When I completed the sixth episode of Immortal Symphony: Overture in August 2013, I had no idea how hard it would be for me to pick up the pen next time to write. I have a couple works in progress, most 1/4 to 1/2 complete, and I knew I could finish them quickly if I only focused. Problem was, focus was hard to come by.
In June 2013, I had a last minute move (as in, two weeks to find a new place, pack, move, unpack, and get settled). That delayed IS:5 and IS:6.
At the beginning of August 2013, my husband lost his job, which was scary and stress inducing. He wasn’t able to secure another job until the end of September 2013, and then we had to wait three weeks for his first paycheck.
In November 2013, Kris lost her job (the company she worked for went out of business). Also in November, my youngest cat, Dorian, became ill. Then there was Thanksgiving.
In December 2013, Dorian’s illness became worse, and we had Yule and Christmas.
In January 2014, Dorian’s illness worsened again, and we had to put him to sleep. He was my cat, my precious boy, and I was devastated. I still am. My grieving has been intense and lasting. Some days are better than others, but it’s only been three weeks since his passing, and I know it will never get better, but it will become easier. But his loss left me reeling and unable to concentrate on much of anything.
This past weekend, though, I did sit down to write to Human Rights and managed close to 3K words! :D! I finished the sixth chapter, broke 20K, and passed my halfway point in the outline. *does happy dance*
Today is a day where I am doing some typesetting to prep for a release tomorrow, and then I am going to write out the 7th chapter to Human Rights. I’d like to get that manuscript into my editor’s hands by the end of February/beginning of March. So, I leave you with a little teaser from what I wrote Saturday night!
Once we were home, I was rushed into the bathing room where Hosanna had already drawn a steaming bath. Sir Jiat removed my leash but left the fine collar around my throat.
“Into the tub,” Sir Jiat ordered, and I happily complied.
I couldn’t help but moan. Even in the safety of the carriage, there had been a bit of a draft. My toes were so very cold, and my joints still ached. The hot water lapped at my body, chased away the worst of the chill. When I opened my eyes after settling into the tub, Sir Jiat was gazing down at me. There was an odd look to his amber eyes, something curious and uncertain. I didn’t understand it, but still, my cheeks tinted red. I could feel them throb with the blush.
“I am truly yours, then?” I asked, my voice soft in the echoing room.
Sir Jiat gave a small nod. “Yes,” he murmured, and the word sounded almost like a purr. By the stars, I wanted to hear him purr. I wanted to feel his purr, know that my hands, my body, made him purr. “No more trips to the pound. You belong to me.”
I shuddered, and he had to have seen it. It made the water ripple. “Good,” I breathed. I didn’t want to belong to anyone else, not even the High Lord himself.
After another moment of watching me, Sir Jiat grabbed a bar of soap and a sponge. He knelt beside the tub and began to wash me. I didn’t need to be washed. Warmed, yes, but not washed. Hosanna had bathed me this morning before breakfast in preparation for the trip to see Dr. Tawin. So, why was Sir Jiat washing me now? He had to have given Hosanna the order to wash me. He began with my back, and I moaned again, letting my head fall forward. Whether I’d been washed that morning or not, I loved feeling Sir Jiat’s hands on me. It didn’t take long before his paw replaced the sponge, the bare pads soaped and slick over my wet skin. That intimate touch did things to me I was both ashamed of and desperate to experience.
His hand moved along my chest as I lay back against the slanted side of the tub, my legs stretched out in front of me. The gentle slosh of water and my own breathing were the only sounds as Sir Jiat’s fingers slid over my nipples. I was hard. There was no hiding it. He made me want in ways I didn’t understand, but I didn’t care. He was touching me under the thin guise of washing. Still, I knew he was touching me because he wanted to. It was there for me to feel as his paw slid down my stomach, over a hip. The want I felt was inside him, too, but as his fingers brushed just below my navel and I held my breath, I didn’t know if he would act on our mutual want.