Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Writing Werewolves and... so ferocious I paw the dirt...

Oh, those werewolves! Always stealing the shapeshifter limelight. Of course, the wolfies might say, ‘yeah, without us howling at the moon and terrorizing humans for centuries, the rest of you shifters wouldn’t have ever had a shot at the limelight. Not to growl, but the ladies love us alphas, furry and when we’re not furry’.

Okay, as a writer of shifter stories, yes, I have several ‘wolf’ WIPs. So far, I haven’t had the opportunity to finish, revise, polish and then submit any of them. So, am I missing the paranormal erotic romance boat as an author? My ticket to selling fame and fortune? Okay, so I dramatize... I ain’t riding on Nora Robert’s shooting star.

Here are some snippets from my Wolf Shifter WIPs ~ which one appeals to you the most?

Secret Lives of Fortunate Wolves

Chapter One ~ American Werewolf

Werewolves of London, Coming to America by Robert Bateman.
Keira shoved her cousin’s latest article-writing attempt into one of her bags as the phone rang.
“Aunt Debbie, hello. What can I do for you?” Keira shouldered the phone while trying to tie her shoe, a comfy black suede half-boot.
“Dear, are you busy?”
“On my way out... taking some of my jewelry pieces up to Diane. Got Rob’s article. I’ll proof read it tonight.”
“Your mother said you were going up that way.”
“What is it, Aunt Debbie?” Keira attempted patience, slowing her breaths.
“Hunting the American Werewolf.”
“Are you talking about Rob or Coast-to-Coast when Linda Godfrey was on?”
Keira forced in more patient breaths and stilled the anxious whirl inside her head.
“Yes, Ian’s Punnett’s new show. I’m worried about Rob.”
Keira tingled, an eery crawling in her stomach she didn’t like at all.
“What’s going on, Aunt Debbie?”
“Rob hasn’t called.”
Keira tingled, a fierce sensation that rushed through her. Rob’s fanatic hobby was cryptozoology, chasing after unknown or paranormal creatures.
“What’d he do? Grab all his camera gear? Head up to Lake Geneva to hunt for the American Werewolf?”
“Yes, and he hasn’t called.”
“Where is he supposed to be, Aunt Debbie?”
“He’s staying at a small motel, The Half Moon. I spoke with him three nights ago. Rob said he would call last night.”
“What town, Aunt Debbie?” Worry furrowed Keira’s brow. Rob always called being a bit of a mother’s boy.
“It’s a tiny place. Don’t even think it’s on the map. Blue Moon Bay.”
“Road sign for a turn off, yeah, I’ve seen it. Sure, I’ll stop. Check in on him.”
“Thanks, dear. Be careful. Storm movin’ in I heard. On the morning news.”
“Call you on the cell, you do have my number?” Keira hefted the last bag over her free shoulder, then reached for her purse, one she’d glitter-designed just for the fun of it.
“Yes. Your mother gave it to me. Blessed be, dear.”
“Blessed be.”
Keira set her phone down, hurrying toward the front door. Outside, she tossed everything into her car, then hopped inside the Plum Silver Goddess, the name she’d given her 94 Eclipse. “Let’s go.”
Checking for traffic, she zipped onto the street, heading for the old two-lane highway. Blasting up the music of her favorite radio station, Keira drove toward the Land of Linda Godfrey’s american werewolves, an area in rural Wisconsin, east of Lake Geneva.

The Black Wolf’s Prophetess

Chapter One – Kill the Black Wolf

Duke Zon of the Virgo Moon Clan, wolf shifter born of an ancient lineage, loped the rest of the way up the high grassy ridge. Tonight he roamed the southern edge of the Crow Indian Reservation, near Billings, Montana. It had been several moons since anyone from his pack had patrolled the area. A sentinel’s eye and a keen nose prevents tragedy. His sire’s never-ending reminder dominated his thoughts for a few seconds, until the stench, only a whiff, from a chased skunk caught his nostrils.
Pausing at the top of the miles’ long ridge, he surveyed his surroundings before raising his gaze toward the stars. Mother Moon hung in the western midnight sky, a slim silvery claw. Duke howled his reverence to the all-guiding Mother, his wolfen soul singing joy through him.
Before traveling farther along the ridge, he sniffed the gentle crosswinds of early autumn, on the lookout for any enemy. Cautiously, he scanned the cattle range below for any telltale movements signaling he’d been heard and should abandon the area. He could be shot on sight if the humans thought he posed a ‘clear and present’ danger to their cattle.
Duke grinned to himself. If ‘they’ only knew what he actually was, there’d be a black ops bounty out on his black fur hide faster than his howling had sacred-touched Mother Moon. Eternal luck to his Lukan kind, so far their secret had been preserved among the humans.
He couldn’t see the cattle with his wolf sight. Still, the odor of the thin herd burned rank and potent inside his nostrils. Two full humans, also rank in smell, camped nearby, the sound of their fire crackled inside his pricked ears.
Effortlessly Duke trotted along the ridge, only glimpsing the luminous forms of small foraging creatures, then hearing them hop and scamper at his approach. He wasn’t hungry, the sweet tang of their pumping blood was merely a pleasure, not an enticement. No, he was fiercely restless. He needed time to consider his next move, whether or not to challenge his two brothers for leadership of his local pack.
Hearing the stealthy hunt of a wolfess near the cattle herd, Duke loped toward her, curious. She wasn’t a shifter by her scent. Sudden alarm raised his blood. If she dared take down one of the herd, it could mean her death, or her severe injury. The bloody horrible scene played out before his mind’s eye – the wolfess dying, blood spurting from her, her beautiful body maimed and lifeless. Fearing for her, he raced down the side of the enormous ridge, his speed increasing with each stride.

