Friends, Lovers and Mated Seals... Hooyah!

It had been a week since they’d brought Tark into the pleasure club for questioning and Reetha was tired.  No matter what she and Dante tried this ass-packet would not break.  She’d considered going in initially and acting like his friend, warning him of Dante’s wrath, but when it came to this skeeze her skills were no longer that good.

“You ready to try again?”

Reetha stopped trying to hold up the wall and looked back at Dante. “No, but we need too.  Everything okay with Ewan?”

“With Ewan – yes, with this entire situation – no.”

“Has something happened, Dante?”

“A skilled hunter has come to town, with a band of wannabe’s in their cute little mystery machine and my sire is making monsters.  I’d be willing to bet the designer drug, Tranq, is a part of his evil genius as well.  Damn, what I wouldn’t give for some peace.”

“Yeah.”  Reetha sighed, dreaming of one or two nights of peaceful pleasure spent here at the club.  Bound and free from the overwhelming guilt of failing everyone she loved.

“Chin up, love.  This too shall pass.”

She smiled at the wolf who was without a doubt the best friend she’d had since Ziva in her youth. 
“You know we need to read Nick in on this soon.”

“I do, but I hate the thought since Ziva’s now pregnant.  He’s snarly at the best of times when it comes to his mate, but now he’s got a hair trigger.  Time with this guy will not help that.”

“True, but he’s scary and he’d already stumped Tark’s tail before you got to them…”

Dante laughed. “That he did and now that there’s a hunter in town gunning for your dad among others, we need more help”

“Pops is still tough, but giving him a heads up would be a good idea.”

“We will.  Now, did this lowlife take the bait?”

“Sure did.  He grabbed the phone when we tussled couple a days ago.  There would have been just enough battery life for him to make one phone call.”

“Let’s go see who he reached out too.”

##

Rafe Silva had caught his mate’s scent the moment he’d entered the pleasure club and it had taken everything in him to hold his wolf back.  Now she was entering the room and he needed to use all of his seal training to keep some space between them. 

“So Tark are you…”

He knew the exact moment she realized he was here as she turned towards where he stood behind the door.  Agony, so clear in her eyes, beat at him.  Losing Jilly forced her to flee and instead of coming to him, she’d run far away.  Well he’d lost that sweet deer too.  And even though Reetha had been the main thing they’d had in common, he still had tender feelings for the woman who shared a bed with him and his mate.

“You!  He called you!  I should have known one rat bastard would call the King Daddy of rat bastards.”

“Ah Reetha, I prefer Sir, but if you want to give Daddy a try I guess I can be accommodating.”

“What the…” “Hell!” “Gaaa!”

Everything happened at once as goatfucks were wont to do.  Dante led with a confused question, Tark swore and banged his head and Reetha came at him only to be pulled back, by another pissed off alpha, before she made contact.

“Whoa there, love.”

Rafe’s wolf got the better of him at Dante’s term of endearment along with the arms surrounding his mate and he issued a mean growl – a warning to the other man.  Dante in turn growled and shoved Reetha behind him.

“Who is this, Reetha?”

“No one, lover,” she oozed, her arm around the other wolf’s middle – fingers toying with his abs.
“Just another lowlife lawyer.”

Rafe willed himself not to react further as he studied the couple before him.  Dante was good at hiding the emotions in his eyes, but he couldn’t quite contain the flinch as Reetha’s fingers pass over him.  His body language screamed that he belonged to another.

“To right you are Ms. McMahon and as such I am taking my client from this place, which is clearly not a police station.”

“We’re not done with your, client,” Dante sneered.

“Yes, you are.  Anything further can be directed to me…Reetha knows the number.”

Rafe directed Tark from the room, closing the door on his mates raggedly wailed “BASTAR….”

##

Outside the pleasure club, Rafe pushed the beaten up waste of space pusher into his car and told him in no uncertain terms to stay put before stepping away and placing his call.

“What?”

