Friday, November 30, 2012
Howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.
I thought I'd share some recent *breakthrough* news about the legendary Big Foot. That is, before the info is so muddied by disinformation operatives, THAT once again, confusion reigns... and before this crucial info is axed by the *nasty powers that be* with the pretense that the research and the scientific testing wasn't valid. That it's really all a hoax, folks, and by the way, we're ruining Ms. Ketchum's impeccable reputation just to be on the safe side.
Exactly why this type of info, and knowledge of Big Foot, has been suppressed for decades, I'm not certain. Other than, the Big Foot's themselves are extremely camera shy, and will run from a camera faster than a gun. Personally, I don't blame them. I'm not certain I'd want to be 'known about' either, given the current state of our society.
Of course, if the Big Foot people have decided to make themselves known... well, then, knowledge of their presence will likely become commonplace.
*First* from my Kougar Kisses blog:
The Un-Ape Bigfoot Lives... so, here's the Kougaress's position, offered just for the sake of clarity. Over the past five years or so, she's heard so much evidence from so many different experts tracking Mr. & Ms. Big Foot, and their youngsters... plus, all of the people who have seen or interacted with Big Foot... and, not to mention the Native American knowledge that seems to be conveniently ignored by many... however, yes, Big Foot does indeed exist... in fact, there is the proverbial mountain of evidence in this Big Cat's opinion.
In truth, she hoped Big Foot would remain unknown, given the proclivity of some to capture or kill. Although, there are rumor/stories that black ops and the Russians have used Big Foot genetics. Very likely this is true. According to witness testimony, there have been human-big foot matings that produced children, some of whom lived in society.
So... here's some light in the great darkness of deception that's gone on for far too long. Because you can bet your bottom dollar the secret gov people all know about Big Foot and other similar beings.
From COAST TO COAST AM ~ coasttocoastam.com/show/2012/11/25
In the first hour, former lawman turned investigative journalist, David Paulides, detailed a potential breakthrough in Bigfoot DNA research. He explained that, as a result of a five year study, his colleague has been able to "unlock a method to get to the DNA itself and how to test for it" within possible Bigfoot hair samples. As a result of this development, Paulides said, the findings indicate that Bigfoot is a "very unique homo sapien" species and that part of the DNA is "nowhere in the billions of documented DNA ever seen." He stressed that this testing has eliminated the possibility that Bigfoot are either Neanderthals or large primates and actually reveals that they are "thinking, breathing, intellectual people that are quite different" from humans.
From ~ UNKNOWN COUNTRY ~
Bigfoot is REAL Monday, November 26, 2012
A team of scientists can verify that their 5-year long DNA study CONFIRMS the existence of a the hominin hybrid species living in North America that is commonly called "Bigfoot" or "Sasquatch" (NOTE: Subscribers can still listen to this show). Their extensive DNA sequencing suggests that the legendary Sasquatch is a human relative that arose approximately 15,000 years ago as a hybrid cross of modern Homo sapiens with an unknown primate species.
The study was conducted by a team of experts in genetics, forensics, imaging and pathology, led by veterinarian Melba S. Ketchum, who says, "Our study has sequenced 20 whole mitochondrial genomes and utilized next generation sequencing to obtain 3 whole nuclear genomes from purported Sasquatch samples. The genome sequencing shows that Sasquatch mtDNA is identical to modern Homo sapiens, but Sasquatch nuDNA is a novel, unknown hominin related to Homo sapiens and other primate species. Our data indicate that the North American Sasquatch is a hybrid species, the result of males of an unknown hominin species crossing with female Homo sapiens.
"Sasquatch nuclear DNA is incredibly novel and not at all what we had expected. While it has human nuclear DNA within its genome, there are also distinctly non-human, non-archaic hominin, and non-ape sequences. We describe it as a mosaic of human and novel non-human sequence."
And here's the most incredible part-- Ketchum says, "Government at all levels must recognize them as an indigenous people and immediately protect their human and Constitutional rights against those who would see in their physical and cultural differences a 'license' to hunt, trap, or kill them."
Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side...
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Denis twitched one eye warily at the door to his mom’s sewing room, but the action in the movie pulled his attention firmly back to it. He wasn’t supposed to be up still since it was a school night. He especially wasn’t supposed to be watching movies. That was why he was watching the movie on his laptop behind a pile of quilting squares in his mom’s sewing room, of course.
“Isn’t he in his room, dear?”
His eye twitched back toward the door again. He did remember to put a dummy in his bed, didn’t he? Whatever. If he’d forgotten some detail and got caught, it was too late to worry about it now. Besides, the epic battle scene towards the end was coming up fast. This was the greatest dragon movie ever!
