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Book Summary
Salome Jones has been sent on a forced vacation by her overworked staff. Canticus has been exiled because he won't play nice with the women administrators who oversee the games on his planet. When the two of them end up stuck in the same hotel suite, sparks fly. So do clothes and limbs. Can the two arrive at a solution that will allow them to continue their sexual explorations?
Excerpt:
Mirror, Mirror: Gladiator
Alice Gaines
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Alice Gaines
This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
Tavoro Sands Resort: "A Feast for the Senses."
"The senses" must mean sore muscles from struggling with luggage. You'd think a place that advertised luxury would have someone to take your bags up to your room.
After years of international business trips, Salome Jones had learned how to travel light, but this time, her staff had packed for her and presented her with the suitcases, the airline tickets, and an ultimatum... "Go on a vacation, or we all quit." Who knew what they'd put in the bags? It all weighed a ton, and she'd had to drag it across the lobby and stuff it into the elevator on her own.
Said elevator continued its climb to the twenty-sixth floor. At least she'd have a good view of the ocean as she contemplated her navel. The gang had informed her, as well, that no business calls or e-mails would receive an answer. The company would putter along without her, and the rest of the staff would get something done for a change.
An insurrection. That's what it was. With a huge IPO for the latest social media site next week, European sunshine futures on the line, and a time bomb on the Yen about to go off, her people had pulled the rug out from under her. She'd note the insubordination in all their performance appraisals the minute she got back. She'd do it now if they hadn't taken her company cell phone away.
She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, but the elevator didn't climb any faster. Instead, she only got an image of herself in the mirrored walls. That, in itself, was pretty weird. With all the sides catching reflections of all the other sides, she seemed caught in a kaleidoscope of herself. An impatient, red-headed woman with the beginnings of wrinkles at a too-young age. A bit on the thin side but tall enough to intimidate most women and a lot of men. Still dressed in the business suit she'd put on probably twenty-four hours before.
The climb to twenty-six slowed -- slowed! -- and then came to a complete stop. She went to push the buttons, but somehow, they'd disappeared. They'd been there before, and now nothing.
"Hello," she shouted. "Can someone hear me?"
No answer. She was probably trapped between floors, but who could tell? She might as well be in a mirrored coffin.
"Hello!" She pounded her palms against the wall. "Help. I'm trapped."
Some vacation. She'd take this out of Jeanne's hide, and when she'd finished with her, she'd chew on Ted for a while. She'd kick Charlie into next Sunday. They worked for her, damn it. She never should have let them talk her into this trip. "Hellooooooooo!"
One wall vanished -- whoosh -- showing the living room of a hotel suite. For a second, she jumped back at the shock, but she recovered quickly and reached out her hand to where the mirror had been. Her fingers met glass. There was still a barrier, just a transparent one. Maybe she could smash through it.
She bent to open one of her bags, searching for something to use as a battering ram. She didn't find anything more lethal than a shoe, but she grabbed that and straightened. She jumped and dropped it at the new sight in the glass.
The image had changed again... the same living room, but now, a man stood just on the other side, staring at her as if she'd surprised him as much as he had her.
Huge and muscular and dressed in the costume of a Roman gladiator. Not exactly that, maybe, but a "skirt" of leather panels exposed his calves, knees, and firm, firm thighs. For armor, he wore a breastplate engraved with some royal crest, but his arms were bare except for golden bracelets that circled his biceps. Those seemed as firm as his legs, and marred here and there with scars. He'd taken some hits with swords or spears, but that did little to diminish his beauty. Gorgeous. A splendid male specimen.
When she finally got around to looking at his face, she found that as wild and appealing as the rest of him. A piercing blue gaze stared back at her with as much interest as she had in him.
He seemed to sniff the air around him, like a huge cat, smelling his mate. Tawny, ragged hair nearly to his shoulders made him resemble a lion. He might start roaring any minute. If he did, she'd answer.
Somehow, he reached for her. The glass seemed to melt around his fingers as his hands went through. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back into the suite with him. The passage should have hurt, or at least, she should have felt something. Instead, she made an effortless transition from what had been an elevator and then a sort of cell.
Now fully in the room, she went directly into his embrace. Not that she'd had any choice in the matter as he tugged her roughly against him.
"Female," he growled...
copyright 2011 Changeling Press, LLC
http://www.blogger.com/Mirror,%20Mirror:%20%20Gladiator
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
New release! Beach Master
Lookee here! Chains on the beach.
I jumped at the chance to write a light bondage story with a hunky guy on a desert island.
A sexy island paradise, a strong dominant lover… what more could a frigid girl want?
Berni Fellowes’s has a problem. She just doesn’t get all the hoopla about sex. When her fiancé sends her to a secluded, tropical island to meet the Beach Master, a Dom who can teach her to be more orgasmic, she decides the tall, seductive stranger is more interested in setting up her hammock than dominating her.
David needs a partner who can stand up for herself, not this woman who’s afraid of her own desires. But once Berni finds her voice and demands what she wants, all David has left to do is make her his own. There’s just that one little matter of her fiancé…
Beach Master
I jumped at the chance to write a light bondage story with a hunky guy on a desert island.
