The Worlds of Terri Pray

The highs and lows of chasing a writing dream. From fantasy to erotica and beyond as seen through the eyes of Terri Pray.

Name:
Location: Minnesota, United States

I'm a wife, mother, author, chat site owner and rpger. That's only scratching the surface though, I doubt any person can be described in a few short sentances. I write for Final Sword Productions, Loose-ID, Magic Carpet Books, Chippewa Publishing and Under the Moon, an imprint of Final Sword.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Last Name - WIP

Part of the very rough opening to my current WIP, same setting as the soon to be released Starfire

Pain exploded across her left cheek, the force of the blow enough to send Corina stumbling back against the bar. Breath left her body in a gasp even as she pushed away from the hard edge behind her back and stepped left, ducking at the same time. The second punch flashed past her left shoulder, her attacker little more than a blur of beige tunic and large fists to Corina's dazed vision.

Don't think, just react.

Easier said than done.

Glass shattered somewhere in front of her. A deep grunt followed by a high pitched howl. Scrambling, chairs scraping, footsteps, the sounds merged one barely distinguishable from the other. All except one, a voice that pierced the cacophony.

"Come back here, bitch!"

Fuck, did he really think she'd be dumb enough to obey him? Corina shook her head, trying to clear her vision. Her right hand hovered over the butt of her gun, ready to palm it. She spat, clearing her mouth of blood and – shit – was that a tooth? She peered down at the white in the midst of the red. Yep. Bastard had cost her a tooth.

She dropped and rolled, coming up to her feet to the right and several feet away from the brute as she turned to face him again. Her weight shifted onto the balls of her feet, her knees flexed, gaze fixed on her target.

"Lt. Lysk, need any- - -"



"No! Stay where you are." Corina didn't look back toward the source of the voice. Fuck, her jaw hurt. First stop after dealing with idiot boy here would be medical. Good job such visits were covered by work, or they'd make a hell of a dent in her credit. "Hert, make me draw my gun and you'll end the day in the morgue instead of the tank."

"Funny little peacekeeper bitch, aren't you! Think a scrawny thing like you can take me down?" Hert Tumle looked down at her, his three golden eyes fixed on her.

Sure, fine, at five foot nothing she had a small disadvantage when faced with an eight foot walking wall. Yeah, she knew what he was thinking. They all made the same mistake when it came to a fight. Judged her by her size, or worse, size and gender, their loss, her gain. Tomolins, arrogant species, no use for females outside of the breeding pits. One weakness in a fist fight. One spot on the right hand side, between the upper and lower rib cages.

Yeah, all she had to do was find a way to that spot.

"Come here little female and maybe I'll show you a good use for one like you." His face split into a grin, a rumbling laugh from a dozen of the males in the bar, echoed through the room. "Maybe I give you to them when you've learned your place, little female? Think you like that idea. Think that is why you come after me. Yes?"

Mensains, yeah, the laugh had to be from their side of the bar. Typical. Tomolins and Mensains in the same damn bar. Just about made her fucking day.

"Finished with the bad boy speeches? Or did you plan on boring me to death?"

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