Fallen Angel Reviews welcomes Carys Weldon author of the ultra sensuous Wanton Werewolf series as well as the Dark Lord series. Hello, Carys. Thank you for being here.

Thank you so much for having me.

The first question I have to ask is when is book two of your Wanton Werewolf Series coming out?

Chaos, which is actually the prequel to Leader of the Pack will be out real soon, but I'm sorry, I don't have a date on that, yet. We've approved the cover, and I know it's been through final edits, so...any time!

Can we have a sneak peek? Please, please. *grin*

Sure.


CHAOS
By Carys Weldon

INTRODUCTION
(BY CHAOS)

I believe sanity is a matter of perspective, but really…if you'd just see things my way, we'd be fine.

(I really do think I've got it all figured out.)

But…yeah, if you want to know the truth, I hear voices in my head. That doesn't prove jack.

Who's to say I'm crazy? Okay, maybe I am. Crazy for power. Crazy for tail. I can't get enough of either, but I'm hot-blooded, and making no excuses for it.

I'm a player. I've got an image to keep up.

It's all a game, though. My move. Your move. Higher stakes. Bigger challenges. But now I'm alpha at Pack City, and I'm looking around. What else is there to live for?

You know what I'm really about? Adrenalin rushes, living on the edge, kicking ass, finding the apex of all there is. But I'm already over the top.

So…don't give me any of your pretty speeches. Life is too short for that.

And don't expect me to lie down and roll over, either. I'm nobody's bitch. I've got a temper, and the claws, teeth and rocks to back it up.

You probably heard…I've got bitches lining up for miles. They don't care if I'm a mess or if I've got it all together. They just wanna run with the big dog.

Did you hear me? They don't care.

I know what road I'm on. One way lonely street. I just need somebody to help me lick my wounds when the day is done, and help me make it through the night. Is that too much to ask?


CHAOS

(AS TOLD BY TEE)

CHAPTER ONE

The glare of gleaming glass empties blinded me the minute I opened my eyes, and I knew I'd done it again. Gone home with some guy I met at a bar. Squeezing my lids shut-because my eyes hurt like hell, even in the dim lighting of the apartment I was in-I had to ask myself, how many more times you gonna do this before some joker kills you, Tee?

Call me self-destructive. Call me stupid.

It's not like I haven't called myself those names…a hundred times over.

Spying sideways at my latest bed partner, I wondered, if I racked my brain, would I be able to remember his name? Propping myself up on one elbow, I looked him over. Well, what I could see of him. Damn hot. That's the first thing I thought. Rippled muscle back, tight ass. Yeah, he was out of the covers, belly down, passed out, his face away from me-of course.

Thank Gaia. I didn't really wanna face him until I figured out who the hell he was. Even from that side, he looked familiar, though. I grinned to myself. Probably watched his ass for hours before I decided to hook up. I tend to do that. You know, meditate real hard on whether I want to live dangerously again or not.

I could tell by the scars that he was garou, even though he was in full human form. My kind of man. I sighed.

My fingers itched to trace his battle wounds. He had a few fresh marks that intrigued me. My head was thumping, and I couldn't remember anything from the night before-which sometimes happens to me when things get out of hand. So, I had to wonder-what up? Did he do something to impress me?

Tipping my head, I noted…he really was something to look at, and I was only looking at his backside. Must've been damn cute up front. Wiry-ass sumbitch. All muscle, leashed power, even when he's sleeping. You know that's a turn-on. Nothing loose.

Well, maybe-but he was probably laying on that.

That had me curious. Who the hell had I hooked up with?

I may be pretty self-destructive, but that don't mean I got bad taste. If I'm gonna die bad, I'm gonna die with a smile on my face. Ya know?

Sniffing, I untangled myself from the sheets, crawled from the pallet styled sleeping arrangement and looked around. The smell of stale booze and sex hung in the air. I rubbed my eyes, tried for a clearer view of things. Man, my head was hazy. I don't usually get hangovers. Strong constitution, you could say. So, this was really bugging me.

Most of the windows in the warehouse studio apartment were blacked out (thank Gaia)-at least on the side by the bed. I could see light coming in at the far end, though. Careening my neck to peer down there, I sensed a little movement, life, people sleeping.

That had me moving a little quicker. I mean, I was standing there stark naked.

Where the hell were my clothes? Geez. I couldn't see them anywhere. Couldn't remember shit, either. I had to feel up my nose, see if maybe I'd tried some blow or something. Not usually into that sort of thing. Like to keep my wits, if ya know what I mean. But every now and then, I get talked into stupid shit. I call them suicide days. I'd been having a lot more of them lately. So, who knows what I'd done in the name of love and the pursuit of happiness?

