Sunday, October 31, 2010
Happy Halloween fellow shapeshifter and paranormal fans! I hope everyone is having a spooky and safe holiday and may your evening adventures include a run in with a real live shapely shifters of your own!! ;)
Now, do we have a treat for you!
The awesome Ashlyn Chase is here today to share with us witchly book recommendations and to give away a copy of her recent release, Strange Neighbors. Sweet!
Let's give it up for Ashlyn with a shapeshifter welcome...Rawr!
Book Recommendations from a Real, Live, Witch
By Ashlyn Chase
Yes, witches like to read too. In fact there’s such an abundance of reading material on the craft, I decided to write a short article about it.
My number-one most influential book would have to be Laurie Cabot’s “Power of the Witch.” It was the first book I read and it put me straight about the craft. There was something magical in that book. I was left with a beautiful feeling. A peace and calm about the craft came over me, and I knew I wanted to study this path and try walking it. That was seventeen years ago.
The second and third books that influenced me were both by Scott Cunningham. They were “A guide for the Solitary Practitioner” and “The Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs. “ He offers loads of information, practical advice, and a reality check once in a while.
Another book which influenced me because it taught me the proper and safe way to bind a person, was “Spells and How they Work,” by Janet and Stewart Farrar. Forget the movie The Craft. There’s a way to help those people who are bugging you most and get them out of your hair at the same time. Every resource should tell you the most important aspect of the Witch’s Rede is: Harm none.
Each of these books contributed certain vital bits of information passed on from long ago, and yet by themselves they are like a puzzle with only some of the pieces. My formal training with a high priestess, practice for a year and a day, plus further study were all important building blocks.
I was told by my first High Priestess not to read. It would only confuse me, she said. I agree there is contradictory material out there, but that doesn’t mean I can’t sort through it and choose what makes sense to me from each source. If you’re interested in learning more, I’d not only recommend the above books, but I’d caution you away from learning everything on the Internet. Find a mentor who can guide you. Magick is real and it’s not something to “dabble in.”
But even serious witches need to have a bit of fun, and I get mine by writing light, sexy, paranormal romances. Check out my latest novel, Strange Neighbors, and my website. http://www.ashlynchase.com/
When all-star pitcher and shapeshifter Jason Falco buys a small apartment building, he sees it not only as an investment but as a place to escape the demands of Major league baseball.
That is, until he meets his tenants—a sarcastic unemployed vigilante vampire; a wereraven with a morbid sense of humor; a super friendly salesman werewolf; and two witches with an owl familiar who work as phone sex actresses. Not to mention a ghost haunting the place and an all too human nurse he’d like to get to know better. But with all the hooting, howling and hollering going on, how’s an all American shapeshifter supposed to sweep a girl off her feet?
Publisher’s Weekly said “The good natured fun never stops.” Their review caught the eye of a Hollywood producer! And it has already been contracted for a Thai translation. Who knows how far it might go?
Now, let’s have a contest for a free copy! I’ll draw a winner at random from those who go to my website to send me an email via the Contact button.
And later, if you’re bummed out because you didn’t win, you can order a copy from Amazon, Barnes and Nobles or directly from my publisher here:
http://www.sourcebooks.com/products/romance/9781402236617-strange-neighbors.html Ask me for a signed bookplate. I’ll be happy to send you one (or three. This is the first book in a series.)
Or if you can’t afford $6.99, take this number to your library and ask them to order it.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
"Merilee, you know humans aren't safe to toy with." Crystal stomped her tiny frost covered feet along the branch, drawing her cloak tighter around her. "This lust you've got going is big trouble."
Merilee shook her head and pushed the few remaining leaves aside looking out across the open area near the housing complex adjacent to the woods edge. She'd caught his earlier movements as he fired up the hot tub. How delicious it would be sit in warm water and feel his nude body next to hers. Would his female mate share? Invite her to join them?
"Merilee, did you hear me?' Crystal flopped down on part of the branch closest to the tree, arranging her cloak around her. Blowing in her hands, she chafed them before tucking them deep within the folds of cloth around her.
"Crystal, how could I not hear you? Your high pitch fussing is enough to ice even Jack Frost's desire." Merilee drew her gaze toward the patch of light coming from the window nearest the door she'd last seen him enter.
"You're going to go through with it. Aren't you?" Crystal's whining and plaintiff huffiness weren't changing anything. Merilee knew what she wanted.
"Yes, I am." Merilee closed her eyes and let her mind replay her recent encounter with him.
He lay nude on a towel draped across a lawn chair. His legs sprawled open showing his balls and cock off very nicely. His tone arms and chest made her tingle. Very little hair adorned his chest. Not that she minded. His nipples peaked as a chilled breeze moved over them.
Next to him lay two open magazines. They bright colors and flashy pictures peaked her interest.
Did she leave the shadows of the shade and chance a few moments of sun to catch a view of what he looked at? She wished she could move about freely in the light, instead of being confined to the twilight and night.
As if Gaea and her consorts heard her plea, clouds covered the sun. Merilee dashed out from her cover and hovered above the paper. She gasped as she moved closer. Pictures of nude men and women engaged in various sexual activities greeted her.
No bigger than a gnat in her minute form, he swatted at her. She dove under the lawn chair, hovering and waiting. Several moments passed before other delicious sensual noises filled the air. She flew high above him and paused.
His hands stroked down and across his cock moving lower toward his balls. One hand fell away, leaving his hard on open to the breezes blowing around and over the yard. Merilee licked her lips wishing she could taste the tantalizing morsel pooling on the tip. He reached toward one magazine turning page after page as he stroked, working each drop of moisture on and around his beautiful hardness.
A female voice called out. She teased him about his blatant desire, showing off to all who dared to look. He bantered back challenging her to join him.
"Blake, letting your exhibitionist side loose?" Her dark hair fell to her shoulders. Dark brown eyes and strawberry hued lips completed her facial features. Her light tan indicated she spent time with him out doors.