A sexy island paradise, a strong dominant lover… what more could a frigid girl want?
Berni Fellowes’s has a problem. She just doesn’t get all the hoopla about sex. When her fiancé sends her to a secluded, tropical island to meet the Beach Master, a Dom who can teach her to be more orgasmic, she decides the tall, seductive stranger is more interested in setting up her hammock than dominating her.
David needs a partner who can stand up for herself, not this woman who’s afraid of her own desires. But once Berni finds her voice and demands what she wants, all David has left to do is make her his own. There’s just that one little matter of her fiancé…
Beach Master
Friday, May 6, 2011
Now available -- Make Me Beg
http://ebooks.eharlequin.com/91109FB1-A6E0-47E7-847B-6343998895BE/10/141/en/ContentDetails.htm?ID=474AC467-7E7B-4F5A-8A09-6148EDB10C95
I'm so excited! My third Spice Brief is available at E-Harlequin.
Rake Thomas Boulton no sooner decides to abstain from pleasures of the flesh than he meets the most arousing woman he's ever encountered. Widow Olivia Trent is clever, confident...and determined to beat him at the game of seduction. She challenges him to play sensual games until one of them pleads to be bedded. Thomas is sure he will soon have Olivia at his mercy—or will he be the one forced to beg?
Make Me Beg
I'm so excited! My third Spice Brief is available at E-Harlequin.
Rake Thomas Boulton no sooner decides to abstain from pleasures of the flesh than he meets the most arousing woman he's ever encountered. Widow Olivia Trent is clever, confident...and determined to beat him at the game of seduction. She challenges him to play sensual games until one of them pleads to be bedded. Thomas is sure he will soon have Olivia at his mercy—or will he be the one forced to beg?
Make Me Beg
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Guest blogger, Em Petrova: A Banana is Not Just a Banana
Most of us have seen those annoying ads while surfing the web or Facebook that say if you never eat a banana, you’ll lose belly fat. Well, I’m here to tell you if eat a banana, you’ll increase your sex drive. Yep! No lie. Bananas are rich in potassium and B vitamins—necessities for sex hormone production—and its phallic shape has long been the reason it’s an aphrodisiac food. The encyclopedia states that an aphrodisiac is anything that “arouses sexual excitement.” Keep reading to learn ways to use foods to excite your lover, and then make your shopping list in preparation for a fun evening!
Aphrodisiacs were first sought out as a remedy for sexual anxieties. Fears of inadequate performance and the need to increase fertility drove people to search for ways to insure male and female potency. In olden times, food wasn’t as readily available as it is today, so nutrition factored into loss of libido and reduction in fertility rates. Substances that represent seed or semen such as bulbs, eggs or snails were heralded to have sexual powers. And foods that had a physical resemblance to genitalia were considered stimulating. Hmm. I’m thinking of a few, are you?
Other aphrodisiac foods started in Greek mythology. Aphrodite, the love goddess considered sparrows to have an “amorous nature” and therefore used them in aphrodisiac brews. (I’m envisioning little feathers sticking out of people’s mouths, are you?) The ancient list of aphrodisiac foods includes anise, basil, carrot, salvia, pistachio nuts, sage, sea fennel, turnips and orchid bulbs amongst many others. Here are a few from the modern lists.
Almond: A fertility symbol throughout time. The aroma is thought to induce female passions. So guys should slather themselves in almond oil and then serve Marzipan (almond paste) in the shape of a fig leaf as a dessert.
Aniseed: Has been an aphrodisiac since the Greeks and Romans believed it had special powers. Sucking on the seeds is said to increase your desire. Is that why my Italian grandmother used to sprinkle the seeds onto her tongue? Okay, that will give me nightmares later.
Chocolate: Ohhh, here is one we women can get into, right? The Aztecs referred to chocolate as “nourishment of the gods.” It contains an antioxidant similar to red wine. The secret is to combine the two. A glass of Cabernet with a bit of dark chocolate is a sensuous treat for you and your mate.
Carrots: The phallus-shaped carrot has been believed to stimulate the male since ancient times. It was used in the Middle Eastern royalty to aid seduction. If you’re using it, guys, we like ‘em thick.
Coffee: Small amounts of rich dark coffee in little cups will stimulate both the mind and body. Good for those all-nighters.
Ginger: Raw, cooked or crystallized ginger root is a stimulant to the circulatory system. Try it in a stir-fry and stir up some passions in the bedroom later.
Honey: Medieval lovers plied their partners with Mead, a fermented drink made from honey. Newlyweds drank it on their wedding nights. But I bet you can come up with some better uses for honey than fermenting it. Like drizzling it on flesh.
Pineapple: It’s rich in vitamin C and used homeopathically for impotence. Add it to enough rum and you’ll be dancing in the sheets.
