Child of the Devil - aka Nulli and the Leprechaun 3 (Absolute Write Blog Chain - August 2013)

This post is part of the August 2013 Blog Chain at Absolute Write. This month, the prompt is "Child of the Devil." This flash fiction is also the third installment of what I have now decided will be the Nulli and the Leprechaun web series. While it's self-contained, links to Part 1 and 2 are below.

#1 What the Leprechaun Said (AWBC March 2013) 
#2 Wrong Place, Right Time (AWBC May 2013)

Just as Shawn the leprechaun was about to fasten fluffy handcuffs on her wrist, the pink dungeon was illuminated by a flash of red light.

"Get your grubby little paws off my fiancé." The tall man who materialized had black hair and eyes. He also had little red horns protruding out of his head.

Nulli's eyes narrowed. "Err...I'm pretty sure we've never met."

The creature flashed her a panty-melting smile. "Bonjour mademoiselle. Je m'appelle  Luc. Je suis--"

"Cut the crap you son of the devil," Shawn snapped. "You don't even like the French."

Luc rolled his eyes. "Au contraire, cousin. They are some of my best customers."

"And you two are freaking me out." She turned to the supernatural creature she was already acquainted with. "What is that thing?"

The new arrival placed his hand over his heart. "I'm wounded, cherie. That is no way to refer to the man you are about to wed."

Turning to face the too handsome lunatic, she placed her hands on her hips. "Then it's a good thing I don't know you from Adam."

Luc shook his dark head. "Adam was an idiot. Dad orchestrated his fall from grace using an apple--an apple! Talk about a cheap date."

She took a calming breath and turned to the redheaded leprechaun. "I guess this would make him..."

"The devil's spawn." Shawn's expression was annoyed rather than concerned. "He loves to play pranks."

She lifted an eyebrow. "I thought practical jokes were a leprechaun thing."

Shawn rolled his bright green eyes and pointed at Luc. "Who do you think started the rumor?"

Luc's face was the picture of affront. "Moi? I've been getting this guy out of trouble since he was born." He rubbed one of his horns. "These even turned gray at one point because of worry."

Shawn bent down and whispered into her ear. "I used peroxide. Was surprised it worked m'self."

She sighed. "Just so there's no confusion--both of you are claiming to be the future love of my life."

They uttered their answers in unison. "Oui." "Yes."

This was getting too crazy. "In that case, please take me home. I have a long day at work tomorrow, and I can't deal with this drama right now."

Luc's smile was saccharine sweet. "Non. Je suis désolée, mais ça n'est pas possible. Your past life is over. You are ours now."

Shawn cleared his throat. "Oii. Stop messing around. She's mine. Your daddy dearest said so."

Luc's black eyes danced. "When has my father's opinion ever affected my actions?"

Shawn snorted. "Every damn day? I've never seen anyone's who's more of a Papa's boy."

Nulli tapped her foot. "As interesting as your family dynamics are--it's irrelevant. I'm my own person. Right now, I'm not interested in either of you."

"But you haven't tried me." Luc's voice was laced with temptation. "This leprechaun's a good kisser, but I'm even better."

Shawn crossed his arms. "That's complete bull. Even if he is, it's because he has a couple thousand years on me."

She shook her head. "I don't think kissing is one of those practice makes perfect skills."

Luc licked his lips. "Oh but it is. Besides, don't you want to know how it feels like to have this," he stuck out his forked tongue, "inside you."

Her nose scrunched up. "Not in the slightest."

When Luc strode forward, she took a step back and hid behind Shawn. Grinning, the leprechaun's chest puffed up. "See, she's made her choice. Now scat."

She decided this wouldn't be the best time to tell her protector she was still in the decision-making phase.

Luc's voice was laced with temptation. "Dear cousin, we've shared other women before. It's a lot more fun when there's three."

When Shawn didn't respond, Nulli leaned forward so she could see his face. He was staring straight ahead, and his expression had turned blank. When she looked at Luc, she saw his eyes glow red.

"Hold her still." The booming voice was a command. Shawn's arm looped around her waist a second later. Before she realized what was happening, her back was plastered against the leprechaun's body.

