Jude’s Blog

Archive for the 'Excerpts' Category

Please welcome guest blogger, Tina Gayle, an erotic author with Amira Press:

What is your main inspiration for writing and why?

The need to tell a story. I’ve been a story tell all my life. After my kids got to old to listen and I learn to write adult tales, I enjoy putting my story on paper and sharing with others who love romances.

How many books have you written and which is your favorite?

Six, and Mating Rituals is one of my favorites but Summer’s Growth which is coming out in 2010 from Wild Child Press holds top spot in my heart.

What book are you promoting today?

Mating Rituals from Amira Press

ISBN: 978-1-935348-58-0
Genres: Fantasy Romance
Heat Level: Spicy
Word Count: 82,800
Blurb-

With rock-hard fortitude, Marohka Taunton battles to maintain her position as top mineralogist and refuses to see why she should marry even if the law requires she take a mate. Fighting her attraction for Stihl Fermesium, she struggles to save her father’s company.

Stihl, determined to win her as his mate, is faced with the commission deal of a lifetime and needs the money to save his family land. He wrestles with her emotional resistance and discovers someone other than Marohka is unhappy about their union. In fact, they want to separate them in the most basic of ways, death.

Excerpt-

Staring straight ahead, Marohka Taunton avoided eye contact with every man she passed. Moving along the edge of the dance floor, she wove her way back and forth across the assigned path. Her steps, jerky and clumsy, she hid her natural smooth gait. No man, in his right mind, craved an ungraceful wife. At least, she hoped not.

With the stairs a few steps ahead, she tasted victory and allowed herself a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

A masculine voice in front of her chuckled. “It’s not over yet, princess.”

Marohka paused to inspect the stranger. The laughter reflected in his warm brown eyes—surprised, the intelligent focus—intrigued, and the dark spark of interest—captivated.
A foreign response slithered through her chest. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Her heartbeat rang in her ears. Her hands turned clammy. Awareness of the man claimed her senses.

His face, framed by dark brown hair, showed rough lines of strength and fortitude. A crooked nose, a square jaw, and a chiseled chin marked his unique personality. Added together, the sum indicated the man rarely backed down from a fight. He’d stand up for his beliefs and defeat his opponents. His lopsided grin with a dimple at the corner of his mouth teased her.

A silly feature on such a stern face. The little mark claimed her heart and spoke of a rare sense of humor, a trait absent in most men.

A tingle ran down her spine. Her toes curled. Either as an appealing partner or a worthy adversary, the man presented a dangerous combination. Right then, without question, Marohka decided never to cross paths with him again.

“It is for me,” she responded to his comment. She lifted her chin a little higher and repaired the chip in her armor with a sassy comeback. “But you’re welcome to any of the girls behind me. I’m sure they’ll enjoy your charm.”

Marohka lifted her skirt and swept up the stairs. The sound of his laughter spoiled her intended snub.

To read more and/or order, be sure to visit Amira Press!

Thanks for stopping by, Tina! Good luck with Mating Rituals!

I’d like to welcome my first guest blogger today! Her name is Olivia Starke, a fellow Cobblestone Press author!

Why do you write and what are your inspirations?

I write because I love it, as do all authors I suppose. I have always had a vivid imagination. I was the kid sitting in class staring out the window daydreaming of different worlds. Of course I do that now in any regular job I have as well. As a child my parents were told I had ADHD, but I believe I was simply an artist and storyteller needing an outlet! It wasn’t until last summer when I took a romance writing class online it suddenly clicked that this is something I should seriously consider. I had written a ‘novel’ in 7th grade about a love story between a pegasus and unicorn. I got journalism awards in high school for stories I’d written and even had a poem published at the time. I let writing fall to the wayside, unfortunately, for too many years. In this class I rediscovered my passion.

I love providing my readers some escapism. I want my readers to feel what my characters are feeling, to really imagine their worlds. This is something magical to me, and why I personally love reading so much.

My inspirations are varied. It can be something I see while driving down the road, but more often than not I have an idea or just a sentence come to mind and I write around that. I have a never ending flow of internal inspirations that I can’t keep up with.

What is your favorite genre to write about?

My favorite genre to write is paranormal/fantasy. I’m a horror movie fan and a science geek so these areas seem normal to me. I also like to throw in suspense to keep one on their toes. These are areas I prefer to read, though I do enjoy historical as well–something I’d like to tackle someday.

