That being said, enjoy a sneaky peaky at The Demon King. I thought it would make a really great first blog post in here! Enjoy the excerpt, folks :)
|The Demon King will be available through KnightWatch Press in the winter of 2011.|
Her heart dropped when she looked in the mirror. Not because it was now cracked thanks to the lightning, but because there was a man’s image in the place of hers. She couldn’t see herself, but she definitely saw someone else.
A towering man, one at least two feet taller than Willow herself, with deep black pupils and a thick head of dark hair that hung just above his shoulders. He had bulging muscles, arms bigger in diameter than she guessed her thighs were-, and they were crossed over his muscular chest. Willow watched the dark, swirling black tattoos which seemed to glisten in the moon and candle lights, cover the majority of his upper body.
Every hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She clapped a shaking hand over her mouth and fell backwards onto her bed when she tried to back away slowly, just as her foster mother had taught her to back away from an animal on the occasion that one ever attacked. That’s what Willow thought she was right now…she felt as though she had suddenly become the prey to his predator in her mirror.
The man in her mirror wore chains around his waist that held in place several weapons-, medieval weapons, things that would make you think thrice about ever taunting him…and it looked like he knew how to use them, too.
His expression changed from a stern smirk to a satisfied mocking grin.
Willow pulled herself backwards on the mattress with her hands, not taking her eyes off of the form for a single second, in fear of him being what she expected…death. She tried to scream, but it was as if her voice was frozen in her throat. A single whimper was all that she could muster up to protest with.
She moved her gaze, slowly, down to the man’s legs and noticed that they were built like tree trunks, thick, muscular, and formed quite well. From his knees down, however, his leathery black pants disappeared into heavy black boots that were covered in tiny gold chains paired with what appeared to be thorns that followed a swirling pattern.
His menacingly horrifying, yet alluring, grin suddenly widened slightly as he parted and licked his lips with a slightly forked tongue, baring a vicious set of upper and lower fangs.
Holy Moses! What the hell is that!
Before she could find an answer to her unspoken question, two slightly curved horns rose from the man’s skull, slightly shifting his hair as they erected into their full glory. Willow watched with both amazement and fear. She noticed his eyes starting to flicker red, like the lonesome candle’s flame that was playing with the wind, which she was enticed by hardly half an hour ago.
Her heart dropped into her stomach. Her stomach felt as though it might just fall into her bottom, and the rest of her body was shaking uncontrollably.
Her bottom lip began to quiver, but she couldn’t cry. She was too scared to.
When the mirrored doors shattered into smithereens, Willow thought she would pass out, but didn’t. Instead, she continued to back away until she blindly felt the edge of the bed on the other side of the room. Willow then slowly climbed off of the other end of the bed cautiously, before she threw her back against the wall, her arms spread out as if to protect it, and her feet braced for whatever might come next.
He stomped out of her mirror and walked around the bed, taking large steps, and closed the distance between them, blocking all exits with his massive frame.
Willow could feel his hot breath against her shoulder as he bent his head towards her neck, though there was a small distance of six inches or so between their bodies. Her pulse raced the closer he came, but still she could not scream. The only sounds to be heard was the small whimpers that involuntarily escaped her quivering lips and the storm outside that continued to grow larger.
Willow was shaking uncontrollably, but he still leaned his head closer, close enough to whisper in her ear.
“Close your eyes.” He whispered, surprisingly gentle.
A thin bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. Willow managed a muffled sigh, but no words really came to mind that would fit the situation.
He put one of his black mesh gloved hands over each of her shoulders to steady her, perhaps even calm her shaking petite body, but that was all it took to bring her voice back.
She suddenly screamed as loud as she could manage, a blood curdling scream that she was sure would wake her neighbors. If she was lucky, they’d call the police and report a disturbance. If she wasn’t, she was probably going to die. Either way, it was always a fifty-fifty chance.
“Shhh.” He whispered again, unmoved by her ferocious screams.
Her lip quivered again. “Don’t h-h-hurt m-m-me!” She pleaded.
A smile curved over his lips. “I’m not planning on it.”
She turned her head towards his and saw that he was smiling. She noticed his fangs still stretching and allowed herself to release a shaken breath, but felt her chest trembling.
He inched closer to her. “I’m taking you with me, soothsayer.”
Willow gulped, but opened her mouth to breathe through shallow pants.
He moved even closer, pressing up against her until there couldn’t be a single sheet of paper slid between them.