Saucy Green in The Peak!

St. Paddy they say

Liked to roll in the hay

In the town of T Peak

His ardor was tweaked

By a lass known only as May

~~~

 Have a fun, flirty St. Patrick's Day!!

Serena

Newsy Bits and the Calendar

I have no pride. I tore the plantar ligament/tendon in my left foot on Sunday and rather than trying to get around my house (which is filled with stairs and lots of small rooms) on crutches, I am crawling around on my knees. My dog, a large flat-coat retriever, thinks this is totally awesome and that I must be down on her level simply to love on her constantly. My cat, on the other hand, has decided that this means I want her to sit on the back of furniture and attack me a la mountain lion as I shuffle past her. I love my pets, but they are driving me nuts. If I had a little more pride, I’d be using the crutches and to heck with ease of movement.

Despite being able to move more or less freely, I still can’t do much in the way of housework. I have delegated much of my housework to my oldest son, who at not-quite-sixteen is a big help, I must say. I still don’t like the way he vacuums but at least the floors are mostly cleaned. He’s also a better cook than I had realized. In return for him doing most of my housework, all I had to cough up was a copy of a new World of Warcraft campaign so he could unlock the worg character. A worg, by the way, is a type of werewolf. Glad to see my misfortune is adding to the shape shifter population! LOL!

All this forced immobility has left me with some extra free time, which I have spent writing. I actually have one WIP that’s almost ready to be submitted for publication—Mooney and Marissa’s story. And since I’ll be down for another few weeks till my foot heals enough for me to put weight on it, I should be able to get Lex and Dori’s story finished and ready to be published pretty soon, too. I am going to try to get them published through my regular publisher, but I may end up going the self-published route. I’ll see how it goes.

I’m sure you guys have noticed the Men of Talbot’s Peak calendar pages I’ve been posting the first Thursday of every month. I do 3D art as well as writing, so bringing Pat’s nudey calendar blog to life seemed like a fun project and a great way to say thank you to all of our wonderful readers. There is now a dedicated page (see the link at the top) which has links back to all previous calendar pages in case you missed a month or are new to the blog. Just click on the link and down load or print it.

As well as the big calendar, I have a smaller one I’ve been working on. It’s a CD case desk calendar and will be PG—no fully nude shots. The printer and I are still trying to agree on just how much skin can show and still be acceptable. Once we do agree, they will be up for sale on the printer’s web site and I’ll buy a few to give away for blog hop prizes. Like in Pat’s blog post, all proceeds for the small calendar will go to charity.

Since there isn’t a real Talbot’s Peak children’s hospital, the money raised by calendar sales will be going to The Wild Animal Sanctuary, which specializes in saving large carnivores that people tried to keep as pets. If we make enough from calendar sales, we may even be able to "adopt" one of the animals in the name of all the ShapeShifter Seductions readers! There are currently over 900 rescued wolves needing patrons and many big cats.

That’s about all for the newsy bits. Have a great day!

~ Rebecca

Wearin' of the Green Scales ~ Dragon Warrior

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

May you have a memorable and magickal St.Patty's Day.

Here's a fantasy flash scene I had no idea was there until I began writing it. But it is the Year of the Dragon.
~~~~~~

Wearin' of the Green Scales ~ Dragon Warrior

Dragon Warrior that he was, Dhaegan lowered his blade slowly. Bright as moonlight, the immense blade had served him well ever since he'd pulled it from the bottom of Avalon's deepest lake, and out of the grip of a red-haired giant who, though he lay in a state of suspension, nevertheless kept a savage hold.

Yet, wrest it away he had for the sake of the many princesses and fair maidens -- also for the foolish knaves or unlucky knights -- he'd rescued during the past few centuries, his training having begun once Merlin passed into another realm taking the age of Magick with him.

Now, a sort of retirement lay before him. Dhaegan could not have said he was sorry to see this day. He'd lived the ages-long adventure with gusto, slashing and slaying those of evilest heart and mind.

His soul had been tried, tested, and purified by the fires of both supernatural temptations and the fiercest of tribulations. However, in the end his triumphs had won out -- his reward earned.

Now his scales were the brilliant aurora green of an elder statesman, a counselor to the youth of his dragon shapeshifter kind. Now he'd earned family and castle and the proper leisures of life.

Yet, his true reward, therein lay his problem. Few dragon maidens without mates were about in these times, this year of 2012. And since the world tilted wildly and madly, thundering toward ever more tumult during this end of, and beginning of, a new age, even fewer maidens wished to be his mate.

None, in point of fact.

So he'd been told by the Dragoness Matchmaker. His warrior strength and ability counted against him. For, he would not forsake a fight, or a battle that needed winning, even though his days of seeking out such rabid-dog villainy had ended. And he was glad of it.

