Aziza Sphinx's Blog - Posts Tagged "fantasy"
Favorite line
Many of my characters have a favorite line. One they repeat when they want to be heard but the other voices are speaking louder. It catches my attention and draws me back to them.
As of right now, I'm hearing the favorite line of my King of the Prince of Nai.
It related to an intricately designed chandelier he is dead set on not having to deal with.
And the line goes:
"Its a bitch to clean and its coming down."
Oh my dear Rasul. How wrong you are.
Aziza Sphinx
As of right now, I'm hearing the favorite line of my King of the Prince of Nai.
It related to an intricately designed chandelier he is dead set on not having to deal with.
And the line goes:
"Its a bitch to clean and its coming down."
Oh my dear Rasul. How wrong you are.
Aziza Sphinx
A Licentious Storm Excerpt
Here is a taste of the Prelude to the Storm:
Smoke-filled room - check. Free flowing liquor - check. Music so loud it obscured every thought racing through his head with the hypnotic cadence of the live band - check. Tired couldn’t begin to explain the aching and emptiness weighing on Neimiah.
He downed half of his current shot, the burn of the liquid reminding him that he was still alive, or as close to alive as his bond with his master allowed.
“Drowning yourself in bourbon? Really Neimiah? I expected more of you after all these years.”
Neimiah cut his eye at the redhead easing in to sit next to him. He’d chosen the booth in the back, tucked away in the corner against the far wall and the bar. A booth shrouded in darkness, the flickering of a soon to burn out bulb casting an eerie glow from time to time before it succumbed to a low pulsing hum.
“Valencia.” Emptying the glass, he carefully placed it on the table. “Better than that tasteless vodka you find so enjoyable.”
“Bad day?” She replied with a smirk in her voice.
“What tipped you off?” He gestured for the bartender to send over another shot. Instead, two glasses and the remainder of the bottle appeared before them, the waitress tipping her head as she placed the items on the table and sauntered away. He noticed the curve of the woman’s hips, the soft roundedness of her behind. The way her waist narrowed accentuated by the pink sequence band breaking the plane of black created by her bodysuit.
The clanking of glass drew his attention away from wicked thoughts, back to his visitor. Valencia had poured him another shot. She tapped his hand away as he reached for the glass. “Why pour if you aren’t going to let me drink?”
“Because you need something stronger. Think your day has been bad so far, you’re wholly unprepared for what I need to tell you.”
He watched as she drew a vial of glowing blue liquid from the folds of flesh between her breast. He remembered their softness under his fingertips, the way her body reacted when his warm breath tickled her skin.
“Stop it Neimiah.”
Her words slapped him out of the trance, his mouth closing in the process. Had he been drooling? And worst of all, had she been feeling what he was feeling?
Silently, she allowed three drops of the liquid to fall into his drink. Three. A definitive number in their world where the binding of triads signified the beginning, the middle, and the end for those powerful enough to create and sustain the connection. Though only two of their three remained together, his master still maintained the balance in the physical absence of the third of their triad.
“Who gave you access to the Source?” He’d seen the liquid before, in what his master called a Haven. It looked like a giant chalice, large enough to submerge three sizable adults. From what he gathered, eavesdropping on his master and the others of her kind, the Source sustained them in their original realm, the home of their race, the Doridian. When they crossed over through the Devil’s triangle, the ones they found here named them Vampyre.
“The who is irrelevant. It is, however, a necessity for you at this juncture. Now drink.”
Staring at the three floating blobs of blue in a sea of amber, Neimiah dipped a finger into the liquid swirling the clashing colors together until his drink glowed with a hint of gold. Then he drained the glass in one gulp.
To his surprise, no burn followed, or at least not the typical burn that came with whiskey. Instead, a warmth raced through every cell in his body, followed by slow cooling sensation reminiscent of the times he curled up with Inez before she drifted off into slumber.
“Better?”
