Friday, December 31, 2010

A Bird in the Hand...

Hey everyone, can you believe were are officially on the last day of 2010?  Where does the time go?

We've had a great time here at Shapeshifter Seduction last year and expect 2011 to be an even bigger bang.  Thanks to all of our readers for stopping by and checking out our sometimes serious, sometimes silly flights of fancy.

Have a safe and happy new year!


Burgess absorbed the slight weight of the fragile beauty now wound around him. His hands cupped her perfectly rounded ass even as she wrapped her legs around his hips. Her dress inched higher on her thighs, but thankfully, still covered her interesting bits. Her tongue delved deep, mated with his while her hands held tightly to his face. This mad grope in an airport terminal was as close to heaven as he’d gotten in far too long.

“Dear Gawd,” her panting breaths were as feminine as she was, gentle puffs against his lips and chin as she spurred him with her periwinkle eyes. They were lined heavily in black and colored with a rainbow of colors that were reminiscent of the mighty parrot found in the tropical areas of his home. So what was this beauty doing here?

“Pru’dance, glad I caught you doll…” The look of horror in his rainbow woman’s eyes at the ridiculously false accented man’s voice made Burgess take notice. The instinct to hurt this man, now touching what he would love to consider his, was strong. “…just wanted to give you one last chance to enjoy the goods on yer old friend Tex here, before I mosey a piece.”

“Move along, slick, before I move you along.” Burgess suggested, with a voice of authority, while never taking his eyes off the woman in his arms. “This beautiful bird is all mine.”

“Yer loss, darlin’.” The idiot muttered before hurrying away.

“No, my gain I should think…” she whispered.

“What’s your name beautiful?” He pulled her closer, refusing to lose the heat and lushness of her body against his.

“Prudence Penelope.”

“A gorgeous name luv, but I think I should like to call you, Mistress.” And put myself in your tiny and perfect hands for the rest of the night. “Ring in the new year with me, Mistress.”

“Yes…” Her voice turned wispy as if nervous or unsure. By 2011, he would make sure her nervousness was gone. He’d allow himself a night of submissive abandon before taking on the Yakooza once more.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Heading into the New Year on mounds of stinking snow...

Hi and welcome to your Wednesday fix of Shapeshifter seductions! Rebecca here wishing everyone a great New Years! This week, it’s all about the homebody. With the weather doing all kinds of crazy things, I’m going to bet that a lot of folks who would normally be out howling at midnight on New Years Eve will be tucked in at home and bored to tears. Not to worry! I have listed here every really cool thing to watch on TV this coming weekend!

Syfi Channel is running a Twilight Zone marathon all day Friday and Saturday. Animal Planet is running a Hoarders marathon. BBC America is running a Dr. Who marathon. (the new Dr. Who, not the old one). TLC is doing a marathon on something called “Strange Sex.” I’m not sure why anyone would want to watch that, but hay! I’m not going to judge.

If you have good internet at home, you can Google episodes of the British TV series “Being Human.” It’s about a werewolf, a vampire and a ghost trying very hard to pretend to be human. The ghost, by the way, is awesomely sarcastic, the werewolf is scruffy but hot and the vampire is cute and nerdy. It does run here in the U.S. on BBC America and the third season starts up Friday, 1/10/11, so this weekend would be a good time to catch up on the first season. Netfix also has both season one and two available, but you’ll have to order it today to get it by Friday.

You can also do the egg-head route and watch something educational. PBS has their fantastic series, “The Dragon Chronicles,” available on line. As you well know, if it’s on PBS, it is by default, intelligent programming. And it’s dragons. The only way to beat dragons is to have them turn into sinfully sexy men.

If, on the other hand, you don’t want anything that makes you think and actually get bored listening to those sexy Welsh accents on “Being Human,” you can wallow in celebrity misshapes and gaffs since E! will be airing such tidbits as the year’s 50 most embarrassing celebrity gaffs and goofs. TMC will be having some good stuff on and off Friday and Saturday including Twilight, Dragon Fighter, Vanilla Sky, and You Kill Me.

And when Midnight does come, don’t be afraid to belt out your favorite verse of Auld Lange Syne. This sone is known as the most populate song that no one knows the words to. It’s an old Scots song so feel free to belt it out with gusto! What? Don’t know the words? Well, here they are:

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine,
And we'll tak a cup o kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine,
But we've wander'd monie a weary fit,
Sin auld lang syne.

We twa hae paidl'd in the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin auld lang syne.

And there's a hand my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o thine,
And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught,
For auld lang syne.

With that, I'm going to close up for the year. And extra points to the commentor who can figure out why the picture I posted is relevant to this post other than the Twilight reference. TTFN!


Tuesday, December 28, 2010

The Love Wolfess Joins the Cast

Happy howling and yowling New Year, shapeshifter lovers. Come on in. It’s nice and warm inside this den, especially with The Love Wolfess, a new cast member, and long-time resident of Talbot’s Peak.

The Love Wolfess

Sozchy rolled on her side, trying to ignore the insistent knocking, then clawing on her front door. At Devon’s pleading whimpers, she released an exasperated sigh, then punched her pillow.

Scat city, the spoiled whelp! It was nearing dawn and she needed to sleep since she had a new radio gig going at Dante’s pleasure club as The Love Wolfess, advice for the lovelorn shapeshifter.

Devon pitifully whined, and her stupid tender heart got the better of her. Sozchy groaned, then grrrrred at herself as she sat up. “Yeah, it’ll probably get me caught in an effing spring-loaded trap one of these days,” she muttered.

After swinging her feet to the floor, Sozchy shook her head, clearing away the cobwebs of sleep. Her sable hair tumbled down her back in waves, then pooled over her hands as she pushed upward. Groan-growling again, she shoved her bare feet into her sheepskin slippers, a gift her mother had given her from her last kill.

As she padded toward the door, Sozchy shouted, “I’m, I’m not, you preppy cur.”

“Guilty,” she heard Devon’s muffled admission through the door.

Grabbing the lightweight coat hanging near the door, Sozchy slipped it over her comfy don’t-need-a-male, but want-a-real-alpha PJs. After belting the coat tight, she sniffed just to make certain it was Devon. Werewolf habits were a good thing in her survival book.

Cracking the door, she peeked out. Cat-tail humping Devon, her ex from many moons ago, stood with one hand shoved deep in his designer jean’s pocket. He leaned on his arm, propped above him, and gave her a you-saved-my-hide grin.

For an instant, Sozchy stared at his golden-wolf good looks. His dark caramel locks were as stunning as ever, falling close to his broad, speed-explosive shoulders. Devon was one of the fastest wolves in the pack.

He raised one brow while his dark eyes glowed a gorgeous amber. “Let me in...?” he paused, “I need some advice from The Love Wolfess.”

“Yeah, right. I bet you haven’t read ‘one’ of my columns for the G&B Gazette.”

