— Regular Teasers —
♥ Chapter 6 of "Spinal Cord" by Midnight Ariel **Alice & Jasper**
♥ Chapter 5 of "The Yorkshire Refugees" by Katharina G **Edward & Bella**
— V Wicked Teasers —
A different kind of pimpage. Give the fandom a taste of your fic in 125 words or less.
*** Chapter 6 Teaser ***
Hearing Scott’s words, the entire army fell silent and still as only vampires can. Instinctively, they knew something was off. Only their eyes moved as they followed the Major and Captain. Some of the newborns were scared by the silent rage they felt from the empath, while others were excited at the prospect of another display of battle skill. A few even hoped the new vampires would be ripped apart.
If only the brothers were that calm.
Jasper and Scott walked along the ledge without speaking, their footfalls echoing against the stone. Backs straight, jaws clenched, each man was going over the situation in his mind, trying to find a way to get their wives out of danger—quite impossible now that Marcus was involved.
The Major and his Captain stopped at the east edge of the deck. Their audience—the entire situation—demanded discretion. So while he couldn’t speak freely, Jasper’s gift was able to convey his displeasure clearly. After reminding himself he would be speaking very freely, very soon, he was able to keep his voice indifferent. “Seems you come highly recommended.”
Alice and Diane stood on the opposite sides of the deck: silent, eyes down in submission. When Jasper’s anger washed over them they held in their reactive growls. This was not like last year, when their training sessions had been a family affair. Diane knew those below would be watching, waiting to see if the Major would be obeyed; anything less and he would be seen as weak—a target to be taken down. It was the way things worked. While Alice had little knowledge of what was required, Diane did. She had spent two decades as a military wife. Now a vampire, blending the two worlds wasn’t hard at all, and she had schooled her sister well.
Too angry to be impressed, the Major laid down the same law he had for the other guards. “That recommendation may have got you in the door, but all that matters now is what you do here. And here, my word is law. Rule number one: My methods are my own and are not to be questioned. If you have a problem with that then I suggest you leave right now.”
Summary: The summer of 1858, England. The Great Stink has overtaken London and scattered its upper-class inhabitants, ruining the Season. A small group lands in a remote corner of Yorkshire, creating an uproar in the previously tranquil neighborhood. For the young, privileged and important, it seems the upcoming summer is all that there is and all that they need. They are the new London.
*** Chapter 5 Teaser ***
Esme asked, "What do you think, Mr. Masen? Would your town of birth be gracious enough to host the crème de la crème when the season is upon us?”
“Well, if only the crème de la crème - we are an ambitious, discriminating lot, after all.”
“Yes, the ambitious and the discriminating will surely see themselves as able to pick and choose as they see fit,” Isabella said with thinly veiled sarcasm. “In the end, though, the crème de la crème might just find the smoke and the noise not for the benefit of their delicate sensitivities, and then poor Manchester is left with nothing but wounded pride.”
Isabella had gone too far this time. A silence came over the table. Alice quietly sighed and with resignation, reached for her wine; Esme gave Izzy a reproachful look as she could not do much else with Mr. Masen sitting between them, and Mr. Swan tried to hide his smile, having noticed Mr. Masen’s drastic change of attitude toward his daughter and her own distressed notice of it, as well. Knowing the similarities between the temperaments of his wife and daughter, he knew well enough not to interfere. There was no use.
This, though, finally got Mr. Masen’s attention. He’d almost fully turned toward her and was now staring at her in slight shock. Their eyes locked; one with challenge in them, the other with piercing scrutiny. They were having a silent stand-off of sorts. “I beg your pardon?” he said evenly into the silence.
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