Deadlier Than The Male - editing exercise 8
I've dropped into one of my favourite parts of the story and you can possibly see I enjoy this by how much I've changed it, especially the dialogue.
Tenses have also been changed - from present to past - which makes it easier to follow the story, I think.
I hope you think I've improved the piece as much as I do.
These are the covers of my three Wolf Series novels
If you're following the story or how I go through the process of editing, here are the first few posts.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
The photos are all my own and some may be a little off-topic and random, so bear that in mind (and read the descriptions).
Cont...
She did not beg or negotiate to be allowed to go, nor did she struggle. She was in mortal danger, she had to realise that?
Arms by her sides, car keys in one pocket, gloves removed and placed in the other pocket; her bag at her feet, where she had allowed it to drop, she had not dropped it in panic, she exuded a calm that uneased him. She was not as small as he had first thought. Although she was slim, she was not weak; she had toned muscles he could feel even through the coat.
Her manner - the new confidence bordering on arrogance - began to irritate him. She should be damned-well scared by now, at least screaming her head off, even pissing her pants.
It was not as much fun as it had been the night before, or the previous times. She spoiled his enjoyment!
"Fuck this," he growled. "You need a fright to get you going!"
With that, he let go of her coat and stood upright, away from her and the wall that he trapped her against. He half-hoped she would try to make an attempt at escape once he let her go.
At six feet, two inches, his physique was impressive, sleek and toned, even covered by his silk shirt. Her eyes locked on his as his entire face began to alter. The skin and muscles were independent of the bone structure beneath yet followed the same path. His features rippled as his skin began to change texture.
He knew what he looked like, he'd spent time practicing his performance - just like a wanna-be pop star does.
Though rather than dancing around the bedroom with the obligatory make-believe microphone, he had instead watched his own transformation. He had studied the process, watching his own face in the mirror countless times until he perfected the elaborate and terrifying metamorphosis. He had worked hard for each of his victims’ benefit, making their ordeal as shocking as possible – after all, it would be their last experience.
His forehead changed and flattened - as did the slope of his cranium - the hairline moved forward, to swamp his forehead.
A faint sound of sinews stretching and joints popping provided background noise. His mouth began to protrude from his face, bringing the nose with it and elongating his jaw. He groaned and tightened his jaw muscles as tooth clacked on tooth.
Teeth moved to fill the new jaw, becoming longer and pointed – a visible and lethal sharpness and his lips drew back from them. His hairline continued forward - like water burbling over shale - down his face, changing texture as it enveloped skin.
Hair and fur passed over his jaw line and down his throat on into the open collar of his shirt. His eyes turned from dark brown to preternatural yellow as the hair sprouted along his lengthened nose. Then as the transformation of his face finished, his tongue, glistening with saliva, touched the tip of one front fang in a final and theatrical gesture.
The face of the full moon watched over the horrifying tableau and still the woman’s gaze never faltered.
He stood still and quiet for a moment and then, pride and arrogance gleaming in his eyes, he continued to set the scene for her. He lifted one hand toward her in invitation – to join him or to listen, she didn’t quite know.
"I need no introduction,” he said. “You can see exactly what I am. I belong with the dark terrors that reside in the back of your mind. I am the embodiment of what you humans hope does not exist. You try to convince yourselves monsters cannot be so, yet you also fear the monsters are real.” He lowered his hand as though realising she would never accept his invitation.
He cocked an eyebrow and waited a moment for her to speak.
She remained silent, watching the show.
“I am a Werewolf! My kind have inhabited your stories and nightmares for centuries. You delight in the telling and re-telling of stories which scare you to death and what happens when you encounter such a being? Do you revel in the experience? No, you scream and plead and beg for it not to be so. Well, I fulfil my part of the bargain; I want you to honour your part. All you need to do is make a break for it; your flesh will taste so much better if you pump adrenalin into it." His voice sounded deeper than it had.