The slap of skin on skin, followed by giggles told him all he needed to know about where is friend currently was.  “Aren’t you supposed to be working?  Not indulging in a round of slap and tickle?  And to that point, if it is a little S & T why the hell answer the phone?”

“One moment…Stooly, get in here and cover for me…okay, okay.”  Rafe listened to mumbled threats about not looking and keeping quiet before the sound of a door shutting and a pissed off penguin filled his ear.  “I blame you, fuckhead.”

“Burge…”

“Don’t Burge me.  This guy is a freak, and not some nice loveable one either.  But you knew that already.  Damn Rafe.”

“You’re the only one I could trust with this.”

“We had a lot of buddies in the teams…”

“But you and I were the only shifters.”

“Shit.”

He knew exactly how Burgess felt.  This op felt never fucking ending and it was getting in the way of their relationships with their mates.  “I need you back here.”

“Tell that to the freak.”

“I intend to.  Be ready.”

“What’s going on?”

“The Tranq worked and I was called to Talbot’s Peak.” Rafe once again looked to the self-satisfied knob contaminating his car.  “To save the douchebag.”

“Shit!”

“Exactly.”

~~~

 Have a splendid weekend & keep warm!


Serena

Guest Blogger - JoAnne Myers

Hey Shapeshifter Seduction fans, happy Thursday, ya'll!  Nice seeing you again.  How about helping me welcome our guest blogger, JoAnne Myers.

Hi JoAnne, welcome!  So, I hear you enjoy writing about ghosts because of real life inspirations?  Do tell...

When it comes to fiction writing, almost anything goes. That is why I love writing paranormal and fantasy stories. The author can go completely over the edge and make something unbelievable seem believable. When it comes to ghost stories, I get a lot of my inspiration from real life experiences. Not necessarily my own either. I watch television programs that partake of the supernatural and paranormal flare. Programs from ordinary people who claim they experienced either an afterlife experience, or a haunting.

Some of my stories from my upcoming release “Wicked Intentions” is based on actual hauntings. Some stories I read about in the newspaper, and others I watched on true life experience programs. So the next time you get “writer’s block” try switching on the television. You might find something to jolt your inspiration.

 

Did you always want to become a writer? 

I have enjoyed art since childhood, and have always been able to write.
 

Which book was the hardest to write and which the easiest? 

The hardest was my biography true crime The Crime of the Century, because of the intense research   involved.  The easiest, was Loves, Myths, and Monsters, a fantasy anthology due out later this month. Each tale seemed to flow through the pages. It only took five months to write the book.
 

How long have you been writing and who are your publishers? 

I have only been seriously writing for about ten years. My publishers are Melange Books and Black Rose Writing.
 

Tell us a bit about your new release. 

I actually have two new releases coming up.   The first is Loves, Myths, and Monsters, and the other is another biography true crime book, Twisted Love. It is a anthology of various homicide cases from Ohio and surrounding states.
 

Which book did you spend the most time researching and why? 

The Crime of the Century, was exhausting. I had to research newspaper articles, courthouse            documents, coroner, police and witness reports.
 

Anything else that you’d like readers to know about you? 

Writing is the only activity that keeps my interest. I also paint, but writing is the berries.

Thanks for being with us today, JoAnne.  Any final words for our readers?

I would like to award two winners each a print copy of my poetry collection, Poems About Life, Love, and Everything in Between for commenting. I will pay for all shipping, but only US citizens please apply. 

Awesome!  Listen up, fine readers...if you're interested in winning a copy of JoAnne's poetry please make sure to leave your email addy along with your comment.  :)

Author Bio:

I have been a long-time resident of southeastern Ohio, and worked in the blue-collar industry most of my life. Besides having several novels under my belt, I canvass paint.

When not busy with hobbies or working outside the home, I spend time with relatives, my dogs Jasmine and Scooter, and volunteer my time within the community. I am a member of the Hocking Hill's Arts and Craftsmen Association, The Hocking County Historical Society and Museum, and the Hocking Hills Regional Welcome Center. I believe in family values and following your dreams. 

 

My books along with my original canvass paintings, can be found at: http://www.booksandpaintingsbyjoanne.com

 

Other books by JoAnne:

 

Murder Most Foul-a detective/mystery book

The Crime of the Century-a biography true crime novel

Poems About Life, Love, and Everything in Between-a collection of poems written with respect and love for others

 

Upcoming releases:

 

Loves, Myths, and Monsters,- a fantasy anthology starring the Mothman, the Chupracabra, mermaids, reincarnation, an Egyptian love curse, and etc.

Twisted Love-a biography true crime anthology

 

Contact: joannetucker98@yahoo.com

 

 Blurbs for "Wicked Intentions" a paranormal.mystery anthology

 

　

BLOOD TIES- word count 15, 902

After the mysterious disappearance of twenty-six year old wife and mother Lisa Smalley, her twin, Audra Roper, begins having dark and disturbing visions of Lisa’s disappearance. Trying to survive while looking for Lisa, Audra’s life becomes a roller coaster of risks, heartbreak, and intrigue.

　

　

THE HAUNTING OF BARB MARIE- word count 9,845

Even as a child, Barb Marie saw dead people. This took an unhealthy toil on her throughout her childhood and young adulthood.