Visit me at www.OliviaStarke.webs.com

http://RomancingThePenToday.blogspot.com

What is the book you’re promoting today?

Order of Terminus: Blood Heat

Detective Josie Lewis, a homicide investigator, finds herself looking into two brutal murders in her Illinois town. When a tall sexy suspect makes an appearance she has no idea the turn her life is about to take.

Can she trust Grant Stone, or will she become another murder victim?

Following is an excerpt of this erotic romance:

An officer gagged next to her, and Josie Lewis barked, “Don’t do that here.” She pointed toward the door. “You’ll contaminate evidence.”

The rookie police officer darted outside, and moments later, she heard his retching. Josie shook her head in empathy as the smell boiled up into her nostrils, forcing her to take shallow breaths. The heavy curtains on the bedroom windows were drawn, leaving a fitting, somber ambience and obscuring what was surely an even more horrendous sight in broad daylight.

Jotting notes into a small notepad, she nodded toward the coroner who’d just arrived.

“Hey, Josie, how’s little league going?” the coroner, Dr. Katherine Walsh, asked. She was a petite woman, barely five-foot-one, with a touch of grey laced in her curly black hair.

The coroner surveyed the bloody scene. Her soft, flowery perfume wafted to Josie, and she sucked in a greedy sniff of the jasmine bergamot mixture that momentarily overrode the smell of death.

“Pretty good,” Josie said. “My nephew is first base this year. How’s Caroline’s new job?”

Dr. Walsh was kneeling next to the body looking it over, lifting it this way and that. “She loves it. She’s worked so hard for her doctrine in psychology, the position at the children’s hospital is a dream come true. I’d say this poor woman has been dead for three days.” Dr. Walsh sighed and brushed a strand of curly hair from her forehead with the back of her hand. “Caroline and I are having a barbeque next week. You need to come over and see the new décor.”

“Sounds great,” Josie said. “Cause of death?”

“Looks like she bled out from the laceration on her neck. Odd though. I’d expect more blood than this.” Dr. Walsh looked around the horrific scene. “I’ll let Caroline know.”

“More blood than this?” Josie cocked her brows.

Shrugging, the coroner stood and removed her latex gloves. “We’ll see after an autopsy. Crime scene can come in now.” She nodded toward several individuals standing just within the doorway, and they entered carrying large black cases.

Dr. Walsh wrinkled her nose. “If you ever get used to this smell, it’s time to leave the business.”

Standing outside the home, Josie ignored the flashes from cameras and news reporters who shouted for comments as she thought about the scene inside. Jolene Gomez had been a fifty-seven year old divorced mother of two. Her youngest had just married, and Jolene would have had her second grandchild in six months. The woman now lay face down on her bedroom floor with her throat torn out. Blood smeared the wall above the bed as if someone had run bloody hands over them.

Who would do this?

Franklin, Illinois was a moderate-sized city an hour and a half south of Chicago. They weren’t used to crimes this horrific.

What side of hell would you live in to be used to this?

She lifted her gaze from the notepad as a fellow detective approached.

“Hey, Lewis,” Detective Jones said, crossing thick arms over his chest. “What are we looking at here?”

“God only knows,” she replied, tapping her pen against the pad of paper. “Go take a look.”

Jones walked into the home. He soon reappeared, shaking his head and looking a little ashen.

“Holy hell,” he said, eyeing the reporters who were like hungry dogs hot on a trail. They strained to hear the conversation, and Jones lowered his voice.

“Drugs? I saw some cases like this in St. Louis that involved Meth,” Jones said. “Maybe not quite as bloody, though.”

“The friend…” Josie glanced at her notepad. “…a Mrs. Susan Wells, said the victim lived a clean life.”

Jones ran a beefy hand over his shaved head. A man in his mid forties, he was what some women would consider attractive with his deep-set green eyes and tall, solid build. Josie had never noticed him in that way. She could never be involved with a fellow cop, or any officer of the law for that matter. She typically went for the blond playboy jock types who knew how to love ’em and leave ’em. Having grown up in a home where male role models came and went depending on her mother’s whims, she shied away from permanency.

