Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Blood Destiny ~ London Vampire in Talbot’s Peak

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Oh, am I ever in a state of authorly confusion... well, not just authorly. I blame this ongoing bafflement about what to do next, what path to take... partly, that is... on retrograde Uranus in Aries, my sun sign. It certainly does feel like things are moving backward.

Then, of course, I can also blame it on the oven-baking heat for the past several days. Heck, I don’t even know what kind of flash scene to write for today’s post. My brain seems to be filled with a dense and endless fog -- as far as story ideas.

Ennui... now, there’s a word that describes my current state. Also, lethargic.

Oh, yes, I have previous story ideas and WIPs out the proverbial wazoo... yet, somehow, nothing feels right. It’s like suddenly having no desire for a chocolate malt. Talk about a rare occurrence.

So, recently a vampire hero did introduce himself to me in the that twilight state between waking and sleep... yeah, twilight... whatever.

I don’t know what to make of him, or how his story has begun. He isn’t your Hollywood version of a bloodsucker. He isn’t exactly a bad ass, either, even though to protect his Vampire kind he was an assassin.

Here’s what I have so far.

Blood Destiny ~ London Vampire in Talbot’s Peak

“Happy birthday to me. Five hundred years young.” Zvorak felt the derisive cut of his voice as if a blade sliced up his torso -- something he’d experienced on several occasions, usually because of his reckless nature.

Against his will, Zvorak’s fangs lengthened, and he mentally snarled, his mood as morose as the gray overcast sky. He peered out the second-floor window of his posh flat -- a last look before he departed London forever.

Given it was midday, and not yet raining, a few well-to-do mothers strolled by. Their young children bounced beside them like overeager puppies. One boy Zvorak had developed a fondness for, stopped, and waved a pudgy hand.

Zvorak saluted in return, knowing Ronald sensed him rather than saw him at first. He’d send the boy a gift, and stay in touch. Perhaps, he could influence the youngster toward the righteous path despite his father’s unscrupulous nature.

While he enjoyed much of the lifestyle, Zvorak wouldn’t miss being part of the city’s upper-crust circles. The endless hypocrisy had long since grown tiresome -- only tolerated because it had been his duty.

Since he’d reached maturity for his Vampire breed, Zvorak was now liberated from all service to his brethren. He lifted the glass of Colline Saluzzesi wine dangling from his fingertips, and briefly savored the Pelaverga grapes of his birth place.

“No longer the Vampinator,” he growled to himself.

He should have been celebrating. No longer would he stalk and feed on the obscenely rich rotters who were a threat to his Vampire race. Despite the sweet siren scent of their blood, he’d grown weary of his clever and covert assassinations.

Free to pursue his own path now, Zvorak had paid Dante handsomely for his own suite of rooms at the werewolf’s Pleasure Club in Talbot’s Peak, Montana. There was only one problem, the woman he desired beyond all others would not be waiting for him.

For the last two and a half centuries, she’d teased him, the art of her allure his undoing. With her courtesan’s knowledge, she’d tempted his lusty nature unmercifully. Never had she allowed their coupling, only offering the talent of her hands and mouth on his hard-as-a-marble-pillar cock.

With his balls tightening to a raw ache, Zvorak remembered the first time he’d seen her, smelled her. Then wanted her. Lingering in the night shadows of the castle courtyard, he’d witnessed her shapeshift.

Beneath the nearly full moon, white as a virgin’s thighs, she had deftly loosened the laces of her ball gown. Before the elaborate affair had fallen below her waist, she morphed so splendidly and perfectly into a sleek feline, he’d stared in disbelief.

Certainly, she resembled no species of big cat he’d ever observed. Slighter, and more elegant in shape than a lioness, her head appeared to be carved by a master craftsman, and was longer than most feline breeds.

As if to amuse herself, she’d glided toward him on silent paws, her eyes like twin amethysts lit by fire. The powerful ripple of her muscles, easily witnessed beneath her short, honey-colored coat, held Zvorak spellbound.

He’d stepped from the shadows, and when she’d displayed her fangs in a show of savagery, he’d displayed his fangs. Her tail had sliced the air like a whip, and she’d spun from him quicker than he could follow with his gaze.

All too rapidly, she vanished in the rising mists before dawn. Even so, the tip of her tail brushed his thigh, a mere inch from the base of his manhood.

