Black Moon Draw(2)
Now I’m just gonna spend what’s left from the wedding fund on books to help me escape my miserable life.
Pushing away from the desk, I go to the bathroom and stare at my bleary appearance. My hair is in a lumpy ponytail, my eyes rimmed with red, and nose red as well. I’ve spent the day eating ice cream and am almost surprised it doesn’t already show on my otherwise trim body. A true bookworm introvert who hates to leave the house, I’ve done a thirty-minute yoga video religiously every day in my living room for the past three years since leaving my mom’s house. With striking blue-gray eyes and dark hair, I’m pretty but also plain.
According to Jason. What a bastard. I can count the number of compliments he’s given me since we met on one hand. Our relationship is always like a rollercoaster: brief periods of euphoria followed by months of despair.
I wash my face before returning to my desk.
“Take me away, mysterious LF,” I tell the laptop.
I go down the checklist I made of essential characters that appear in every one of LF’s books. Part of the fun is figuring out who is whom before the author reveals it.
“I’ve got the Fool, the Betrayer, the Devoted-but-Doomed guy, the Red Herring, the Loyal Second-in-Command, Beautiful Maiden, Love Interest, Villain, a bunch of minions . . .” I pause. My thoughts go to the Shadow Knight. “The Hero. Hmm. Can the biggest, most violent, mysterious, and relentless badass - with no possibility of redemption - be a hero?”
I lean back and sigh.
“No, he can’t,” I answer my own question. “And a . . . creature like him can never have a love interest. No one in their right mind would want to be with him.” Normally I’m able to spot the end game of a novel a couple of chapters in, but this is something different entirely. “How can a book have no hero or love story? What the hell is LF doing?”
The Shadow Knight is unlike any of the characters LF has ever written about. He doesn’t fit any of the profiles of the essential characters LF includes in her books and thinking about him makes me feel . . . edgy. Scared or uneasy because he seems so real. When I read his passages, I can almost hear his deep, gravelly voice and smell the scent of horse leathers.
Which is silly. It’s the sign of a great author, not me going crazy. Besides, what reader fears fictional characters?
“So we have a romance with no hero and no love story.” I rest my head on my desk, exhausted. “I didn’t think that was possible. At least he’s sexy.”
Unable to see how his mind works like I can the other characters, I’ve been locked in a silent battle with him since starting the first chapter. I want to hate him for being what he is, but find myself compelled to reread every one of his passages instead.
Fed up, I close the laptop. The last thing I want today is a story I have to dissect. I need a distraction, not another stupid man intent on infuriating me.
“You’re giving me a headache. You and every other man on this planet,” I mutter to the imaginary knight. “What the hell are you waiting for? Why don’t you just tell me your story the way every other character does? And why is it taking LF so long to upload a new chapter?”
A fictional man, of course, can’t answer.
“At least you’re mortally wounded at the battle of Brown Sun Lake, you bastard. I’m hoping she leaves you that way. I can’t believe she misspelled coincidence twice in the first two chapters, either. Ever heard of spell-check, LF?” I ask no one in particular. “You’re stressing me out! You know what will make this easier? Wine.”
I’ve got a couple of nice bottles I had been saving for the wedding rehearsal. I’m halfway to the kitchen when I realize there’s something else I’ve been saving for that occasion.
The gorgeous, purple dress my mother bought me.
Halting, I debate whether or not drinking wine in a fancy dress at home makes me desperate or is a reasonable way to cope.
One of my three cats meows from his spot on the kitty jungle gym in one corner. My shoulders slump.
“You’re right. I really am gonna end up a crazy, single, cat lady,” I whisper, new tears forming. “Why can’t the heroes in books be real?”
My cat blinks at me, but doesn’t answer.
“I hate my life. There’s no happily-ever-after in the real world.” I’d give anything for a do-over, another chance to be someone worthy of a fictional Hero instead of a wallflower with insecurity issues.
Pretty certain I’ll die a crazy old maid, I decide to wear my prettiest dress, break out the wine and chocolate and watch Pride and Prejudice. Maybe when I wake up in the morning, there will be a new chapter waiting for me.
Chapter Two
The Shadow Knight paced across Blue Star Bridge, the wooden and stone walkway that arched across the river dividing his kingdom, Black Moon Draw, from his eastern neighbors of White Tree Sound.
He stopped in the middle, listening to the sounds of night. Somewhere, an animal splashed into the shallow waters, probably chasing its dinner, while the calls of owls and other night birds rose from the forest at his back. He didn’t register the night chill that skated across his muscular form. Built with the power of a bear and the agility of a panther, he was poised and ready to fight. The sword at his back was taller than a full-grown woman and the axe, daggers, whip, and other weapons at his belt were polished and waiting for their next kill.