Speculative Fiction

A Little Surprise From Resilience



I haven’t posted a blog in a while, so I figured it was time and you guys were due a treat. How about a sneak peek at a scene from Resilience, book 3 of TRWC, coming in June?

Thought you might like that.

Be warned, it’s not for the faint of heart. But really, when is any of my writing? 😉

It’s a scene with the demon Tiriana, whom you met at the end of Reconciliation, and Lucifer’s first appearance in the series.

This is uncut and unedited.


beautiful young vampire woman


Tiriana slithered between the tables, breathing in the smoky air, letting the pulse of the music, the movement of gyrating bodies, and the living darkness soak into her system.

Chambré du Diablé. This was her domain. Here, she was queen.
She surveyed the dancers on their perches, half dressed and writhing. Some demon. Some human. All under her command.
The bartenders gave her small waves and chin lifts as they went about their duties behind the immaculate bar. The forty foot long installation was actually an aquatic tank, full of eels and predatory fish. Red lights cast a haunting glow throughout the water, making it look as though the creatures were swimming from the bowels of Hell.
She advance toward the VIP area, sashaying through the booths, giving passing greetings to the dignitaries there. Each customer gave her a warm welcome. Most a little too eager to get close to her, to win her favor. As were her employees.
Ah, it was good to be queen.
She wound her way up the curved staircase to her office.
She paused before opening the door. The sensation of spiders crawling over her skin was her first indication of his presence.
She both loved and hated the experience.
His power reached out and grabbed her by the throat, squeezing with the most delightful pain. A heated, liquid lust roared through her veins. Oh, he was in quite the mood. That could either bode very well for her, or mean her bloody end.
Letting her own power center her, she pulled back her shoulders, lifted her chin, and opened the door.
The object of her centuries-long obsession sprawled in the plush leather chair behind her desk, sucking all of the oxygen and light from the room. She had to admit, she loved this latest mortal form he’d chosen.
Tall, extremely well-built, with just a hint of animal contained in immaculately tailored clothes. And blonde. As always. His golden locks had been the envy of many for ages. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. Absolute perfection. So legendary, the Father had had his epic beauty written about in His precious Book.
Lucifer. The morning star. The apple of the Father’s eye. Retro 1900 modern fashion man. Wearing blue jeans shirt with gilet and trousers. Black hat. Studio shot against black.
But as with all of the fallen, it was only an illusion. What lay beneath the mortal meat sacks they’d chosen was now ruined. Regardless, they could still enjoy what they had while they had it.
“Tiriana.” His smooth, low voice reached out with a velvet touch. Velvet with spikes.
He rose from the chair in one fluid, controlled movement. As he crossed the room to meet her in front of the wall of glass, he slid the fedora from his head and tossed it. It landed perfectly on the hat rack in the corner.
His eyes sparked as he took her measure. “You are looking quite exquisite this evening.” He ran his fingers down her arm, catching her hand in his. With a small flourish, he pressed his lips to her skin. “You never disappoint.” The expectation in his eyes impaled her.
He was telling her in no uncertain terms what he demanded. Perfection. If she failed, there would be literal Hell to pay. For her, it would be worse than the others.
The volatile waves rolling from him told her his mood could go either way, depending on her response. Well then, she’d have to see to it that his temperament swayed in her favor.
“You flatter me, sire.” Tiriana didn’t bat her eyelashes, didn’t blush. No, she leaned in to kiss his cheek, then met his gaze with equal intensity. “I will not fail you.”
“Oh, of that I have no doubt.” One hand gripped her hip with barely contained power. The other traced the lace that tied her bustier. “I do love this contraption.” He ran his finger to the top, tugged hard, and then led her across the room. “First, business. Tell me, what news of your current assignment? Have you found a weakness in the human warriors?” He settled into a chair, pulling her onto his lap.
“Of course. It’s my specialty. Well, one of them.” She ran her fingernail along his jaw, tilting her head to lick a path behind it. Getting him in a better mood wasn’t a hardship. “They are ripe for what I have in mind. How Markus and Kade managed to screw it up, I’ll never understand. I, on the other hand, will prevail.” She nipped at his neck.
“Hm. You’d better.” He traced a hand up her spine. Abruptly, he fisted her hair and pulled, past the point of pain, forcing her to look him in the eye. The move was a sharp contrast to his previous gentleness. “You also had better not be plotting to overthrow me, as they did.” He tightened his hold, drawing a growl from her, knowing she loved it. “You’ve been my closest companion since the fall, even before. My greatest supporter.” He abruptly leaned forward and bit her throat, sinking deep, until she felt sticky warmth run down her chest. He raised his head, the black life source of her veins decorating his chin. “Do not fail me now.”
Depositphotos_19957321_originalHis eyes flashed full demon. The first demon. Full of fire so deep, so vicious, it couldn’t fully be contained in his mortal form. The center, black depths deeper than the pit. Her blood boiled as his skin steamed. Sweat dotted her brow and ran between her shoulder blades. The flame licked through her body, igniting a hunger beyond lust.
There he was. Her Lucifer. The one she loved and hated with equal ferocity.
Tiriana’s eyes narrowed in brutal desire. “Yes, my lord.”
He crushed her to him, taking her mouth in a savage, bruising kiss. Before she’d registered the movement, he’d slammed her against the glass wall. The force shook the room and sent pain shooting down her spine. She smiled.
“Soon, you’ll be too busy screaming to smile.” His voice was like broken glass, guttural and raw.

“I’m counting on it.”


As a bonus, here’s a song from the playlist. Enjoy!

By Amy Brock McNew

Author. Blogger. Fighter.

Former nurse and martial artist.

Amy doesn’t just write speculative fiction, she lives and breathes it. She enthusiastically explores the strange, the supernatural, and the wonderfully weird. She pours her guts onto the pages she writes, honestly and brutally revealing herself in the process. Nothing is off limits. Her favorite question is “what if?” and she believes fiction can be truer than our sheltered and controlled realities.

This wife and mom is a lover of music, chocolate, the beach, and cherry vanilla Coke. Her home is a zoo, filled with teenagers–both hers and those she seems to collect–two dogs, a cat, and various fish and amphibians. Strangely enough, her kids are the ones who have to tell her to turn the music down.

It is her firm belief that everyone should have a theme song.

Originally from Arkansas, Amy currently resides in Indiana. She and her Taekwondo-instructor husband are constantly acting like overgrown kids–and loving every minute of it. She longs for the day when her husband retires, so she can write her adventures of love and war on a back porch overlooking the ocean.

In flip flops.

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