Without hesitation, Zvorak had strode to her gown. Her woman’s fragrance, lush yet delicate as lilac blossoms, possessed his nostrils, then made a bid for his soul.

He inhaled like a dog scenting a bitch in full heat. Bundling the satin, lace and ribbons close to his chest, he’d called out, “Come to me, if you wish the return of your fine gown.”

She’d sent several in her stead to recover the ball gown. Zvorak had steadfastly refused them all, despite their royal status or high officialdom. He’d engaged in swordplay for the privilege of keeping her gown.

Finally, she’d come to him, dressed in the most expensive fashion of the times. With her demeanor aloof, and nearly dismissive, she warned him against any manner of pursuit.

It had cost Zvorak dearly, still, he’d played the gallant. Offering no effort at seduction, he presented the properly prepared garment to her. To his utter surprise, she hesitated.

Rising on tiptoe, she placed a kiss on his cheek. Her lips had been soft and fleeting as butterfly wings.

Closing his eyes, Zvorak remembered, and felt the torment anew. He’d known if he followed her then, if he gave chase like one more desperate suitor, she would never come to his bed.

“Sabella,” he whispered her name as he turned, and set the wineglass down.

Have a Cool Shapeshifting Day!


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~


Serena Shay said...

Nice Savanna! I can't wait to read more about Zvorak and Sabella's courtship!

Authorly confusion...isn't that the way it is sometimes. I employ the old glass of wine and a quiet corner when I want to try to get a handle on the what to do about my writing. Occasionally it works...and even when it doesn't, well wine and a few moments of quiet, I'll take it! hehe ~wink~

Savanna Kougar said...

Oh, wine, and a few moments of quiet... right now, I'd take a thick, malty, chocolatey chocolate malt, and simply time to savor it.

Serena, yeah, I can't tell if anyone other than me finds Zvorak interesting enough, and would want to read his and Sabella's story.

Pat C. said...

Yeah, know the feeling. I never thought I'd be writing about vampires either, until the idea snuck up on me. Those muses, what a nasty sense of humor they have.

"The Vampinator." Love it!

Since you just finished edits and have a new release out, you might have the author version of post-partum depression. Usually after I've finished a project, I find myself floundering around for days, sometimes weeks, with no idea what to work on next. My solution is to bull through it by writing scenes in notebooks, doing an inventory of all the leftovers in the closet, or even picking a title out of a jar. Anything to keep writing. Eventually the muse gets as bored as I am and hits me over the head, and I'm off and running again.

Zvorak should be fine as long as he stays in Montana. If he crosses into California, however, Wally and the Preacher might take his presence the wrong way.

Savanna Kougar said...

Pat, my muse loves sneaking up on me, and whomping me a good one with a story idea I can't resist, or become too invested in to stop writing.

Yeah, I think that is part of it ~ "the author version of post-partum depression" ~ I end up expending so much energy, I need to recharge.

Okay, I have to ask since I'm out of the mainstream TV and movie loop... Wally and the Preacher?

Bear in mind, Zvorak is exceedingly accomplished at taking care of himself. ~grins~

Pat C. said...

Just a little shameless self-promotion. Wally is the vampire hero of BELONGING. The Preacher is another slayer from the same book, which has turned into a trilogy. Remember what I said about nasty muses?

Savanna Kougar said...

Ah, forgive me! If I end up developing Zvorak and Sabella's story, I'll include Wally, and The Preacher in cameo type roles, with their author's permission, of course.

Pat C. said...

If you want to. It would probably be easier just to create a new slayer if you need one for a bad guy.

For weeks I've been toying with the idea of a vampire coming to Talbot's Peak and being driven out by the abundance of weres. Now I don't have to, yay! I'm sure Brandon Wayne would have words of advice for a fellow bat.

Hmmm ... Wally in Talbot's Peak ... With no vampires to feed on, he'd have to put the bite on the Tiger Yakuza. Then he'd hang out at Dante's and get up on stage and dance with Gypsy and Lamar while Jeremy sat in the audience, shaking his head. After a week the Peakers would be praying for Sam and Dean to drop by and put them all out of their misery.

Savanna Kougar said...

Pat, now there's a SCENARIO I'd like to see ~ your last paragraph.

Yeah, Zvorak knows of Brandon Wayne, but they've never met.