Hmmmm no one seemed to dig the Frank and Jade saga so here's a double shot
to make amends. For the first snippet, it seems that this is the kind of
scenario I really do well in writing - mysterious warrior to the rescue of
the woman in danger.
Oh what would you give to be the woman in his arms? LOL
I like to call this one...A chance to dream - Ardeth.
Enjoy.
~*~
"Do not be afraid," he commanded in a firm yet gentle voice. He sheathed his scimitar and spared a quick glance around the ruins of the building. He turned back to the woman, satisfied his men would keep him safe while he rescued her. She was cowering in a corner, her body curled up and trembling. At the sound of his voice, her head snapped up, eyes wild with fear and she whimpered holding out one hand as if that alone could stop his advance.
"Please...don't come any closer," she moaned and pushed herself further into her pitiful sanctuary.
He would not be deterred and despite her feeble protests, he knelt down and gathered her into his arms. She immediately started fighting him, her arms and hands flailing at him, the blows as light and as harmless as the fluttering of moth's wings. He grunted from her gentle assault, shifted her weight against him and had the sudden odd thought she weighed barely more than a child.
"Do not fight me...I am here to help you," he soothed and turned around, his dark gaze sweeping the interior, seeking the fastest and safest way out. He strode towards the door, noting with concern there was no sign of his second in command or any of his men for that matter. He felt a pinprick of fear, his warrior instincts telling him the Tuareg were not done raiding this peaceful oasis just yet. The passage of time was the new enemy he fought now.
"Then if your trying to help me, why do you hide your face?" she asked sounding disgruntled and wary. Yet her hands stopped beating on him, perhaps because she knew he spoke the truth. They curled around his neck, pulling her body closer to him as she craved the safety he represented.
"You must trust me," he muttered his reply. They darted through the doorway and out into the smoked filled courtyard, the sounds of fighting coming closer as he tried to regain his bearings, searching for his horse. Preoccupied, he almost flinched in surprise when he felt her hands come up and slowly pull down his face covering. He blinked in surprise, looked down at her face and wondered at the expression of awe glimmering in her eyes. She reached up and with her fingertips, caressed the dark crescent shaped tattoo's that adorned his skin. Despite the sounds of battle all around them, he heard...no felt her sigh of acceptance a few moments later. She snuggled closer to his body, her face pressed into the V of his robes, her breath washing over his chest and stomach, the feel of it cool and sweet. One of her arms remained curled around his neck, the other slipped below to wrap around his waist.
They had almost reached his horse when his men suddenly swarmed around him in protection. His Second led the way; the question about the woman expressed clearly in his eyes but would save it for later when they were all safe. He was about to mount and started to hand the woman over to his sub commander to hold when he heard her speak again. Almost impossible to hear but nonetheless, it was as clear as if she had leaned up and whispered in his ear.
"What is your name, my dark champion?" she asked.
He came to a standstill and hesitated only for a moment, finally glancing down at the woman he held so tenderly in his arms. Against his will he found himself drowning into the crystal blue of her eyes; that despite the bloodshed she had witnessed the purity of them had not congealed from her terror or shock. Even more amazing was he found himself answering...
"I am Ardeth Bay," he replied.
~*~
Double shot as I promised, here's a little daydream/snippet all started by the innocent comment of what Ardeth would look like in black leather and riding a Harley. Here's my version and I hope you like..
Ardeth on a Hog
~*~
It started out to be the usual sweltering hot day in the desert, the sky colored a robin's egg blue without a fluffy cloud to obscure the hot blast of the sun. The breeze, if it could be called that, came in hot gusts and swirled up small piles of sand into dust devils, making them dance and skitter across the parched earth and down the main street of town.
She came out of her small adobe home, wearing faded blue jean shorts, a tee shirt tucked up exposing her midriff in an attempt to keep her cool and her favorite pair of beat up Keds. Her long hair was already pulled up off her neck and because of the heat; its curls were going haywire and wild. Shading her face with one hand, her gaze swept over the small community and she sighed.
