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Sometimes I surprise myself at how aloof I can act. How casual I can be about things that mean the world to me.
The Seven Siblingsmeans more than can be put into words. And I would know, seeing as how I’m a writer.
When I was behind bars, there were days I thought I might go insane. That the lack of control over my life would break my mind. Those were the days that writing saved me. Writing this story. I started with the Rapunzel fairy tale, turning the captive into a man so I could get all my rage at being locked up down on the page in an authentic way.
I had debated my Rapunzel being saved by a prince or a princess.
Then my new cellmate Dash showed up, and I opted for the prince.
I may have had a slight crush at the time. Soon, I realized he was straight, and we were better as friends. But the story had already taken shape. And I decided all the fairy tales I’d been fed as a child could benefit from a queer makeover. So I had a mission. A purpose.
And when I got out, I had hundreds of thousands of words of a raw, epic story.
Briefly, I considered trying to get an agent or a publisher interested.
But it was too personal. I couldn’t have someone picking apart this story that saved me. Demanding I make changes so the words would be more palatable to the general public. I decided only I would have a say in its formation.
That’s when I sought out some way to publish it myself.
And so The Inked Dragon was born on EpicTales.
A full minute has gone by without Summer having spoken. For a normally chatty woman, this silence is eerie.
Then, finally, she breaks.
“You.” The word comes out harsh, like an accusation.
“Me?”
“You show me this when I have mere minutes left in my break? When I have four hours left at my job where I have to function like a rational human being? How could you?” Summer stares at me, aghast.
“Are you mad at me?”
“I am…” She shoves up from my lap, pacing the tiny office, only to come back to me and fist her hands in my shirt collar. “I am ravenous.” My librarian’s eyes are wild, and an answering neediness unfurls in my chest.
“Tell them you’re sick. Come home with me,” I say.
“Cole!” She moans my name, releasing my shirt to bury her face in her hands.
I stand, gently clasping her wrists, making my voice coaxing.
“You want to know what happens next, don’t you? I can tell you. I have it all written already. Want me to read it to you?”
“You’re the devil!” Summer sounds halfway between laughing and crying, but when I pull her hands away from her face she’s glaring at me. “Don’t you tempt me. Don’t you dare.”
Before I can answer, I’m shoved backward, my legs hitting her desk surprising me into sitting on the cluttered surface.
And her mouth is on mine. Hot, needy, worshiping.
“Don’t you dare”—she bites my lower lip—“spoil the ending.” Summer licks the spot she bit, then backs away, her hand pressed to my chest as if to keep me in place. Her pupils are dilated like I’m a drug she’s high on. “I have to work. But then I’m coming to your place. And you’re going to read me my favorite scenes you’ve published so far.”
“Am I?” I can’t help teasing her when she uses that commanding tone.
Summer leans in close, her lips brushing my ear. “Yes. You are. You’re going to read them to me while you’re naked, and I’m licking your tattoos. Because I’m the luckiest girl in the world, and I want a taste of The Inked Dragon.” Then she bites my ear lobe, and I almost come on the spot.
“Now,” I growl. “We go to my placenow.”
Summer leans back, shaking her head, teeth pinching her bottom lip. “You did this, Cole. You got me all horned up right before I have to go back to work. If I’m dealing with a lady boner for the next four hours, then you have to deal with some sexual frustration, too. Fair is fair.”