“Nope. But, the maids devour it every morning. I get the digested version.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “How about some private advice?”

“If it was only advice...pampered pup.” Giving her hair a careless toss, Sozchy stepped back to let him enter.

He sauntered past her as if he gripped the world by the snout. Though, Sozchy could tell by his subtler gait, Devon was deeply troubled. It was why his whining had gotten to her.

She’d heard whispers at the club that the Tiger Yakuza threatened Talbot’s Peak, even a rumor his sire had sniffed their stripey asses in his psycho-lust for more power. Given that, Sozchy had to wonder if Devon had come to confide in her, as he had during their cubhood together.

Before shutting the door, Sozchy scented for any ‘unwanteds’ around her cabin home. Relieved to find nothing, other than the faint smell of fucked feline on Devon, she moved inward. “Early morning visit to prove your mounting studliness to daddy wolf?” she mocked.

Devon pivoted, smooth and powerful, to face her. “Yeah, babe, you know my sire,” he quietly growled. “You are planning on coming to my find-a-mate party?”

“Nooooo,” she sang, her fangs wanting to show. “It isn’t on my social calendar.” Sozchy studied him as she folded her arms across her chest. Tightly.

“I sent you an invitation.”

“Yesss,” she exaggerated. “So?”

Like a suddenly deflated balloon, Devon slumped into her favorite chair. Not looking at her, he hunched his shoulders as he leaned forward and gripped his hands. “I’m in cave deep scat.” When she said nothing, he continued, “It’s my own dingle-ball fault.”

Knowing Devon behaved like an inbred poodlehead as a way to rebel against his sire, Sozchy remained silent, and waited for him to spill his guts. Just the way, they sliced open the guts of the prey they’d killed together. So long ago.

“I’m in love with her.” He rose up slightly, but still didn’t eye Sozchy straight on. “I knew what she was, is.” Restless as a hunted and circling wolf, he moved, but didn’t get up. “I played dumb with her. Now...” he howled softly, “I don’t want her to know.” He swallowed back a whimper. “I don’t want her to know, I knew.”

Devon launched upward, and grabbed the back of his neck. “Lycaon, Sozchy. She was so beautiful.” He gazed at her now, the agony of his heart obvious. “I didn’t want to...have to...have to kill her.”

“Kill her?”

“I seduced her. Or, let her seduce me.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. We seduced each other. And, it was good. So damn fucking good.” Devon snagged a breath. “It’s still good.”

Sozchy’s fangs practically gnashed, but her training as a counselor took over. She arched her brow. “Want to get to the fang endpoint here?”

“She’s an assassin for the Tiger Yakuza...”

Sozchy collapsed now, into the winged chair close to her fireplace. “Scat, you bonehead. And, I mean both bones.” She managed to glare ferociously, once she shook the hair from her face.

“Yeah, scat. I know.”

“What advice do you want? How to dump an assassin? How to handle an in-heat tigress? What?!”

Devon had the grace to look like a wolf in sheep’s clothing as he gazed at her. “I was hoping you would cover for me at my party. Pretend we are about to be mates.”

Sozchy felt her jaw drop. She saw through feral eyes. Still, she spoke with icy calm. “I’m not acceptable mating material according to your father. Remember?”

Devon gave her a bit of his usual cocky grin. “That’s the good part of this plan. A little show of son versus sire defiance at my party, by showing up with a she-wolf who doesn’t meet Daddy’s approval.”

“Yeah. Watch the fur fly in one direction. While the fur is humping and flying in another direction.”

“You do understand.” Hope lit his eyes.

“When don’t I?” Recovering her spine, Sozchy hopped up, and paced. “Just how is this supposed to work? Other than I end up fighting off a jealous professional assassin with claws like blades, while ‘daddy’ targets me for an unsporting run through the woods.”

“No worries about my tabby. She knows you’re only a friend.”

“Tabby,” Sozchy muttered, then snarled at Devon.

“She approved of this plan. Look at this way. You’ll be saving another she-wolf from her assassin’s claws.”

“Oh, this is beyond the kill. She doesn’t know you know she’s a Yakuza assassin, but she ‘approved’ this plan.”

“Then, you will...” Devon went for her jugular, as in her heart.

“Only to keep a huntress eye on what’s happening. For the sake of Talbot’s Peak.” Sozchy faced him, hands planted on her hips, her human fangs bared. “I won’t show throat to your father. And, you better make certain he doesn’t send his pack of brainless curs after my hide.”

“I’ll let him know it’s off between us. He won’t have a reason.”

Sozchy tilted her head, all she-wolf attitude. “You should know White Fang Kent is a friend. I understand he still has Daddy’s limo.”

Somewhat to her surprise, Devon barked and yipped with laughter, even holding his sides. Finally, his butt hit the raised stone platform before her fireplace, large because she slept on it as wolf.

When he looked at her, his eyes glittered with amusement. “Yeah, babe, the Fang tracked me down to warn me about the Yakuza. Let’s just say, we came to an understanding. I even gave him a few meaty bones to chew on about Daddy’s empire. And, promised him more. A promise I intend to keep. Looks like we might be on the same side.”

“Like we used to be,” Sozchy murmured. “So, whelp breath, when do you plan to tell your tigress the truth?”

The Kougar’s news ~

If you enjoy blog hops and want the chance to win a Kindle, I will be participating in one on January 1-2. Here’s the beginning addy ~ ~



Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Devon Earns His Stripes

(How was your holiday? We've got a major snowstorm moving up the coast, so I'm posting a day early just in case the library's closed tomorrow. Enjoy!)

“Yeah, baby, yeah,” Devon Hancock rumbled as the woman’s claws scored his naked back. “That’s my little tabby cat. That’s the way I like it.”

Rakshasi writhed against him in the way she also knew he liked. Sex with a wolf was not as she’d been led to believe. They made more noise, for one thing. And they were far more appreciative than a sullen tiger male. She and Devon had been appreciating each other for nearly three months now.

Devon rolled off her, but only to gather her into his arms and wash soft licks along her neck. Rakshasi cuddled against his chest and purred. She hadn’t been thrilled with this assignment when her lord had first ordered it. She’d long since changed her mind.

“Come home with me,” Devon said suddenly. “Come to the party with me. If I walk in with a date, Dad will shit himself.”

“He does not like cats?” Inwardly she snorted. If Damien Hancock recognized her, her species would be the least of his dislikes.

“Daddy doesn’t like people who won’t show him throat. Daddy would like to see me married to some she-wolf he approves of.” He briefly bared his teeth. “Sometimes I think my brother had the right idea. Too bad open rebellion isn’t my thing. I’d rather sneak around behind his back.” He nuzzled Rakshasi’s neck. “It’s a hell of a lot more fun.”

“He’s arranged a marriage for you?” she asked with deceptive casualness. She flexed her claws in anticipation of his answer.

“He’s got a couple prospects lined up. None of ’em interest me one hair as much as you do.” He treated her throat to another affectionate lick.

