As I write this, I still have 2-3k of Angry Survivor to write. It’s the 2nd of November, and I’ve not had a book that was this difficult to write, ever.
Every word of Angry Survivor seems to need hooking and reeling like I’m going fishing for the most elusive fish in history. It’s labour intensive (as much as sitting in a chair can be), difficult and is making progressing with the rest of the series difficult. I’ve even considered dropping this story farther down the line in favour of Wicked Survivor, Rowan’s story. But I know I’m not near writing that one yet. I could drop it for Proud Survivor, Zenobia’s story, but this book introduces her love interest, or disinterest in this case, Soran, the Vokan/Tessan hybrid with the big ego.
I need this book to be written first, but even now, when we’re moving towards their sex/bonding scene, it’s still needs to be dragged out one word at a time.
The issue in the beginning was that I set Balthus up as an asshole a little too efficiently. Add to that, Erica had anger issues. She lost her father, was kidnapped, made a test subject and genetically altered, before being rescued by a group of alien males all looking at her and her fellow survivors like they’re the solution to all of their problems. It’s easy to see where her issues stem from. Then she meets this guy who basically paints a target on his own forehead, almost custom made for Erica. Add to that an undercurrent of tension neither one realises is the natural draw of their bond. Yeah, I set it up a little too effectively.
Bringing Erica and Balthus together caused a clash that threatened to derail the whole love story.
So, what to do when you’ve written yourself into a dead end?
In physics, when something is moving on a trajectory, the only way to change its course (assuming we’re not talking about a smart missile or something) is to exert an outside force. In the case of this book, both Balthus and Erica are on their own course, so both of them needed an outside force. Of course I’m not going to give the game away here, suffice to say, Balthus can ignore his instincts all he wants, but for any Tessan male, when his mate is in danger, there is nothing that will stop them from protecting their female.
And yes, Balthus is being a dick in this scene. See what I'm working with! XD
Ignoring the lift, Balthus took the stairs up the eight flights to Thanesh’s office. He was barely out of breath by the time he got to the top and walked down the hall and into the outer office of Thanesh’s official suite.
She was here.
It wasn’t like Balthus had swept the room as soon as he entered, only stopping to look when his eyes landed on her perfect skin and full lips.
It was three days after his encounter with the human on the street, Balthus still felt… off about the way things had been left.
The female was most annoying! And dismissive! And disrespectful! And the fact that she wasn’t afraid of him told him she was either worth respecting, or a complete vashni! Whenever he thought this, a small voice in Balthus’s head hoped it was the former.
Not that it mattered.
She had invoked privacy for her desk, a small rippling of blue energy telling him she couldn’t hear the office and the office couldn’t hear her. She was speaking to someone and seemed annoyed by them, her body became more animate, her hands gesticulating as she fidgeted in her seat. At one point she rolled her eyes then looked down at the screen, only seeming to become angrier, her pretty pale skin taking on pink tones, her lips drawing back to reveal her blunt teeth, as though that were a threat.
Vrok but it was such a shame her race was so weak. He’d enjoy her. Enjoy her spirit, her anger. Things like that fed Balthus, fed his passion and drive. Most of his relationships had been with females from races who had successfully bred with his brothers in the hopes he could recreate their success, but the relationships themselves were without emotion, passionless.
Balthus wanted strong sons to contribute to the growth of their races, feed the Protectorate machine and maybe, they could find females to breed themselves someday.
An image flitted through Balthus’s mind. Two girls, identical to one another and their mother. Her, Erica. Acute longing tore through Balthus’s chest. Their eyes would hold the same fire as their mother, he knew it deep in his core and for that moment they were as real to him as Erica was.
Then they were gone.
Balthus pushed it aside. He would love to have daughters, and perhaps these females could give them to his people, though that was yet to be proven, but even if it were, what was emotion to logic? What was emotion to the desire to provide sons for his people.
Balthus turned from the female, just as her eyes found his. He could see the spark of annoyance in her eyes, along with something else. Even as he turned to Thanesh’s office, he wanted to turn back, but refused the instinct.
Strong sons and nothing less.