Tigress Shapeshifter... I am never sweet...

Pic from ~ http://sodahead.com ~

Yowsa, powsa, clawsa... SHE’S BACK... my Tigress Shapeshifter. She pounced on my writerly imagination very early Sunday morning as I fought off a painful infection... yeah, I’m much better. Since I’m allergic to all antibiotics, and have been for the past thirty plus years, I rely on supplements, and the Divine. However, using herbal/natural supplements takes a dedicated approach if you want results, which meant staying awake to make certain I took enough of them to be effective.

This1,000 word Flash Scene takes place prior to my Tigress Shapeshifter’s Earth mission while she is still on her homeworld. Kytaira is telling her side of the story about her bad boy hero, the black tiger, Zurroc.

~~~ x-rated language ~~~

Tigress Shapeshifter... I am never sweet...

I’m tired down to my bones from my last mission. Still, my muscles remain stalking-tense and I enter a nightclub in the Palace City known for its mellow jazz, it’s silky illumined interior and drinks that soothe the soul.

Like most of the other night prowlers, I choose to be both feline and human in appearance. Before selecting a place to lounge, I flick my tigress tail to the sassy roll of the music and saunter toward the libations cove, a subtly glistening affair that invites a liberation of mood.

“Cinvoness,” I say to the bartender, whom I well recognize from previous visits. Names are considered in bad taste, so I greet him with a wide smile, then lean toward him on my elbow. “Heavy on the chocolate...”

“And the cream,” he finishes. Giving me a lazy wink, he turns to fix my drink. His long striped tail sways to the soft swinging tempo, yet within the confines of his smallish area.

“Kytaira.”

At the sound of my name coming from his lips, I freeze as if dunked in a vat of liquid nitrogen. In the following seconds, I swelter as if I’ve just bounded miles through the jungle at the sun’s height. ‘Go away!’ I scream at him in my mind.

“I thought you were still on assignment.” Casually, I address him, only slightly angling my posture toward him when he moves beside me. Why the fricking full moon, did he have to smell potent enough to satisfy every carnal pleasure I’d ever fantasized about? “You know,” I continue, “on Armappo.”

That threw him, the black tiger. I wasn’t supposed to know ‘where’ he’d been sent on mission. From the corner of my eye, I watch his gaze slit and his eyes flame to yellow-gold before he settles against the bar as if I already belong to him.

“I’m told your results were excellent. One less would-be king on Nholycc to torment the populace.”

He seduces me with that slow-spreading grin of his that doesn’t quite ever become a smile. Even worse, his tail tip barely brushes mine, sending unwanted quivers of pleasure through me. I frown at the knowing glitter in eyes. I can’t help it. I’m too weary to play his fuck-me games.

“You win,” I snarl with my own brand of sarcasm. “Your intel is superior to my own.”

“There’s only one win I care about, sweet tigress.”

“I am never sweet.” I draw out each word, and flatten my ears for emphasis.

“Your curves are a sweetness to be slowly licked and savored.”

Plucking my drink out of the bartender’s grip the black tiger presents it to me. I snatch it from him in a pique of temper, and wish I could claw the glittering possessiveness out of his gaze.

Never mind that I actually like it. That alone scares the hide off me. Zurroc, the black tiger, has most likely lust-mated with every woman I know. Too often, I’ve been privy to their dreamy-eyed stories of every passion satiated. One thing the great lover, Zurroc, doesn’t know, his ability to pleasure me, then douse me with his breed’s ‘walk-away’ spray won’t work. My breed is immune. It’s a secret we keep so that an unwanted mate cannot lure any of us into a permanent mating with mere sex.

Eyeing him as if I only tolerate his presence, I take a long and languid sip of my drink, a perfect mixture of ingredients. “Aren’t you leaving now?” I ask, once I’ve licked my lips clean of cream and cocoa.

His eyes glint with assessment and amusement. “Are you ready to leave, my ferocious tigress?” The handsome bastard holds my gaze until he lifts a finger for service.

Despite my resolve, I notice the virile gleam of his ebony-furred ears as he turns his head, speaking with the bartender. Being a black tiger, his coat is the color of deepest night while his thin striping is russet and pale gold. I know. We’ve been on three assignments together and I’ve seen him as full tiger.

“I have no interest in entertaining your cock tonight, Zurroc. Didn’t your intel source tell you I’ve been ordered to recuperate?”

His gaze returns to me, fast. “No. Are you unwell?”

Somewhat stunned by the stark concern on his face, I merely stare at him and remain mute. That is, until I’ve indulged in another long sip. “Not unwell. I am damn exhausted.” I pause. “Now that you know...”

“Now that I know,” he interrupts, “I’ll massage every sweet inch of you and watch you enter slumber.”

I blink several times in astonishment. I’m certain I appear ridiculous. “And after slumber?” I grab another swallow of my drink as my own nerves sizzle down to my toes. Or, is it pure unadulterated desire crackling through my body like a laser stun weapon?

“We twine tails and mate with the fierce passion you want from me, my Kytaira.”

If I blinked before, now my eyes widen also...huger with each blink. “Arrogance is too small of a word for you, black tiger. A songbird beside the mountain-flying eagle.” I turn and face the bar, dismissing him.

My carnal flesh hasn’t dismissed him, though. I am fire for him, my thighs slick with the primitive need to roll in ecstatic passion. Only with him. Yep, and roar, I’d bet a week’s fresh meat he knows that. Unless he can’t scent.

I feel his movement as he bends close. He snuffles the nape of my neck so gently, I don’t whirl and claw. “Kytaira, beautiful woman, only my hands, my paws touching you, I promise.”

I don’t move, but I explode with ‘want’. Still, my pride prevails and I refuse to flip my ear when he growls, a low primal sound that makes everything inside me molten as flaming lava.

“No.” I clench my eyelids.

His hand flattens on the small of my back. His palm smooths up my spine, his fingers boldly massaging.
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The Kougar’s news and mews ~

If you’d like sneak peak of my cover art for BRANDED BY THE TEXANS, come on by the Title Magic blog ~ http://titlemagic.blogspot.com ~
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HAPPY SHAPESHIFTING SPRING

Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Author of ~

All Shades of Blue Paradise
Red Lioness Tamed
When a Good Angel Falls ~ In Print
Tangerine Carnal Dreams
Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis ~ In Print
Black Cat Beauty
Her Insatiable Dark Heroes ~ In Print
Stallion of Ash and Flame ~ In Print
Branded by the Texans ~ Coming in August 2010 from Siren-BookStrand
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