Excerpt from Tall, Dark & Furious

Okay, I’ll admit it. I got distracted by The Promise and didn’t finish the Chronicle. It’s started, just not finished. So, I thought tonight that we’d post something for the Pyte readers. This is from Tall, Dark & Furious, the next Pyte/Sentinel novel. This is Trace and Samantha’s story. 

Westdrom, Maine

“Let me out!” the small woman that should have run when she had the chance said as she continued to pound on the pantry door.

“No,” he said even as he yanked the chair away from where he’d had it wedged beneath the doorknob and opened the door, needing to see with his own eyes that she was really unharmed. She opened her mouth to say something else, but he was already shutting the door and shoving the chair back in place to keep her from getting herself in more trouble.

“We need to leave, Trace,” she said, sounding frustrated as he stood there, taking in the destruction surrounding him and-

“Thank y-oh, come on!”his wife said with an exasperated sigh when he opened the door only to immediately shut it again after he ran his eyes over her one more time.

Once he was assured that he hadn’t hurt her, he shoved the chair back against the door, sat down and tried not to think about what could have happened. She should have run or at the very least, found a better hiding spot than a cupboard with the doors ripped off and her only protection the dog currently sitting in front of him with a pitiful look on his face as he released another pathetic whimper that had Trace rolling his eyes and reaching over to scratch the dog between his ears.

“Trace, we need to leave before it’s too late,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“We’re staying here,” he said as he closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the door as he did his best to block out the incredible aroma coming from behind that door only to open his eyes when he saw the old stone walls of his tomb staring back at him.

“They’re going to be coming for you, Trace,” she said as she tried to push the door open.

“Good,” he said, because he wanted them to come.

He wanted his revenge, more than anything else he wanted to look into their eyes when he tore their throats out, but for the bitch that sent him into that hole…

He had something else in mind for her.

“We have to leave!”

“We’re staying.”

“Are you crazy? They’re coming to kill you!” she said, slapping her hands against the door.

“I know,” he said, wondering how long he was going to have to wait.

“It’s not going to be like the last time, Trace!”

“And how would you know that, wife?” he drawled, already knowing that it wouldn’t be like the last time, because he wasn’t the trusting boy that had let himself be led by his cock. This time he-

“Your father told me, Trace. As long as we stay here we’re in danger. You won’t be able to stop them!”

“And did my father tell you who ‘they’ were?” he asked, wondering what his wife would do if she knew that a Pack of werewolves were after him.

“Yes,” she said softly.

“And you believed him?” he asked, curious since most humans had a hard time accepting the fact that the world they lived in was so much more frightening than they could ever imagine.

“I’m trying not to think of it at the moment,” she said, making his lips twitch.

“And you’re not afraid?”

“I-I’m terrified,” she said weakly as he sat there, realizing that the incredible scent that she was giving off was fear.

“Your father is setting up a plan to get us safely out of here, Trace,” she rushed on to explain while he sat there telling himself that he it didn’t matter if she was afraid, but as he sat there thinking about the look on her face when he’d come out of the black haze that had swallowed him whole, he realized that it mattered.

It was a look that he never wanted to see on her face again, he decided as he reluctantly stood up and pulled the chair free.