“Well, there’s a mannequin in his bed, but as this is a full-moon night…”
Drat! He swore mentally. He’d forgotten all about that. Which was silly, since the whole reason behind borrowing this DVD from his best friend and staying up to watch it tonight was because it was a full moon night. Still, they had to find him and he wasn’t in a logical place.
“Did you check under the bed?” “I did, but he’s not there, honey.” “Where on Earth can that boy be?!?”
Denis sat back, not bothering to look at the door anymore. If they found him, then they found him and he would deal with the resultant humiliation. Being caught watching “How To Train Your Dragon” in dragon from with a pair of paper wings on may be childish, but he figured he was only going to be young once!
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Tuesday, Almost Full Moon, yowls and howls, shapeshifter lovers.
Some good news on the author front. I'm about to *finally* finish my WIP ~ Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys ~ Hopefully that will happen in the next couple of days. Then, it will be all about editing and revision. That could take some time since my word count is around 90,000.
So, today's flash scene follows Pat's scene from yesterday. I, and my muse, couldn't pass up the challenge of giving Ravi some very well deserved punishment.
Further note: The hero, Zoronado, and his heroine, Sharla, star in these two previous flash scenes.
Zoronado, Black Stallion Shapeshifter & Plastic rapier in hand, she approached the door.
The Black Stallion Versus the Yakuza Tiger
Sharla gripped the black stallion with her thighs as he leaped into a gallop, a rocking stride that felt all too delicious. While she appreciated his gentle manner, especially since she rode bareback, Sharla craved Zoronado's racing speed beneath her.
So far, on their few outings, the stallion shapeshifter had merely tested her ability as a rider, and schooled her on how to handle him. Sharla wanted more. Wildly, fiercely desired so much more.
Leaning forward, she shouted against the wind, "You can do better than this."
Zoronado's ear flicked back, and he gathered himself, increasing the length and swiftness of his stride. The scenic forest trail they enjoyed was so well traveled, it had been cleared of snow.
'Your chiding tone, my beloved, is heard.'
Sharla laughed happily at Zoronado's oh-so gallant manner with her. It had taken time to understand this was his natural way of being. That his seductive role as her Zorro lover at the Pleasure Club -- while a role -- had not been out of character for him.
With the icy wind stinging her cheeks, Sharla leaned over his neck so her face was shielded. Zoronado's silky thick mane slapped her face instead, and Sharla soared with the sensation of being astride him.
The furious scream of a horse in pain caused Sharla to pull back on the reins before she thought. Zoronado had already abruptly slowed, and now halted in his tracks.
Sharla stared in disbelief at the sight before her. In the distance, a crazed horse and rider barreled toward them. Zoronado danced to the side of the trail in an obvious move to protect her.
As they pounded closer, Sharla could see the lathered horse also foamed at the mouth. She had no trouble seeing his eyes, enormous with fright and rage.
"Omygawd." Everything inside her wanted to help, wanted to stop the cruelty she witnessed. But how?
'Dismount, my Sharla. I will attend to this barbarian.'
Before Zoronado finished speaking, Sharla launched off his back. Automatically, she moved backward, and pressed against the tall pine tree closest to her.
After shaking his bridle off, Zoronado charged forward with amazing power, his hindquarters driving him. With her breath lodged in her throat, Sharla watched the scene unfold, and reflexively gripped the hilt of his sword.
Caught between worrying and silently cheering Zoronado on, she waded through the snow, following after him. Gaining the trail, Sharla grabbed breaths, and watched her magnificent black stallion gallop straight toward the horse and rider as if they played a game of 'chicken'.
About to scream, Sharla slammed her mouth shut. The freaked-out horse jumped to the side, and in the same instant, Zoronado snaked his neck. Whoever the rider was, his whip viciously lashed out at her black stallion's head.
"No!" Sharla shouted furiously, as she ran.
But she could have saved her breath. Zoronado clamped down on the man's upper arm, and lifted him straight up before flinging him off his horse, and into a deep bank of snow.
Wheeling around, her black stallion lowered his head. With his ears flattened and his teeth bared, he moved to attack.
Seeing the man suddenly morph into a deadly tiger, Sharla halted. In shock, she let the scream surging up her throat have its way. The shrillness echoed through the wintry air.
With split-second speed, wicked claws sliced at Zoronado, missing his jugular vein by mere inches. He whirled, his back hooves flying. Thud...thud...thud! Against the tiger's jaw. Against the beast's shoulder blade. Then a direct hit on his ribcage.
Rolling, the tiger leaped to his feet, pure snarling fury. The striped beast charged, all rippling muscle and terrible power. On instinct, Sharla drew the blade out of its scabbard, even as she watched the tiger launch for Zoronado's back, its jaws open, ready to snap shut.
