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 ~