Rakshasi relaxed her hand, and some fortunate, unsuspecting she-wolf got to keep her life a while longer. “Arranged marriages are normal where I come from.”

“Hump that. You’re in America now, baby. Land of the free.” He pawed her breast hopefully. “You feeling free again yet?”

“For you, always.” She climbed atop him.

Afterwards Rakshasi lay beside her snoring lover. He wasn’t the sharpest blade in the scabbard, as her brother Tasman often described him. However, he was quite handsome, and caring, and skilled in the coupling arts. The problem lay in the intrigue between her lord and his.

Get close to him, her father Shere Khan had instructed. Gain his trust. He favors cats. He will never see the assassin behind the lovely face. And when the time comes …

Rakshasi studied her claws, then curled her deadly little hand into a fist. That time had come, and long since gone. She had committed the most unforgiveable sin of her profession, and come to care for her target.

She wasn’t blind to Devon’s faults. He was no alpha, as the wolves termed their lords. But he could be, with the right woman to steer him. Here in this young, wild, empty land they could carve an empire. A small one, perhaps, but it would be theirs.

She’d learned much about wolves in the past three months. Wolf packs were run by partnership. Male and female acted as equals. Unlike tiger males, wolves did not abuse, ignore, dismiss or abandon their mates.

“Land of the free,” she murmured, caressing Devon’s hair. Free to choose as a man did. Free to choose her mate. Rakshasi had chosen. And if Shere Khan should object?

Rakshasi snarled. Not for nothing had her mother named her She-Demon. Those who feared the fangs of the tiger had never felt the claws of the tigress.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

The Ice Cracks

“Ho, ho my a---“ Danny shut his mouth as a growl sounded near him.

“Watch your mouth, my young pervert,” Spirit Bear aka Mr. Tongson warned. “There are youngins about and they don’t need your influence on their impressionable minds.”

Danny pasted the best smile he could on his face and handed Spirit Bear another wrapped gift. More community service. At least the female guard on duty hadn’t whispered too hotly about lights out activities once he returned. His butt hurt more often than not any more. “Here ya go Santa Bear. This tag reads for Mickey.”

“Thank you Elf Danny. Here comes Mickey.” A little girl gimped across the room toward Spirit Bear. Her black braids flopped with each step. The look of determination on her face and her stiff posture indicated her spunk and persistence in getting her gift on her own.

Spirit Bear leaned toward Danny. “See this one, my young pervert. She knows her value and worth. She could ask for help but wants to do on her own. Look at the young male standing back to the left.”

Danny gazed out over the crowd of parents and children gathered in the community center. A hunkish young male stood several feet a part. His eyes watched someone intently. He’d be damn fine in his adult prime. Danny wondered if he’s preference ran to men.

“Keep your mind in your pants. He is spoken for. The powers that be have matched Mickey and Night Hawk.” Spirit Bear squatted down until he was eye level with Mickey.

“Here you go my young doe. A special gift for the tribe’s next seer and priestess. I am honored to give it to you.”

“Oh thank you Santa Bear. Can I open it now?’ The smile on Mickey’s face beamed more than any sunrise Spirit Bear had seen.

“Yes, young doe. Let’s see what you got.” Spirit Bear rose, motioning Danny forward. “Find a stool and bring it to me.”

Danny nodded and stepped behind the decorated tree. As he bent down to retrieve the stool, he heard rustling. Looking up, his eyes meet Night Hawk’s. Danny nodded. Night Hawk stared and looked away.

Danny picked up the stool and returned to where Spirit Bear and Mickey waited. “Here you go Mickey. I think this is a good place to set you and your box so you can open it easily.”

Spirit Bear nodded, his gazed never straying far. He could feel Night Hawk’s eyes on them. Even now, the youth laid claim to the budding young woman Mickey was becoming. Within a few years, their union would produce a new leader and powerful mage. Trueborn shape shifters were rare outside his tribe. Few knew of their existence. Too bad the Tiger Yakooza were ones who did.

Danny reached down and lifted Mickey. Power surged up his arms and enveloped him before oozing out across the crowd and dissipating. He placed Mickey gently on the stool. As he turned to retrieve her gift, he caught Night Hawk moving forward with the box in his hands.

Spirit Bear touched Danny on the shoulder. “Come my young one, let the two be. I have something for you.”

Danny watched as Night Hawk set the box on Mickey’s lap. His attentiveness and caring touches made Danny’s heart ache. He needed someone to care for him, like. . .

“Wait one damn moment,” he spit out as he reached where Spirit Bear stood holding a colorful wrapped package.

“What is wrong my young pervert?’ Spirit Bear smiled and gazed intently at Danny.

“What the hell happened back there?” Danny folded his arms tight against his chest.

“What do you mean?” Spirit Bear sat in the chair next to the tree.

Danny opened his mouth to speak. Mickey’s joyful cry caught his attention.

“Look Night Hawk, an amethyst crystal and seer’s ball. Now my magic lessons can begin. With you helping me, I’ll be the best student and priestess in training.” Mickey leaned over and kissed Night Hawk on the cheek. Even through his paling tan, many could make out his blush.

“See my young one, love comes to many. Even those you think would not know it.” Spirit Bear thrust the package he held at Danny. “Even the powers that be gift many. Here is yours. What awaits you inside could change your fate.”

Danny hands shook as he untied the ribbon holding the package closed. Looking in side, he gasped. A peacock feather, a heart shaped medallion, and several strands of leather stood out against the colored cloth.

“The feather represents your rescue. The medallion is for your change of heart and the leather is well worn from use. Your Dominatrix will enjoy teaching you more humility.” Spirit Bear motioned him closer.

“Why more humility?” Danny wanted to drop the bag and run. Earlier in the evening, he detested spending time helping Spirit Bear hand out gifts and food to his tribe. Now---now he wanted to stay and enjoy the feeling of happiness and peace filling him. A sense of belonging and purpose began pulsing within him as well.

“Humility my young pervert is only the beginning. Tonight the power of love touched you. The simple joy of life and the richness of belonging cracked the ice surrounding your heart. Go and enjoy.” Spirit Bear pointed at the two minks standing apart from the rest of the shape shifters.

Danny inhaled. She smelled divine and the male smelled of rutting and horniness. A hot threesome might be in the offing. “I’m allowed to go and f---“Danny shut his mouth and swallowed.

“Yes, young one. Go and enjoy pleasure.” Spirit Bear chuckled as Danny scampered across the room clutching his bag.

“Now my spirit guides, show me where Josh is. Our leader’s son will soon need to lead his people.” Spirit Bear settled back in his chair and accepted the drink offered him.


Merry Christmas Everyone! May yours be merry, filled with cheer, love, and peace. Keep warm and share a good book or two with your spice.

Have a great weekend!


