Carys Weldon Blog
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
So, hey...I promised you a sexcerpt and you're gonna get one. I'm thinking this will be like none that you've ever read before--but you might have dreamed about something like this.
The set-up...Sandy (aka Sand) is this big, beautiful bitch (garou/werewolf woman)who got raped one night. (Yeah, this book goes to an ugly place but even rape victims will think its therapeutic, I think.)
Brandon, the fucking huge guardian of the eastern pass (hero/garou/really great guy/in the pack of her father's worst enemy) gets a visit one night from the Shaman of his tribe. The crazy old indian gives him two silver flasks and a riddle--which sounds insane.
Brandon and Sandy are good garou. They pray to Gaia, the Great Mother, the good and generous god. (Which means they don't deserve bad crap, right?)
The silver flasks, the indian says, comes from Raven--who is called the spirit of mischief. All roads of pain, disease and misfortune come from Raven. (So, any gift from him is an omen for really bad crap, right?)
The riddle is...before dawn, Brandon will have to choose...to succor his enemy (which Brandon, a super loyal guardian for his pack would NEVER do)...or let someone die.
Well, the choice for Brandon seems too easy. His friggin' enemy can die. But the Shaman says, "One choice will please both Gaia and Raven, and the other, well, will give him a long road of heartache." So, now Gaia's in on this. Brandon definitely doesn't wanna displease her.
The night drags while he stares at the flasks. Finally, he decides he should go out and bury them. He doesn't want anything to do with Raven's Mischief (which is probably gonna be the name of the book, btw.)
But, before he can get to that, he decides to go to Gaia's altar and see if she'll just take the flasks. Her altar is known for disappearing gifts. She doesn't. But, while he's begging her for that, he throws in a "Hey, point me to a woman that would have me, would you?" Because he's a guardian in a line shack and a little bit lonely.
Okay, sorry for writing a whole book, but I want you to see what's going on here. So, it turns out that Sandy is out running (there's a stupid story) and her own father's guardians are chasing her...they pounce her and ick, rape her--which is a fade to black scene--but Brandon hears her screams.
Now, they've got a treaty that says the guardians are not to trespass. Before the rape begins, Brandon hears them coming, and knows that Miff's guardians (Miff is Sandy's father)are chasing something right toward him. The flask vibrate and he knows the challenge the Shaman said would come is upon him. He waits, praying to Gaia that the choice will be taken from him, that he will be strong and do the right thing, and not bind himself in Raven's Mischief--which always has a penalty.
But then he hears her scream. Without thinking, he goes to her aid...over the territorial boundary line. He runs the creeps off. (Geez, I'm telling you the whole story, but I swear--YOU GOTTA READ IT.)
Anyhow, he circles back to her, and thinks she's dead, but she's not--because that would be a totally shitty end to the book, right?
He knows that she'll freeze to death before he can get her safe if he doesn't give her some of Raven's Mischief--so he makes the choice to drink/serve her from the flasks.
Then there's this great scene where the hero carries her to his place and washes her and is so gentle that you gotta love him and wish your man was like that to you.
A month passes, and, whew, we're getting to the excerpt finally. Every night, every day, he carries his stupid flask, thinking that he should drink from it again--because he's worried about her, missing her--and that's the only thing that binds them. (And he gave her the second one.) So, it turns out that drinking from his makes hers vibrate, and vice versa.
Drinking from his calls her to him, and when she drinks, too, the time/space continuum warps and she appears wherever he is. Okay, so...she's been raped and that makes her one fucking angry bitch.
She DOES work through that during the book. And he works through the guilt of waiting...if he'd only come sooner, he might have prevented her attack. Ya know?
So, this scene is the first time they're together after that really bad night. Be sure and tell me what you think. Taking a book to a rape is a touchy thing--I know--but I wanted to give women a "work through it, go ahead and get your anger out" sort of book.
Oh, one other thing...if a werewolf person shifts into their crinos form, they heal quicker, and the night of the rape, he told her to shift so she'd heal better, but she couldn't--she was so emotionally drained. (That'll explain something she says in this scene.) Man, I hope you enjoy it now that I wrote the whole book. ;)
Anyhow...here ya go:
And then, one night, late—near the time that he’d saved her life, he decided to try it again. Just a sip…to chase the whiskey he’d been drinking. But, then, after he took a sip, he thought, “I need a real drink.”
