Lovers' Spats (The Souls of the Fey)
True, we do get along for the most part, but of course we argue. lol As all writers and artists know, inspiration comes from everywhere. I use past situations of my own or I'll catch an argument out in public and cast my own story with my own characters into the roles. Love scenes are awesome, but when I edit I find myself the most intrigued by the lovers' spats. So I thought I'd use the following week to post some of those on my blog each day, just for the entertainment value. Feel free to play along on your own blog if you'd like. I enjoy reading them!
My first scene is from The Souls of the Fey between my characters Sarah and Asku. The language is a little older than my YA novels and you'll probably find this book has more romance and heat in the scenes than my others. I guess I was just feeling the sharp claws of love when I wrote it. ;-)
He crooked a finger. "Come, let's have it out, and be done with it."
She turned away, but he yanked her around to face him. "You never did give a damn about me, did you?" she asked.
"Stop that." He shook his head sadly. "Even now, to look at you feels wrong."
"Why? Because I'm not what you want."
"Wanting and needing are different things."
"I know that."
"Do you?" He raised his brow. "Tell me what you want of me and then tell me what you need of me."
She fell silent. Was there a difference in her mind between the two? She wanted him as much as she needed him, didn't she?
"The hate. Let's start there," he said softly.
With a jerk, she pulled from him. He caught every crumb of her emotions. "You take. And when you do, you take everything of me. I have nothing left so I go numb. No, I hate, for I don't want to feel anything. Then I start a fight because I need you to feel something. You've built walls all around you and I thought I could break through them, that I would be the one to pull down the gray, but it's not so. You're only cold and untouchable and not mine."
He took her arm again, squeezed. "I will always be yours. But until you can feel without a shove, I am untouchable. And you can hate me until hell freezes over if it makes you feel something."
"Hell has frozen over," she spat out. "It stands before me, rigid, and I'm the one shattered."
"I am not what you need, Sarah." He shook her arm, making her look at him. "I am not what you need. I will always be a part of that nightmare and when it ends, if I were to stand before you still, husband, lover, you would hate me far worse than you do now. And your hate would grow, a corrupt vine, choking any love I had for you."
He laid his hand gently on her cheek. "We are not meant to be. Not like that."
"Then how are we meant to be? What is there here for us?"
"Friendship," he said. "If I could take back what I did, I would, but only because it was wrong and selfish and very unmanly. I don't want to take it back though, for it was what I wanted. Yet certainly not what either one of us needed. Can you deny that? Can you tell me what passed between us does not link into the shame of that day? I am nothing more to you than the good side of death and violence. A memory you can look upon, for your husband's turns into a nightmare."
He flicked the ruffled lace at her throat. "This black? Who do you mourn for, Sarah? Your husband or yourself?"
"I hate you for this!" She pulled backward so fast she stumbled. "You make me see what I am," she continued as he steadied her, "and I hate you for that."
"There is a man far removed from this nightmare who can help you. I am not that man." His face was inches from her own, those black eyes moist and red tinged. "I am the tail end of that twisted storm that rages in you. I need you to love me for the man I am, not hate me for the man I had to be. Friendship. That's what I need from you. Will you give me that?"