Saturday, April 30, 2011
Octavia sat on the window seat, her knees drawn up to her chest. As she looped her arms loosely around her legs, she watched the moon rise. Two months had passed since they'd come to the cabin high above the artic circle. She marveled they were still in Alaska. The chill in the air seemed permanent and yet the days grew shorter. The nights lengthened taking over more of the day. Would she change any part of it?
Snores rattled from the bed center of the room. Tongson's heavy breathing told her he slept despite her lack of presence beside him. She'd calmed him earlier when she rushed to the bathroom violently ill. Nothing but that time of month she assured him. "Remember we're still human too," she'd whispered in between bouts of puking her guts out.
Finally, she'd dragged herself back to bed and slept. Tongson holding her and Tomas purring in her ear.
Poor Tomas. Since Peter’s call and Tomas's payment of the iou he owed her, he'd under gone a full body shave to appease Tongson and not have to make his way back down through the mountains alone to civilization. Still he'd made nice with Tongson and kept his hair under control. Tavia could see his head next to Tongson's on the pillow he'd placed for Tomas in the bed earlier.
Tavia sighed, resting her chin on her knees. Her hand stroked her stomach. She wondered how Mickey felt. She'd spent three weeks going through a similar malady. She'd whispered to Tavia what the problem was. Night Hawk's concern showed regardless how many times he'd vowed he wasn't worried.
Tomorrow's supply delivering contained to special items, one for her and one for Mickey. They didn't need them to know what the answer was. The clear pink plus symbol would confirm what both knew, two sparks of energy warmed their mothers hearts already. How would their arrival be taken? How much longer did they have to hide?
Tavia wiped a tear from her cheek. Too many months and she would not be able to shift, her travel would be limited. Trekking through the mountains as humans might draw more attention to them than if they traveled as a group of animals moving at night under the cover of the moon and her sisters the stars.
Why the Gods and Goddesses decided now to bless her she didn't know. Mickey had cried half the night when she realized what was happening. Her tears were happy and yet as Tavia held her she could tell the fear hungering to take over sat close by biding its time. Two new futures to guide and raise. Damn the blasted Yakouza and their power hungry leader!
Happy Weekend all! I'm off enjoying time working on a new story. Here is the latest for our group up in Alaska. Enjoy!
Friday, April 29, 2011
She swallowed back the bile that was making its bid for freedom and took several cleansing breathes.
That couldn’t be a rabbit’s tail, it just couldn’t. Maybe it was the head of a paint brush, or a cotton ball used to remove blood red nail polish—a color, not on her personal palette. Pillow feathers? The head of a Barbie doll? Yarn? Poodle fur? Snow—yeah right, only if it was the non-melting kind.
Despite the many possibilities she gave her eyes and brain for the sight before her, she knew it couldn’t be anything other than the bloody stump of a bunny tail and the too small to be real, footprints.
“Omigod, who would do something like this?” Meghan dropped into the wooden chair and rolled back into the chalkboard, fighting to beat the challenge her stomach continued to throw her way. What the hell would she do with it? Did one just sweep it into the garbage? Or call the cops?
No, no cops. Cami Ann Wilk, her college roommate, had warned her before she’d signed on to teach in Talbot Peak’s only elementary school, that the town was a little different and some of the children could be a bit rambunctious. Did that unruly behavior include leaving the bloody remains of a delicate woodland creature on her desk?
Meghan stood, keeping a fair distance from the desk and made her way over to the trash. She would grab the can, a few —hundred— paper towels as well the bottle of disinfectant she kept on the shelf above and take care of the mess. All without vomiting up her world-class, tuna salad sandwich—she hoped.
She would then gather up her lesson plans and go home where she could shower for at least the next few hours. She wasn’t normally such a pansy when it came to yucky stuff, but there was just something twisted about one of her sweet students leaving a bloody, bunny tail on her desk. It was almost as if she were teaching a bunch of animals and this was their way of honoring her.
“Ewww.” Not a picture she wanted plastered inside her head.
Back at her desk, Meghan was surprised to see the most beautifully colored butterfly flitting around the gruesome tail. Hopefully, it was mourning the loss of another of nature’s treasures and not slurping up the animal’s blood.
“Sorry, little winged wonder, but I have to remove your friend from my desk.” She removed several of the quicker-picker- upper sheets and prayed the hype was true and she would not get any of the animal blood on her hands. Still the butterfly hovered above the mess; its wings seemed to beat faster and harder than before. “Tell ya what, I promise to say some very nice words about your friend, before I toss him down the incinerator shoot.”
A closer look at the butterfly convinced her that she really needed to get home. No longer did it look like a caterpillar with wings, now, she could see the creature who left the teeny, tiny foot prints she had been trying hard to ignore. Its wings were getting smaller, legs were getting longer and his chest was getting, oh so much, wider.
“What the…,” She gasped, backing away from the scene playing out in front of her. Butterfly to man, reality blurred and Meghan was sure she would pass out in the next few seconds. When she awoke, they would send her to the loony bin, but that was okay, as long as the midnight-haired, violet-eyed, tall, tall drink of water would come to visit her.
“Meghan Keely, keeper of hope, please do not wipe away our Mother’s token. You will need it to make the change to your new life.”
Blackness edged away her sight, but it didn’t matter. Her last thoughts were clear. Oh goodie, he has a deep voice, too. When she decided to lose her mind…at least she did it right.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Today’s rambling is going to be about humans doing stooped things one might expect from animals. Take, for instance, this guy who pissed all over some cough drops because he couldn’t get his prescription filled. This is not how humans, even irrational ones, show passive-aggressive tendencies when told “no.” Humans throw things then threaten to sue. Canids and the occasional feline piss on things to show their displeasure. Humans also don’t generally consider barking at dogs protected free speech.
Of course, animals sometimes do odd, people like things, too. There appears to be a new species of shape shifter running around a small town in South Afica. It is seen mostly around a church, only at night, begins as a human and turns into a pig or a bat. Oh my, the puns that could be made with that! Don’t piss off the otters! There is apparently a river otter in Florida randomly attacking both humans and dogs. According to the Florida Department of wild life, this animal is using standard hunting techniques of predators taking down large prey and it “has no known identifying markings or tattoos.” Um… I didn’t know otters ever actually got tattoos or piercings.
So with that, I will bid you ado. Have a great week!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
From the Unicorn Lady ~ Gina Befera's 2011 calendar is entitled Unicorns Enchanted Journeys ~ now available online at Calendars.com ~
Tuesday purring greetings, shapeshifter lovers. A big howl and yowl of THANKS to everyone who came by during The Year of the Rabbit Blog Hop.
Okay, how can I resist? While Dash, Pat’s werestallion from yesterday’s flash scene, may already be taken by another in the love and lust department... still, what happens when a real unicorn spies him pretending to be what she is?
