.
“I thought I was going to bleed to death. There was so much blood. He told me it would stop soon, which it did. I felt strange and asked him to take me home. I curled in bed for several hours. I knew what was happening, but I couldn't believe it was happening to me. I stumbled into the bathroom and collapsed at the sink. I don't know if it was ecstasy or agony. The pain wasn't the same as any injury. It was like everything was happening too fast in my body and it was hurting because of it. For a long time, I lay on the floor.
“Just when I thought I couldn't take any more and would have to call an ambulance, it began to ease off. I wasn't able to conceal what had happened for very long and I was hauled off to Stanton. Then I hated him for doing it to me.”
“Do you think he knew?”
“I don't know. He had to have known what would happen, but maybe not. I hate that place, and there are so many just the same. When you first 'turn,' you already feel out of touch with reality, and the last grasp you have on humanity, they seem to want to take away. The bastards treat you as if you can't feel pain. I felt everything. But it's strange. Knowing there's no permanent damage, the meaning of pain has changed; it doesn't bother me as much.
“It was the humiliation, the disrespect. They don't care if you're scared or disgusted. You're just a piece of meat without rights. I'm sick of all the poking and prying. I feel as if I've got nothing left to myself, as if I'm not fully intact. Do you think we can die from old age?”
“It's hard to determine, considering you show no signs of aging, but who's to say there isn't still a biological clock which will shut down at a certain point? We just don't know. That's one of the things we're trying to work out. I think you are a beautiful creature. You could do anything. You shouldn't waste yourself. I just wish I could help make things better for you – fairer for you.”
In the grasp of his hand, her own seemed to feel soft and silken; she was conscious of him holding it tenderly.
“You have a beautiful mouth,” she told him.
She felt him smile. “Thank you.”
“Leon?”
“Hmm?”
“You don't have to go just yet.” She held his arm around her, to keep him from drawing away. She took his hand and pressed it to her belly. She could not imagine falling in love with a man. Desiring him, absolutely, but not loving him.
For the past eight years, she had never fallen asleep at night. She awoke with a start. She hadn't closed the shutters; she would have had a nasty shock if she had slept through to morning. Fortunately, Leon had closed them. She turned over to see if he was still on the other side. He was gone.
http://www.amazon.com/Guardian-ebook
About The Author
The idea of exploring fascinating characters and great stories has always captivated me: working with a small team of people who get excited over the same project, the story, the cover design, the videos, and everything else that goes into bringing a book to life. It's been a pleasure to work with my friends and family, and all of you who have supported me along the way. We still have a long way to go, but I'm looking forward to it!
I had dabbled a bit with story writing for years, but it wasn't until I wrote a screenplay for a competition, from which I received some excellent encouragement, that I decided to try my hand at a novel. But I had no story. I did, however, have a beautiful little scene in my mind of mother and son running from something or someone. As I began to get excited and ask myself more questions, a story began to unfold. Then my beloved dog, which I had loved and looked after for over thirteen years, died in my hands, and my world went black. Not only for the loss of him, but the sudden revelation of mortality. I thought of all my love
d ones, the fragility of life, and how I could not bear to lose any one of them. Here, a silhouette of a story was taking shape.
It wasn't until I came across a picture on the internet of a dark-haired young man who was devastatingly beautiful that my story rapidly came together. I did some research and discovered he was a character from Christopher Paolini's Eragon, portrayed by Garrett Hedlund. It was decided instantly. I wanted more of him. All the feelings impressed on me when I looked at him I put down on paper. And this fantastic story came alive, with characters so real I couldn't stop them from speaking in my mind, even at night when trying to sleep.
With the help of my husband (putting up with my virtual love affair with Garrett Hedlund), the help of my family and friends, and my beautiful dark-haired muse, an awesome story came into being. It was a wonderfully therapeutic, exciting experience and I look forward to many more great stories!
~Elita
http://elitadaniels.com/
Elita Daniels' Books on Amazon
THE FOURTH BRIDE
An inspired short
By
Carole Gill
He had always wanted me. I was his for my entire life and did not know it.
Or perhaps I did in my dreams. Dreams that went back so far I could almost recall his voice speaking to me of undying love … or was it life?
“You will want for nothing; everything you wish shall be yours. ... I will wait...”
And he did, too, for the longest time.
In between the fanciful dreams, I grew up. When I was seventeen, I eloped with a young man.
We boarded a ship bound for Italy. The ship’s captain married us. Edward had arranged it. I recall the service – joyful and full of light and flowers, a wedding breakfast and congratulations. We spent the day on deck, gazing out at the sea, watching the sunlight shimmering upon it. And when the sun sank into the horizon, we dressed for dinner.
When night fell and we were alone, I opened myself to him in our cabin. I, the new bride, the young woman who desired love and romance and my husband’s heart, did wish to know what love was like, but he was ill. Something had seized him and sickened him. At first, I thought it seasickness, but when he didn’t get better and grew more pale and listless, I called for the ship’s doctor.
“Your husband is quite ill, Madame. The captain is docking at Bilbao, in Spain. I will accompany you to the hospital there.”
He was taken to the hospital, which was not far from the dock. I so wanted to go with him, but I was told to wait outside. The doctor returned later. I knew from the expression on his face that my worst fears were realized. “Señora, he is gone. I am sorry; it is a fever of unknown origin and he has passed from this world.”
I laughed, oh yes I did, a crazed cackle and then I was silent. I stared at faces and saw that people were speaking to me, but I could not hear a word!
Until... “They will need to make arrangements. I can help. ... Will you be wishing to have the body sent on...?”
I broke down and it was decided that he would be buried. Mercifully, there would be no autopsy.