You know…a guy too cute, with too smooth a line, seems like the thing to do, promises to take good care of me. I'm done with that, though. I'm going for one last, true love-or freaking killing myself. I made my mind up on that while I padded around, barefoot, looking for the bathroom. (And some damn aspirin.)

The whole place was open. A Grand Canyon apartment or something. Big square pillars blocking up the ceiling. I'm not kidding. It was the size of all outdoors, and a freaking shoelace factory to boot. Gaia-damn. A girl could get lost in there. Fucking Montana, with skylights and everything.

It was kind of cool, though. Stark. Lots of running room. Nothing really to see. Certainly nothing personal to speak of. A lot of high end stereo equipment and trendy furniture. Not a lot of breakables, or stealables, that was for damn sure.

I glanced toward the bed. Obviously, I'd gone home with a player.

That had me looking around a lot squintier. Ya know? Was I in a drug den? Or an arms magazine? What was this guy's deal? I was almost afraid to touch anything until I found out.

Sure enough, venturing a little further down the wide expanse of flooring, I spotted some homey's on the far end, passed out. His own troop of groupies. Shit. I backed up, looked for my damned clothes a little harder. When they weren't readily evident, I settled for playa's jersey. Yeah, I sniffed it. Smelled like him. Nice and spicy. Sex appeal all under.

In fact, my eyes rolled up into my head with the 'oh my Gaia' scent. No wonder I'd gone home with him. Tip-toeing toward the bed, I lifted my nose to the air, did a few quick inhales. Oh hell yeah. Freaking wolfy pheromones. Damn chick magnet shit. You can't buy it. You can't bottle it. I should've freaking turned tail and ran the minute I got wind of it.

There is no way in hell a guy with a scent like that is gonna be anything but a playa. Too many ladies falling at his feet. That thought made me disgusted with myself.

Just line up like all the other cheap bitches, Tee. Yeah, I talk to myself all the time. Pretty much hate it, too. But whatcha gonna do? Nobody else is being honest with me.

So, I finally found a bathroom. Wouldn't you know it? Right close to the bed. Sliding mirrored door. First thing I did was rummage for some aspirin. Yeah, I don't care that it was his personal space; my head was banging. Found some. Took eight. Scooped water in my hand until I got them down.

Then, I washed up quickly, and quietly, ran a finger over my teeth and mumbled, "Damn girl, you got some dog breath." That gave me the impetus to fish through the playa's bathroom cabinet some more, to find some toothpaste and do it right. At least he had some. I'd been to guy's apartments where there was no toothpaste to be had. Ick. Those were guaranteed 'no repeats.'

Usually, I have some in my purse, but if I couldn't find my clothes straight up, I figured that the search for my purse would take even longer. I usually stashed that under something-so homey types didn't have fun with it, go through my stuff. Not that I carried much when I went out on the town. But, you know. Gotta have some deodorant, perfume, some make-up. Basics.

So, I'm not entirely stupid. I always carry, and use, spermicide, contraceptives. Freaking not taking a chance on that. Even though, I pretty much know my own cycle. Too many accidents happen, ya know? A girl's gotta protect herself.

I know where the choice is, and since I choose not to abstain, I choose to be responsible up front…so I don't have to be responsible later. Or worse, go for an abortion.

I had a friend once…ah, never mind that. Suffice it to say, the abortion never got behind her. And I like kids, I guess, so don't get me wrong on that. I'm just not ready to have some of my own. I can't hardly take care of myself. That's why I want, so desperately, to find a guy worth having. One that's man enough to look out for me, keep me safe at night. Is that too much to ask?

One that isn't some kind of loser.

Rinsing, spitting, I looked in the mirror. Tired eyes stared back. That ain't gonna happen in your lifetime, Tee. Give up on the big dream. There ain't a man or wolf alive that can keep you safe from yourself.

I didn't want to look any more. I closed the lid on the toilet and sat down, put my head in my hands, and tried not to cry. That self-honesty rips me up. I rocked a little, the cold tiles making my toes curl.

It wasn't a girly bathroom, by any means. Black and white. No rugs. No frills. No pretties. No potpourri or air freshener.

So, I'm crying on the stool, quietly, trying to get my shit together for the day, and guess what? Mr. Holy Shit walks in on me.

Correction, sneaks the hell up on me. I didn't hear squat, and I've got the ears of a freaking big ass mother fucking werewolf bitch. Best damn ears in the whole Gaia-damned pack. How the hell he did that, I have no freaking idea. All I know is…the door popped open before I had any warning, and it surprised me so bad, I looked up fast, like I'd been caught at something.

And I had, ya know. Tee never lets 'em see her cry.

