Tuesday, May 29, 2012

How to Obedience Train a White Wolf ~ Hint: You don't.

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Okay, it's all Pat's fault. I'm following her 'lead' and taking my cue from her fabulous flash scene on Monday. Yes, another *obedience training your wolf* scene. Only trouble is, my flash fiction doesn't have quite the clever cache, and my heroine doesn't know the dog on the other end of the leash is a wolf.

Still, it was fun to write.

How to Obedience Train a White Wolf ~ Hint: You don't.

Kymber huffed a long sigh, then blew her long thick bangs out of the way. How she'd gotten talked into this... well, yeah, her stupid jackass of an ex -- he brayed like a damn donkey when he climaxed -- had promised to buy her a puppy she couldn't afford, telling her she should assist at the obedience training class to prepare -- give the pup a good home.

Shuddering, Kymber forced the terrible image of her braying ex out of her mind, then gazed down at the roster. It took several blinks to focus, but yep, everyone was present, even after last week's bizarre, more-than-crazy episode. That is, of course, except for the weird woman, herself, who smacked her colossal wolf with a ruler.

So too bad, Kymber had missed the beastly mating antics in the corridor, and had to hear about it secondhand. At the time she'd been chasing after a Yorkie who escaped his leash. Yeah damn, okay, she'd caught the YouTube vid later... however, the only thing captured by the phone camera had been two wolf-looking dogs covered in fire extinguisher foam.

Hearing the shrill voice of a kid shouting curses that should get him grounded with no computer access for at least a week, Kymber shot her gaze toward the gym's entrance. What the... what was with all the wolf hybrids?

A monster of a dog with a snow-white coat tugged a freckle-faced boy inside. "Like a husky pulling a sled," Kymber muttered.

She suppressed an urge to laugh as the infuriated boy clenched his teeth and kept trying to dig his heels in on the slick floor. The kid's face turned beet red with his effort, and his futile attempts to yank on the long leather leash were downright comical.

But why was the monster wolf-dog now making a beeline toward her, as if she'd been changed into a liver treat by a wicked witch with a serious itch to use her new, super-powered wand?

Okay, so her imagination was vivid, silly, and running amok as usual. Still, that didn't account for the fact that the white mountain of a dog now locked his dark intense gaze with hers.

With the boy in tow, the wolf-dog pulled like a steam engine -- as she'd heard the expression -- only stopping when he stood before her. Crap, his black wet nose was level with her belly button. Kymber clutched the clipboard roster hard.

"Problem?" She spoke with far more steadiness than she felt.

"That's the last time I ever do you a favor!" The kid shouted at the dog. "I don't care what mom says. I don't care if you can't shift... friggin' A-hole. Here." The red-faced boy flung the leash at Kymber, and she automatically caught hold of it. "He belongs to you now."

"Wait!" Kymber shouted as the kid spun around, then stomped away at a rapid pace. "Wait, I don't want to take him to the dog pound."

"He d-e-s-e-r-v-e-s the pound," the boy flung over his shoulder.

Before Kymber could think about chasing him down, the kid disappeared out of the gym. In the meantime, the dog shoved his large muzzle against the V of her thighs, seemingly very much at home with her.

When she moved the clipboard out of the way, then slowly gazed downward, the monster dog pricked his ears high on his handsome head, and looked at her attentively. Was that lust flickering in his eyes?

No, it couldn't be. Must be her over-active imagination once again. Kymber mentally shook herself as she twined the leather lead around her hand, a natural move. She'd been a dog walker in New York city for a couple of years.

"I don't even know your name."

After a rumbly woof that sort of sounded like 'Stephan', the wolf-dog sat on his hindquarters nice as you please -- as if she'd commanded him to 'sit'.

"Since it appears as if this... animal, is going to behave, I'll get the class started. Will you be staying?"

Kymber snapped her gaze upward at Mrs. Murphy's understandably tense voice. "Sure... unless he drags me out. Sorry, lame attempt at humor -- I don't know what to think."

"Never had these," Mrs. Murphy paused, "unusual situations. Until I moved to Talbot's Peak."

"Yeah, I know. Me too. But it looks like everything is okay," Kymber hastened to add, even as her stomach somersaulted like mad.

With a nod, Mrs. Murphy departed.

"Heel," Kymber ordered, just to find out what would happen.


Zhevan smartly whipped around as he'd seen obedience dogs do when they performed, and sat beside the woman who smelled like his dream goddess.

Such a bummer he couldn't morph into his human form, not for three more days. Playing an out of town, week-long gig with his rock band -- a commitment made before he and his white wolf pack settled permanently in Talbot's Peak -- he'd foolishly stayed human.

Yeah, truth to Mother Moon, there'd been a good reason at the time. Too many cops had been hanging around the club looking for any excuse to bust the owner. He'd refused to pay them protection money.

The cops' electronic spy gadgets had been a dime a dozen at the club. Then, he'd heard their subtle whine the instant he'd stepped inside the band's shared hotel room.

Zhevan had decided to forego shifting to wolf with his pack mates, and watch over their instruments. Beside, it gave him a chance to sleep in.

Playing regularly at The Pleasure Club took its *he wouldn't trade it for anything* toll. Howls of confession, he'd never been anywhere close to saint when it came to females, and the wolfen bitches had been hotter than Hades on the day of Judgement. And hot for him.

Now, all Zhevan wanted with a savagery that raced his heart as if he'd run the forest all night -- was the human woman who knew how to hold a leash. His leash.

Oh howl yeah, she'd figure him out. When to unleash him. When to hold the lead good and tight. When to... but that was the future, their future as mates.

Mating wisdom, bred into him generation after generation, told him to seize 'now' with her. A nearly impossible challenge, since her irresistible scent wrapped around his cock and squeezed.

Basking in her female fragrance, Zhevan leaned against her curvaceous thigh and made himself comfortable. All he had to do was pretend to be her obedience dog. At least, for the next three days until he could morph. Then...he licked his chops.