Luc floated forward. Their gazes locked. "You want to kiss me."

She struggled. "No. I absolutely do not. Shawn, snap out of it."

The devil's child appeared surprised. He repeated his sentence louder this time. His eyes shone even brighter. "You want to kisssss meeeee."

She glared at him. "What part of no don't you get? Mimicking a snake is also the opposite of sexy. Leave me alone."

Luc's eye's reverted back to its original color. "This is an interesting development. You are immune to mental suggestion." His gaze flitted to the leprechaun holding her in place. "It's seems you are his intended mate after all."

With Shawn's arms manacled around her, she couldn't move. "Does that mean you'll let us go?"

Luc patted her face. "Of course. I was just having some fun. The real reason I'm here is because your tryst with my cousin is progressing far too slowly. I was sent here to speed things up."

A shiver rolled down her spine. "I don't understand."

"It's simple." Luc snapped his fingers. Shawn's arms loosened.

"Stay out  of this," Shawn's growled. "I've got everything under control."

Luc ignored him. "It seems my cousin has a soft spot for you. He's being very patient with your maidenly fears."

"We first met less than fifteen minutes ago," Nulli protested.

"And you should have been flat on your back in under one. I'll leave the two of you alone now--but with one little parting gift." With another flash of red light, Luc disappeared.

Nulli turned to face the leprechaun. "Do I even want to know what he meant?"

So where is this heading? I have no idea--it'll depend entirely on next month's prompt. Stay tuned!

Check out this month’s other bloggers, all of whom have posted or will post their own responses:

Participants and posts:

ishtar'sgate - (link to post)
orion_mk3 - (link to post)
areteus - (link to post)
BDavidHughes - (link to post)
Ralph Pines - (link to post)
articshark - (link to post)
Anarchic Q - (link to post)
meowzbark - (link to post)
MsLaylaCakes - (YOU ARE HERE)
grace elliot - (link to post)
Angyl78 - (link to post)
milkweed - (link to post)

Bumped: pyrosama - (link to post)

Archive of Past Blog Chains

Dog Days of Summer - Absolute Write Blog Chain July 2013

This post is part of the July 2013 Blog Chain at Absolute Write. This month, the prompt is Dog Days of Summer, aka the trigger for a massive writer's block.  As such, I'm experimenting with a slightly different style this time. Let me know if it's a complete failure. Summer hated dog days in July. It wasn't that she had anything against the month in particular. There was a time when she enjoyed it very much. 

She only wished it wasn't so damn hot.

No one in the right mind would want to traipse around in seventy percent humidity covered in a fur coat. She was sweating so much her usually silky mane had clumped together, making her resemble an angry perspiring white porcupine. There wasn't anything wrong with porcupines. In cartoon form, she found them rather cute. She just didn't look very endearing in her current state, and she would very much rather be lounging by the pool sipping a Bellini.

Instead, she was forced to come out and attend this stupid meeting. She had never understood the obsession with the woods as a gathering place. So the grass was green and there were lots of trees--big deal. It didn't make the location any less boring. Summer was a city girl through and through, and this whole one-with-nature business didn't float her boat. Especially not when the sun was blazing down at close to a hundred degrees farenheit.

And it would be, of course, on this exceptionally miserable dog day that she would be forced to run into her ex, who was the idiot who had called this stupid meeting in the first place. He never looked anything like she did on a dog day in summer. No, the damn male always managed to appear gorgeous despite the oppressive heat. It was the short hair--she was certain of it.

Sweat didn't seem to have the same effect on his appearance as it did with hers. The shiny coat of moisture amped up his masculinity, which, in her opinion, was already on overdrive. It was one of the reasons they broke up.

Compatible males seemed to be born with overbearing genes. Her ex came with an extra couple of doses. He couldn't back off to save his life. As an only child, Summer was used to doing whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. She did not need some guy telling her horseback riding was too dangerous--especially when he rode horses himself. Hooking up with the man had been the crown jewel on her list of adulthood mistakes.

So why the heck did his presence make her drool? She placed part of the blame on the dog day. Animal instincts were taking over, and the man's testosterone was palpable in this heat. His jet black hair glittered in the noon day sun as he ambled toward her. His dark gray eyes were particularly mesmerizing in the sunlight.

