If you were wondering if I still updated this blog, the answer is yes! I finally have something. I have always wanted to do this----put all my characters in a room (or as many as possible)----and see what happens. Since I'm in a Treyu headspace, we get to do this from his POV, which means we get to meet him and Zhang. Sorry! Atlanta and Gemini aren't here.
I'm super excited about this and there is opportunity for more episodes of all my characters in a room. Feel free to comment at the bottom. I would love to hear from you! This is almost 10K long!
I wouldn't take anything too seriously. It's all just flavors. This is meant to be fun and imaginative ;)
I can't recall where I found this amazing art piece, but it is NOT mine. I used this to inspire me for Treyu.
Checking my phone—to see if I’ve got the right place—I confer with the address on the building. I expected an office building, not a condo. Why is this office in a condo? I want to tell my story to a professional—only a professional can tell my story.
“What kind of a name is ‘Mock’ anyway?”
Suddenly, a shadow casts over the sun, blocking my view of the bright Vancouver condos.
“If I turn around and that’s you, Zhang—”
“You’ll what, Orion?”
Mother of the fucking starchild. I turn and yep, it’s him. All Eight feet of him with the loose parts of his long red hair whipping in the wind and a mop of it tied into a loose bun on top. He’s got his serious frown on. I don’t even think he means for his face to look that way. His jaw is just so square and … and perfect.
I don’t bother with his question. That’s not going to lead anywhere good for me. “You’re supposed to blend in, Centaurus. You stick out like pumpkin on a grapevine.” He didn’t even leave his swords at home—they’re right on his back. And that long red jacket, fuck. At least we can pass off like we’ve just come from a comic convention or something.
My black leather jacket and pants are fine on their own—maybe I’m in a biker gang—but paired with him, we look like freaks.
“She’s our author. She knows everything about us. What would be the point?”
“She’s not our anything, Zhang. She’s mine. All mine. You, run along.” I clap him on the back and attempt to walk by him.
He grips my wrist in a vice lock. He’s a star. I’m just a starry has-been. Ergo, I’m not getting out of this grip until he lets me go.
Hot. So hot.
Do not think hot thoughts about Zhang or that’s going to be many, many centuries wasted hating him. Though hate-sex is always good. I’ve read enough romance to know. Hate-to-love trope has got to be on my top five.
Also, I’ve had enough hate sex to know.
Zhang smiles. He knows exactly what I’m thinking. Gods fucking dammit—we work together, and we basically grew up together. We know each other too well for two stars who aren’t friends.
“You’re thinking about hate-to-love tropes, aren’t you?”
I try to pull my wrist from his hand. It won’t budge. “Definitely the hate part.” But I’m staring and his hand is warm, and it’s just the right kind of tight. Maybe we could fuck? It’s not like I haven’t thought about it over the hundreds of years we’ve been forced to collaborate. Or masturbated to the thought of it.
Hate sex is him doing me a favor and me doing him a favor.
I’m breathing hard. Why am I breathing hard? Why is this happening now? I bet it was that late-night taco binge. I knew I should have gone for the gluten-free shells.
Someone walks right into us, and I know they’re not human when Zhang—the real-life mountain—takes a step back. He pulls me behind him protectively.
It’s … another real-life mountain also with long red hair and in a long jacket, a blue one, with silver buttons. With him is a smaller man with hair black as night and a brow that resembles murderous hawk wings.
“Ah, sorry. Didn’t see yah there, mate,” the red-haired man says. “Name’s Charlie. You must be here to see Mock too.”
He extends his hand for Zhang. Zhang doesn’t offer his back. He doesn’t say a word. I step forward, to the tune of Zhang’s displeased grunt. “You didn’t see him there? The man is an ogre, how do you not see something like that?”
Charlie grabs the other man’s hand and smiles down at him. “When you’re too busy staring at your husband’s arse that’s when. But can yah blame me?”
I can’t tell if his accent is English or Scottish.
“Sorry about my ogre,” the other man says. “I’m Jude.”
He extends his hand for me, but overprotective Zhang yanks me backward by the waist of my leather pants, pulling me out of reach. “Sorry about him he’s—”
“No need to apologize,” Jude says in his softer but definitely English accent. “I know what it’s like to have a possessive husband.” He winks.
“Husband? Ew, no. He’s not my—”
“Dammit, Wells,” Jude says. He shakes his head. “Sorry, um …”
“It’s Treyu,” I say from my Zhang prison. “This is Centaurus.” If he doesn’t want to talk, he can be Centaurus. “We work together.”
“Ah, right,” he says as if he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “Sorry, Treyu. My, er, friend is waving me down from the window. I’d better get inside. Do you have an appointment with Mock as well?”
Yes, I do. Why are they here? And this “Wells” fellow? I hope this isn’t going to be like a freaking healer’s office. Just who does this Mock person think she is?
“Um, yeah. Do I have the wrong time?” I wonder out loud.
“Dammit, Wells,” he says again. “No, I doubt you have the wrong time and I’m sure my friend has bamboozled us into thinking Mock ‘gave us a last-minute appointment.” He exhales an annoyed sigh. “I’d better get in there before he sends something out the window that will get us all in trouble. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you get in at the time of your appointment. Well unless … no, you’re fine. He shouldn’t show up till next month sometime.”
Well that’s not worrisome at all. “Unless what?”
“Tristan,” Jude says.
“Tristan. What about Tristan?” I’ve heard about him. I know he’s one of Mock’s.
“Just pray that he doesn’t decide he wants something today or we’ll all be out of luck.”
I scowl. “Who does this Tristan think he is?”
“He’s kinda like her firstborn, even though that’s not accurate at all. She does whatever he wants.”
He seems fine with that. I would not be fine with that. “And you don’t want to pummel this guy?”
