For my part in the hop today, I'm offering up a snippet of my m/m werewolf/werecat romance, "Omarati." I'm also giving away a free pdf copy to one lucky winner! To enter to win, just leave a comment with your e-mail. Easy Peasy!
****PLEASE BE AWARE: I write GLBTQ romance. GLBTQ stands for gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer. This means my works feature same sex relationships AND same sex sexual acts. If winning that kind of a book isn't your cup of tea, kindly pass on to the next blog in the hop and leave the spot open for someone else. Thank you.****
Mateo skidded to a halt and pulled the arrow from his shoulder with a grimace. "Archers!" he growled. And then he was back on his feet.
The Golden Magus lurched under a volley of cannon fire. Debris bounced crazily off the deck; chunks of wood flew into the air. Across the way, the enemy pirate vessel swung back around, maneuvering for a second run. The pirates' guns boomed so loudly Mateo was certain his ears must be bleeding from it.
The main mast snapped off with a great crack and came crashing down to the deck. They were taking on water, and quickly. Nothing for it now, no way to save the ship. Mateo gazed out over the water—he could just make out the coast of Namicia in the distance. So close."Abandon ship!" Ba'Tal yelled.
Mateo struggled to keep his footing on the slippery deck as he made his way to the railing. He sent a last, long look over his shoulder at the place he had called home for so many years of his life, dropped his sword, and jumped.
Mateo swam frantically against the pull of the Golden Magus as it sank, feeling his breath running out. Fear assailed him as his throat constricted and his chest tightened. Thickness filled his panicked, gasping lungs; a great weight pressed down on him. Blackness hovered on the edges of his vision, and the world slipped away from existence.
Dimly, Mateo realized his predicament, but exhaustion and cold were quickly pushing him beyond the point of caring. And then he broke the surface. Mateo ignored the fatigue of long days and nights spent working on board ship, ignored his injuries. Ignored it all, and swam for his life.
He could see no other survivors in the water around him, which brought him to the conclusion they had managed to escape, or they were all dead—as he soon would be, if he didn't find land. Or a rescue ship. The shadow of a large ship loomed above him, and Mateo gave a silent thanks to the gods. His celebration was short lived though. Pirate ship. Wrong ship.