Today is our stop on the Incendiary blog tour. This series is awesome!! If you haven't read it yet you really should go and grab book one and start it today!!
Cold, fine drops of rain fall softly on my cheeks as I emerge from the darkness of the ship's interior to the gray, overcast sky of the main deck. Pulling my dark pea coat tighter to my body, the wind lifts red tendrils of my hair. I walk slowly to the railing overlooking the water.
I catch my first sight of the Irish coastline; its craggy landscape makes me shiver in dread. I find it difficult to imagine now how the Gancanagh had made this their home for so long without anyone realizing it. The cold, moss-covered edifices practically scream their presence. As I study the shadows between the falling-down stone, I imagine creeping shapes of undead Faeries grasping the rock, waiting for our ship to draw nearer to their position.
Tipping my face up, I let the rain wash over me. It bathes away the frigid sweat of fear that has broken on my brow. "You don't know how fiercely beautiful you are, do you?" A quiet voice behind me asks, causing me to stiffen and fix my eyes on the rocks along the shoreline.
Evie stirs in my arms; her chin tilts up and brushes against my cheek. Butterflies stir too, increasing at her simple touch. My fingers tighten on her hip as I react to the attraction between us. Her heart begins to sing to me, the Siren’s song that’s calling me to shipwreck. I go to it willingly. When her lips meet mine, I know I’m lost, I’m found—I’m home.
Something between a groan and a growl comes from me as she shifts in my arms, straddling my hips. The black silk of her dress rides up her thighs as my hands caress her bare skin. She presses herself to me and the feeling of silk touching my chest is a thousand times more exquisite since being healed. My hand slowly moves up her, past the perfect curve of her hip, up her back to her shoulder. Water continues to pour on us as I slip the dark strap of her dress away from her.
When my mouth touches her shoulder, her hands slip into my hair and tighten. It does something to me. I reach up and grasp her dress, rending it in half and pulling it from her. The only thing that comes between us now are what’s left of my jeans and a flimsy, lacy square of material that attempts to pass as her undergarment. I correct that with a soft tug to the delicate fabric that clings to her hips. Evie’s sultry red wings spread wide as the lace square falls away from her and is tossed to the corner of the shower.
She reaches down and pops the button on my ragged denim. As I stand up with her in my arms, the heavy, water-drenched fabric shrugs from my hips. I hold Evie as her lissome legs wrap around my waist. Her wet skin against mine is more sensual than the silk of her dress had been. The muscles in my abdomen tighten as my need for her grows.
I live in Michigan with my husband and our two sons. My family is very supportive of my writing. When I’m writing, they often bring me the take-out menu so that I can call and order them dinner. They listen patiently when I talk about my characters like they’re real. They rarely roll their eyes when I tell them I’ll only be a second while I finish writing a chapter…and then they take off their coats. They ask me how the story is going when I surface after living for hours in a world of my own making. They have learned to accept my “writing uniform” consisting of a slightly unflattering pink fleece jacket, t-shirt, and black yoga pants. And they smile at my nerdy bookishness whenever I try to explain urban fantasy to them. In short, they get me, so they are perfect and I am blessed. Please visit me at my website: http://www.amyabartol.com/