He also looked smug enough she was tempted to bite his nose of. He made a show of sniffing the air--hinting that he could smell her arousal. Well, of course he could. She was a female in her prime who hadn't gotten off since they broke up six months ago. The cover of Men's Health would have that effect, let alone being a few yards away from Mr. Alpha.

What was taking everyone else so long? Summer usually arrived fashionably late to these gatherings, and this time was no different. Something didn't feel right.

The moment she realized what was happening she broke into a fast run. No way was she going down that road again. It took forever for her to get over him, and she had no desire to repeat the process.

She could hear him gaining on her, getting closer with each breath. It was the damn heat. It was too hot for her to be running. Her heart was beating too fast. Her body felt as if it were about to burst into flames.

He must have planned this. While he was bigger and stronger, she had always been faster. He had never been able to outrun her. But with the sun beating down, and the air hot and heavy,  her muscles refused to cooperate. She felt lethargic, tired, and extremely thirsty.

Sniffing the air, Summer followed the scent of water deep inside the wooded area. There was a small stream close by. She could feel the particles of moisture in the light breeze as she raced through the brush. It was cooler under the shade, and her gait automatically sped up. The distance between them widened. If she could just cool off, she might be able to escape.

She approached the stream and almost breathed a sigh of relief. She was nearly there.

But a split second later, she saw a large shadow on the ground just in front of her. Before she had time to react, she felt his crushing weight on her back. His jaw closed down on her neck, demanding her submission.

Refusing to give in without a fight, she kicked her back legs up and launched him forward using his own momentum. She heard a growl as he flew through the air. The best defense was a good offense, so she snapped her teeth and pounced. She landed on top of him only to have him flip her onto her back.

With his paws on her neck, a low guttural command erupted from his throat. Since he was her Alpha, it was instinctive for Summer to comply. Rainbow colored lights shimmered around them as their bodies morphed.

"That wasn't fair," Summer hissed as his lean naked body covered hers. In human form, he was even more breathtaking--hard muscle, long limbs, broad shoulders, and eyes she could lose herself in. "We agreed to take some time off."

"We did," he replied in a low husky voice. His large hand circled her neck. He lowered his head and bit her just behind the ear. "Time's up."

Summer shivered. The reaction had nothing to do with the fact that she didn't have a stitch on her. It was still oppressively hot, and her ex's body radiated heat. When he lowered his hand to cup her breast, a soft moan escaped her lips.

"Do you want me to stop?" His voice was an invitation steeped in temptation. She didn't have the fortitude to resist.

How bad could just one summer day be?

And that, folks, is my first ever attempt at a shifter romance. What do you think?

Don't forget to check out this month’s other bloggers, all of whom have posted or will post their own responses:

Participants and posts: orion_mk3 - (link to post)
Ralph Pines - (link to post)
articshark - (link to post)
Sunwords - (link to post)
Diem_Allen - (link to post)
U2Girl - (link to post)
robynmackenzie - (link to post)
Lady Cat - (link to post)
MsLaylaCakes - (YOU ARE HERE)
pyrosama - (link to post)
Angyl78 - (link to post)
SuzanneSeese - (link to post)
Diana_Rajchel - (link to post)
Elvin-Bala - (link to post)

Bumped: HistorySleuth - (link to post)
AshleyEpidemic - (link to post)
SRHowen - (link to post)

Archive of Past Blog Chains


Tara Quan

Globetrotter, lover of languages, and romance author, Tara Quan has an addiction for crafting tales with a pinch of spice and a smidgen of kink. Inspired by her travels, she enjoys tossing her kick-ass heroines and alpha males into exotic contemporary locales, fantasy worlds, and post-apocalyptic futures. Visit Tara at


Bugs - aka Heather and the French Chef Part 2 - Absolute Write Blog Chain June 2013 - #flashfiction

This post is part of the June 2013 Blog Chain at Absolute Write. This month, the prompt is "Bugs."  Incidentally, this is also a continuation/play on my response to the April Fool's prompt, which makes it "Heather & the French Chef Part 2".