With a drunken smile on his lips, Neimiah responded, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good.” He tipped the glass up once more, demanding any drop clinging to the side to fall to his tongue. Assured he’d licked away every morsel, he dropped the glass to the table with a plink.
“I’ve heard this stuff works wonders.” Valencia twirled the vial around on its chain before tucking it safely away from prying eyes.
Pleased with the euphoria he asked, “So why exactly have you tracked me down?”
“When is the last time you spoke with Inez?”
He stiffened at the question. Or maybe it wasn’t the question that caused a sense of dread to fray the edges of his ecstasy but rather her accusing glare. He and his master, Inez, weren’t seeing eye to eye. While she remained content with allowing their third to live out her dreams, he was tired of babysitting their master, blinding bowing to her whims to keep the peace and her sanity.
Lately, Inez showed signs of fatigue. She sequestered herself away from her minions, leaving them to fend for themselves. Most maintained, understanding that while the heavy hand now offered them a level of autonomy, the all-seeing eye hovered above.
If they tested the waters too much, Inez would reign them in and make an example of anyone daring to challenge her.
“I’ll admit, it has been some time.”
“Some time as in a couple of weeks? A month or two?”
He shrugged. “Why is it important?”
“Oh, my dear Neimiah.” A heavy sigh and she continued, “I warned them Inez hadn’t properly prepared you.”
Neimiah gave Valencia the once over. She was still as beautiful as those nights she’d shared his bed. And while well put together, he observed a weariness in her eyes as she averted her gaze. “Prepared me for what?
What’s going on Valencia?”
She reached into the coordinating bag hung from her arm drawing out a folded piece of parchment. She handed it to Neimiah, their fingers brushing as he eased it from her grasp. “You both have been summoned.”
A Licentious Storm
Smoke-filled room - check. Free flowing liquor - check. Music so loud it obscured every thought racing through his head with the hypnotic cadence of the live band - check. Tired couldn’t begin to explain the aching and emptiness weighing on Neimiah.
He downed half of his current shot, the burn of the liquid reminding him that he was still alive, or as close to alive as his bond with his master allowed.
“Drowning yourself in bourbon? Really Neimiah? I expected more of you after all these years.”
Neimiah cut his eye at the redhead easing in to sit next to him. He’d chosen the booth in the back, tucked away in the corner against the far wall and the bar. A booth shrouded in darkness, the flickering of a soon to burn out bulb casting an eerie glow from time to time before it succumbed to a low pulsing hum.
“Valencia.” Emptying the glass, he carefully placed it on the table. “Better than that tasteless vodka you find so enjoyable.”
“Bad day?” She replied with a smirk in her voice.
“What tipped you off?” He gestured for the bartender to send over another shot. Instead, two glasses and the remainder of the bottle appeared before them, the waitress tipping her head as she placed the items on the table and sauntered away. He noticed the curve of the woman’s hips, the soft roundedness of her behind. The way her waist narrowed accentuated by the pink sequence band breaking the plane of black created by her bodysuit.
The clanking of glass drew his attention away from wicked thoughts, back to his visitor. Valencia had poured him another shot. She tapped his hand away as he reached for the glass. “Why pour if you aren’t going to let me drink?”
“Because you need something stronger. Think your day has been bad so far, you’re wholly unprepared for what I need to tell you.”
He watched as she drew a vial of glowing blue liquid from the folds of flesh between her breast. He remembered their softness under his fingertips, the way her body reacted when his warm breath tickled her skin.
“Stop it Neimiah.”
Her words slapped him out of the trance, his mouth closing in the process. Had he been drooling? And worst of all, had she been feeling what he was feeling?
Silently, she allowed three drops of the liquid to fall into his drink. Three. A definitive number in their world where the binding of triads signified the beginning, the middle, and the end for those powerful enough to create and sustain the connection. Though only two of their three remained together, his master still maintained the balance in the physical absence of the third of their triad.
