As part of my new resolve to keep my blog updated (at least mostly updated, which as we all know is slightly more regular), I have decided to do a Saturday Author Spotlight. If you’re looking for something to read, stop by on the weekend and check it out. First up, Felicite Lilly.
Felicite keeps herself on this side of the padded cell by vegging out on Sherlock Holmes (BBC with Benedict Cumberbatch), reading someone else’s work, playing with her son and exercising (which are sometimes one and the same). She finds joy in the small things in life and wants to do one thing that scares the crap out of her each year.
As all of these feelings and thoughts fled through me, my feet tried to carry me farther away from this place. I was running like a bat out of hell. Which, I think, I technically was. I didn’t look back, knowing that would only slow me down. I just hoped beyond hope the strong Demon behind me couldn’t teleport or as the Demons called it clarity bend.
It was exactly what it sounded like. A Demon that took you on a clarity bend could make you think you were trapped in a corner while standing in an open field. Those Demons could also take you from one place to another with simply a touch of their hand. I liked to call them mind-fuck Demons.
I darted down an alleyway a few buildings away and hit a wall, a wall of heavy steely muscle. A wall I had been under and on top of enough times to know by touch, by feel, by taste, by smell. I jumped back, making sure to keep my eyes on the ground. I scrambled away quickly. I could see the toes of his shiny, patent leather black shoes.
Too close, he was too close. Without touching me he had me backed into the corner of the alley, where two brick walls met. I was breathing heavily and I could feel a tightness in my chest. My heart was going to give up and break apart again.
“Look at me Delaney.” The deep command was so familiar, yet so cold. I almost didn’t recognize it. Almost. I fought the urge to look up into his eyes, but quickly lost. My eyes met his without my permission. When they did I could feel myself coming back to life and dying all over again in the space of a breath. His name slid over my tongue and between my lips like a lover’s caress, and completely out of my control.
“Azrael.” My Demon. My heart.
Rachel A. Brune 
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