Pinterest Writing Prompt #1: Feeling

     To say that he felt like a live wire would have been completely accurate. He'd tried to convince himself that no, she didn't have him on edge and no, he wasn't about to explode with pent up anger, or lust, or whatever the hell he was suffering from. 
     
     He was lying to himself, was completely aware of that fact, even as he tried to pretend that all was well. He took a rather long swig of his ale and watched the woman who sat at the other end of the bar. She looked annoyed, both by his presence and by the bartender's attempts at hitting on her. 

     Her brows were drawn together, her jaw set in a firm line that made his mouth practically water to get a taste of her olive skin. Loose tendrils of hair curled around the elegant curve of her neck and dipped into the v between her breasts. 

     She looked up suddenly, whiskey brown eyes catching on him and she narrowed her gaze. There was a flash of heat, a red colored flush that crept up her neck before she managed to stamp down her emotions. 

     He raised his pint, tilting it in her direction, acknowledging her. She huffed, rolling her eyes. 

     What had brought her here? Why was she in this sleepy little town? 

     He glanced around the bar. She must have been here for a job; someone in the bar wasn't going to have a very good night. 

     She was still staring at him when he looked back at her. She swept locks of auburn hair back, away from her face, and threw a quick glance at the clock on the wall. Time. 

     She stood, still annoyed by her lack of drink regardless of having the bartender's near undivided attention. He watched her as she stalked across the room, her stride slowly morphing from intense annoyance to that of a seductive harlot. 

     She swayed her hips, let down her hair and unbuttoned her shirt just a little more, revealing the tops of her breasts and more skin than he liked. Not that he didn't enjoy it himself, but the other men's gazes on her sent a rush of possession through him.

     Damn. He needed to get a hold of himself or he was going to lose it. 

     He opened his eyes, not really recalling when he'd closed them in the first place, and discovered her and the stranger gone. Panic ate at him briefly before he tamped it down. She could handle herself, that much he knew. She'd fought against him before and nearly won.

     Hands clenched into fists, he chugged the rest of his ale down. Without her drawing his concentrated attention, he really had no reason to hang around the crappy bar. The beer wasn't that good and the women didn't interest him. 

     He'd stood to leave, resolved to get over his fascination, when a door upstairs slammed and her boots caught his eye. She sauntered down the stairs, buttoning up the previously revealing blouse and brushing her hair over her shoulders. 

     She paused at the bottom of the stairs when she saw him, faltered and almost missed the last step, before catching herself. He didn't miss the blush on her high cheeks. He glared, anger darkening his gaze, as she moved through the bar and his resolve to forget her was forgotten as he trailed after her. 

     He already had a room rented and he didn't have to leave until late morning. That was more than enough time to scratch his itch for the infuriating woman. Feral and feeling more out of control than he ever had, he found her waiting outside, her back turned to him and her eyes tilted towards the starry night sky.   

     She glanced over her shoulder, those dark eyes haunting him and drawing him forwards. Towards the danger that she posed and the pleasure that she promised. Damn...

     He didn't like the way she made him feel. Tonight he was going to change that. One way of another. 


http://www.pinterest.com/pin/497436721316946526/

Pinterest Dialogue Writing Prompt #2: Threats

Her back hit the wall as she backed away from the man approaching. He glared, eyes cold and full of misguided hatred. 

He laughed, the sound full of anger. "You really shouldn't be so trusting," he sneered in her face. "The world is a dangerous place." 

She nodded. "I know." Her hands nimbly reached behind her back and pulled the blunderbuss free of its holster. "That's why I have this." 

"What?" he asked, more surprised by the fact that she'd pulled the weapon on him rather than the fact that she had it in the first place. "No... You-you trusted me. You let me into your home!" 

"No," she said. She cocked the weapon. 

"You lying bitch," he screamed. She looked around quickly, wondering if anyone was around to hear the conflict. No one was, or they simply weren't interested. "I had you! I know I had you!"