Jude leans in. “Even Charlie can’t ‘pummel’ that guy.” There’s sudden shouting from above. “Fuck. C’mon, Char. We’ll see you up there, Trey.”
“See yah up there, mates,” Charlie says in a super gruff and sexy voice.
Now him, I’d have no problems getting tossed over his knee. I watch his massive form move toward the door and open it for his husband once they’re buzzed in.
Zhang’s hand is around my wrist again. “You’re not going up there.”
“Oh yes, I am.”
“This place is crazy. Complete chaos.”
“I will throw you over my shoulder, Orion, and drag you away from here.”
Fuck. Can’t breathe. Hot. Hot. Hot. Why is that so fucking hot? I’m inclined to push him into throwing me over his shoulder.
No. I need to think about slimy slugs and overcooked mushrooms. But also, he will do that. “Don’t you dare. I’ll have you written up.”
He rolls his eyes. He knows it’s an empty threat. You can’t really write up a prince of the Pleiades. Well, you can, but it needs to be an actual crime, substantiated with proof and even then, they’re likely to let it go with a slap on the wrist.
“Stow your counting.” I huff and cross my arms. “I need to do this, Zhang. What if I let you come with me?”
“There’s no ‘let’ about it. That’s the only way you’re going up there. You’re totally defenseless. Those men have magic, and I don’t even want to know what this Tristan guy has.”
I’m not totally defenseless. Fallen stars still hold more power than humans. Hopefully, he’s just a pompous human. “They said he wasn’t coming.”
“They said he could drop in at will. He could be here already for all they know.”
“Then fine. Please come up and protect me,” I say with false dynamism.
He doesn’t say anything for a solid two minutes and just when I think this is over—for now, I still have some pull seeing as my father is head of the Guardians—he nods. “Let’s go. If I see anything I don’t like, we’re out.”
Before he can change his mind, I head to the buzzer and ring.
“House of Mock, who may I ask is calling?” It’s a man’s voice—a soft but sure man’s voice.
“It’s Treyu Orion and uh, his companion.” I would say mortal frenemy, but if he doesn’t get in, he’ll prevent me from going up.
“Oh! You’re actually in Mock’s iPad for an appointment today.”
Actually in the iPad…? There’s a buzz and I jump for the door, wanting to get up there before Zhang can kibosh this whole thing. He remains close behind as I book it up the stairs to the eleventh floor.
The door to the condo is open a crack and inside is absolute fucking chaos. I don’t bother knocking. To my right is what could be considered a receptionist’s desk. Behind it is a thin man on an iPad. By all appearances, one might think he’s the receptionist, but something tells me he’s not.
It’s a large space. To the left is a living room-type set up with couches, a coffee table, a TV, and directly in front is a closed door with MOCK written in large font. There’s a hallway leading to other rooms. The whole place is surrounded by glass windows and looks out to Spanish Banks. The ocean—the actual ocean—laps at the shoreline in the background.
Wow, this is some nice digs.
Jude is off by a window, arguing with a man with blond hair—that’s got to be Wells. I guess it could be another blond-haired man, but in that high-class suit, he looks like a man named Wells.
Two men greet us. One with an undercut and floppy dirty blond hair on top. The other has light-brown feathery hair. He’s much smaller, but this suspicious scowl is mighty. They’re each holding a clipboard.
“Grayson,” the one man says. “Be nice.”
“I haven’t said anything yet.”
“I know what you’re thinking.” He turns to us. “Welcome fellas. This is Mock’s place. We’ve begun a greeting committee. Um, but before we get you acquainted, you didn’t happen to see a tall man down there did you? Messy dark hair. Uncanny resemblance to Henry Cavil?”
“Uh, no,” I say.
“I told you, Finn. They have no idea we’re here. Quit worrying. But was there maybe a large man down there, super hot, in holey blue jeans and maybe a cowboy hat? Oh! And he’s from one of Mock’s worlds so I’d better mention that he has wavy blond hair to his shoulders.”
At least this Mock has good taste in hair. Good hair is a must. I flick my eyes to Zhang. “No one else but us was down there when we left.”
“Not worried, eh, Grayson?” Finn says. “Anyway, we’re gonna need some details about you. Your name?”
“Treyu,” he repeats. “Screams brat,” he adds as he writes on his clipboard.
“Hey! Are you writing that down?”
Instead of looking at me, he looks Grayson. Grayson nods. “Hell yeah. Don’t deny it, Orion,” Grayson says to me. “Things will go a lot easier for you if you just admit to it.”
“I’d never deny I was a brat,” I state proudly. “I’d prefer to know just where that information is going.”
Uneasiness pours off Zhang. He yanks me to him by the back of my pants again. That’s going to happen a lot, isn’t it?
“What’s the ogre’s name?”
I laugh. So far, they seem to speak my language here. “Zhang Centaurus.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dreamy,” Finn says.
A bolt of jealousy washes through me. I step back so I’m closer to my not-boyfriend.
Finn laughs. “Don’t worry. I can see he’s your Top. We’re just real open around here. You’ll see. Wait until you meet Tris.”
“Tris?” Tristan. “Is he coming?”
They both shrug. “Don’t know.”
“And you can change the information on your little sheet there. He’s a Top, but he’s not my Top.”
“Yeah. Sure, pal,” Finn says. “If not now, give it time.”
Charlie appears out of nowhere and takes each of them by the scruff of the neck. “What are you two up to over here?” he says in his deep accent.
Both men pale. “Nothing bad, sir. We’re the greeters,” Finn says and it’s clear that he wishes he was anywhere else right now.
“Yeah. We’re keeping things organized for Mock,” Grayson says.
Charlie releases them from his grip. “There are too many brats around here. Where are all the Tops?”
“Wish we cou