The next swig warmed him all the way through and the one after that blurred his vision. That was about the time he noticed the flask vibrating. Seconds later, the interior of the cabin distorted.
Something furry leaped through some miracle, the distortion of time and space, knocking him from the chair. Pouncing him with unerring accuracy. A werewolf! A crinos female with claws that slashed through his clothing, scraping into his chest. She took him so much by surprise that he could do nothing but hold her at arm’s length—the second he realized she was going for his jugular.
That made him angry. He crinosed and rolled her, pinning her beneath him, asking, “You like that, bitch? I’ve got—”
He was going to say fangs and claws, too, but suddenly he recognized her by scent. Instantly, his whole demeanor changed. “Baby, baby…how did you get here?”
Before she could react, he started kissing her. A hundred little baby kisses all over her face. And licks. A thousand tender ministrations from a wolf man in love. In terrible, horrid, desperate love.
At first, she dodged his lips and tongue, her whole body tense, anger at being held down so intense that she sweated the endorphins from her pores, but he ignored it. He kept whispering, “Baby, I won’t hurt you. Just let me love you. Relax…it’s okay, you’re with me. Gaia, I’ve been so worried about you!”
She growled repeatedly, but he ignored that, too, sensing her softening beneath him. Was she giving in because he wasn’t letting her up? She wasn’t fighting any more.
When he realized how he had hold of her, he forced himself to relax his grip. His fingers loosed their hold on her wrists—how he’d pinned those above her, he didn’t even remember. He didn’t care. What he cared about was that she’d come to him—however she’d done it. He didn’t even care how that had happened.
Sandy was back, and all he could do was make love to her. But her shock and docility and stiffening didn’t last very long. The minute he eased his grip, she rolled him to his back and angrily screamed, “Do you know what happened to me?”
“Yes, baby, but it’s gonna be okay.”
“No! It’s not!” She sat up, straddling him, and pounded him a couple times on his chest. “I’m pregnant!” And then she started crying, and rolled her back to lay her head on his chest.
Brandon could do nothing but wrap his arms around her. She was pregnant? From the rape?
Gaia, was there any end to the pain of Raven’s Mischief?
All the joy that she’d come to him was swept away in the anguish of that. He rubbed and patted her back, and dropped kisses on her head. When he found his voice, all he could do was mutter, “It’ll be okay, Sand. It’ll be okay.”
“No. It won’t.” She thumped him again.
“Sh.” Was he hallucinating? She wasn’t really in his shack, was she?
Had he fallen asleep? Was this his best dream turned into his worst nightmare?
Brandon whispered, “If this was a dream, we’d be making love. You wouldn’t be crying.”
He received another punch for that. Her anger was the thing that forced him to believe it was all real. It filled the cabin, and the scent of her was unmistakable. No matter how many times he blinked, the whole thing didn’t disappear.
“How…how did you get here?”
“Oh, I don’t know! The flask vibrated and,” she sniffed, lifting her head, “And I drank because I was tired of hurting.”
Lamely, he asked, “Why were you hurting?”
She got right down in his face and screamed, “How could you forget?!”
“I didn’t. I didn’t.”
Sandy wasn’t listening. She scooted back, and undid his pants and looked down at his bulging manhood…with such fury on her face that it seemed confusing, in contradiction with her actions. She took a hard grip on it.
He had no control over it. She aroused him. He couldn’t help it. But, at that moment, he felt ashamed of his physical response.
She squeezed—which didn’t lessen his ardor. It did nothing but arouse him further.
“Don’t,” he said, forcing himself to shift back to his human form. He didn’t mind the firm hold. What bothered him was her expression, the anger. “I’m not the one you’re angry at.”
Controlling a shape-shift beneath her was a major effort, but he’d be damned if he let himself go. They’d end up rutting like uncontrollable dogs, and she’d hate him all the more. He had to keep his brain on a civilized keel.
“Stop!” The minute she realized he was morphing, she pummeled him again.
He didn’t care. He was not like the animals that had gotten hold of her. And he couldn’t let the instincts that ruled in that form take him over.
Brandon grabbed hold of her wrists. “Baby…just shift. We’ll talk about it like reasonable—”
“I don’t want to be reasonable! I want to scream and bite and….”