Jones scribbled on a notepad of his own, a sloppy chicken scratch that left Josie curious if he’d be able to decipher it later. Her gaze roamed over the crowd that had assembled along the street. She studied each individual from behind her dark, aviator-style sunglasses, looking for anything that might catch her interest. Mostly middle-aged, middle-class neighbors, but one figure stood out to her. He was a tall man, late-thirtyish with a muscular, athletic build, sandy brown hair, and eyes hidden behind his own aviator shades. His skin looked tanned against the crisp, white polo shirt he wore.

It’s fifty degrees out here, and he’s at ease in a short-sleeved shirt?

Josie committed his physical description to memory. Jones asked a couple of questions, and Josie referred to her notes. When she looked back toward the milling assembly of people, the man had disappeared.

To read more and/or order, be sure to visit Cobblestone Press!

Do you have anything else you’d like to add?

My next release is Order of Terminus: Blood Desires coming out Jan. 29th at Cobblestone.

Thank you for stopping by, Olivia, and good luck with both of your releases!

Cobblestone Press has contracted my second erotic romance, which is the paranormal continuation of my A Modern Myth trilogy. Following is an unedited sneak peak at the first chapter of Drew’s Awakening:

A few hours later Sara and Tina stood beside the table and watched the men play. “Leo’s hot, huh?”
Sara choked on her beer and gaped at Tina. She tried to shrug and act disinterested.
Tina laughed. “I know you like him, don’t deny it.”
Sara blushed and looked toward the game. Leo saw her and waved.
“How do you know him?” She asked Tina, waving back.
“He’s my instructor.”
That got Sara’s attention, and she gave her friend a questioning look.
Tina laughed at her raised eyebrows. “He’s teaching me to drive a motorcycle.”
Sara cringed and looked at Leo serving the ball. He took off his shirt, and she watched the muscles in his chest and abdomen as he stretched to spike the ball. Her gaze lingered on his well-sculpted torso and marveled over his tan skin. “I didn’t know you wanted to learn.” She imagined her friend seated between Leo’s spread thighs on a cycle, and the surge of jealousy surprised her.
“Yeah, for a while now. You should learn, too.”
Even as she shook her head Sara debated the thought. It would give her a reason to see him again. It hadn’t been too bad riding his earlier.
“Does he ride with you?” Her face fell as Tina shook her head.
“I practice on my own bike.” A smile crept across her friend’s face. “You can ask him to ride with you. I’m sure he won’t mind.” She playfully bumped Sara’s hip for emphasis. Sara blushed redder as she noticed Leo watching them. “Maybe I should rejoin the game.”
Not giving Tina a chance to respond, Sara ran over to the net. Leo smiled as she neared.
“How’s the birthday girl?”
She took a deep breath before responding. “I just realized my groceries are probably getting too hot in your cycle. Can you take me home so I can put them in the fridge?”
His eyes widened slightly. “Now? Sure.” He walked over to retrieve his shirt, pulling it on as they walked along the shore.
“We’ll be right back.” She called to Tina, who winked at her with a knowing grin.
“Take your time. We’ll be here all night.”