Scat, he needed to concentrate. Be her dog. The one she would never take to the pound.

"Heel," she smartly commanded, then strode forward.

Zhevan obeyed, careful to keep pace with her. Later, he would let his mate know he was the alpha wolf in charge, that her obedience training in pleasure had now begun.

Have a shapeshifter kind of day!


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Monday, May 28, 2012

Back to School

“All right, class.” Mrs. Murphy clapped her hands smartly. The dozen dog owners brought their pets to heel and formed a line in front of the instructor. The dogs, far more informal, sat, scratched, tugged on leashes, lolled tongues, tried to sniff each other, and, in one unfortunate case—

“Miss,” the instructor said icily. “Please control your—” She hesitated to call that giant, wolfish thing a dog. “Animal,” she finished.

“Yes, ma’am.” Ziva tugged sharply on the leash. Nick, the bastard, went right on enthusiastically licking his balls. Ziva nudged him with her foot. “Quit it,” she muttered, “or we’re out of here.”

Nick left off his last-minute wash and got up. He shook himself and peered up at her with bright yellow eyes and a hanging tongue. Ziva studiously focused on the instructor.

Of all the stupid kinks to indulge her twisted mate in. As if the desks and the rulers and the schoolteacher outfits weren’t bad enough. Watching a dog obedience trial on TV had sparked this latest fetish. For an alpha, Nick seemed hell-bent on submission, but only on certain terms.

As long as he submitted only to her, maybe she shouldn’t complain.

She spared a quick glance at her fellow students. There seemed to be an even mix of young and adult dog owners looking for help in training their pets. All were human. She and Nick were the only shifters in the class, and probably the only ones here for the discipline aspect. Nick had picked out the choke-chain collar himself.

Lessons began with “sit.” “Keep the dog’s head raised and press down firmly on the hindquarters,” Mrs. Murphy ordered. The class followed instructions with varying degrees of success. Most of the dogs caught on after a couple of tries, and eventually the line achieved uniformity.

Except, of course, for Nick. He locked his hips and wouldn’t budge no matter how hard Ziva yanked on his leash and shoved at his butt. The son of a hound. She knew what he wanted. Ziva drew her hidden ruler out of her blouse and whacked him smartly on the butt. Nick promptly sat. He just as promptly bounced back up again. “You want it, don’t you, you dirty dog?” Ziva murmured, and paddled him again. This time Nick stayed sitting. His tongue hung out of the side of his muzzle.

“A-hem.” Ziva looked up into Mrs. Murphy’s frigid glare. “We do not strike our pets,” the woman said. “Gentle, firm and loving. These are the keys to obedience.”

“He’s fine with it. He likes it rough.”

“I do not tolerate abuse in my class,” Mrs. Murphy said. She snatched the ruler from Ziva.

Instantly Nick lunged for the ruler. His jaws yanked the ruler from the instructor’s hands. Mrs. Murphy sprang back with a shriek. Nick growled with the ruler clamped between his wicked teeth.

“Better let him keep it,” Ziva advised. “He likes his wood.”

The teenager with the pit bull two students down snickered. “Wood.”

The instructor composed herself with an effort. “You will control your animal, or leave.”

Ziva smiled sweetly. “That’s what we’re here for.” She tugged the ruler out of Nick’s mouth. He gave it up reluctantly. It was drenched in slobber. Ziva made a face at it. Nick flashed a wolfish grin.

Next up, heeling. Mrs. Murphy had her students parade their pets around the high school gym. Ziva held the leash like a show-dog lead, keeping the leash and the collar as tight as Nick could stand. With her other hand she tapped the ruler against her thigh. Nick kept an eagle eye on both the thigh and the ruler.

This wasn’t half bad, Ziva decided. She held the business end of the leash. She held the ruler. She was in charge. The thought sent a tingle through her alpha nethers. When Nick veered off course she jerked him back viciously and growled at him. Several owners and all the dogs looked around.

The teenager with the pit bull snickered loudly. “Your dog’s got a red rocket.”

Ziva glanced down. Scat on a cracker. Nick’s Big Bad Wolf had thrust itself out of its furry den. His eyes had that glint in them that said attack was imminent.

“Miss,” the instructor shrilled, “you’re going to have to remove your animal until he’s calmed down. Dogs cannot learn in a state of excitement.”

I don’t know about that, Ziva thought, Nick and I learn quite a bit when we’re excited. But she trotted the obedient Nick out of the gym.

Under the fluorescents in the hallway Nick’s arousal glistened with scarlet vengeance. Ziva stared at it and licked her lips. He was so huge. A hoarse growl built in her throat, and she tightened her grip on the ruler.

Nick waved his bushy tail. Was I a good boy or wasn’t I?

“Yes,” Ziva panted, “You’re a very good boy. Good boys get rewarded.” She tore at her skirt.

# # #

When the noises in the corridor couldn’t be ignored any longer, Mrs. Murphy marched out to give that irresponsible little snip a piece of her mind. Yanking the poor thing’s neck like that! Hitting him with a ruler! That kind of abusive behavior turned dogs vicious. She probably shouldn’t own a pet at all.

She couldn’t find the bad owner. Instead she found the big wolfish beast humping madly away at a smaller but equally feral-looking bitch, both of them loud and uncaring. The female had the ruler in her mouth.

Mrs. Murphy was an old hand at misbehaving dogs. She grabbed the nearest fire extinguisher. It took three extended, well-aimed shots to separate the beasts from their carnal activity. Covered in foam, they pelted for the exit, woofing all the way. She would have sworn they were laughing.

The rest of the class crowded in the doorway. They’d witnessed most if not all of the ghastly spectacle. The teenager knelt beside his pit bull. Both sets of eyes were huge.

“When do we get to teach our dogs that?” the kid asked hopefully.

# # #

“Look at me!” Ziva complained, shaking foam off her arms. “Not only is my hair a mess, now I’ve lost all my clothes. And I’ll bet my deposit, too. That old biddy will never let me near her or a dog again.”

