Jack Poignet

The muffled thud of the magnetic locks engaging still echoed through the vault with a heavy finality that seemed to suck the very oxygen from the room. As the seal hermetically closed the frame, it severed Jesse from the world above. The outside roar of the storm didn't just fade; it vanished instantly, replaced by a dead, sonic density so thick his own pulse thrummed against his eardrums like a hammer in a pressurized void. Every frequency of the outside world—the wind, the driving rain—was fil

Phew! Looks like I‘m far more critical with this story than you are. But I guess that’s mostly because it was the very first story I‘ve ever written and the middle bit (you‘re now past that already) was a bit slow in hindsight. (I always publish chapters „first draft“ as soon as I have written them, often I only have a very vague idea of what will happen next.)

It’s been some time since I wrote these comments. Thanks so much for answering, your’s is actually the first answer I’ve received to my question/proposal. In the meantime I have released the “romantic” shifter story “BigPaws”. I’m afraid atm I more inclined to write the “Rome” story, but that’ll only happen after I published the second Lightbringer story…

It was tempting to just steer toward a big shoot-out and pretend that this would solve the situation (and be done with the story). Obviously, I've decided to be a bit more ambitious and accept to struggle with writing this story sometimes.

It's kind of an "in-between" chapter, before the others arrive. I've just decided to move some content into the next chapter because I wanted to get this one finally out, but after that things get moving.

A wall of rain battered against the farmhouse. It was midnight, and the stagnant heat had finally surrendered to the drowning weight of the storm. Inside the kitchen, the yellow overhead light hung like a physical weight on the back of Jesse’s neck. Jesse stood by the counter, his 6'2" frame feeling like a neon sign in the middle of the room. He didn't move, but he was vibrating—a fine, high-frequency tremor that rattled the breath in his lungs. His dark, dilated eyes tracked the way Hank’s

I‘ve had some trouble figuring out how to continue after Chapter 11, but I‘ve finally almost finished Chapter 12. Expect it tomorrow or maybe even later today. Hopefully things will become easier after this one…

As you can all tell by the lack of new chapters, I‘m currently struggling with the continuation of this story. There‘s just so much to think about and include. Sure, I could just write a big shoot-out or something like that and say: That‘s it. But that‘s not my ambition. Jesse and Hank should have a mostly believable emotional development and the foster father situation must also be resolved in a satisfying way… Hopefully I‘ll have some ideas on how to align all that soon. The pieces are on the board, I just have to connect them and add a few bits and bolts.

@Jason Rimbaud I’m not certain how much of BigPaws you’ve read (I see your comments go until end of Act 1—which would be a good place to stop), but, just as a hint, the possibly most popular character with my readers seemed to be the vampire 😱

@Jason Rimbaud I promise that there’s a real story going forward… Sure, there will be more sex (an author must keep the promise) but it normally fits in with the story and isn’t excessively long.

The stagnant Texas heat didn't just break; it shattered. One moment the air was a wet wool blanket, and the next, a wall of gray water slammed into the windshield of the truck with the force of a physical assault. The wipers groaned, fighting a losing battle against the deluge that turned the world outside into a smeared, flickering ghost of a landscape. Inside the cab, the vibration of the big diesel engine was a low-frequency hum that Jesse felt in the marrow of his teeth, a mechanical heartbe

I had intended this is a short "erotica" story so basically everything builds up to chapter 3... but then people liked the characters and I was asked to extend it into a proper novel. Please keep that in mind when wondering how fast things escalate at first.

Hank didn’t hurry back to the cells. He moved with the heavy, unhurried tread of a man who had already dismantled the opposition. The sheriff’s keys felt cold and heavy in his palm, a silver promise of absolute authority. Jesse was standing at the bars, his fingers knotted into the iron with such force his knuckles were white. His face was a pale mask of exhaustion, his eyes wide and tracking the movement of the massive shadow approaching him. He’d heard the sounds—the heavy, rhythmic thud

It’s strange for me to read how many of you automatically assume Miller is a corrupt cop. Do you read too much bad fiction or is there really such a massive problem?! As a non-American I know there are enough problematic cases, but I generally have massive respect for everyone who takes on a difficult job like that. Please read the chapter again, and maybe even the last lines of the previous chapter, otherwise you might be confused by the next chapter… Hank’s words should be clarifying enough (I hope).

The truck’s tires crunched into the parched grit of the alley, the sound amplified by the narrow canyon of brick walls. Hank didn’t just kill the headlights; he’d reached for the dash dimmer blocks ago, plunging the cab into a thick, airless gloom. Outside, the station’s rear entrance was a lightless void. No welcoming glow, no yellow bulb—just the oppressive, dry heat radiating off the masonry, turning the alley into a stagnant oven that tasted of dust and old exhaust. Hank killed the engi