Friday, December 24, 2010

Christmas Eve Note To Talbot's Peak

Well it's Christmas Eve.  Yay!  I hope this year finds you all filled with love, hope and yummy treats.  :)

There will be no personals posted today as I'd rather fill this space with some fun holiday recipes perfect for any shapeshifter holiday party. 

Nick, of course does not know about the change as of yet, but by the time he does the print will be dry and the edition will be out.  Besides, he likes to have something to snarf at me about and I so enjoy watching that face of his turn beet red.

Without further ado I give you...

Rudolph The Red Nose Reindeer

Ingredients you need

1 1/4 oz. Light Rum
1 1/2 oz. Lemon Juice
1/2 oz. Grenadine

How to make a Rudolph The Red Nose Reindeer
Mix the light rum, lemon juice, and grenadine. Add the ice cubes and fill to your own taste with Cranberry juice. Add a wedge of lemon on your glass and voila! Enjoy!

Type of drink

Recommended glass
Highball Glass


Frosty Noggin

Ingredients you need

1 1/2 oz. Rum
3/4 oz. Creme de Cacao
3 oz. Eggnog
3 cup Vanilla Ice Cream

How to make a Frosty Noggin
blend ingredients until smooth, pour into parfait glass, top with whipped, cream decorated with a few drops of green creme de menthe, garnish with rolled cookie

Type of drink

Recommended glass
Parfait Glass

Oh and one final thing before I mosey on down to the presses to get this on the page.  Anyone out there who sees or comes in contact with Little Johnny Shapeshifter please note this year's poem for his Christmas card...

Pushing through the crowd

Deer scent on the rise
Up on stage we spy
Oh look at that doe's thighs
Bells on tassels ring
Making spirits bright
My loins will learn to laugh and sing
If she joins me tonight

Oh, jingle bells, beta's smell
Alpha's get the chicks
Females whine instead of dine
Upon my great big d....

Word to the wise Little

Merry Christmas Talbot's Peak

~ Zeva

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Happy Festivus Eve!

Hi and welcome to your Wednesday fix of ShapeShifter Seductions! Happy Festivus Eve! For those of you who either didn't get into Sienfeld or have never had the joy of a close friendship with someone who was/is, Festivus is a non-commercialized secular holiday that was featured in a Seinfeld episode way back in 1997. I, a woman who seldom watches TV, adored the show. And I can't help but think that Fesivus would probably a big hit with the secrecy-loving shape shifters of the world. In honor of that, I bring you some Festivus themed entertainment.

The eye candy, by the way, is a new and improved 3D render of Damien.

A convicted drug dealer successfully lobbied to have a kosher meal served to him because he is an observer of Festivus. Not sure how a secular tradition would save him from eating the salami meals everyone else stay-cationing in the Orange County jail. I’m not sure which bugs me worst: that a judge actually OK’d this or that it took the county two months get the goofy court order thrown out. Things that make you go????????

The good folks in Illinois decided to settle the age old dilemma of Christian Christmas theme buy erecting a Festivus pole right next to the nativity scene at the Illinois state capitol. This in no way amused the committee that was setting up the nativity scene right next to the location the Festivus pole was being set up. Calm down folks. You may not like the Festivus holiday but it could have been worse. Someone could have set up a Flying Spaghetti Monster display…

Sorry this is such a short blog, but I just had to add the top three shape shifter Festivus songs- embedded, of course- and I didn’t want to make a forty-nine ba-jillion pare r-mail. Which reminds me: we now have a form at the top of the page where you can sign up to have just-published post sent right to your in-box. We also a new have a Face Book fan page. Come on by and give us a shout out!

The top three all-time favorite shape shifter Christmas/Festivus songs of all time:

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Winter Solstice Howls and Investigating the Tiger Yakuza

Winter Solstice howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers... oh, yes! It’s been overcast all day. However, the clouds just thinned enough to see an early stage of the lunar eclipse. Almost straight overhead Luna is about a third of the way in shadow. She is looking lovely and mystical.

Here we are at a cosmic turning point. This marriage between the Winter Solstice and a Lunar Eclipse will bring forth, and unite, the feminine and masculine energies in a whole new way. These new dynamics will, in time, change the entire landscape of how women and men relate to each other. For the better.

It will also change how we view ourselves. Given we are composed of both feminine and masculine energy...we are yin and yang...those opposites inside us will become understood at a higher level. And we will use this higher understanding to express ourselves in powerful ways.

White Fang Kent, Investigating the Tiger Yakuza

White Fang balanced himself on the narrow ledge outside of Damien Hancock’s mountainside mansion. Watching the eye glints of Hancock’s pack sentinels, he avoided detection as he inched toward the large office window, designed to look down upon the town of Talbot’s Peak.

Despite their hot and panting passion for each other -- despite the fact he’d been about to crush Pasha’s lush mouth beneath his for the first time -- her magick eye had suddenly manifested between them.

Both of them stilled, mesmerized by the golden brilliance rotating before their gazes. Even as the eye pulsed, its radiance almost blinding, Pasha continued sensually stroking his back. White Fang kept her tight against him, his palms filled with her firm blatant ass.

“Watch,” she murmured. Lifting her hand, she brushed it with her fingertips.

Compelled by the scene captured within the magically formed eye, White Fang focused. Several of the Yakuza ran the forest as tigers.

He felt Pasha go rigid for several seconds. Spinning out of his arms, she swiftly changed into outdoor gear.

Silently taking hold of his hand, his goddess seductress swept her hand in a circle. She led him through a phase portal, then unerringly wove them through the dense forest.

Once they arrived at the exact spot he’d seen, she followed a glistening ribbon of light to its endpoint. Halting them inside a stand of saplings, she faced him and whispered, “This is where I first caught sight of Khan’s seven sons. Their lair must be close.”

Despite his fierce-humping need for her, White Fang managed to single out each Tiger’s faint scent. It didn’t take him long to memorize the seven unique, but similar smells of Khan’s cubs.

Somehow, he’d convinced Pasha to return with him to Dante’s pleasure club instead of hunting them down. Before he departed, intent on investigating the Tiger Yakuza’s every move, Pasha had grabbed hold of him molding her sex-kitten curves to his body.

Seductively sinking her fingers into his hair, she fisted. As she passionately brought his mouth to hers, her hunger sizzled every nerve he owned. The kiss she laid on him still singed his lips and banged his balls.

White Fang scanned for Hancock’s prowling sentinels as he braced himself against the window’s prominent frame. Still unseen, he turned up his super hearing.

Seconds later, White Fang nearly choked. Tears sprang to his eyes. Lykouz! Sure hell enough, the tangy, incense-saturated odor of Shere Khan’s third son might as well have fang-clamped around his throat.

He’d caught Tasman’s scent from his den lookout, close to the Tiger Yakuza’s base of operation. After rapidly shifting to his human form, White Fang had jerked on his chameleon suit. Like a second skin, the suit altered to match his surroundings, and also obscured his scent.

Charging to superspeed, White Fang followed a shortcut up the peak. Now his hunch, backed by investigation, proved out.

