I’m down to the last few words for Chapter 19 of Santa Baby. It’s a fight scene between the hero and the bad guy. I thought I’d post part of it here and see what kind of feed back I get. Good, bad, indifferent?
“Ah but it wasn’t your father he went after, Kringle.” His pale blue eyes twinkled in unholy glee. “Gramp’s went after your mother.”
Chris’s attention returned to what the man was saying at the mention of his mother. He tensed his eyes narrowing. He came to his feet, his hand dropping to his side. The only trace of his stab wound was a bloody hole in his shirt. Lost in his glee at taunting Chris, Frost didn’t notice his healed wound.
“My mother? He went after my mother?”
“Yeah.” Jackson nodded, sure that he was in control of the situation and wanting to inflect as much mental and emotional damage as he could. “Gramps discovered that if you kill the chosen one’s mate, he died right along with her.” He laughed at the stunned look on Chris’s face. “Looks like your old man didn’t tell you that when he retired, huh?” After a pause, he scowled. “Gramps failed. He tried to grab your mom on Christmas Eve when your dad was off doing all that Christmas shit. He’d gone alone, thinking one little human woman wouldn’t be a problem. But he was wrong.”
“She kicked his ass?” Chris asked, watching as Jackson waved the knife around as he spoke. It was time to end this, now. “Your whole family is nothing but screw-ups, and ass clowns!” He taunted, knowing it sounded juvenile but hoping to provoke the man into attacking him. He still thought Chris wounded. There was a gasp and a movement as Jamie stepped into the fringes of the lighted space. Behind Jackson, he saw Olson standing behind her, his hands wrapped around her forearms, holding her in place. What the hell!, he frowned, I told Sig to get her out of here! Thinking Chris distracted, Jackson snarled, launching himself at the other man, knife held low in one hand.
Chris’s eyes snapped back to the oncoming man, sidestepping at the last second before impact. His fist shot out connecting with Frost’s midsection, doubling the man over. He pivoted on one foot, ready for the next attack. Frost straightened, knife still in hand, his face twisted in rage.
“Afraid to fight me, Kringle?” Jackson panted out. He smiled mockingly at Chris. “Once I finish you, I’ll have her,” he gestured with a flick of the knife to where Jamie stood. “She’ll be screaming before I’m done with her.” He licked his lips as if just the idea of making her scream was turning him on. “And then she’ll die.”
“Like hell you will fucker.” Chris stated his voice clam and deadly. Frost may have been a cold bastard, but now ice ran through Chris’s veins. “It’s time to end this.”
“Time to end you-“ Jackson barked, lunging forward before feinting to the left, knife held low. Trying to draw Chris in that direction to counter his move, leaving his other side open for attack. Chris bent his knees, ready for the assault. He sidestepped right, trying to block the blow aimed at his belly. The knife sliced through his t-black shirt, blood welling from the shallow scratch it had made.
Letting his momentum carry him past his opponent, Chris twisted, coming up behind Jackson. He hooked one arm around the man’s neck, yanking his head back until he started to choke. His other arm reached out, his hand grabbing the wrist that held the bloody knife. His grasp tightened until there was an audible crunch as the bones in Jackson’s wrist fractured. The knife dropped to the hard floor with a loud clang. With his air supply cutoff the only sound that came from Jackson was gasping moan.