Yes, here is that scene for your flashing entertainment. ~hopefully, that is~
Ghelyssia lowered her muzzle, drinking the lovely cold water from the fast-running stream. Bubbles tickled her nose, and in the morning light, the reflection of her horn shimmered as if it phased into another realm.
Exploring the wilds of Montana, around Talbot’s Peak, had proven to be delightfully entertaining. Even beyond her expectation. With a flick of her tail, Ghelyssia spun on her back hooves, and gamboled toward a wooded area. The trill of birds beckoned her, and she decided to enjoy their songs before joining her friend, Z’Pasha, at their favorite clearing near the Pleasure Club.
Neigh-ho! The acrid hot smell of a stud burned her nostrils. Curious about the equine residents, especially the wild mustang population, Ghelyssia shimmied a quick buck, then trotted along the deer path snaking toward open rangeland.
What the disrespect to Epona and Bast?! The silly silvery glint caught her eye, before she slid her gaze over the handsome-enough stallion galloping below.
Who did that WereStud think he was fooling? A pathetic jest at best, his tinfoil horn tilted to one side. Had a human child made it for him?
With her ire aroused, and flaming through her, Ghelyssia whirled, galloping down the rocky winding path. She understood imitating one of her kind. After all, what equine didn’t suffer from horn envy, at times?
Usually amused by imitators, this time Ghelyssia scowled. Sparks flew from the corner of her eyes as she charged onto the wide open range.
What was the werehorse playing at? He should know better than to mock her kind. Hadn’t his dam taught him better. Taught him that Epona rules!
Had he actually grown up in a barn? No great matter, she’d show him how a real unicorn played. Played with a real horn.
Not caring that she wasn’t invisible, because she’d altered her coat to resemble a palomino with pale coloring, Ghelyssia leaped off the mountain trail. Lowering her head, she raced to catch up with the WereStud.
By the time he sensed her presence, it was too late. Digging her hooves into the rain-softened ground, Ghelyssia launched herself forward. The tip of her horn stabbed into his hindquarters.
The punch to his butt satisfied her, but hardly dissipated all of her outrage. She wanted more of his fleabag hide.
With a trumpeting squeal, the WereStud jerked to a halt, and planted his front hooves. Whirling, he faced her, a gleam of astonishment in his dark eyes.
Yes, I’m real, oats-for-brains stud. Let’s play.
Jumping up on his hind legs, he made a grab for her horn with his teeth. Deftly side-stepping, Ghelyssia returned the favor. Rearing part way, she seized the end of his horn with just enough force to jerk it back, then let it snap against his forehead.
You don’t get it, plug nickel pony. I’m real.
Shock glazed the werestallion’s eyes. Throwing his head upward, he backed up several paces fast. To his credit, he stood his ground then, and stared, the whites of his eyes showing.
Ghelyssia switched her tail menacingly. To torment him, she reared again, and attacked his fake askew horn with hers. As if they dueled, she knocked the ridiculous thing this way and that.
Because she didn’t injure him, the WereStud stood stock-still as she continued battering the flimsy tube. When it ripped off the elastic, Ghelyssia snatched it with her teeth.
With a toss of her head, she flung her prize through the air. Marching toward it, she took her time stomping it into the ground. After gazing at the silver confetti she’d created, Ghelyssia snorted triumphantly.
Spinning, she faced the WereStud. Confused by the grin decorating his mustang mug, she shook her head, then approached slowly. Eyeing him with fierce expectation, she demanded, Explain.
Camera, he clumsily mindspoke.
Casting her awareness in a wide circle, Ghelyssia found the culprit aiming a professional camera at them. At her. Do not fear. I will erase the device.
No? Ghelyssia’s curiosity flared to the high blue heavens.
I want to save Merry’s ranch. She works so hard. And she loves our place.
Our? Ghelyssia tilted her head, even as she prepared to blank the images into ether particles.
Merry is my woman. My mate.
Merry is a WereMare? Why isn’t she with you?
She is human. He grinned again, as if destiny had set a bucket of carrots and apples in front of him. You will be a YouTube star. It will bring people to our dude ranch.
Ghelyssia frowned. While the idea of being a digitized star appealed to her, it was unwise. Dude ranch? Wait, I understand. Where humans entertain themselves by riding horses, and pretend to be old-west cowboys.
They pay lots of money. We need it to keep the ranch going.
The mustang’s heart for his Merry enveloped Ghelyssia, and she warmed inside. Never one to deny true love or the sport of lust, she allowed pink sparkles to spray from her horn.
Yes, I will star on YouTube for you. Besides, everyone needs magic in their lives. Even humans.
With a spirited buck, and a shake of her mane, Ghelyssia turned tail. She galloped like the magickal being she was, toward the mountain.
Surely, Z’Pasha would understand, once she explained. After all, couldn’t it all be blamed on this method of manipulation humans called CGI? This computer-generated imagery they used to create a brand of magic with?
HAPPY SPRINGTIME SHAPESHIFTING
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Monday, April 25, 2011
“I’m telling you, I saw a unicorn.”
Merry kept her professional smile on, while inside her mind blasted Dash. “I assure you, Mrs. Houck, there are no such things as unicorns, not even in backwoods Montana. You probably saw an elk, or maybe a mule deer. At long distances it’s easy for the eye to play tricks.”
“I saw it too. I got it on camera.” Mrs. Houck’s pimply son Harold thrust his cell phone into her face. “It really was a unicorn. Look.”
Merry watched the video, having little choice. There were the usual shaky vistas of the mountains, Harold’s attempts to bring a soaring eagle into focus, and then –
Mrs. Houck was right; even with Harold’s dubious photography, you couldn’t mistake that for a mule deer. Clearly equine, the dark creature galloped effortlessly across a mountain meadow. The sunlight glinted off a bright, silvery spike thrusting out of its forehead.
“Well,” she said finally, “you’ve got me. That certainly does look like a unicorn, doesn’t it?”
Hang it all, Dash, we talked about this.
“It’s why we picked your dude ranch,” Harold said. “Everybody told us about the unicorn sightings. And here it is! It’s real! What do you think it is, a mutant horse or something?”
“I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s a myth.” She winked.
“Yeah, well, this myth is going right onto YouTube the minute we get back to the ranch. If this is fake, it’s the best darn fake I’ve ever seen.”
YouTube. Dear Lord.
Merry set a brisk pace back to the ranch. She’d guided her guests into the woods on a nature hike this morning, to show them the breathtaking vistas visible from the ridge above the ranch. Everything had been going so well. Then Dash had to go and pull this stupid stunt again, after he’d promised her and all.