Nick wiped at the foam on his chest. He was grinning like a psycho. He still wore the collar, and nothing else. “That was so hot. We should have ducked into one of the classrooms. Or found the principal’s office. I’ll bet he’s got one of those big oak desks.”

“No. We’re done. No more collars or leashes or hitting or heeling or all this other crap. Why can’t you just hump my leg like a normal canine?”

“Because you love it, you kinky bitch.” He lunged at her.

Ziva brandished the ruler. “Sit!” Nick skidded to a stop and dropped onto his rump. “Good boy. Now fetch.” Ziva shifted to wolf form and dove for the nearby woods, with Nick in close pursuit.

# # #

Almost forgot to mention: I've sold another M/M story to Siren! Temptation and Tights should be out in August. A superhero and his arch-nemesis fall in love. It's not every day you get to write a romance with a giant robot in it. Reading comic books pays off!

Saturday, May 26, 2012

I Ain't Wearing What?!

Anthony inhaled and exhaled, trying to catch his breath.  The look on Josh’s face even sent Troy into a fit of giggles.  For someone who loved roaming the sand and shore of their beach house nude, telling him it was opening day for the shape shifters’ naturalists’ campgrounds was another thing. 

Anthony’s glanced toward the picnic table closest to them.  On top of the table lay, two rescue buoys, a mega phone, and a bright orange vest.  Next to them were the keys to the two lifeguard towers the county required them to staff as part of their agreement and licensing requirements.  The best part was the oddly colored sarong at the end of the table.   Large black letters ran diagonally over the atrocious loud Hawaiian print.  

“I’m not wearing that.” Josh pointed to the sarong.  He picked up the offending piece of material and stretched it out between his hands.

“Oh come on dude,” Anthony managed to spit out before bursting into laughter.  Tory’s muffled high-pitched squeaks weren’t helping either.

“I ain’t wearing Property of Shape Shifter’s Haunts across any part of me.  I don’t care if it’s only when needed.”  Josh tossed the sarong back on the table.  “Besides, what shifter can’t swim?”

Tory wiped her eyes and sat down.  “Remember the fellow who morphed into a bear last weekend.  I don’t think he would do well out in the water if that happened.”

Anthony sat next to Tory, shaking his head.  “I understand where you’re coming from Josh.  However, remember, we’ve got shifters with human mates and vice versa.  We’ll have their families here too.  Until we fill the lifeguard positions, you are the best swimmer we’ve got.”

“What about that dolphin gal we met at the market?”  Josh knew the look both Tory and Anthony kept giving him.  He’d end up with that thing wrapped around him at some point.  He just hoped it wasn’t when some paparazzi were hanging around snapping pictures.  A dog needed to keep his dignity intact.  And his male ego inflated.  Of course, the bear shifting dude had a thong bikini on at the time he morphed, and that left nothing to the imagination.

“Netra called and said she’d be back in town in two weeks.  Until then, you gonna tell folks they can’t swim and play in the surf cuz you won’t wear this?”  Anthony grabbed the sarong and shook it.

“The only good that thing is going to be for now is to cover that wooden seat so I don’t get splinters in my nuts and ass!”  Josh pried the material out of Anthony’s hand.  He turned, ready to stomp off to the tower and man his so called perch.

“Dude, wait.  We don’t open for another twenty-four hours.  Are you wanting a head start on getting your ass full of splinters?”  Anthony’s snort stopped Josh.  Turning around, he burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”  Anthony asked, working his way to the edge of the bench.  

“I think you have a head start on me.  You plopped down on the bench and missed your towel.  Who has splinters in their balls and ass now?”  Josh spread the sarong on the bench next to Tory and grinned.


Take time to remember those who serve us and our fallen military along with the all survivors and veterans.  If you are out and about enjoying the warm weather, keep cool and hydrated.  Sunscreen is important too.  Share a good book or two with your spices and loves.


Friday, May 25, 2012

Brotherly Love...

“Mooney, Moon-man…”  Nick rapped at his brother’s door, frustrated he was being made to wait. “Come on, Moon…pull yourself out from between Marissa’s…”

 The door swung wide and Nick found himself peering at the almost alpha-like eyes of his mangy brother.  “Don’t say it, Nick…don’t fucking say it.”

“I wouldn’t have to say it if she’d let you up for air every once in a while…so whip…Ugh.”

Mooney struck as Nick knew he would—balls to the wall—that little bit of alpha in him defending his bitch even though she was human.  Nick pulled his punches—Mooney didn’t.  Every hit was well placed and came with the weight of an angry wolf.

They rolled across the grass; arms flailed, feet dug into the dirt.  Voices thick with the growls of their wolves, each sought the top spot.  Every time Mooney’s fist connected, Nick found the relief he sought from the sight which greeted him again this morning, but the end came far too quickly.

“Fucking hell, Nick.”  Mooney pushed him away, stood and spat blood into the bushes. “Apologize, now!”

Nick looked up to the porch where Marissa stood, arms crossed protectively across her front and toe tapping.  She didn’t like him, but he had no real issues with her beyond her humanness and even that was negligible.  She was just the easiest way to rile his brother up.  “Sorry Marissa, I was being an asshole.  Ah, can I speak to Moon?”

“Idiot.” She mumbled before heading back into the house.

“What’s the problem, freak?”  Nick took the hand his brother offered and stood.

“Vernon was there again this morning, Moon.”

“So?” his brother sighed.  “Maybe he has a hankering for flapjacks.”

“More like the flapjack maker…”  Nick shuddered at the thought of the old man with Mrs. Elly.

“He could do worse.”

“Not by much.”

“Wow…what’s the hate on you got for Mrs. E?”

Nick rolled his eyes at Mooney and swore.  “Lupa’s tits, Moon, she’s a herbie.”

“So…you like herbies.”