Refusing the sigh that would pass between his lips, Dhaegan placed the point of his broadsword on the thick strong brick before the crackling fireplace. Leaning on it for a bit of balance, he propped his booted foot on the bonnie hearth, feeling the hefty brush of his kilt against his thigh.

Pondering his dilemma, he let the cooking odors of the fine establishment bring him some measure of enjoyment. While he'd found a grand view and a lush mountainous terrain for his castle and grounds -- the purchase having been completed only a few days ago -- the true benefit would be settling himself within an established community of shapeshifters, and other diverse paranormal folk.

Of course, Dante's wondrous underground dungeon known as The Interspecies Pleasure Club held all manner of fascinations to be explored. While Dhaegan was a man-dragon of lusty and unlimited appetite for pleasures with the fair sex, both artful and primal, his nature was not inclined toward such erotic fetishes as had been described to him.

That is, other than what his dragon physiology offered. The tip of his tail tickling the pearl between a woman's thighs had gained him many lovers in the past. As had many other of his passionate and unique skills.

Dhaegan was also not inclined toward more than one woman at this stage of his life. He desired a richer relationship, one that included an intimacy of the heart and mind, not only the sweetfire ecstasy of joining loins with a woman.

He wanted a mate to share his life with. He favored the type of rollicking and loving life his sire and damn still enjoyed.

Dhaegan gave the bar maid an appreciative nod as she placed a pewter tankard brimming with a dark frothy brew beside him. She gifted him with a sassy smile before spinning on her heel and swaying away, her movements like an impatient sylph.

Lifting the ale to his lips, Dhaegan quaffed with satisfaction, his gaze on the leaping flames, yet not. Truly he'd not owned an abundance of time to plan out his new life. Now seemingly time had become his ally in the matter.

As a Celtic songstress began warbling over the pub's sound system, Dhaegan coiled his inner dragon around the heartfelt singing. He counted it good luck that his end of days as a wandering and dutiful warrior coincided with the modern version of St. Patrick's day, and the wearin' of the green... or the wearin' of his newly acquired green scales.

This, even though, St. Patrick, the man, had been of simple mind and a one-trick saint. The poor fool had been saved far more times by others of Dhaegan's ilk than the bumbling holy man had ever saved another human being.

Earlier in the day, as Dhaegan stared at his reflection in the hidden pristine lake, he'd been quite proud of the emerald sheen of scales. He'd also watched Sivakka, the Nessie, swim and frolic with her dolphin friends. In fact, the placement of his castle would not be far away, an hour's flight on a day of serene weather.

Dhaegan allowed himself a grin at his dragon's vanity before he threw back another large swallow of his ale. Moments later, the lilac, white-heat smell of the human woman he'd attempted to rescue mere days ago caused him to shake back his mane of hair, then alter his position to seek her out.

Letting the mostly finished tankard of ale rest atop his knee, Dhaegan searched the pub's ever-burgeoning crowd. He'd been hiking along the riding trails of Merry and Dash's dude ranch to familiarize himself with the terrain, and to stretch his human legs.

He'd observed the woman's horse slip on a patch of recently loosened pebbles. She'd taken a tumble, her behind thumping on the ground after a valiant effort to hang on. In seconds, Dhaegan had caught hold of the frightened horse's reins because the wild-eyed animal trotted straight at him.

Once he determined it was mostly the woman's pride that had been hurt, and since her mount was uninjured, with just a bit of fetlock bruising, Dhaegan had offered to give her a leg up, then escort her back to the ranch.

Her response had been a stiff but polite thank you for catching her horse. After tossing her long glossy braid over one shoulder -- her tresses were the color of dark chestnut -- she'd deigned to gaze upon him. Instantly, layers of frost formed over her peacock-blue eyes -- the piercing and mystical eyes of a Seeress, he swiftly noticed.

Dhaegan realized with little effort that the woman absolutely despised the male sex -- confirmed when she'd gone on to inform him she was just fine, that she would lead the horse back, and didn't need his help.

He didn't question why. There was no need, given how often he witnessed the fair sex being poorly treated, and often with utter disrespect. He'd chastised or severely punished any man who had done such in his presence, depending on the degree of the oaf's fault and failing.

Despite the woman's curt insistence that he could be on his way, Dhaegan had discreetly followed her to the ranch's barn until he'd known she was being attended to properly. And not that he hadn't lustily enjoyed every moment of viewing the pear-shaped swell of hips and the precocious outline of her buttocks as she walked down the trail.

The woman had been careful to keep her mount managed and calm. And Dhaegan wondered what it would be like if she managed him with such attention and care. He also didn't deny that her eyes still intrigued him, still haunted him to this very moment.

He didn't deny that he wanted her to pierce him down to his soul -- his soul as man and dragon.