"No," she replied again. She shook her head." I don't trust anyone. Not in this world: not anymore."  

He screamed, the sound full of pain, and she almost felt sorry for him. His rage was bordering on hysteria. She could see the change in his eyes, in the posture of his body and the shaking barrel of the gun. If she wasn't careful, she'd get herself shot and at this range, he wouldn't miss. 

"I'm sorry," she told him, the truth of it shining in her pale eyes. She raised the weapon, aiming it towards his chest. "I hoped it wouldn't come to this. Really, I did. But you're too far gone. Your anger has consumed you and you can't see reason." 

"Lying, lying..." he was muttering to himself, his free hand gripping his head. 

"I'm not going to be held responsible when you finally lose it," she muttered and the cold edge found its way back into her voice. "You can't hurt anyone else." 

The shot rang out and echoed around her. His eyes slipped closed as he sank to the ground on his knees. His body fell over and she walked towards it, checking to make sure his eyes were closed. 

She sighed. There were some nights where her job just got messy. 


Prompt: http://www.pinterest.com/pin/497436721316946295/

Pinterest Dialogue Writing Prompt #1: Jerk

     Two knives remained on the table, another four embedded in the board at the other end of the room; target practice. 
     She was seething. 
     The handsome man that sat at the table near her hit smiled as another blade wedged deeply into the cork board, hitting it hard enough to make it rattle against the wall. 
     "I think you're overreacting," he muttered, sipping his beer. It was the wrong thing to say, evidently, because she turned on him. There was still a knife in her shaking hands as she marched closer, invading his personal space to glare directly into his eyes. 
     "Overreacting?"she spat the word. Absolutely livid. "You faked your own death...there was a funeral!" He went to speak, one hand curling around her hip but she held up a hand to stop him. "That's not the problem."
     "I know," he sighed, fighting a smirk. He seemed to love her even more when she was mad. That look she got in her eyes; the passion and fire. It made him burn for her. 
     "No, you don't." She yanked herself away, knocking into the table in the process. She winced, sure that her skin would bruise, but her anger dulled the ache enough for her to continue her rant. "I thought you were dead! Dead, as in permanently gone. No more life." 
     "I'm aware of the definition of dead," he raised a brow, smirking. 
     "You-you..." she threw her hands in the air. "I'm leaving." 
     That made him frown. He stood stiffly and followed her out the door into the chilled night air. She shivered and kept walking. 
     "Where are you going?" he asked a bit melodramatically. She was overreacting. 
     "Anywhere," she snapped. But then she spun on her heel and jabbed a finger into his chest. It didn't move him, but he admired her effort. "You know what, screw you. I spent months, MONTHS, wondering about your death. I couldn't understand how you -of all people- ended up dead." 
     "Beauti-" 
     "I should've known it was a trick!" 
     He was smirking again, staring at her with a certain aspect of amazement to his gaze. 
     "What?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips. She was glaring again. 
     "You missed me," he told her. Her expression shattered. "Yeah, that's right. I saw you go to visit my grave everyday, admit it." He leaned in closer, towering over her in height and a certain sense of superiority. 
     She stared up at him, trying to hide the emotions raging through her. He tilted his head up towards the sky and sighed. Strong arms wrapped around her lower back and he pulled her to his chest. Her hands clutched the material of his shirt and she closed her eyes, allowing a moment of weakness. 
     She sighed into his embrace. "You're a jerk..."
     "I know," he said and that was as close to an apology as she was going to get. 