Just another hot day in Nowheresville USA.
She ambled off towards the main store, the only one the small town had. One store, one policeman, one garbage collector and one post office. Locals liked to tease tourists saying this was the only town where you could look down one road and see your neighbor coming out of his house at the other end. She hooked her hands in her jean pockets and as she crossed the state highway that cut the town in half, she heard a distinctive noise coming from one end of the blacktop. She stopped midway, shielded her eyes again and stared down the shimmering line of asphalt that stretched out before her like a long black snake.
The dust cloud heralding the arrival of the passing motorcyclist grew bigger and she stood transfixed, curious to see who in these parts had gotten themselves a bike.
No amend that, not just any bike but a Harley. Even at this distance, she could hear its unique whine of the engine, hear the downshift in gears, and almost imagine the puff of white smoke coming from its chrome plated tail pipes. Someone took care of this hog; she could tell and watched in anticipation as the speck grew closer.
When she could make out the owner, she had to stop herself from making the sign of the cross for protection. And for a fleeting moment, thought the devil himself had decided to pay this town a social call.
The biker down shifted the gears and brought the Harley into a gentle curve, coming off the highway and stopping in front of the general store in a small cloud of dust. First her eyes roamed over the bike, noting he was riding a custom '98 black Fembot Harley. A wry grin tugged the corner of her mouth when she noted the silver emblem of a naked woman on each side of the fuel tank and front fender. Then she couldn't help but let her eyes roam over the rider, mentally agreeing rider suited hog and vice versa.
He was tall and lean, dressed in black from head to foot as he methodically slapped off the dust from his travels with one hand. With the grace of a dancer, he swung one long leg over the bike and stood up, and she guessed he stood somewhere around six feet, give or take a few inches. He was helmetless and wore his raven colored hair long and tied back probably for practicality sakes. It was when he turned around to stare at her standing in the middle of the road that she finally did make the sign of the cross over herself and her eyes widened in surprise.
She knew all bikers wore tattoo's, it was part of the tradition - get drunk, get a tattoo. Some of them were inked from their shoulders down to their wrists in what was called a sleeve. Most had tattoo's in places nice respectable women wouldn't even dream of looking....this man had them on his face. They were two identical crescent shaped marks on his cheeks, done in dark ink and looking quite exotic against his warm olive colored skin. His face was framed by a neatly trimmed beard, he had full lips and when he threaded his fingers through his hair in an effort to get it out of his face, and she saw his forehead and the tops of his hands were marked as well.
The distant blaring of a car horn snapped her out of her trance and made him look up at the same interruption. In the space of a heart beat, she saw his eyes, colored dark and dangerous stare at her yet she stood frozen, her legs unwilling to move. To even take that first step towards him. That thought alone was ridiculous, why should she be afraid of this man? She's seen thousands of bikers before, why would this one effect her in ways she couldn't even begin to fathom?
The horn blasted again this time closer and she turned in horror, seeing the vehicle bearing down on her and realized she had no time to run. She could see the face of the driver, his mouth open and spewing out what she felt was an endless stream of curses as it became apparent she would be run over.
"Stupid idiot", she muttered to herself, "Getting killed in front of my own home."
A dark shape loomed in her peripheral vision and suddenly she was flying through the air, a hard arm thrown across her chest. An equally hard body slammed into her back as they flew through the air and out of the way of the oncoming car. Somehow they twisted and when they landed on the other side of the road, the other body took the brunt of the impact. She heard a grunt. They landed in a cloud of dust, his leather coat swirling around them like large black wings of a bird before settling over them, like a shroud and she stayed still for a few moments, trying to catch her breath.
The dust settled, the heat of the sun bearing down on them making the tentative embrace she was in feel even hotter. Then she heard his accented voice murmur in her ear, sending chills of unknown anticipation and fear race down her spine.