　

SUMMER WIND-word count 13,039

When twenty-nine year old Ginger discovers the old mansion Summer Wind, she is mysteriously drawn to it. . Immediately, the haunting’s have a negative and profound effect on the family.

 

THE TRUTH BEHIND THE LIES-laying the Norfolk ghost to rest-word count-23,623

Solving the brutal murder of American born Ruthie Geil becomes a gauntlet of attacks and more murders for Federal Police Inspector Ian Christian. Between the victims family, ex-lovers, and ghostly occurrences on Norfolk Island, the killer is closer than anyone realizes.

　　

THE LEGEND OF LAKE MANOR-word count 8,297

For the young psychic Cassandra Lopez, coming to the infamous and haunted mansion Lake Manor, was more like a mission.

 

THE APARTMENT-word count 5,188

When young newlyweds Bill and Gayle move into their new apartment, their lives are plagued with sightings of evil ghosts that threaten their marriage and lives.

 

DARK VISIONS-word count 5,170

When Carrie Reynold’s starts having nightmares on her twenty-sixth birthday, she believes her “dark visions” can solve the twenty year disappearance of her father.

Not A Drinking Man

Bambie shambled up to the bar in Rattigan's with a soul-weary air hovering over him. Louie had been in the business of running a pub long enough to know a man in need of peace and a long line of cold beers when he saw one. He didn't know the forest ranger well, not being an outdoorsy kind of guy, but he did know that Bambie didn't drink. He wasn't a tee-totaler; he never seemed to care if other people drank around him. He just didn't do it himself.
"Hayah, Bambie," Louie greeted the buck shifter, being careful to subdue his natural Jersey bubbliness. Bambie looked up, sort of raised his eyebrows by way of returning the greeting, and then sat at an empty stool with his eyes down again. Louie didn't ask the buck what he was in the mood for. He just pulled a bottle of Peak's corn Ale, popped the top, and slid it down the bar. Bambie caught it deftly and just looked at it for a long moment before taking a pull on it. He raised his eyes to Louie for the first time since walking through the door. The haunted look in his eyes gave Louie a chill.
"Want to talk about it?" he asked, suspecting the answer would be no, at least not yet. A guy didn't get a look like that lightly and it would probably take several beers for the buck to unwind enough to be able to talk about it. Even then, Bambie may not want to talk about it, but at least he would be able to.
Bambie shook his head once and Louie shrugged. The offer had been made. That was what counted at the moment. He went back to working on his food order and weekly menu after quietly telling the bar tender to start a tab for the buck and to keep the brews coming.
His thoughtfulness paid off about three hours later. Bambie hadn't gotten shit-faced, but had sat there drinking one beer after another steadily throughout the evening. After his seventh beer, he made eye contact with Louie again, signaling that he was ready to talk.
"It's not like you to drink like this, Bam," Louie said quietly.
"Been one hellofa day," Bambie sighed. That Louie could believe. The buck hadn't gotten his nickname just because of his shifter breed. He was genuinely a nice, clean cut, disgustingly honest guy. He didn't drink. He didn't swear, or smoke, or have any other vice that Louie knew of. His whole family was like that. Bambie's step-brother, Tom, was a town cop and his mom and step-dad owned the town hardware store. Nothing but a truly horrible day could have driven a straight shooter like Bambie Deerborne to drink and cuss.
"Some snowmobilers ran down a moose calf today. Broke her front legs so badly that I had to put her down," Bambie said after a long pause. "About an hour later, those assholes came running up, pissed because a cow moose had charged them and wrecked their snowmobiles. They were all, 'you should put that animal down before she kills someone!' Never mind the fact that they had just left her baby mortally wounded. Oh, no! They did nothing wrong!"
"Jesus," Louie said in awed disgust. "Shifters?"
"Naw, they were out of towners here for a little 'communing with nature,' if you can believe that." He shook his head in denial. "The thing is, what if they had hit one of our young?"
Louie knew what Bambie was talking about. What if they had run down a shifter child? Nothing but bad news. The parent would not have just trashed their machines, she would have murdered them. And then the town would be over run with biologists and Feds wanting to know what was going on in this neck of of the woods.
"They still in the area?" Louie asked, a hard edge creeping into his voice.
"Oh, yeah," Bambie said with a bobbing head nod. "They'll be in the area for another week, they said. They want me to keep them abreast of the hunt for the mother of the baby moose they murdered."
And now Louie knew why Bambie had come to Ratigan's. Shifters took care of their own. He was known to the bastards, so he couldn't act. But Louie could.

"Don't worry about it, Bam. I'll take care of this," Louie said grimly.


* * * * *

This bit of flash fiction is based off true events. This more or less did happen here in Colorado. You can find video of a moose chasing snowmobilers on YouTube and a baby moose was hit in the same area that day and had to be put down. Please be careful out there if you enjoy winter sports. We humans aren't the only ones in this world.

The Mutant-landia of Damien Hancock

Pic from: ~mammoththunderpower.files.wordpress.com~

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Now that Damien Hancock's secret 'doctor' is out of the closet but not out of his monster-cloning lab... well... read on.