“And what?” She tried to jerk out of his grasp but he didn’t let go. He saw it in her eyes. He felt it in the stiffness of her body. “Show me how much you hate men?”
When she yanked her arms the next time, he let them go. “Okay.”
If she needed someone to let her anger out on, it could be him. He wanted to cry for her. He wanted to do something to help. And short of starting war by killing Miff’s guardians, this was probably all he could do.
He’d reported the incident but Amaguq and the Shaman, who had been his only audience, had decided to keep it to themselves. They didn’t seem surprised. And he had left them with the distinct feeling that, maybe, Raven’s Mischief was behind it all—and perhaps Amaguq and the old wise man were stirring things a-purpose, inviting Raven’s hand. There was no secret that Amaguq and Miff went way back as enemies. A grudge over twenty years or more. But what that was, no one seemed to know.
Never before had he questioned the alpha who ruled his pack, but, as he’d left, he got angry. Was he a pawn in their game? Nothing more than a beta worth losing? And making fun of behind his back?
That thought had returned many times since his confession about the night Sandy had been raped—that he had, indeed, succored their enemy, and crossed the territorial lines, starting a fight.
It was odd that there were no repercussions. Just him waiting for it to come. The worst type of anticipation. Surely, some day soon his punishment would be revealed.
Was this it? This painful experience with Sandy—more of Raven’s Mischief? They had both partaken from the flasks again. Was this his penance for choosing to do it?
Her angry grip on his cock had him closing his eyes. He didn’t want to answer her anger with more of the same. He didn’t want Raven’s Mischief to rule their relationship, such as it was. But…if that’s what she needed to work through what had happened, he was a willing man. Maybe it would make his guilt over the night go away.
“Gaia, Sand.” He took a deep breath and let it go. “You could come to me every night, angry, and I would willingly take whatever you gave me.”
In his head, he prayed to Gaia for patience and the strength to endure.
For that, he got his cock twisted. “Like this?”
Was he a sadist, and she a masochist? Because…the answer was yes. He surrendered his will to hers. Brandon nodded.
“Ah!” Disgusted, she slid downward. “And this?”
He opened his eyes when she took hold of his shaft again, her fangs pending over the top. She wouldn’t bite him, would she? She could, as angry as she was, bite his head off quite literally.
But then he’d bleed to death and be at the end of his torture. “Give it your worst,” he said.
So, she bit him. But, she didn’t separate any piece of him from another, except maybe his heart. What had he done to deserve this?
“Gaia,” he said, his cock hurting.
“Shift. You’ll fucking heal better.”
Had he said something like that to her?
“I’ll bite you again.”
“Because I’m angry and I want you angry and—”
“And what good will that do?”
“Together, I think we can take those bastards.”
Ah. That was it. Raven’s Mischief extended to murder...
Okay, so...the worst has happened. Not only has she been raped by crinos monsters--her father's own guardians, the men who are supposed to keep her safe, but she's pregnant from it. Babies/pups conceived in crinos are monsters. So, it gets worse before it gets better.
I think this story is so powerful because it deals with a lot of bad things. Rape--what to do after the conception--abortion, miscarriage, whatever--and Sandy is so angry. Who hasn't been so pissed at a man/men that they didn't want to rip him to shreds or bite the head of his cock off--and shove it down his throat?
If you check this book out (when it gets out), I think you'll find it therapeutic to many of your issues as a woman. But what do I know?
It's an emotional read that deals with addiction, painful choices, self-esteem--and ultimately has a really good ending...which, I hope, I'll be finishing up today. YAY.
Now, tell me...do you steer away from books that deal with rape, or not?
Posted by CarysWeldonblog ::
6:11 AM ::
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OK, lets see if this lets me comment this time.
I don't necessarily avoid books that mention/discuss/deal with rape issues. I don't have very many of them, though. I think if it pertains to the story at hand and is a necessary element -- which it sounds like this is -- it's fine.
The excerpt you posted is intriguing.
I don't necessarily avoid those books. But would hate to read one that wasn't resolved to my satisfaction. If it wouldn't give too much away way was her guardians raping her anyways. This sounds like an emotional book. And with those types of books I have to be in the mood to read something that heavy.
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