The bad boys or the sensitive ones?
As readers, especially women, I think we all have a spot in our hearts and fantasies for either the bad boy or the sensitive one. Me, personally, I’m all about the vampire. Why? I think the risk and danger that goes with the “Will they or won’t they?” is sexy and interesting. In my latest paranormal romance release Soul, my hero is definitely a bad boy. Drebin is a seven-hundred-year-old demon sent from Hell. In the opening scene, which you can read below, Drebin is sent to entice his victim to kill herself so he can take her soul to Satan. His edginess and total disregard for human life I found beyond appealing as I wrote him. Dangerous. A man that will tell you how it is even if you don’t want to hear it. Call me crazy, but how sexy can it get?
On the other hand we have the sensitive guy. He doesn’t have to be the nerd in class or the crying type. How about a man that cups your face as he leans in to kiss you? Or lays you down on a warm blanket and makes love to you under the stars? Massages with lotions and oils? Heck yes! We all swoon for him. He can still have the perfect six pack but when he falls in love with your family, children, even your dog, how can you deny this guy?
The perfect man, I feel, is a mixture of the two. The bad boy that will take down any person wishing you harm, but will still sweep you off of your feet and gently hold you throughout the night. Swooning again. Ladies, we need to put our feet down and demand more of the cross-type guy. More chiseled abs mixed with guns and attitude, along with gentleness and kissing. I don’t want to spoil the book, but Drebin goes from one to the other, but never loses his edge. Now if I could only get my husband to be embrace his bad self…
Chapter One: Drebin’s Mission
A soul—something humans held onto it like it had worth. It was my job to take that wealth, and I did so with a smile.
Blood dripped from her wrist in little plunks of crimson drops. Her life was fading away. I pulled a knife from my pocket and gently scored the blade across my forearm. I couldn’t believe I’d taken over four hundred lives. Tonight was just the end of another day at work.
I looked down at the red puddle growing beneath her. Humans always left behind a mess. Just the sight of her disgusting fluids oozing made the fibers of my being thankful I never had a soul.
“Maybe I should go to the hospital,” the girl whispered.
Gently stroking her cheek, I shook my head.
“I…I can’t kill myself.”
I sighed. “Bethany, we’ve talked about this. Look at yourself; I’ve never seen a girl as fat as you. Cottage cheese has less curd.”
“I could lose weight.”
“My dear, you’ve been saying that for months and yet you grow larger every day. And don’t get me started on the waste of oxygen you are at work; the middle cubicle everyone avoids. Last week, while you were sick, they had a party. The alcohol flowed, and the laughter spread throughout the building. Life was better without you.”
Her blood-soaked palms covered her face, muffling the sobs. I picked up her sweater and tossed it at her. Bethany looked at me, confused.
“Wipe your nose. You look disgusting with snot dripping all over.” I peered down at the blood that gushed from her wrist; it was almost time.
“Drebin? Are you sure this is what’s best?” She was searching for an escape. There was no escaping Hell.
A single tear rolled down her cheek. Her finger pressed against the droplet. As she glanced at the tear, her body started to sway. She was dying.
“Goodnight, my dear Bethany.”
“Thank you, Drebin.”
“Shh. Soon you will be where you belong.”
I smiled, “No, not in heaven. Hell.”
Her eyes widened moments before the light dimmed in them.
Four-twenty-one’s soul was mine. Lucifer, my Savior, would be pleased at my progress. Snapping my fingers, my notebook landed in my hands. I wiped the blood from the floor and scratched off Bethany’s name.
Next on the list was four-twenty-two: Alexia Downer. Not even a prayer could save her.
Find Erika at her website for more on her latest books.