Moonrise of the Fairy Wolf

Drune ~

Drune clumsily lifted his swollen paw from the semi-frozen mud at the stream’s bank. He’d drunk thirstily, having traveled far and fast without prey or water. With his thirst satiated and his belly too tight to feel hunger, he felt the pull of Mother Moon. He focused his gaze through the black lacing of tree branches. Drune filled himself with the softened blaze of the moonset, ignoring the relentless itch crawling over his hide that meant he’d been in his wolf form for days too long.
Unable to do anything else, he threw back his head and let his howls rip up his throat. The songs rushed from his anguished soul. As he howled, the darkest hour of night fled and the warm moist winds arrived from the south bringing a dense fog that washed over him.
Gods beseeched, he didn’t want to find her and capture her. Force her to return with him, hand her over to the evil Queen-Sorceress, Rawvlin, even if Rawvlin’s Owl had spoken the truth. The woman he sought was the Queen-Sorceress’s stolen daughter of three decades past. If true, her pedigree would be the collision of two fae dynasties, one light and one dark. The power of both flowed in her veins, and possessed her magick.
Panting shallow quick breaths, Drune didn’t move, except to glance upwards. The etheric trail of the five crows dimly fluoresced, only seen by his eyes because of his heritage as fae and wolf. He could hunt by etheric energies as easily as he could scent his prey, sighting their aura signatures. Reluctantly, he turned to follow the trail, padding slowly until he could force his wooden exhausted legs into a trot. His gait was so lumbering he felt a sense of shame.
Flicking his ears back, he listened to the lonesome call of a gray-wing dove beckoning her mate. As he moved out of the deepest woods into the ground-shrouding fog, a young rabbit dashed ahead of him, slavering his jowls, yet doing nothing to tempt his belly. Drune had caught the faint smell of the woman, yes, the fragrance of a scarlet-tressed fae.
No fae of that lineage would live here. The fae population of this kingdom were Dilutes, considered more human in nature and resemblance. And to his knowledge none of them possessed an animal form.
Life pulsed through Drune at her stronger scent. Once he was close enough he could regain his human form, but only then.
He had tried every way to break the curse, and failed. Finally, he’d lain on his side tempting death, his paws twitching uncontrollably, the foam of his fatigue dribbling down his canine fangs. In the end, he hadn’t cared about his own life, only the end fate of his sister, who Rawvlin kept as her imprisoned guest.
He realized he was about to destroy her life, the woman he had to find, then capture to save his sister.

For now, Darius, my bull shifter, has decided to voice his thoughts.

Yowza butting-powza, the Bull is back... a hero with a real set of horns and the bold balls to match.

For the beginning of this bullie woolie tail see my prior blogs ~

X-Serial Flash

New Bull in Town ~ Darius Speaks

I lower my head butting at fate until reason finally returns. With my body burning as if I’ve been branded over every inch of my hide, I spin and lope toward the nearby creek for a drink. Anything to cool my lust. Yep, I’ve been branded before. Just to test it out, find out what it’s like for my bull brethren. Let me tell you, I would have preferred a swarm of angry bees attacking that spot. Course, I erased the ugly black disfigurement during my next shift to human. Not an option for my bull buddies who aren’t shifters.

There aren’t many of us left, the bull men of Minotaur. We’re myths now. Not even particularly good inspiring myths to my way of thinking. A few us still roam the human world, reporting what we see and experience. Those of us who stay on Earth live in a land our kind claimed at the beginning of the industrial age, when all things magical were in decline. Our realm is shielded by high sharp mountains and by the joined power of our minds. We remain invisible to the human population, except to those who continue in the ancient mystery schools.

Shapeshifter lovers, check out CAT NIP. It’s a free read by erotic romance author, Gem Sivad ~ http://gemsivad.wordpress.com ~ also, for the ongoing story, subscribe at ~ http://textnovel.com ~
Plus, take a peek at COYOTE MOON by Pat Cunningham at ~ http://bookstrand.com/product-coyotemoon-14959-330.html ~ Pat’s book has received several top reviews.



Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Author of ~

All Shades of Blue Paradise
Red Lioness Tamed
When a Good Angel Falls
Tangerine Carnal Dreams
Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis
Black Cat Beauty
Her Insatiable Dark Heroes
Stallion of Ash and Flame


Serena Shay said...

Oh my, Savanna, all of the snippets are intriguing! I'd like to read all of the books! My favorite though was The Black Wolf’s Prophetess Duke Zon appears to be quite an alpha. :)

Paris said...

It's a very tough choice but the Moonrise of the Fairy Wolf, Drune gets my vote. Yum;-)

Savanna Kougar said...

Serena ~ Duke is fierce over his found woman.

Paris ~ Drune is definitely a tortured hero.

Anonymous said...

Casting my vote for Black Wolf's Prophetess because I like the Native American angle. I'm days away from submitting a novel called A London Werewolf in America to BookStrand, so please hold off on your first one. The title "The Fairy Wolf" makes it sound like he should be an interior decorator or something. Are there any gay wolves out there? Maybe that's why omegas never get the chicks.

Pat C.

Savanna Kougar said...

Pat, luv ya! Black Wolf is much closer to being submittable than Fortunate Wolves, which is novel size now. So no worries.
Well, fae didn't exactly sound right for the title. But he's all alpha where it counts.
I'm certain there are gay wolfies who excell at interior decorating, or whatever their choice of profession is... actually one of villains in Murder by Hair Spray is a chihuahua shifter, who is sought after as an interior decorator.

Anonymous said...

A chihuahua shifter?

How do I keep missing out on all the good stories?

Pat C.

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