~~~~~~

The Mutant-landia of Damien Hancock

Damien Hancock, the werewolf pack leader who had first seized Talbot's Peak, growled orders to the four betas following in his wake. "Useless curs," he muttered, as they entered his hidden underground lab located near Pike's Peak.

An unnatural silence enveloped him once the ten-foot thick steel door closed, sealing them inside. His terror campaign to rid Talbot's Peak of humans and cat shapeshifters was yet to be fulfilled, to his everlasting rage.

But Damien was a werewolf man with a devious plan. Several diabolical plans to be scat exact. 

He'd be damned before showing his throat, or bowing to the genius maneuvering of his second son, Dante.  A reluctant respect gripped his innards, and Damien barked a harsh growl at himself.

The cat-licking, human-loving renegade cub -- who favored his dam and had been corrupted by her soft paw -- countered his every move like a master chessboard player but with deadly-attack strategies when required. Dante could fang-rip out the jugular with the best of them.

He'd learned that much from his sire.

Damien smirked, then reminded himself he owned the last fang-ruthless move. Toothy grinning, he sauntered slowly, studying Morloxian's latest army of demon-eyed killer beasts.

Behind a specialized, black-ops grade of plexiglass, on both sides of the ten foot corridor, mutant werewolves occupied huge cubicles. Frozen in a state of stasis, the  hideously formed beasts could be activated, loosed on an unsuspecting enemy -- or any population -- at a moment's notice.

In anticipation, Damien grinned, his lips thinning over his protuding fangs. As he understood the mad scientist's explanation, originally Dire wolf variants had been infected with a dinosaur-ravaging virus discovered in the depths of the Amazon jungle. Of course, Morloxian constantly added his own evil-genius refinements to the gene-bubbling brew.

