Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Tigress Shapeshifter ~ Scissors instead of your razor claws...

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers...

New moon greetings as well. Apologies for the late posting. A long, way too busy day on Monday.

Okay then, this is the second installment starring my tigress heroine, Kytaira, and her black tiger man, Zurroc.

Once again... Warning: violence ahead.


Tigress Shapeshifter ~ Scissors instead of your razor claws...

Continued from last week ~

The four ninjas who have avoided my weaponized scissors surround me. Like panthers, they circle, stalking...


...seeking a point of attack. For a split second, I pretend to be frozen in fear. When my four enemies mentally take a step back, I flip on my side.

Flash-quick, I seize the scissors pressed against my outer calf inside my boot. In the same motion, I flick my wrist sideways. Those silver beauties whirl like helicopter blades. 

The ninjas counter by combining their force. Blue lightning streams from their fingertips.

Sparks bounce off the gleaming surface of the spinning scissors. But, it's too late for number twelve ninja.

The point spears through the hollow of his throat like a thrown blade, severing his spinal cord. He crumples.

The three ninjas close in, and I grab the scissors holstered between my shoulder blades. All the while, sparks crackle around me like a barrage of firecrackers.

My protective field holds, and I hurl at the ninja crouching, leaping for the kill. Bull's-eye, the scissors hit the target. Gruesomely, number ten ninja staggers back, blood leaking from his eye socket.

For my next trick, I slither on the floor snake like -- escaping the swift-rolling attack of the two remaining ninjas. Twisting upward, I land on my feet, facing their charge.

My inner tigress roars as I rip the scissors out of the holster at the base of my spine.  Number eleven ninja launches. He flies toward me, his foot extended.

Obviously, he wants to separate my head from the rest of me. My double bladed weapon flies faster. Let's say castration is the least of his worries.

Suspended in air, the last ninja whirls like a dervish, so rapidly he looks like a mini tornado. I dodge, leap high landing on the loft floor.

He is right behind me, almost riding my butt. I smell his acrid determination to end my existence.

The heel of his hand grazes the center of my back only. I've whipped away from the blow that would have broken my back in two, paralyzed me.

I grip both pairs of scissors taped to the support column. Weapons in hand, I whirl positioning myself behind the column as he spins, then aims a kick that would have made my head a splattered melon.

His attack denied, he stops in midair, and falls yielding to gravity. I don't hear him land.

I do see the glint of the blade as I one-eye him from behind the column. Unusual, but he's desperate to finish me off.

The hum of his blood is faint, disguised by his smoke body. Yet, my tigress senses tell me exactly how my prey is positioned. Starkly, I feel his muscles bunch and ripple beneath his skin.

The ninja moves, quicker than a striking cobra. His blade softly whistles through the air aiming for my temple.

I'm faster. Moving mere inches, I fling my arms around the column. With a death grip on the handles, I plunge the scissor blades beneath his ribcage, skewering his vital organs.

No, I don't bother watching his death. It's enough to smell his life seep away, float from this mortal realm.

Instead, as callous as it may seem to humans, I swiftly retrieve my collection of barber scissors. Once I've placed them inside the chest, which is a cleansing unit from my homeworld, I say a silent goodbye to the warehouse.

With the next onslaught of enemies about to arrive, I race outside. Zurroc throws open the passenger door, and I leap inside our truck. He guns the engine, and we rumble-roar down the back street as the sun peeks above NYC's skyscrapers.

"Good timing... as always, my black tiger."

"You don't mind that I beam-dispatched two alphabet agency thugs. They were about to interrupt your scissor-throwing party."

I hear the self-satisfied grin in his voice.

"Hmmm... smarty pants, as they say here on Earth. You said that because you knew I didn't detect them."

"I have to show off somehow for you. Being the male of the species."

"You certainly did a lot of showing off..." I halt my words, shivering with the fierce heated memory of our recent mating pleasures.

"Coffee, my tigress?" he asks several moments later, even as my cheeks still burn.  "The thermos--"

"I've got it," I interrupt. I fish out two mugs from the duffel bag close to my feet, and also grab the newspaper -- our way of keeping watch on the world.

We're traveling without any e-devices, and Zurroc has disabled the moving trucks various transmitting electronics. No sense in making ourselves an easy target.

"The next time I see you with a pair of scissors I'll have a new level of respect," Zurroc praises and teases.

"You'd better. I believe I've just proven myself." I open the thermos inhaling the coffee's dark rich fragrance.

"Once we arrive in Talbot's Peak, and settle in, perhaps you should talk to Dante about teaching a martial arts class -- specializing in scissors."

I frown at my black tiger's obvious amusement. "Did I look that comical?" I demand, well-knowing he kept a hunter's eye on me as I fought the ninjas. Zurroc can observe me inside his mind, given he's my assigned protector.

"I have to admit, my Kytaira,  if it hadn't been a matter of life and death... let's say I found it humorous." He pauses, turning onto another back street that leads out of New York City. "Scissors instead of your razor claws," he adds as if that should explain everything.

Telepathically, I catch glimpses of his mind's eye view of me in scissor-hurling combat. Reluctantly, I let a smile curve my lips. "Perhaps, I could learn how to design topiaries like Edward Scissorhands."

Zurroc chuffs a laugh, then focuses on his driving. The street is still relatively clear of traffic, and I know he wants to make good time leaving the Big Apple behind.

"Lady Blade, your human-form call name when we trained," Zurroc growly reminds. "Even more true now."

"Lady Blade," I murmur, remembering those times so long ago.

The truck bounces over the poorly maintained road, and I screw the lid back on the thermos. "I'll wait to pour the coffee. How about snacking on buffalo jerky?"

Zurroc rumbles a yes, and I bend down to retrieve the package. As I rip it open, I notice he's circled a small headline.

Canadian relief for Moore tornado victims denied at border U.S. border officials want 20,000 kg of food itemized, physically inspected before entering

"What the shooting star! How can they do this? Those people need help." I re-read the small article. "If my head wasn't firmly attached, it would be spinning, then orbiting around the moon."

"As we know, suffering seems to be of no consequence to those who live like the Earth kings of old." Zurroc's tone condemns.

"Yeah, let them eat cake," I mutter.




Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance



Serena Shay said...

If it's sharp and poky it'll work for a weapon! Oooh, maybe the Lady Blade can add letter openers to her class. She's sure to have a lot of takers in Talbot's Peak. ;)

Pat C. said...

Now that was an action scene!

I wouldn't want to attack her in a library. Sharpened pencils, spinning DVDs and lethal paper cuts ...

Savanna Kougar said...

Serena, right on, sharp and poky... metal, good quality nail files will work, too... and they used to use hat pins. Humans, shifters and supernaturals are highly inventive when it comes to defending themselves.

And, nothing like making the female of the species even more deadly... if she does teach classes... 'course, males are welcome to join in. Kytaira has an open paw.

Savanna Kougar said...

Pat, it's those lethal paper cuts that'll get ya every time.

Death by a thousand paper cuts... it's a working title. ~grins~