“Yeah, rare, with a pinch of seasoning and a nice sauce.   Catch them hopped on adrenaline and it’ll bring a tear to your eye.”  Nick couldn’t help but smile as Mooney wiped a hand across his lips and looked away.

“Stop pacing, Nick.  What’s this really about?  Who cares if pops is mixing his nuts with Elly’s berries, they’re both adults.”

“It’s going to give the She’s ideas, Moon.” Nick sounded like a whiney baby to his own ears, but he couldn’t stop.  Everything was just out of hand.  It was hard enough to be an alpha, but to be in love with another alpha…gah, he had to put a stop to the madness.

“Good, I like she’s with ideas…they provide such naughty good times.”


“Wait, is this about Ziva?  Oh shit, it is.  You think she’s going to get ideas.”

“Just wait Mooney, Vernon’s gonna do something crazy, like-like, marriage…”

“That would be great!  There should be more mix & matches in this town and you should be thrilled for Z to get ideas, man.  She’s the only one here who would put up with your weird kink…word on the street is last week you were seen running down Main with our very own alpha bitch over your shoulder and rulers in your hand…”

“Oh fuck!” Nick dropped to all fours, changed then tucked tail and ran.

“Hey, where you going?”

Nick heard Mooney in the distance, but couldn’t stop.  He had to get back to town—to a she who would no doubt eat his face off for missing their appointment.  To the love of his life who brought out the beta in him in the most uncomfortable of ways. 

If he was lucky, she’d simply add more punishments to what he already owed her.  If he was unlucky, shit…his poor wood would suffer.

Have a great Memorial Day Weekend!


Wednesday, May 23, 2012

To Do or Not To Do?

Ok, found my thumb drive over the weekend, so the story of Jenna and Tom continues! (And this time, I copied it onto my computer, in case I misplace my thumb drive again...)

Like before, if you' like to catch up on the story so far, click on this link. Unlike before, it will take you to my personal page, where I'm compiling it into one story. Without further ado, I present a mating dilemma for Jenna and Tom:


Day 4

      That was one highly unusual female, Tom mused as he walked back to his patrol car. On the up-side, at least he had something positive to get the images from his last call out of his mind. Just when he thought he had he figured out, she did something that chewed his profiling efforts up and spit them back in his face. First, she was a drug smuggler. But not a willing one. Then maybe she was a willing one, but wasn’t trying to profit from it? That just didn’t make sense to his cop-trained mind. She had to be doing this for profit of some kind. He just needed to figure out what her goal was.
      While his cop mind was confused, his canid mind was not the least bit conflicted. He was a stud dog at heart and she was a bitch in heat. Literally. He wanted her.
      Tom shook his head as he carefully back into traffic and turned towards the station. Yeah, she was a shifter and if his nose was right—it usually was in these things—she was also a dog. But what kind, he had no real clue. Most of the canids he knew fell into two groups, canis lupis and canis lupis familiaris. This female defied classification even in this. She was not a classic wolf, not of any sup-class he knew, anyway. But she wasn’t familiaris—one of the ‘domestic’ breeds—either. It was like she was a bit of both but at the same time, not a cross breed between them.
      Well, why not, he thought, chuckling. She was a drug mule who didn’t act like one. Why not be a non-hybrid wolf-dog, as well. One thing was for certain. The next few days were going to be interesting as he tried to figure her out, catch the ‘fat Aussie bastard’ of hers, and keep his pants safely over  his butt. He may not know what she was, but with her heading into heat, if he didn’t she’d be having some German Shepard in her.


      Get in, get the job done, get paid, get a new car, get out. That was how she’d planned it. Instead, she was shaking with need. Yeah, she knew before she headed out that she was beginning her heat cycle, but that should not have been a big deal. How was she supposed to know the first person she’d run into would be a dog shifter? Crap! And he was a cop. Double crap! She really didn’t need this right now.
      The good part about being a dingo was that very few males could make her want to back up to them when she was in heat, so coming to Shifter Town USA should not have been a problem. This was Montana, so any canid shifters should have been timber wolves, gray wolves, or coyotes. Dingos were native to Australia, for all that she’d never been there. Her kind had evolved isolated from other wolves, so usually it had to be another dingo to get an in-heat female in the mood. Unless there was a large breed familiaris-type shifter around. Dingos, both normal and lycanthropic, would cross-mate with one if the need arose.
      Well, the need was rising in her now that she’d gotten a good wiff of Officer McSexy. German Shepard, if her nose was reading his scent correctly—and it usually did. They were not a rare breed on any continent, after all. Just not what she was expecting here in Montana. Nothing to do but brazen it out, she thought as she began ‘searching’ for her mark. Play it cool, keep her butt covered and maybe drop by the drug store for some clove oil to mask her scent. As much as her traitorous body may want it, she didn’t need the complication of a litter of cop-pups at this point in her life. Not that life cared what she had planned, of course…

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Look into the face of the dragon and don't despair...

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers, and happy Sun in Gemini.

With all the trademark-silly hoopla around the name, Adele, I thought I'd do my part to thumb my nose at the big corporate entertainment media. Their efforts to immorally crush any competition is beyond the pale. In this case, the pale horse shapeshifter.

Before I disappoint anyone, no, the pale horse is not the hero of this flash scene. I just get caught up in these off-the-wall tangents. That said, I am using the name, Adele, for my heroine.

Look into the face of the dragon and don't despair...

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the un-fairest of them all?" Adele scrutinized her face in the enormous oval mirror she'd inherited from her great grandmother.

"I don't see a problem." She swivelled her head from side to side studying her features. "I like how I look. And, I like who I am."

For long moments, Adele stared at her eyes, what her mother described as gold and violet sparks. "I mean, I'd date me if I were a man. I'd ask 'me' out so fast my head would spin a thousand miles an hour."

Sighing as the same old confusion plagued her yet again, Adele moved toward her bed. Dispirited to the max, she plopped down, and ignored the streaks of light flashing across the mirror's surface.