Recently he'd included the murderous instincts and superior agility of Jackals and Hyenas. Morloxian's gleeful recitation of the process still echoed inside Damien's head, the memory like a B horror movie but without the humorous silliness he enjoyed on occasion. 

As he watched the steel door slide open, Damien girded his loins, preparing himself for the offal stench of the mad-dog scientist. Morloxian remained in a perpetual state of half shift, and no matter his attempt to cleanse himself, the odor stuck to him like fresh tomcat scat.

"Sir." Morloxian glided forward in his strange gait, offering his deformed paw-hand, the one with the unusually long and dextrous fingers.

Random patches and tufts of werewolf fur covered his 'bright as a billiard ball' bald head -- and his body as Damien had been a witness to once. Pained howls to hell, once was enough, as the inane saying went.

To his credit, Morloxian always wore an immaculately clean white lab coat. Damien resisted the urge to howl a laugh as he briefly embraced the lumpy monstrosity within his semi-morphed hand. Whiskers sprouted haphazardly on the scientist's Boris Karloff like features, giving him a cartoon-comical appearance.

"Impressive," Damien growled, referring to the stasis army of mutant werewolves he'd just viewed.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," Morloxian joked in his cracking-odd voice. He waggled his mismatched brows, bushy brows that should only have belonged on a grizzled old mountain man.

"Show me. Are the funds in order?" Damien thought to ask. A happy mad scientist was exceptionally, insanely creative, as he'd learned. 

"More than sufficient, sir. My team has made good progress on those samples you sent of the horse-altered mutants. Although, magick is always a tricky beast to define, and incorporate into the genetic matrix. However," Morloxian stretched his thick, semi-twisted mouth into a smile. "I assure you it can be accomplished."

"I have every faith in your ability. That brings me to one reason for this meeting. I have word from a trusted source... one of your team is an infiltrator." Damien let the rest of his thought hang and blow in the mighty wind of his alpha power, while keenly observing Morloxian's reaction.

"Could you be more specific, sir?" Nothing but respect shone in Morloxian's very human eyes. "You vetted, and have the dossiers on every one of my assistants."

"Yes. So, I do," Damien widened his lips into a smile of acceptance, given the emotional fragility of the werewolf-bitten human. "Why don't you take me on the grand tour? The nose knows. Sniffing out the scat vermin could be quite entertaining for all of us. And," Damien enticed, "give you more useful genetics to play with... perhaps, even a cure."

Morloxian frowned, only enough to demonstrate his point, not as a challenge. "I no longer care about a cure for my... ah... condition, sir. I've come to enjoy my franken-wolf state." He smiled like a jester fool atop a king's hill. "Some females seem to enjoy my 'extra' prowess."

"Yes, I can imagine." Damien clapped his 'ace' against Dante on the shoulder in an intentional human gesture of affection. Such bonding created loyalty, as he'd learned over his lengthy life. "How is your harem?"

A red stain spread over Morloxian's face, then the bald areas of his head.

"No need for words," Damien growled in a friendly manner. "Show me your latest project. Then, we'll sniff out the infiltrator, and have our fun."

"Mammoth genes," Morloxian burst out. "They're all over the black market now. I was able to secure a viable set. You should see the prototype I've created."

Damien wickedly glittered inside with the possibilities of such a formidable creature. "A mammoth mutant werewolf?"

"With tusks that can take out any military tank," Morloxian enthused.

"That does take priority..." Damien envisioned the 'out of the bowels of hell' damage he could wreak on Talbot's Peak proper... on Dante's fortress, the Pleasure Club.
~~~~~~

Wishing you romance on the wild side… 

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

~~~~~~

Doctor? Who?