Leaving her guests to the staff, Merry went straight for the corral. The solitary horse within stood dozing, head low, tail twitching idly at flies, the picture of innocence. Merry spotted the dried sweat on his hide, his slapdash efforts at cleaning himself off. The son of a spavined mare.
“Dash,” she snapped. “Get over here.”
The horse raised his head, peered at her and finally ambled over. He nibbled affectionately at her hair. Merry slapped his muzzle away. “Don’t play games with me. We had a really nice nature hike going this morning, until the folks spotted a unicorn. Again. Didn’t I tell you to quit it?”
The horse blinked big liquid eyes at her. Who, me?
Merry sighed. “Where is it? Never mind. I’ll find it myself.” She headed for the barn.
The horse whinnied in alarm. As she entered the barn she heard the creak of the corral gate. She’d have to work fast.
She found what she feared in a saddlebag draped over a stall door in the back. Up close, it looked a lot less imposing: the cardboard innards from a roll of paper towels, trimmed to a point and wrapped in tin foil to catch the sun. An elastic band had been threaded through the bottom like the strap on a party hat.
“Hang it all, Dash,” she muttered.
“It’s good for business,” he said from behind her. “I don’t see the harm.”
“Harm?” She whirled on him. “Those two nimrods the other month had rifles. Looking to bag them a ‘unicorn.’ They could have killed you, Dash!”
He shrugged carelessly. “They never got that close.”
She glared at him. In his human form he was strikingly handsome, in a mustang-rugged sort of way. He sported a broad chest and fine, strong legs in both his bodies. Merry fought to avert her eyes from his naked body. In either form, Dash was hung like a horse.
“It’s good for business,” he repeated. “People want to believe in romance and magic. It’s why they come to a dude ranch. Why not give ‘em something extra? Lure ‘em in with a miracle. It’s working, ain't it? Or would you rather lose the ranch?”
Merry darted toward him and threw her arms around his neck. He smelled of wild horse and sunlight and high mountain meadows. “Hang the ranch. I don’t want to lose you. If you got caught or killed, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“I won’t get caught. I’m good at this. I been doing it a while.”
“You been caught today already. Some kid took a video. He’s going to post it on the web.”
Dash brightened. “There, y’see? Free publicity. Best advertising you could get. Bookings will skyrocket.”
“Quit laughing, Dash. It isn’t funny. You could get hurt doing this.” She brushed his mane away from his eyes. “The ranch isn’t worth it. I’m not worth it.”
“Don’t you ever say that. This is my range too. I’ll do what I have to, to keep it for us.” He emphasized the “us.”
Merry couldn’t help but smile. After seven months she was only now coming to realize what it meant to be claimed by a werestallion. With a touch of mule in him, most like. Well, she could be muley too. “I think the unicorn should disappear for a while. Let the legend grow.”
He huffed out a breath. “Always want to ruin my fun,” he grumbled. “Not even a glimpse? These folks paid good money to maybe catch a peek of a real live unicorn. Give the people what they want.”
“Maybe a glimpse,” she relented. She made a face at the home-made horn she still held. “We need to get you something better. This thing won’t stand up to close inspection.”
“They never get close to me. That’s the point.”
“Let’s keep it that way. You going to be a hand for the rest of the day, or you going back to horse?”
“I think I’ll stay man a while. This being upright just reminded me what I can do with my hands.” He demonstrated, running his hard-as-hoof hands over her body. “Want to take a ride on the unicorn, little lady?”
She couldn’t stop her giggle. His hands weren’t the only thing hard about him, nor was the fake in her hand his only horn. “I should get back to work.”
“It’ll keep. I spent the morning mucking out stalls. Might as well put all that fresh straw to good use.” He guided her into a roomy box stall and shut the door behind them.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Howls and yowls! Bad Biker Bunny, one of Dante's buddies, welcomes you to the Year of the Rabbit Blog Hop.
Ravi glared at the object sitting right in the center of the coffee table. Its very banality offended him. He let his temper build to a satisfying blood-red peak before he bellowed, “Guri!”
His baby brother ambled in from the kitchen, chewing on a slice of bacon. “What?”
Ravi pointed a finger that trembled with rage at the alien thing. “What,” he snarled, “is that?”
“That?” Guri peered at it, not in the least perturbed. “It’s an Easter basket.”
“Easter.” Ravi curled his lip. “You bring a symbol of a foreign holiday into this house? You leave it right out in the open where anybody can see it? Especially Father?”
“Father doesn’t mind. I left him one in his study. Anyway, it isn’t foreign here. We’re in America now, remember?”
Sanjay trailed in, wiping his mouth. “What’s all the fuss? Hey! Someone’s left us an Easter basket.”
“You knew about this?”
“About the holiday?” Sanjay shrugged. “It’s hard to miss. They’ve had decorations strung up all over every store in town for weeks now.”
“And the chocolate.” Guri licked his lips. “Don’t forget the chocolate.”
Ravi peered at Guri suspiciously. “You haven’t gone Christian on us, have you?”
“Of course not. Although Christianity gets props for including chocolate as a sacrament.”
“It’s not a sacrament,” Sanjay said. “The Christians co-opted pagan spring rituals and applied them to their own absurd beliefs. They use chocolate because … ” Here he fumbled.
“Because it tastes better than unleavened bread?” Guri suggested.
“Yes, I suppose.”
“All right then, O Christian expert,” Ravi said. “Explain about the eggs and the rabbits. Why isn’t it the Easter Chicken? Rabbits don’t hatch from eggs. I don’t see the connection.”
“Well, because, well … ”
“And this ceremony of biting the ears off the chocolate bunny. Sanjay, you’ve studied comparative religion. Does any such rite exist?”
“It’s tradition,” Guri insisted. “Sergei says so. He is very wise and knows many things.”
“Indeed. He certainly knows how to pull your tail.”
“He wouldn’t lie to me. We’re very close.”
“Close. With a Siberian assassin. He toys with you, Guri, as he does with all his prey.”
Guri bristled. “You question his word? Go ask him yourself, then. See what he says.”
No, Ravi thought, he would not. He didn’t relish the company of the towering white tiger. Guri presented a far easier target. Or always had, until recently. “All right then, wise tiger’s protégé. Explain to me about the ears.”
“It’s an ancient rite, Sergei said. Their god demanded blood sacrifice. Rabbits were plentiful and easy to catch. Better a rabbit on the altar than the family goat. The ears were kept for proof of sacrifice. Like a receipt.”
“Indeed,” Ravi said. “And the eggs?”
“Fertility symbols, like the bunnies. Hope that the coming year would be a prosperous one.”
It certainly sounded plausible. Ravi looked to Sanjay for confirmation. Sanjay squirmed. “Sounds good to me.” Guri puffed out his chest.
