Yay – we have treats! It’s Day 28 of the Blogging Challenge and Olivette Devaux has agreed to be my ‘victim’ for today. Truth be told, I can’t wait for the next book in her Disorderly Elements series, mostly because I’m reliably informed that the main characters in that one will be Sig and David Rhea. And I have a serious soft spot for Sig. Which is why, I’m sure, Olivette has sent me just this snippet to post. Sig, minus knives and deprived of coffee… my heart bleeds, I tell you. But this isn’t really my slot to talk, so I’ll let Olivette tell you about freebies and the sale she has going before you can read about David and Sig…
Greetings to you all! Thank you for hanging with me here at Jackie’s blog, enjoying her awesome hospitality and eating her marzipan, and for reading my words! I’m Olivette Devaux, and I have some news:
First, for those of you new to my Disorderly Elements series, all my books currently live on Smashwords (https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/OlivetteDevaux) are 50% off, and the story “Three Solstice Gifts” is “reader sets price/free.” (https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/837908) Go explore! It’s a good way to meet Sigmund Harte, known as Sig to his friends.
Should you decide to sign up for my mailing list, downloading a free story HERE (https://payhip.com/b/TAN7) will do just that.
The excerpt below is from my current WIP, book 7 of Disorderly Elements, “Like a Dervish.” And check out that fun cover! Isn’t David stretching his wind-whisperer abilities a bit thin? He’s in the desert right outside Las Vegas, where he and Sig are supposed to train together. But not all is as it seems, friends and foes look alike, and traveling together just seems to bring out the best out of both of them.
Enjoy the snippet, and have strong health and much happiness in the upcoming New Year!
Like a Dervish – Excerpt
AWKWARD DIDN’T BEGIN to sum up Sig’s life in David’s company, and being stuck in the double seat of the used Ford 250 minivan didn’t help. Awkward and weird and strange. His feelings were a jumble of both warmth and utter confusion, topped with an uncertain fear of loss which warred with his certitude that he was willing to die so that David might live.
If necessary, of course.
Trouble was, David seemed to have been holding a similar opinion, and every time Sig tried to persuade him that dying for “just Sig” would be patently foolish, an angry, sad glare was his reward.
“I won’t have anyone talk shit about you,” David had growled before they boarded. “And that includes you.”
So Sig tried not to talk shit about himself, which was as hard as fucking a cactus sideways, because he talked shit about everyone he met. Even his friends.
Most especially his friends
“You’ll be fine,” Cooper said from the passenger seat as Ash navigated them down 28 South and across the West End Bridge. It was the only way to avoid the Fort Pitt tunnel traffic. “You’ll figure it out, and you’ll come back all better and properly trained. And then you’ll teach us what you did, and we’ll adopt what works for us and chuck what doesn’t.”
“Sounds like you had to chuck what doesn’t work before,” David said from next to Sig with challenge in his voice. It was impossible not to overhear him, since they sat in the double seat right behind the driver, even though many open seats and benches in the 10-passenger seat behind them.
“Sure did,” Cooper answered for his lover. “And we’re still working on it. That’s one of the constants that never ends, you know. Learning. With what you do, you either get ready for the long-haul, or you prepare your Last Will and Testament and get ready to die.”
THEY HAD GOTTEN THROUGH security just fine, mostly because David flew a good bit and had taken Sig’s knives away back home. “The ceramic ones will show, too. It’s not worth the risk.”
“But if I put them in the carry-on, they’ll get stolen,” Sig said with a pout. “Do you even realize how hard it’s to get ceramic folding knives?” And only ceramic blades with their grippy, synthetic handles almost didn’t show on the X-ray, and the tiny iridium spring that helped open the blade was easy to disguise with a bit of jewelry.
“We’ll buy new gear once we get there,” David cajoled him. “I’m leaving my wind-knives behind, too. We just can’t, love.” The endearment slipped out just to mollify Sigmund. It wasn’t anything serious. He didn’t know jack-shit about courting a guy, but if Sig’s softening edges were anything to go by, he liked being called “love.”
Which was, by the way, embarrassing. Not that David had called him that, but that it had actually worked. What was next, red roses and champagne?
Without saying a word, Sig put away his toys. Then he turned to him with a lost expression in his handsome face. “I feel so naked.”
“Me too. But there’re other weapons we can use. Pencils. Hell, I can use the wind and you can use your fire. We’re badass even without our knives.” He didn’t say “love” this time, because it would’ve been premeditated, and saying mushy shit like that was just not something David Rhea did on purpose.
He didn’t remind Sig he’d have to take a tranquilizer and sleep through the flight. Nobody wanted the fuel tanks to blow up on the way to Las Vegas, Sig least of all, but taking his weapons away all at once would’ve been just plain mean.
He wondered whether this meant he loved Sig, or whether he was just being a sensible guy. And did it even matter? To his immense relief, Sig seemed to have capitulated.
Except now they were through security already with their fancy scanners and metal detectors, and Sig had a victorious smirk on his face. David was dying to know what he had managed to smuggle through, but he knew better than to ask outright. Instead, he pulled out his wallet and rifled through half of their traveling money. “I saw that coffee stand down the corridor,” he said mildly. “I’m gonna take a little stroll down and get myself a latte. Do you want anything?”
Sig perked up with the predictability of a cockoo clock. “Yeah? Should I go with you?”
“Not unless we want to haul our carry-on bags with us. I’ll get you whatever you want.”
“You know what I want,” Sig said with heat in his eyes.
“Except for that, and certainly not at Terminal B,” David said with an uneasy chuckle. “I could get you one of those fluffy drinks. Caramel, whipped cream, hazelnut syrup…”
“Ugh,” Sig shuddered with revulsion. “I want mine black as a devil and sweet as a kiss.”
David knew that, of course, but it was always so much fun to ask. “Be right back,” he said right before he turned on his heel and walked off with a spring with his step. Blackmailing Sig for information by teasing him with coffee would be either really smart – or really dangerous. And David Rhea liked Sig’s kind of dangerous.
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