Obviously, at some time in the past, Damien Hancock had joined his unsavory paw with the Tiger Yakuza. Otherwise, the so-called Lord Khan would never have sent his son to arrange another ‘understanding’.

White Fang tamped down his sense of smell, and pressed his ear against the rock wall. What he heard confirmed every suspicion and more, so much leaping-over-tall-buildings more.

The Tiger Yakuza also wanted his hide nailed to the wall. No Great Caesar’s Ghost surprise to him. For an instant White Fang grinned at himself. He had to like the Superman character, given their similarities.

Preparing to slip away, White Fang debated with himself. Should he track Devon down first? Protect him from the slice and dice claws of the Yakuza? Or, should he contact Brand first, let his long-time friend know...

“What the dog-damn fuck!” Damien bellowed.

Before White Fang whipped forward and dived, he caught sight of the dirty-paw tyrant’s enraged face. His muzzle had popped out, his whiskers flattening as he bared his teeth.

Righting himself, White Fang spun in the air like an ice skater. With ease, he lessened his falling speed, then landed on top of Damien’s spit-shiny limousine. Above the resounding thud, he heard Hancock barking orders.

“Rip that son of a gamma bitch apart. I want his scat balls hanging on my trophy wall.”

With a pack of slavering werewolves racing toward him, White Fang grabbed the keys from the chauffeur’s furry clawed hand. Leaping inside the limo, he slammed the door, started the engine, and stomped on the accelerator.



Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Monday, December 20, 2010

Your Monday Wake-Up Call, and This Week's Episode

Here's a little something to get the blood flowing on a Monday. It was also my inspiration for the M/M vampire story Siren just accepted. They’ve mentioned a May 2011 e-pub date. I haven’t even gotten the contract yet, so it’s way too soon to post excerpts. I’ll start pushing those closer to release day, along with a new blog, probably on the thin line between inspiration, homage and plagiarism.

This is the same story I blogged about last January. Yeah, I know. I write slow. I’ve reposted the blog over on Title Magic ( for anyone who’s interested and doesn’t want to go digging for it. That picture up there is indicative of what I had going on in my head over most of this year. Writing is the greatest profession ever.

Note to Rebecca: in last week’s ep I mistakenly had Marissa working in a bar. She works in a coffee shop. My bad. It won’t happen again.

And now, on to this week’s installment.


The gamma-rank maid stood in the doorway, eyes submissively lowered. “Mr. Tufts has arrived, sir.”

Damien Hancock didn’t turn from the window. His den high up on the side of Talbot’s Peak afforded him a view of all that was his, and all that should have been his. He refused to look to the west. The Waynes held that, dog-damn their little bat dingles. Not for long, by Lycaon. Not for long.

“Show him in,” he ordered.

The maid’s feet whispered over the carpet as she withdrew. Presently another set of footfalls shushed across the shag. Damien let the stripy scat get settled before he turned to face him. Of course the feline flea-bus would pick his favorite chair. Any little thing to piss him off.

Without preamble the tiger announced, “Lord Khan requests a favor.”

“I’ll just bet he does,” Damien growled. Change “request” to “demand” and you’d be biting closer to the throat. Damned Tiger Yakuza, thought they owned the world. Well, they didn’t own Damien Hancock, and they wouldn’t own Talbot’s Peak. “And what can a werewolf do for the illustrious Shere Khan?”

“We’ve encountered a minor difficulty,” the cat said. “A reporter. White Fang Kent. His investigations into our activities have become annoying. We want them stopped.”

“And Khan can’t handle that himself? Maybe the old cat’s claws aren’t as sharp as he says they are.”

The tiger growled softly. “You have power in this sector, and in this instance we prefer to remain anonymous. Lord Khan thought you’d welcome the chance to repay us for services rendered.”

Right. That. Biggest mistake of his life. He should have gone after the Waynes himself and not hired outside help. He’d figured with Johann out of the way the Wayne land would fall to the pack. Only Brand and not that psycho Jack had taken over, and the whelp had proven tougher than the sire.

Now the dog-damned kittycats figured they had their claws in him. Well, hump that. “Listen, Tony – ”


“The Hancocks don’t play lapdog to the Tiger Yakuza, and I don’t run errands for cats. You take that back to your boss.”

The tiger shrugged carelessly. “As you wish. Where would you like the body delivered?”


“Of Devon. Your heir.”

Damien bared his teeth. His body quivered on the verge of shifting to wolf. “If Khan so much as twitches a whisker – ”

“You’ll do nothing. You’ll be in the pound, serving time for the murder of Johann Wayne.”

“I had nothing to do with that.”

“So everyone believes. That belief will change once certain facts are brought to light. Kent is on the trail of those facts. If he were to be driven off the trail it would be in everyone’s best interests, yes?”

Damn them. Damn their stripy hides and kittycat smugness. Damn him, for thinking he could deal with scat like the Yakuza and walk away clean.

The tiger rose with elegant grace. “I’ll leave you to make the arrangements. We expect the matter to be settled by the time of Devon’s party. Lord Khan sends his regrets that he cannot attend. However, a representative will be on hand. We’ve taken an interest in Devon. He’s a cub of much potential.”

“You leave him alone!”

“That’s no longer possible. Lord Khan has given orders.” The tiger bowed. “I’ll see myself out. Always a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Hancock.”

Damien ground his teeth and held himself back from charging the uppity cat. Tony there was only an errand boy. The real enemy crouched in the dark, beyond the reach of the pack.

Or maybe not.

He bellowed for the maid. She arrived in a blink, with her head tipped slightly to show her throat, just to be on the safe side.

“Have the car brought around,” Damien barked. “I’m going out.”

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Can One Plus Two Equal Three?

Our cast grows by another person:

Josh Branston (Mixed Mutt Heritage)-He's loved Anthony for almost as long as he's known him. Anthony rescued Josh from life on the streets and brought him into the pack. Due to Josh's mixed heritage and unknown origins, his stature within the pack would be little more than tolerated if he wasn't part of Anthony's extended family and his second in command. Josh has never been jealous of the women in Anthony's life until Tory. Josh wants the passion and tenderness Anthony gave him before a huge part of his heart filled with the one woman Josh finds himself equally attracted to. Can two become three in love?

Josh cracked the pencil he held in two as he slammed it against the bar. Anthony’s where?

Two sets of eyes watched as Josh clenched his hands and closed his eyes. His ragged inhales emphasized his muscular chest and biceps. Anyone near him could feel the heat and anger rolling off him. Sally, the evening barkeep, and Rocky, the bouncer, moved back as Josh rose from behind the bar.

“He took off with a woman who fell in the parking lot two days ago. We’ve had a couple of phone calls from him stating he’d be in touch. Said to tell you, he’d text you when he got a chance.” Sally edged her way past Rocky.