“What about the Easter Bunny? You don’t expect me to believe in an Easter Bunny.”
“Of course there’s no Easter Bunny,” Guri said. “Do you think I’m an ignorant cub?”
“Then who leaves the eggs in the yard? The Easter Chicken?”
“Santa Claus,” Sanjay suggested. “Or is that the winter holiday?”
Ravi glowered at them both. “You’re making all this up.”
“We’re not,” Guri said. “Ask Sergei.”
Ravi shook his head. Another moment of this madness, he thought, and I will go tiger, right here in my robe. Vishnu help this family. “You, Guri,” he ordered, “you will get rid of the chocolate and the baskets and the eggs you hid in the yard, or I will beat you like a Persian rug.”
“Rakshasi will be angry. She wanted to hunt for the eggs.”
“Now, Guri. Before Father sees any of these foreign insults.”
Guri bristled. “I’m keeping the peeps.”
“Uhhh … ” Sanjay flushed with guilt. “The peeps are no longer a problem.”
Guri rounded on him. “You ate my peeps?”
“They were in the basket. I thought they were for anybody.”
“I don’t care who ate the peeps!” Ravi roared. “I want all evidence of Easter removed from this house! We will burn incense to Vishnu, as is proper.”
“Vishnu would like chocolate,” Guri grumbled.
“Perhaps Vishnu would like your head in an Easter basket. Shall we find out?”
Just then Tasman charged into the room. The tigers came to attention before their eldest brother. Tasman glowered at them all and brandished a chocolate rabbit.
“Who bit the ears off my bunny?” he demanded.
Bloody foot prints. What way to start a weekend. Peter Jackalope of the Rabbit clan cringed as he entered the back door of Tongson's bookstore. He knew something was up the moment he'd spied the footprints.
Tongson had entrusted him with overseeing the store and its contents before he left. He'd asked Peter to run the store and make deposits. Great, now someone or something was in the blasted store. Making the mess from hell he bet too.
"Hello is anyone there?' He knew better than to call out, but the size and number of the prints said two had entered. One more than he alone could take on. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
Two rings later, a deep voice answered. "Yeah, what ya want?" His deep Spanish accent gave him away. Tomas, aka the Latin tomcat, cut to the chase. He never minced words or actions.
"Tomas, Peter." Peter pulled the phone away from his ear as a hiss sounded.
"Pedro, have you no idea what time it is?' Peter smiled and nodded. So what if Tomas couldn't see him. At least, he'd answered him. Oh, yeah he meant verbally.
"Yes, I do. I got a problem down at Tongson's bookstore."
"And I should care why?" Peter's grin grew into snickering smile.
"Tavia said you would help." Peter shut up and waited.
"Blast her feathers to kingdom come. I knew she'd call in that IOU." Peter could make out a few Spanish words here and there. Tomas stopped cussing and probably venting. "Tell me what you need. I will do what I can."
Peter hesitated on entering the store. He backed out and ran down the loading dock stairs. At the corner of the building, he looked back. No one followed.
"Here's what I need. There are two sets of bloody footprints leading into the store. Neither are human. I got part way in and saw half-human and animal prints. I need reinforcements. Pronto." Peter grabbed his wrist. The phone shook every time he glanced toward the open door.
"Si, mucho problemas. How many do you think are in there?’ Tomas's dry chuckle grated out the phone and vibrated Peter's ear.
"Fuck if I know! I suspect a shifter worked magic to get in. Tongson did not screw with the locks. He said nonmagicals would be hurt by the force of power needed to change up the locks for the likes of those who sought him.” Peter moved closer to the street where he could see cop cars passing by.
"Look to your left. Do you see two dudes in long trench coats approaching?" Tomas's heavy breathing rolled out the phone's earpiece.
"Take two deep breaths. What color are they?'
Peter squinted and yelped. "You sent me two Tiger Yakouza to assist me?" Peter ducked down behind the garbage dumpster.
"No and yes. They look the part but are members of my clan. Remember all cats belong to different species and clans. My family is of the Yellow Tiger branch." Tomas meowed and growled.
Peter held the phone away from his ear. He looked over the edge of the dumpster. The two tall dudes stood at the entrance to the ally. They kept looking toward the store.
"Stop hiding and give Stanislaus the phone. He is in the black leather coat." Tomas's voice held no warmth. He wanted his orders followed.
Peter stood, swallowed and walked forward holding out the phone. "For you Stanislaus."
The dingy yellowed haired dude took the phone. "Thanks." He put the phone to his ear. "Tomas what's up?"
Several uhs and I see later, Stanislaus handed the phone back to Peter. He felt Peter jump as he gripped his shoulder.
"Easy dude. Kazim and I know what to do. If it’s magic, we're of dinjin ancestry. We can handle things. Tongson knows what's going on." Stanislaus tossed his coat to Peter.
Kazim did the same. "Watch the coats. The cops will be here any moment. Put those in the car marked Commander. Tell me we're inside."
Peter struggled under the weight of the coats. He managed to return the phone to his ear. "Tomas I don't know what you did, but thanks."
Tomas's ragged chuckle vibrated the phone. "Hell and back, you know full well what I did. Called in reinforcements liked you asked for. And I suggest you take off your shirt."
Peter looked down at his shirt. Why take off his white t-shirt? "Why do I want to do that?"
Tomas's deep howling laughter scalded Peter's ear. "To flag down the cops you idiot and also to not be a blooming target as you get the hell out of the way."
Peter hopped down the ally as fast as his jackalope feet could move. All the time hoping the cops showed up soon and didn't take pot shots at him anymore than he wanted the intruders to.
“Furred and Furry, looking for love in the bushes. Post response to box 34. Yes, I’ve got it. We’ll get it in tonight’s run. Thank you, goodbye.”
Zeva hung up the phone with a mild case of disgust running down her spine. She hated this job. Even more as once again, the little black box from hell jingle-jangled.
“Guts and Butts gazette, personals-how can I help you? SWR, looking for long-lasting love or one night stand. Post response to box 69. Yes, I’ve got it. We’ll get it posted in tonight’s run. Yeah, bye.”
Sheesh, way to really know what you want there…
The devil box squealed again.
“Personals!” She listened to the rabbit on the other end, repeating only the first part of his request before the tune hit her smack in the face. “If you like lettuce and carrots, hate getting caught in the rain…. No…just No!”
“For the love of chocolate bunnies and bubblegum eggs.” Zeva yanked the phone out of the wall and threw it across the room. Enough was enough. She was sick to death of posting the personals. There was nothing but bunnies seeking bunnies this weekend and she wasn’t up to reading, or typing, and especially hearing, one more cheesy come on.
There should be a rule at this damn rag that says alpha wolves shouldn’t have to be involved with the printing of bunny love. The little buggers were for chasing and eating, not hopping and bopping!
