This is the official excerpt from Caught in the Devil’s Hand (Feb. 2007).

Breaking into a run, she whimpered as she shot down the path, kicking up dirt as she went. The air sawed in and out of her lungs, and she almost cried with relief as the clearing came up again. It meant that, at a run, she would be back home in five minutes. The clearing was large, as if a great house might have stood there ages ago. It was now covered with thick, fragrant grass, a sea of green broken only by a thin dirt path. She and Oka often played tag here. On summer days when the grass was very tall, they would play hide-and-seek.

Breaking away from the tree line, she didn’t let up speed as she entered the clearing. Her eyes stayed on the dark hole from which she had run earlier. She didn’t want to look behind her or to the sides, afraid that another set of eyes glowing red with evil malice would be staring back at her.

But it was too late.

A movement from out of that dark hole drove fear into the base of her spine, and a gasp of fright doubled as a gasp of air as her lungs burned with effort. The world slowed down as her feet stopped moving. Her body’s momentum carried her only a couple more feet, leaving her in the middle of the clearing. The first thing her brain could process was the enormous black horse, gleaming with sweat in the moonlight. Her heartbeat sounded slow in her ears, but she knew that it had never pounded as fast or as hard as it did now. The basket fell from her fingers, landing in the grass next to her.

Her eyes involuntarily looked at the rider and before her was the most handsome man that she had ever laid eyes upon. She literally felt something inside of her twist the second she looked at his face. He seemed strong, warrior-like, but he wasn’t as burly as the field workers. His jaw was sharp and well-defined and his smooth, pale skin seemed to glow, though Shumei knew that it must have been a trick of the moonlight.

His hair was a shocking, bright white. As white as her hair was black, it was cut just above his shoulders, flying free in the slight breeze and seeming silkier and softer than her ill-used locks. It was too dark to see his eyes at all, a very scary image, but she knew in her gut that his eyes would be gray to match his pale, pale hair. The clean line of his brow ridge, currently set at a determined and serious angle, sat above the dark pockets where his eyes were hiding. His mouth, gifted with wide, thin lips, was expressionless beneath his slightly hawkish nose.

The world slammed back into place as the horse belted out its harsh scream. It and its rider came sprinting at her, and the only thing that made her react was the thought of Oka dying. Bending her knees and grasping for the handle of the basket, she shot to the side, hoping to run into an area too thick with trees for a horse to enter. It was all for naught though. She saw the horse come up on her left side as something slammed into her back, sending her to the ground. The basket tumbled forward, and only the wooden lid kept the herbs from spilling out helter-skelter.

The air in her lungs, what there was of it, was knocked out of her body as she landed. Even worse was the heavy weight on her back, which made it very difficult to take in new air. The weight lifted quickly, and she was roughly tossed onto her back before the weight returned to pin her once again.

“Ahh, one so young as you has not crossed my path in many years,” the demon said slowly, his voice deep and silky. She had never before heard such a wonderful, calming voice and it scared her most of all. She sucked in breaths of air, extremely winded from her sprint and her fall.

“Wh-what are you going to do to me?” she asked, too frightened to say it with any more bravado than that of a shaky lilt. The demon’s exquisite features filled her eyes, and she gasped as she realized that his eyes indeed were a very light color, but their exact shade would remain a mystery under the pale moonlight. He gave her a lopsided smile.

She was finally able to lift her arms, having caught her breath somewhat, and vainly tried to push him off her. However, he was too heavy and determined for her to escape his weight. His body lay mostly on her right side, one leg between hers and one hand pressed to the ground next to her head.

“So frightened,” he purred, sending chills down her limbs. “There is no need to be frightened, little girl. I will give you a present,” he softly announced, lifting his hand and stroking her cheek. Her heart beat wildly and she recognized that she was thrilled rather than frightened, but she wasn’t stupid enough to think that her life wasn’t in danger. No doubt this devastatingly handsome creature was nothing but a demon. Even so, she had the uncanny urge to nuzzle his palm. Instead she simply closed her eyes at his soft touch and tightened her grip on his shoulders.

What was happening to her?

“I don’t want a present. I just want to continue on my way,” she pleaded as she opened her eyes again, trying to ignore the part of her that was begging to stay right where she was. Handsome or not, he was not human, a fact that she had to continuously repeat inside her head. No human could be that gorgeous.

His spicy scent teased her nostrils, wafting up subtly from his skin, and she felt a strange need to lean into him and inhale. It was somehow familiar, like seeing a childhood friend years after she had moved away—not that she had had any childhood friends.

She somehow wanted to believe him when he said she had no reason to fear him, but the practical side of her mind screamed at her not to give in to his good looks and calming voice. She felt panic fluttering in her chest as two sides of her mind warred against each other. One side wanted him to continue speaking to her with that sublime voice and the other wanted to fight him and run away.

“All women would want this present, little girl.” He leaned closer to her, bringing his face nearer to hers.

“I…I must return home. My brother’s life is at stake,” she whispered, seeing how close he was to her. He didn’t answer for a few seconds, but then he finally said, “I am not without compassion, so I shall make a trade with you. For being in the right place at the right time, I promise to leave you here once we are finished. Consider that to be my consolation.”

“F-finished with what?” she tremulously asked, though some inner part of her had an inkling of what he referred to.

“I shall give you pleasure, little girl, and it shall feed me. I will take you as men have taken women for the span of human history and you shall cry out in ecstasy this night.”