HAPPY SHAPESHIFTING VALENTINE'S DAY!
My Muse, the naughty unpredictable minx, nearly went on strike for today's flash scene. It was touch and go, with the first idea being one that couldn't be written as a post because the plot was way too complex, and it would have turned into, at least, a short story.
So, I hope you'll enjoy this flash scene that takes place at the Midnight Stardust Supperclub on Valentine's Day.
The Lonely Hearts Club and the She-Wolf
"Lonely Hearts Club," Sarielle whispered once she mentally translated the words from her language to the planet's American English language. "That's me."
Ever since leaving on this intergalactic tour of other wolfen shapeshifter worlds, Sarielle had practiced speaking the various languages while studiously learning about the many different cultures. Now she glided along the fringes of the supperclub's dance floor.
Whirling embraced couples, all of them in what she identified as a deep romantic trance, danced to a type of music she found heart-stirring and pleasurable. The playful but elegant notes made her feel deliciously supple.
Sarielle also listened to the lovely silken swish of her long gown as she approached the special area where men, all in full humanoid form, and clothed in what were called tuxedos, took turns partnering the women who, like her, obviously had no man or mate in their life.
What she thought was called a midnight buffet had been placed in this Lonely Hearts Club area. As well, sparkling beverages of all kinds spilled into stemmed glassware. Her nose inhaled a feast of fragrances, especially the quite virile man who began striding toward her as if he'd caught her scent and now hunted her.
Maybe he did. He certainly had the handsome build and the powerful loins of a hunter. Although, Sarielle couldn't distinguish his wolf kind by his smell or his, to her eye, spectacular humanoid appearance.
Further, she wasn't entirely certain of all the dating and mating customs in this geological region on Earth. It had been a constant confusion she'd been unable to sort out during her culture-learning sessions.
Dante had carefully explained about the three extraterrestrial she-wolfs that would be joining the Valentine's Day extravaganza at the Midnight Stardust Supperclub. At first, Dh'liam had believed his cubhood pal was pulling his hind leg. It wouldn't be the first time. They'd pulled about every prank imaginable on each other, almost to the day Dante had roared out of Talbot's Peak on his Harley.
Several weeks later, Dh'liam had taken to the back roads on his Harley, determined to explore the vast areas of America that remained mostly uninhabited. What he'd discovered and experienced could easily fill a set of old-fashioned encyclopedias. Now for the sake of his pack, and for those who lived in Talbot's Peak, he'd returned to make certain they remained protected from the monstrous evil he'd encountered -- far beyond the tiger shapeshifter, Shere Khan, and his Yakuza ninjas.
However, at this moment in time, all he wanted to do was protect, and dance with the magnificent she-wolf beauty of extraterrestrial origin. The instant, he glimpsed her heart-shaped face he'd loosed an inner howl, while his cock straightened like it was cupid's drawn arrow.
The otherworldly woman-wolf possessed a petite and svelte figure beneath her fluid, backless peacock-blue gown. Yet more impressive to him, her lithe muscles were power-packed strength, and he knew she could run like the wind.
What captured his notice first was her tumbled wealth of hair, most of it piled artfully on top of her head. At the time, she'd had her back to him, and he'd stared at the cascading curls of rich dark russet, unable to move.
When she'd finally turned around, and lissomely moved in his direction, Dh'liam had forced himself to halt in his tracks. He'd had to fight the urge to stalk her, nip-kiss her neck, then sink his fingers into her tresses.
Determined she would not be leaving his hunter's sight this night, he'd strode toward her. Eyes that were a gorgeous burnished gold followed his progress, and they both halted within a few feet of each other, their gazes fastening on each other.
Without hesitation, he offered her a slight bow. Not one that would take his gaze off her, however. "I am Dh'liam. Welcome to Earth. Welcome to Talbot's Peak. Welcome to my arms. Or, perhaps, you would prefer something to drink and a bite to nibble on before we dance."
A smile teased the corner of her bow-shaped mouth, and he couldn't help but ravish her lips with his gaze. At the same time, she offered her hand to his, the one he'd extended without thinking about it. With a grace he'd rarely known, her hand alighted on his, and Dh'liam held on as if she were his next breath.