Vanilla: Old lore states that “the young daughter of the Mexican fertility goddess loved a Totonac youth. Unable to marry him due to her divine nature, she transformed herself into a plant that would provide pleasure and happiness.” I wouldn’t suggest transforming yourself to a vanilla plant to sate your lover, but the scent and flavor of vanilla is believed to increase lust. Use some vanilla lotion on your partner for a delicious massage, or drop a vanilla bean into a glass of champagne to heat things up.
Next time you’re feeling a lull in the bedroom, try some of these aphrodisiac foods to spur new passions. As a writer, I know my characters will employ a few in the future. Now how many uses can I come up with for the banana?
Em Petrova
Isolde’s Wish—an erotic medieval fantasy by Em Petrova
Buy Link: http://www.loose-id.com/Isoldes-Wish.aspx
Blurb:
With a wild boar on her heels and a naked man before her, Princess Isolde has no clue which danger is greater. When she trips and falls into the dirt at the feet of the axe-wielding warrior, giving her a very close encounter with his manhood, she battles her undeniable awareness of the sculpted man even after she finds he has a price on his head for attempting to assassinate her father, King Adlard.
The bold son of the man executed for sleeping with the king’s wife, Sadler attempted to avenge his father at a very young age. Now he’s faced with the temptation of King Adlard’s daughter and presented a fresh opportunity to right his failed assassination attempt.
But when he learns a powerful earl seeks the princess’s hand in marriage, Sadler realizes his passions run deep. Desperate to keep her from the arms of his enemy, he plans to steal her away from the kingdom and make her his own.
Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4vCuWLb1_w
Excerpt:
What the hell had she been thinking to run toward the loch? The cold mist seared Isolde’s lungs, and a bloody cry welled on her tongue, prepared to lick outward at the first sound of the demon creature on her heels. Her silk slippers dug into the soft earth with a squelching noise not unlike the beat of hooves. She strained to hear its movements in the wild tangle of underbrush. It circled her, herding her almost.
Nay. Best not to think of such things. Isolde had the upper hand. She could outthink any man in the castle. Certainly she could outwit this pig. Except the pig wasn’t wearing ten pounds of fabric.
Still, the voice in the back of her head told her it was lunacy to run toward the loch. What would happen when she reached the water’s edge? She couldn’t swim a stroke, and in this damned confining brocade gown, she’d sink like a stone.
Behind her she heard the drum of hooves in the thick foliage. Adrenaline shot through her veins, propelling her legs faster. Branches lashed at her face and plucked at her gown. Her fingers cramped from holding up her heavy skirts, and the high grasses stung her bare calves. The pines gave way to leafier trees, and soon she would break through the deep woods and onto the shores of the loch.
The beast closed in on her, grunting and gasping in a way that made her think of the men sawing logs for the castle’s new android horse paddock. These mechanical horses needed good, strong fencing that could keep their heavy metal bodies from escaping during a stampede, which frequently happened when they were frightened.
A flash of bristly black hair flickered in the corner of her eye, and she veered sharply left, away from it. The scream was poised on her lips now, ready to be released into the empty woods. Even her strongest bloodcurdling scream would bring no one. She was too far from the castle for even the field workers to hear.
And that beast had tusks like spears on it. She’d be killed for sure, even if she didn’t drown first trying to escape. Could pigs swim?
Back and forth she zigzagged through the woods, thigh muscles burning and forearms tense from holding the weight of her skirts. She fought to remain upright as she forged a path through the web of tree roots. Her throat was clogged with fear.
With a shriek that raised the hair on her neck, the wild boar rushed her. Its meaty body struck the backs of her legs. She pitched forward, releasing her skirts to instinctively catch herself and nearly breaking her neck as she tripped over the mass of spun-gold fabric.
Righting herself, she continued to bolt toward the loch, knowing no other course now, but hoping someone had left a mist boat moored there. The mist on the loch was thick enough to power a lightweight boat halfway around the perimeter of the country. If she could only reach a boat, she’d fire up the engine and race to the middle of the loch, far from the beast pursuing her.
The thunder of hooves bore down upon her. She lunged through a wall of vines, tripping and wheeling, blinded by greenery, branches scratching her face, heels over head, only to fall at the feet of a naked man.
Buy Link: http://www.loose-id.com/Isoldes-Wish.aspx
Thursday, March 3, 2011
New release of old stories
Changeling Press
Demons R Us: When a mysterious book of spells drops into Vicky’s lap, she decides to summon a demon to evict her soon-to-be-ex -- and his girlfriend. Asmodai and Ilbris don’t want her soul in exchange for their help. They want her body.
Eria’s Ménage: On the distant planet Heriad, Queen Eria, needs an heir. A daughter conceived in the royal manner. Suitors from around the galaxy have assembled. Tad and Brath have a plan of their own… and it’s not a temporary arrangement.
Fairy in My Bed: Steve can’t believe who, or what, has let herself in through the cat door. She’s twelve inches tall and claims to be a fairy. His third wish takes them both by surprise!
Sexation: Carly Osborn’s found just what every flagging marriage needs -- a little green man on a sex vacation to Earth! But when It the Twenty-third’s vacation comes to an end, will they be able to convince him to stay?