Before her mind's eyes, Sharla saw the killing grip of his fangs. "No," burst out of her, and became mist.
Twisting and bucking, Zoronado positioned himself so the enormous beast landed harmlessly against his side. The impact threw the tiger a few feet away.
In the following minutes of horror, Sharla stood helplessly, watching the savage fight take place. With the whirling snow spray, and the incredible speed of the battle, she couldn't tell who was winning.
Her heart dropped to her stomach, and she leaned on the sword as if it was a crutch. Another moment later, everything stopped. The striped beast lay on the trail, dead to the world, but not dead -- his breath steamed from his nostrils.
With his sides heaving, Zoronado walked toward her. The horse, a gray -- now that she could see his color instead of lather -- followed behind him.
The sight of blood streaking his coat had Sharla running to meet her brave and daring black stallion. "Oh gawd, you're not hurt seriously, are you? Please...please, tell me you're not. That you're okay."
'Mere flesh wounds.'
Despite the jaunty tone of his mind-speak, Sharla heard Zoronado's exhaustion. She circled him, inspecting his hide closely.
"Flesh wounds?" she demanded, then gently smoothed her hands over a long jagged tear. Her unreliable healing ability kicked in, and his hide seamed together.
"Come on." Sharla took hold of his mane. "Let's get both of you home and taken care of."
'I must insist that you mount me, most beloved. It is too far for you to walk.'
"Insist all you want, I'm walking." Sharla glanced over her shoulder to make certain the gray still followed them. Looking haggard, but determined the horse kept pace with them.
Recalling Zoronado's words, she bent toward his ear, whispering, "If you insist, I will mount you...later."
Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side...
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Monday, November 26, 2012
The blog I was planning to write all weekend didn’t want to get written, so here’s another one. I just finished a book and I’m floundering around trying to pick out the next one. One of the contenders is Rick and Nilambari’s story. This scene takes place shortly after Bari unexpectedly ducks out on her meeting with her promised husband, Ravi.
# # #
Ravi stalked the halls of his father’s mansion in a white-hot fury. Only minutes before he’d stood at the window to watch the delivery of his intended bride. A comely young woman, just out of her teens, older than he normally preferred. Still, he’d been assured she was virgin, and he’d been looking forward to schooling her in how to properly serve her new lord and master.
And what had she done? The stupid bint had run away. Those incompetent excuses for an escort hadn’t even gotten her to the door. She’d shifted to her tiger form and run away. From him.
Heads would be ripped from necks for this. Beginning with hers, when he caught her.
A figure loomed out at him from an office as he passed. Ravi whirled with a snarl that would have made anyone else recoil in well-deserved fear for their lives. Anyone, that is, other than his older brother Tasman.
“What’s all the ruckus outside?” Tasman asked. “Has your bride arrived? Congratulations.”
Ravi swallowed the murderous growl that threatened to burst from his throat. Here stood the ultimate cause of all his woes. He could fight, he could demonstrate his ruthlessness, he could prove his worth as an heir to Shere Khan’s empire over and over again, yet he would never overcome the insurmountable obstacle of his birth order. Second son. Second born. Always and forever second to Tasman.
He’d often thought of removing his brother, yet even that would never raise him in the estimation of their sire. Your brother would never have made that decision. Tasman would have done things differently.
Ravi twisted his lips into something that almost looked like a smile. “Thank you. Yes, she’s just arrived. I’m going down to meet her now.”
“Excellent. A wife will be good for you, brother. Work off all that excess energy, eh?” Tasman clapped his brother on the shoulder and returned to his office.
Ravi’s snarl reappeared the instant the door clicked shut. He pounded down the stairs.
The remnants of his vanished bride’s escort milled about in the foyer. Though tigers all, they cowered before his wrath like dogs. As well they should, for their carelessness.
“Convince me,” he said, with teeth fully bared, “why I should not slaughter you all right now, right here.”
“She surprised us,” a guard quavered. “We weren’t expecting it. She’d been perfectly well-behaved the whole trip.”
“Surprised you,” Ravi ripped out. “A woman surprised you. You, the flower of my father’s Yakuza. Vishnu save the house of Khan from the likes of you.”
“We’ll get her back,” the guard promised. “She doesn’t know the woods. Two of our finest pursue her even now.”
“Picture my relief. I want her back within the hour. You will have her brought to me, unharmed.” He’d dole out her punishment personally once he had her in his grasp. Teaching a new wife her proper place was the responsibility of her husband. “Well? Are you just going to sit around while others clean up your mess?”