By the the way, my French is very rusty-- French gurus: kindly leave corrections in the comments section.

Pierre's loud and uncharacteristically high-pitched voice echoed through the apartment. "Heather, come to the kitchen. I need your help."

"Umm...Hmm..." Heather replied as she swiped the screen on her ebook reader and loaded the next page. The Alpha of the Prairie Wolves Clan was undoing the laces on  Lily the Werewolf Hunter's leather vest. His lips were creating a path of hot wet kisses down the column of her neck. Whatever Heather's real life alpha-male needed help with, it could wait.

"Woman. Get your butt in here right now."

"Uh huh. Yes, I'm listening."

Lily felt the alpha's hands against her naked breasts. Her top as now a tattered pile of leather and cloth.  The alpha's lips moved lower. Lily's back arched as she--

Heather's ears pricked. She heard what sounded like a yelp followed by a series of crashes. "Merde! Heather. Viens-tu ici! Maintenant! Vite!"

She shrugged. What Pierre said was pretty much gibberish as far as she was concerned. He should know better than to talk to her in a language she didn't understand. Besides, things were just heating up.

Lily's back arched as she raked her nails down the alpha's back. His body was all smooth skin and corded muscle. He made a growling sound as his hand closed over her--

"Stop reading, woman! If you don't, you will never get a single piece of cake from me for as long as I live."


Heather lowered the ebook reader and whipped her head around to face the kitchen. Her favorite chef and roommate was scampering onto the stove-side counter. His face was deathly white. He wore a horrified expression. There was a skillet in his hand that looked as if it were being aimed at the floor. It wasn't exactly a macho or sexy pose, but the sight still made her heart skip a beat.

A sheen of sweat covered Pierre's forehead. His curly black hair was plastered against the sides of his face. His pristine white T-shirt  fit him snugly. It accentuated the breadth of his chest and shoulders. The Alpha Werewolf in her book might be hot, but this man was real and all hers.

That said, he knew better than to interrupt her while she read. "Can I help you?"

He launched the skillet straight at the floor. It made a loud crashing sound. A spatula was in his hand a moment later. "Yes, you can help me. You left the sugar canister open." He visibly cringed. "Get over here and deal with the results."

She rolled her eyes and trudged over to their kitchen. The white linoleum floor was covered in sugar granules and countless black ants. She wasn't exactly a huge fan of bugs, and the sight made her take a long step back. "Eeew. You deal with it. That's gross."

She cast a quizzical glance at the man whose back was pressed up against the cabinets. His bare feet were in the air, and he looked like he was about to have a panic attack. He wasn't exactly lean, and the counter had seen better days. Not only did he look ridiculous, there was also a good chance she'd have to get the kitchen remodeled if she didn't talk him off the ledge quickly. "I'm guessing you're not a huge fan of bugs either."

She hadn't thought it possible, but Pierre's face whitened by a few shades. "Ants are the most disgusting creatures on this planet. This is all your fault. You left the sugar out on the counter. Now, get them away from me."

She vaguely recalled dumping a couple of spoonfuls of sugar in her tea before heading over to the sofa to read. It felt as if that happened only a few minutes ago, but, judging from the ant infestation, in must have been hours. Her expression turned guilty. She didn't remember screwing on the canister's lid. 

Heather looked at the floor. The sight of all those black ants sent a shiver down her spine. "I think we should handle this as a team."

"Non. Pas possible. I am not going near--," he pointed at pile of bugs with his spatula, "that."

Pierre only interspersed French into statements when he was genuinely upset. Heather looked down and squared her shoulders. She guessed some sacrifices were required in order to keep her favorite chef from breaking her kitchen counter.

She rolled up her sleeves and went in search of a broom and dust pan. Once she scooped up every last ant, she rose to dump the contents in the sink.

Pierre, very literally, screeched. "Arrete! What do you think you are doing?"

Heather frowned. "Getting rid of the ants. Once they're in there, all I need to do is turn on the tap and wash them down the drain."

"No, you are not. They are not going down my sink." The man somehow managed to look formiddable while on the verge of having a nervous breakdown.

