It’s Hump Day. That means it is time for words, based on a theme. Sometimes. I came across this prompt and since Iffy is sulking, I took the words and ran. “And the words are?” you ask. INCONVENIENCE or
AGGRAVATION, things that make you GRRRR! or GRUMBLE!! or DAMMIT!!! So here is a first (and rough!) draft from MOONSTRUCK: BETRAYAL, here’s a little peek at some of the new material going into the book. I leave up to you, dear readers, as to whether my words meet the challenge. 😉
Mac stood very still, all sensation bleeding out. Hannah raged, like she’d captured every bit of emotion in him, draining him dry. Liam was gone? No! This couldn’t be happening. Not after…
“Breathe, man.” Lightfoot. Reminding him to live.
“We’ll find him, Mac.” Sean. Vowing to make it right.
He searched the face of each man, his alpha stare in high gear. Neither of them flinched. Then Danny was there, hobbling but chin high and determination exuding from his every pore. Harjo. The same. His gaze surfed over the women. None of them approached his mate. Smart. Hannah was too volatile, too apt to say something that could never be taken back. He next looked to the other men, the one’s they’d rescued from Area 51. They stank of burnt toast, their anger a visceral presence in their scents.
Not them then. No scent of carrion, of road kill rotting in the heat that signaled betrayal. But someone had. Had betrayed him. Hannah. Betrayed them all.
He needed to do something. Say something. But he remained frozen. Liam. His son. His only child. And Hannah had given everything to Mac, over and over, until her heart broke this one last time. They would find Liam. They would get him back. And then everything would be okay again. He and Hannah would be a pair, connected in heart, soul, and body as they once had been.
Rubbing his chest with a fist, he attempted to focus his thoughts. Aggravated that he couldn’t think straight, he scanned the faces of the people gathered there to celebrate Harjo and Amy’s marriage. His brain, on autopilot, noticed. He whirled, searching.
“Where is she?” More demand than question, Mac noted the rising panic in his voice.
Lightfoot gripped his shoulder. “Hannah’s right—”
“No! Not Hannah. Sutherland! Where the fuck is that gawddamned bitch?” His voice devolved into a growl.
The men exchanged looks. And then the crowd erupted.
Writers, any aggravating words you want to share? Readers, what aggravates you about us authors? Inquiring minds want to know. 😁