"Teresa, come and join me." He patted the edge of the chair.
Merilee gasped as her hands found her pebble hard nipples. The two below her kissed and caressed until Teresa mounted Blake riding him to two hard orgasms before he pulled her to him. Their passion caught Merilee off guard as swirls of heat and vocal bliss rolled them, pouring out into the late afternoon air.
A loud crash and laughter broke through her thoughts. Fanning her face, Merilee turned toward the house. Two scantily clad humans dashed toward the steaming hot tub. She smiled at their whispered tones as they dropped their robes, splashing water over the sides as they slid into the warm water.
Crystal's soft snores told Merilee her supposed chaperone slept, oblivious to the couple a few feet away.
"Yes, Crystal. I've made up my mind." Merilee positioned herself, ready to join them when the moment presented the opportunity. Until then, she'd watch and wait. Pleasure didn't have to be hurried.
Hope the above piece warmed your first fall cool day or evening. Read a good book with someone you love. Two or three someones you love. The more the merrier I always say.
Friday, October 29, 2010
So, true story...
Last night, as I sat with my Darling Diva at a PTA sponsored Book Bingo, dinner(cheap pizza and a cookie) and pick up your fundraiser(of which one of the few things I bought is missing)...can you tell what kind of week it's been, I got to looking around the room at all of the little cuties costumes.
There were ninjas and witches, Princesses and Power Rangers, sports and rockstars...there was even a kid dressed as the grumpy old dude in the movie UP. Very cute. What was missing though were the animals.
Now as a kid, I would sometimes dress up as the famed black cat. Ah, how I loved that costume. In my own head, I was a shapeshifter, of course. Sometimes cat and sometime a sneaky(as cats are, you know) vixen.
But last night...No black cats!
Can you believe it! What happened to the animal/shapeshifter costumes out there? Do they not make them? Do kids prefer the store bought rather than making their own? Am I the only one who considered dressing up as an animal more like being a shapeshifter for Halloween(quite possible)
I did however see two animal costumes. Well two and a half, really. One was a sweet little white lamb and the other two...wait for it, A Queen bee and her cutie baby bee!! Oh she was so cute in her matching her mama costume! It surely would have won the best costume contest, if they'd had one.
Alas, that was it for animal/shapeshifter costumes, but I still have Halloween night to check out the goods...how many will I see on Sunday night as Darling Diva and I pass out candy? Trust me, I will be counting...and those with animal costumes might just get an extra piece of candy from me! muahahaha
Don't forget everyone...Ashlyn Chase is blogging here on Sun! Come see what she has to share about Book Recommendations from a Real life witch!
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Hi and welcome to your Wednesday fix of Shapeshifter Seductions! Rebecca here with a nice mix of oddities to tickle your pre-Halloween fancy. We have the 2010 Ig Noble Awards and a hot Aussie in a kilt playing “99 Red Balloons“ with a set of flaming bagpipes!
There isn't much shapeshifter in this week's blog and I must apoligize for that. I had planned on attending the MileHiCon this past weekend and getting some really good stuff for your reading enjoyment from some of today's hottest urban fantasy and paranormal romance authors. Unfortunately, my 14-year-old decided to regress about ten years and needed to have a supervised grounding. As a last minute blog, this one isn't bad, though.
It’s that time of year where the scientific community pokes a little fun at itself. A little background on the Ig Nobel Awards: it is an actual- and usually coveted- award handed out to scientist for conducting silly experiments that have practical applications in the real world. The yearly awards are presented by actual Nobel winners. This is also a time for the scientific community to make fun of people who did not set out to prove or disprove anything (BP won for proving water and oil do mix in the right setting). The picture, by the way, was from the awards ceremony for a 2009 winner who designed a bra that could double as a pair of gas masks in an emergency. The gentlemen pictured are all Nobel Prize winners. So without further ado, I present a few of my very favorites from this year!
BIOLOGY PRIZE: Libiao Zhang, Min Tan, Guangjian Zhu, Jianping Ye, Tiyu Hong, Shanyi Zhou, and Shuyi Zhang of China, and Gareth Jones of the University of Bristol, UK, for scientifically documenting fellatio in fruit bats.
This year, one of my favorite winners was the discovery that fruit bat ladies who give oral sex to their mates during intercourse got longer and more frequent nookie. I don’t even want to know why they thought to study this. I would be willing to bet, though, there are men everywhere who wish human ladies were flexible enough to give this a try. Maybe there is an adventurous were-wolf couple out there who’d be willing to give this a try?
PEACE PRIZE: Richard Stephens, John Atkins, and Andrew Kingston of Keele University, UK, for confirming the widely held belief that swearing relieves pain.
Have you ever stubbed your toe and started swearing? If you are lucky enough to have toes and be mobile, you probably have. Apparently someone in the egg-head set decided to find out if swearing actually did make him feel better, probably after his wife cussed him out for cussing in front of the children. I’m guessing at the cause, but considering it won a peace prize, I think it’s a safe bet. The scary part is, it does. But only if you are not a habitual potty-mouth.
CHEMISTRY PRIZE: Eric Adams of MIT, Scott Socolofsky of Texas A&M University, Stephen Masutani of the University of Hawaii, and BP [British Petroleum], for disproving the old belief that oil and water don't mix.
And people say that scientists are geeks with no sense of humor! This experiment was actually conducted ten years ago. The project was aptly called “Deep Spill JIP.” I’m sure everyone on the Gulf Coast agrees that deep water spills are, in fact, a big jip. Since BP wasn’t part of the original investigation, I’m guessing they were included for this summer’s continuation on the research.
And last but not least, my all-time favorite award:
PHYSICS PRIZE: Lianne Parkin, Sheila Williams, and Patricia Priest of the University of Otago, New Zealand, for demonstrating that, on icy footpaths in wintertime, people slip and fall less often if they wear socks on the outside of their shoes.
