Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Happy Wednesday!
How about a snippet from the Tracker Claims the Cutie (Rescue for Hire West 2). It will be released on Saturday. http://www.bookstrand.com/the-tracker-claims-the-cutie
In this scene Santos and Tristen were forced to take shelter in a pond to survive a fire. This is what happened after the Rescue for Hire West team rescued them.

It took time, but Santos’s world slowly became more than puking up bitter mud-tasting water, coughing with a blazing throat and lungs, and burning up with blistering skin.
He was lying on the ground with Reese kneeling next to him, holding a small canister of oxygen to his face. Looking through sore, watery eyes, Santos saw that his grim-faced, dripping-wet team members had surrounded him.
Confused, he wondered what was going on. Before he could ask, Rhys and Roman separated, and Parker came toward him, holding up Tristen.
Santos struggled to sit up, alarmed at Tristen’s condition. Through the soot, Tristen’s face was stark white with patches of red. Some were seeping burns, but the red on each cheek was something else. Tristen’s red-rimmed eyes had a wild look in them, and his lips were crusted and blistered.
Tristen said something to Parker in a low, hoarse whisper, and they stopped a few feet away from Santos. With shaking hands, Tristen pushed Parker away before looking at Santos.
His amorzinho, his little love, stood there, swaying as shivers coursed through his body. Tristen stumbled one step forward before he caught himself. Nobody went to help him, which pissed Santos off. Santos went to try and get up but stopped when Tristen lifted a trembling finger.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he said in a hoarse, ragged whisper.
Amorzinho—”
“Don’t. Don’t talk,” Tristen interrupted and began to snap that powerful finger back and forth. “You may never disappear, and not move, and not breathe ever again.” Tears carved a path through the soot. “I…I cannot…lose you.”
Tristen’s shoulders shook as great sobs overtook him, and he stumbled forward into Santos’s waiting arms. Holding the little man close, Santos rested his cheek against Tristen’s wet hair. Tears might have trailed down his face as he whispered, “Meu amor, my love, meu amor.”

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