“No, lord,” the guard said. He bellowed to his fellows. As one, they shed their clothes. Within minutes a troupe of five tigers sped into the forest to join the search for his runaway bride.
Ravi left the clothing where it lay. Servants would collect it, after Ravi exited the room.
Nothing now to do but wait. His entire life, it seemed, was one unending wait for a reward that would never arrive. A race in which he was doomed from birth to finish in second place. When he entered Heaven, no doubt Tasman would have gotten there ahead of him.
A hunt would not assuage his rage. He needed to dominate something. He headed for the stables.
The dozen horses retreated to the backs of their stalls when they scented Ravi. Brainless, unpredictable, grass-eating beasts. But occasionally useful, in their own stupid way. Much like a woman. He selected a large gray stallion and thrust himself into its stall.
The horse met him with bared teeth and flying hooves. This same animal fawned all over his younger brother Sanjay and followed him around like a puppy. That was unnatural. Tigers and horses weren’t intended by nature to get along. It often led Ravi to speculate on Sanjay’s dubious ancestry.
Clearly the horse wasn’t about to submit to any bits or saddling. That suited Ravi and his frustration fine. He was quite in the mood for a battle. No stupid brute would get the best of him. Any tiger who couldn’t win a fight with an herbivore deserved the subsequent trampling.
He dodged a vicious kick and caught a handful of the awful creature’s mane. The horse made a near-successful attempt at a bite. Ravi bit it back, on the neck, hard. The stallion squealed in pain. Ravi took advantage and flung himself onto the horse’s back. It bucked at once, even in the confines of the stall. Ravi dug in and hung on until the stallion tired itself out. It quivered beneath him sullenly, unbeaten but resigned.
Good enough. When it got its breath back it would fight him again, and he would best it again. Perhaps today he would finally kill it and eat it. Better still, he could present its bloody slain corpse to his bride as the wedding feast. But first, both must learn once and for all who was master here.
He slammed his heels into the horse’s sides. The startled beast squealed again and bolted out of the stall. Ravi steered it into the forest with savage jerks on its mane. Perhaps he could ride it hard enough to make it break a leg. It was worth a try. Horse and rider, both boiling over with violence, plunged into the trees.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Jackson looked at the footprints left in the sand hours later. The golden light of dawn illuminated the path many had trod the night before. Remo and his wife decided to renew their wedding vows as part of their twenty-fifth anniversary. Sandy and her hubby followed suite and renewed theirs as well. As did many of Remoor Beach’s older couples.
As the line formed at the pier with each couple taking their turn walking down the makeshift aisle, Jackson found himself next to Abebi. They kept moving forward until they found themselves at the head of the line. Jackson tried to edge his way out of the next couple’s path. Instead, he found himself bordered by several of the pack’s males. Two eyed him as though he’d done something wrong. He couldn't see Abebi. He heard her voice from time to time. Her sharp no and I’ll decide when pulled at his attempts to stay calm. The crowd of males surrounding him parted. Remo stepped in and the crowd enclosed them both.
Remo cleared his throat. “Son, no one is pushing you to jump the broom or stroll down the pier. You’ve been here six months now. Either you are courting our Miss Abebi or you are pissing in your own hat trying to convince yourself you want something you don’t. Which is it?”
Jackson pushed his Stetson back and squinted. Back in the Peak, no one questioned a couple about their relationship or intentions. Of course back in the Peak, a lot happened below the radar. Until Ziva found out and published her gossip column. “If it’s my business, why you butting in Remo?”
“”Cuz son the good of the pack is at stake. We got pups coming. It’s time to declare your intentions.” Remo stepped closer, his teeth bared.
“I’m not having a pack forced wedding,” Abebi cried out. She pushed and shoved her way through the throng of women surrounding her. “Jackson and I will decide what we want. Not what the pack wants.”
Elder Muson held up his hand as he yelled out. “Stop this nonsense.” He tossed backed his head and howled. A loud pitiful mournful howl echoed off the nearby buildings. Many clapped their hands over their ears to keep from going deaf.
The swarm parted. Elder Munson walked forward. “Pack law is founded on choice. Choice is key to our co-existence with our human counter parts. It’s also one of the reasons we get along with each other as well as we do. Sharing and caring makes sense. If Jackson and Abebi haven’t made their choice or choices yet, not one of us has the right to decide for them.”
Elder Munson folded his arms across his chest and scanned the crowd. “I’ll snap a piece out of anyone’s wolfish arse that tries to force these youngsters to do otherwise.”
Remo chuckled, walked over to Munson, and slapped him on the back. “Rev, you give a good sermon with or without the pulpit.”
Munson nodded and slid his arm around Remo’s shoulders. “Right, but are any of you listening?”