Now, being the decent wolf she was, she’d left them off the menu this weekend, but torturing her with their lusty requests was cruel and unusual punishment. It was time to talk to Nick about ending this torment of hers.
“Hey Zeva, here’s another personals request for you,” the office intern handed Zeva a slip of paper as she made her way to Nick’s office. “Your phone was busy, so I took a message. It’s kinda cute, ‘a tisk-it a task-et, let’s do it in your green and yellow basket’”
Zeva growled as she crumbled the message in her hand and continued to Nick’s closed door. She paused before entering and listened to the scuffling and yipping coming from within. What the hell was he doing in there? Or who, was he doing in there?
“I’m going to kill him and skin his flea-ridden hide.” Zeva fought back the animal simmering beneath her skin.
Nick was hers, damn it, even if he was too stubborn to admit it most of the time. And okay, so his hide wasn’t flea-ridden, in fact, it was a pretty fantastic. He was firm in all the right places, warm to snuggle against and tough enough to support a female and her crazy family. There was no doubt that Nick was every bitches dream. “Fine, instead of his skin, I’ll take the skanks.”
Without knocking, because what would be the fun in that, Zeva threw open the door and was stopped by the scene in front of her. Instead of another wolf, or Lupa forbid a cat, spread eagle across his desk, Nick was wearing big, black eyewear that was hooked to a small white box. The yipping was coming from him and his human tongue stuck out of his mouth like it would in wolf form while he ran in place. He looked…cute.
“What the hell, Nick?”
“Z-ah, what,” Nick sputtered, tugging the ridiculous headgear off before becoming belligerent in his embarrassment. “Why didn’t you knock!”
Zeva eyed the goggles laying on the floor where Nick had dropped them while his gaze stayed on her. It would be a race to see who snagged the specs first, but she knew she’d win. Even with most of the town doubting Nick’s decency and morals, she knew he was a gentleman underneath all the bluster.
With a fake right, she went left and slid between him and the object they both desired. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him back down. He could never hurt her.
“What are you doing, Nicky?” Zeva raised the goggles to her face and was instantly drooling. Bunnies of all different sizes and colors were running away from her. Their fluffy bunny tails, hip-hopping a mile a minute and she could barely contain her gleeful wolf.
“Zeva…,” Nick growled out her name and her sex went soft and willing.
“Virtual reality tail chasing, Nick?” Zeva moved to the back door of his office and opened it wide to the forest beyond. “Why bother with the fake stuff, when I’ve got all the tail you need right here.”
Zeva dropped to all fours and slid quickly into her wolf form. With a swish of her tail to further get his attention, she barked out the not so formal, ‘come and get me’ and took off like a shot.
The next day, much of the town complained about the yipping, growling, and barking sounds that filled the air for much of the night, but Zeva just smiled and went back to typing up the personals, filled with bunny lust and love.
~ Rebecca L. Gillan
“Bloody footprints. What a way to start the weekend,” the woman zookeeper uttered nervously. “I should have said bloody paw prints. I do not know what to do. I have double-checked. No, triple checked. I know none of our big cats escaped their areas. However, what do I tell the Pharaoh?”
Rialdo twitched his inner rabbit ears as he bent over for a closer inspection. The lioness assassin had made her kill with admirable efficiency, then left the tracks of her animal form. Intentionally, she’d moved at a languid pace toward the edge of the fertile oasis.
“I understand there have been recent attempts at a break-in.” Rialdo glanced at the anxious woman’s face before he glued his gaze on the bloody trail, and slowly followed it toward the Saharan desert. He’d arrived as the morning sun peeked over the horizon, and already the heat blasted him.
“Yes, yes. Despite our secrecy and our high level of security, there are...occasional intrusions. Attempts to...to steal our research.”
“You needn’t worry. May I address you as Anrika?” She gave a nod, impatient in her desperation. Finding himself all too carnally drawn to the cheetah shapeshifter, Rialdo’s gaze lingered moments too long. “You may be certain I will divulge nothing about your prehistoric living felines.”
“Your reputation is unblemished, even though you are a bounty hunter. My apology. I did not mean...it is your renowned expertise I am counting on.” She released a despondent sigh. “When I found the Sheikh, our nemesis, slain near the garden fountain...and since you are here visiting as a friend of the Pharaoh.”
“Ah, yes, our friendship is close to a century old, despite our chess rivalry. Do you wish me to inform him of the details?” The compulsion to take her hand in a gesture of comfort clawed through Rialdo. The woman’s loveliness had hunted him since he’d met her briefly several years back.
“Thank you, no, that is my duty. I will tell him. I simply wished to gain all knowledge first. Although...that was before finding these...these bloody awful paw prints...and thought maybe...oh, gawd.” She shoved long slender fingers through her curly, shoulder length hair that was the same multi-coloring as her cheetah fur.
With his detective instincts taking over, Rialdo followed the lioness shifter’s casual stride toward the Saharan desert. Unsurprised by the rolled parchment placed neatly at the base of the largest palm tree, he retrieved it, and instantly recognized the burnished gold seal.
“My investigative skills will not be necessary, Anrika.” Rialdo presented the parchment to her gaze. “This is Uvrissi’s signature seal.”
“Uvrissi? I have never heard that name. Who...and how? There are no more tracks.”
“She has obviously departed using her formidable magick.” At the sound of the Pharaoh’s commanding baritone, they both turned. He hovered several feet above the ground, gazing at them from his jet-sleek flying convertible.
“If you wish, my friend, I will break the seal and read her message to you.”
“Yes, wise. I see her influencing spell shimmering the parchment. Also, the smell of her perfumed scent is most alluring.”
With a natural rabbit twitch of his nose, Rialdo sniffed, noting the cinnamon spiciness meant to entice his friend. He slid his thumb nail beneath the wax seal, and unrolled the finely made parchment. A grin caught the corner of his mouth before Rialdo recited Urvissi’s message.
You may thank me for the timely passing of your enemy by arriving with all haste to the Interspecies Pleasure Club. I could not allow your life to be endangered by the Sheikh’s foul scheme against you and your sacred cats, which I overheard quite by blessed accident.
“The Pleasure Club, my friend, you did not tell me--”
“That I indulge in the mating arts with the frequency of a rabbit?” The Pharaoh interrupted. After an aristocratic lift of a brow, a brief smile twisted his lips. “By the way, dear Anrika, the Sheikh’s body strangely vanished while I gazed upon it.”
“Vanished, my Pharaoh? I do not understand. By this Urvissi’s powers?”
“No. I believe the djinn realm of his ancestors claimed his flesh remains.”
“Ah, so it ends rather well, and with little expended effort.” Rialdo scrolled the message, then with a flick of his wrist presented it the Pharaoh.
