Guys, 'Fit For Fire' goes to an editor next week! Before that, I have to finish my own edits and revisions, and I think the final version, the version that will be published later this year, is going to be soooooooo much better. The editor will have the book for about a month, so during April's Camp Nano, I plan to buckle down and *attempt* to write all of Rebel Song. I'm going to hate myself halfway through, but I think I can do it.
In the meantime, I wanted to share a new scene from one of the re-worked chapters. Also, if anyone has title suggestions, please share. The original title doesn't really work anymore so I want one that will be a better fit. Unfortunately, most of the titles I have come up with are taken. If you have the words alpha, marked, or mate in the title, count on it already being a book lol.
Anywho, here is the scene.
. . . He is NOT a mind reader. My inner voice hissed, making me aware that once again, I was basically turning myself in with my own ridiculous actions. “So,” Zach’s deep voice paused my panic. “How was your first class? I didn’t hear anything from the medical staff, so I’m assuming your appointment went well.”
My tongue felt like sandpaper. If simply speaking was hard before, it would be ten times harder now that I had half-naked visions of Zach parading around in my head. “It went as well as being cataloged can go, I guess. The class had a lot of good information,” I answered, my voice low.
“You’re not being cataloged Adeline,” he responded, his jaw clenching as he peeked over at me. A flicker of anger bloomed in the pit of my stomach and I let my pent-up frustration fly, praying it would consume me. Anger wasn’t as heavy as the tension that was currently growing between us. Anger, I could handle. Being sexually attracted to the man who was ruining my life, however? I could not.
“What would you call being stripped down so your scars can be recorded and photographed?” I asked sassily. “I, ugh, yeah, I guess you could call it that,” he answered uneasily. The retort I had prepared withered on my lips and my mouth went slack. I had been prepared for a fight, counted on one actually, and he had gone belly up. Figures.
“Then why did you correct me?” I rolled my eyes, hoping that if I kept poking, I could keep the argument alive. “Because I haven’t been taught to see it that way,” he sighed. “Of course you haven’t. It would take the fun out of oppressing people,” I muttered.
“I’ve already explained why this has to happen. You have every right to be mad, but can’t you try to see it from my perspective?” he asked, glancing over at me. His light-brown eyes bore into mine, and apart from the birds chirping, and the subtle sloshing of ice in the cooler, there was silence. The guilt that flowed through me was instant and unwanted. “It’s easier to be angry,” I whispered.
I had always strived to be fair. Having been misunderstood for the majority of my life, I tried not to judge too quickly. Everyone had their own story. That had earned me a reputation for being a pushover before, and I couldn’t afford to be that here. Not now.
This man dictated my future, so it stood to reason that being agreeable could only benefit me. Yet, I didn’t want to be completely submissive either. I was walking a fine line between rolling over and overplaying my hand, and it made keeping a hold on my life exhausting. With each passing day, I could feel my grip slipping. I had to remember that no matter how enticing this all was, it was wrong.
Not pack life in itself, but how I was brought here. How I was treated. It was wrong to hold someone against their will. It was wrong to force them into a life they didn’t want. If I broke down and started seeing things from Zach’s perspective, I might forget that.
“I know it is, but you’ll never be happy if you can’t get over being angry,” he replied. My head whipped to the side and my eyes widened. I hadn’t expected him to say that, but he was right. If I couldn’t escape this, would my grudge stop me from enjoying the rest of my life? “How would you know? I haven’t seen you lose your temper once,” I responded.
“You haven’t seen it because I didn’t want you to. After your first appointment, I feel like I’m constantly mad.” His shoulders tensed and his hand gripped the cooler until his knuckles turned white. “Why would you be mad?” I asked. “Because you were upset, and I did that to you,” he whispered.
I stopped walking and openly stared at him. He stopped a few feet in front of me, shoulders hunched and dark head bowed. The shock made my words slippery on my tongue. “Why would you care?” I breathed. “You still don’t know?” He lifted his head slowly.
“I care about you, Adeline. I know you don’t believe me, but I hope you will soon.” He started walking again, and all I could do was stare after him. A warmth spread through my chest and my heart beat faster. Before I could catch it, a silly grin graced my lips. . .