A chorus of yeses sounded. Two women moved up next to Abebi. “Our mutual spice want to be sure sharing is a free choice. Jackson, are you willing to share Abebi?”
Jackson looked at the faces intently watching him. Hell, was Abebi willing to share him? It took two to make that decision. They had barely talked since they agreed to court and discussed what they wanted as a foundation for that. Jackson took Abebi’s hand and dropped to one knee. “Abebi, will you share me?”
Abebi inhaled, cleared her throat, and spoke. “Well, I. . .”
Happy Weekend Gang!
Wow talk about cliff hanger! What is Abebi's response? Her mind is made up? Blast my muse is refusing to let me in on what is coming next. I'm sure it will be right for Abebi.
Meanwhile I'm busy finishing up edits on Hot for Torrey. As soon as I have a release date and excerpts to share, I''ll post them. Until then, share a good book or two with your spice and loves. Keep warm and don't over spend on holiday gifts.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Cami sipped from the cup in one hand, inwardly praising the Java Huts private stash of tea leaves and circled today’s purchase with the other. She couldn’t believe yesterday was Thanksgiving and today, Black Friday.
“Ahhhh, thank Lupa,” Ziva moaned, gulping down the coffee waiting for her before even getting her ass in the chair. “Now why the hell do you have me here so early, Cami?”
“Please, I know you’ve been up for at least an hour…it is Black Friday.”
“Of course I have…gifts to get, deals to find and this year we have the thrill of bartering here in The Peak, along with the new Talbies.”
Cami chuckled at the whipped cream mustache her sister sported and handed her a napkin. “That’s just why I asked you here, Ziva.” She adjusted the paper so the boldly circled item could be seen on the other side of the table. “Who has that?” She asked, pointing out the coveted gift.
“I couldn’t tell ya.”
“Come on, Z. You owe me.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Yesterday?” Cami crossed her arms and stared down her sister. “I let you catch the turkey.”
“The scat you did. I caught that fair and square…you were too slow and clumsy.”
“Nope, I was waiting for you and Nick to come around the corner and I intentionally took him out. You’re welcome. Now pay up…who has that?”
Cami watched Ziva run yesterday’s turkey hunt over in her head to make sure she was the rightful winner.
She also recognized the exact moment her sister remembered seeing Cami ahead of her.
“…Damn. Next year I’m kicking your mangy, kennel cough ass.”
The flush of red spread over her face just as it did whenever anyone in her circle brought up her foolish illness. “That has gone away, thank you…now give me the information I want.”
“I really can’t, Cami. All those items came in anonymously via the gazettes website. They’ll all be at the high school gym waiting to be bartered for or purchased.”
“Why do you want that item anyway?” Her sister leaned in close, sure to smell the hint of unease Cami knew she was putting off.
“No specific reason just that it would be cool.” Cami gathered up her paper and purse, preparing to head over to the school. She didn’t want Ziva to inspect her too closely or she’d be forced to spill her guts on her real needs.
“Oh no you don’t…”
“Leave it alone, Z.”
“No way…there’s a reason you want that,” Ziva growled, pointing at the object of Camis’ fascination. “And I want to know what it is.”
“It’s nothing…I mean, who wouldn’t want one.” Cami spun on her heel and raced to the door. Ziva stayed in her seat drinking coffee with a smirk on her face. Hopefully, she’d find the holder of her needs before her sister could catch up. She didn’t need any more scat from the alpha bitch of their family.
Leo had been so sure his product would be quite the sought after piece that he’d be beating back the throng with his single-tail whip. Little did he know? There was not a single person at or around his booth. Neither barter nor Talby crossed his palm.
Who wouldn’t want an invisible cloak?
Apparently, most, if not all, of the Talbot’s Peak residents if the crickets echo was any indication. At least he’d brought along his canine anatomy book to study up on all of the sensitive spots on a wolf. Once he and Cami got down to playing, he would be ready to provide the exquisite pleasure/pain she required.
“Ohmygawd.” The breathless pant tingled down his spine and dug into the lower vertebrae, so close to his balls. “You haven’t sold it yet, have you…the, the cloak, do you still have it?”
Why would his love, his sweet submissive feel she needed to be invisible? And what exactly would she barter away to get it?
“You’re in luck, Cami Ann,” he said, dropping the book into his lap and looking into her shocked face. “But what will you trade me for it?”
Wouldn’t you freaking know it. The person she needed to stay away from was the owner of the tool she wanted to use to be successful.
“I-I have…” Cami glanced down at herself, cataloging her jewelry and the cash/Talbies in her purse. “I have money, Talbies.”
Leo stopped her before she could reach inside her clutch. “I have no need of currency, old or new.”