“My thanks to you, Peter Cottontail friend, your assistance to Anrika, no doubt eased her distress a bit.”
“Yes, quite. I was frantic.” Anrika bestowed a smile on Rialdo, causing his inner tail to shake vigorously, joyfully.
“So, you see your weekend is saved. All is in order with our Big Cats. Cristoz is at his post, masterfully in control of our realm.” The Pharaoh lowered his flying convertible beside them. Even though it was brilliantly patterned in the ancient Egyptian style, with turquoise blue and life-flowing red, one’s eye remained captivated by the demigod’s impressive physique and demeanor.
“Will you keep the appointment with Urvissi at the Pleasure Club?” Rialdo asked because he could, being on familiar terms with the Pharaoh.
A wicked and large smile lit the demigod’s face. “I say we three should skim the winds, and take due advantage of Urvissi’s hospitality. Hop in, Peter Cottontail, and give assistance to Anrika. After all, this is your time to resurrect and rise to the occasion. Is it not?”
“You forget, my friend, I am not the Easter Bunny.” Rialdo pretended to be offended, even as he sprang into the back of the luxurious aircraft.
Anrika accepted his hand, and ‘rise to the occasion’ described the state of his cock, especially when she seated herself cozily beside him. Was she truly attracted to him?
As they rose upward gently, Anrika leaned close. Her nose feathered his earlobe, feline nuzzles of affection. It ended all too soon as the Pharaoh rocketed skyward.
"Why don't you take off your shirt?" Anrika fisted his gentleman’s vest, and backed him toward the sumptuous, very bouncy bed. “I promise the only dining I want is the kind where I devour you, and you devour me with your mating prowess. I have heard it is exceptional.”
Rialdo slid his vest off faster than his next breath, and let it drop to the floor. With clever fingers, Anrika clawed open his buttons with her long nails, while her lips teased and nipped his. She shoved his fine linen shirt from his shoulders, even as he shrugged so it landed in an untidy heap beside him.
“At your service,” he gutturally mouthed against the supple play of her lips.
“Rrrrrrrrr, bounty hunter.” Her slim hand cupped the base of his cock through his trousers. Slowly, sensuously, she rubbed, then stroked upward. His cock jutted like a jackrabbit, filling her palm. “Yes, rrrrr-purrrr, you are at my service.”
With the quickness of his kind, Rialdo undid his trousers. Anrika unzipped him, her touch deliberate and provocative. Entranced by her half-lidded gaze, and the feral shine of her eyes, Rialdo waited.
Her lips pursed in a satisfied, but passionate moue as she gave his shoulders a shove. Rialdo fell backward at her sexy command. With a bounce, he landed on the ultra thick mattress designed for his rabbit shifter kind.
Languidly, his cheetah woman disrobed, her every movement an invitation to mount her, to mate her with bold rapid thrusts. Trapped by his need to strike his cock inside her feline earthy heat, Rialdo watched her stretch her sleek golden body like an indolent goddess.
“Anrika,” he rasped. Could his heart hip-hop any faster for her?
She fastened her gaze on him as she approached, her steps like a huntress. The passionate blaze of her eyes ate him alive -- his face, his torso, then his tall, ruddy cock. He dripped like a damn beggar for her.
Grasping his thick shaft, she leisurely swirled her palm over him, and Rialdo thought his balls had turned into hard-boiled eggs. His hips arched high, and he grunted with the ache of his rut.
“I like how much you want me, my rabbit man,” she throatily purred.
After a wild flash of her gaze, she lowered her mouth to his crown. The dainty lap of her rough tongue around his slit caused Rialdo to clench his eyes. At the same he was paralyzed, waiting for her to pounce. Waiting to penetrate her steamy musky sheath.
With a final flick of her tongue that sensitized his slit unbelievably, she rumbled deep in her throat. Rialdo’s eyelids snapped open, and he watched her slink above him.
There was no need to ask his Anrika what she wanted. What she desperately craved. He knew.
Rialdo felt the bedding ripple as she widened her legs, and lowered her pussy. Her carnal heat seared his cockhead.
With a mindless lunge, he thrust hard and quick. Her hands captured his wrists, her fingers seizing like claws. Rialdo groaned with the incomparable silk of her tight sheath. When his cheetah woman growled, his cock turned into a breeding jackhammer.
Savanna Kougar ~
Happy hopping and bopping...
“It is time, sweet boy.” Her sadness could be seen all around, from the drooping flowers to the weeping trees. The sun shed less warmth and the songs of nature were muted.
In her arms lay a gentle, white ball of fluff wheezing and gasping for its last breath. It’s normally gold aura which spoke of divine protection and wisdom had turned to a dark soupy gray. Death would soon be upon the bunny.
“Yes, Mother.” Adair stood upon the shaking shoulder of his purest love, feeling her pain as if it was his own.
“Go in peace, old friend. I shall eagerly await your return.” His Mother cried a rainbow of tears, paving the way for her friend’s rebirth. Another life-Another blessing.
The rattling stopped as an accumulation of shimmering color rose from the now quiet animal. The mass moved close to his Mother, drawn to her radiating goodness, and made its goodbyes before drifting high up into the sky. The soul had departed, but it would return one day and would once again become a part of the natural order.
“Has a replacement been found, Mother?”
“Yes, Adair,” Mother whispered. “Her name is Meghan Keely and she lives below, a human, in a town of shifters.”
“Does she know what she is? What she is about to become?”
“No, my butterfly warrior, but I trust you will see her through the adjustment period and protect her as she learns to lead.”
“Of course, Mother.”
Adair was honored to be tasked with guiding the new hope into being even though he knew the journey would be arduous. Humans doubted everything and kept their trust locked away in the deepest, darkest hole they could find.
“I am ready, Adair.”
Perhaps Miss Meghan Keely would be different than the other humans he’d known. Maybe she would accept the change with grace and dignity.
Adair leapt into the air, raised his sword and relieved the bunny of it soft little cotton tail. The rest of the bunny body disintegrated into ash in his Mother’s arms and was released to the four winds.
“You honored me with your presence in life, now I honor you in death.” Adair whispered, raising the tail high and bowing his head, he started to sing. He sang the song of life and love as he flew the gift down towards town. Blood dripped across his feet while still he wondered how the new light would take to her calling.
Maybe...No, they always screamed…
Happy Earth Day, everyone and have a very happy Easter!
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Marissa smiled distractedly at the tiny woman dressed in traditional Iranian clothing who’d just ordered one of her “micro brews.” Talbot’s Peak was no Mecca of civilization, but they did have a diverse enough population that a burka was not so rare as to stop conversations. The smile was because of what the woman ordered.
