So I'm doing something I haven't done in quite sometime. I'm going to start posting snippets of current works in progress each week. They will be 600 words or less and may range in tone from tension filled to funny to down right sexy. But above all they are snippets - a mere taste of what is brewing in my head on any given Sunday. Enjoy this week's peek of a mature couple who may just get a second chance at love...if they can find a common ground. Meet Sedna and her stubborn mate, Denali.
Snippet:
“I’m just not your average nanny. I’m not just your average nanny.” Sedna Garcia repeated the mantra as the door bell continued to echo through the large hunting lodge which had been her home for the past thirty years. “I won’t be tossed out on my ear by the new Alpha. He will need me to keep the cubs in line. Imnek promised to take care of me.”
Pack-less except for the Alpha and his family it had been her biggest fear since her mate had rejected her, leaving her to age as a human. Now approaching sixty - she still retained the strength of a bear shifter, but none of their longevity. With nothing more than the Nanurark's oprhaned cubs who need me. Even with her diluted shifter ears she could hear Atka, the oldest of the Imnek’s adopted children, stirring in his bed. “Dammit. I hoped he’d sleep longer.”
But since the death of Alpha Imnek and his mate, Nukka, the boy’s initial edginess had returned. Wiping her hands on the white apron she’d wrapped around her waist to protect her jeans and pink sweater while readying breakfast for her charges, she approached the door with trepidation. She needed to get this meeting out of the way before Atka wandered downstairs to challenge the male encrouching on what he now considered his territory. At sixteen the boy was wild and unpredictable and the last thing she needed was him attacking the new Alpha. She barely glanced at the mirror next to the door to assure she was decent, before pulling it open.
With his back to her, all Sedna could make out of the male in the faint light spilling from the house was a dark figure with silvered hair. A trick of the weak lighting and shadows she figured. Most shifters mated in their thirties and retained their youthful appearance until they died. He was probably blond like some of the polar bear sifters who’d relocated to the wilds of Alaska.
“May I help you?” The man stiffened at her voice, but didn’t turn. She continued to hold the handle of the door, her stomach suddenly clenching with dread as he rolled his shoulders in an all too familiar way. There was something about the broad back and the way the man held himself. It was as if she were looking at a hazy photo of the man she’d lost. But that couldn’t be right. The last she’d heard Denali Yazzie had his own BDSM club in Anchorage and was living the high life with his human submissives - sating a hunger he’d never willingly share with her.
She tried to push the notion away. Many men rolled their shoulders - it wasn't an trait unique to Denali. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. Then as if in slow motion the male turned around. Her heart sped up then stopped as the last man she’d expected to ever see again shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather bomber jacket. His dark eyes devoured her and a long buried ember burst to flame inside her. “Hello, Sedna.”
Her world stopped as his words triggered the memory of the last time they'd argued before he'd left.
It will never work between us, Sedna. I will never willingly mate a hybrid like you.
Resentment pushed her lust aside. She would not give him the satisfaction of falling at his feet again. She was stronger now, no matter how kind time had been kind to him. He’d walked away from her. She wouldn’t allow him to just return to her life as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t broken her heart.
December 2013 ©Dakota Trace All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.
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