This is what I draw now to write by.
Thanks for sharing a moment with us. Look on Pinterest to see my first renderings of how I saw “Dagger” sketched on a piece of cardboard which translated into the first cover pic. I stopped using that cover because not all the characters are tiger sharks and I didn’t want to give the impression they were.
If you think the next cover should show the hero in his true form, tigershark shifter please leave a comment. The pic to the left is what I made up as I write “Blade” book II. This helps to keep him visually correct in my mind. It is not the cover. Your comments are helpful.
–Now to our scene “Night Visit” from Dagger–
NO MATTER HOW deep into the ocean she stared, the morning played out the same. She rode on the back of a tiger shark and lived to cry about it.
Yes, cry. She cried all day with nervous excitement. Over the sink, in the car, at the ATM machine, everywhere.
She never called Jack, something she would have done without hesitation before the dreams started.
There was no doubt in her mind she loved him. However, he wasn’t the man for her. The man she loved wasn’t even a man. At least he didn’t exist outside of her dreams. Both Jim and Jack saw it. No, holding onto Jack wasn’t fair.
She knelt on the warm deck chair; the day’s heat soaked through her favorite pajamas. She set the bowl of popcorn on the patio table and slumped down in the chair. Toes crunched under her, she closed her eyes and soaked in the quiet beach. The rushing surf, rustling reed grass, and soft clicking in the background made for a perfect evening to relax under the full moon.
Wait, clicking noise? Gripping the edge of the chair, she slowly sat forward. Who or what made that clicking noise? she thought as she grabbed her small Maglite flashlight, placed her feet on the deck, and stood along the railing. Hitching up her baggy pajama bottoms, she crept out onto the sand, her feet sinking into its cool gritty floor.
She switched the beam of light from the sand, where turtles would begin burying their eggs soon, to out over the crashing waves foaming along the shoreline she walked the beach.
Dusk began to pull the homes into its shadows and saltwater tugged at the hem of her pants. The no-porch-lights rule while the turtles laid their eggs made the beach darker sooner. In addition, the only two houses with living room lights on were Jim’s and Mrs. Crumb’s on the far end, and she left hers on all night, so she might be in the bed already.
The cool waves clamored up her ankles, foaming around her feet and giving her goose bumps. The dark night welcomed her. Where was her shark tonight?
With the butt of her flashlight, she scrolled T-Bone in the sand. A wide smile opened up her face. Everyone else had a dog… she had a tiger shark.
With a good stretch overhead, she glanced out over the sea. Not up for a swim tonight, she trekked toward her deck, wet sand clumping over her feet.
There was that sound again.
Click. Click. Click.
“Alright, Jim. Don’t play.” She walked backward toward her deck. Hoping this was a night his daughter, Rachael, couldn’t sleep and they were out for a stroll along the surf. “I get it. I scared you this morning. How do you think I felt knowing I’d just cut my finger in the ocean with a goliath of a shark circling me?” Nothing came into view as she threw glances up and down the beach. “You know I don’t scare easily, Jim, but now is not a good time to get me back. Seriously, Jim, I’ll buy top shelf for your party tomorrow, just don’t play with me right now.”
A gentle breeze lifted the ends of her short, feathered hair. She scrubbed at the unnerving sensation. The voice rode in on another wave.
“Drew. It’s time to come home.”
Something moved out in the water… bright and white. She clenched the porch rail under her hand. The figure emerged out of the darkness, wet and tall. She stumbled up the stairs, hitting her heel on the stair rung. She cursed out, but not taking the moment to rub her bruised heel.
As he came closer to shore, her hands shook on the railing. He was blue. Stomach acids burned up her throat and fear itched under her skin like red ants, biting her joints. He had long, white hair and rivulets of water snaked down his muscled, exotic dancer thighs, then down his knees, and then his shins. Her eyes popped wide, he was naked, almost. An almost naked man walked out of the water toward her. Why was she still outside?
“Drew. Do not run. I will not hurt you. Look at me. It is time to come home.” He stalked closer, blocking out the view of the ocean with his wide shoulders.
I hope you enjoyed.
Sincerely, Cora Blu