Greetings Shapeshifter lovers, for this week I thought I’d have my tigress shapeshifter, Kytaira, give Talbot’s Peak a helping paw. After all, tiger shifters have played the villains, thus far. With the Chinese New Year on February 3rd, the tiger will yield to the rabbit. So, I thought it was only fair to give tigers a good name, too, and a last roaring hurrah.
WARNING ~ Gratuitous violence ahead.
Tigress Shapeshifter... meet the new boss, worse than the old boss...
I awake, a snarl vibrating my throat. I don’t bother yawning as the knowing surges through me. I face another mission.
Instead, I roll on my side, and nestle my head in the pillow. Within moments, the vision has it’s way with me. To even the playing field for justice, I am about to intercept a deadly attack on a shapeshifter stronghold, a town called Talbot’s Peak.
Before I can stop it my hand reaches out for Zurroc, my Black Tiger. But, the bed is empty. My inner tigress screams with a mate’s need for him. For my mission partner, and my lover.
When I became so attached, I don’t remember. My Zurroc is on a mission of his own to our homeworld. A report on the state of injustice on Earth has become necessary. Bureaucracies are a bitch.
Bitch. Yeah...not the claw-powerful bitch who champions the people. But, the weak-fanged bitch who demands endless tribute.
About to rise, my fingertips encounter a piece of paper, a sheet of linen by the feel of it. I lurch upward, grabbing it up at the same time.
Instantly, I recognize the writing of my Black Tiger, and blink away the remnants of sleep.
I know my tigress.
Wild fierce energy burning,
she is large of heart.
Kind to those in need,
she is a predator for justice.
Currents of white-hot fire arc
when her Tigress spirit
mates with my Tiger soul.
Ancient passions ignite
when we tangle,
woman and man becoming one.
Savage is another name
for the beauty of my Tigress.
She frees me, my woman.
For, what is untamed in me
growls to caress what is untamed in her.
Tears spring to my eyes, slide down my cheeks, and drip on my Zurroc’s words. With a gentle motion I place his poem on his side of the bed where he will find it. And know how much he has moved my heart for him.
With ferociousness blazing through me now, I leap up. Before my mind’s eye I watch the internationally-spawned black ops team prepare to take over Talbot’s Peak -- while I prepare to eliminate them.
They adjust their blast weapons with precision. They will wipe out the shapeshifter population if I do not intervene.
Having pulled on my purple, body-hugging leathers, dragged a brush through my short locks, and fed myself, I launch up my spiral staircase. Atop my warehouse home sits my invisible jet.
The small, ion-fast craft can skim the ground or soar along the edges of the atmosphere. Rarely do I encounter any interference -- so far, easily outrun. Slipping inside, I run my hand over the instrument panel, activating the energy core, and in moments, I hover above the roof.
As I zip above New York City’s skyline, dawn heralds the first colors of sunrise. Flying toward Montana, I enter the darkness of night. On a straightline course, I remain high enough to avoid landscape obstacles, yet lower than the commercial flight paths.
Before the black ops team can detect the presence of my jet, I land out of range, on the opposite side of Talbot’s Peak. The arrogant, sanctioned killers believe they can sweep through like murdering locusts, instead of circling the town to prevent any escape.
Aware White Fang is waiting, I exit the jet quickly. Strong arms embrace me, then we are soaring above the forest at a rate of speed that is sure to tangle my hair.
Before he is able to land with me, deadly flares whizz around us. White Fang rockets back and forth, avoiding them successfully.
We sync mentally with each other, and decide on a wing-it, fling-it attack on our somewhat formidable enemy. He’ll wing it, then transition to wolf. I’ll fling it, once I have morphed to tigress.
Okay, not much of a strategy. But, at least, we have one.
Halting in mid-flight, White Fang drops me close to the ground. I whirl out of his arms, hit the forest floor, and crouch. Instantly, the stench of genetically modified humans assails my nostrils, even though the black ops team’s scent is supposed to be hidden from us shapeshifters.
As White Fang zooms out of sight to take up his position, I throw off my leathers, and begin my shift to tigress. Already, the yen to taste their iron-rich, alien-enhanced blood rages through me, and I salivate.
Leaping into a dead run, I phase beyond their weapons’ capability, yet maintain my body’s fighting strength. Righteous fury pumps through me, along with the hot pumping hum of my blood.
Despite their night gear designed to hide them, I sight twenty of the black ops team as they rapidly advance in my direction. Soon plasma bullets streak past me, a few of them glancing off my phase field.
It’s too late when they decide to hurl micro-burst grenades at me. They have misjudged my supernatural speed. I spring on the nearest of them.
