Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Obviously a Montana Girl, Born and Bred

Mid-July howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Hope summertime is treating you well. Given I'm still recovering from some health issues, I wasn't up to writing an action scene with my tigress shapeshifter, Kytaira, and her black tiger man, Zurroc.

So... here's a little flash scene I came up that was inspired by the picture above.


Obviously a Montana Girl, Born and Bred

Kerrigan sighed down to her cramping toes. For the last five years, she'd had a real good time partying, and experiencing the high life.

She played hard, a sweet-fierce whirl of laughter and witty conversations with friends, with the most fascinating people -- all while dining on superb exotic cuisines and drinking splendid wines.

Kerrigan also worked hard, and hadn't lost her head or her soul. She'd watched many of the other models lose themselves in the dark world of drugs, endless dieting, destructive controlling men, then bottomless despair.

She'd always offered a helping hand where she could. Being a shapeshifter, she did own an advantage most of them didn't. There were other shifters in the biz, and some had lost their way. In most situation, though, Kerrigan had known how to contact their kin or kind.

Her life as a below-the-radar fashion model -- as in 'no' she wasn't a super model -- not only paid the bills, but she'd socked a good portion of her earnings away for that rainy day when she decided to move on to the next phase of her life.

The time had come, and Kerrigan well knew it. She'd become restless of late, needing to shift more often, and run free over whatever expanse of land she could find. Not always the smartest move.

She'd escaped by a tail hair once from a pack of wild dogs. She grimaced, remembering, since her face couldn't be observed. Kick hell in the butt, trapped by animal control or shot by the urban park police wasn't her idea of a good time, either.

This gig at the car expo was her last. Everything had been finalized with her manager, and she was due to disappear on an eco getaway.

Only an hour to go, Kerrigan encouraged herself, while wishing she could do more than wiggle her achy toes.  She'd always honored her contracts, but now a ferocious itch to launch off the side of the car, to make a run for it, gripped her...

Oh, to throw caution to the wind... just leave... she felt the man's appreciative gaze more keenly than usual. Like a damn laser pointing her out. Or on her, as if she'd been sighted by a hunting rifle.

Kerrigan also glimpsed his high-end cowboy boots that were on the edge of ostentatious, but would serve him well in the harshest ranch conditions. 'My what big feet you have,' she mentally sang, amusing herself.

Men were not on her life's menu yet. She had plans to explore the ancient sites of the world, the ones humans still knew nothing about.

Kerrigan waited for him to either move on, or saunter over and give the car, and her, the once over. Instead, he remained rooted to the spot.

He stood in a group of other polished expensive cowboy boots. Very well used to this kind sexual scrutiny, Kerrigan figured she'd just let it slide off her human hide. But, race for the hills, his scent was certainly potent and manly enough.

It could be he'd mistaken her for a high-priced hooker, and was pondering on how to make her an offer she wouldn't refuse. That had happened more than once. Though, the sudden appearance of her fangs, her curled lip... well, that warning had been enough to chase off the most determined guy.

Some of the models did sell themselves in that market. Not at this gig -- one reason Kerrigan had decided to make it her swan song. 

"Obviously a Montana girl, born and bred."

The man's 'wide open as the sky' timbre commanded the immediate area, and rolled over her skin like a possessive caress.

Damn his big ole hide! Was she going to have to fight herself, and show him fang? Kerrigan had hoped to make a quick, like the fox she was, exit.

His boots finally moved, toward her, of course. Kerrigan swallowed girding herself for first contact.

He could do all the talking while she would have to stay still and mute, the perfect decoration for the posh black shiny auto.

Watching his boots, Kerrigan swallowed the acre of drought inside her throat. She'd have to endure, waiting for Nalinda, the model agency coordinator, to rescue her.

He didn't bother eyeing the ultra expensive machine. Not a pretense. The man halted his footsteps directly before her, his presence imposing as the Montana mountains Kerrigan was familiar with, and loved exploring whenever she visited Talbot's Peak.

But, sheesh! When had luck deserted her? At least, he didn't appear to be in any hurry to inflict a one-liner on her like 'do you come with the car?'

"Kerrigan, I thought that was you."

What the...? She didn't recognize his voice, or his smell... or his big feet. Kerrigan's gaze nearly flew to him, but years of discipline kept her statue-still. The strain of that damn well hurt her face.

Kerrigan clenched her jaw, staring at his oak-tree thighs encased in the fine wool of his suit -- the color of rich coffee. How many minutes did she have left?

Where was Nalinda? And, how did he know her when she didn't know him?

For moments, her mind raced with the same primitive panic that she'd felt escaping the wild dog pack. Although... reason came her aid... he could know her from model agency photos.

"Tell you what, beautiful darlin', I'll just mosey on along for now. Once you've clocked out, we'll get to know each other."

Kerrigan's stomach did flip-flops, then tightened into a knot. What?! Like freakin', effing hell she'd get to know him.

As if he'd sensed her thoughts, and the steam beginning to build inside her, the man hesitated. "Your father sent me to find you, Kerrigan. Little situation back home. Now, nothin' to get in a serious twist over."

If her dad had sent him, then it had to be critically important. He didn't approve of her chosen lifestyle, and they'd lost contact over the years.

The man's scent told her his words were the truth. Oh, tail flips! Now, she'd have to meet with him. Find out what... worry seized her like the jaws of a hungry werewolf.

"Twenty-five minutes. I'll be waitin', foxfire darlin'," he gravelly spoke for her ears only.


Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance


Pat C. said...

Uh-oh, mystery time. What kind of shifter is she, who's the guy sent to find her, what's the trouble back home, who's her daddy? Tune in next week!

Months back I had a vague idea about a feline shapeshifter/fashion model ("Catwalk." Sounds like a CW show, on after The Vampire Diaries)but I forgot about it. Your take is better. Does she have a gay shifter photographer buddy?

Serena Shay said...

Mmmm...big feet. ;) You've got me wondering what kind of shifter Mr. Hunter will prove to be.

Nice job!

Savanna Kougar said...

Pat, she did say quick like the fox she is... so she's a fox shifter. Mr. Big Feet refers to it when he calls her foxfire.

She has gay friends, and has certainly done shoots with gay photographers... but since she's leaving the biz, no.

I'd go with your feline fashion model. That's just too good... Cat on the Catwalk, who has a gay buddy photographer. Love it!

Kerrigan didn't do a whole lot of the catwalk thing, except local type smaller events, since she's not a super model.

Most of her contracts were lucrative offshoots of the biz like the car expo gig, bathing suit modeling, a movie extra... modeling at high society events. That sort of thing.

Savanna Kougar said...

Serena, that's a good question. He didn't reveal that... yet. And Kerrigan didn't pick up on it, scentwise... so???

Pat C. said...

Movie extra? Maybe Ralph would like to interview her. God help us all. But mostly Ralph.