Adventures of Wonderslut: Mild-mannered orchid grower Felicity Plumswindle has a secret identity -- Wonderslut, Avenger of the Non-Orgasmic. She travels the country rewarding caring lovers and punishing insensitive ones. Not only are the government morality police hot on her tail, but she’s also feeling the need for a hero of her own…
Friday, February 25, 2011
Welcome Guest Blogger, Rayne Hall
DELECTABLE DAGGERS
The Writer's Most Useful Weapon
For historical fiction, a dagger is the ideal weapon: plausible in many scenarios, and loaded with emotional connotations. Yet, its under-used, because few writers grasp the dagger's fiction potential.
PLAUSIBLE AND VERSATILE
Many authors write sword fight scenes where a dagger fight would be more plausible. Swords are large and heavy, cumbersome to carry, slow to draw, and almost impossible to conceal. In many situations, it's unlikely that a protagonist happens to carry a sword with him. By contrast, daggers are small, lightweight, quick to draw, and easy to conceal - perfect for quick responses, spontaneous action, brawls, suicide bids, self-defence and assassination.
While only people of wealth and rank can afford a sword, owning a dagger is feasible for all but the poorest. Wielding a dagger requires only moderate strength, which makes it plausible weapon for a lady. Even an injured person may be able to summon the strength for a final defence with a dagger.
For almost every scene, the dagger is a better choice than the sword (the exceptions are horseback fights and battle scenes).
The concealment offers exciting fictional opportunities. Typically, a dagger is carried in a leather sheath on the belt, easily concealed under a cloak if required. For secrecy, it can also be hidden in a boot or in a bodice. Indeed, during the renaissance, it was quite common for women to carry a dagger between their breasts (the sheath was sewn into the bodice). A dagger can also be concealed in the back of the bodice or in a hair ornament. The heroine, preparing to fight off a lecherous advance or to assassinate an enemy, can pretend to twist her necklace anxiously, or to fidget with her hair, and quickly draw the blade. Bodice daggers hilts without cross guards.
Here's a picture of a bodice dagger: www.knifemaker.co.uk/Gallery/Gallery%20Images/Art%20Images/Bodice/bodice.html
EXCITING CONNOTATIONS
Besides its many practical uses, the dagger carries a lot of emotional and erotic symbolism.
To stab someone with a dagger, the fighter has to get close, which makes it one of the most intimate weapons. When the dagger penetrates the flesh, the hand almost touches the victim. This is very different from a bullet or arrow, which can be shot from a great distance. The closeness creates an intensely personal connection between attacker and victim. Daggers (and knives of all kinds) are often used in fights where emotions are running high: gang warfare, hate crime, vengeance.
The shape of the weapon and the fact that it's typically worn on the belt make it a symbol of male virility. In many cultures and periods, men demonstrated their manhood by displaying ornate daggers at the front of their hips, the bigger, the better.
Sometimes the hilt rather than the blade was exaggerated: Many daggers from 1200 to 1800, especially in England and Scotland, had huge, stiff, upwards-pointing wooden hilts with balls on either side. They were unblushingly called a 'bollocks daggers' (or 'ballock daggers'). Here's a picture of a ballock dagger (be prepared to gasp):
www.castlerockmuseum.com/exhibits/daggers/DA03.1/index.php
In addition, the motion of sliding a dagger into or out of the sheath can be highly suggestive. Talk about daggers lends itself to suggestive dialogue, with comments like 'Nice weapon. Are you any good at wielding it?', 'Want to see my other dagger, babe?', 'Does your dagger need polishing?', 'So you like swordplay, Milady? How about daggerplay?'
DAGGERS MAKE GREAT VISUALS
Book cover designers love daggers, especially when depicting the hero. They adore the chance to imply male virility. The elongated weapon on the hero's belt - or in the heroine's hand - hints at other things.
A dagger on the cover may increase your book's sex appeal, so it's worth telling your cover designer about it. However, many cover artists get carried away by the concept, with cringe-worthy results. I've seen covers where the hero wore the naked blade in his belt without sheath: a prelude to self-mutilation!
HOW TO WRITE A DAGGER FIGHT SCENE
All fight scenes are fast-paced, and dagger scenes are the fastest of them all. Use all the fast-pace techniques you know, e.g. short paragraphs, short sentences, short words. Focus especially on verbs: cut, stab, pierce, act, slash, thrust, target, push, drive, force, press, duck, poke, kill.
Words with 'k' sounds are especially effective for dagger fights: duck, poke, cry, hack, kill.
Daggers are stabbing weapons with sharp points, usually with long, thin blades. When describing a stab wound, show blood spreading or oozing. The aim in a fight is to stab a vital organ. Stabbing directly at the chest seldom works, because the blade may glance off the ribs. If the fighter has dagger experience or anatomical knowledge, she will position the dagger below the ribcage and drive it upwards (through the diaphragm into the lungs). This is lethal and works from the front or from behind. If she knows her anatomy well (e.g. if she's a professional assassin), and if the dagger is long enough, she can aim for piercing the heart, which leads to a quicker death. Trained assassins know additional spots where a stab is lethal, e.g. under the armpit or under the chin.
