After finishing the King’s Mate series, I wrote short stories for the anthologies, prompts, and collaborations with Valkyrie and Cole Matthews, mixed with some poetry. A few months ago, however, I thought it is time to start a new book. Those who know me a little are probably aware of my fascination with vampires. They will play a decisive part in the new series.
I’m currently writing chapter four. As I am a slow writer due to life and the fact that English is my second language, it takes me roughly a month, at least, to write a chapter if everything goes according to plan.
I hope the Catburglar will be the first book in the Professions series. To cut a long story short, I hope I’ll have most of the book written around my GAnniversary in September, and I can post the first chapter then. This time, I won’t post as soon as a chapter is written, because life always happens when you don’t expect it.
I think I bored you long enough now. Here is a short excerpt from the first chapter.
Winter birthdays suck. Majorly. No pool parties in June. No barbequing with friends in July. No crackling bonfire at the beach in late August, drinking lots of cold beer, singing off-key to ancient metal ballads.
I guess my summer-birthday-having brothers had had enough of my annual whining. They invited our closest friends and organized a beach party for me...in February. Which was why, on my twenty-fourth birthday, I was sitting beside the above-mentioned merrily-crackling bonfire, with a scarf around my neck, a hat on my head, trying to open a bag of chips clumsily with gloved hands. And because it was friggin’ cold or because of the many beers I had, I needed to pee very urgently. I got up to find a quiet place to water the seagrass and looked around.
“I dare you to whip out that puny dick of yours where I can see it!” My brother’s girlfriend hid her eyes demonstratively behind both her hands. She might have had a little too much of the chardonnay.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with this fine example of male beauty and virility,” I gestured at my crotch, bucking my hips suggestively for good measure, "if it hit you smack dab in the face!”
Lin pretended to gag. “Ew! Nathan, help!”
My brother instantly threw a beer can at me. “As if she’d look at your puny thing when she can have mine.” My so-called friends guffawed and cheered at his blunder.
“Your puny thing?” Flipping them all off, I turned my back to the bonfire and switched my phone’s torchlight on to speed-stumble towards the dunes. I really, really needed to piss. Behind one of the beach huts, far enough away from Lin’s delicate eyes, I fumbled for my zipper. With all the bulky winter clothes in the way, I couldn’t reach the pull tab as quickly as I needed. “Fuck that shit!” Shoving my down jacket out of the way, I pulled one glove off with my teeth. A sharp crack from behind made me stop mid-motion, and my back stiffened when a cold shiver ran down my spine. “Lin?” I lifted my phone and searched around. Maybe scanning the place before I got my dick out would be a good idea. Just to avoid literally pissing off an unsuspecting critter with my most vulnerable body part out in the open. Right?
Even if I had seen him, I wouldn’t have been quick or strong enough to escape his iron grip or fight him. Increasing pressure on my shoulders made me stagger forward, and then something gripped my chin and sniffed along the right side of my neck. I was either too panicked or too drunk to imagine what creature would do this. Then it struck. The searing pain instantly petrified me. It felt as if acid had been injected directly into my vein and pulsed through my body from the point of impact directly to my brain. All I heard then was greedy gulping; moments later my vision blurred till darkness swept over me.
“Konstantin said he left him near the lifeboat.”
I sat up groggily, peeling my face off a slimy, wooden surface. Lifeboat. I wiped away some grains of sand and pieces of seaweed and grimaced when too many sensations suddenly bombarded me. Someone nearby was talking too loudly; the pungent stench of rotten fish and wet wood overwhelmed me. I inhaled more cautiously. I stank of rotten fish—and stale beer. My butt felt cold and damp. In the distance, the surf roared deafeningly against the cliffs. When I blinked my eyes open, the horizon was lined with the blue hues of early dawn. Clumsily, I braced myself against something slick and squidgy, trying to stand, but my legs instantly gave out. I felt like shit. Worse than the amount of alcohol I usually drank justified. I never drink hard liquor. My first thought was that the others must have spiked my beer. Sand crunched. A huge, dark figure leaned over me. “I found him!” Before I could react, a dark, thick cloth was thrown over me. I heard a muffled voice. “We have to hurry, Doc; sunrise is close.” They grabbed me, wrapped me up even tighter, and threw me over their shoulder in a fireman carry, as if I weighed nothing, and ran.