Men, even those who were supernaturals, didn't seem interested in her, and she'd never been able to understand why. Adele had analyzed it to death over the years. But, dinosaur crap, she might as well dig a grave and toss the whole mess in. Give it a decent burial and be done with it.

Whenever she'd confided in anyone, all they would tell her was the same old BS about 'someday your prince will come'. Maybe, just maybe, she didn't want a prince. Not that she would refuse one if...

Adele clenched her eyelids so hard they hurt. She blinked her eyes just to ease the pain.

Often, for the last month or so, it felt like her heart was being shredded, as if it'd been torn from her chest and tossed into a wood chipper.

Okay, so she couldn't do the aggressive-woman thing, and go after some hunky guy, ask him out on a date. Although, she never had any problem engaging a man in a conversation, a good soul-deep conversation at times.

No, she'd never even had a problem working side-by-side with any male at a regular ole job. Of course, those pretending-to-be-normal days were over now that her magickal nature matured.

"Yeah, and here I thought my bad mojo would change once we moved to Talbot's Peak. Home of about every supernatural there is." Adele grabbed one of her pillows, and crushed it against her middle.

"And I hate the name, Adele," she spat. Angry, frustrated, she whipped her head back and forth. Her long straight hair slapped her face and shoulders.

With a sharp cry of despair, she let herself fall backward, smacking against the mattress. "It's not even my real name," she moaned.

But, she couldn't speak her real name. An enemy could use it to control her, and her magick.

"Stuck with a stupid name. Saturday night, and I'm stuck in my bedroom." Popping her head up, she glared at the mirror. "And stuck with an enchanted mirror who won't help me."

Oh yeah, she'd fantasized a million times about going to the Interspecies Pleasure Club. Disco dancing night in particular. However, without the balancing energies of a man, her powers could act up, or act out with disastrous results.

On pure impulse, Adele shot upwards hurling the pillow at the mirror. With her eyes mere slits, and her breath coming in bursts, she waited for something. Anything.

"Ouch, pretty one."

She waited a beat. "Ouch?" she demanded, her ire rising. Not that the mirror had ever spoken to her before. As in words.

More, it had been thoughts, impressions placed inside her mind. Or images appeared on the mirror's surface rather like looking into a crystal ball.

"How about? Look into the face of the dragon and don't despair," the deeply masculine voice intoned.

"Isn't that supposed to be 'look into the face of the dragon and despair'?" Adele snarked yet spoke in a serious warlock tone.

"Yes, pretty one. Merlin said that line in "Excalibur". What the humans here call a movie."

With no mercy, curiosity tugged at her causing Adele to rise from the bed. Still, she hesitated. "And just who are you? Oh, wait, I know. You're the man in the mirror. Instead of the man in the moon. Although, come to think of it, you could be the man in the moon, but you've switched to my mirror."

A hearty laugh emanated from the mirror. "Ah, yes, I was told your tongue is particularly clever and pointed."

Adele crept closer. She observed no image, and a heightened level of frustration gripped her. "You haven't answered my question, mirror man."

"I'll tell you my name if you tell me your name."

The intensity behind the ultra-deep sexy voice sizzled through her entire body lighting her up like a torch. "Adele," she quickly answered.

"Your real name."

"Your 'real' name first."

"Why don't we discuss it?" the voice gentlemanly seduced.

Adele halted in her tracks. A hypnotizing swirl of light covered the mirror's surface. Brighter and brighter, it gleamed.

She fell forward, a force pulling on her. Oh hell no! She was being sucked inside the mirror.

Disoriented, Adele crazily spiraled through some type of portal. A whirlwind seemed to seize her, and she wondered how her molecules held together.


Not in control of herself, Adele landed face down on a good-sized lap. Like a big doll, she lay across thighs that were masses of muscle.

"Finally, my pretty one, I have you." Huge hands wrapped around her waist, and lifted her upright.

In those moments, her faculties returned somewhat. "Djinn," Adele uttered, as he positioned her on his lap.

"Not only a djinn, my fire elemental, but a shapeshifter. As you are also a shape changer."

Even though, her eyes still felt as if they slowly spun in their sockets, Adele gazed into brilliant blue eyes flecked with silver. "Shapeshifter?"

"Look into the face of the dragon and don't despair."

Shaken to her core, still Adele's resilience asserted itself. "I am not telling you my real name, Djinn Dragon."

"Not even for a night of Saturday Night Fever at the Interspecies Pleasure Club?"

Adele started, but clamped her lips. She wasn't going to ask how he knew. Of course, if he possessed access to her mirror, then...

"Want to see the disco outfits I have purchased for you?" the Djinn Dragon tempted, his voice like devil-red velvet.

When she didn't answer, and shut her eyes against temptation, his hand stroked over her hair. "More beautiful than gazing at you through the looking glass," he rasped. "Your tresses are the color of a fire's heart."

Adele didn't dare open her eyes. Goddess, but he smelled like every pleasurable sin she'd ever thought of indulging in. "Where are we?"

"Where else, my sweet flame? The Pleasure Club, inside my rooms."

Her tongue finally won out over any common sense. "Take me dancing, and I might...might tell you my real name."

"Ah, the wielding of power. So it shall be, pretty one. Your wish is my command"


Have a shapeshifter kind of day!


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Monday, May 21, 2012

A Decent Proposal

Vernon MacMahon did a double-take when he saw who’d just walked in and taken a seat at the Grease ‘n’ Grill. “Elly? Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetie, but what are you doing in here?”

Elly scanned the all-meat-dishes menu, then laid it aside without even shuddering. “Thought I’d come visit. You’re in my place half the time, and I’ve never once been here. You still carry fruit, right?"

“Some,” Vern said, and tossed her a fresh apple to prove it. Elly bit into it, chewed, and gave him a thumbs up. “Coffee?” he asked.

She shook her head. Vern shrugged and poured himself a cup. He took the seat at the table opposite Miss Elly. “Are you going to tell me why you’re really here, or do I have to guess?”

