Tuesday Teaser 12/2/14 Daughter of the Wolf Clan
Wow, is it really December? Yikes! I have to decorate for Christmas (probably should do some cleaning too!) write and send out cards, finish my Christmas shopping, take care of my eleven year old niece for a weekend, go to various parties, and I have another 25,000 words to write in Wolf’s Princess. I’m exhausted already! But I’m hopeful I can finish the story by December 31. If I can write an average of 6,500 words a week, it’ll be cake. Wish me luck!
Here is the next snip in Olivia’s story. Oh, and can you imagine what the lion man looks like? Here you go. Enjoy!
Her lion man backed up until his back was an inch from her front. “Mine!” he roared.
Slowly, the words they had been speaking began to make sense. Lehergo. Let her go. Muzlergo. Must let her go. Nahyorz. Not yours. Olivia exhaled with relief even as she dabbed at the blood on her neck. Somehow, knowing they spoke English helped ease some of her fear. Not all of it, but some. If the lion man would just move and let her breathe she would be even less afraid. She wedged her hands between them and gave his back a shove. He roared and crushed her between his back and the hard rock wall. Her shoulder blade was ground into a sharp jag in the rock hard enough to drag a shriek from between her clenched teeth.
“Get away,” she yelled, trying to shove him away. “You’re hurting me!”
The pressure eased slightly, but she could feel growls and snarls vibrating in the body pressed against her. The other man said, “See? Yuherher. Lehergo.”
You hurt her, Olivia translated. Let her go. “Yes, please let me go. My brothers—”
“No!” screamed the lion man, slamming her into the wall again. “Mine!”
The other man spoke, once again using his Alpha tone, but her lion man half crouched, all his muscles bunching in preparation for a spring. Olivia could just see over his shoulder and the other man looked perfectly human. His hair was black, either very short or pulled back tightly from a suntanned face with regular features. With his long lean body he looked like he would be fast on his feet, but could he defeat the lion man? Olivia didn’t want the sane one hurt; she was counting on him getting her out of this mess.
She tapped the lion man’s shoulder. “Excuse me. Let me introduce myself. I’m Olivia Stensrud. And you are?”
The dark-haired man’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead in disbelief. Her lion man loosened his crouch a little bit, head tilted slightly as if to hear her voice better, but he never looked away from the other man and his snarls didn’t stop either. Maybe she’d spoken too quickly?
“I am O liv ee ah Stens rud,” she enunciated carefully. “Who are you?”
The lion man looked over his shoulder at her, almost calm now that she was talking to him. “Yermade.”
“Yermade? That’s –uh—nice.” She looked past him to the dark haired man. “And you?”
The dark-haired man flinched when the lion man crushed her between his hard back and the harder rock wall, snarling at the other man. Olivia screamed in pain and anger when her already bruised back flamed with new pain.
“Would you stop that? It hurts!”
Yermade half-turned to her, still keeping part of his attention on the other man. He made a strange noise deep in his throat. A purr? “Sorry, Yermade noherdchuh.” He dipped his head briefly for one quick swipe of his rough tongue over her throat. “Yukay?”
But the look of concern on that alien face was wiped away by fury as he wheeled on the other man, who had taken several silent steps toward them. The dark-haired man froze, speaking in a quiet voice too rapidly for Olivia to decipher what he was saying. But Yermade seemed to understand, and consider the man a threat. He spat something back, but the words were so distorted by snarls and growls that Olivia had no idea what he said. Since he had moved a foot or so away from her she took the opportunity to sidle to the left, away from his punishing back. He must have eyes in the back of his head, because he didn’t have to look at her to pin her against the rock wall. She frantically tore at the elbow digging into her windpipe.
“Yuherder, Kit,” the dark haired man said urgently. “Moofyarm.”
The elbow eased a centimeter away. Able to breathe again, Olivia tried to translate what they had been saying. Yuherder? You heard her? You hurt her? Moofyarm. Move your arm. “Look, Yermade, I just want to go home.”
“Mahmade no go!” Yermade growled, still facing the other man as if he were a threat.
“Mahmade?” Olivia said doubtfully.
“You mahmade.” Yermade looked over his shoulder at her, and his eyes glowed fiercely at her. “You. Mahmade.”
“No, I’m Olivia.”
Yermade turned on her, ignoring the other man long enough to stab a wickedly sharp claw at her face. “You. Mah. Madte,” he yowled.
Mah ma … Olivia felt the blood run out of her face. “My mate?” she gasped. “You think I’m your mate?” She looked past Yermade to the other man. “He thinks I’m his mate?”