Morgana Dodds is a Millennium Citizen; one of a million children who appeared around the world on New Year’s Eve 1999, each with their own unique abilities.
Morgana is ‘the Medium’, a washed up graduate from the Carnegie Investiture’s Crime Fighting Initiative. Her ability to speak to ghosts doesn’t make her much of a superhero. Until she finds herself helping a ‘less dead’ ghost of a young, trafficked woman, and her path crosses with DS ‘West’ MacDonald.
Morgana’s first kiss with West below the cut ;)
“Thanks,” I unclipped my seatbelt, and opened the car door. We’d sat in silence as West drove me the five minutes from the station to my home. I pulled out my keys, rescued from evidence bags, so that I could at least let myself in.
West hopped out of the car and waited behind me, watching me open the back door.
“It’s okay,” I managed to keep the tremble out of my voice.
“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head. “No way, Jose! After what happened to you today, I’m making sure that you get home safely.”
“I’m at the door to my home. Job done, Detective Constable!”
“I haven't seen you cross the threshold. I’d feel terrible if I drove off, the last person to see you alive, and then learned that something terrible had befallen you mere seconds after I left,” a smile played on his lips, and I found myself blushing.
I opened the door, and crossed into the small kitchen, West following me inside.
“You live here?”
“In the flat upstairs,” I switched on the light. “This is the shop’s kitchen, which is why it’s sparse.”
Not that my actual kitchen, or indeed, my flat, was much better. The best items that I owned sat out the front of the shop, or were for sale.
“It’s…quaint,” West struggled to find a complimentary description of my house. I bit down on my lip, seeing my living arrangements through the eyes of a successful person. I’d pity me as well, if I saw someone else living the way I did.
“Now you know that I’m safely home,” I vaguely gestured around the small kitchen. “Home, sweet home.”
“Gold star for me,” he reached out and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’m glad you’re safe. I don’t think I could bear knowing that something terrible happened to you.”
His fingers, warm and soft, traced the curve of my ear, and ran down my neck.
Electricity flared over my skin, my heart racing, my mouth dry. His aftershave, spicy and sweet, filled my head.
“I don’t think I could live with myself, if something happened to you,” his breath brushed against my face, and I couldn’t look up. I couldn’t bear to look up, into his eyes, and see the pity in them. Instead, I focused on his lips, and stubble lined jaw, as they drew nearer to me.
His kiss took me by surprise. His hand slid from my shoulder, around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I pressed myself against his body, luxuriating in his warmth and firmness.
I felt him pull away, and reluctantly, I let him go.
“Sorry,” his voice was thick. “I shouldn't have done that. That’s unprofessional. It’s just…I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”
“It’s alright,” I licked my lips, tasting the remnants of his kiss. “I don’t mind. I’d hoped that you’d do something like that.”
I didn’t admit to him that I’d fantasised about this moment for days now, since I first met him.
“Would you like to see the rest of the house?” I felt confident, bolder than I had in months. “Or do you need to get back?”
“A tour would be great,” West loosened his tie. “We’re waiting for the bidding to end. Nothing we can do until Big Dan and the Cyber-Security team manage to crack the server and get the IP addresses.”
He took my hand in his, and I led him up the stairs. As we reached the top, he pulled me back, spinning me around, and wrapping his arms against me, kissing me.
My blood simultaneously rushed to my head, and between my legs, where a heat was growing.
His hands all over me, I guided West to my bedroom, where we fell onto the duvet. He fumbled under the hoodie, and I unfastened his belt.
His fingers ran over my scar, and I froze, but he continued, undeterred. I sank into his embrace, and let him pull the joggers off me.
“Do you have-?”
I opened the drawer of my bedside cabinet, pulling out protection.
West grinned, and nuzzled into my neck. I ran my hands down his shirt, unfastening his buttons, revealing dark chest hair.
I buried my fingers into his chest, as he shrugged off the rest of his clothes. He tried to lift my t-shirt off, but I stopped him.
It was hard enough for me to know that he had touched my scar, I didn’t want him to see it.
“Please…don’t,” I tugged the top down, looking away in shame.
“Whatever you want,” West pushed me back down onto the bed, and I surrendered to him wholly.
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@words-after-midnight left an open invite to this tag game, and I was feeling whimsical.
Keeping the open invite open to anyone who stumbles across this- take this as your sign from the universe to join in (if you want to! No obligation!)
Rules: Put your library on shuffle and list the first 10 songs that come up. Then, tag ten people.
Sorry, but you’ve all got to suffer through my awful taste in writing music that I’ve compiled over the last 18 months of writing Memento Mori. My playlist is basically a collection of random songs that I strumble across on the radio and/or the internet and remind me of a character/scene from the books. And that’s my excuse for why the list has no rhyme, reason or theme!!
1. Billy Joel- We Didn’t Start the Fire
I was tagged by @sarahlizziewrites
I’ve been working on part IV of Memento Mori. I hit a bit of a wall during NaNoWriMo with this one, so I’ve been going back through it, ruthlessly killing darlings, filling plot holes and basically, doing a major re-write.
Keeping the tags open to any one who sees this- please accept this open invitation to tag me, so that I can see your stuff! I love seeing what you awesome Writblrs do! :D
So enjoy this wee snippet from a re-written scene.
My breath billowed out before me under the Hunter’s Moon. This deep in the desert, the light pollution hardly touched the night’s sky, so the white band of stars that made up the Milky Way spread across darkness.
Halo Rock, the formation that the town was named after, was cold to the touch. I was bundled in my warmest clothes, and from my vantage point at the top of the formation’s arch, I could make out most of the desert in the moonlight.
The light of the town was visible on the horizon to my left.
“Still no sign of the beast,” August appeared at my side, whispering, even though no-one else would be able to hear him. “Are you sure it will come?”
“He’s out there,” I nodded, my eyes still scanning the horizon. “He’ll come.”