All righty then. This is my all-time favorite because it never fails, the first snow of the season, I slip and fall on my ass. Last year, I managed to do it at a gas station and freaked out a Denver cop who thought I’d lost my mind when I started giggling. Thanks to this ground braking research, this year I can avoid tumbling into the snow and still make the cop think I’ve lost my mind.
The best part of this research, though, was the phraseology of it. They conducted the tests using “different colored socks on the outside of the footwear or unadulterated footwear.” Unadulterated? Really? Were they using stripper shoes? And the mental imagery of it. How exactly did they recruit test specimens for this? Or did they just wait at the bottom of a slippery hill and ambush people who fell? “Dude, you wouldn’t have slipped if you had been wearing your socks on the outside… Want to give it a go?”
In honor of that novel experiment from Down Under, I present another novelty from Down Under: a fourth generation Australian of Scots descent who got back at his Da for making him learn the bagpipes… buy making the ‘pipes into a punk phenom. The entire clip is hilarious, by the way. Well worth sitting through all of it.
That’s all for this week. Have a safe and fun Samain folks. I’m off to buy me a bright red gas mask bra. It costs about the same as any quality bra so why not?
Happy Halloweek, Shapeshifter Lovers... yes, I saw that phrase on another author’s chat loop post and grabbed it. That’s *one*, just one of the secrets to writing good fiction. Steal, steal, steal, as on of my college writing professors was fond of saying.
No, don’t plagiarize, of course! But, if you see a description or a phrase that calls your name, make it your own, and add your own twist. After all, the bard, Shakespeare supposedly practiced that religiously... whoever Shakespeare really was, or was not?
Okay, then, during these wild and crazy, wearing-a-costume days, the bad girl comes out in me. More than at any other time of the year. So, yes, I’m going to pilfer from our very own Pat Cunningham for my Halloween Flash by using her first tip “to get you through All Hallow’s Eve”.
“What do you want, bat boy?”
“Damn, no. Not what I need.” Karoline scowled as the traffic light turned red.
She nearly uttered a quick spell to change it. But, instead hit the brakes hard. There’d been a rain shower earlier in the evening and her tires skidded a bit.
Once Karoline came to a full stop, she glared at the ticket camera. “I’m making it my business to fry your circuits. Tomorrow.” Gripping her steering wheel mercilessly, she muttered, “I should have been speeding, I would have made the effing --"
Smack! Crunch. The loud dull sound that meant another vehicle had struck her bumper charged through her an instant before her car rocked back and forth like a boat.
“What the freaking crap now?” With anger streaking down to her toes and blazing out the top of her head, Karoline threw open the door.
Blown by the strong gusting winds, wet autumn leaves struck her face, and glued themselves to her black velvet cape. Hiking her gown’s voluminous skirt, she launched outward. Her loose hair danced wildly, the strands slapping her cheeks. Heedless of any danger, Karoline marched toward the back of her car.
“Oh, wonderful, some prize idiot thinks he really is Batman.”
For a split second, Karoline hesitated taking in the futuristic, sleekly styled, black-as-midnight car. “At least, whoever, might be rich enough to pay for the damage. If not, I’ll add his ‘bat wings’ to my cauldron, and throw some gasoline on the flames.”
“Please, beautiful witch, not my bat wings.”
Startled that he’d heard her since he appeared to be coffin-sealed inside his bat car, Karoline was even more taken aback by the rich-as-dark-chocolate timbre of the man's voice.
Still, propelled by pure fire, she firmed her chin and approached as he rose upward. Good Goddess did he ever quit? Apparently not. He had to be well over six feet. Agile as a ballroom dancer, he stepped from behind the door’s long gleaming curve, and closed it with an elegant flick of his wrist.
Her head tilted backwards at a ridiculous angle just to see his face, and Karoline stopped in her tracks. Not that she could see his features since they were shadowed by the large cowl of his vampire costume. “What?” she snapped. "No bat wings springing up. Just a regular door.”
“I must apologize for our abrupt meeting. However, it seemed the only certain way to gain your attention.”
“Attention!” Karoline sputtered, burning at the stake of her own fury. “You run into my car to get my attention. Unbelievable.” Letting go of her skirts, she balled her fists. “One good aim,” she derisively muttered.
“Ah, yes, your athletic spunk is quite renowned within my circle.” He took a courtly step toward her. The unusual glitter of his pale eyes had her taking a mental step back. “I recall,” he suavely continued, “betting on you to win the cage match --"
“How did you...?” she interrupted. “No one knows about my fights.” Jerking in several breaths, Karoline assessed him. “Except my manager...because...”
“Yes, Jahrundi. Because he is your kind.”
Once she’d absorbed the shock, Karoline countered by narrowing her eyes. “What do you want, bat boy?”
She caught the hint of a smile before he lowered his head. He swept downward, and bowed in some sort of French, old-fashioned manner. At least, from the period epic movies she’d seen, that’s how it appeared.
Rising with more elegance than any man had a right to, he extended a card. When she didn’t take it, he deftly slipped it inside a vest pocket. “Ah, yes. One never knows the sorcery that could imbue a card of introduction. Is that not so, my beautiful Egyptian cat?”
A growl rumbled up from her belly, but with practiced ease, Karoline kept her cat from clawing its way out, and leaping for his oh-so debonair throat.
“I am Viscount Zavoyon Dicarlo, recently of Vhulferth Court.”
Ignoring his sinfully sexy voice, Karoline arched her brows high. “Not Count Dracula?”
“Would you like me to be Count Dracula on this All Hallow’s Eve?”
Her heart stopped and started, all while it felt like bats flapped their wings in the belfry of her loins. Damn! That was so not a good sign.
“I have a date. And I’m late. No thanks to you.” Noticing she stood on the balls of her feet, Karoline clicked down on the moderate heels of her witch shoes, as she called them. “I asked you a question. Viscount,” she enunciated snarkily.
“Indeed, may I address you as Karoline?”
