V. L. Jones is a paranormal enthusiast and a horror writer. She grew up in a haunted house in Washington State, which fueled her passion for the supernatural and monsters. Verona now lives in Tucson, Arizona, which she uses as her home base to explore haunted sites with a history.
Verona enlisted in the Navy out of high school, and her first duty station was in the highlands of Scotland. Talk about hitting pay dirt. Scotland and England abound with urban legends and ghostly hauntings. Fascinated by the history of these places, she often writes about her spooky findings.
Her explorations fuel her imagination, and she writes horror stories with elements of urban legends, cryptids, and folklore blended in. Verona loves anything about cryptids such as Bigfoot, the Ozark Howler, the black dog, and the Mothman, to name a few. Verona also loves the paranormal and the supernatural worlds. As her schedule permits, you will find her plotting the next trip to a paranormal hotspot.
Verona is a proud member of the Horror Writers Association (HWA) and the Horror Authors Guild (HAG).
Check out Verona’s website right HERE
THE SCENT OF JASMINE
by
Verona Jones
The scent of Jasmine swept in with the night breeze, teasing him with memories of the woman he loved. He was much younger back then. Dillon loved to party, and he and his close friends lived in the darkness. They traveled from one social gathering to another, only to collapse in exhaustion when daylight arrived.
They slept until dawn gave way to twilight and began anew—another gathering at a new friend's house. Alcohol flowed freely, and so did the drugs. Such was his life, night after night, till the scent of Jasmine crashed into his world.
Tonight, when the gorgeous woman entered the room, he was dancing with a blonde in his arms. Every male eye focused on the alluring stride of the sultry redhead. The color of the purest Emeralds, clear green eyes scanned the ballroom, lighting upon one male after another, continually scanning the room.
A strapless, tight, blood-red gown revealed shoulder-length Auburn hair kissing alabaster shoulders. Dillon wished his hands were caressing the areas of her body touched by the folds of her dress. He had no clue who she was seeking, but he couldn't stop thinking.
Please pick me.
His heart stopped when their eyes met and locked, and she glided towards him. Dillon held his breath as the vision made her way around dancers, continuing her trek to him. A whiff of her unique perfume muddled his brain, confusing Dillon, and the world around him faded as she approached.
Her voice made him think of brandy, that taste of fire with the first sip, then becoming a warm burn as it traveled to his stomach.
"Would you like to dance?" she asked, pushing the blonde out of his arms and melting against his chest.
For his life, he forgot about the blonde. All of his senses converged on the voluptuous creature in his arms. Her fragrance wrapped around him, hinting at passionate, sultry summer evenings. His surroundings faded away until only he and the woman remained.
Time stood still, and he remembered nothing, only the curves pressed tightly against his, swaying to the music. Dillon forgot where he was until she moved away from him.
"Would you mind taking me home, my sweet boy?" Dillon felt her words sink into his skin and soar through his veins like warm butter.
He heard himself say, "Of course, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you walk alone in the dark?" She put her arm through his, and they weaved their way outside. "What's your name?" He asked as they walked hand in hand, stopping in front of a Brickstone house.
"I'm Amelia, and this is where I live. Can I interest you in a drink?" she had asked him.
The offer surprised Dillon, as she did not ask for his name in return. Then, her alluring scent called out to him, and he answered the urge to accept Amelia's invitation. Inside, Amelia took his hand and led Dillon to the bedroom. He felt Jasmines' call in his veins like fire, sending him back to the streets of London and her.
Dillon tried to dampen the need, making a silent promise to give Amelia a chance he never had. "You shouldn't invite strangers into your house. It's not safe nowadays." Amelia laughed. "Sweet boy, your concern about my safety touches me," he said as she removed her clothes and stood naked before moving back into his arms.
He tried, thinking before the desire to taste her overwhelmed him. He sank his teeth into Amelia's soft neck, drinking and wishing it was Cleo.