Tuesday, December 7, 2010

White Fang Kent and Pasha ~ Dangerously Feral

Howls and Yowls of Holiday greetings, shapeshifter lovers, today I have two bio blurbs for you. And! The first meeting of White Fang and Pasha.


White Fang Kent, Ace Crime Reporter

The Super Wolf, who keeps his identity a well-guarded secret, has arrived in Talbot’s Peak, Montana on a mission. The hideaway town has been taken over by a werewolf pack. Their out-of-the-den bravado endangers not only their lives, but the entire shapeshifter world on Earth. Determined to keep his own wolfkind safe and undiscovered, White Fang realizes he must stay to protect the town’s residents from the ruthless enemies they are clueless about. However, he soon discovers he’s stepped into a real life version of As the Werewolf World Turns.

Pasha ~ Catwoman Shifter

Z’Pasha, granddaughter of the Egyptian goddess, Bastet, lives for the day when she can sink her poisonous claws and fangs into the Tiger Yakuza. Two of their Ninja assassins shredded her human friend’s body so brutally, the murder wasn’t reported in the news. Having tracked the elusive assassins across the globe, Pasha believes she is about to corner and castrate the fiendish tigers in the backwoods of Montana. She just needs a bit of super dog assistance. And she knows how to get it. After all, seduction is second nature, and her feline kind knows every shapeshifter male’s weakness.

White Fang Kent and Pasha ~ Dangerously Feral

White Fang had to wonder if the catwoman sultrily stalking him -- a woman who made his dream woman look like the gossip columnist, Maggie -- had been sent by unknown enemies.

Mind probing Pasha would likely be a mistake, even if he could manage to concentrate. He scented goddess blood.

Hidden beneath the natural, femme fatale perfume she exuded -- a fragrance that caused his cock to drip with the need to mate -- was the smell of a lightning storm. A certain sign the catwoman’s lineage went back to the antediluvian gods and goddesses.

White Fang ignored his gentleman’s instinct to rise, and seat her. Why give her a full-on visual of his cock’s fight to overcome the waistband of his pants?

She already knew her affect on him. Seduction was her weapon and he was the target.

“I am Pasha.” With feline grace she offered her hand -- long, slim and tawny gold, yet not fragile in appearance.

“White Fang.” He wrapped his hand entirely around hers simply to feel her, and to let her know he wasn’t without some manner of defense against her carnal claws -- against the slanted glimmer of her spectacular eyes. Jewel green, they were faceted by bronze and cerulean blue.

“May I?” She withdrew her hand, a caress that lingered as sharply as if she’d bitten him during their foreplay.

After a wave of his hand, she languidly arranged herself opposite him. She’d subtly exaggerated the ripe curve of her hips. Now she leaned forward slightly, her arms pressing against the sides of her breasts.

White Fang gave them both what they wanted. He ogled the beautiful generous bounty that was barely contained by her made-for-sex red dress. Somehow he managed to keep his tongue from lolling out in sheer appreciation.

Lykouz hell! He kept himself from leaping over the table and acting like a stud dog desperate for a hump against her haunches. Her lips turned upward, a slow smile of feline enticement. And, of course, cat satisfaction. With a courtesan’s finesse, she quivered her breasts.

“Flaunt and taunt. What do you want...Pasha? Is that your demigoddess name, or are you a full blood?”

She flinched, only seen by his super-powered eyesight. Still, he had to hand it her, and Lykouz knew, he wanted to handle her. Every lush and long curve of her. Every soft silken dip and valley of her.
Recovering her poise, she swept her dark gold lashes downward for a moment. “Z’Pasha,” she throatily purred. “For your ears only.”

“Only,” he repeated, and knew he sounded like a mesmerized fool. “What’s the story?”

A hint of confusion shone in her gaze. Like an even bigger fool, he felt a primal sense of victory over her. Really, though, he told himself, he was the stupid male who didn’t know he’d been caught in her clever trap. Yeah, so his cock jerked, wanting to be caught in her sweet hot trap.

For nearly a minute, they eyed each other, angling for blows in this unspoken battle for dominance.

“The story you want me to tell as a crime reporter. About the Tiger Yakuza.” White Fang forced himself to straighten before he made a move and licked a trail up her sex-kitten cleavage. “Pardon my lack of manners, Pasha. May I order you a drink? Perhaps you haven’t dined yet.”

“You are good.” The tip of her tongue traced her lips. “Very good, White Fang Kent.” With a sensual roll of her shoulders, she leaned back, lounging more comfortably. “I believe Dante’s wine cellar has a pomegranate wine made in the image of the wine crafted by my sacred ancestors.”

“Of course.” White Fang lifted a finger for service.

Their gazes never strayed from each other, and White Fang allowed himself the luxury of staring at her rosy, gold-dusted lips, enhanced only by a shiny gloss. More than kissable her mouth was made for every act of passion imaginable. He swallowed hard while his steely rod banged at his zipper.

Saved, temporarily, by the arrival of a waiter, the same beta werewolf who had served Dante, White Fang swivelled his gaze to him. “Marc,” he noticed the discreet name tag, “would you bring the lady a bottle of Pomegranate Nile? And another brew for me.”

With an elegant nod of his head, Marc pivoted from them.

“Raw delicious torment,” White Fang growled.

He didn’t bother sparing Pasha his thorough, hungry-as-a-wolf perusal of her. When his gaze settled on her voluptuously pointed nipples, she drew in loud rushing breaths. Her mating heat filled his nostrils, and neither one of them moved for a time that seemed to stretch into infinity.

“Before you make me more insane with desire, super wolf, I’ll give you what you came for.”

“And that is?”

“I’ll take you to my last sighting of the Tiger Yakuza assassins. You’ll get your story, ace crime reporter, just follow the trail.”

Her half-lidded gaze languorously studied his face, then moved over his chest. It felt as if she physically stroked him, and White Fang nearly groaned out loud.

“And, what do you get, Pasha?” he asked a long moment later. His tone was so hoarse, he wondered that the words could be understood.

With a deliberate toss of her hair, she shifted positions, and the curvaceous swells of her breasts beckoned him even more. “Revenge, of course.”

White Fang had never felt so dangerously feral when it came to the fair sex.



Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~


Serena Shay said...

Mmmm...Pasha and White Fang, a desirable duo who I'm guessing will be burning up both the streets and sheets!

I love the description of her eyes! "Jewel green, they were faceted by bronze and cerulean blue." Gorgeous!!

Savanna Kougar said...

Serena, yep, Pasha and White Fang will be burning each other up -- passionately speaking, that is.

Zeva and Nick?

Rebecca Murray said...

"And what do you get, Pasha?" Am I the only one who though she was going to say something other than revenge?

Savanna Kougar said...

Rebecca, Pasha does have her own agenda... to avenge her friend.

Pat C. said...

Whoa! That entry almost melted my laptop screen.

Witches, goddesses, superwolves ... what else will pop up in this story?

Other than White Fang, that is. I suspect he did indeed "stand up" when Pasha approached his table ...

Rebecca Murray said...

Sure, but does she have any... other plans for White Fang?

Savanna Kougar said...

Rebecca, Pasha always has plans, and pleasures in mind. But, you know what they say about plans. They don't always go as planned. And, White Fang just might have some of his plans blown out of the water while something else 'blows' hard.

Savanna Kougar said...

Pat, talk about an international gathering of shapeshifters, and paranormal beings... witches, goddesses...

Yep, White Fang is 'standing up' real proud... I wonder if Pasha will take seduction-pity on his steely rod, or if he'll take pity on himself, and enjoy her expertise.