Once he gained sight of the fey-delicate woman, Dhaegan set his tankard down, sheathed his broadsword, and strode toward her. She spoke with Gypsy Red Wolf, exotic dancer and Talbot's Peak psychic.

Gypsy had been kind, engaging him in an extended conversation when he'd complimented her dancing. Of course, he had remained platonic in his manner, well-knowing about Sergei, her Siberian Tiger lover.

Now, simply from overhearing snatches of conversation, and from what Dante had mentioned in their brief words together, he knew Gypsy was seeking a Power Circle to protect the paranormal community from psi attacks, and to advise those who were desirous of more assistance in these times of turmoil.

If his Seeress intended to be part of the Power Circle, there was no way he would allow her to remain unprotected, unescorted. He would simply prove his worthiness to her. He would be her Dragon Warrior no matter her distaste for him, and his presence.

"Ah, Dhaegan," Gypsy greeted, a knowing smile on her lips and in her eyes. "Have you met my dearest friend, Sychelle? She is from the Dawn Galactic Order."

Dhaegan halted in his tracks a few steps before he'd meant to stop. Astonishment coursed through him. His dragon blood burned in his veins like bolts of lightning.

The Order was as ancient as his kind. Only descendants of the High Priestesses who had first settled in Spain as the Basque people were allowed, and their blood had been kept as pure as possible.

Dhaegan could only stare as Sychelle turned her head, glancing at him over her shoulder, and only from the corner of her eye. For once, gallant words failed him. His tongue, the bastard, refused to move from its fastened position against the roof of his mouth.

"You are dragon, are you not?" Her formal voice did not surprise him, even though it was completely different than how she'd first spoken to him.

"I am a Dragon Warrior," he boomed. Yet his answer had been spoken in a low tone meant only for her ears, and also for Gypsy's hearing.

"Yes, then I was not mistaken as I thought about our encounter later. Why do you approach now?"

