Six Sentence Sunday — My Fair Vampire

Welcome to my third “Six Sentence Sunday”. Thank you for visiting and especially for any comments you might leave me.

This six comes from an urban fantasy novel I completed a first draft of late last year, book 1 from The Land Of Enchantment series:  My Fair Vampire.

In this scene, newly created vampire, Dori, and her vampire sire, Donovan, have it out after he reveals the truth about her dead mother.

I advanced on him.  “All this time I thought I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, that you’d preyed on me at random.  How fucking random could it have been if you knew my mother and knew about me!”  I slapped him across his face, hard, but he showed no sign it affected him any more than the brush of a butterfly’s wings.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“A little.”

I plan at least two more novels in the series:  My Fair Phoenix and My Fair Gargoyle. The world needs more urban fantasy set in the Land of Enchantment, New Mexico!!

Be sure to check out the host site, Six Sentence Sunday, for links to more tantalizing snippets from some very talented writers.

Land of Enchantment

Show me the voice!

Below are the first 250 words of my novel My Fair Vampire for the “Show me the voice contest” sponsored by Brenda Drake.  Click the picture at the left for details.

Dammit, he got away. They always get away. I suck at this. I wish someone would just stake me already.

I dropped heavily onto the park bench and contemplated yet another night pilfering from the blood bank.

I really didn’t know why my sire had bothered, why he hadn’t just killed me. The last time I’d had fresh blood, he’d caught it then scolded me saying, “Dori, remember, use surprise until you’ve mastered persuasion, so for God’s sake don’t let ‘em see your canines.”

“Well maybe if you spent a little more time training me, Donovan, instead of getting off with your harem, I wouldn’t be such a disappointment.”

“Maybe if you tried dressing a little more sexy, you could lure better. This,” he’d pointed to my feet, then my clothes, “…garbage you wear is utterly pointless.”

That had triggered my usual defense. “A girl’s gotta have the right shoes to chase ‘em down if she’s not blessed in other departments.”

He’d grunted with aggravation then stalked off, his long black coat cutting a wide fluttering swath behind him. I had to get Mr. GQ for a sire when I was so NOT Ms. Cosmopolitan. A freckle-faced strawberry blonde in track pants and a “Save the Adobe Whales” t-shirt made me more likely to grace the cover of Natural Health–ironic since I was dead.

I clapped my tennis shoes together and mud fell to the ground in clumps. The clear Albuquerque skies peeked through the treetops and twinkled above my head.