"Dancing in your arms is quite delightfully acceptable, Mr. Dh'liam. My feet are anxious to enjoy the dance floor. I am called Sarielle for short." She paused, her eyes pure sparkle. "Is that how you say it?"
"Sarielle," he savored like a meaty bone. "Would that be considered your first or familiar name, my beautiful she-wolf?"
Her puzzled frown halted every cell in his body. "I can't sniff you. You are a wolfen shapeshifter?"
"I am. But I have learned how to hide my scent. A long story," he added. Howls! the love trap had sprung, and he'd been caught. And Dh'liam wasn't about to chew a hunk out of his heart to escape. No way on the Mother's green earth.
"Ah, you hide your scent from enemies. I understand. Sarielle is my chosen name, a first name as you would call it in your culture, Mr. Dh'liam."
He drew her closer. He couldn't resist. "It's just Dh'liam, or Liam, as my friends often call me." When she cocked her head in apparent confusion, he continued. "It's a family name. No Sam, Dave or Harry in our pack."
"Your touch is pleasing, Dh'liam." Her tone was a soft sultry growl, and she moved closer so they were mere inches apart.
With her enchantingly exotic face nearly beneath his, Dh'liam realized she now stood on tiptoe. He felt the heat of her loins against his. Her mating fragrance seared his nostrils. And, as he swept his arm around her slender waist, he became aware the big band era music was transitioning into the romantic strains of a waltz.
"Do you waltz, Sarielle?" he thought to inquire like a gentleman.
"You lead, and I'll follow. We often dance on the galactic cruise ship."
With a low raw growl only for her ears, Dh'liam swung his she-wolf among the other dancers. True to her words, Sarielle matched him effortlessly, and he whirled them around the dance floor in time to the moonspun music.
Her strength flowed against him, a grace he'd hungered for, and never known it until now. Now, this very fierce moment of knowing what he'd needed, what he wanted.
So, Dante had been right in insisting he refresh his ballroom dancing skills. Dh'liam even mentally thanked his sire and dam for all the lessons they'd made him endure over the years, given his family believed in a formal presentation of themselves at times.
As the tempo of the music slowed, she allowed the tightening of his arm. And, when he wrapped both arms around her, she draped herself against him. Her small, long-fingered hands stroked the back of his neck before she laced her fingers, and held onto him tightly.
The thought of her pressed against some other man, regardless of species, boiled Dh'liam's blood. He leashed his stud-possessiveness, willing his focus on Sarielle instead.
He listened to the quickening of her breaths that were almost wolfen pants. He listened to the rapid passionate beat of her heart. He felt the way her loins cradled the large bone his cock had become, and wished it would last forever.
"I crave fresh air," she murmured toward his ear, once the music faded.
Immediately, Dh'liam eased her against his side, escorting her to one of the tunnel exits that led to a small clearing, one surrounded by a stand of majestic fir trees.
"Will the cold temperature bother you, my beautiful she-wolf?"
"I am from a colder region. It will feel refreshing, Dh'liam. Besides, I will depend upon your arms around me."
Once they stood outside in the crisp winter air, she snuggled against him, her cheek pressed against his love-struck, fast-pounding heart.
"Lonely Hearts Club?" he asked, hoping against hope.
Sarielle had been headed toward the area that Dante set up for the women who arrived alone and wanted dance partners. Even though, Dante had explained about their extraterrestrial visitors, he hadn't said if they were unattached, un-mated.
Now Dh'liam had to know.
"Yes, I am a lonely heart." She hesitated, and he felt her quiver in his embrace. "I had a husband..."
"Had a husband?" he roughly barked out as he instinctively clutched her closer against him.
"We were matched. We were to be mates." She shook now, and Dh'liam knew it wasn't because of the cold.
"What happened, Sarielle?" His hands roamed her back, reflecting the urgency he felt like sparks of fire throughout his entire body.
"I was not a good mate to him... I tried. But it was so... ho-hum, I believe you would say."
Dh'liam wanted to laugh, to bust a gut with his howls of laughter. Instead, he buried his nose, his lips in her hair, and wrapped himself around his she-wolf. Somehow, some way, he could convince her to stay with him on Earth. He would convince her to be his mate -- he would convince her that he would never be a ho-hum husband.
~ Have a Magickal Valentine's Day ~
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~