A teaser...

I am soooo close to finishing this never-ending story. Though, unless I drive myself into the ground and stay up for the next three days and nights, typing non-stop, I will not finish by Valentine's Day. But you know what? I don't care. I will finish it within the next week or so, and that's good enough for me.

One thing I really hate, as a reader, is the big build-up of whatever needs resolution in the final chapter(s) of a book, and you turn the page...to find the story is over. Too fast. Too quick. I found myself the other day forcing myself to hurry. I was like the horse who sees the barn ahead and just wants that hay. I don't want a rushed, unsatisfactory ending. So, I will eat some grass along the way, ignore the barn and hold off charging for the hay until I'm ready.

Now, the teaser below will be basically meaningless since I'm the only one who knows what has gone before. Still. I thought I would share part of a chapter that is bringing me home, baby...the light at the end of the tunnel is almost blinding me. Also, what is below is not cast in stone. Tomorrow I might change it. Maybe. Truthfully, it's one of my favorite bits. I love how the long, lost brother shows up. And...sigh...he rides a Harley, too...but sshhh, nobody knows that yet.

    Alex knew he didn't have a hope of getting to Rowan in time. In a deep recess of his mind he was aware that Colin was watching his back, his gunfire giving him a chance, protecting him in his bid to do the impossible, but on every other level his mind was screaming in terror as he leaped forward.
    The spell was failing, the walls of snow slowly drifting apart to fill the avenue with thick, white flakes. Alex had only taken two frantic bounds when a gale of wind hit him in the back with a staggering force. He reeled, then crashed to the ground, sliding in the deep snow, an anguished howl ripping from his throat as he scrambled to his feet.
    His heart was pounding violently--he might die of the hammering pain before he died from losing Rowan. The snow was falling heavily, obscuring his vision, but still he ran, desperation clawing deep furrows through his gut.
    As he neared the shattered front doors, expecting to see Rowan crushed and broken on the stone steps, he slammed to a halt, though his momentum kept him skating forward over the icy ground. Off balance, he fell to his knees and stared in shocked disbelief.
    Rowan’s limp body floated in the air a foot off the ground, gently swaying in the wind that held her. He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. Only his lost brother, Brann, could have worked the wind--
   He slowly turned to look over his shoulder. Colin was also on the ground, but as Alex watched, he whirled fluidly to one knee, raised his weapon and aimed it with a steady hand back toward the opening in the demolished stone rampart. Both brothers gaped at the figure who came striding out of the swirling snow.
    His hair, raven-wing black, whipped in the wind that spun around his tall, muscular frame. Thick strands tangled and coiled across his chest and hard face, while others blew in long streamers over his shoulders. Sharp cheekbones left shadows over a clenched jaw, tight with hostility. His angry mouth made his full lips appear thin and mean. Silvery, gray eyes, outlined with an edge of darkness, flashed menace like a lightning storm. His black leather duster danced around his Faded Glory motorcycle boots until a gust of wind lifted the edge and snapped it back, the great flapping wing billowing behind him, exposing a black sweater molded to a powerful chest and long legs encased in equally black jeans. He wore fingerless, black leather gloves and a bad attitude.
    He looked like Death, coming for a handshake.
    Colin slowly rose to his feet, unable to believe what was stalking towards him. Then a wide, incredulous grin spread across his face and he laughed. “Oh man, if you weren’t my brother, I’d be scared shitless right about now.”
    A deep, rough voice growled, “Keep that option open.”