“Who gave you access to the Source?” He’d seen the liquid before, in what his master called a Haven. It looked like a giant chalice, large enough to submerge three sizable adults. From what he gathered, eavesdropping on his master and the others of her kind, the Source sustained them in their original realm, the home of their race, the Doridian. When they crossed over through the Devil’s triangle, the ones they found here named them Vampyre.
“The who is irrelevant. It is, however, a necessity for you at this juncture. Now drink.”
Staring at the three floating blobs of blue in a sea of amber, Neimiah dipped a finger into the liquid swirling the clashing colors together until his drink glowed with a hint of gold. Then he drained the glass in one gulp.
To his surprise, no burn followed, or at least not the typical burn that came with whiskey. Instead, a warmth raced through every cell in his body, followed by slow cooling sensation reminiscent of the times he curled up with Inez before she drifted off into slumber.
“Better?”
With a drunken smile on his lips, Neimiah responded, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good.” He tipped the glass up once more, demanding any drop clinging to the side to fall to his tongue. Assured he’d licked away every morsel, he dropped the glass to the table with a plink.
“I’ve heard this stuff works wonders.” Valencia twirled the vial around on its chain before tucking it safely away from prying eyes.
Pleased with the euphoria he asked, “So why exactly have you tracked me down?”
“When is the last time you spoke with Inez?”
He stiffened at the question. Or maybe it wasn’t the question that caused a sense of dread to fray the edges of his ecstasy but rather her accusing glare. He and his master, Inez, weren’t seeing eye to eye. While she remained content with allowing their third to live out her dreams, he was tired of babysitting their master, blinding bowing to her whims to keep the peace and her sanity.
Lately, Inez showed signs of fatigue. She sequestered herself away from her minions, leaving them to fend for themselves. Most maintained, understanding that while the heavy hand now offered them a level of autonomy, the all-seeing eye hovered above.
If they tested the waters too much, Inez would reign them in and make an example of anyone daring to challenge her.
“I’ll admit, it has been some time.”
“Some time as in a couple of weeks? A month or two?”
He shrugged. “Why is it important?”
“Oh, my dear Neimiah.” A heavy sigh and she continued, “I warned them Inez hadn’t properly prepared you.”
Neimiah gave Valencia the once over. She was still as beautiful as those nights she’d shared his bed. And while well put together, he observed a weariness in her eyes as she averted her gaze. “Prepared me for what?
What’s going on Valencia?”
She reached into the coordinating bag hung from her arm drawing out a folded piece of parchment. She handed it to Neimiah, their fingers brushing as he eased it from her grasp. “You both have been summoned.”
A Licentious Storm
The Burning Queen
Still working on this treat.
It takes a special piece of work to be banished from Hell, and Valdis Rhonwen is a special piece of work. The queen of torture despised by most, an overconfident Valdis forgot rule number one - everyone in Hell is out for themselves.
Sent to Valdis to sate her hunger for torture, Hell’s champion, Jesar, defected. No longer a patsy for her father, Jesar escapes the heart of Hell to bring back his queen and restore her dying kingdom.
With her champion by her side, Valdis’ journey to the truth is fraught with dangers in lands designed to bring even the strongest Daemon to their knees. The greatest challenge ahead, coming to terms with an undesirable destiny not of her choosing. For Hell hath no fury like Valdis scorned.
It takes a special piece of work to be banished from Hell, and Valdis Rhonwen is a special piece of work. The queen of torture despised by most, an overconfident Valdis forgot rule number one - everyone in Hell is out for themselves.
Sent to Valdis to sate her hunger for torture, Hell’s champion, Jesar, defected. No longer a patsy for her father, Jesar escapes the heart of Hell to bring back his queen and restore her dying kingdom.
With her champion by her side, Valdis’ journey to the truth is fraught with dangers in lands designed to bring even the strongest Daemon to their knees. The greatest challenge ahead, coming to terms with an undesirable destiny not of her choosing. For Hell hath no fury like Valdis scorned.
