Bad Boy Blogfest

Wow! Another blogfest. I love these things. It's fun to share something I've written, then check out everyone else's scenes. Thanks to Tina over at Sweet Niblets for this one. I mean, who can resist a bad boy? It's like chocolate - you know you shouldn't but it's so hard to be good!

This scene is out of the new sci-fi novel I'm working on. It's first draft unedited, so be patient with me. The MC is Jaska. He's a contract slave from another galaxy on a mission to win his freedom but accidentally ends up on Earth where he meets Amie in New York. This is his first meeting with her from his perspective. (And a PTD is a personal translocation device).

I've never seen anyone with hair that color. She ran right into me while I was shaking the lousy PTD trying to get it working so I could get the hell out of wherever this place is. I’ve been to cities bigger than this one, some encompassing entire planets. I’m not intimidated by hordes of people living in such close proximity. It happens everywhere. But it is intimidating to find yourself in a place where the language is foreign. And I speak a lot of languages. A quick glance confirms that this is easily a third or even fourth world planet. No advanced tech and probably no off-world contact. Time to leave.

But then this woman runs into me and I can’t stop staring at the hair. It’s the color of desert sand at sunset. She asks me something in her language, which is harsh-sounding and tongue twisting. I quit staring at her hair and focus on her eyes, which are such a light blue they’re nearly gray. Her face is sprinkled with dainty freckles. She asks me something again.

“Look, lady, I can’t understand you,” I say, pointing at my ears like that’ll help her understand. I give the PTD another shake, then shrug my shoulders. “My translocation device is shot.”

She looks at me funny. I’ve known enough women to recognize the look. She’s attracted. I sigh. Then she grabs my arm and pulls. Not a good idea. It’s bad enough to have a chip implanted in my neck restricting me, but I’m not a fan of being man-handled. Even by a gorgeous woman. She backs off some and says something else. I can’t tell what from the words, but she softens her tone then offers her hand. Well, why not. The blasted PTD is dead and I’m not going to fix it standing here in the middle of all these people. If I’m going to need help it may as well be easy on the eyes.

I roll up the PTD and stuff it in my pack, then pull the translator from my compad and cram it in my ear. I’ve never used it because every kid learns enough languages to get by in the world before he’s ten. I’ve learned even more in my line of work. But I’m going to need the translator now. It’s supposed to be able to learn new languages quickly. Let’s hope. I sling my pack over my shoulder and take her hand. It’s slim and dainty in mine and her skin is cool to the touch. Damn. I’ve gotta be careful.

There you have it. Hope you enjoyed! Now, go over to Tina's place and read the rest!