Jan 9 2010
Welcome to First Page Saturday. Individual authors anonymously send a first page read and critiqued by the Dear Author community of authors, readers and industry others. Anyone is welcome to comment. You may comment anonymously.
I’m still in one piece-
And more importantly, still alive. Hope’s rapid breaths churned with the Yukon air, creating a steam engine effect with each exhale. She lay flat on her back, blinking past the dainty white flakes of snow falling from the midnight sky.
Beyond her fogging breaths and drifting snow, was the moon. Hanging heavy and full, beautiful yet deadly. It’s companion, the aurora borealis danced among the stars, casting a celestial glow upon the rocky, snow-covered terrain.
Running hadn’t been intentional nor had it been out of fear, but when bloodlust, a compelling force all werewolves succumbed to, took over the beast stalking her in the back drop of woods, she’d had no choice but to run, out maneuver it, and then destroy it.
After twenty years of the same old, same old, she ought to be used to the near death experiences and the overwhelming flood of adrenaline. Yet as she lay there in a mound of disturbed snow, panting and reveling in her victory, her heart was wild, drowning out the voices of her coming squadron.
Halting just at her side, a towering figure stood with his outstretched hand waiting patiently for her to take it.
"I’ve got to say boss, I’m a little offended you’re out here making snow angels without the rest of us." Sloan said, rolling his eyes when she refused his aid. He flashed a knowing grin, the dimples bordering his cheeks deepening.
"And I’ve got to say, your aim sucks." As she’d been out giving run for your life new meaning, he hadn’t managed to make one direct hit with his automatic. No way was she taking credit for mentoring him now.
Hope ignored his dry laugh as she forced her shaking limbs to cooperate and stand. Sloan bent at the waist and retrieved something from the snow. Her knife, she realized, as he pressed the cold metal to her palm without brushing skin.
"Babe, my aim only matters in two areas of my expertise and since you’re still alive and my female subjects aren’t complaining, then I’d say I’m good to go," he said, moonlight catching a twinkle in his brown eyes.
"Uh huh. And I guess I never see any of the women you date because they’re just as elusive as the fiends we hunt."
Suddenly Hope gasped and clutched her face in mock horror. "Oh No! Sloan I think you’ve been sleeping with werewolves."
He scowled and pursed his lips. "Says the Demi Moore wanna be whose dates I never see. Tell me, what is ghost sex really like?"
Hope snorted and waved a dismissive hand as she strode to through the ankle deep snow, making her way toward the crowd of officers huddling over the disemboweled remains of her kill.