Yeah. Proverbial tough bitch. Only, I didn't look so tough then. I know that.

Worse than being caught, though, was realizing who the fuck I'd slept with. Son-of-a-bitching Chaos.

How does your family feel about you writing erotica?

I write romance. I'm all about love. How can they not be proud of that?

About your writing style: You write many different genres. Do you have a favorite?

Romance is my main focus, obviously, but I like anything fantastical--I suppose that's because I'm in my own little world(s) a lot of the time. I like suspense and tease, too. So, you'll find that my stuff often tends to lean toward the mystery sub-genre. I'm real big on werewolves, and vampires, but I love chick-lit, too. I'm sure you'll see elements of that sense of humor in everything I write.

Which (if any) of your books were the most difficult to write?

Hm. I guess I would have to say the first. I didn't know what the publisher would accept, or what readers wanted, so I was a little slow and somewhat guarded. I would love to encourage readers to email their favorite authors (me!) and let us know what you like and don't like, so we can write more of the good and less of the bad.

Have you always been interested in the paranormal?

Yep. I'm psychic, so that tends to put me off that deep end on a regular basis. ;)

Who do you think would win in a fight…Dracula or Wolfman?

~laugh~ I suppose that depends on whose version we're talking about. I would have to say Dracula, at the moment, but only because he's already dead and a wolfman runs on animalistic instinct, and would be likely to keep attacking, and end up a vampirous wolf. Now, there's an idea. Hm. If I write that, I'll be sure and put you in the dedication for making me think of it!

Thanks! *grin* Can you tell the readers what we can expect from your coming works?

More hot werewolf action? ~laugh~ Intrigue? I plan to suck readers into my little worlds, where they can't get enough tease and tickling...where they constantly wonder when their next fix will be released.

Is there a genre that you would like to tackle?

I'm working through them all, I think. I've written horrific stuff like vamps and werewolves, some contemporaries, some fairy tales. Just point me at one and I'll give it a shot.

What would we find on your bookshelf?

On my bookshelf? (Looking) I see (a signed copy of) Barb D'Amato's Killer.app, and all of Sue-Ellen Weldfonder, and Ruth Langan's stuff, a bunch of Bobbi Smith's (signed) books. A ton of higher consciousness things. Terry Goodkind. Uh, I gave Dan Brown away.

You write imperfect characters, true to life characters. Why do you choose to do that?

~laugh~Because none of us are perfect? To write a character that is so far-fetched that you can't believe them, is too much for me. I'd rather see regular people put into fantastical situations and come out winners--because I believe that true life is stranger than fiction. I'd rather see a larger girl find a great guy than hear that yet another skinny model type snagged a stag. Call me crazy.

What is the most unusual question that a reader has asked you?

When I could do a contest that she'd like. We went back and forth on what she would like--her answer was "Anything free." All my contests are free, no purchases required, so it was silly.

Do you have ‘mood’ music that helps you write?

Oh yeah, baby. I wrote Dark Lord to Type O Negative and Leader of the Pack to Nickelback. A different tune for every tone.

How long does it take you to finish a book from first sentence to last?

Depends on the length. Some of the shorter ones have only taken me two days. I crank up the music and ignore the world while I write like that, though.

What was your reaction when your first book sold?

Shock. Open mouth. And...a bouncing, reverberating, WHO DO I TELL?

Who is your favorite author?

That's a tough one. All my author friends will clamor, "Pick me!" I REALLY like Sue-Ellen Welfonder. She does great imagery. She doesn't shy away from sexual description. She teases. I like her a lot. I like Susan Wiggs and Kathryn Sutcliffe, too.

Is there a book that you wouldn’t be caught dead reading?

Another Dan Brown...? I'm sorry if you love the guy's stuff. In between the overblown descriptions, he does a good story. But, when he gave me the directions from the Paris Ritz to the Louvre, and the entire description of why the pyramid was stuck out front of said museum, I thought...geez, get to the story, make me care about something YOU wrote. You know, I'm all about emotion. If you're not feeling something, what's the point?

For new and aspiring authors…any words of wisdom?

Set goals. I've said this before in other interviews, but this is the key to success. Set reasonable goals. Decide to do something, anything, that will get you forward in your writing--every single month. Join writer's groups. I ignore half of what they tell you, but enjoy the networking.

Is there anything that you would like to add?

I hope that readers will check out my website, and sign up for my free newsletter. It's fun. And thank you for inviting me to do this interview.

Carys, it has been a pleasure chatting with you. Readers, for more about Carys Weldon visit her website: www.carysweldon.com. If you favor werewolves then Leader of the Pack: Book 1 of the Wanton Werewolf Series is a must read!!


Interviewed by: Jodi