“Ah, okay, how about jewelry—gold, for your wife?”
“Not married, Cami Ann.”
“Coffee? Every morning for say a year?”
“No, I was thinking more along the lines of your time. Say two hours a day for a month?”
“Yep, and on Sunday’s I’ll give you a treat. What do you say, do we have a deal?”
She should really ask for clarification, but she was too chicken. She could agree, take the cloak and hide from him for… what, ever? No that was a poor way to conduct business. She was better than that. She would agree to his terms and see what he had in store for her tomorrow. If she couldn’t do whatever it was, she would return the cloak and leave. “Yes, deal.”
“Good. Meet me at the clinic tomorrow afternoon…after closing. The cloak will be waiting for you there… and so will I.”
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
No flash fiction today. I'm driving down to my Mom's house after work today and I spent all last night packing getting everything ready, and making sure my furballs wouldn't grive my dad up the wall while I am away. (They will anyway, but I made sure there were lots of treats for him to give them.) In honor of furballs and the joy they bring, I'm posting furball pictures. Have a great holiday!
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Tuesday gratitude yowls and howls, shapeshifter lovers.
No, this is not a Thanksgiving themed flash scene. No wild turkey shapeshifters outwitting the hunters stalking them. Although, that would have been fun to write.
My Muse was particularly contrary all day, so I ended up continuing the flash scene from last week titled, Songstress at the Midnight Stardust Supperclub.
However, today's flash scene is from the hero's point of view.
"Consider your dance card filled, Miss Katz."
Barely aware of the grandeur surrounding him, Zayne stood on the fringes of the dance floor. He focused on Selene as if he pointed the flaming lightsword of his kind.
Zayne took a swallow of the old-fashioned punch, then cradled the crystal glassware in both hands, listening to her warble a song from that time. The lilac gown gracing her beauty, wasn't true to the period, but close enough.
Not that Zayne gave a real damn. Not at all. However, his expertise was not to be thwarted.
Thirstily, he drank in her intriguing features, an exotic combination of feline angles and angelic symmetry. Her svelte loveliness as she moved while singing, kept him hot and bothered -- and remembering how they'd both endured him taking her measurements so he could outfit her properly.
To avoid torment, Zayne didn't let his gaze linger on the moon-round swells of her breasts above the tight bodice. Or on her hair. The golden tawny color held glints of flame, and he ached to thrust his fingers through the piled wealth of ringlets
In the spirit of the Cavalry Military Ball, Zayne had regaled himself in a replica of an officer's uniform, worn during the 1870s. With great care, he'd crafted the boots, and the other leather accoutrements, including the scabbard for his mock blade.
Impatiently, he waited for the right moment to pounce on the woman who filled his nights with unsatisfied lust. His kind required little sleep. Yet, when the arms of Morpheus finally did capture him, the feisty singer who was also a mountain woman, haunted his dreams. Relentlessly.
As a visionary dreamer, Zayne had observed Selene in every expression of herself as a woman, and as a feline shapeshifter. He'd known before arriving at the Midnight Stardust Supperclub for this special-theme night, that she would glisten as a performer, and own a type of charisma that invited the undivided attention of the crowd.
That was his primary gift as a descendant of the god-priests -- seeing the multi-facets of sentient beings, and assisting them to understand their full potential -- as the new-agers labeled it.
His ability to craft with leather, and all manner of hides and furs, came from his ancient heritage as well. The passion lived in his blood, and brought him great enjoyment.
Hearing Selene announce that the musicians would continue playing without her, and perform music for the dance styles of the time, Zayne quickly strode toward the refreshment table, depositing his punch glass.
Without pause, he speared himself toward her, using his energy to move those before him gently aside. Even knowing all the facets of her being, Zayne possessed no idea how Selene would react, once she learned his true nature.
That hardly slowed his stride. Nor did it matter to him. Few women, of any race or kind, had so fiercely aroused his desire.
Closing in on her, Zayne watched Selene instinctively still and clutch the satin skirts of her gown. Before she could gather her wits, and escape his wooing attack, he blocked her path.
"Consider your dance card filled, Miss Katz." Zayne smoothed his hand over her arm, and took command of her.
"Your manner is far too bold, sir," she haughtily asserted, once she regained her speech.
"Yes, Miss Katz," Zayne drawled in a gentleman's tone, as he brought her to his side. "And I plan to be even bolder with you."
She huffed a mew of protest, yet offered no resistance as he escorted her onto the dance floor. Amused, Zayne smiled to himself as he correctly positioned her for their dance.
Their hands joined, and he claimed her waist. "Shall we dance, Miss Katz?" he formally intoned, then raised his brow in a cavalier manner.
