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Elf Against the Wall
-- EXCERPT: There was a man—a huge man!—in my father’s study, all in heavy black motorcycle gear, a helmet hiding his face. Snowball had her needle-sharp teeth latched onto the robber’s pant leg, and he was batting at her roughly, trying to knock her off. “Don’t you hurt my dog!” I screamed, picking up a priceless wood statue my parents had brought back from their anniversary trip to Japan and racing after the attacker. He grunted in surprise but raised his arm too late to block the statue from crashing into his motorcycle helmet, shattering the tinted visor. Eyes like a raging winter storm glared back at me through the broken glass. I hefted the statue again, and it connected with one of his massive arms. The hit didn’t even knock him off-balance. “Oh shit,” I whimpered as he took a step toward me. The huge arm came up, knocking the statue out of my hands to split on the floor. I spun to escape but tripped on the corner of the rug and crashed to the floor, yelling unintelligibly as he pounced on me, pinning me on my back. His huge gloved hand covered my mouth and nose so I couldn’t scream. I could barely breathe. “Shut up,” the deep voice ordered, slightly muffled by the broken motorcycle helmet. I struggled under the massive male body that had me trapped on the floor, clawing ineffectively at him. “What the hell?” he growled. “Fuck, I need to do something with you.” Was he going to hurt me? Or take me with him to be--Gulp—disposed of somewhere else? Don’t let yourself be taken to a second location! But I couldn’t budge all the muscle and sinew holding me down. “Motherfuck—” he roared, snatching his gloved hand back from my mouth as Snowball bit him, her sharp teeth sinking through the gloves into his thumb. Sucking in shuddering breaths, I pummeled the man’s helmet as he shook his hand, Snowball not letting go as he flapped her around. Scraping my nails on his neck, I managed to drag his helmet off his head and hoisted it, banging it on his face and shoulders as he cursed, finally shaking the dog and the glove free. His tattooed hand made a fist and punched the helmet out of my grasp. His knee pinned my hip to the floor. As he raised himself slightly, his face was lit up by passing headlights. “Oh my god,” I whimpered, eyes bugging out of my head as I took in his chiseled face, strong jaw, black hair, wintery gray eyes, and scars on his cheek and across one eye. “You’re the… the… the…” “The… the… the…” he mocked as he catalogued my dawning recognition. 
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