Imitating Fiction

Chapter 6. Ryeka

Sitting on my front porch with my breakfast is quickly becoming my favorite part of the day. Today promises to be another scorcher, but I figure I’ll need to get used to the heat as summer closes in on Texas. At least my house came with decent air conditioning.

This morning, however, it’s cool and pleasant sitting on my porch watching the delicately draping leaves on the mesquites dance in the gentle breeze. I bought some farm fresh eggs at yesterday’s market, and they’re possibly the best eggs I’ve ever tasted. Normally, I would mix peppers, mushrooms, and whatever else I had on hand to give them some flavor, but these don’t need anything else.

A plaintive mewling draws my attention to my decimated rose bushes. A tiny black face stares at me with one giant yellow eye. “Hello, kitten,” I say softly, not wanting to startle it. “Hungry?” I set my plate with the last of my scrambled egg on the ground a little reach away from me, suddenly glad I didn’t mix anything else into them.

The kitten creeps over, cautiously keeping it’s one eye on me until it reaches the plate of food. It’s a skinny little thing, but aside from missing an eye, it seems healthy enough as it gulps down the egg in large, greedy bites. When it’s finished, it sits back and fixes me with that wide staring eye again.

“It’s ok, cutie. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Apparently, I’m trustworthy, because it jumps up on the chair next to me and proceeds to clean its face with its paw before curling up on the seat and falling asleep.

Content to sip my tea listening to gentle birdsong, the breeze rustling through branches, and the sleeping kitten next to me, I let my thoughts drift once again to Jarek. I can’t understand why he’s been on my mind so much, or why I react to him quite so carnally. Normally, if a guy tried to kiss me like he has, he’d be sitting with an ice pack on his crotch for a week. No matter how hot he might be! But with Jarek, it’s like I’m losing my mind without him here. The only explanation is the story I’m working on has gotten into my head. Every time I write about my werewolf Alpha, I picture him with Jarek’s face and the story sort of devolves into impossible s*x acts and the sort of stamina that can only happen in fiction. It’s ok, but I’m worried that it might be too much. Not to mention that if that’s what’s been making me practically jump a stranger, I should probably attempt to get it under control.

Not that he seems to mind. Still, I don’t know anything about him! He doesn’t wear a wedding ring, but as a rancher, maybe that’s a liability. I feel like I should at least make sure he’s not married or in some other, similar, committed relationship before I try to swallow his tongue again.

The last time anything remotely like s*x happened for me was at a convention over a year ago and that freaked me out enough that I sort of buried my head in the sand. But maybe it’s time to put in a little effort. There wasn’t anything wrong with getting to know the handsome rancher who seemed to have taken up permanent residence in my personal fantasies, was there? I’m only 27 years old, it’s not like I’m a spinster yet. All we have to do is go five minutes without mauling each other on my porch. That might be where I find my biggest challenge.

I knew my reaction to Jarek couldn’t just be my neglected libido at fault. His friend, Chase, was equally as attractive, yet didn’t make me want to strip naked and ride his face. His sandy blond hair was shaggy but in a way that made him look carefree rather than unkempt. His build was leaner than Jarek’s but still muscular, the lean lines of his arms highlighted by tattoos that were more geometrical than Jarek’s organic designs. Where Jarek looked like he could happily bench press me, a thought that held a certain amount of appeal, Chase looked like he could run a marathon as a warm up. His lean face was clean shaven and deeply tanned, and his eyes, that had darted away from me like he was afraid to look too closely, had been two different colors. One blue, one brown. I tried to convince myself that it was a coincidence that I had given my fictional traitorous Beta bi-colored eyes. I suppose it's why I felt so instantly suspicious of Chase. I needed to get this story out of my head.

Sighing, I look down at my empty mug clutched in my fingers. “I suppose I should get to work. Horny werewolves aren’t going to write themselves.” The kitten peers up at me, annoyed to be awoken by my chatter.

Collecting my plate, licked clean by the kitten, I head inside. A black streak zooms passed me as I close the door. “Umm…”

The little kitten jumps up on my couch, sending me a look that clearly says, “What are you going to do about it?” and lays down, falling asleep once more.

I stand there staring at my new roommate and shrug. If a neighbor comes looking for their missing cat, I’ll hand the little rascal over, but at least for now it seems content. I’m going to need to get groceries soon, anyway, I guess I’ll also pick up a few necessities for… huh, I’m going to need to think of a name so I don’t keep referring to the cat as It.

First, I need to crank out a few hours writing.

I’m several pages in when I stop and close my eyes on a groan. Jarek referred to Chase as his Beta. Have I unwittingly stumbled into another fanatic situation?