"Now," Dhaegan moved beside her. "I will be your Dragon Warrior, Seeress of the Dawn Galactic Order."
~~~~~~

~ Happy Year of the Dragon St. Patrick's Day ~

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Canus Interruptus

Evie knew the second she went from hunter to hunted. She lost the trace of his scent on the breeze and the sound of his boots on the pavement. She’d been as careful as a coyote could be, a skill that made ninjas look clumsy, and still he’d sensed her stalking him and turned the tables on her.

She tried to look casual while she cast about for some sign of him. It was tough to remain inconspicuous while strutting around the town square in shrinkwrap leather pants and stiletto boots, but somehow Evie pulled it off. Even in a provocative costume, she knew how to blend in.

Besides, in a town where nude purple fairies ran loose in the street, a chick in black leather barely rated a glance.

The glare of the streetlights and gloom of the shadows would only deceive her eyes, so Evie focused her nose on the breeze and her ears on the nighttime noises. Times like these she wished she could sprout coyote ears on her human head, the better to swivel for sound. All the while she continued her hip-rolling amble up the street. If she couldn’t spot him, the best she could do was be ready for him.

He granted her barely a whisper of warning before he pounced. Evie had just started to turn when he rushed up behind her and bore her to the ground. His foot slipped in a puddle of mushy spring snow. Their landing was harder and more awkward than intended.

Evie giggled at his swearing, but nipped his neck when he started to apologize. “Stay on script,” she hissed. She made a lot of thrashing motions that did nothing at all to dislodge him while still giving the appearance that she was putting up one hell of a fight. “Help, help,” she murmured. “Somebody save me from the big bad wolf.”

Chase’s mismatched eyes gleamed at her. “Nobody’s going to help you, you little bitch in heat—”

“Hey. You need help, lady?”

They looked up into the concerned and belligerent faces of a trio of young bull elk. Normally herbies wouldn’t interfere with a wolf on the hunt, but these three had been tailing Evie at a respectful distance for the last twenty minutes, drawn by the come-hither wave of her ass. Chase probably hadn’t even noticed them. Males developed tunnel vision when it came to a female, regardless of her species or diet.

“I’m fine,” she purred up at them. “I slipped in the snow. This gentleman is helping me up.”

“It looked more like he—” The young elk broke off to stare at Chase. “Lieutenant? That you, sir?”

“Son of a mutt,” Chase grumbled. He stood, drawing Evie upright with him. “Yes, Willis, it’s me. Is there some kind of emergency at the station?”

“Um, nossir, we were just out walking.”

“Following the lady, you mean.”

“Nossir! We all just happened to be walking in the same direction.”

“Uh-huh.” Through all this Evie pretended to totter on her five-inch heels, clutching at Chase and rubbing up against him. The elk could barely keep the smirks off their faces. “Are you all right now, ma’am?”

“I feel dizzy,” Evie breathed. “Would you hold me a moment?”

Chase muttered under his breath. “We don’t need the whole team,” he told the elk. “I’ve got the situation under control.”

“Of course you do, sir.” Willis snapped off a brisk salute. “You have a good night, sir. Ma’am.”

Chase waited until the elk had sauntered out of earshot before he rounded on Evie. “I told you this wasn’t a good idea.”

“I disagree. This was a wonderful idea. The bad idea was sending them away. Another five minutes and we could have had a ménage a—what’s French for five?”

“Evie!”

“I thought wolves did everything in a pack.”

“Not that we don’t. And we don’t share with elk.” Chase shook his head. “From now on, no more role-play in public. I don’t know how I let you talk me into this.”

“I do.” Evie rubbed up against him until he started to growl. “We could try again. The night’s still young. But if you want to go inside … ”

“No. Not in the ambulance. I mean it. What if we get a call?”

Evie fluttered her lashes. “Then the patient won’t need the defibrulator.”

Chase huffed a sigh. “Sometimes I wonder … ”

“If a wolf can keep up with a coyote?”

“Why I bother.”

“It’s because no wolf can resist a good hunt. And no coyote can resist a good trick.” She moved unexpectedly and shoved Chase into the snow, then leaped on top of him. She nuzzled his neck playfully. “We just switched roles. Feel free to yell for help.”

“That you, Chase? You okay down there?”

Evie stared around. Officer Jim Gordon grinned down at them. “Evening, folks. Slippery, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Evie growled. She shoved herself to her feet, leaving Chase to fend for himself. “How fortunate so many people are out and about to lend us a hand.”

“We’re here to serve,” Officer Gordon agreed cheerfully. “You might want to head in out of the cold. The movie theater will be letting out in about five minutes.”

“I thought Montana had a sparse population,” Evie complained once Officer Gordon had left. “This is worse than Los Angeles.”

“Maybe we should go in,” Chase said. “There’s coffee back at the station … and Hannibal brought his pickup truck.”

Evie perked up at once. “He still keeps blankets in the back?”

“And a tarp.” He winked. “In case it snows.”

“That's what I like about you EMTs. You're always prepared." She took Chase’s hand. They set off at a trot across the square.

Don't Get Me Wrong, But. . .

“Damn it, Rachel. That is not funny,” Gil hissed through clenched teeth, pointing at the offense item sitting on Rachel Carnston’s mantel. Three dates with no problems. She even witnessed his full moon morph and hadn’t ran away screaming. Instead, she’d fed him premium cashews and allowed him sips from her wine glass. Not much of a passionate evening, but with his karma, Gil counted himself lucky. Maybe playing poker with Louie, Serge and the rest had started a good luck streak for him. After seeing the item Rachel said she had for him, well---Gil was wondering if his curse had doubled up on him.

“Oh come on Gil,” Rachel began. Her soft southern accent wrapped around him like a cat purring and rubbing against your leg with contentment. Her male Manx cat, Toby loved to chase any small rodent he found. More than once the four-legged pain in the ass feline had tried to pounce on Gil’s scrawny carcass. Now Toby perched on the back of the couch glaring at Gil.

“Rachel honey, what were you thinking?” Gil licked his lips and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. Rachel’s deep V-necked top left little to his imagination as to her bust size. He didn’t care what she measured. He wanted to bury his face between her breasts and lick. Add a few place nibbles as he worked his way to her twin firm nipples pebbling underneath her bra. Last time he’d scored. . .oh hell he couldn’t remember when his willing companion wasn’t four legged and hairy or another damn rodent. Thanks to his inept magic, he’d rendered himself sterile in his animal form.

“Gilley baby,” Rachel started. Gil clapped his hand over Rachel’s mouth. He wanted to dip his cock into that hot place and feel her tongue gliding across it, stem to stern and back. Okay, when had his gonads gotten the better of him? At this rate, he’d lose control and ravish Rachel. Great another short-lived fling!

“Let me guess, you thought it was cute.” Gil swallowed hard as Rachel’s nipped his fingers and nodded. She inched her hands under his shirt, dragging her nails up and down his back. Damn if he could purr, he’d be louder than Toby who’d decided to entwine his body between their feet. And the feline was loud and intermittent with his plaintive mews.

Gil inhaled sharply as Rachel slide her hand from under his shirt and cupped his crotch. Lord, what did she think she was doing? Trying to talk him into accepting her obnoxious gift? Let her keep the blasted thing in plain sight? Or get him so hot and bothered he didn’t care?

Rachel laved her tongue over Gil’s fingers. Was he as amply endowed as his long digits suggested? Hmm, big and hard enough to fill her until she creamed from him being deep in her? So he morphed into a squirrel. Not a problem. He might balk at the cage the first few times until he understood she was keeping him safe. Even Toby knew better than to fuss too much. The next full moon having two male lovers at her beck was going to be very interesting and enormous fun.