Pawned Photos

05 Sunday Jul 2015

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Fantasy, M/F, Short Story

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Author's Notes, Erotica, Fantasy, Fiction, Love, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

Pawned Photos

Short Story (Approx 1900)

The first photo showed up on an otherwise normal Thursday morning. I found it tucked under the cash register, the bottom edge showing just enough to have me scouring my mind for when it might have been hidden. The photo itself had me blinking in surprise to see a twenty-something man with short spiky brown hair grinning back at me in an obvious selfie. The watch display from my pawn shop was fully visible behind him.

I immediately checked my alarms, both the ones bought from ADT and the ones I’d commissioned from a spellcaster. Then I did an inventory, starting with the watches. By the end of the day, I still hadn’t found anything missing, though I had discovered that the man had obviously used my computer, my camera and my printer in order to leave his surprise.

Needless to say, I was angry. Continue reading →

Fateful Hunt

12 Sunday Apr 2015

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Fantasy, M/F, Short Story

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Author's Notes, Erotica, Fiction, Love, Romance, Writing

Fateful Hunt

Short Story (Approx 14200)

Me’nor knew exactly when Nat lost the scent. The poor pup yipped in frustration and fret over the ground-up soil, ruining whatever hint might have clung to the soggy trail. The rest of the pack gathered quickly, the dogs he loved leaping excitedly over rotting wood and skidding through the muddied ditch that had formed years before when a burrow had collapsed. Another long ago hunt with only the black sky to bear witness to its failure.

“Aw, Nat.” Me’nor knelt, already too covered with smears and spatters of mud to heed the mess as he scrubbed the pup between the ears. “You’ve got to learn some patience, love.”

Nat snorted and shook himself, spraying his litter mate, Alo. She snapped at his flank in retaliation, sending them both sliding into the ditch, playfully fighting. Their dam, Kos, stood over them serenely, watching, but blatantly not interfering.

Ignoring the pups, Me’nor sniffed the heavy air. Something lingered. Not the moss hare the pups had been intent on eating. Something else. Something more dangerous. Win could smell it too. She was at his side immediately, her mind tugging on his, her nose to the ground, peeling away the overwhelming scent of moisture clinging to every branch, leaf and rock surrounding them.

“That’s different,” he muttered, more to himself than to Win. She responded anyway, with a light warning that spread though the collective consciousness of his pack. “And this close to the treaty line…” Continue reading →

Panty Nightmares

01 Sunday Mar 2015

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Fantasy, M/F, Short Story

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Panty Nightmares

Short Story (Approx 2200)

Most of the time, I find it child’s play to divide my dreams from my nightmares. Like good and evil. Life and death. The lines tend to be bold and thick, marked with red tape and bureaucracy that always overstays its welcome. Or maybe I’m simply holding onto a type of faith my parents instilled back when I was three and the world seemed a whole lot simpler. Though, I think the immediate clue I stumbled upon was one I came to understand in my teen years, long after my parents had given up on trying to argue with me about life.

Just like then, I thought I knew everything.

Headless mannequins with crack-riding, pink-laced panties tend to fall in my I-know-what-kind-of-dream-this-is territory. Like I said, as easy as black and white. Right? Continue reading →

A Cold Bargain

01 Sunday Feb 2015

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Fantasy, M/F, Short Story

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A Cold Bargain

Short Story (Approx 1500)

On the pamphlet it said they were Battery Everlasting. An interesting gimmick. Unrealistic, she was sure, but it was a nice touch. Especially since it was written in big broad letters, with phallic shapes to the b and g. It cost less than five though, slashed from a seventy-five percent sale, and she loved a bargain.

The only two left were hot pink and frost blue so she bought the blue. Once she got home and opened the packaging, the phallic b ripping in half because the tape wouldn’t come off, she discovered that blue really meant purple. Of course. She’d probably just been scammed. No return policy either given the intimate nature of the product.

Oh well.

She washed it thoroughly and lay down to test it out. Sans batteries. She didn’t actually believe it would turn on, but—surprise!—it hummed to life in her hand, dancing like it wanted to mate. Interesting. She could save a fortune on double As if it worked. Continue reading →

New Year, Old Loves

04 Sunday Jan 2015

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Fantasy, M/F, Short Story

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New Year, Old Loves

Short Story (Approx. 3200)

The apartment building had a ragged, yellowing appearance, as if it’d seen too many smokers sitting in its covered stoop and weathered far too many evictions. Not the place Pete had envisioned he would find Gwennie, but then his imagination had run wild in the past couple of years. Pictures of perfection. Of white picket fences, hanging plants and baby blue curtains. And, of course, a plethora of men who she might have chosen after him.

