The Eyes of
Bast by Lisabet Sarai
Paranormal/shapeshifter
erotic romance
Approximately
54 pages
Published by
Books We Love, Ltd.
May, 2014
Serial Love
The Eyes of
Bast was an experiment. I created the novella as a
serial, writing and posting a chapter each month as part of my regular website
update. I've never tried this approach before. Although I'm usually more of a
plotter than a pantster, I had very little idea about what would happen next.
Each month, I'd reread the previous installment, to help me maintain
continuity, and then I'd just sit down and write whatever came to mind.
The process
was remarkably liberating. I could set my imagination free.
The bulk of
what I write is targeted for a particular publisher and often, a specific call
for submissions. I usually have a predefined theme and both a minimum and
maximum word count. These constraints shape my creative process. My internal
editor is constantly active. Would the publisher object to this language? Was I
taking too long to get to the clinch? Was my take on the theme close enough to
satisfy the requirements?
With The
Eyes of Bast, I was writing for my own pleasure – and of course that of my
readers. The story could be as long (or short) as it needed to be. I could
write sweet or raunchy, depending on my mood.
I could introduce plot twists as they occurred to me, without worrying
too much about plausibility.
I was writing
purely for the fun of it. What a novel concept!
I'm actually
pretty pleased with the way the tale turned out. I especially like the dramatic
ending, which borrows a bit from horror tales. And I'm delighted by the depths
my villain ultimately revealed. I have a problem writing bad guys (or in this
case, bad girls). Delphine Montserrat is one of my better evil-doers.
I hope my
readers agree.
Blurb
Trust your
heart. Follow your dreams.
Shaina
Williams' grandmother bequeathed her that wisdom, along with a old pendant from
the Islands, carved from an ocelot's tooth. When instinct tells Shaina to visit
the feral cat trap she'd set in Central Park, she listens to that inner voice,
She discovers she's caged a magnificent black tom, but the cat inexplicably
vanishes after she tends to his wounds. Seeking the errant feline, Shaina
encounters instead a handsome stranger whose slightest touch sets her body on
fire. As the day dawns after a night of ferocious passion, her mysterious lover
is forced back into his true shape - the tomcat she'd rescued.
Born a cat,
Tom was transformed into an unwilling shape shifter by a sorceress who craved a
human plaything to satisfy her perverse lusts. Centuries old and irresistibly
powerful, Delphine Montserrat will stop at nothing to find her runaway
familiar. Shaina vows to do whatever is necessary to defeat the vicious but
seductive witch and save the man she believes is her soul mate – even though it
might mean losing him forever.
Excerpt
Go check the old elm. I swear, the voice was clear
as crystal in my mind. Lack of sleep, I told myself. Or stress. The
cage is still in my apartment. There won’t be anything there. But the urge
to go back to the park just wouldn’t let go.
Trust your instincts. With a sigh, I
turned and headed for the park, pulling my mace out of my purse as I walked.
The sky was still light enough for me to
see shapes and shadows, even under the trees. As I’d expected, area beneath the
elm was empty, the grass trampled from my previous visit. Of course no cats
revealed themselves. If there were ferals around, they’d be hiding in the
underbrush, wary of my scent and the sounds I made, despite my attempts to move
quietly.
Tom wasn’t afraid of you. The thought made me ache. He’d
been such a gorgeous, affectionate cat. I hoped he was okay.
“Hello.” The voice was male, low and
throaty. I jumped and whirled around.
A man stood behind me, a fairly young man
with sleek, dark skin and a wide, shy smile. Although his body appeared to be
fit and muscular, he held himself in an awkward manner, as if he had some
subtle handicap. His arms hung at his sides, his hands clenching and
unclenching as though he didn’t quite know what to do with them.
I gripped my mace more tightly, although
he didn’t appear at all threatening.
“Um – what are you doing here?”
“Nothing, nothing...” He shrugged and
scratched the curly black locks that covered his head. “I heard your voice. I wanted
to make sure you were all right.”
Had I spoken aloud? I returned his smile,
still uncertain whether I should trust him. “I’m fine. Just taking a walk.”
“It’s not safe here after dark, you
know.”
His earnest tone made me chuckle. I held
up the can of mace. “I can take care of myself.”
Worry furrowed his high forehead. “That
won’t help against some of the things that come out at night.”
A chill shot through me. I shook it away.
“I was just headed home anyway.”
“Good. You should be careful.” His smile
returned, melting my last vestiges of suspicion. He pronounced his English with
a precision that made me wonder if he spoke something else as his native
language. It wasn’t exactly an accent, but I could tell he wasn’t a native New
Yorker.
“What about you?”
“Oh – I know my way around here,” he
answered. He ran his fingers through his curls and arched his back a bit, as
though stretching. Despite that odd awkwardness, he was lithe and graceful. A
brief pang of desire shot through me. “And I have excellent night vision.
Exceptionally sharp hearing, too.”
I couldn’t figure out why, but something
about him felt familiar. “Have we met before?” I asked, then cringed, realizing
it sounded like a pick up line. “I mean – um – I don’t mean…” Hot blood climbed
into my cheeks, though the shadows were probably too dense for him detect my
discomfort.
His bold laugh rang out in the growing
darkness. “Maybe we have met,” he said. “I live in the neighborhood. Do
you?”
“Pretty close,” I answered, alarm bells
sounding in my head. No matter how handsome and charming he was, I wasn’t about
to give him my address.
“Well, then, you never know. You said you
were heading home. May I walk with you?” He took my arm without waiting for my
permission.
“Um – actually—” His touch stopped me
cold. It drove out rational thought. As if someone had turned on a faucet,
hormones poured into my blood. My nipples tensed and my lower lips grew plump
and slick. His fingers on my bare forearm were tipped with fire. I gasped,
staring up in wonder at his strong, even features, overcome by his imminent
maleness.
I wanted stretch out in the grass and
pull him down on top of me. I was dying to feel his weight on my chest, his
hardness probing between my thighs. Skin on skin was what I craved, with an
urgency I’d never experienced in my all my twenty-eight years.
His nostrils
flared and I knew he’d caught the ocean scent rising from my sex. I could smell
it myself. My saturated panties and jeans were no barrier. He grinned,
revealing teeth so white they gleamed in the twilight gloom. I shuddered with
need, imagining those teeth tearing my flesh, and stumbled on the gravel path.
About the
Author
When I was a
little girl, my dad would make up stories for my siblings and me, fabulous
sagas about ghosts and monsters, magical races with mysterious powers, heroes
on impossible quests, hidden treasures awaiting only the most courageous
seeker. I blame him for my lifelong fascination with the magical and
miraculous.
Now that I'm
grown up, I create my own tales of wonder, weaving in generous portions of
human desire with its potent enchantments. In my paranormal tales, love works
the most powerful magick.
Find Lisabet Here
