Hi, everyone! If you follow the blog, you already know that WIP Wednesday is where I share an excerpt of something I’m working on and I invite you to do the same in the comments. I usually do this on the first Wednesday of every month, but this month got a little delayed. 🙂

Please refrain from critiquing others’ work, because we’re usually sharing stuff that’s not even ready for critique. However, a friendly word is always welcome and is good writer karma. I love seeing what everyone’s up to!

This past month I continued working on The Equinox Stone, the second book in my paranormal romance trilogy. Tristan is a warrior who’s lost his memories. Val is a mage and an empath who’s known him since childhood.

 

 

Tristan looked across the courtyard at couples dancing. He asked Val, “Want to get out there with me?”

“I don’t know how to salsa. Do you?”

He stopped to consider the question, looking out at the gliding and spinning couples. “Yeah, I do.”

“You went to college in Miami,” she said. “You probably learned it at the clubs.”

When the song gave way to a slow ballad, he nudged her again. “Come on, anyone can dance to this.”

Jonathan looked over. His concern was well-intentioned, but it was beginning to annoy her. “Sure,” she said to Tristan.

He took her by the hand to lead her to the middle of the courtyard. She stopped and tugged on his hand. “How about over there?” She pointed to the outside edge of the paved stones. He nodded, letting her take him to a spot not far from the building where she felt less conspicuous. She reached up to put my hand on his shoulder. “You’re a lot taller than me.”

“And yet we’re perfect together.” His low, teasing voice sent heat straight right to her core as his large hand came to rest in the middle of her lower back, drawing her closer to him than she’d expected. He clasped her other hand in his.

“I haven’t done this for a while,” she told him. “But you showed me how in Cairo.” He perked up, the way he always did when she talked about their shared past. She added, “I was just a kid.” She’d been old enough, though, to love being in his arms.

“I bet you were adorable.”

“Not many people liked me,” she said. “I’m not just an empath from my mom, but also my father’s mother. So I’m really emotional, and I was even more emotional then. I’d cry a lot. Nobody likes that.”

“Well yeah, it makes people worry about you,” Tristan said. “But—”

“No,” she interrupted him. “It disgusts people.”

“That can’t be true of everyone,” Tristan said, his voice quiet.

She was being childish now, bringing up those old wounds. “Most adults are better.”

When the song ended, he brought his face close to hers to murmur, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

His passion and affection—not just a spark, but steady and bright—heated her body and soul. He leaned in and his lips briefly covered hers. She took in a quick breath and her heart beat wildly, a disproportionate response to such a gentle kiss, like a breeze that triggers a tsunami.

She shouldn’t be doing this. Nothing had changed. He still didn’t know who he was. She pulled away.

His eyes clouded with disappointment. “Was that wrong?”

A back door to the mansion, not far from them, offered a quick escape. “I—I’m sorry, I need to think.”

 

 

Share a few paragraphs or a page of what you’re working on below! Thanks so much for stopping by, and happy writing!