I’d always been different. I saw objects in the night where others saw emptiness. Large, human shaped shadows, fierce yet beautiful, melting into the darkness. I collected secrets like other women collected bells; afraid to fully trust lest my oddities be exposed.
Until I saw him. He’d been gliding down the street, unshakable confidence in every step. It wasn’t just that he was breathtakingly handsome with perfect features. Something about him drew me. Sucked my focus to him and then tugged at my body. As his eyes met mine, I was entrapped.
No one had noticed him. He’d been right there, just beyond the light, but only I had perceived.
I had to know if he was real. Or maybe I really was crazy. And even when my secret box was blasted wide open, dangers hurled at me like throwing knives, I couldn’t stop until I unraveled his true identity.
I just had to know.
“She was fated to live.”
“Then why must you save her?”
“Often Fate is struck down by dumb luck.”
As I met his black eyes, his puzzled expression deepened. “You’re human…”
“We established that, yes. What I want to know is, if I am human, what does that make you? And why do I notice you when others usually don’t?”
His head cocked to the side. His easy balance, his lethal edge; he was like a blade resting on billowing silk. “Very few humans are able to withstand our pheromones. Fewer still to break a Kolma once it has been placed. You’ve not been trained, that’s obvious, so how is this possible when you’re definitely human? Do you possess the blood of another species?”
I could barely think past the pounding ache of my body, begging to touch him. I needed to get a grip! He was revealing some very interesting factoids that I needed to jot down in my mental notebook.
His nostrils flared. “Charles was right; your arousal is a unique scent. Like a spicy, warm drink on a mid-winter’s night. It rises above other smells, entrancing the mind.”
What part of the writing process do you dread?
Honestly, this part. Right here. Marketing and putting myself out there. I can’t fathom why anyone would care about my likes and dislikes. I wish it was do-able to get a bunch of fans together and go for a riverboat ride or something. Go have a beer or hang out. Facebook has gotten fun because it’s a way to interact with people. I’m having a great time with my beta readers because we joke and talk about making the story better. This written soap box, though, makes me feel little sheepish.
What is your favorite Joke?
I don’t have a favorite. My favorite type of joking is “taking the piss”. Which is poking fun. Banter. That sort of joking isn’t structured.
Where do you get your best ideas?
When I’m doing the mindless part of an accounting job. My mind drifts and worlds are created. Ideas blossom. I sit right down in another world and just imagine the things around me. What the person is like that I’m “looking at”. What adventure might fit in that place. When I spend too long thinking about math, the creative side really comes alive to take some brain power back.
What do you do to relax?
Lately? Sleep. I literally don’t have any time right now without something to do. Any available time is spent wrestling with the most recent story. I used to cook, though. Have a glass of wine and try a new recipe. Or read. I have a big commute right now, and I can’t get out of the contract early, so by the time I get home, I’m beat. Classic bay area story—our commutes are often ridiculous. I can’t wait until mid-feb when the job ends and I can spend the days writing and the nights relaxing. Work hard, play hard.
Tell me what you like in your heroes and about your bedroom scenes.
Hot guys. Muscles. My sex scenes usually stem from romance, so they’re deeper than just bang-bang. They’re capturing the prize. The subtler things in the story are things I like, too. For example, I love a good smelling guy. My male leads will often smell great. I also pay attention to eyes. And smiles. I put the little things in the story, because turn-on’s aren’t all physical acts. Often times the fire is a culmination of the details.
And then explosion.
Then sleep. Or another go.
A wine country native, K.F. Breene moved to San Francisco for college just shy of a decade ago to pursue a lifelong interest in film. As she settled into the vibrant city, it quickly became apparent that, while she thought making and editing films was great fun, she lacked cinematic genius. For that reason, her career path quickly changed direction. Her next goal was a strange childhood interest, conjured at the dining room table while filling out a form. For some reason, her young self wanted to be an accountant. Thinking on it now, she often wonders how she had any friends. Regardless, it was the direction she finally took.
While she could wrangle numbers with the best of 'em, and even though she wore the crown as the most outspoken, belligerent accountant in the world, her mind got as stuffy as her daily routine. It was here that she dusted off her creative hat and began writing. Now she makes movies in her head, not worried about lighting, shutter speed or editing equipment. Turns out, a computer is much easier to manage than a crowd of actors. She should know, she was an actor at one time.
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