“Curiosity,” she replied once she’d swallowed her bite of apple. “I saw you changed your hours. You open at eleven now. Not serving breakfast any more?”

“What’s the point? I can’t compete with your flapjacks. Even carnies eat breakfast at the Bighorn. I know when I’m licked. Lunch is my busy time anyway. Go with the flow, like they used to say back in my cubhood.”

“Maybe if you were here more often during breakfast instead of at the Bighorn, you’d do better.”

“I like to be where the action is. During breakfast, that’s your place. So now I do lunch and dinner, and I still get to eat your tasty flapjacks.” He flashed his charming grin at her. “And the pleasure of your company.”

“I’m not giving you any discounts, Vern.”

“Not even if … ” He combed back his luxurious mane of silver-gray hair with one hand.

“If what?” Elly prompted.

Vernon gave his trim moustache a quick lick for good measure. “I was going to save this for tomorrow morning, but as long as you’re here … Eleanor Quickfoot Ewing, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Elly stared at her half-eaten apple. “I think your fruit’s gone bad. I could have sworn you just proposed.”

“I did indeed. Elly, will you marry me?”

Elly set the apple aside and crossed her arms before her on the table, the better to look Vernon square in the eyes. “What’s the catch?”

“Elly, I’m hurt.”

“You’re a wolf. There’s a catch.”

“All right, you’ve got me. I’m tired of being a lone wolf. I want to settle down. That’s easier for betas. No pressure to have cubs. Your children are grown—”

“And dangerous. The boys are going to stomp you when they hear about this. Then Mary will shred the remains. You sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

“I was hoping you’d intercede on my behalf. Come on, Elly. I enjoy waking up in the morning next to a beautiful woman. Wouldn’t you like to wake up in the morning next to a gorgeous man?”

“Sure. Point him out.”

“Ha ha. I’m serious, Elly.”

“I know you are. That’s what’s got me wondering. This isn’t about that stupid election, is it?”

“I swear on my pack I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Pull the other one, Vernon. People like their leaders mated. Especially wolves. A wife would give you a leg up, pardon the pun.”

“I won’t deny I thought of that,” Vernon admitted. “A well-liked and trusted businesswoman in the community, mother of two pro football stars, daughter overcame personal challenges, a pillar of shifter society—”

“And a herbivore,” Elly finished. “You know what could happen to your political career, not to mention your life, if you married a herbivore?”

“Yes,” Vernon said. “I thought about that too. You know what makes a lone wolf lone? They don’t give a rip for the rules.” He took Elly’s hand. “So how about it, Elly? Will you marry me? You might as well say yes, because I’m going to keep coming over to the Bighorn every morning anyway. It’s not like I have anything better to do in the morning. And there’s truly nothing better than gazing upon your beautiful face, even with the flour smudges.” He brushed one such smudge from beside her nose. “What do you say?”

“You big bad wolf,” Elly said fondly. She squeezed his hand and smiled.

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Guest Author ~ Gem Sivad ~ New Release

Call Me Miz ~ New Release from Ellora's Cave!

Missouri Hess doesn’t like to be called witch, though she can heal with her touch and pull truth from a liar every time. Her gifts are a curse. She can’t choose who she helps and after a healing, she radiates pheromones and burns with sexual energy.

Thomas Hunter is a government agent and a member of Special Forces, emphasis on the word “special”. In human form, Thomas is a mouth-watering hunk of muscle wrapped in dark chocolate. As a golden-furred jaguar he prowls the woods wearing fangs and claws. He’s been sent to Bitter Creek Holler to investigate the local werewolves.

When Miz rescues the big cat from a silver-coated conibear trap, he bites her. Claiming her as his mate, the jaguar leaves his man to work out the details. Now Thomas has to convince the bewitching healer that she needs a familiar by her side.


Saturday, May 19, 2012

Thank You For Your Unsolicited Opinon

Hadley pulled his denim jacket tighter around him. The cool breeze whipped around him as though it wanted his attention. He’d felt that energy ever since he’d passed the dress shop. Whoever wanted his attention wanted it badly. He knew better than to ignore the hair standing up on the back of his neck.

Tammy was here in this town. Her perfume tantalized him since he’d entered the city limits. Usually his keen sense of smell didn’t lead him astray. This time he couldn’t make out much other than the musky smells of different animals in season. Great, spring had sprung and so had every horny on-the-make shifter as well. The few humans he could make out were unwashed and unkept. He wouldn’t bite them if he were starving.

Step, shuffle, tap tap.. . .

Hadley wished the person behind him would either pass or cease tailing him.

Another blast of colder air blew up the back of his jacket. Inhaling deeply, he caught her odor. An ice witch set on havoc. The temperature around him warmed several degrees as he sped up his pace. Chaffing his arms, he looked across the street. Rattigan’s neon sign blinked announcing he’d found what he sought. Picking up his pace without thought, Hadley rushed across the street. Let the old nuisance keep up with him now.

Gill looked up from the chalkboard he wrote the day’s specials on. He marveled at how Louie kept coming up with new ways to serve wild and raw game. How he kept the herbivores and the meat eaters from pissing each other off on full moon nights when hormones and egos shifted into overdrive amazed many of the higher-ranking councils. Louie’s savvy insight and down to earth ways won over most anyone, shifter and human alike.

The tall reddish blonde-haired male strode across the room as if he owned Rattigan’s. Gill knew better. He patted his apron pocket, feeling his snubbed nose 22 loaded and ready to slow any one foolish enough to take him on. Silver bullets did damage to shifters and humans. Thank the Gods and Goddesses bullets weren’t prejudice. Gill swallowed hard as the male perched on the stool closest to him.

“Beer cold, bottle no sissy can. Tell Louie Hadley wants to see him now.” Gill fought hard to not salute Hadley’s order. He was bigger. That didn’t mean Gill answered to him.