Some daggers are designed for slashing as well as stabbing. These have one or two sharp edges. When describing a slash wound, show a lot of blood, streaming or even spurting. The aim in a fight with this type of dagger is either to slash the opponent's throat, or to disable him by cutting tendons, muscles or ligaments (followed with a deadly stab). Fights with slashing daggers are very bloody. The point-of-view character's hand may grow slick with blood, and her grip on the weapon may become less firm.
If you're aiming for a sanitised, gore-free version of a dagger fight - e.g. for a romance novel -, you may want to stick to pure stabbing daggers.
ASSASSINATION
For an assassination scene, give your assassin stealth and knowledge of human anatomy. An assassin will plan in advance how to kill the victim, and carry out the killing with calm efficiency. It will be with a single stroke, probably a determined thrust from below the ribs.
VENGEANCE
An attacker who is motivated by intense feelings, such as outrage or hatred, will stab the victim repeatedly, and keep stabbing, perhaps even after the victim is already dead. If the motive is long-held hatred, the attacker may stab or slash the victim's face, disfiguring it.
DUELS
If both fighters are armed with daggers, the fight may include wrestling-type moves as each tries to restrict the other's weapon hand.
They will also try to disable each other's weapon arm, for example by slashing the inside of the elbow. Such fights are often fuelled by emotions, intense, irrational, very bloody, and fatal.
You can watch a demonstration of dagger fighting with wrestling moves here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=z143thJWRBQ
SWORD&DAGGER IN COMBINATION
If a fighter expects a fight, e.g. in a battle, he may use both sword and dagger. He fights with the sword in his right hand and the dagger in his left. This was common during the renaissance.
You can watch a sword&dagger demonstration here:
www.youtube.com/results?search_query=dagger+rapier+fight+cold+steel&aq=f
The versatility of the dagger, combined with its symbolism and connotations, makes it a perfect weapon for historical fiction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rayne Hall writes dark fantasy and horror. She has published more than twenty books under different pen names in different genres, and her stories have earned Honorable Mentions in 'The Years' Best Fantasy and Horror'. She holds a college degree in publishing management and a masters degree in creative writing, and teaches online classes.
Even if you've never wielded a weapon, you can write an exciting fight scene. Rayne will show you how, in her workshops on 'Writing Fight Scenes'.
The next workshops are:
March 2011: www.celtichearts.org/workshops.html
June 2011: www.romance-ffp.com/event.cfm?EventID=303
The Writer's Most Useful Weapon
For historical fiction, a dagger is the ideal weapon: plausible in many scenarios, and loaded with emotional connotations. Yet, its under-used, because few writers grasp the dagger's fiction potential.
PLAUSIBLE AND VERSATILE
Many authors write sword fight scenes where a dagger fight would be more plausible. Swords are large and heavy, cumbersome to carry, slow to draw, and almost impossible to conceal. In many situations, it's unlikely that a protagonist happens to carry a sword with him. By contrast, daggers are small, lightweight, quick to draw, and easy to conceal - perfect for quick responses, spontaneous action, brawls, suicide bids, self-defence and assassination.
While only people of wealth and rank can afford a sword, owning a dagger is feasible for all but the poorest. Wielding a dagger requires only moderate strength, which makes it plausible weapon for a lady. Even an injured person may be able to summon the strength for a final defence with a dagger.
For almost every scene, the dagger is a better choice than the sword (the exceptions are horseback fights and battle scenes).
The concealment offers exciting fictional opportunities. Typically, a dagger is carried in a leather sheath on the belt, easily concealed under a cloak if required. For secrecy, it can also be hidden in a boot or in a bodice. Indeed, during the renaissance, it was quite common for women to carry a dagger between their breasts (the sheath was sewn into the bodice). A dagger can also be concealed in the back of the bodice or in a hair ornament. The heroine, preparing to fight off a lecherous advance or to assassinate an enemy, can pretend to twist her necklace anxiously, or to fidget with her hair, and quickly draw the blade. Bodice daggers hilts without cross guards.
Here's a picture of a bodice dagger: www.knifemaker.co.uk/Gallery/Gallery%20Images/Art%20Images/Bodice/bodice.html
EXCITING CONNOTATIONS
Besides its many practical uses, the dagger carries a lot of emotional and erotic symbolism.
To stab someone with a dagger, the fighter has to get close, which makes it one of the most intimate weapons. When the dagger penetrates the flesh, the hand almost touches the victim. This is very different from a bullet or arrow, which can be shot from a great distance. The closeness creates an intensely personal connection between attacker and victim. Daggers (and knives of all kinds) are often used in fights where emotions are running high: gang warfare, hate crime, vengeance.
The shape of the weapon and the fact that it's typically worn on the belt make it a symbol of male virility. In many cultures and periods, men demonstrated their manhood by displaying ornate daggers at the front of their hips, the bigger, the better.