She would have patted his knee, but she was holding a dustpan full of ants in one hand and a broom in the other. "Technically, it's my sink, but I'll let the comment pass. Can I flush them down the toilet?"

He shuddered. His expression could only be described as pleading. "Dieu, non! Take them out to the dumpster."

It suddenly occured to Heather that she could milk this situation for all it was worth. "What do I get?"

His deep blue gaze narrowed. "You're blackmailing me?"

On purpose, she moved the dust pan an inch closer to his face. He yelped. "No, I'm just mentioning, very generally, that I could use a back rub. I did a lot of bouncing last night, if you don't recall."

He lifted a dark eyebrow. "I also recall you very much enjoyed this bouncing."

Heather shrugged. "That's besides the point. Now, do you want these bugs out of here or not?"

He scowled. "Fine. Back rub. 30 minutes. Please take those things and leave."

She looked down at her feet. She'd been doing a lot more standing than she expected today. And there was, of course, that walk to the trash shoot. When she lifted her head, the follow-up request must have been written all over her face.

"Yes. Foot rub too. But that's it. Remember, the ants would not be here if it weren't for you."

He had a good point. She tossed the broom in his direction, and, with a swish of her hips, Heather sauntered out the door.

When she returned, it was to find a stern-looking Pierre in the kitchen. His arms were folded, and the spatula was still in his hand. But the glimmer of amusement in his gaze made her breathe easy. "We should talk. You have been a very naughty girl."

Heather sashayed over and stopped less than an inch away from him. He smelled like aftershave and cookie dough.  He also happened to look good enough to eat. "Really? How naughty was I?"

The corners of his lips shook. It was a clear indication he was suppressing a smile. "As naughty as can be. How many times have I told you the kitchen rules. This country," his nose scrunched up in disgust, "is full of vile insects all trying to enter our house. We must work together to keep them out."

Heather batted her eyelashes. "Must we? I thought we had a nice division of labor. I make a mess--you clean it up."

He snorted. "I do not know how I agreed to such an insane arrangement, but yes. However, you offered to give me certain services in exchange. It's been a while since I've received my due."

Her eyebrows rose. "What do you call last night?"

Pierre's eyes smoldered. Her payment had been on the acrobatic side. He had expressed his satisfaction using a number of colorful French phrases. She hadn't understood them at the time, but he offered translation later. "That was in exchange for the creme brulee. I also recall doing all the dish-washing and cleaning."

Heather pouted. "You don't let me cook or do the dishes."

"The last time you did, nothing was edible and very few dishes survived." He chuckled. "Now, where were we? Yes, I'm afraid I'm going to have to punish you for breaking the kitchen rules."

She heaved a dramatic sigh. "Can't we cancel the back rub and call it even?"

He turned her around and closed his hands over her shoulders. His thumbs drew concentric circles just above her shoulder blades. With a satisfied purr, Heather leaned against him and let her eyes roll into the back of her head. The man knew how to use his fingers--in more ways than one.

He leaned down and murmured against her ear. "Do you still want an entire thirty minutes of this?"

Answering would take too much energy. "Umm...hmm."

"In that case," he pressed his lips to the back of her neck, "you should figure out a better way for me to punish you."

Heather's toes curled. "I have a few ideas."

Check out this month’s other bloggers, all of whom have posted or will post their own responses:

Participants and posts:
orion_mk3 - (link to post)
Diem_Allen - (link to post)
Ralph Pines - (link to post)
articshark - (link to post)
Lady Cat - (link to post)
U2Girl - (link to post)
MsLaylaCakes - (ME)
SuzanneSeese - (link to post)
robynmackenzie - (link to post)
Sunwords - (link to post)
Angyl78 - (link to post)
susanielson - (link to post)
HistorySleuth - (link to post)
SRHowen - (link to post)
xcomplex - (link to post)
milkweed - (link to post)

Archive of Past Blog Chains


Tara Quan

Globetrotter, lover of languages, and romance author, Tara Quan has an addiction for crafting tales with a pinch of spice and a smidgen of kink. Inspired by her travels, she enjoys tossing her kick-ass heroines and alpha males into exotic contemporary locales, fantasy worlds, and post-apocalyptic futures. Visit Tara at