“Here’s your beer. Domestic is the coldest I got for now. Louie’s in the back. I’ll get him.” Gill opened bottle and slowly set it on the bar. Backing away, he glanced toward the front door. Outside he noticed an elderly woman squinting as though she tried to peer through the frosted glass. Starting round the bar, Hadley’s voice stopped him.

“Leave her out there.” Hadley took a long draw of the beer. It felt good going down his parched throat. The battle-axe wanted something. He’d chosen to ignore her. Now she thought to follow him. No doubt wanting to provide him with her unsolicited opinion. He’d learned people liked to get involved in things that weren’t their business. He smiled as he watched her parting gesture.

Gill gripped the edge of the bar. He counted in every language he knew, animal and human before he turned toward the kitchen. “That nice little old woman just gave me the bird!”

Hadley bit the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting out in laughter. Let the squirrel think what he wanted. The old bat hadn’t succeeded in gaining what she sought. She wouldn’t stop. For now, she’d lost the round.


Happy Weekend Gang!

Well, Hadley and Tammy's tale continues. Who knows what's next for these two. How does Hadley know Louie? Keep dry and cool. My HVAC and sump pump went south leaving me with a flooded basement. We're drying out and looking at what is next to regroup. Remember to share a book or two with your spice and loves!


Friday, May 18, 2012

Farrah Hair on a Were?

“Oh Lupa. Lupa, Lupa, Lupa.”

“Don’t forget, Ms. Wilk, next week Beehive is the special.”

Oh hell no!



Ziva backed away from the Dumble sisters. Shivers stretched down her spine and she wondered if she’d ever again be able to close her eyes without seeing the inside of hell. 

Right, like she’d be back. 

She already couldn’t bear to acknowledge what they had done to her in Talbot Peak’s new trendy salon.  Who knew a couple of old dragon biddies were so strong.  No matter how hard she tried to get away, they kept her in that damn chair like it was nothing—snipping and snickering. 

She’d only gone to the new shop to get the scoop for this week’s blog.  How could a place move into this town and name itself, The White Rabbit, without all the prey getting up in arms.  She figured there would be flying fluff all over the place, but nope, even the hopping humpers were enjoying themselves looking at the hookahs, cages and wild lighting.  No protests—no story.

What she did leave with was the worlds worst…”Oh Lupa.”  She didn’t even want to think about what she was bringing home, she just wanted to get there quick so she could go back to looking like herself—without Nick seeing.

“Oh baby, did you do that for me?”

“Shite.” When would her freaking luck change? “Go away, Nick.”

“You look just like my favorite poster of all time, sans the ruler.  Oh fuck, would you hold a ruler if I got you one?”

“Go away, now, Nick.”  That damn poster.  Ziva remembered it up there on his ceiling, tormenting her with its mere existence.  Every male in the neighborhood came to see that thing, making Nick so proud and her so angry.

“Can I touch it, Z?”

“No.  Go the fuck away.”  All those years she wanted him to touch her yet he’d preferred the paper woman with a ruler taped between her tits.

“Can I call you Farrah while we do it?”

“Gahhhhh.”  Her newly styled wings flew to the sides as she spun and growled at him. “There will be no name calling, touching or ruler abusing.  I’m going home to wash this monstrosity away before I have sex again.”

“No! No, no, no.”  Nick picked her up and ran through town towards home.  “Don’t be so mean, baby.  Let’s play.”

Oh hell, ‘playing’ with Nick always led to the best orgasms of her life.  She couldn’t pass up a stellar release, but she wouldn’t let him think he’d won this game either.  “Fine, we’ll play.  Rulers are a go, but you can’t call me Farrah.”

“Ahh, please?”

“If you want to call me that, you’ll have to be blindfolded…your choice.”

“Nope, Z it is…”

“And next week, you get punished.”  Instead of slowing down at the idea of a punishment, Nick sped up.  Just like she knew he would.

“What’s the penalty?”

“You’ll find out next week.”  He’d agree.  He always agreed.

Oh she couldn’t wait.  Seems she would be going back to The White Rabbit after all.  ‘Cause the best punishment she could think of would keep them busy for days.  Nick’s favorite teacher through school sported a hellishly high hive.


Oh Lupa, she was such a good bitch.
May your Farrah hair look only as good as the original!


Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Check back tomorrow - NWS

So... I can't find the USB flash drive I have the short story saved to. I'm busy tearing my home apart looking for it, so check back tomorrow. I should remember where the heck I put it by then. In the mean time, here's a nice bit of eye candy to tide you over. This, by the way, is my version of a certain mountain lion--not a cougar!--who popped up last week after saving a certain other tigress from some Yakooza thugs. Enjoy!

~ Rebecca

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Alliance, Shere Khan's Offerings

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

It's the middle of May... can you believe it?

So, this flash scene stars that omnipresent villain, Shere Khan, leader of the Tiger Yakuza in Talbot's Peak.

Dugger, the dingo man, also stars in the lead role as the hero. With a common, take-no-prisoners enemy threatening The Peak, will a temporary alliance be formed?


Alliance, Shere Khan's Offerings

As tiger, Shere Khan muscled his way through the night forest. Uncaring about who or what heard his approach, he thundered a roar without a pause in his stride. Shere Khan listened with satisfaction as the sound echoed around him.

Because of their agreed-upon mind connection, for now, he knew Dugger, the dingo shapeshifter, had been alerted. The negotiation for their tête-à-têt had been quite the mental challenge, and by the end, Shere Khan had gained a new respect for the crafty down-under canine.

Several of Shere Khan's top ninjas followed in his wake, soaring above the treetops. The inept fools who had allowed Ravi's future bride to escape had been placed in disgrace -- shipped back to Shere Khan's cousin, a minor player in the Yakuza empire.

Shere Khan curled his lips and loosed a snarl that struck terror in the hearts of his many enemies. While the use of magick assisted him in the subtle dance of gaining and keeping power, his raw strength suited his purpose and his mood now.