Dante’s enemies—and the guardian of Talbot’s Peak had quite a few—often wondered if the seemingly-omniscient wolf ever slept. For instance, he was still awake and dressed at three in the morning when the van pulled up to the bar. Ewan, naked as a jaybird and just as chatty, got out, with a human she in tow. He pounded on the bar’s locked door and demanded to see Dante. “Hate to bust in like this,” he said when finally ushered into Dante’s presence, “but we got a hunter out at the Rocky Top looking to blast all comers. Oh, this is Maureen. One of us kidnapped the other one. We’re still working out who’s who.”

“Are you the Doctor?” the woman asked.

For a long time Dante just stood there, his narrow glare bouncing back and forth between the shifter male and human female. Finally he took Maureen by the hand. “My office,” he ordered Ewan.

Ewan shrugged and left Maureen to Dante. He wouldn’t hurt her, even though she was human and a hunter of sorts. She was probably safer with Dante than she was with her erstwhile partners.

Once in Dante’s office he shifted and curled up on the floor for a wolfnap. This had been one nonstop Saturday night, and only looked to get more interesting as the hours wore on. Best to grab rest when he could.

Sure enough, way too soon Dante woke him with a nudge of his foot. Ewan got up and switched back to human, and accepted the Levis and shirt Dante handed him. “How’s Maureen?” he asked while he pulled on the pants.

“Fine, for the time being. You?”

“Just a might ticked. I mean, getting a bag thrown over your head and dragged into a van can be fun, but only if you plan for it.” He buttoned up the shirt. “Same for being tied to a bed. It’s just not the same when hunters do it. Oh, and that dingo dog just happened to show up at the Rocky Top. Funny how that worked out.”

“Hoover warned me about that bunch as soon as they checked in. I was fishing for information. I needed bait. Dugger rode along in case matters got out of hand. I have confidence in your ability to preserve your own hide.”

“A little warning would have been nice.” So would an apology, but Ewan knew better. As an alpha, Dante had to be ruthless sometimes. Ewan shrugged it off with a coyote’s what-the-hell attitude. He’d chucked a human into Dante’s lap, so he figured they were even. “The Loony Toon Brigade is after those mutts of your dad’s. They think we’re building werewolves out of innocent humans. Cochrane wants Vernon McMahon and Lance Lincoln’s heads on a skewer. Any other shifter dies along the way, he’ll be happy.”

“Why did you bring that woman here?”

“It wasn’t exactly my idea. Anyway, they already know you’re involved, or at least the bar is. They came here hunting a werewolf victim, didn’t they? This bunch has done their homework. Cochrane’s a pro, and the rest of them are just stupid enough to be dangerous.”

“Especially now that they know about the Doctor. That was foolish.”

“What? I dropped a little chum in the water to see if the sharks would bite. It’s not like … scat.” Ewan breathed out a growl. “Don’t tell me there really is a Doctor.”

“My sire’s been secretly working with select humans for longer than he wants anybody to know. I thought the ‘Doctor,’ whatever his real name is, was only a rumor too. Then the mutants appeared. We had a chance to examine them when Marissa’s spell turned that one band into horses. Their wolf and human DNA had been knit together with Hancock shifter. My sire is using his pack to make monsters. He has to be stopped.”

But not killed. Ewan slid away from that topic with practiced finesse. “The Monster Squad will hit here first. They found one wolf here, they’ll figure they might find more.”

“Not for some time. My sources tell me most of them are currently incarcerated. I’ll see what I can do to keep them there. Cochrane’s on the loose. He worries me more. I’m guessing he’ll head for town. He can do the most damage there.”

“Yeah. He wants to kill shifters, all he has to do is stand in the square and start shooting.” Ewan sighed. “I’m up at bat again, aren’t I?”

“You’re on standby. We have others in town watching out for Cochrane. You … ” Dante grinned viciously. “You have a prisoner to guard.”

# # #

Dante had put Maureen in one of his special rooms. This one had been tricked out to look like a harem room, minus all the semi-naked girls. She was awake and curled up on a pile of cushions. She stared at Ewan warily when he came in. Ewan just plain stared.

Wellnow. Hell-oooo, Daphne.