When they got to the cycle, Sara sucked in her breath for the nerve to ask the impossible. “You want to check on your stuff before we leave?”
His question threw her at first, and she stared blankly at him.
“Your food?” He clarified.
She gasped, forgetting her excuse for them to leave the party. “Sure.” She held her breath as he leaned over the bike, her gaze moving over his ass, the denim stretching across its tautness.
Leo looked over his shoulder and caught her stare. His lips softened in a smile as his gaze traveled her shapely curves. She took the bag from him and busied herself with checking inside, though she didn’t really look. Her mind stayed on the sexy man in front of her.
“Can I ride in front?” She braced herself for his response, which didn’t come. Sara slowly looked up to meet his unreadable expression.
“That’s not really safe,” he finally said.
She shrugged. “Guess I’m feeling a bit reckless.” She hoped he couldn’t see her trembling with fear.
Leo sighed. “Where do you live, Sara?” He looked thoughtful after she told him. “Sure, why not. Hop on.”
Not expecting it, her eyes widened. “I, uh…” She stammered, unable to speak.
A corner of Leo’s mouth moved up as he held out a hand. “Come on, don’t be scared.” Sara shook her head. “I’m not scared.”
To prove her point, she walked over to the cycle and mounted it. In an instant Leo was nestled behind her, and Sara sighed. His arms slid across her ribcage to grip the handles. She shivered in the forced embrace, closing her eyes with a deeper sigh. Lifting himself to start the cycle, his crotch slid down her back as he reseated. Sara, happy he couldn’t see her face, licked her lips.
As the cycle jerked forward, she dug her fingers into his thighs and closed her eyes. Sara laughed and screamed at the same time.
She feared opening her eyes and kept her back pressed to Leo’s warm chest. The air was cool, but his enveloping heat kept the chill away. Sara just began to relax when the bike stopped. She opened her eyes to see her apartment. Unable to move at first, her hands remained on his thighs. Leo’s hands covered hers and squeezed. She looked down and smiled. His chin rested on her shoulder, and their cheeks touched. Wanting to stay like that forever, her eyes fluttered closed.
“Don’t forget about your food.” His voice broke the spell, and Sara sucked in her breath, forcing a nod.
“Right,” she muttered and crawled off the bike.
Leo held her elbow to keep her from stumbling. “Should I wait here?”
She froze. Did she want him in her apartment? Hadn’t that been the reason for them leaving her party? “I might be awhile. You can come in if you want.”
His nonchalant shrug looked strangely sensual to Sara, and she fought licking her lips. She gestured toward her home and then led the way, taking a deep breath as she carried her bag of food. Nothing really needed to be kept cool, but she wanted to be alone with him. He’s a stranger, she reminded herself as she unlocked the door. Sara could feel Leo’s breath on the back of her neck, but he didn’t touch her. Would he?
She unlocked and opened the front door, stepping into the living room. The cool air inside made a sharp contrast to the moist heat from outside and chill bumps rose on her arms. Sara resisted the urge to rub them as she held out an arm to the couch. Leo looked around the small room, which was barely large enough for the couch and TV stand. His gaze lingered on the wide screen monitor, and she shrugged.
“It’s too big for the room, I know, but I couldn’t resist it. Don’t need to go to the movie theaters now.” She gave him a sheepish smile, and he nodded but didn’t move from the door, merely closed it behind him. The kitchen was directly off the living room but visible from the front door. She could feel Leo watching her as she carried her grocery bag to the fridge. Not caring to put anything away right then, she merely put the full bag inside and then leaned against the appliance once she’d closed it. Her gaze met Leo’s across the room. His face was mostly in shadow, but she could still see his eyes.
“I need to get cleaned up. Didn’t expect you to take me to my own party.” A nervous giggle slipped out, and she cringed.
“No problem,” he said with a grin, his expression unreadable.
Sara nodded, sidestepping the kitchen and then backing out of the living room. “Make yourself comfortable,” she suggested, pointing at the couch. Closing the door to her bedroom but leaving it unlocked, she placed her forehead to the cool wood and took a deep breath. She had been stalked in the other room and wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Something told Sara that she wouldn’t mind being that man’s prey. Smiling at such a thought, she pushed away from the door and began to strip off her clothes.
Sara felt a bit wicked getting naked with a man in the other room, especially a man like Leo, a man she barely knew. She caught her reflection in the closet mirror and smiled at the flush in her cheeks. Her gazed traveled down her nakedness, wondering if Leo would appreciate her flawless dark skin. She shook her head at her own foolishness, heading for the bathroom. Turning on the shower and testing the water, she stepped under the hot spray.
Sara enjoyed the water coursing through her hair and down her body. After washing her hair and soaping up her body, she fantasized that her hands were Leo’s. His hands followed hers from her breasts, down her stomach and between her legs. His soapy fingers delved through the black curls to slip inside her body. Throwing her head back with a sigh, she held her breath as the shower door slid open.

Faith’s Portrait is current available to Elite/VIP Staffers on my forum. It can also be purchased online at lulu.com.
Chapter 1