Ignoring the scurrying panic of rodent species and ground-nesting poultry, Shere Khan smashed through a thick web of entangled limbs. He had yet to choose a particularly severe punishment for the girl's father. His false tongue about his daughter's willingness to be a debt payment, was not to be tolerated.

Yet, on the grand chessboard of life, Nilambari's escape offered Shere Khan a bargaining chip. Of late, he had spent many a restless night pondering on the current times -- this ferocious and pivotal Dragon Year of 2012.

Changes in the balance of power were on the near horizon, a balance that no longer favored the Tiger Yakuza. Further, one vital truth had emerged during his deep investigation of the Global League.

Their plan for world dominion would mean the extermination of not only the Yakuza as a fearsome competitor, but of his tiger shapeshifter kind.

Shere Khan uttered a long rumbling growl against such an unacceptable fate.


Already shifted to his man form, Dugger lounged against the barrel-sized tree trunk. He listened to the smash-crash arrival of Shere Khan as he cleaned beneath his nails with his large throwing blade. Mother Moon shone like a spotlight overhead.

'Yeah, see 'em before my mind's eye. Several black pajamas,' he telepathed back to Symone, his beautiful, dimension-hopping sheila.

So far, it'd been painful as a roo's kick to the gut gaining her trust. But he was finally winning her over.

Earlier, he'd nearly jumped for bloody joy when she agreed to be his lookout, watching out for his ass during his summit meeting with the Yakuza leader. Given the Global League's invasion of their territory, he, Dante, and White Fang had agreed it was the best course of action for the sake of Talbot's Peak.

Even now, Dante, as werewolf, was positioned to his right, hidden by the deep shadow of a rock outcropping, a good two stories in height. On his left, White Fang observed from atop a high waterfall, ready to swoop down -- be the superhero to the rescue.

Dugger had discovered right quick that Symone's sharpshooter skills were as bang-on deadly at night as in the daylight. As she'd explained, some of what was labeled junk DNA by the looney scientists on this side of the dimensional curtain had been activated in her. Both by her desperate need to survive impossible circumstances, and later by specialized lab technicians.

Lifting his gaze, Dugger watched Shere Khan halt at the edge of the large clearing. Without a glance his way, and within moments -- hell, like a damn magical spell out of a storybook -- the Yakuza morphed from white tiger to his human form.

Yeah, just as he'd figured, the old gods ran in the tiger shifter's veins from the looks of him. Confirmed, when one of his ninjas floated a silk-thread, ornate robe around his shoulders, as if from on high.

Dugger sheathed his blade with a flip of his wrist, then straightened away from the tree trunk. "Spit and polish duds for out here in the woods, don't you think? But, I guess you are king of the crime mountain."

Shere Khan offered him a wan smile once they faced each other in the center of the clearing. His eyes, however, sparked with fire-devouring intelligence, the type Dugger respected as downright, run-for-a-cave dangerous. If he was in a runnin' mood. He wasn't.

"King of the crime mountain," Shere Khan formally intoned. "A title I find quite acceptable. My apologies, dingo, my wit does not extend to such cleverness with titles. May I address you as Dugger as you originally introduced yourself? Or perhaps, you wish to be addressed by what would be called your last name, here in the states."

"Dugger'll do. What's on your mind precisely? Thought we'd agreed on a meeting of the minds during the dark of the moon."

"So it was planned, yes. However, I suddenly find within my grasp an offering of good faith. Two offerings, perhaps."

"Is this about the brave young woman who escaped your clutches -- as they used to say in the dime pulp novels I read?"

"I know you will dismiss my words, dingo. I will state them for the record, as the politicians say in that useless body known as the congress."

"Yeah?" Dugger raised a brow. Since his hackles weren't giving him fits yet, Dugger didn't snake a hand toward his blade. "What is it?"

Shere Khan drew in a yoga-like breath, and his features became serene, reminding Dugger of a decorative pond on a fancy estate. "I was under the impression the young woman wished to come to me as a bride for my son. Her father deceived me. Or should I say his words deceived the one I sent as representative to settle a rather large debt."

For the bloody life of him, Dugger couldn't smell, hear or see a lie. Maybe, he hadn't daggered beneath the tiger's enigmatic gaze, though. "Listening," he growled.

"I will cease any effort to recover Nilambari to demonstrate my interest in our mutual alliance against the Global League."

"You said 'two offerings." Dugger's inner dingo ears pricked at the near-silent movements of Shere Khan's ninjas. At the same time, he heard Symone power up her science-fiction rifle, preparing to shoot. "You better warn your black pajama boys to stay still as a tick havin' a right good blood feast."

"Ah, yes, your sharpshooter partner. I am in awe of her efficient ability to eliminate our common enemy." Shere Khan unfolded his arms, and slightly waved his right hand. "For the sake of time and trust, and before one of my ninjas becomes too zealous in their duty to protect me, my second offering--"

Shere Khan's next words were lost amid the sudden bedlam of an attack. Super soldiers by Dugger's nose. Dante's blood-chilling growl shook the air, and Dugger heard his short running charge, his leap, then the crunch of his fangs. The ripping began.

In a tornadic spin, White Fang arrived. He fought side-by-side with the ninjas, battling twenty -- by Dugger's count -- of the bio-machine enhanced Global League squad.

He and Shere Khan had spun and stood back to back, their weapons raised. Like stuffed dummies, soldiers began falling around them, all courtesy of Symone, his sheila sharpshooter.

"That's my girl," Dugger whispered. "Won't even let me use my big bad blade."

'Not yet anyway,' he added to himself, thinking of his 'big bad blade' down under.

"You were saying?" Dugger spoke over his shoulder, once the few remaining soldiers were being mopped up.

"If your sharpshooter wishes to return to her time, to her earthly dimension, I am in possession of a proto vortex unit."

Dugger didn't question, for now, how Shere Khan knew. Bloody hell, his every particle screamed against telling Symone. But tell her he would.

He would also use every dingo trick in the book, and on Earth, to make her stay with him.


Have a shapeshifter kind of day!


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~