Marissa loved coffee in all its forms and kept a small stock of specialty roasted beans for her mad experiments, as Mooney put it. She listed the various specialty cup-at-a-time brews she had mastered on her menu but usually the only people to drink them were her and Mooney. Even as busy as she was, the idea of brewing up a cup of Iranian qahwa was enough to bring a smile to her lips. Quhwa, sometimes called “the wine of Islam,” was one of her very favorite. The technique for roasting the beans for that Middle Eastern brew had been developed in Iran hundreds of years ago.
She watched to woman take a seat at the window as she pulled out her tin of special, home-roasted beans. This batch was a few days old. She almost wished she had enough time to roast some fresh. It was kind of silly, really, but the idea of making a drink for someone from Iran tickled her fancy; she couldn’t help wanting to impress. She was also a bit nervous. If someone were to know if she had gotten it wrong, this customer would.
Dorri watched the blue haired woman grind beans for her order. What a surprise to find a drink of her homeland so very far from home. Lexor had mentioned she should pop in for a cup of coffee in the shop below his apartments, saying “the monkey child” did a decent job of her day craft.
What an odd thing for him to say, she mused. This woman was odd, true, but she was obviously no child. Dorri had no idea what to think of him calling the running of this coffee house as a day job. She had to admit that part of her confusion was probably linguistic. Women didn’t have “jobs” in her home land. They sometimes had professions or trades, but never something as temporary as a job. The scent of very fresh coffee filled the air of the comfortable little shop with the smell of warm grass and caramel—the smell of expertly roasted beans at the peak of ripeness. This blue-haired woman, odd though she was, was clearly a craftswoman, not a common day laborer.
Dorri was a little surprised by the wide variety of species in this business. There was an even blend of carnivores, herbivores and omnivores—humans included. In her many centuries of life, she had never known the three to co-mingle so freely. Humans were probably not aware of it, but they had always ended up grouped with omnivores. They didn’t like to think of themselves as animals, but they were definitely apes, just not shifters. Where you found one type of feeder, you usually could find a shifter of the same type. There was a huge population of bear, raccoon and other omnivorous shifters in this area, though like the humans, they lived completely separate from the imported shifters.
Except for the local bats. That one had Dorri confused. Why would the smallest mixed eater species co-mingle with carnivores? She had seen one actually in the process of forming a mate-bond with a coyote last night! This was such a strange town. She could see why her Lexor chose to remain here, now that he had told her what to look for. She realized now that she had been foolish to let her father break them up. She had never found a male who could fire her blood the way her Egyptian scoundrel could. She sipped the excellent cup of coffee as she pondered the centuries of loneliness she’d endured because of her youthful need to do as her family directed. She was no spring kitten anymore, though. And she was here, in a place where all things seemed possible. Maybe, just maybe, she could convince Lexor to give her another chance at the happiness she’d let slip through her claws.
Full moon howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers. First, the good news. Kandy, Zin, and Zol, my heroine and heroes in Kandy Apple and Her Hellhounds, have a home with Siren-BookStrand. And, I couldn’t be happier. Currently, I’m looking at an August 2011 release date.
With Serena Shay’s upcoming release, A MAGICAL RETURN, and my Kandy, yep, magick is definitely in the air around here.
A big hug of thanks to our own Rebecca for all her graphic artistry on the avatars, and on our logos.
Once upon a time on Earth, we Shapeshifters ruled. That thousand year reign has been nearly lost to history, and now belongs to the timeless mists surrounding this third planet from the sun.
The only remnants are myths and legends, and a few ancient ruins. Yes, there are written documents. However, they are hidden away, and mostly used for sinister and despicable purposes.
During my epoch, Earth, or Galaxias, as we knew her, orbited the Grand Light as the fourth planet, and later as the fifth. At that time, Venus was not with us. Mercury and his two sisters were. A colossal comet streaked into the solar system, and instead of allowing the destructive force to claim Galaxias, we hired a space-faring, super race to capture the barren comet.
In retrospect, adding the comet to the gravitational dynamics of the solar system backfired on us, because it allowed for a climate change conducive to the rise of the dinosaurs. Even though, these massive creatures were no danger to us, those who had brought their genetics to Earth proved to be the Betrayers.
And, they still are.
The Betrayers, as a race, have remained on Earth. Many wars and battles have been fought at their instigation, and some in an effort to rid the world of their presence.
As of this time, April 2011, the Betrayers, these Grays are on the rise. They threaten all Life on my beloved Galaxias.
I am a Slayer.
I am invisible to them because of their arrogance. They have no natural love of animals. They sense only fur and meat. My blood is meant only for their constant genetic experiments.
Yes, I will own the advantage, despite their advanced mind capabilities, and their manipulative technologies. The real challenge will be the primitive rigors of life in what is called the early 21st century.
My real test is mental survival. Will I successfully negotiate the labyrinth of the human mind, as well as the fractionalized minds of surviving shapeshifters? For, by creating endless mayhem and agony, the Grays have split their psyches against their divine natures.
Raising my arms in reverence, I part the etheric curtain, and gaze at the moon on the eighteenth day of April. For long moments, her celestial breath becomes my breath. Once she invites me into her embrace, I merge and she becomes my through-the-mists barge.
On the white-jewel beams of the Great Feminine, I arrive in Talbot’s Peak, the new haven for shapeshifters.
Or, for those of you with a bent toward science, I utilize the moon’s 2012-activated frequencies. In instants, I exchange my particles from my where I was in time, to where I land now, the midnight forest close to what is called the Interspecies Pleasure Club.
Land. On my four paws. I’m in trouble. Somehow, I have been morphed against my will into my animal form. With my instincts kicking in, I sniff the breezes while peering through the deep darkness for the nearest safe thicket.
The odor of hunting werewolves shivers through me. Paralyzed for an instant, I then leap in the direction of a small bush still shrouded by autumn leaves. Too late!
Four sets of paws race toward me, vibrationally thundering the ground. I hear their quickening pants in anticipation of the chase, then the kill. The rending of me from limb to blood-spurting limb.
Launching forward, I sprint, my hindquarters driving me ever faster over the moist fecund ground. With the hungry werewolves hot on my trail, and way too close to my tail, I zigzag between the large tree trunks. The vegetation is all too sparse here.
Still, I am a survivor. I have been prey many times. With fear coursing my blood, I sense for any means of escape. Seeing chrome riding machines, and the light from the above-ground bar, I ran flat out until I am weaving madly between the wheels.
Crashing thuds follow me like dominos. The motorcycles, as they are called, must be flying in all directions. I race for the bar’s entrance, and as the door opens, spilling a pathway of light, I charge between one of the patron’s legs. He shouts a string of curses, then I hear, “What the fuck! Is that a goddamn rabbit?”