She found the house by accident, had taken a wrong turn on her way home from therapy. Claire Todds stopped the car at the curb and stared at the three-story building. It had obviously not been taken care of and was a bit dilapidated, but the “For Rent” sign in the window caught her gaze. She quickly wrote down the phone number listed on the sign and then sat back and again stared at the house. A smile broke through her normal austere expression as she gazed at it. Claire could see herself living there. She finally took note of the surrounding area. The nearest house was a block away, so there was utter privacy. A high fence encompassed the back yard, which looked huge from her vantage point. She did frown as she finally noticed all the weeds in front yard. Claire would definitely have to hire some of the local boys in the neighborhood to help out. She suddenly laughed, already feeling as if the place were hers.
Feeling her mood greatly lifted, Claire pulled away from the house and made her way home. She normally had nothing to be happy about on her way home from therapy, which was always a painful ordeal. Her hips and legs always screamed in agony for at least two days afterwards, but she knew it was important. If her parents hadn’t made her go to the necessary sessions every week, she might never have regained her ability to walk. She sighed as she remembered the accident.
Claire had been crossing the street when a car made an illegal turn and had struck her. Her hips and legs had been crushed and many painful surgeries had followed. She had only been sixteen at the time and even a decade later, she still suffered from the accident. She couldn’t even be overly mad at the driver of the car, who had been an old man. He claimed he hadn’t seen her. The only thing that had happened to him was losing his license, as his vision had obviously not been good enough for him to still be driving. Though she tried not to remember him being more concerned with his expensive BMW than whether or not he had killed her. At least he had full coverage, so all her medical bills had been taken care of. She still wished someone had the sense to take away his license before that fateful day.
She sighed as she shook her head. “No use crying over spilt milk,” Claire muttered to herself as she pulled into the driveway of her parent’s home. She had been able to move away from home for quite a few years, but it took time to work up the nerve. Since the accident, her parents spoiled her and hadn’t wanted her to live on her own. They always feared that she would fall and would be unable to make it to a phone to call for help. She would laugh and tell them they were being silly. “Nothing’s wrong with my arms, you know?” She would always answer.
Claire now sat with the slip of paper in her hands where she had written the phone number. She would call first and see if the house was affordable before telling her parents about it. With a deep sigh, she pushed open the car door. Grabbing her cane from the passenger side, she used it and the door to get out of the car. Pain shot through her and she bit her lip to keep from moaning. The front door opened and her mother raced out.
“Honey, do you need help?”
Claire held up her free hand and shook her head. “No, Mom, I’m OK! Just landed wrong.” She finished with a forced smile.
Her mother shook her head and wrung her hands as she watched her daughter limp her way toward her. “You sure, Claire?”
Claire sighed, feeling her joints loosening up a bit. “I’m just a bit tight right now. I’ll feel better in a few hours.” That was the truth after all. There were even some days that she didn’t even need the cane to walk. Her limp was obviously noticeable, but there wasn’t always pain. After ten years, she had gotten almost used to the dull throb that constantly plagued her.
“Well, I made a cake…chocolate…your favorite. Would you like me to cut you a slice?”
“Sure, Mom. That sounds great!”
While her mom went into the kitchen, Claire walked into her room. She had been upstairs until the accident, but usually tried to avoid stairs. Her therapist made her use the Stair Master, which she absolutely hated.
She walked over to the phone and dialed the number on the slip of paper. A man answered. “Sam here.”
“Oh hi! I’m calling about the house on Elm? Is it still for rent?”
There was a slight pause and the shuffling sound of paper. “Well, yes it is. Actually it was just listed this morning.”
“This morning?” Claire repeated, clearly shocked that she just happened to run across it the very day it was listed. “Well, I’m very curious what the rent is.”
“$800 a month.”
Claire gasped. “For that mansion?”
Sam chuckled on the other end. “Well, I wouldn’t call it a mansion. Might have been back in the day, but…well, you saw it. It hasn’t been taken care of. A bit of a fixer upper. I’m actually surprised the owners aren’t trying to sell it instead of renting.”
“I’ll take it.” She said quickly.
“Well, how about that. I’ll just need you to come into the office and fill out the paperwork, then, Miss…?”
“Oh, Claire…Claire Todds.” She was so happy that she could barely hear the rest of what he said, but she wrote down the address of his office, made an appointment and then hung up the phone. Her hand still rested on the receiver when her mother came into her room.
“Did you make a call, dear?” She asked, the slice of cake in her hand.
Claire nodded, the smile slowly fading. Now she had to tell her parents.

