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Another snippet...

HRS likes what I wrote. This makes me feel more comfortable with the direction of this story. So, here’s another snippet of The Addendum to Wanted Man.

John threw the torn leathers roughly against the back wall of his quarters. “Damn!” he shouted as he bent to retrieve the ruined clothing. Best to salvage them for little D ‘cause the minute he starts walking it is a sure bet he’ll be into everything and need some padding between himself and surfaces. “Dren,” he muttered more quietly. Last pair and he had finally broken them in to the point where they didn’t chafe. Could his life get any more frelled? Standing up reminded him of his other worry, namely the leg that would not heal and the mystery of what was happening to his arm. God, he was exhausted and aching.

John collapsed on to the bed, jerking as his leg and arm touched its not-so-soft surface. He shoved his good arm over his eyes and frowned. He heard the door slide open but didn’t bother uncovering his eyes to see who had entered. He couldn’t be bothered to smile as he listened to the slobbering sounds of the baby sucking on a fist and the shushing of his wife as she readjusted his weight on to her shoulder. The noise didn’t sooth him as it usually did, rather it brought back the round robin of fearful thoughts regarding how dangerous he was to his family. He could feel his chest tightening with the need to scream out all of the vile curses that he threw at the blue bitch as she ran her slobbering lips over his ear and neck. The wet dripping sucking that sounded so much like his little guy—the licks and slurps of lips grasping skin that he could still feel like running sores all down his jaw line. John jumped suddenly backward as he felt Aeryn’s weight settle next to him on the bed when her shadow cast a pall over his bare arm when she settled D’Argo next to them on the bed.

“Aeryn,” he mumbled. “Um, it’s too crowded here. Could you put D’Argo in his cradle?” John silently pleaded with her to do as he asked.

Aeryn cursed under her breath at the stubbornness of her mate. Why didn’t he just come out with what was bothering him? Why the subterfuge? “John, D’Argo takes up hardly any room. Just move closer to him so you don’t fall off the bed and injure yourself further.” She shook her head when he made no move to comply. In fact, he seemed to be frowning even harder.

“John, I came in here because we have to talk,” she said as she took D’Argo back up into her arms and commenced rocking him gently.

“‘Bout what?” John slowly uncovered a small portion of his face and looked up at his wife with a shuttered single eye that peaked out. He knew what was coming.

“You can’t go on like this,” she said.

“What is the “this” that you are referring to, Aeryn? Is it the fact that I think my leg and arm are about to fall off and at this moment I sorta welcome the idea? Or is it that every single mucked up long-tailed, big-toothed, mottled, blue plant is gunning for me? Which one is it, huh?” John suddenly reared up and pushed Aeryn and the baby roughly on to the floor. He felt like the room was collapsing in on top of him as he levered himself off the bed. He stood shaking with rage and shock looking down to where Aeryn cradled the now screaming infant where they both lay on the floor.

“What was that?” Aeryn shouted as she tried to calm their hysterical son.

“That was me!” John exclaimed. “That’s the real me! Get the squirt away, Aeryn. I’m no good for you guys right now. Don’t you get it?”

“Yes, I get it totally, John,” Aeryn responded quietly. It was the quiet of a volcano about to erupt and the calm of a soldier on a mission. John looked both aghast and red-faced and struggling for control as she pushed herself up off the floor. “I’ll be back and when I am, we are talking about this outburst.”

John watched her go, still shuddering with the vestiges of his rage as well as the fear that what he really wanted to do before she left was rip something into small pieces, preferably something that fought back. He tried to bottle up the feeling that continued to wash over him, and turned and slammed his healthy fist into the door grate, shattering his knuckles until the blood ran down his palm and wrist.


Sorry meant to comment earlier. DAMN, jirl. This is good.
thanks, hun. you are the best.

The story as it stands right now is up on cathy1967's site