He leaned forward ever so slightly, and Karoline suddenly had a full view of his face. She swallowed, hiding her gasp of appreciation. He certainly looked like some otherworldly immortal designed to excite a woman’s deepest passions.
“Oh, great, the tall, dark and mysterious Viscount, knows my name.” Shaking her head vigorously, Karoline sought to fling her hair back, now plastered to her face by a blast of wind.
“I must insist on escorting you out the arriving storm.” He offered his arm.
Gripping a swathe of her hair, Karoline stared at him as both of their capes billowed and whipped around them.
“Insist all you want. You know what. I’m leaving now.” She took several steps backward and prepared to dash to her car. Already drops of rain pelted her. Worse, he pelted her with those eyes that reminded her of perfectly cut peridot.
“I am in need of your assistance in removing a particularly vile curse from my sister.” His arm remained in position.
Karoline heaved in a breath, then shoved it out as fast. He didn’t lie. Not that she could tell, and she was good at knowing lies. Very good.
“Find another witch. I promised to help a friend tonight. I don’t break promises.”
Thinking she’d convinced him since he remained silent, Karoline pivoted toward her car door.
The name of the warlock shapeshifter who had almost possessed her sister’s soul caused Karoline to spin around. With her heart tripping painfully, she gazed at him. Keeping his arm in position, he approached her with the arrogant assumption that he had won her over.
“There is no need to break your promise. I will act as your date. Then we will depart for Vhulfeth Court.”
“I told you, Viscount. I already have a date.”
“Shall I use my powers of persuasion to dismiss him?”
Karoline gaped for a moment. Then, the force of a bonfire filled her, and livid, she snarled, “Bite me.”
“Never tell a vampire, ‘bite me’.”
He hauled her against him, his mouth crushing hers with such bold passion, Karoline didn’t fight. And, even as his fang slid down the side of her neck in a long slow caress, she clung to him.
“A small taste only, beautiful witch,” he rasped.
Dazed, almost delirious with desire, Karoline felt the needle-sharp prick of his fangs as they sank into her tender flesh, where her neck met her shoulder. As quick, the point of his tongue laved her wound, sensual and warm.
The Kougar’s news ~
I will be guest blogging at Fang-tastic Books ~ fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com ~ this coming Wednesday, the *27th* ~ The Veil Between the Worlds... disappearing?
~ HAPPY HALLOWEEN SHAPESHIFTING ~
~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Monday, October 25, 2010
Never tell a vampire “Bite me.”
Spirits and poltergeists do not like having the theme song from “Casper the Friendly Ghost” sung to them.
Werewolves cannot be deterred by a rolled-up newspaper, unless the paper is rolled up around a lead pipe.
Ogres can be bought off with chocolate. But then, so can just about anybody.
The difference between an orc and a goblin: the orc can throw you farther.
Depowered shapechangers do not appreciate being called “shiftless.”
Jack-o-Lanterns like to get lit.
A black cat crossing your path means bad luck for you, unless you’re behind the wheel of a car at the time.
A buzzard circling overhead means good luck … for the buzzard.
Using a dragon to barbecue burgers is considered animal abuse and will bring down the wrath of PETA upon you. Using a dragon to barbecue obnoxious PETA adherents is perfectly acceptable.
Don’t worry about the monster under the bed. The dust bunnies will get it.
Pteranodons do not breathe fire. However, their farts can be deadly.
Got a bit of a lift from an unexpected source the other day. Friday’s episode of Supernatural had Dean turn into a vampire. Since I had “cast” Jensen Ackles as the vampire hero of my story, it was almost like seeing my character on screen. He even cleaned out a vampire nest, in a scene that mirrored a similar scene in my story. This is probably as close as I’ll ever get to seeing my stuff on TV. If Sam becomes a prostitute next week, my life will be complete.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Patches of frost crested the few tufts of uncut grass sticking out across the field. Crystalline beauty danced as flickers of car headlights flashed across them and faded as they passed. Noise rushed by and silence regained its upper hand.
James waited in the shadows, watching and yearning. Would she come again? Sit and listen to his lonely howl, smiling as though she understood him. Her odor graced his palate with each breath, making him wonder why her. What made her different?
He couldn't deny the taste of her rolling over his tongue and deep into his throat urged his need to claim his mate. What mate? A mortal? Human frailty marked her as forbidden. One passionate session of sex----humans didn't understand the sheer pleasure in sex for its own heady release and finding one's own level of satisfaction. Once, twice, perhaps all night long to fall asleep in each other's arms sated, to awaken again and repeat with great vigor. None since his last wolf mate could keep up with his need, human or wolf.
Blast the curse that kept him from fulfilling his longing. There had to be one woman who could accept him and love him for himself. He didn’t need more than one. Though two or three wouldn’t be bad either. He wasn’t greedy, just lustful and down right horny. Oh, yes and male. Very thoroughly male.
A car door slamming and footsteps broke silence’s hold on the night. Had she arrived?
James sat on his haunches sniffing the air, turning his head back and forth. Nothing. Cold air fogged in front of him as he exhaled. Shifting closer to the trunk of the large oak, he lowered his body tight to the ground. Lifting his head slightly, he peered toward the edge of the field closest to the highway.
A lone figure leaned against the parked car. The height and build matched hers. He’d never gotten a clear view of her. His luck this was another person looking for a full moon thrill. If his gonads and cock weren’t demanding satisfaction, he’d give whoever it was a thrill. Chase their ass across the field a couple of times or around their car. That usually got the thrill seekers out of his woods.
Edging to the outer perimeter of his shadow cover, he raised his head higher. Inhaling deeply, he paused. Wonderful aromas and tantalizing tastes clamored over his tongue and blasted down his throat. It was her!
Friday, October 22, 2010
“Like I would ever agree to create a life and then give it over to evil.”