Prompt: http://www.pinterest.com/pin/497436721316946306/

WriteWorld Prompt #5: Names

     Riley sat at the table, booted feet propped up on a chair with her arms crossed over her chest. Music drifted through the room and she'd closed her eyes in relaxation. She hadn't had a good day to relax in too long and she wasn't quite sure how to enjoy it anymore. 
     The door slammed from the other room and her feet hit the floor before she'd opened her eyes. Sliding the knife from its sheath on her thigh, she rolled her shoulder as someone approached.
     Two figures entered the room and she barely held the knife back from flying through the air. A set of blue and a set of hazel eyes stared back at her, one amused and the other laughing. 
     "Why didn't you just use the front door," she grumbled, sliding the knife back into place. "Or called me."
     Will stepped forward, shouldering past the other man to walk past her and into the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled when he sent her a look over his shoulder. 
     "Guess what I found out today, Riley." 
     She frowned at the man before her who stared at her with mischief. "What did you f-" she paused, replaying what he'd said. "Who told you?" she growled. She crossed the space between them and grabbed the collar of his shirt. 
     "Well, Riley, it's a funny story." 
     "Stop it," she growled. "Stop saying my name. You're not even supposed to know that." She spun as Will joined them once again and glared at him. "Who told you?"
     He shrugged. "I'm not supposed to tell you," he murmured in that deep voice of his. 
     "Damn it," she growled.
     "Come on, Riley. What's in a name, that which we-"
     "Shut up," she snapped. 
     "But Riley..."
     She held up her hand, stopping the sentence. "Say it again and I'll slit your throat." She took a deep breath and grinned, knowing the expression often confused them and made them uncomfortable. "Now then, let's have a talk. Who told you my real name?" 

Prompt: http://writeworld.tumblr.com/post/96085358046/say-it-again-and-ill-slit-your-throat

WriteWorld Prompt #4: He Won't.

     He watched her closely, looking for any sign of apprehension while she stood in the doorway. She glanced around, taking in all of the unfamiliar faces before she frowned. She took one hesitant step forward, paused, and then crossed the room.
     From the tense set of her body, it was obvious that she was aware of the eyes watching her. She was the only woman here; in a room full of male bounty hunters who hadn't touched -let alone seen- a woman in too long.
     He cursed and made his way over to the wall where she now stood with her arms crossed over her chest. She didn't look up when he approached but he knew that she was aware of him.
     "Do you remember me?" he asked.
     She looked up at him from under thick lashes and smiled, one dimple indenting her cheek. She gave him a once over and he shifted his weight from left to right as he awaited her reply.
     "Yeah," she finally said in her smooth voice. He swallowed and nodded. "I remember you. Kruel, right?"
     He simply nodded. He'd worked with her once before on a hunt and hadn't really gotten over her since. "What are you doing here?"
     She gave him a look that made him step back. It was obvious she wasn't here for a hunt. "Don't think I'm here for the hunt?" She smirked and pushed away from the wall, walking with a sort of feline grace as she practically stalked him.
     He shook his head. "He's not your type."
     She raised a brow and his hands clenched into fists.
     "You wouldn't waste your time on this hunt. It's not worth it for you..." he looked down at her as she stood inches from him. She was much shorter than him, almost a foot separated them. "So why are you here?"
     She bit her lip and looked away. "I'm on a hunt," she whispered. She took a step back and straightened her shoulders. "There's a man here who has been ordered to return home. A prince."
     He stiffened. "Why are you telling me?" He took a step back and his hand went to the gun on his belt, but he wouldn't use and they both knew it. His hand fell limp as he glared at her.
     "I'd thought I'd ask him first," she shrugged and stepped closer, close enough for their chests to brush, with her hands up to show him they were empty.
     He grabbed her wrists and leaned down, his temper flaring just a little.She didn't flinch away and met his gaze steadily. "And if he says no?" Would she be able to shoot him?
     "He won't," she smiled sadly at him. "I know him well enough."
     He stared at her for a moment, surprised and all too willing. He'd only met her a handful of times, but he's do just about anything for her. How pathetic.
     He nodded. He'd turn himself in if only so she didn't get in trouble. He held his wrists out so she could shackle them, but she simply wrapped her fingers around his knuckles and brought them to her lips. 
     "You're a much more honorable man than your family claims." 
     Only for you, he thought as she led him away, her hands clasped tightly around his. He'd escape again, he'd get away from them once more. He always did.