“Come on boss,” Rocky started. He shut his mouth and swallowed hard. Josh’s glare and snarl sent blasts of cold air through out the room. “I’m tightening my lips and shutting them.” Rocky backed toward the exit leading to the office hallway and rear door.

“Stand still you two,” Josh ground out. “Why did Anthony talk to you and not me?”

“I can’t say.” Sally shrugged and looked away. “Anthony does what he wants. I don’t ask questions. I get paid to serve drinks and condoms. Rocky gets paid to keep the peace and make sure no one drives drunk.”

“I know what your jobs are. I hired you and made up your job descriptions.” Josh sighed and combed his fingers through his hair. “Get out. Go home. Tomorrow is another day.”

Sally stopped at the doorframe. “Josh, I wish I could help. But, Anthony doesn’t say much. He keeps to himself. You’re the only one he says much too.”

Rocky pointed to the shelves behind the bar. “I found your cell phone unplugged. Dead battery too. It’s charging. I hope you get a text soon.”

Rocky grabbed Sally’s wrist and pulled her through the door.

Josh leaned his elbows on the bar, burying his face in his hands. He blinked, trying to not give into the tears stinging his eyes. Frustration and angst worked intricate knots and lattice arrays in and out of his gut and up into his heart.

Raising his head, he glanced around the bar. N one remained except him. He reached below the bar.

A shot glass and a bottle of 100-year-old scotch appeared on the bar. He waved his hand and spoke. “Pour with ice.”

Two ice cubes filled the glass as the bottle rose. Its cork popped and floated down to the bar. The glass moved across the bar and caught the amber liquid as the bottle titled. Moments later the bottle settled upright next to the cork.

Josh grasped the glass, swirling its contents. He intently studied it as though he could see something. Taking a deep breath, he pressed a finger to the glass and began chanting.

“Show me what I wish to know. Let the one I seek to see know not that I watch and hear all that he does whether far or near.”

Holding the glass at eye level, Josh continuing slowly swirling the ice and scotch as he repeated his chant two more times. On the third repetition, he hissed and set the glass down. “Damn you Anthony. A friggin’ woman. You swore this time it was you and I. Just you and I.”

Josh leaned down as the view of the woman began clearing. Her shoulder length brunette hair and brown eyes belonged to only one female, Tory Griswald. The grace of her milk white shoulders and neck teased at what the rest of her looked like.

Josh grabbed his wrist to keep from flinging the glass against the wall. “He’s with her. The bitch. Why couldn’t he tell me?”

Two loud beeps echoed from the shelves. Josh watched as his hand trembled as he sat the glass down. Turning, he located where his cell phone sat, lighting up each time it beeped.

He unplugged the phone and flipped it open. It showed three text messages waited. The first referenced Anthony’s number. Knowing he shouldn’t give into his growing curiosity, Josh opened the first message.

Hon, I’m sorry about this. Tory needs me. We’ve got some unfinished business to resolve. I’ll call you in a day or two. Love you!

“Right, you love me when it’s convenient.” Josh raised his thumb ready to delete the message when the voice mail icon appeared. What could it hurt to hear what bullshit Anthony had come up with now?

Josh, I wish you’d answer your phone. Damn it stop avoiding me. I can’t explain everything in a 30-second blip. Tory’s hurt and I’m with her. Call me, please.

Josh replayed the message. He counted to ten and hit save message before reading the rest of the text messages from Anthony. A few moments later, Josh downed the contents of the shot glass and re-corked the bottle. He sat it carefully beneath the bar.

He wished Tory no harm. She’d gotten a large chunk of his heart too about the same time Anthony had gotten his portion. Both of them filled his heat though neither knew it. Maybe the time had come to fess up and see if sharing was an option.


Whoa talk about a new twist! Josh seems intent on being heard and getting his share. I'm just as curious as you to see where this leads next. Danny also appears to be in trouble and needs to gather patience. Who'll be up next is only known by the muse....she's got something cooking.

Snow fell and the temperatures have gone way cold. Time to light the fire, bundle up with your sweeties, and let the imagination fly.

Have a great weekend!


Friday, December 17, 2010

Tongue Definitely Included!

“Freedom! Sweet, sweet freedom,” Penelope mumbled as she pushed her way through the hoards of people disembarking from their respective planes. She was so thoroughly disgusted with the level of incompetence she’d just suffered through at the hands of this airline, that the thought of actually getting back on a plane anytime soon turned her stomach. Spilt wine, thank the gods it was white, on her cheerful yellow frock. Possible broken toes and a disastrous rip in the purple leather of her lovely boots, from when said wine bottle was dropped on her foot, and a near concussion from a fellow passenger’s carry-on, which she was sure, must have been loaded down with something wholly inappropriate for an airplane flight. “First class, my ass.”

Worse still was Webster, call me ‘Tex’, something or other, sitting next to her, and for hours on end regaled her with his sexual prowess. Honestly, the man resembled a weasel in every way and expected her to believe he had to beat the ladies off…please. She’d tried to let him down nicely at first, but to no avail. Before they’d landed she’d put it to him straight with a no nonsense “shut the heck up” but still he continued. Once they were fully on the ground, she’d beat a hasty retreat and raced off the plane, but by the smell of his bathed in cologne he was not far behind.

“Pru’dance,” Weasel boy’s deliberate mispronunciation of her name, as he hollered at her from across the terminal, sent frizzles of anger and disgust up her spine. “Hey Pru’dance.”

“Oh buzzards breath,” Penelope moaned, as a group of tourists boxed her in. She needed a way out of this and quick. Note to self, sign up for those self-defense classes you keep meaning to take.

A streak of blue, a dark and gorgeous blue belonging to an equally, if not more gorgeous man, passed by her. He too appeared to be slowed by the tourists and families headed for the door, and thankfully so, because he had exactly what she needed—six foot something of obvious muscle and no lovely lady on his arm. With Weasel boy getting closer, she made a spur of the moment decision. She elbowed her way through the crush of people, grabbed a hold of his buttery, and oh gasp nearly orgasmic, leather coat; turned him around and threw herself into his arms.

“Hello Lover, you almost missed me,” She said loudly enough for Webster “Tex” weasel boy to hear before she laid upon this dazzling display of testosterone the sexiest kiss in her arsenal—tongue definitely included!

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Avatars And Bad Christmas Headlines

Hi and welcome to your Wednesday fix of ShapeShifter Seductions! I am almost a-twitter today. I made my very own avatar for one of my minor characters. The fine male specimen pictured is Damien, an Earth spirit. You'll meet him in "Equal Partners," the next installment of my Wild Lords series. It's tentatively scheduled for release next month, though I don't have a specific release date yet. Please pardon the impromptu bathing suit. I'm too cheap to buy a pre-made garment from one of the 3D stores and the undies that come with the free models are UGLY. Damien does not have a major part in the series so I figured the least I could do was make him a kick-ass avatar, barring figuring how to work him into another story, of course.

And now onto the news!