Until six months ago, Lix had never believed in demon curses. She’d spent her life spreading goodness and light, loving life and helping others connect to the earth. Now, due to the curse, she could no longer connect without harming her Mother. She could also be called forth by demons and humans alike to commit horrible acts upon the earth. It disgusted her and with the sheer numbers of humans using her summoning name lately, she was sure Nathanael was giving it out like flyer's in mailboxes.
“I had no choice to go to Gusion for answers,” she said to herself, bolstering her courage as she stood before the dragon’s lair. “He was the only demon who could tell me how to break a demon’s curse.” She only wished it hadn’t meant obtaining a dragon scale.
Halloween's coming up soon and we here at Shapeshifters have a special guest for ya'll. Ashlyn Chase will be with us blogging about Book Recommendations from a Real, Live, Witch and she'll be hosting a contest for her new release. Yay! Stop on by.
Have a great weekend!
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Hi and welcom to your Wednesday fix of Shapeshifter Seductions! This week I have been busy getting my home ready for winter by pulling a/c window units out, putting storm windows in and winterizing the garden. Soon it will be time for snow!
I did not write an actual blog (forgot) so I'm going to post a little something I already had on hand. This is a condensed spinet from a short story I submitted to a call for submissions that didn't make the cut. But I love it, so I'm going to share it here.
Pearlie knew she was different the day she smelled her mother and thought, she smells like a human. What it meant, exactly, Pearlie didn’t know, or at least tried very hard to pretend she didn’t know. She’d always had an affinity for red meat though her hippy mother had raised her vegan. Wild, lonely places called to her soul though she’d been raised in an artist commune in Nederland, Colorado, which isn‘t all that remote despite being on the edge of several national parks. This new scent was different, too- exciting and just a little bit scary.
To be more precise, the scent itself wasn’t scary, but her reaction to it was. Most people smell a really good cologne and think, “That smells nice. I think I‘d like to get to know that person better.” Pearlie smelled a cologne and wondered why people would pay money to smell like rubbing alcohol and chemicals. This scent, though, didn’t smell like cologne or human or even food. Her brain kept saying mate!
She first encountered it at the farmer’s market. The scent had drifted to her on a waft of breeze, tantalizing her like the smell of fresh baking bread. Before she realized what she was doing, Pearlie found herself wandering the stalls, trying to follow it. Had it been something as benign as bread, that instinctive tracking wouldn’t have worried her. Bread was for eating and only made her hungry. This tantalizing aroma made her gut clench with need. It made her body thrum and whisper mate!
She left the market immediately and drove the seventeen miles back to Boulder to do her shopping, never mind that she‘d made this trip specifically to go to that farmer‘s market.
The next time Pearlie caught the scent, she was at the library on campus doing research for her college thesis on prehistoric apes. It was an odd subject for a vegan hippy who loved meat but refused to eat it. Something about it called to her, though, much like meat and wild, lonely places called to her. Much like the mystery scent called to her.
She left the library immediately and went home. She could do her research on-line just as easily.
As the days stretch into weeks, Pearlie caught the scent more and more at places she tended to frequent. She had a sneaking suspicion that whoever the luscious scent belonged to was tracking her by her scent. She was a little embarrassed, though not surprised. Since first catching the mystery scent, she’d noticed that her own scent had changed, just a little, like her body was calling to the mystery male who’d entered her territory.
She was also embarrassed to realize that she no longer needed to actually catch the scent to become aroused. Her concerted efforts to avoid it meant awareness of the male was always in the back of her mind. Simply seeing two people kissing was enough to bring him to the forefront, which ushered in a surge of longing for the mystery male. After watching an episode of her favorite day time drama, Pearlie caught herself actually heading out to the market- where she’d noticed his scent was strongest- to try and catch a whiff again.
Now Pearlie wasn’t watching TV, either.
Max had been passing through a little mountain hamlet several weeks ago when he first caught her scent. Young. Female. Single. That in itself was enough to catch his interest, so he’d called his clan told them he’d be late returning.
That casual interest had ramped up sharply, though, when he caught her scent the next day after leaving his scent all over town. He’d expected her to come find him, if only to confront another in her territory. Not only had she not confronted him, she’d run from him. And she’d been interested. Max was confused. There were so few of their kind left that the chance for a mate wasn’t something to be missed.
Max stopped suddenly as a thought hit him. She didn’t know what she was. Was she a hybrid who’d been made in the heat of passion then abandoned by a father who didn‘t know he‘d breed a human? He nodded to himself. That made sense. She must not know what the mating heat was, that her body had responded to him because they were genetically compatible. To a young female who’d been raised to think she was human, it would be a frightening experience. How best to woo her, then?
Her nose told her that the mystery male had found where she lived. She was tempted to avoid going home, but decided enough was enough. She’d quit going to the library, the market, and even the movies. She couldn’t even watch her soaps, for crying out loud- enough was enough!
Her indignation lasted until she saw the dead- thing- on her doorstep. Pearlie glanced around nervously then edged a bit closer. Yep, it was a dead raccoon and it was cover with his scent. Why on earth had he left a dead animal on her doorstep? She wrinkled her nose, pretending it was disgust making her stomach knot and not desire to eat it.
Max stared is stunned surprise as he watched her dump his offering in the trash with a shovel so she wouldn’t have to touch it. His brother had managed to win his mate with food offerings- it was proof the male would be a good provider. Maybe she didn’t like that kind of food?
Oh, gross! Pearlie thought in disgust, trying to wipe her foot off in the grass. Who left a pile of rotten fruit on her doorstep? Oh. The male. What on Earth had he done that for? Was this some bizarre courting ritual for his people?
Max watch dejectedly as his female wiped her foot off in the grass while muttering “ew, ew, ew.” She was so beautiful to him- smaller and curvier than most of his kind but with the same dark hair and skin most of them had. He wanted her so badly he could taste it but he had a feeling he was screwing things up. This courtship thing was harder than it looked. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his sister-in-law. Maybe she could help him figure out what he was doing wrong.