Sometimes the hilt rather than the blade was exaggerated: Many daggers from 1200 to 1800, especially in England and Scotland, had huge, stiff, upwards-pointing wooden hilts with balls on either side. They were unblushingly called a 'bollocks daggers' (or 'ballock daggers'). Here's a picture of a ballock dagger (be prepared to gasp):
www.castlerockmuseum.com/exhibits/daggers/DA03.1/index.php
In addition, the motion of sliding a dagger into or out of the sheath can be highly suggestive. Talk about daggers lends itself to suggestive dialogue, with comments like 'Nice weapon. Are you any good at wielding it?', 'Want to see my other dagger, babe?', 'Does your dagger need polishing?', 'So you like swordplay, Milady? How about daggerplay?'
DAGGERS MAKE GREAT VISUALS
Book cover designers love daggers, especially when depicting the hero. They adore the chance to imply male virility. The elongated weapon on the hero's belt - or in the heroine's hand - hints at other things.
A dagger on the cover may increase your book's sex appeal, so it's worth telling your cover designer about it. However, many cover artists get carried away by the concept, with cringe-worthy results. I've seen covers where the hero wore the naked blade in his belt without sheath: a prelude to self-mutilation!
HOW TO WRITE A DAGGER FIGHT SCENE
All fight scenes are fast-paced, and dagger scenes are the fastest of them all. Use all the fast-pace techniques you know, e.g. short paragraphs, short sentences, short words. Focus especially on verbs: cut, stab, pierce, act, slash, thrust, target, push, drive, force, press, duck, poke, kill.
Words with 'k' sounds are especially effective for dagger fights: duck, poke, cry, hack, kill.
Daggers are stabbing weapons with sharp points, usually with long, thin blades. When describing a stab wound, show blood spreading or oozing. The aim in a fight is to stab a vital organ. Stabbing directly at the chest seldom works, because the blade may glance off the ribs. If the fighter has dagger experience or anatomical knowledge, she will position the dagger below the ribcage and drive it upwards (through the diaphragm into the lungs). This is lethal and works from the front or from behind. If she knows her anatomy well (e.g. if she's a professional assassin), and if the dagger is long enough, she can aim for piercing the heart, which leads to a quicker death. Trained assassins know additional spots where a stab is lethal, e.g. under the armpit or under the chin.
Some daggers are designed for slashing as well as stabbing. These have one or two sharp edges. When describing a slash wound, show a lot of blood, streaming or even spurting. The aim in a fight with this type of dagger is either to slash the opponent's throat, or to disable him by cutting tendons, muscles or ligaments (followed with a deadly stab). Fights with slashing daggers are very bloody. The point-of-view character's hand may grow slick with blood, and her grip on the weapon may become less firm.
If you're aiming for a sanitised, gore-free version of a dagger fight - e.g. for a romance novel -, you may want to stick to pure stabbing daggers.
ASSASSINATION
For an assassination scene, give your assassin stealth and knowledge of human anatomy. An assassin will plan in advance how to kill the victim, and carry out the killing with calm efficiency. It will be with a single stroke, probably a determined thrust from below the ribs.
VENGEANCE
An attacker who is motivated by intense feelings, such as outrage or hatred, will stab the victim repeatedly, and keep stabbing, perhaps even after the victim is already dead. If the motive is long-held hatred, the attacker may stab or slash the victim's face, disfiguring it.
DUELS
If both fighters are armed with daggers, the fight may include wrestling-type moves as each tries to restrict the other's weapon hand.
They will also try to disable each other's weapon arm, for example by slashing the inside of the elbow. Such fights are often fuelled by emotions, intense, irrational, very bloody, and fatal.
You can watch a demonstration of dagger fighting with wrestling moves here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=z143thJWRBQ
SWORD&DAGGER IN COMBINATION
If a fighter expects a fight, e.g. in a battle, he may use both sword and dagger. He fights with the sword in his right hand and the dagger in his left. This was common during the renaissance.
You can watch a sword&dagger demonstration here:
www.youtube.com/results?search_query=dagger+rapier+fight+cold+steel&aq=f
The versatility of the dagger, combined with its symbolism and connotations, makes it a perfect weapon for historical fiction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rayne Hall writes dark fantasy and horror. She has published more than twenty books under different pen names in different genres, and her stories have earned Honorable Mentions in 'The Years' Best Fantasy and Horror'. She holds a college degree in publishing management and a masters degree in creative writing, and teaches online classes.
Even if you've never wielded a weapon, you can write an exciting fight scene. Rayne will show you how, in her workshops on 'Writing Fight Scenes'.
The next workshops are:
March 2011: www.celtichearts.org/workshops.html
June 2011: www.romance-ffp.com/event.cfm?EventID=303
Friday, February 4, 2011
Coming February 18th...Moon Bitten
Jared turned to go, but for some reason, the hairs on the back of his neck chose that instant to stand on end as if the air had taken on an electric current.
“Jared Scott?” a husky female voice said from behind him. Not Gloria. Another woman had arrived.
