I write romance novels so some of my most poignant scenes are about love. Not bedroom scenes... I'm talking about the great declarations of love. This week, I'm sharing excerpts from The Magicals series... There's something special in witnessing the moment your characters, or at least one of them, realize that they're in love.
“What were you planning to do? Just sit here like a duck waiting to be destroyed?”
“I didn't care. I was ready to die.”
“Well? Do you care now?” she demanded.
“I will protect you with my life. Claim or not.”
“That's not really answering my question, Corgan. You do that a lot, you know?”
“I care now. I plan to be around as long as you are.” He kissed her hand.
She smiled at him as he looked up at her from under his hooded eyelids. A warm feeling moved through her. It spread over her like a warm blanket. It felt like love? Not a feeling she was exactly familiar with, despite the fact she wrote romance novels for a living. The whole relationship thing never really worked for her. She just figured she wasn't cut out for it. When she wrote about love and relationships, it wasn't from experience, more like super-charged imagination. So, this is what it felt like? Warm and comfortable.
Corgan licked her wrist and grazed her skin with his teeth.
Okay, scratch comfortable, it was more like electric and terrifying. Was she ready to take the plunge? Hell, it didn't matter if she was ready. She moved around restlessly as Corgan made a trail of wet kisses up her arm and around her shoulder.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her voice sounded breathless.
He bit into the flesh just below her shoulder. A series of feelings passed through her—joy, bliss.
Kurtis nodded again. His old friend was besotted with the petite wisp of a woman. He never thought he’d live to see the day, but Corgan’s open adoration of Marisa proved otherwise. He looked forward to the unapologetic ribbing he’d give Corgan later.
While Corgan and Marisa said their good-byes to Waldor, he glanced surreptitiously at Dresandra. Her eyes flashed with a hint of danger, yet her face remained unaffected, a mask of indifference. The exchange of farewells continued with Dresandra remaining apart from the group. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t care. Yet her tense body language, arms crossed against her chest, told a different story. Like a burning stone, Dresandra appeared cold and impassive on the outside, while a great passion burned within her. Will I get burned? With a private laugh, quickly disguised as a cough, he turned his gaze away from the puzzling female. The “love bug” must be contagious. Not a disease he wanted to catch. Not when his entire life was in a state of internal upheaval.