She waited until he finished his speech. "Oh, you're a werewolf are you?" Sarcasm dripped from every syllable. “Is this how you scared the woman last night?” She wafted one hand in his direction, as though asking for a better explanation. “Not satisfied that she would be terrified out of her wits because you attacked her, you needed that extra edge to make her really scared… but why? How does that serve you? I don’t believe it’s just the adrenalin taste that does it for you, there has to be more.”
She placed her hand on her chin and studied him. “Are you perhaps worried that you don’t measure up as a werewolf?”
Before Edit
Cont...
She was not begging or negotiating to be allowed to go, nor was she struggling, and yet she was in mortal danger, she had to realise that? Her arms were by her sides, the car keys in one pocket. Her gloves had been removed and were now in the other pocket. Her bag lay at her feet, but she had allowed it to drop there, she had not dropped it in panic.
She was not as small as he had first thought; she must have been over five and a half feet tall. Although she was slim, she was not weak; she had good musculature – toned muscles that he could feel even through the coat.
Her manner - the new confidence bordering on arrogance - was beginning to irritate him; she should be damned-well scared by now, at least screaming her head off, even pissing her pants.
This was not as much fun as it had been last night, or the previous times. She was spoiling his enjoyment!
"Fuck this," he growled, "you need a fright to get you going!"
With that, he let go of her coat and stood upright, away from her and the wall that he had been trapping her against.
He half hoped she would try to make an attempt at escape now that he had let her go.
His full height of six feet, two inches was impressive, as was his body which was sleek and toned under his silk shirt.
Her eyes were locked on his as his entire face began to alter. The skin and muscles were independent of the bone structure beneath yet were following the same path. His features rippled as his skin then began to change its texture.
He knew what he looked like, he'd spent time practicing this - just like a wanna-be pop star does.
Though rather than dancing around the bedroom with the obligatory make-believe microphone, he had instead watched his own transformation. He had studied this process, studying his own face in the mirror countless times until he had perfected this elaborate and terrifying metamorphosis. He had worked hard for each of his victim’s benefit, making their ordeal as shocking as possible – after all, it would be their last experience.
His forehead changed and flattened - as did the slope of his cranium - the hairline moving forward. At the same instant, his mouth began to protrude from his face, bringing the nose with it and elongating his jaw. The teeth moved by themselves to fill the new jaw, they became longer and pointed – a visible and lethal sharpness as his lips drew back from them. His hairline was continuing forward - like water burbling over shale - down his face, changing texture as it enveloped skin. It passed over his jaw line and down his throat on into the open collar of his shirt. His eyes turned from dark brown to preternatural yellow as the hair sprouted along his lengthened nose. Then as the transformation of his face had finished, his tongue, glistening with saliva, touched the tip of one front fang in a final and theatrical gesture.
The face of the full moon watched over this horrifying tableau and still the woman’s gaze never faltered.
He stood still and quiet for a moment and then, pride and arrogance gleaming in his eyes, continued to set the scene for her.
"I need no introduction; you can see exactly what I am. I belong with the dark terrors that reside in the back of your mind. I am the embodiment of what you humans hope does not exist and try to convince yourselves so, yet still fear is real. I am a Werewolf! My kind have inhabited your stories and nightmares for centuries, you delight in the telling and re-telling of stories which scare you to death and what happens when you encounter such a being? Do you revel in the experience? No, you scream and plead and beg for it not to be so. Well, I fulfil my part of the bargain; I want you to honour your part. All you need to do is make a break for it; your flesh will taste so much better if you pump adrenalin into it." His voice sounded deeper because of his distorted vocal chords.
She waited until he had finished his speech and then said: "Oh, you're a werewolf are you?" Sarcasm dripped from every syllable. “Is this how you scared the woman last night? You weren’t satisfied that she was probably terrified out of her wits because you were attacking her in the first place? You needed that extra edge to make her really scared… but why? What purpose does that serve you? I don’t believe that it’s just the adrenalin taste that does it for you, there has to be more.”
Ooh Hazel, you beauty!