He turned back. “Well, finally.”
“I told you she was perfect,” Gloria chirped.
Amanda didn’t appear to appreciate that assessment any more than he did. She scowled at the receptionist for a second and then gave him the once over.
He did the same for her. Nearly as tall as his own six feet, she stood straight, her chin lifted, as she stared at him out of eyes the color of dark sapphires. Pale skin and black hair done up in a rigid twist completed the picture of someone formidable, even severe. The two of them likely wouldn’t do any giggling during their relationship.
Relationship? She’d design the execution of his wish. No more.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Jared,” she said.
No formalities, indeed. “I forgive you, Amanda.”
She flinched at that, but only just barely. Someone who spent less time than he did reading people would have missed the slight narrowing of her eyes. Either the forgiveness bit or the pointed use of her first name had irked her. Fine. Only his few friends called him Jared. No one here counted as his friend.
“Well, then. Let’s get on with it.” She headed down a corridor, her long strides taking her away from him and forcing him to catch up. He took his time doing it. For one thing, she could damned well wait for him for a bit. For another, hanging back gave him a good view of her ass.
Though more slender than the pixie-cat, Amanda had her own curves. She wore leggings underneath a bulky sweater, and the movement in there sent his imagination into overdrive. Every swing of her hips, no matter how subtle, suggested the rounding of her buttocks.
By the time she stopped in front of one of the offices, he’d measured her breasts from memory. Small but firm. And when they’d entered and she’d taken her seat behind her desk, he’d already begun to have a very male reaction to her.
She bit her lip and shot him a gaze that went right through his chest and down to his groin. Recognition. She already knew what was happening between them.
“Please, sit down.” Her voice came out as deep as before, but now it had a hint of breathiness as well. She had a husky way of speaking. Something that made her linger for a millisecond on the vowel sounds. Sweet. Seductive.
Before his anatomy embarrassed him completely, he sat and watched her sift through some papers. She didn’t make eye contact, but a flush to her cheeks told him she was as aware of his presence as he was of hers.
After a moment, she picked up one sheet and studied it for a long moment. Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. “This is your wish?”
“To hunt a werewolf. Yes.”
“Why?”
“I suppose you’ve read my dossier,” he answered.
“Everyone in R and D becomes acquainted with the histories of our clients,” she answered. “You’ve served as CEO of a number of companies. Now, you have your own.”
“Government contracts. Top secret much of it.”
She set the paper down and studied him. “Military?”
“Intelligence mostly.” In fact, his agency contacts would take a dim view of his coming here and an even gloomier one if they knew what he’d come here for. None of their damned business. “So, you can see why confidentiality is so important.”
“We never give away information of our clients.” There was that deep tone again. The slow downward inflection on clients.
“Then, we understand each other,” he said.
“Not at all,” she said. “What does your history have to do with your wish?”
“Human beings… ordinary people… how shall I put this?”
She stared at him evenly. Assessing him the way he normally did with others. He had no reason to doubt her intellect, but he seldom encountered an equal. Given that and what her body did to his, she might present a real challenge with more than a little pleasure on the side. Right now, she obviously wasn’t going to help him explain himself.
“I want to hunt the greatest predator on Earth. You’d think that would be a human being,” he went on. “But average people are motivated by only a handful of things. Once you’ve figured out what they want, they’re really rather boring.”
“And so, your interest in werewolves.”
“What a creature. Imagine. The speed and keen senses of the wolf combined with the mind of the human. What kind of opponent one of them would make,” he said.
“Your wish is to hunt one.”
“You can’t hunt big game these days, and honestly, I have no interest. Animals are dumb beasts, and they belong in the wild.”
Another woman might have applauded his kindness. Amanda sat and stared at him out of her startling blue eyes.
“I don’t think the authorities would like me hunting people,” he continued. “But if WishLabz could create a werewolf for me, I could hunt that without breaking the law.”
The room fell into complete silence, and the woman sat across from him like a sphinx, not moving, hardly blinking. After a moment, she leaned back in her chair. “Create a werewolf?”
“You can make magic here, at least according to the people who referred me. I don’t know what sort of technology you have. If you can’t design a credible werewolf for me, you can refund my money.”
“And how would you kill this creature?” she asked. “Shoot it with a high-powered rifle from hundreds of yards away?”
“I didn’t say kill. I said I wanted to hunt it.”
“Killing the target’s the whole point of hunting, isn’t it?” she asked.
“One or both of us might die, I’ll admit,” he answered. “It’ll be dangerous sport.”
“Sport,” she repeated. This time her accent suggested more than a hint of derision.
“I don’t expect you to understand.”
That got a definite reaction -- one eyebrow arching. “Because I’m a woman?”
“Because you’re not in a position of command. I fought like hell to get where I am. Now that I’ve arrived, I miss the fight.”
She nibbled her lower lip for a few seconds. On another woman, the action might have suggested uncertainty. On her, it suggested she needed to gnaw on something and she hadn’t decided if he’d be worth the effort.