“I don’t want to get out of bed,” Pearlie muttered to herself. After the last two times she’d left the house, she was afraid to see what her would-be suitor had left on her doorstep this morning. She sighed and drug herself out of bed. Better to find it herself than have one of her neighbors find it and call the police. She threw on her ratty old bathrobe and trudged to the door, opening it just a crack. His scent slipped through to wrap around her senses. She pretended it was annoyance that made her close her eyes and breath deeply and not her guilty desire to smell him better. She opened the door all the way and looked. Then blinked. Then smiled. Starbucks was good- much better than dead things.
She looked around carefully to see if he was still there then scooped up her booty and shut the door.
Max smile in delight from his hiding place high in a tree across the street from her den. Mara’s advise had seemed odd at first. What female would prefer baked goods and scalded, milky bean juice over fresh meat caught in their honor? But Mara’s advice seemed to be working, so he figured his sister-in-law knew what she was doing.
That's about it for this week. Have great and wonderful rest of the week!
Greetings, Shapeshifter lovers, the blue jays in my neck of the woods are at war over territory, if their loud squabbles are any indication. With Autumn flying by faster than a witch on a jet-powered broomstick, it is wise to prepare your winter accommodations.
Of course, the ghoulish and mystical world of Halloween is heavy as fog around me right now. There are online spooktacular celebrations galore for the authors and readers of paranormal romance. Witches, Ghosts, Vampires, Angels, Demons, Gods and Goddesses, Fairies and those of the fae realm, Demon/Vamp Hunters, Werewolves, and, of course, Shapeshifters in every breed and stripe, are making their appearances.
My apologies to any and every being I’ve left out. From what I’ve observed a popular pairing is a witch and a shapeshifter. Yep, that is a natural and ‘familiar’ mating straight from heaven or hell.
Okay, then... I had no idea I’d be writing this. But, here it is, I’m hopping on the Dragon Bandwagon with my freshly written contribution. Be kind, please. It’s not magic-clever like Pat Cunningham’s Dragon Scales. Nor, is it sassitude-clever like Solara’s Dragon. Nor, is it imaginative-erotic like Serena Shay’s The Dragon’s Lair.
Dusk claimed the sky as if silver droplets infused the air. Zrykur commanded the color from his scales, and knew he all but disappeared. Even the super-tech crowd ensconced in their underground compounds couldn’t detect his presence. Dragons were rarely captured and dissected, given their scales redirected beams, from microwave to laser.
Still, as he descended and cruised at about a thousand feet, he imitated a small plane, locking his leathery wings. Cranky as when he lost an aerial competition, a rare occurrence, Zrykur mentally roared. Hell’s blood, if he didn’t feel banished from his world.
Despite his rogue tendencies, he’d never been labeled an outcast. However, before he could depart, Earth had been declared a quarantined planet by the Galactic High Council. No matter that had been 48,592 years ago.
Snorting to lessen his anger, Zrykur flamed a pocket of pollutants in his path. Oh, yeah, baby, that was his mission these days. Sail the skies and use his fire to scorch a path through the gargantuan clouds of putrid slimy chemicals.
A dragon did have to breathe, great amounts of air usually. For his sake, for his brethren dragons, and for the Earth Mother, Zrykur dissipated as much of Beelzebub’s crap as he could stomach. And stomach said it, since he was often grounded atop the nearest mountain by the nausea that slithered like a serpent through his belly.
Riding the prevailing wind, Zrykur glared at the distant town’s sprinkling of lights. If he didn’t want to dry up and blow away, scale by large scale, he had to find a human woman, shift to a man for the night, and engage in carnal relations.
No problem for him, and always erotically enjoyable. Several vigorous rounds of coupling were always preferable, the juicier and hotter the better. The woman’s essence, body and spirit, infused him with what he required to continue living.
The problem, he wanted no attachment that would prevent him from returning to Vaskarlia. And human women could be so delightfully alluring. He always risked taking one as his mate.
Hell’s black cold hearth, that’s how he’d ended up on Earth in the first place.
During the antediluvian time, an appetite for lust had been considered sacred, and beneficial for the land’s fertility. As a youthful dragon shapeshifter, the nights of revelry with beautiful insatiable women who had run from him just to be chased and caught, had proven to be a temptation he couldn’t resist. Then.
Now, he wanted to survive until he discovered a way leave Earth. Slowing his speed to near floating, Zrykur flapped his wings twice, the rush of sound and wind merged with the rising stormwinds. Swiftly, he neared the bar and restaurant district, only upscale because Yuppie’s escaping California had flooded the eastern Oregon town.
Scenting a sexually ripe woman who was alone, Zrykur halted his tail from slashing the evening air in anticipation of being with her. He told his cock to deflate as he folded his wings, and slowly dived toward the large parking lot she approached.
The woman’s scream ripped apart the atmosphere. Streamlining his body, Zrykur flared his eyes searching for her. Using them like giant spotlights he located her on the edge of the lot, a woman with ruby fire hair.
What Zrykur witnessed next boiled his blood and blazed him to fury. A man seized the woman from behind, trapping her against his body. She struggled valiantly to escape, but the brute of a man dragged her toward a pickup truck.
“Stephen, let go! You fucking bastard. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
She started to scream again and the man clamped a hand over her mouth. Wild with rage and fear, the woman twisted while trying to bite his hand. Even though her arms remained captured, she fought to pummel him with her fists.
Zrykur launched himself directly in the man’s line of sight, reddening his eyes. That always frightened humans out of their skin.
“What the fuck...” Speechless now, Stephen stopped dead in his tracks.
Whipping around, the woman beat on his chest taking advantage of his looser hold.
“Let go, you shithead. I hate you. I’ll always hate you!”
Zrykur spread his wings. Stephen’s eyes bulged, threatening to come out of their sockets. His hold slackened and the woman broke free. She backed up so fast, she nearly lost her footing. Recovering, she spun around and ran.
Zrykur felt his blood run cold, and not thinking twice, he flamed the man. Sizzling nicely, as only a human could, Stephen went up in smoke.