A hit-and-run by a city bus in Illinois killed a snowman. There was no logical explanation for how the snowman ended up in the middle of the road at night without proper supervision. No charges are in the works for the snowman’s maker, but the bus driver, who was filmed swerving specifically to hit the golum, did end up resigning after her employer found out. Yes, I called the snowman a golum, for what else would one call a being made of natural elements. You certainly can’t call him a person and “it” sounds too disrespectful a thing to call the victim of a hit-an-run incident.

All puns aside, I decided to add this story to my blog mainly to get the word out: while this was funny-and it was- it was also potentially very dangerous. Putting a large obstacle in the middle of a snow packed road falls squarely under the heading of “things even a ten-year-old should know better than to do.” Should the bus driver have lost her job over this? Sure. She swerved recklessly on a dark, icy road specifically to hit an obstruction. Just because it was a snowman and not a box or something doesn’t make the act any less dangerous. What if there had been a person behind it? What if parts of the snowman had gone flying into the path of an on-coming car or slammed into someone’s livingroom window? Not so funny now, is it?

Now, on to some fun, harmless Christmas news. Santa’s elves came together last week to support suicide prevention! The largest gathering of elves in the world assembled in Bridgend, Wales. Over eight-hundred showed up, breaking the previous record which had been set in New York, NY. This assembly was reported by some sources to be especially notable because nobody died. Bridgend is apparently best known for it’s extremely high suicide rates this time of year. The elves may have been seeking publicity rather than trying to help society, but that’s what they did, so I’m running with it.

To round off this week’s blog, a skunk snuck in the toy barn in Oklahoma while the elves were away at their gathering and sprayed $16,000 worth of gifts intended for needy children. There is no freaking way this was accidental. Pepe LaPew is the only skunk in history that wandered around stinking things up wily-nilly. Real skunks only spray when they are frightened. There isn’t much scary about hundreds of childrens’ toys wrapped up and ready to be loaded on Santa’s sleigh.

Here’s my theory of how it really went down: the elves higher a skunk to guard the not-so-secret stash while they played hooky in Wales. Someone with Bad Intentions toward Christmas tried to sneak in and steal the presents while they were away. Good news? The miscreant got nothing but a face full of skunk juice. Bad news? The skunk wasn’t a good aim- no one really wants the gifts now…

That's about it for this week's news. Have a wonderful, safe Festivous season, folks!


Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Dante and Kitty ~ Unrequited Shapeshifter Love

Seasonal howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers. With snowstorms playing monstrous villains this past week, I thought I’d use a snowfall to bring Dante and Kitty together, if only briefly.

Dante, Biker Alpha

Dante knows he’ll never be the werewolf son his top-of-the-pack sire wanted. That’s Devon, his brother’s role. He left Talbot’s Peak to protect the catwoman he loves. Now, he’s back. And while he’s looking for a way to win her heart again, and keep her protected, he intends to make his own alpha mark. As the secret owner of the Last Bite Lodge, Dante also owns the interspecies pleasure club hidden below.

Katrina ~Cat~ Collins, aka Kitty Kewtie

Katrina is the sweet little cat shifter who started it all with her letter to the editor. She is determined to recover from her devastating heartbreak, and continue on with her life. After a night of tender and wild passion between them, Dante swung astride his Harley and left town. Even though, she knew Dante needed time to become the alpha wolf he is now, Katrina wants nothing to do with him. So what, if she dreams about him every night.

Dante and Kitty ~ Unrequited Shapeshifter Love

Dante strummed the opening chords for the song he’d written about her. How many had he composed so far? He counted ten. He’d written about how much he loved her, and about her girl-next-door loveliness. About her eyes that were the clear blue of a mountain lake. Her eyes. She could always embrace his heart with her gaze.

His notes sounded sour suddenly, and Dante nearly threw his beloved guitar against the stone wall. Instead, he laid it aside, and leaped upward striding for his favorite window. Snowflakes danced on the winds preceding the blizzard he’d sniffed in the air, as he’d walked the short distance from his pleasure club.

Overtaken with restlessness, and the ache that too often consumed him, Dante stared into the depths of the evening forest. Where was she? His Kitty. His Katrina. Was she safe and warm, curled up before her blazing fireplace, holding a mug of catnip tea?

Or did she run and gambol in a forest clearing as she loved doing whenever a new snowfall began? That’s how Dante had first met her in her animal form. While hunting the vermin population that plagued his new den home, he’d come upon her.

Hidden by the trunk of a tall pine tree, he’d stalked her with his predator’s gaze as she playfully raced in circles. With utter joy, she threw her fluffy, yet sleek feline body forward, tumbling and rolling on the thin carpet of leaves and snow. Springing high, she batted at the flurry of snowflakes, her pale fur beautiful against the forest backdrop.

“Katrina.” Her name might as well have been every sad beat of his heart. How long he’d watched her Dante didn’t remember. But, he’d finally joined her by running pell-mell into the clearing.

His Kitty had froze, preparing to run for her life. Dante pretended to ignore her. Performing a series of jumps, he snapped at the large wet flakes. A fair distance from her, he had done his own playful rolling on his back. With his paws lashing the air in every direction, he exposed his belly to her.

Shyly, carefully, she played tag with him. They took turns chasing each other, circling the clearing. Toward the end of the game, they raced madly after each other, churning up the leaves so the bits clung to their coats.

Afterward, their pants steamed up the cold air as they romped with each other like cub and kitten youngsters. Wanting her to trust him, Dante hadn’t tried to wrestle with her. Not during that first meeting between them.

Groaning, Dante pressed his forehead against the cool window pane. He had plans to woo her, win his Katrina’s love again. But, it was a long range strategy that included a way to protect her from his sire.

Scat! He needed her now. Switching to his wolf vision, Dante watched small prey animals forage for their last bites of food, then burrow themselves into their warmest places to wait out the blizzard.

Before he knew it a howl ripped through his lusting loins, straight from the crown of his hard-as-a-log cock. The howl surged inside his throat with such force, he felt it burn. Dante tipped his head back and howled.

He hadn’t been able to shift first, so strong was his longing. Still, the mournful song came from his werewolf soul. And, he knew it also came from the taint his father concealed at all costs. There was full human blood in his lineage, only discovered by a fluke blood test done on Devon.

His cur-fool of a brother had drank himself into a stupor at a frat party, and been taken to a private shapeshifter clinic. Afterward, to his brother’s credit, Devon had bitten the silver bullet, becoming a top student.

Dante wondered how much his sire had paid to ‘retrieve’ those test results, and ‘whom’ he had paid off. During his own quiet investigation, he’d been relieved to find out no blood had been spilled and no one’s head had been fang-torn off over the matter.

To a werewolf pack that turned humans into their kind, it wouldn’t have been a concern. However, his ancestry began at the inception of Rome, originating from a mysterious sect of wolfen. Unlike some of his brethren werewolves, his bite didn’t turn humans.

