About Violet: Thunder
by Kate Cotoner
64 pages / 30100 words
ISBN: 978-1-60370-960-6
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc, epub, and Sony Reader pdf
Wu Jin has both brains and beauty. Though poor, his family are noble enough for Jin to sit the imperial examinations in the hope of obtaining a high-ranking government position at the court of Tang Dynasty China. When his parents are killed, Jin clings to his dreams, and travels to the provincial capital for the exams. Pursued by a sinister horseman into the forest, Jin seeks refuge at a tumbledown inn, little realizing that he's entered the abode of a fox-spirit.
Tian Zhen is a transcendental fox of immense power and considerable
seductive charm. He's startled when Jin sees through his illusions, and
believes it's Jin's destiny not only to become his lover, but also to help
him find a lost talisman, the symbol of Zhen's heavenly role as the Guardian
of Thunder. But convincing Jin won't be easy, and the search for the
talisman turns dangerous when Jin discovers it's connected to the man who
murdered his parents...
Sample
Zhen brushed his thumb across Jin's mouth. "Did you know you pout whenever you're deep in thought?"
Jin froze, his heart pounding. Zhen's touch burned him, rousing desire. He stared at Zhen, helpless to deny his feelings any longer. The whole day had been a long, slow seduction of the mind, and now he wanted to give in to it, to surrender his body to this clever, powerful man who seemed to know him better than he knew himself.
"Tian Zhen..." he began, turning toward him.
Zhen moved back, a pleased smile curving his lips. "Calligraphy next, I think."
"What?" Pulled out of the thrall of lust, Jin blinked. Rejection bit hard, and he reached for his wine, determined not to betray further how close he'd come to making a fool of himself.
Blank sheets of paper were set in front of him, and Zhen invited him to choose inks and brushes. He pulled an ink-stone from beneath a pile of scrolls and tipped some of his wine onto the palette so Jin could grind the ink into it. When the consistency felt right, Jin selected a wide, soft brush, dipped it into the ink, and held it paused over the virgin white of the paper. He wrote quickly in basic Running Style: The gods of Thunder and Lightning shatter the whole mountain range.
"Li Bai," Zhen said, recognizing the poet. He gave Jin a sidelong look. "You have thunder on your mind?"
"No. I..." Jin fell silent, uncertain. "Why do you ask?"
Zhen shrugged. "Only that the hexagrams you were reading earlier were all ruled by thunder. Also..."
"It's your personal name." Jin stared at the characters still glistening on the paper and felt out of his depth. He had no idea how to behave in a flirtation. A more experienced man would no doubt have composed a poem of great subtlety to his host's looks and bearing. A more experienced man wouldn't be wasting time discussing Confucian classics. No, he'd have made his feelings clear long ago. Jin drooped, cursing his shyness.
Zhen seemed oblivious as he leaned over and studied Jin’s calligraphy. "Your hand is adequate, but lacks the true style admired by men of the capital. If you want to pass the exams, you must try harder. Let me help you."
Jin sat motionless as Zhen knelt behind him, with his wide sleeve draped across Jin's arm. Closing his eyes, Jin inhaled the scent of musk and cloves from Zhen's robes. He felt the coiled strength of Zhen's body behind him, felt the tickle of Zhen’s beard against his ear as he listened to the murmured instructions on how to hold the brush. Zhen placed his hand over Jin's, guiding him in the formation of a new line of poetry: Beyond the pool of water lilies, the sound of faint thunder.
The characters looked melancholy upon the page, the ink fading at each flick of the brush to echo the meaning of the poetry. Jin didn't recognize the phrase. He wasn't conscious of anything but the touch of Zhen’s fingers and the strength of the body behind him. Zhen's heat warmed him, soothed him; the illusion of safety drew him nearer. Jin tipped back his head, resting it against Zhen's shoulder. The brush dropped from his hand and rolled across the table, trailing splashes of ink. He felt drowsy and realized night had fallen. Candles glimmered around the room; an evening meal and fresh wine awaited them. The day had passed so quickly without him even noticing it.
"Wu Jin?"
Jin looked up, startled from his thoughts. "Yes?"
He'd forgotten his position, held within the circle of Zhen's arms. He twisted sideways, trying to put space between them, but tangled himself in his borrowed robes and fell against his host. Now they were too close, a mere whisper separating them. Jin dropped his gaze to Zhen's mouth. He stared, barely able to breathe. Warmth spread through his veins and his head felt heavy. Time seemed to slow until he was aware only of the beat of his heart, the tremble of his breath. He wanted Zhen to kiss him. Dizziness swam across his vision. His eyes closed.
"Jin." Zhen cupped the side of his face and drew him nearer. "Is this what you want?"
Jin nodded. When he opened his eyes, he saw Zhen gazing at him, his expression intent, almost savage. "Yes," he whispered. "I want this. I want you."
Zhen growled low in his throat. "If we do this, we cannot go back."
The words made no sense. Jin shook his head. "I don't care."