I remember very little of what happened after this, although I do remember a priest with a gentle face and a voice to match. “I speak English...” I sat and listened as he spoke. Such comforting words, words with lightness and good in them, words from the Bible said to me to ease my anguish. Still, in the last analysis, they were only words and nothing else. For it was not in this well-meaning priest’s power to return my husband to me.
He saw my distress. “I am sorry for your loss...”
Yes, death ... that implacable barrier, that great abyss that we all slip into when our lives are ended – death had come to take my love from me.
They were kind, these people in Bilbao. I was taken to a modest cottage; a couple known to the priest took me there. Their English was very poor, but kindness has a language of its own. I was shown to a small room, where it was made plain to me, through pats and smiles, that I could stay as long as I liked.
The woman gestured toward her mouth and nodded. She wanted me to eat.
I shook my head, but then, to please her, I did take some bread.
She had me follow her into a small room. The curtain was drawn and the room, bathed in shadow, had a kind of eerie quiet to it. Actually, I liked it. I’d have preferred the unremitting dark of the grave, though – my grave, because I no longer wished to live.
I hadn’t realized how much I had loved Edward, but I had. At last, amid the grief and shock, I realized I must write to my parents. I would do that when I awoke. Suddenly weary, I couldn’t fight the overpowering desire to sleep; it was almost as though I had been drugged.
“Come to me; you are mine now...Dia...!”
The command again; that voice I hadn’t remembered for so long had returned. Only now, there were different circumstances. I was on my own and in mourning. Never had I been more vulnerable, as though I had no will of my own.
Dia, you will be brought to me....
And so a journey began, one I recall very little of. I do remember stepping out into the night, leaving the kind haven because he was willing it. I know now it was Dracula.
A carriage waited outside. I could barely make out the figure of a man. He helped me inside. I think I nodded. There was actually comfort in my having no will of my own.
“Sit back.”
His voice was accented, but I didn’t notice – not then.
I sat and the carriage lurched forward. Then, I slept. In fact, that seemed to be all that I did – sleeping and eating. Sometime later, a man’s face peered into mine. A kindly face, but serious with intent. “Eat,” he said.
And so I did, like a little puppet given a command that I obeyed.
“We are going now...”
Yes, we were stepping from one carriage into another carriage and onto a train and another, sometimes sitting on benches in between, waiting – but waiting for what?
I heard whistles and voices speaking in languages that I did not understand.
“Sleep.”
Yes, of course. The puppet slept and ate when told to. I finally began to wake up on the fourth day of this strange time, this journey of mine.
I know now it was indeed a journey that lasted four days, counting the nights spent in inns. I can recall nothing of those nights, just whispers in dark rooms and the sound of doors closing and someone coming in to see me, a sliver of light, and then darkness.
“Yes, you sleep.”
And dream, too.
There were dreams; never did I have more frequent or more vivid ones. I dreamed of a man standing in shadow. I couldn’t see his face, only his eyes, which burned with a great intensity.
“Come to me...!”
And so I did.
“Borgo Pass!”
I heard the words that I shall remember forever and ever...words that fixed my fate, stamping it into an irrevocable finality.
“You will soon be home.”
Home? A young foreign-looking man sat beside me in a carriage. “It is all right, Miss. You are nearly there.”
It was night when I looked out to see a strange-looking world. There, in the light of a full moon, trees twisted into skeletal hands reaching out, but for what? For me?
“The moon is leading us...it is a good omen.” Once again, I gazed out the window. “There!” he cried. “Look!”
I did, and gasped, for we were approaching a great castle, dark and ominous-looking, with sinister spires and broken battlements. It looked like something out of a dark fairy tale!
“A castle!” I gasped.
My companion said nothing after that; he only spoke after the carriage jerked to a stop and he stepped out. “You are home...”
I did not question him, even in my own mind. Instead, I rose on trembling legs. He helped me out, and as I stepped onto the rubble-strewn entranceway, the great doors opened and a figure appeared.
If I was expecting a servant, I did not see one. Instead, I saw a d
istinguished-looking man, tall and clean-shaven but for a white moustache. He was holding a lamp. "Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own free will!" He didn’t move, not until I stepped inside, whereupon he moved toward me, his hand reaching for mine. “Miss Dia.”
Suddenly, I noticed his eyes. There flashed a fearful light there, but only for a moment. “I am Dracula,” he said. “And I have waited for this moment for so long.”
~ ~ * ~ ~
Suddenly, my host moved to stand in front of me. If I had thought him distinguished-looking before, I now found he looked so horrible that I nearly cried out. I am certain I backed away. How had I not seen that his ears were pointed?
He raised one hand as if to comfort me. That was when I noticed his fingernails looked like talons.
He spoke, I think to distract me, for I am certain my face gave me away. “Miss Dia, permit me to show you to your room, for you must be weary.”
I was not clear in my thinking. If I had been confused for most of my journey, I was still feeling dazed because I followed obediently behind him.
As we climbed the staircase, I watched the light from his lamp flicker along the wall as his tall slender shadow moved along with it.
“It is this way,” he said as he motioned me toward the corridor. Down we went until he at last opened a door. The room was well lit and a welcome change from the cold, fireless hall below. “I have had a supper laid out for you. I hope it is of your liking.”
“Thank you....”
“You will sleep through here...”
Once again, he motioned for me to follow him. We passed through a small room and emerged into the bedchamber. It was handsomely furnished and I was relieved to see a fire burned within the great fireplace.
“Please, refresh yourself and then dine...” I hesitated and he smiled. “Perhaps you are too tired to eat?”
Vampires Romance to Rippers an Anthology of Tasty Stories Page 3
