The manner in which emotion builds, shifts, and intensifies between characters can make or break a storyline. The goal is to enrapture, to hold, and to physically make the heart beat a little bit faster as the mind interprets the written words. The reader feels everything too. That’s magic.
“Jenna paced back and forth across the short length of the lodge, still muttering her favorite Swedish curses, with a few Minsi mixed in. By the Creator, she would face the arrogant bastard down this time! She didn’t care if he beat her in return; for once she was going to tell him what she really thought of him.
When Running Wolf flipped back the door-flap and strode into the lodge, a sharp, clay pot struck him soundly in the chest, causing him to exhale loudly.
“Du kan dra at helvet,” she snarled in Swedish, breathing heavily. “You can go to hell!”
She had lit the little torches on the walls and they illuminated her anger as if a fiery aura emanated from her body. He was taken aback for a moment by the intensity of her attack. Her green eyes flashed at him, glimmering with the threat of tears.
“How dare you continue to treat me like… like your dog!” When he still didn’t answer, she cursed and threw another pot at him, missing this time.
His anger flared again, white hot and consuming. No female had ever spoken to him with such complete disrespect. The little witch had crossed the line this time, intentionally provoking his male pride and fury in such a manner.
Jenna watched the brave’s jaw clench and his eyes harden, but she felt out of control. Her tears started to spill over, blinding and humiliating her. And now, the bastard was causing her to cry yet again!
Tossing her hair out of her eyes, she reached for another missile to fling at him. Before her fingers had even wrapped around the closest suitable object, Running Wolf crossed the room and took her by the arms. He shook her so hard that her teeth rattled in her head.
Jenna tried to bring up her knee against his groin, but Running Wolf had wrapped his hand in her loosened hair, forcefully yanking her neck backward. She couldn’t move. It hurt even to struggle. Her breath came in gasps as he bent over her, growling in her ear. “I have never physically hurt a woman before, but you must understand that with you I am at my very limit.”
Jenna choked back a sob, refusing to give in to her fear. “Go ahead and beat me if it makes you feel like a big… strong… man.” He clenched his jaw at her taunting words, and his vise-like grip tightened, painfully crushing her entire body against his. His bare chest and legs felt like unrelenting granite. She could feel his heart pounding as fast as her own, his erratic beats fueled by fury.
Jenna lifted her eyes to his, intent on staring him down. The dark and wild look in them made her go cold down to her very toes. They were black as pitch, smoldering with fury. And with lust. The fear she thought she had conquered rushed through her suddenly, intensifying as he slowly smiled.
“So Brown Eagle has kissed you now. Perhaps I should show you again what a man feels like, little one,” he whispered.
So reader, is your heart beating faster?
Excerpt from Savage Forest, by author Jessica Leigh