"If you were trying to kill yourself, I know of a far better method than getting hit by car," he drawled out slowly.
I like to call this one...A chance to dream - Ardeth.
Enjoy.
~*~
"Do not be afraid," he commanded in a firm yet gentle voice. He sheathed his scimitar and spared a quick glance around the ruins of the building. He turned back to the woman, satisfied his men would keep him safe while he rescued her. She was cowering in a corner, her body curled up and trembling. At the sound of his voice, her head snapped up, eyes wild with fear and she whimpered holding out one hand as if that alone could stop his advance.
"Please...don't come any closer," she moaned and pushed herself further into her pitiful sanctuary.
He would not be deterred and despite her feeble protests, he knelt down and gathered her into his arms. She immediately started fighting him, her arms and hands flailing at him, the blows as light and as harmless as the fluttering of moth's wings. He grunted from her gentle assault, shifted her weight against him and had the sudden odd thought she weighed barely more than a child.
"Do not fight me...I am here to help you," he soothed and turned around, his dark gaze sweeping the interior, seeking the fastest and safest way out. He strode towards the door, noting with concern there was no sign of his second in command or any of his men for that matter. He felt a pinprick of fear, his warrior instincts telling him the Tuareg were not done raiding this peaceful oasis just yet. The passage of time was the new enemy he fought now.
"Then if your trying to help me, why do you hide your face?" she asked sounding disgruntled and wary. Yet her hands stopped beating on him, perhaps because she knew he spoke the truth. They curled around his neck, pulling her body closer to him as she craved the safety he represented.
"You must trust me," he muttered his reply. They darted through the doorway and out into the smoked filled courtyard, the sounds of fighting coming closer as he tried to regain his bearings, searching for his horse. Preoccupied, he almost flinched in surprise when he felt her hands come up and slowly pull down his face covering. He blinked in surprise, looked down at her face and wondered at the expression of awe glimmering in her eyes. She reached up and with her fingertips, caressed the dark crescent shaped tattoo's that adorned his skin. Despite the sounds of battle all around them, he heard...no felt her sigh of acceptance a few moments later. She snuggled closer to his body, her face pressed into the V of his robes, her breath washing over his chest and stomach, the feel of it cool and sweet. One of her arms remained curled around his neck, the other slipped below to wrap around his waist.
They had almost reached his horse when his men suddenly swarmed around him in protection. His Second led the way; the question about the woman expressed clearly in his eyes but would save it for later when they were all safe. He was about to mount and started to hand the woman over to his sub commander to hold when he heard her speak again. Almost impossible to hear but nonetheless, it was as clear as if she had leaned up and whispered in his ear.
"What is your name, my dark champion?" she asked.
He came to a standstill and hesitated only for a moment, finally glancing down at the woman he held so tenderly in his arms. Against his will he found himself drowning into the crystal blue of her eyes; that despite the bloodshed she had witnessed the purity of them had not congealed from her terror or shock. Even more amazing was he found himself answering...
"I am Ardeth Bay," he replied.
~*~
Double shot as I promised, here's a little daydream/snippet all started by the innocent comment of what Ardeth would look like in black leather and riding a Harley. Here's my version and I hope you like..
Ardeth on a Hog
~*~
It started out to be the usual sweltering hot day in the desert, the sky colored a robin's egg blue without a fluffy cloud to obscure the hot blast of the sun. The breeze, if it could be called that, came in hot gusts and swirled up small piles of sand into dust devils, making them dance and skitter across the parched earth and down the main street of town.
She came out of her small adobe home, wearing faded blue jean shorts, a tee shirt tucked up exposing her midriff in an attempt to keep her cool and her favorite pair of beat up Keds. Her long hair was already pulled up off her neck and because of the heat; its curls were going haywire and wild. Shading her face with one hand, her gaze swept over the small community and she sighed.