Zrykur heard the woman’s shocked horrified voice as he began his transformation. Hovering above an adequate roof, he completed the change and dropped down on his bare feet.
“Omygawd,” she chanted several times. “I never believed in... what is that, that...term? Omygawd, he’s a pile of ash.”
Grabbing the heavy duty bag that had been hanging around his neck, Zrykur pulled out jeans, a leather jacket, motorcycle boots and a black t-shirt. He threw his clothes on and jerked on his boots, knowing he had to get to the woman as fast as possible.
“Oh, god, human combustion. Spontaneous human combustion. I never believed... omygawd. He’s a... he’s a pile ash. Just ash. Oh, god..”
Leaping, Zrykur landed in the alleyway that led to the parking lot. With his senses on high alert, he jogged toward the woman. Once he sighted her, immobile and pointing, one hand over her mouth, he slowed to a fast walk.
Relieved that no one else was around, he approached keeping his stride casual. “Is something wrong, miss?”
She glanced at him, her eyes wide luminous pools. Seconds later, her eyes rolled back, her knees buckled, and she fainted. Zrykur caught her easily, and slung her across his shoulders, all in one motion.
Yet, not before he’d seen the sheer loveliness of her face. And not before his gaze had traveled over her nymph-luscious curves.
“My own damsel in distress.”
Briefly touching her mind, Zrykur headed for her car. He didn’t plan on telling her he had flamed her ex-boyfriend. Or, that he was a dragon shifter from a world far, far away. He didn’t plan on telling her what she didn’t know about herself.
No, not until she couldn’t live without him.
~ HAPPY HALLOWEEN SHAPESHIFTING ~
~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Monday, October 18, 2010
The hairs along Kendra’s forearms prickled when the man stalked into her shop, and not just because he was the most attractive male she’d seen in a long time. That strong, angular face had a scowl on it, which tainted its handsomeness. Normally she didn’t go in for the shaved-head look, but she found the flame tattoos that decorated his skull intriguing. Her disquiet stemmed from the way he walked. It took her a moment to put her finger on it. He moved the way a cobra would if it had legs. The way the Serpent would have moved through Eden, before God consigned him to his belly. And he was headed straight for the counter.
She took a deep breath and made sure her silver spell knife lay within easy reach. Her confidence in its properties waned the nearer he came to the counter. Close up, he stank of raw magic and a power far beyond her own. What he was doing in a small-time magic shop she didn’t even want to guess. Handsome or not, Kendra decided it would be in her best interests to get rid of him as quickly as possible.
She fixed a bright smile to her face. “Help you?”
He glared straight into her eyes. The impact nearly reduced her to ash on the spot. “Dragon scales. I need dragon scales.”
Goody, a nut job. A potentially dangerous nut job. “Sorry, fresh out. Have you tried Hauptmann’s over on 8th?”
“I just came from there,” he growled. “He sent me here. Don’t play games with me. I know the kinds of wares you really carry.” He leaned across the counter. “I want dragon scales. Now.”
He was even scarier up in her face. His eyes weren’t the brown she’d assumed they were. They were maroon. That deep rumble he called a voice sounded like he was dragging it out of a pit. And –
And he had smoke wisping out of his nostrils.
“Sweet Selene,” she blurted. “You’re a dragon.”
His lips twisted into something that faintly resembled a smile. “Not at the moment, as I’m sure you can tell. I need dragon scales to change back. Tell me you have some.”
“Don’t you have any of your own? I know what your kind is like. You’re hoarders. You never throw anything out.”
“Of course I have scales in my lair. Unfortunately, I’ve been ejected from my lair by the sorcerer who did this to me. I need my true form back to fight him. For that I need dragon scales. Not wyvern, like Hauptmann tried to sell me. Dragon.” He leaned in even closer, and smiled. The heat of his breath hit her face like a Saharan wind. “You’re going to help me, aren’t you?”
“I – I don’t carry things like that.” In the distance she caught the wail of a siren. “I’m only a low-level witch. You’ll have to try somewhere else.”
“There is nowhere else, and there is no one else. You’re my last hope.” The siren grew louder. The dragon’s smile grew broader. “Fire engine,” he pronounced. “Probably Hauptmann’s store. It was burning quite vigorously when I left.”
As I was working out Dragon Man's physical description, the image of Vin Diesel popped into my head. Wouldn't he make one badass dragon? Damn, I wish I could figure out how to upload pictures.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
“Look lizard breath! Stop being so stingy!” Tina Nichols folded her arms tight across her chest. “I need a scale to finish my flying incantation.”
Derek Stanson pushed his sunglasses up on top his head. “What makes you think I’m being stingy?”
Tina kicked at the loose pebbles covering one part of the cliff’s edge. “You gave Cindy two scales and Mary Jane another. What’s one more going to hurt?”
Derek sighed, leaning back against the huge oak tree standing half way back on the hill’s peak. Summer time and heat combined with dragon hormones was bad enough. A temper mental witch was something he’d rather not deal with. “Tina, those scales were two molts ago. You know several months old and not the least bit powerful in any form.”
Tina shot him a scoff and stomped past him, working her way down the trail running in between the tall pines and older elms and oaks. Her ass wiggled every step she took. Her anger emphasized her strut the more she stomped. Her shoulder length blonde hair flared out behind her with each step. Her five-foot-four height hid a temper that could curdle clotted milk. While he’d loved to watch her petite bums work their way back down the hill sans clothing---yeah, he’d been fantasizing about her again---he knew better than to ignore her out burst. Silent or verbal, when Tina got pissed, look out. Her magic could run amuck if he didn’t keep an eye on her.
“Tina, wait up.” He pulled his sunglasses down and jogged after her.
