Jennifer Lyon

Interview with Sutton West

Jennifer Lyon

Author photo by Michele Cwiertny

I’ve been trying to interview Sutton for a while, but I can’t seem to catch him. Today I am determined, so I head to the club, but I’m told he’s in the warehouse. I slip into the warehouse and hear he’s at his cabin. So I go to the cabin, and learn he’s out on a run. This is getting old.

Sutton’s avoiding me on purpose, refusing to participate in the book I have in mind for him. I’m going to persuade him! As soon as I can actually catch him. I decide to wait, he’ll come back to his house eventually. He considers it his solace, his place of peace. His cabin is on a remote cliff overlooking the beach. He owns a large chunk of the surrounding land. Leaves, dirt and pine needs crunch under foot, large old trees sway in the breeze, and I wander over to a huge pile of fresh cut wood.

Taking a seat on the wood steps leading to the porch, I contemplate Sutton with his shift off, wielding the ax in his calloused hands…

“Still here? Guess you’re not going away this time.”

“Ack!” I yelled, slapping my hand over my chest to keep my heart from bursting out in a messy Alien-like explosion. “I didn’t hear you!” I look up.

Oh. My. God.

Wearing just shorts and running shoes, the man blocks the sun with his huge, glorious body! He’s six foot three, and his two hundred and twenty pounds have been pounded into perfection by his love of all things outdoors. With his shaved head and wood-chopping-bulked muscles, his silhouette is mouthwatering.

He wipes a big hand over the sweating forehead and strides right by me up the stairs and into the house. He calls back a casual, “Later.”

Gathering my wits, I jump up and run after him. “Hey! I need to talk to you!”

“Can’t. Need to shower.” Dismissing me, he walks through the living room turns left at the dining room and crosses a hallway into his master bedroom.

I trot behind him, noticing his hard thighs and mighty fine butt in his shorts. “It’ll just take a few minutes,” I huff out, sadly out of breath and getting a little short of temper. “Either cooperate with me or I’ll—“

Sutton stopped and whipped around, fixing his steel blue eyes on me. “You’ll what?”

Uh oh. I skidded to a halt. Suddenly, I can hear my blood roaring in my ears. The menace coming off him raises goosebumps on my arms. “Uh…”

He takes a step. “I’m getting close. So damned close to going rogue, I barely sleep. When I do close my eyes, I see blood. Her blood.

I know who he means, Dr. Carla Fisk, a witch and psychologist. I can almost feel the internal battle Sutton is waging with the curse that make him crave witch blood. Worse, Sutton touched Carla’s blood while rescuing her from rogues. Quickly, I blurt out, “If you and Carla are soul mirrors, it’ll break the curse for both of you!” If. I’m not actually sure they are soul mirrors. I can’t be sure until I write the book! And Sutton seems to sense my uncertainty and refuses to show up in any of the scenes to begin the story that I’ve suggested so far.

“If?” He says in a soft voice threaded with fury. He takes another step toward me. “You’re willing to risk her life and my soul on if?”

His powerful male scent and pheromones flow through me, making me hot and shivery. Danger and sex are a potent aphrodisiac. But I try to ignore my reaction and state my case; “I’ll make it work!” Probably.

“No.” He turns and goes into the bathroom.

I stare at his huge, retreating shoulders that frame the eagle tattoo on his back. I really want to smack the sexy, dangerous and stubborn man! But I’d probably sprain my hand and then it’d be hard to type. I hear the water turn on in his multi-jet shower. Furious, I storm into the bathroom. “You have to trust me, Carla needs…”

He turns around, giving me a view of his chest that narrows down to his ripped abs that disappear in the elastic waist band of his shorts.

What was I saying?

Sutton snaps, “No. Carla’s not safe around me.”

Oh right! I force my gaze up to his face, and catch the gold earring in his left ear winking at me. I open my mouth but he’s moving again.

He peels off the shorts, drops them, then he turns and disappears into the oversized shower.

My mouth falls open. I knew Sutton was hot when I created him, but…damn! Then I frown, realizing that Sutton hasn’t come on to me.

Not once.

Witch hunters use sex to control their blood lust. Normally, hunters have huge sex drives and they love women. All women. Even me. No matter how pissed they are at me (and they are ticked off at me a lot!), they still try to seduce me.

Sutton hasn’t tried. This is bad, very bad news. Losing interest in sex? That means I can’t wait around for Sutton to listen to reason. I have to get him into the book and now! It’s my only hope of saving him from going rogue.

I have an idea. Desperate times call for desperate measures. No man can possibly get close enough to Sutton to trick him into a scene for the book…

But a woman…

Yeah. I have an idea…and maybe a little payback for a certain, too-stubborn-for-words witch hunter. I start to laugh as I let myself out of the cabin and race home to my computer.