"Your incorrigible manner has not gone unnoticed, sir." The bite of her tone raced his blood, hot as midday sun in the southwestern desert, the original home of his ancestors.
Certainly, he would be celebrating the rustic holiday known as Thanksgiving with a higher level of gratitude this year.
Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Monday, November 19, 2012
And what the eff was all that scat in his office?
“Ignore the papers,” Paul said in response to the sight of the roomy room’s tornadoesque appearance. “Ex-Mayor Link blew through here pretty extensively before we were able to stop him. We confiscated most of it back. Plus I’m the one who backed up all the computer files. I think you’ll find everything in order.”
Gil looked around. “What’s with all the baskets?”
Paul shrugged. “Outpourings of good will from an adoring public?”
“My ass,” Gil growled. Along with scattered papers and open file drawers, the room was packed with wicker baskets, bowls and boxes, all overflowing with nuts. Salted, unsalted, dry roasted, honey roasted, in the shell, out of the shell, double-dipped in chocolate. Walnuts dominated, followed by peanuts and almonds and cashews and moving down from there to the more exotic varieties.
Gil sidled into the room. “Doesn’t this count as bribery?” he said. “Undue influence or something?”
“It would if any of the doners had identified themselves. Pretty much all the baskets came without cards. The people just like you. Accept it, Mr. Mayor.”
“It smells like bananas in here.”
“Your predecessor had different tastes. We’ll have a cleaning crew go over the place.” In the meantime, Paul threw open a window to admit a crisp November breeze.
Gil shivered, not from the cold. This was all happening too fast.
He sat behind the huge mahogany desk. It was bigger than his kitchen table. The matching chair swallowed him up. It would have fit Louie so much better. He’d had the sense to keep his name off that stupid poll at Rattigan’s. Briefly, Gil wondered what would have happened if the town really had elected Justin Bieber.
“What am I supposed to do?” he said to the desk.
“Run Talbot’s Peak,” Paul answered. “It’s an easy job. Leave people alone and don’t raise taxes. Wave at parades. Oh, and you’re now in charge of the police department. You can outlaw squirrel-chasing by the local canines. Hey, does you being mayor mean they can finally stop showing Planet of the Apes over at the Astoria?”
Gil opened a desk drawer and pulled out a shriveled, spotted banana peel. He dumped it into the waste basket beside the desk and wiped his fingertips on his pants.
“What do you do around here?” he asked Paul suddenly. Suspiciously.
“I keep the wheels greased for you so everything runs smoothly.”
“I’ll just bet. You’re a rat shifter, aren’t you?”
Paul looked cagey. “I prefer to keep those matters private.”
“I’ll bet you keep a lot of stuff private. I know you hang around with that Lamar. So you’re good at keeping secrets. Like everybody doesn’t know already.”
“The perils of living in a community where half the population are hunters and the other half likes to root around.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I like to climb trees, and you can see quite a bit from up there. Okay. First order of business, pack up all these nuts.”
“And do what with them?”
“Donate ’em. Elly’s diner, the bakery, the candy shop. Rattigan’s gets first choice. All peanuts go to the bars. Anything left over—do we have a food bank?”
“The church handles that. Pastor Tim’s in charge. We provided a ton of banana bread under Mr. Link.”
“He’s Jim Gordon’s brother, isn’t he? Yeah, they’re twins. I’ll have to have a chat with Officer Gordon. I hear he’s got connections. Wayne connections.” Paul didn’t say anything. “That reminds me. It probably wouldn’t hurt to set up a meet with Dante Hancock.”
“I see Mr. Mayor is well-versed on current events.”
“Hey, I hang out with a rat. You pick up on stuff. That reminds me.” Gil leaned across the desk and pointed a stiff finger at Paul. “Don’t ever schedule a meeting or appearance for me during a full moon. This town’s chock full of predators. I don’t need to be perched on a podium with a gavel bigger than I am and a whole damn wolf pack licking their chops at me.”
“Consider those three days off your calendar, sir.”
“Okay.” Gil leaned back. The chair felt more comfortable the longer he sat in it. A guy could get used to this. Maybe even do some good.
“One other thing,” he said. “I need air freshener in here. Pine-scented.”
“Right away, Mr. Mayor.”
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Angel looked out the window. Pristine white snow fell in large flakes. Outside several landed on the windowsill, melted and as water trickled down the side of the pane until they disappeared from sight.
Two months had come and gone, and still no word from Randall. His family reached out to her covertly through short phone calls and anonymous emails. All they wanted to know she couldn’t answer. No one knew where he was. His eldest brother demanded responses threatening to expose her whereabouts if she didn’t answer him.