“Jared Scott?” a husky female voice said from behind him. Not Gloria. Another woman had arrived.
He turned back. “Well, finally.”
“I told you she was perfect,” Gloria chirped.
Amanda didn’t appear to appreciate that assessment any more than he did. She scowled at the receptionist for a second and then gave him the once over.
He did the same for her. Nearly as tall as his own six feet, she stood straight, her chin lifted, as she stared at him out of eyes the color of dark sapphires. Pale skin and black hair done up in a rigid twist completed the picture of someone formidable, even severe. The two of them likely wouldn’t do any giggling during their relationship.
Relationship? She’d design the execution of his wish. No more.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Jared,” she said.
No formalities, indeed. “I forgive you, Amanda.”
She flinched at that, but only just barely. Someone who spent less time than he did reading people would have missed the slight narrowing of her eyes. Either the forgiveness bit or the pointed use of her first name had irked her. Fine. Only his few friends called him Jared. No one here counted as his friend.
“Well, then. Let’s get on with it.” She headed down a corridor, her long strides taking her away from him and forcing him to catch up. He took his time doing it. For one thing, she could damned well wait for him for a bit. For another, hanging back gave him a good view of her ass.
Though more slender than the pixie-cat, Amanda had her own curves. She wore leggings underneath a bulky sweater, and the movement in there sent his imagination into overdrive. Every swing of her hips, no matter how subtle, suggested the rounding of her buttocks.
By the time she stopped in front of one of the offices, he’d measured her breasts from memory. Small but firm. And when they’d entered and she’d taken her seat behind her desk, he’d already begun to have a very male reaction to her.
She bit her lip and shot him a gaze that went right through his chest and down to his groin. Recognition. She already knew what was happening between them.
“Please, sit down.” Her voice came out as deep as before, but now it had a hint of breathiness as well. She had a husky way of speaking. Something that made her linger for a millisecond on the vowel sounds. Sweet. Seductive.
Before his anatomy embarrassed him completely, he sat and watched her sift through some papers. She didn’t make eye contact, but a flush to her cheeks told him she was as aware of his presence as he was of hers.
After a moment, she picked up one sheet and studied it for a long moment. Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. “This is your wish?”
“To hunt a werewolf. Yes.”
“Why?”
“I suppose you’ve read my dossier,” he answered.
“Everyone in R and D becomes acquainted with the histories of our clients,” she answered. “You’ve served as CEO of a number of companies. Now, you have your own.”
“Government contracts. Top secret much of it.”
She set the paper down and studied him. “Military?”
“Intelligence mostly.” In fact, his agency contacts would take a dim view of his coming here and an even gloomier one if they knew what he’d come here for. None of their damned business. “So, you can see why confidentiality is so important.”
“We never give away information of our clients.” There was that deep tone again. The slow downward inflection on clients.
“Then, we understand each other,” he said.
“Not at all,” she said. “What does your history have to do with your wish?”
“Human beings… ordinary people… how shall I put this?”
She stared at him evenly. Assessing him the way he normally did with others. He had no reason to doubt her intellect, but he seldom encountered an equal. Given that and what her body did to his, she might present a real challenge with more than a little pleasure on the side. Right now, she obviously wasn’t going to help him explain himself.
“I want to hunt the greatest predator on Earth. You’d think that would be a human being,” he went on. “But average people are motivated by only a handful of things. Once you’ve figured out what they want, they’re really rather boring.”
“And so, your interest in werewolves.”
“What a creature. Imagine. The speed and keen senses of the wolf combined with the mind of the human. What kind of opponent one of them would make,” he said.
“Your wish is to hunt one.”
“You can’t hunt big game these days, and honestly, I have no interest. Animals are dumb beasts, and they belong in the wild.”
Another woman might have applauded his kindness. Amanda sat and stared at him out of her startling blue eyes.
“I don’t think the authorities would like me hunting people,” he continued. “But if WishLabz could create a werewolf for me, I could hunt that without breaking the law.”
The room fell into complete silence, and the woman sat across from him like a sphinx, not moving, hardly blinking. After a moment, she leaned back in her chair. “Create a werewolf?”
“You can make magic here, at least according to the people who referred me. I don’t know what sort of technology you have. If you can’t design a credible werewolf for me, you can refund my money.”
“And how would you kill this creature?” she asked. “Shoot it with a high-powered rifle from hundreds of yards away?”
“I didn’t say kill. I said I wanted to hunt it.”
“Killing the target’s the whole point of hunting, isn’t it?” she asked.
“One or both of us might die, I’ll admit,” he answered. “It’ll be dangerous sport.”
“Sport,” she repeated. This time her accent suggested more than a hint of derision.
“I don’t expect you to understand.”
That got a definite reaction -- one eyebrow arching. “Because I’m a woman?”
“Because you’re not in a position of command. I fought like hell to get where I am. Now that I’ve arrived, I miss the fight.”
She nibbled her lower lip for a few seconds. On another woman, the action might have suggested uncertainty. On her, it suggested she needed to gnaw on something and she hadn’t decided if he’d be worth the effort.
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