All her family and friends came out for the move. They had her packed and transported over as soon as her application went through and the house was hers. There was a basement, which was the perfect location for her dark room. Photography had always been her passion, and she made a good living from it as well. Some of her photos had even made it into national magazines.
Claire did as much as she could, but for the most part just stayed in one place and unpacked things. Her friends helped clean up the downstairs. No one did much with either of the upstairs floors, since they felt she wouldn’t be spending any time up there. Her parents had been shocked to see the house their daughter had rented. They just couldn’t understand why their crippled daughter would want a three-story house. She tried to explain that her therapist had been pushing for her to use stairs more often, as that would work out her legs and hips more. Just going down to the basement would surely help out, though she couldn’t wait to explore the entire house. The pain of her recent therapy session had mostly faded, and the excitement of the move made her feel more than up for the task.
As her parents attacked the lawn, and her best friend put things away in her new bedroom, Claire made her way down to the basement. She cringed the entire way and sighed as she reached the bottom. She was happy to see that someone had already cleared away the cobwebs and left the boxes of her photo gear on the worktable. There was even a clothesline that spanned the width of the room. Claire hobbled over to the boxes and opened the first one. As she set things on the table, her gaze went about the room and stopped directly across from her. “What is that?” She asked herself. Putting the bottle of solution on the table, she walked around it and headed for the far wall. She gasped as she realized what it was. She slid the door of the dumbwaiter open and peered inside. It was huge! Did it even work anymore? She pushed the button to the right of the miniature elevator and jumped a bit as it began moving up. She slammed her palm against the button again to bring it back down. Biting her lip as an idea formed in her mind, she turned and sat on the edge and then slid herself in backwards. Claire bit her lip at the throb in her hips and pulled herself in the rest of the way. Being very curious as to how far up it went, Claire reached over and hit the button, wrapping her arms around her knees as the dumbwaiter began its slow journey upwards.
She counted the doors on her way and held her breath as she passed the first door, wondering if anyone in the house could hear her. It was remarkably silent for not being used in many years, and Claire giggled like a schoolgirl as she passed another door. She was surprised when she didn’t stop at the third door, before realizing that the dumbwaiter must go all the way to the attic. She couldn’t believe her luck. She would be able to get throughout the house without having to endure the pain of using the stairs. She silently clapped her hands together in excitement, totally anxious to see what she would find in the attic.
When her little personal elevator stopped, she slid the door open and gazed out into the dark attic. Frowning, she leaned out a bit to see if there were any windows. She slid out of the dumbwaiter and limped her way over to the far wall. Light filtered around the edges of something propped on some boxes. She realized it was a large picture frame and moved it aside. The sudden brightness nearly blinded Claire who shielded her eyes with her hand, turning her back to the small round window.
Her gaze scanned the many boxes and articles that cluttered the large attic. As she looked around, she figured that the attic must cover the entire top of the house. She spotted the staircase that descended to the third floor on her right, but she paid it no mind. She would be going down the way she had come up. Claire looked from one item to the next: an old rocking horse, jack in the box, dollhouse, dolls, baby carriage, and the list went on and on. There had to be at least 50 boxes, all varying in size.
“Maybe that’s why they’re renting and not selling. They don’t want to clean out this place,” she said aloud with a smile. Claire looked back at the picture frame she had moved out of the way. It now leaned against the boxes beside her, and she reached for it. It had to be at least 3 feet high and maybe 2 feet wide. She immediately noticed how nice the frame was and absently wondered how much it was worth. As she realized it wasn’t hers, she shook her head at her own thought. Claire held it up in front of her and gasped.
The woman in the portrait was certainly younger than Claire and far prettier. Her hair was in an old style fashion that she had only seen in a few movies, as was her dress. Claire finally looked at the woman’s face, and her eyes widened. She looked sort of lost and a bit sad. As she looked into the younger woman’s eyes, she had the deepest desire to touch the painted face. The eyes looked so real that it almost looked like a living photograph…and that’s what she thought it was at first, but as Claire held the frame closer to the light, she could clearly see that it was an original painting. She reluctantly tore her gaze from those haunted eyes and looked at the bottom of the painting for the artist’s name. She couldn’t decipher the tiny scrawl and shook her head.
“So very beautiful,” she sighed. Not wanting to leave the portrait in a dusty attic, Claire took it with her back to the dumbwaiter. Though she still wanted to explore, she might be missed soon and didn’t want anyone to worry about her. The painting fit nicely in the back of the dumbwaiter and Claire slid in beside it, and then the two of them made their way back down to the basement.

---