Angel sighed, wiped her eyes, and hunched closer to the window. Her cell phone lay next to her, battery dead, and her minutes run out. She knew what Tongson said was true. Her safety and the lives of the kits she carried hinged on her remaining silent and hidden. At least with the snow she could run and find tranquility for a moment in forgetfulness as she exercised.
Out by the large grove of trees marking the border of the property a flash of black appeared. Angel blinked and squinted. Had her mind bent in half and began playing tricks on her? The black splash appeared again. Appeared and weaved itself back into the dark trunks of the trees.
A mournful howl split the air and three others followed. Three dark inky dots appeared closer to the edge of the snowline separating the grove from the shoveled path leading to the house. Angel gasped as the dots began racing toward the path. One then another became clearer. Three large black wolves came into view.
One leaped and spun in circles. First, to the left. Then to the right. Another copied his moves and added his own as if trying to get the other to follow suite. The third hung back, sitting on his haunches watching the others. The first two laid their ears back and bared their teeth. The third trotted up behind the others. Crouched, and waited until the two raised their asses up, tails raised, as they lowered their fronts snapping and snarling between yips.
Two loud barks echoed off the hills. Howl after howl mixed with the echoes. The largest of the three black wolves sat on his haunches, his tongue lolling out as if he laughed at the other two caught off guard by his cold nose goose their exposed asses more than once. The other two circled him. He snarled and trotted toward the house.
Laughter sounded behind Angel. She turned. Tongson and Octavia stood arms around each other smiling and pointing toward the trio approaching. “Looks like Anthony’s relatives arrived.”
Angel blinked and scratched her head. “This is the triad made up of a husky and two wolves.”
“Not them. Relatives of theirs that are joining us for Thanksgiving and Solstice. Anthony, Tory, and Josh are arriving later. They’re bringing humans with them. Also the baby.” Tongson sat next to Angel. “Why the puzzled look?”
“There are species mixing that shouldn’t. At least that is what Sheer Khan says.” Angel wrapped her arms tight around herself.
Octavia slipped her arm around Angel’s taunt shoulders. “Khan wishes to rule a world where his orders and whims are supreme. He seeks to let terror reign in his stead and allow control to be his to grab.”
Tongson nodded. “Here we live by our own rules. We mix, pleasure and do as our agreements and experiences teach us. There are good and bad in everything the world produces. Knowing which is which is which is key to understanding what makes and keeps the peace and balance.”
Octavia smiled. “There is much to be thankful for and gratitude to give as well as share. Come let’s find out who joins us for the celebration.”
Happy Weekend Gang!
I hope you like this week's post as we learn more about Angel and her love. As well as more on the world outside of Talbot's Peak. Poor Gil now as mayor. That is going to be a new adventure in squirrelish antics.
I'm off to work on edits for my new release due out in January. I'll post more and a tidbit when I've got an excerpt or two to share. Remember to take time out to enjoy the fall colors and share a good book with your spice and loves. I know I will!
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
And despite the family owning four businesses, James and his twin were going to be... shoveling walks. For Talbies, too, not US currency. James pondered again the irony of wolf genetics, that two absolutely polar-opposite individuals could have come from the same litter of pups. Not that they were a litter, exactly. There were only the two of them, after all. But Terry was a McMahon through and through. Big, strong, athletic, charming… basically Thor to James’ Loki. Thor picked fights while Loki warned him off and used his head.
Wait, James thought with a slight smile. Just wait! This shoveling thing could be a good thing. If he was Loki and Terry was Thor… And Loki was always tricking Thor into helping him punk others…
James grinned at his grandfather. “Yeah, Granddad, we’d love to lend a hand with the snow removal in exchange for a little spending money.” He tried—but not too hard—to look innocent when his grandfather shot him a hard, disbelieving look. No point trying to lie to a wily old wolf like Granddad; wolves could smell dishonesty a mile away and he, Loki—er, James—was not known for being a squeaky clean choirboy. Terry noticed Granddad’s face, looked at James and the grinned as well.
“Yep,” Terry said with twinkling eyes, knowing full-well the brains of the pair had just come up with a fantastic idea for getting into trouble. James was totally Emo to his surfer dude, but Terry loved action in all forms. When his smaller, dark-haired twin brother got that look on his face, it meant there was soon to be all kinds of mischief, trouble—and fun!—coming down the pipe line in no time at all.
Vern stood back and shook his head in disbelief. He should have known those two were up to something. James—or Loki, as he’d taken to calling himself—was so full of piss and vinegar when he wanted to be at times. And Terry, who had started calling himself Thor after James pointed out how they were like the mythical brothers, was always perfectly willing to do whatever his little brother said they should do because it always ended in mischief. But this? Vern really wasn’t sure what to make of this…