Shards of the Eld

Urban Fantasy in Scandinavian Setting

Status

2nd draft

59 737 words

An ambitious journalist student/burlesque dancer meets a hot-blooded playboy. Their flirty games become serious as a serial killer is on the loose. She has to uncover the truth about her foe and her own mystic legacy-and pick up the pieces of her shattered mind- before he strikes again.

This story started as a supposed-erotica in 2012 NaNoWriMo. I wrote 20 000 words and gave up, since (as it turns out) I'm really bad at writing actual erotica. I can do sexual tension, but not really the actual sex scenes.

In November 2013 I had worked on the ideas during the summer, and taken a week off work, so I managed to win that year, writing in Swedish. After that I let it rest, since I knew there were more in the series. I am now translating it to English, since the trilogy is plotted, if not written yet.

Point of View Characters

• Vendela Fridh–an ambitious and calculating journalist student with a forgotten past, who works extra at a burlesque-inspired strip club
• Andrej Narychkine–a rich playboy with a dark secret, whose charm runs headfirst into the controlled Vendela

Other notable characters

• Sia Starholm–Vendela’s BFF, as impulsive as Vendela is cool, whose luck with the ladies is close to non-existent
• Katja Bradley–Andrej’s friend-with-benefits, a fashion designer with a wicked sense of humour
• Princess Helga Nikolovna Narychkina–Russian in exile, Andrej’s paternal grandmother, Sia’s employer, and a formidable grand dame

Excerpt

Andrej straightened, staring at the lit stage. He cleared his throat, adjusting the silver-striped tie. The woman dancing with unmistakable ease wore red silk and lace that matched her crimson lips. Her white-blonde locks framed her pale face and eyes that were remote and amused at the same time. His dark brown eyes met her ice blue a heartbeat too long and he inhaled sharply.

"Anything you’re fancying?" Johan leaned back against the uncomfortable wicker chair, running a hand through his short, dark brown hair. Andrej shrugged, not loosing sight of the sensual dancer and her long legs encased in fishnet stockings that tied around her thighs with red ribbons.

"Maybe. She’s a good dancer." He sipped his Cosmopolitan, twirling the glass with long fingers.

"I can see that." Johan smirked. "You haven’t complained once about the … venue since she entered the stage." He glanced at the other three men for agreement, which they teasingly and readily gave.

"How about you then?" Andrej raised a dark eyebrow, turning his sharp features towards his friend. "How will Ann feel about this bachelor party?"

"It could be worse." The groom-to-be shrugged. "You remember my brother’s party? Well … you probably do. He still doesn’t."

Andrej nodded, distracted by the dancer’s leg wrapping around the pole, the desire to have her legs wrapped around him rising. He flashed canine teeth as she approached him, strutting down the stairs and into the audience. She gasped with parted lips as he grabbed her hips, pulling her to him. He teased the pale skin, slipping a bill into her garter. Something else flashed through her amusement, before she pulled away with a coquettish giggle. He released her, watching her move through the crowd and gathering tips from her entranced audience.