Blood lust consumes me as I slam against him. He staggers while my superior claws rip at the nano-material made to be impenetrable. My fangs slash until I can sink them into the side of his neck and the meat of his shoulder.
I fling that large hunk of him to the side. At the same time, I disengage my claws knowing death will claim him in seconds. Without thought, I spin and charge for the legs of closest foe. All the while they rapid-fire their weapons into me.
Little do they realize the plasma energy only feeds my strength, now. Clamping my jaws on the man’s terminator-muscled leg, I twist, tearing it off. He screams, and falls.
One by one, I seize their foul-formed flesh with the plunge of my claws, and the strike of my fangs. No, the massacre is not complete. Those who can, are in full retreat. Not many of them.
Finished with my kills, I smell another carnage not far from my position. I stretch into a run, and sniff the air wondering if White Fang needs my assistance. Instead of his wolf scent, I am surprised by the ancient magick permeating that section of the forest.
Then, I realize, recalling the fragrance that clung to White Fang. A feline goddess. I know of their existence on Earth, but have never met one.
And, I won’t meet White Fang’s goddess now. She is gone, having removed the containment sphere she created.
White Fang lopes toward me as wolf. Blood saturates his lush coat as I know it does mine. I feel the stickiness penetrating the thickness of my fur.
Once we meet, we touch noses. It doesn’t take us long to mind-communicate our victories. We know, for now, the few surviving members of the black ops team have been picked up, and there is no plan for another assault on Talbot’s Peak anytime soon.
White Fang invites me to bathe in a nearby waterfall pool, and I follow his lead. Mere minutes later, we are splashing, rolling and swimming.
Our enjoyment stops as we both scent and hear an intruder. By the time the white tiger appears, we have shaken ourselves dry, and are on alert.
Sitting a distance from us, the white tiger’s manner remains regal and unthreatening. When he shifts to human, we do the same.
“Reminds me of a shifter nudist camp I investigated once,” White Fang remarks in his understated way.
“Sergei,” I address the White Tiger assassin, “what brings you to this backwater part of the forest?”
In a flash, an enemy I have encountered before, but have never chased to extermination, shows himself. To clarify, it is his immaterial body we are seeing. Of course, he is dressed immaculately.
Shere Khan bows, perfect in its formality. “I must offer my temporary thanks, Kytaira of the Other World.”
He pauses, eyeing White Fang with a respect I’ve never observed from the Tiger Yakuza leader before, “And, also to you, wolf from another realm, for your most impressive disposal of those who are the enemies of all shapeshifters.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I sarcastically croon. “If it hadn’t been a case of ‘meet the new boss, worse than the old boss’, I would have laughed at your scorched hide...dishonorable Shere Khan.”
He smiles gradually, widely, and with way too much satisfaction. My inner hackles rise.
“It is to your advantage the Black Tiger guards you, Kytaira. What a lovely addition you would be to my harem.” His gaze dines on my naked flesh. “Enslaved to my every pleasure, of course.”
I don’t answer. From the corner of my eye, I see Sergei take a step toward me. Besides, Shere Khan has vanished, his usual style, so he will not hear how my words slice him down to the nothingness of his soul.
For all his legendary power, Sergei approaches White Fang and I carefully. His silence, as he stands gazing at us for long moments, becomes annoying, as does his ice blue stare.
With a shake of my hair, I ask, “So, which side are you really on? ... this time?”
A hint of a smile twitches one corner of his mouth. “My own.”
“How banal,” I reply, then cup my hip with one hand as I challenge him with my gaze. Still, it is easy to know one reason why he has arrived.
He takes White Fang’s measure. Nobody’s fool, White Fang returns the favor. In spades by the canine smell of him.
“Do I get to watch the pissing contest?” I interrupt, before boredom crosses my eyes.
“Ah, my Tigress, only for you.” Sergei uses his most seductively charming voice. “I have placed your ridiculously purple garments on the boulder.” He glances at White Fang. “And, yours, as well.”
With that, Sergei turns and lithely strides into the forest, now golden from the sunrise. White Fang and I look at each other, questions in both of our gazes.
“Boulder?” I ask.
“Not far from here. Why don’t we dress, and I’ll introduce you to my Z’Pasha at the Interspecies Pleasure Club. Venison is on the breakfast menu,” he tempts.
“Pleasure Club. Hell, yeah. Zurroc and I could use a fantasy place to play. Earth is sadly lacking for shapeshifters.”
~ HAPPY SHAPESHIFTING NEW YEAR ~
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~