Taking several steps back from the window, Dante tugged off his boots in record time, then stripped off his shirt and black leather pants. Naked, he ran for the ramp leading down to his den.

As he wound through the long tunnel toward his outside entrance, his shift occurred. His fur emerged, mere pricks of pain. His bones cracked and popped, the sound minimal and the transformation painless.

In under a minute, his skeletal structure became wolf, and so did the rest of his body. His claws scraped the rock as he sprinted. His ears folded flat against his head, seeking relief from the wind.

Bursting into the darkness of evening, he gave his tail a fast shake just to feel the length of it. His speed didn’t lessen. There was no need. The clearing, their clearing was less than a mile away as the crow flew.

Each time his paw pads struck the soft forest floor, the song of the Great Mother vibrated through Dante. And he listened, his wolf being singing with her for a time. Now, he cocked one ear, listening for the familiar gait of his Katrina Cat.

Having disconnected his mind from hers, except to keep her protected, Dante didn’t know where his Kitty was. He only knew he had to be with her, if only to catch a moment’s glimpse of her. Feline or woman, he didn’t care.

If she’d needed him because she was in trouble...or, if anyone planned to harm her, Dante would know her location instantly. It was how he’d been able to secrete his Kitty away to the cave where White Fang found her. That, and the magical elixir Pasha had given him caused him to be invisible.

Hope like love sank its fangs into him, and clamped down. Dante slowed, feeling the wet cold snowflakes softly strike his muzzle. With the clearing close now, he trotted toward the tall pine tree.

Empty. The clearing was as empty as his heart.

Dante ignored the dash of a rabbit, and sat next to the pine’s trunk, his rump collapsing beneath him. He stared at the empty clearing, whimpering. Unable to leave, he watched the thick snowfall cover the ground.

When a howl burst into his throat, he tossed his muzzle high...


With his interrupted howl almost choking him, Dante whipped around.

Kitty, his Katrina crouched behind a boulder about twice her size. She peeked around it, her eyes blue exotic gems in the darkness.

He didn’t move. Kitten, he paused, then dared, it is written.

For long moments neither one of them moved a muscle, not even to blink. Their gazes beamed into one another, the heart’s code, even if his Katrina didn’t know it. Even if she refused it.

Dante waited, knowing it was better if she did refuse him. For now. Still, feeling as if his life was held by a whisker, he waited.

Her sudden launch caught him off guard for a split second. Feline-lithe, she bounded toward him, tagging his shoulder with her nose.

You’re it, dog breath.



Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Monday, December 13, 2010

Payback's a Bitch

Marissa slammed the bar door closed and locked up. Damn that Lex and his cockeyed schemes. Spy on a wolf pack? Sure. She’d just waltz into Dante’s with her witchy scent blasting away like a neon sign, a huge flashing arrow that said “human.” Yeah, they’d take her in like a long-lost sister, if she lived through the first five minutes.

The alternative was dating Mooney. Poor puppy. Six phone calls and a text message, all with “mange” as the operative word. Served him right, running with a coyote. And this was her best source of info? Selene help them all, but mostly her.

“Hey, Blue! Heads up!”

Marissa turned, just in time to catch a face full of water balloon. It drenched her hair, skin and clothes. The man standing upright in the convertible hooted in triumph. The car sped off with the man still howling like a maniac.

Son of a bastard! Who the hell? He hadn’t gotten that drunk in HER bar. She blasted a curse in his general direction while searching for the words to the cleansing spell that would leave her dry and tidy again.

Wait. Wait just a cotton-picking minute. Her anger hadn’t even reached full boil yet when the stench hit. It seeped into her clothes and skin and especially into her nose. Its pungency indicated it intended to stick around a while. A long while.

Oh shit. This wasn’t water at all. It was –

Joker Wayne dropped back onto the passenger seat of Maggie’s convertible. He sniffed his fingers. “Eww! What’s that stink? That wasn’t water in that balloon, was it?”

“Water is so plebian,” Maggie said. “The Fulmers owed me a favor. Skunk shifters,” she explained. “There’s a jar of tomato juice in the glove box.”

Joker cackled. “Doll, I am loving you more by the minute.” He smacked the side of the car. “Can this crate go any faster?”

“Hang on.” Maggie floored it. The car sped into the night.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Sunday bonus post!

Burgess King, a Little Penguin from Phillips Island, Australia. A cop by trade, he has been working with the Elder Council to try and track down a series of unusual thefts: guardian spirits. He knows it is the Tiger Yakooza behind it but has no idea why they are stealing these ancient tutelary deities.


Burgess woke from his nap as the plane touched down. He lifted the shade on the window only to find a sea of darkness. That’s right. It was winter here in Alaska. Just like his native Australia, the days got shorter in the cool months. Unlike his home, though, Anchorage had days where the sun never shone in the deepest winter- this time of year, in fact. That was why the Elder Council had sent him and not one of the ‘roos or koalas. Not that he, as a Little Penguin, was going to fare much better. His species was not an artic one. But even warm climate penguins could handle cold and constant darkness better than most Australian shifter species.

The flight from Melbourne to Anchorage had been long and boring. Too bad it hadn’t also been unnecessary. The Elder Council of Phillips Island had received word from a spirit bear up here that may or may not offer information into the missing tutelaries, or guardian deities, of Australia and South Africa, though, so this trip was very necessary. By the sounds of it, the Tiger Yakooza slipped up when they brought old Tongson into the fray. No one in their right mind encouraged the Canadian Spirit Bears- they were brilliant and brilliantly good at figuring things out. They also tended to keep to themselves. Burgess grinned. He’d been looking into this for years, unable to figure out what the Yakooza were up to until that phone call from Tongson. He couldn’t wait to find out what the crotchety old spirit had discovered.

Burgess let the plane empty out before prying his six foot four frame out of the tortuously uncomfortable airline seat. He had almost flown in animal form for this very reason. As a penguin, he was only sixteen inches tall, weighting in at just over two pounds. As a human, he was built like an Olympic swimmer with massive shoulders and long limbs. His slate blue hair was almost the exact shade of his animal plumage and tended to stick out in every direction if he didn't keep it very short, and his smallish eyes were the same twinkling black of his bird. He didn’t think himself overly remarkable in looks, though he was aware than most human eyes, both male and female, followed him everywhere he went. He assumed it was because of his large, muscular body and not his slightly avian facial features.

He stopped suddenly at the end of the jet way. A vision of rainbow hued loveliness was shouldering her way past his gate, clearly coming from one of the other gates that was disgorging passengers in sluggish waves.

“My my my,” he said to himself. “How did a tropical flower like that end up in the frozen north?” He felt his cock stir to life at the sight and smell of her. Too bad he had a job to do, or he’d be chasing that little bit of fluff in a hurry. The years of hunting down the Yakooza had made his love life a living hell. And that one looked like the kind to make a male perfectly happy to be strapped down under her kinky little boot.