Anya Bast

I really couldn’t tell you why this excerpt popped into my head when I thought about dialogue. I probably have many better representations of dialogue I could post, but this is the one that called to me, so here you go. 🙂

From Witch Fire…

Jack walked back to sit on the desk. Thomas Monahan, head of the Coven, had tasked Jack with watching over Mira Hoskins as soon as they’d discovered she existed. If the Coven knew she existed, most likely so did Crane. Jack had been tailing her for about two weeks, sitting in his car in the freezing cold to stake out her work and her apartment. Normally he didn’t do straight body guarding jobs like this one, but this was special. Mira was special.

She moved on the bed, waking up slowly. Jack sat on the desk in the dark, flicking the Zippo on and off absentmindedly as he watched her.
Yesterday he’d felt compelled to make actual contact with her, so he’d gone into the diner and watched her work. Her eyes were hazel. Sometimes brown, sometimes green. Her smile was easy and seemed genuine. She actually appeared to like people, which was something he couldn’t say about himself.

“Mmmm, huh?” Mira murmured from the bed. She gasped as she caught sight of him in the darkened room and pushed up into a sitting position, her hand instantly going to her head at the abrupt movement.

Jack put the Zippo down. “How are you feeling?”

She took a few moments to answer. “Like I’ve been hit by a truck, abducted and am now in fear for my life. How are you?”

“You’re here for your own protection.”

“That’s probably what all serial killers say.”

He slid off the desk, walked to the side of the bed and flipped the light on. She eyed him uneasily and moved toward the center of the mattress, away from him. He watched her glance around the room, taking in the mahogany furniture, the paintings on the wall. She centered her gaze on each exit in turn–the door to the main part of his apartment, the door to the bathroom and the window.

“Don’t try the window,” he said. “We’re on the fifty-second floor. Are you hungry, thirsty?”

She licked her lips. “I want you to tell me what’s going on.”

“Your head must hurt. You want an aspirin, maybe?”

Mira hesitated. “An aspirin would be good.”

He walked into the bathroom to get the aspirin bottle and a cup of water. By the time he got back, she was gone. Unsurprising. He could hear her fumbling the locks at the front door in desperation.

Jack sighed, set the bottle and cup down and walked through the living room toward her.

She was just working the top lock and swearing a blue streak when he reached her. He pressed his body against hers and covered her hand with his own. She stilled immediately and shivered a little.

Jack tried hard not to enjoy the feeling of her pressed to him, but he couldn’t help it. The sound of her breathing, harsh in the quiet air, made his libido twitch with interest. It made him think of other situations when she might be flush up against him, her breathing ragged. A situation in which they’d be wearing far less clothing and Mira would be feeling far friendlier toward him. It was natural, he reminded himself yet again, the natural attraction of fire to air.

His pelvis cupped her gorgeous ass in this position, his chest bracing her back. He couldn’t help but wonder what she’d do if he slid his hands over her breasts, gathered the hem of her skirt and pulled it upward. How would her sex feel bared to his exploring hand? What kind of sounds would she make as he stroked her?

You stupid bastard, he scolded himself. She’d scream like a siren.

But give him some time and he could seduce her. Even if she wasn’t willing at first, he knew how to touch her to make her want him…beg for him. Even though he shouldn’t, he could tempt her into his bed.

The faint scent of her rose perfume teased his nose as he leaned down and placed his mouth close to her ear. “You’re incredibly predictable. Even if you’d gotten out the front door, you never would’ve been able to call the elevator without my security code.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean my apartment is the only one on this floor. I mean I have the elevator on security mode. You can’t access it without my code. No one comes up or goes down without it. No one even stops at this floor without my direct permission.” Beyond that, the magickal wards in place wouldn’t allow her cross the threshold once she’d opened the door.

“You’re a prisoner here. A princess in a tower,” he breathed silkily into her ear.

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