Working on MOONSTRUCK: LIES and two sooper sekrit projects has me firmly playing in the Moonstruck world with my Wolves. Part of the fun is figuring out their sense of smell. Obviously, each of their heroines has her own “signature” scent, but in their world, emotions also have odors. Anger smells like burnt toast, rage like burning tires. Regret is a combination of wet ashes, dead roses, and almonds. This is akin to synesthesia. Today’s #1lineWed is all about scents and smells. I thought I’d share a few snippets from here and there, though I can’t “identify” one of the projects. It’s a done deal but not open for public announcement yet.
This is from the project I can share. Working title is BLOOD BRIDE and it’s set in the Moonstruck world, with no real crossover with the other novels or characters at this time. It’s been submitted to St. Martin’s Press Swerve, their digital only imprint.
Rhys’s attention focused on the woman sitting alone at a table in the middle of the place. Mine. The possessive word bounced around his brain. He ignored the rest of the people in the room except to snarl at the men standing or sitting nearest her. An older man stepped up behind her chair, his hand clamping on her shoulder. Rhys’s wolf was ready to rip out the male’s throat before he found a resemblance. Related. Okay. The man wouldn’t die tonight.
He continued across the room, stalking her . Her scent wafted toward him. She reeked of whiskey and chili powder. She’d had a drink and her resentment was sharp and spicy. His nostrils flared, seeking her personal scent. A memory teased him and his dick went so hard he almost stumbled. Lemon and a hint of cinnamon. Strong enough to kill the other aromas.
And now a little something from the Shhhh project:
He slammed the dickwad up against the wall. “Oh yeah, asshole. Awake now aren’t you.”
“Wha—?” The guy blinked, his expression tinged with stupid.
Bleu cheese edging toward scorched hair. Smoke crinkled his nose to keep from sneezing. The dickless wonder was cognizant now, nervous as shit and starting to panic. Smoke grinned, his canines slightly elongated and he was pretty damn sure red lights flickered in his eyes.
“Why the girl?” He couldn’t keep the snarl out of his voice as his fingers squeezed the guy’s throat.
“Orders.” Loser shithead choked out the word.
And yes, in case you’re wondering, I have a whole list of emotions and what they smell like to the Wolves. 😉 What about y’all? Writers, want to give us your two scents worth? Readers, have you “swmelled” anything in the book you’re currently reading? Let us know so we can read it too!