He glanced at the address on the slip of paper her brother had given him. Apartment 3B. So, not the door to the left or the door to the right, but the one smack-dab in the middle. The one with the two metal chairs and circular table sitting out front. The one with the wreath visible behind the clearish screen door. The one with the welcome mat with the bright spring colors and cheerful yellow birds on it. Continue reading →

If These Walls Could Talk

14 Sunday Sep 2014

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Fantasy, M/F, Short Story

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If These Walls Could Talk

Short Story (Approx. 3100)

The last owner of the workshop had been some sort of kinky necromancer assassin. Either that or he—or she, Lev didn’t actually know who had owned the place before him—had been a blood caster. Hell, he could even have been a death-spell collector. Lev didn’t know and the lips couldn’t tell him anything straight since their brains had been scrambled when they’d been sliced off their bodies and spelled to the walls of the workshop.

The first time he’d walked into the place, he’d immediately turned around and walked right back out. Blinked in the sunlight as he tried to ignore the real-estate agent blabbering on about how the workshop was one-of-a-kind and perfect for a man like him. Lev had asked the idiot man point-blank whether his company had even tried to remove the lips. The agent had merely grinned and told him that their resources were limited and he was sure that a man of Lev’s ability could easily remove the lips if he wished.

Continue reading →

Wounds of the Warrior (Part 3 of 3)

31 Sunday Aug 2014

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Fantasy, M/F, Serial

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Erotica, Fiction, Love, Romance, Writing

Wounds of the Warrior

Serial: Part 3 of 3 (Approx. 5000 of 15400)

Part 1 / Part 2

The plateau came to an edge, cutting down so steeply only a mountain goat could hope to navigate it. Cohriahra scowled at the offending piece of terrain, leaning out to look down at the tips of the trees stretching up towards her, searching for some inkling that they’d been going the right direction. A light touch against her lower back made her heart skip a beat.

“Planning on falling?”

“Only if you push me,” she said.

Mahden’s hand pressed firmer against her flesh, warm despite the rain, and his other came snaking across her middle, pulling her up and tugging her away from the edge. She contemplated shoving him away, her annoyance high at his protective nature that begged the question of how incapable he must think she was. In the end, she relaxed, letting him guide her into stepping away, her body flush with the pleasure of having someone touch her as if they cared.

Continue reading →

Wounds of the Warrior (Part 2 of 3)

24 Sunday Aug 2014

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Fantasy, M/F, Serial

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Wounds of the Warrior

Serial: Part 2 of 3 (Approx. 5200 of 15400)

Part 1

The first question came as he braced to set her bone. “What’s your name?”

“Cohriahra,” she gritted out from around the edge of the fur he’d let her shove in her mouth.

“How many cub mates do you have?”

She blinked at the question, but relaxed her jaw enough to respond around her mouthful. “You mean littermates or siblings?”

“Either. Both.” He was moving his hands along her arm, his touch agony wherever he pushed.

Continue reading →

Wounds of the Warrior (Part 1 of 3)

17 Sunday Aug 2014

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Fantasy, M/F, Serial

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Wounds of the Warrior

Serial: Part 1 of 3 (Approx. 5200 of 15400)

She was dying a shameful death. Life seeping out from the bandage at her side. No bleeding to death from her injuries, no, nothing close to a prideful death. Infection had set in. She could feel it eating at her strength, sapping her energy. Her steps had turned slothful. Lethargy had come to make friends with her before she gave in to her shameful death.

Cohriahra leaned against the wide bark of a pine and ground her teeth on the leather strap she’d shoved into her mouth at the start of the gauntlet. It had kept her from screaming then and it kept her from screaming now.

Every time she glanced down, she winced at her bare, naked skin. Her clan markings were gone. Nothing but real blood leaking down her side, drying in strange patterns.

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For Want of a Man

03 Sunday Aug 2014

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Fantasy, M/F, Short Story

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Erotica, Fiction, Love, Romance, Writing

For Want of a Man

Short Story (Approx. 4200)

Muscle didn’t even begin to describe him. He strode through the lot with confidence, maybe even a smidge of cockiness, but just a smidge. Hair shorn close to his scalp, pale enough, with a hint of orange glinting in the sunlight. Worn jeans, with the beginnings of holes in one of the knees and around his left pocket as if he kept his keys there. Boot cut, with the boots underneath to give them a rhyme and reason. His shirt was one of those five-for-ten white undershirts at the local Walmart. Probably fresh from the package.

She wanted to rev, just a little, to get his attention, but with the smarmy salesmen around and the likelihood that this particular man preferred laidback confidence and an easy ride over flashy and loud, she held down the desire.

Instead, she winked at him.

Continue reading →