Prompt: http://writeworld.tumblr.com/post/96663358622/and-if-he-says-no    

WriteWorld Prompt #3: Trust

She sat, leaning forward just a little, her hands bound behind her back by biting ropes. Her left eye was swollen shut, the bruise spreading across her cheek and temple. Blood trickled down her cupids bow and painted her lips red.

Clicking heels echoed through the room before a fist grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. She choked, pain pushing a scream from her lips that she valiantly fought. Her breath shuddered from her lips as she stared up into hard amber eyes. A hood concealed most of his face in shadows, making hard lines and angles of the contours of his face.

Someone was speaking, but she could figure out who. She couldn't understand the words.

Eyes up, little girl.

That voice. She knew it was him speaking, but his lips hadn't moved. He still stared at her with those weird eyes, still held her gaze. 

She slowly, and with quite a bit of effort, raised her eyes. The woman before her was tall, thin and beautiful. She wore a sneer that could freeze fire and placed her hands on her hips condescendingly. 

The thin woman started speaking in a foreign language -and it could have been English for all she knew- but the words just sounded garbled. Inhuman, almost. 

The woman stopped speaking very abruptly and asked a question that she didn't understand. When she didn't answer, didn't know how, the thin woman screeched in anger and gestured to her. The people in the room -the ones she hadn't noticed- stood upright and at attention. 

Glaring at her, the thin woman demanded something through clenched teeth. Her head tilted back, gently this time, and she was looking back at the man. He gave her that angry look that she didn't quite understand. 

I love you.

She wasn't sure which of them thought the words, but the surprised was evident on both of their faces. He sucked in a breath and looked up at the thin woman, his eyes hidden under the hood. 

I don't want to die. It was her thought -her fear. She was trembling and it took her a second to realize that. He kept his eyes forward, but the twitching muscle in his jaw said that he'd heard her panicky thought. 

She studied him as the thin woman questioned him, obviously growing anxious as she kneeled, still alive. 

He nodded and looked back down at her, cracking a grin that made her heart ache. "I've got a plan." That was in English. 

Frowning, she opened her mouth to say something, but she only managed to squeak. Her throat hurt and she was only now realizing it. 

He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss to her temple. 

You just have to trust me.

Trust? She didn't know if that was possible. Her mind was still fuzzy, but she was distinctly sure that he was the reason for this fiasco. 

She didn't have much of a choice though, because one minute she was barely conscious and the next she was being laid on the floor as she passed out. 

Prompt: http://writeworld.tumblr.com/post/95754518123/you-just-have-to-trust-me

WriteWorld Prompt #2: Scarred

Oliver glared at the fragile body in the hospital bed, his eyes burning. He'd tried his best to avoid such a situation and yet...

He shook his head. Damn him for being so bad at protecting the people he cared about. He'd given her fair warning; he'd told her that people had the habit of dying around him. He should have tried harder though. He should have pushed her away from the beginning and instead he let her inside. 

She'd found the crack in his armor and wormed her way into his heart. She'd given him light like no other and here she lay, taking that light away. 

"Come on." A hand clapped on his shoulder and dragged him out of the room. He followed, not quite in control of his body and more of a spectator than anything. "She's not dead yet." 

He lifted his gaze to his friend, glaring even as tears stung his eyes. "Do you not understand?" he growled. She had almost died and almost was more than enough for him. "This will scar her for life, you know." 

His friend shrugged. "She won't mind the scar, I'm sure." 

No, she probably wouldn't. It was only physical and it didn't do anything to detract from her beauty, but everytime he saw it...he shuddered. Maybe it wasn't her scar that would be the issue. 

He'd forever see her marred skin and remember how he'd failed. He'd be the one scarred for life; but what were a few more scars to him? 

Prompt: http://novelsandinkwells.tumblr.com/post/65826515116/this-will-scar-her-for-life-you-know