Just another hot day in Nowheresville USA.
She ambled off towards the main store, the only one the small town had. One store, one policeman, one garbage collector and one post office. Locals liked to tease tourists saying this was the only town where you could look down one road and see your neighbor coming out of his house at the other end. She hooked her hands in her jean pockets and as she crossed the state highway that cut the town in half, she heard a distinctive noise coming from one end of the blacktop. She stopped midway, shielded her eyes again and stared down the shimmering line of asphalt that stretched out before her like a long black snake.
The dust cloud heralding the arrival of the passing motorcyclist grew bigger and she stood transfixed, curious to see who in these parts had gotten themselves a bike.
No amend that, not just any bike but a Harley. Even at this distance, she could hear its unique whine of the engine, hear the downshift in gears, and almost imagine the puff of white smoke coming from its chrome plated tail pipes. Someone took care of this hog; she could tell and watched in anticipation as the speck grew closer.
When she could make out the owner, she had to stop herself from making the sign of the cross for protection. And for a fleeting moment, thought the devil himself had decided to pay this town a social call.
The biker down shifted the gears and brought the Harley into a gentle curve, coming off the highway and stopping in front of the general store in a small cloud of dust. First her eyes roamed over the bike, noting he was riding a custom '98 black Fembot Harley. A wry grin tugged the corner of her mouth when she noted the silver emblem of a naked woman on each side of the fuel tank and front fender. Then she couldn't help but let her eyes roam over the rider, mentally agreeing rider suited hog and vice versa.
He was tall and lean, dressed in black from head to foot as he methodically slapped off the dust from his travels with one hand. With the grace of a dancer, he swung one long leg over the bike and stood up, and she guessed he stood somewhere around six feet, give or take a few inches. He was helmetless and wore his raven colored hair long and tied back probably for practicality sakes. It was when he turned around to stare at her standing in the middle of the road that she finally did make the sign of the cross over herself and her eyes widened in surprise.
She knew all bikers wore tattoo's, it was part of the tradition - get drunk, get a tattoo. Some of them were inked from their shoulders down to their wrists in what was called a sleeve. Most had tattoo's in places nice respectable women wouldn't even dream of looking....this man had them on his face. They were two identical crescent shaped marks on his cheeks, done in dark ink and looking quite exotic against his warm olive colored skin. His face was framed by a neatly trimmed beard, he had full lips and when he threaded his fingers through his hair in an effort to get it out of his face, and she saw his forehead and the tops of his hands were marked as well.
The distant blaring of a car horn snapped her out of her trance and made him look up at the same interruption. In the space of a heart beat, she saw his eyes, colored dark and dangerous stare at her yet she stood frozen, her legs unwilling to move. To even take that first step towards him. That thought alone was ridiculous, why should she be afraid of this man? She's seen thousands of bikers before, why would this one effect her in ways she couldn't even begin to fathom?
The horn blasted again this time closer and she turned in horror, seeing the vehicle bearing down on her and realized she had no time to run. She could see the face of the driver, his mouth open and spewing out what she felt was an endless stream of curses as it became apparent she would be run over.
"Stupid idiot", she muttered to herself, "Getting killed in front of my own home."
A dark shape loomed in her peripheral vision and suddenly she was flying through the air, a hard arm thrown across her chest. An equally hard body slammed into her back as they flew through the air and out of the way of the oncoming car. Somehow they twisted and when they landed on the other side of the road, the other body took the brunt of the impact. She heard a grunt. They landed in a cloud of dust, his leather coat swirling around them like large black wings of a bird before settling over them, like a shroud and she stayed still for a few moments, trying to catch her breath.
The dust settled, the heat of the sun bearing down on them making the tentative embrace she was in feel even hotter. Then she heard his accented voice murmur in her ear, sending chills of unknown anticipation and fear race down her spine.
"If you were trying to kill yourself, I know of a far better method than getting hit by car," he drawled out slowly.