Inside, I dash wherever there is open space. Roaring growls split the air. Some of the women shriek. Drinks splash and spill. Glass shatters on impact. Chairs scrape the floor, one right after another. The jagged sound hurts my ears.
“It is a fucking rabbit.”
“Someone grab dinner.”
With bedlam following in my wake, I avoid the surprised stomp of boots, the tipping tables and the falling chairs. I hear the door being bolted, then the slam of werewolves against the heavy, obviously steel-reinforced wood planks.
As the saying goes here, I’ve jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. And, everyone wants me for dinner.
With a giant hop, I dart behind the bar, and run the length. Just as I dive between several liquor bottles, giant hairy morphing hands come real close to grabbing my ears and tail.
With my heart beating fast and hard against my ribs, and the blood pounding in my flattened ears, I scrunch backward, behind the tall bottles. Making myself as small as possible, I press against the walls of the storage compartment beneath the bar.
“If anyone shifts you’re banned for a week.” The dominant voice reigns over the mad-hatter frenzy. “Barry, you and your crew, throw out whoever needs to be tossed on their furry asses.”
“Sure thing. Need to tell ya, Dante, that critter don’t look like no ordinary rabbit.”
“It’s red.” A female voice barks squeakily. “And tall. Extra long legs.”
“Anyone here stop to think it might be a shifter, and a customer?”
It’s this Dante’s commanding voice. I stop my frantic quivering long enough to train one ear forward.
“Couldn’t be a customer, Dante. It busted in here, running pell mell like it was rabid or something. You shoulda seen the leap it made when it dashed behind the bar. Want me to show you were it’s hiding?”
“Yeah, Kelly. Get your shift under control first.”
“Well, you’d be running scared too, if a pack of werewolves were snapping at your tail...and you were a rabbit.”
The woman’s spirited voice sends a jolt of much-needed warmth through me. But, what now? I’m unable to shift yet. Fear has me in its icy-taloned grip. I can't even move.
There’s a pause, and I feel everyone’s attention focused on this Dante. He must be the alpha in charge. Although, that is not my intel.
“Listen up,” he growls authoritatively. “Is there anyone here who has a fondness for rabbits? And, I don’t mean for good eating. Got it?”
In the heavy silence, I tremble, but avoid rattling the bottles.
“Yeah, Dante. I had a rabbit girlfriend. Once.” I feel the man’s glare before he speaks again. “No,” he growls sharply, “I didn’t eat her at the first full moon.”
“Ridge Runner, over here. Bend my ear privately. Kelly, get drinks for everyone on the house. Back off,” Dante orders, “give us some breathin’ room.”
An eery quiet takes over the place, and I listen to Dante’s and this Ridge Runner’s footsteps come closer. They sit at the bar, and fast enough, their noses sniff me out. The frequency of it travels through my bones.
Even though, I manage to angle my ears toward them, I hear only the low sound of their voices, but no words. If I could only shift...
“Problem here?” the young woman’s voice floats on the airwaves beautifully. “Oh, oh, there is a bunny here.” Her true joy stuns me at the same time it fills me with some relief. “Where are you bunny? Here, bunny? All I want to do is hold you, and pet you...I promise.”
“Damara, you’re underage. What are you doing here?” Dante’s voice is stern, yet also kind.
“I told you. I want to dance. Like Gypsy does. I’m learning. Besides, you need me right now.”
“I better not find out who let you in here,” Dante growls like a protective father.
“No one,” Damara proudly lilts, as she continues in my direction, moving behind the bar. “Bunny...beautiful rabbit...I’ll carry you out of here.”
I know suddenly why Damara is drawn so strongly to rabbits. The scent of her blood hums through me. She is a witch keeper of hares, and draws strength from their companionship. Although, I am uncertain if she is aware of her heritage.
As her light footsteps approach, I stretch just enough to view her face. She bends over to look for me, and our gazes meet. When she smiles, her surreal radiance is like the moon.
“Oh, magical, fantastical,” she murmurs. With a slow hand, she sets the bottles to the side, then reaches forward, her palms open, her hands soft. “My magical, fantastical bunny,” she croons. “Come here, please. Please...”
My muscles cooperate, and I gradually lengthen myself. With a sniff of her fingertips, I give a hop right into her arms. She rises hugging me to her bosom, and I feel her smile of sheer delight. “Oh, you are a big bundle of bunny goodness. And, what a lovely red chestnut color you are. Just like my pony.”
“Stay away,” she warns, once she’s carried me a distance. “Except for Ridge Runner. He can come with us.”
“He better,” Dante rasps with quiet alpha power. “He’s your guardian from now on. For both you, and the rabbit shifter. Damara, do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” Damara trills over her shoulder. “I wonder what you look like? I bet you’re as beautiful human as you are a rabbit.”
“Yeah, I bet she is too.” Ridge Runner strides beside us.
Is that carnal hunger I hear in his voice? It’s been so long since -- ignoring my sudden yearning, I cuddle into Damara’s hold, and thank the Most Sacred for my rescue.
KANDY APPLE AND HER HELLHOUNDS
Kandace doesn’t know why she’s a witch with real powers. Despite her abilities, she’s never been able to track down her bio parents. When the Tuxedo Twins tempt her with their knowledge about her true heritage at a high society event, Kandace agrees to dance with the mysterious Supernaturals. Suddenly threatened by the omnipresent evil she has been warned about in her dreams, Kandace must bring forth the greater magick within her. She battles to save her kidnapped sister, then herself and her homeworld from an ancient enemy. Zol and Zin come to her rescue, and she discovers they will protect her no matter the ultimate cost to themselves.
What happens when two of Hades’ most mission-accomplished Hellhounds see a witch sliding down the bannister after her magickal heist of a painting? Zolivar and Zindale decide they’ve found just the right Kandy Apple to lick for Halloween. Looking for a mate and to create a triad of power, Zol and Zin use every passionate persuasion to woo, then win their chosen witch. However, will their Kandy Apple stay with them once she learns they are unable to fall in love like humans? Or, will she choose to return to her homeworld? Because, as Hellhounds, they are bound to Earth.
Year of the Rabbit Blog Hop
Just in case you want a different kind of egg treasure hunt... as in hot fun flash stories and hawt pics... also fab prizes, with the grand prize being a Nook... well, a bunch of us authors are combining our talents this Easter weekend, April 23-24, for a blog hop. Take a preview peek here ~ justromance.me ~
Here at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS we’ll be hopping and bopping, also, and there just might be a few bunny shapeshifters celebrating Spring with fertility rites at Talbot’s Peak during the blog hop. Or, maybe not. Ya never know who, or what kind of shapeshifter/paranormal being/human, will show up.
HAPPY EASTER SHAPESHIFTING
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~