Tina didn’t want to slow down. Damn Derek and his generosity with the camp kids. He’d give his last molted scale to them and listen to their oohs and ahs like a hummingbird going after sugar nectar. Let her ask for one and---well she’d even said please and explained why she needed it. Hearing his heavy breathing and trot behind her, Tina sped up her gait. Blast him! She needed space to cool down. Her thinking wasn’t running in sequence, much less being logical. She needed to go over the spell again to see if anything else would work.
Two weeks prior, she’d stumbled upon her great aunt’s spell book going through a box of old books she’d found in the attic. Great aunt Elspeth, the one who believed in her despite her less than stellar heritage, saw nothing wrong with Tina’s mortal half. So she didn’t hex and spell cast as well as the rest of her of family. She hid her real power from them, moonlight prating. With the light of the stars and a full moon, she could create faux diamonds and gems that fooled even some world-class jewelers.
Tina shook her head, as tempting as that was she couldn’t show up at her university reunion and not be able to cast a simple flying spell. Faux dragon scales didn’t work. Her antique broom levitated two feet off the floor before it fell like a heavy rock back to her feet. If she practiced hard enough, she could call her forks to her along with other utensils. Who was she trying to fool? Her Wiccan U classmates would probably snub her and laugh just like they had ten years earlier.
Two thirds of the way down the hill, she stopped. Derek’s shuffle and heavy breathing weren’t following her. Had he given up? He kept saying everyone needed a keeper and they were each others.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Talk about your creative, story inspiring questions. How would you answer some of these babies?
1) You are on your way to work, when suddenly a wormhole to the far side of the galaxy opens in the middle of the road. You are thus the first to meet the alien being that emerges. Despite your protestations, you are now Earth’s unofficial First Contact ambassador. What will you say to the visitor?
2) A wandering trading caravan emerges from the wormhole. They plan to stay on Earth for a few weeks, and then will move on to the next planet and the next. Whatever you said must have really impressed them, because they offer to let you and a few other humans come along with them. The only catch is that the caravan probably won’t be back to Earth. Would you go? Why or why not?
3) Suppose you decided to go. The master of the caravan will allow you to bring along whatever trinkets and baubles you think will sell on alien worlds, and will also allow you to bring exactly five other items that you may always keep. Clearly, he does not mean practical items like shoes or a toothbrush. What would you bring?
4) Suppose you decided to stay home after all. The caravan master offers you a parting gift. You may choose among super-brain pills, a flying car, a robot butler, or an invisibility belt. Which would you choose and why?
5) Suppose you ended up taking the super-brain pills. You now have a head the size, shape, and color of a watermelon. But you also now have the most fantastic mind the world has ever seen. What would be the first task you set it to?
~What would I say to the visitor? "Okay dude tell me, shapeshifters...myth or reality in your world?"
~What parting gift would I choose? Simple. An invisibility belt, of course...wouldn't that be a kick in the pants! LOL
Have a fabulous weekend!
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Hi and welcome to your Wednesday fix of Shapeshifter Seductions! Rebecca here with your news of shape shifters in the real world. Today, we have a story of a woman who admits to being a cobra, a ranch in Utah that claims to be the skinwalker trail, and a remake of an old werewolf movie!
It’s been a busy week! I gave up on trying to make my website both functional and attractive on my one and have been checking out a few website design people. I also ended up expanding a story I though was just about ready to be submitted. One of the secondary characters decided he wanted a bigger part. I was hesitant at first- why mess with a good thing?- but caved. I kind of like the direction he wants to take it. The third story of my short story trilogy is not going to be a short story, or not as short as the first two, at least. Fun, fun, fun!
So on to the snake woman! In the tiny African nation of Ghana, a snake did appear in front of a village church. The parishioners, fearful of their safety, chased the snake off. When the snake disappeared down a drainage tunnel, the frightened villagers poured boiling water down it. What should appear? A woman who had just been burned by boiling water!
When asked, the woman admitted she was the snake. The pastor’s wife called the police because she was afraid the woman would be killed by her husband’s flock and they took her into custody, not that it stopped an angry mob from forming outside the jail, though. The police declared that the woman was insane, a claim some doubt because no snake could be found, boiled or otherwise. I can’t say as I blame them, but considering how many people have been turning up dead in Africa lately that can be tied to black magic, I can’t really blame the cops for trying to defuse the situation, either.
So you’d like to meet a shape shifter yourself, up close and personal? No need to go traipsing all the way to Africa, my loyal readers! In Uintah County, Utah, there is just such a place. The Skinwalker Ranch is a well-known hotbed for the super- and preternatural. You name it, someone has seen it there. Supposedly, the Utes of that area say that Navajo skinwalkers have made the area a cross roads of supernatural evil. There has even been a quasi-scientific study done on the place. You can pick up your own copy of the book, if actually traveling to BFE Utah doesn’t sound like your cup of tea. Or you and read this… interesting… article by the authors of the book.
Why do I even care, you may ask? Because I grew up not more than 100 miles away from Uintah County, Utah. I, in fact, grew up in Uinta County, Wyoming, and I absolutely saw things as a kid that made me think there was something out there in the night. If you need a little help luring your significant other into a trip the the wilds of the Rocky Mountains, you can always try billing it a ski vacation, one that even a bookworm could love!
If you’d like a break from reading interesting paranormal stuff (not that you would, but if you did) Nickelodeon is releasing a remake of an old 1973 horror, The Boy Who Cried Werewolf. In the original, a young boy goes on a camping trip with his father. The father gets attacked by a werewolf, and the kid spends the rest of the film trying to convince people that his father is now a werewolf. I have never seen this flick, but it does sound very interesting.
The new version is appropriately kid friendly, as one would expect from Nickelodeon, but probably won’t be as warm and fuzzy as a Disney made-for-TV movie. Other than the name, this one looks like it’s almost totally new. I’m still going to be tuning in, though, because it’s got a grieving widower who just inherited a mansion in Romania and whose kids turn into werewolves. ‘Nuff said for me. It’s airing Saturday, October 23rd at 8/7 central.
That’s about it for this week’s shape shifter news. Have a safe and festive rest-of-the week!