Wednesday, 5 June 2013

Excerpt: Bait by K.C. Blake

“No.”  The grin changed to a smirk.  “I break into the homes of random girls all the time... just to talk.  Being a rock star doesn’t keep me busy enough.”  He raised an eyebrow and held up the next CD in the shortening stack.  “Seriously?  I wouldn’t listen to this if someone had a gun to my head.”  He flicked it to the floor.  “Your taste in music sucks.”
Although the CDs in his hands were a mixture of Country and Jazz, she loved Classic Rock like her dad.  The discs didn’t belong to her.  Nothing in the ridiculous girlie neon orange and pink room did with the exception of a few sentimental items she dragged from place to place, but she wasn’t going to explain her way of life to this intruder.  If she wanted to bare her soul, she’d see a psychiatrist.  Knowing it was a dream didn’t make her feel any better about him going through what he thought were her personal belongings.    
“Why did you kill those people?” she asked out of curiosity.  An image of dead bodies on a night club floor surfaced in her mind.  It took effort not to shudder.  “What did they ever do to you?”
He laughed, throaty and deep, sexy.  The sound dried the inside of her mouth and she clenched her teeth, feeling betrayed by her own body.  What was wrong with her?  She hadn’t felt this way about a guy before.  Why now?  Why this murderer?
“What did they do to me?” he repeated her question.  “Nothing.”  Then he pointed a finger at her.  “You, on the other hand, ruined my life.”
“Stop saying that.  I don’t even know you.  Before you killed those people I wasn’t aware we were on the same planet.”
“Ouch.”  He placed a hand over his heart as if she’d wounded him.  “So you aren’t one of my many adoring fans, huh?”
He put what was left of her CD collection on the dresser and reached for the tiny television, flipping it on without seeking permission.  An old sit-com with a noisy family brought the square screen to life.  
“No, I am not a fan.  I don’t follow you on Twitter or turn the volume up when one of your dumb songs comes on the radio.  I never think about you.  Why are you in my head now?”
“You tell me.  It’s your—”
“Dream.  I know.  You don’t have to keep saying it.  I get it already.”
“Until this dream ends, what do you want to do?”  His hungry gaze locked on her face, and he bit his lower lip as if he was once again thinking about kissing her.
Close to panicking now, she froze.  The kisses she shared with Gavin were brief and passionless and always for the benefit of those watching.  What would it feel like to kiss someone she actually wanted?  Her skin burned from just looking at the guy.  The chemistry between them had the potential to blow the roof off the house.  If he touched her, she’d probably spontaneously combust.
Tyler Beck, the hottest rock singer on the planet, the boy every girl fantasized about stared at her with desire in his eyes.  He planted a knee on the bed near her foot.  His hand landed next to her upper thigh.  The other knee and hand joined them on the mattress.  Slowly he crawled up her body, careful not to touch her until he was once again hovering over her mouth.  In a husky whisper he repeated, “What do you want to do?  Talk?  Fight?  Make out?”
The challenging tone sent a chill through her, a bad sort of chill.  Doubts surfaced.  What if this wasn’t a dream?  Maybe a monster had crossed over from the Spirit Realm in a Tyler Beck disguise to kill her.  She needed to do something quick.  If she died, it would be her own fault for being so stupid.
Her hand slid under the pink pillow behind her head to grab the ancient dagger she slept on.  Gripping it hard, she prepared to attack.  Something in her eyes tipped him off.  Before she could bury the blade deep in his chest, he leaped off the bed without warning, flying backwards.  He stumbled and hit the wall near the dresser.  A picture of a girl sitting in a garden rocked sideways before falling off the nail. 
“Another time then,” he mumbled before disappearing.
Bay-Lee blinked at the empty space where his body had been.  A shaky laugh escaped her open mouth.  She was dreaming.  There wasn’t a monster out there that could vanish into thin air.  Relaxed now, she collapsed on the mattress, breathing through her mouth.  Something was seriously wrong with her, having a hot dream about a psycho rock star.
Maybe she should seek therapy.

1 comment:

  1. Thank you. Looks awesome. I'll be back in a day or two to respond to any questions or comments.