Somebody had got her out of her baggy duds and into a little wraparound thingie that showed off a lot of scrawny arm and leg. He still couldn’t see any boobage, but he had a better idea now of where it might be. That same somebody had applied cosmetics with a master’s hand. Her eyes now dominated her face instead of those clunky glasses, and her lips appeared larger and infinitely kissable. The blush, he figured, was probably natural.

He shut the door and plopped down on a nearby cushion. Not too nearby, because she still looked a might skittish. However, she appeared happy to see him, which he took as encouragement. “They treating you okay?”

“Pretty much,” she said. “Who was that other guy? The mastermind?”

“Nah, just the bar owner. He’s a little ticked you guys picked his business as ground zero for an invasion. Things like that cut into profits. I see he helped you clean up, though.”

“That wasn’t him.” Yep, that blush was the real deal. “This—this chorus girl saw me, and shrieked, and dragged me into the ladies’ room and said I needed a makeover. She did my face and gave me this dress and then she left me here.” She plucked at the hem of the dress. “It doesn’t really fit me. I figured I could use it for a nightie.”

“Chorus girl? A redhead?”

“No, she had pink hair. Tall, with a deep voice.” Suspicion leaped into her mascara’d eyes. “Y’know, I think she might have been a guy.”

“Ah. That’s Lamar. He’s harmless. Just don’t let him hug you. He hates to let go.”

“They’ll come straight here, you know,” she said, switching tracks. “We’ve been studying this place. We ID’d over a dozen werecreatures, not just wolves.”

“We?” Ewan said. “Or you?”

She scooted a little bit away from him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.” Finally he got his finger on why her scent hit him as so homey. “You’re pretty good at spotting wolves, aren’t you? I figure that comes natural to you. Just how much wolf you got in you?”

SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY: His Claimed Bride, Happy New Year On Another Earth

Sunday greetings, everyone. 

Once upon a time I wrote an entire flash-scene novel, or 200 hundred words each day, as an experimental free read. Sylva and Zeke's love story began on New Year's Eve 2008. Originally, this paranormal erotic romance was titled: Happy Courtship on Another Earth.

I decided to compile my flash-scene novel, about 160,875 words – give it a read-through, then Indie publish it in flash-scene form. The title is now: His Claimed Bride, Happy New Year On Another Earth.

The fabulous 'perfect for the story' cover art was designed by erotic romance author, Serena Shay, one of our SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS authors.

~~~~~~

 SIX X-Flash Scenes ~

 His Claimed Bride, Happy New Year On Another Earth

A Flash-Scene Erotic Romance Novel

~21~

Sylva jerked her hand back as if she'd touched a hot stove. Only it was the scorch of their passion. Amazed, she watched him skillfully unstrap her high heels, his fingertips brushing a brand through her hose as he slipped them off each foot. "How hot are you, cowboy?" she crooned, utterly unlike herself. *Husband* – it rang through her mind until he looked up, his silvery eyes beaming intensely. "Zeke," he hoarsely prompted. "Hot enough to singe your eyebrows with one kiss." His small grin lit up his eyes, his hand slowly stroking up her leg. "Is that so, Zeke?" 

~~~ 

Zeke circled caresses on her upper thigh, long and beautifully full beneath his palm. Her eyes glittered a dare. He also witnessed her filly-skittishness. Gradually leaning forward, he placed a kiss above her knee. One kiss at a time he moved upwards, fondling the generous curve of her thigh, then her luscious hip. Her soft yielding moan encouraged him, and he slid his palm up her other thigh, pressing kisses until he met the stiff fabric of her skirt. He embraced her haunches, stroked, then grazed his fingertips over the waistband of her strange hose. "Take them off," she murmured. 

~22~ 

Sylva sparkled as if New Year's day fireworks soared inside her. Deciding she would live for today, she lifted her hips a bit as his work-rough hands smoothed down her pantyhose, gliding down her skin in a way that had her ready to swoon. "You didn't answer, Zeke," she provoked, astounded by how sultry her voice sounded. Deliberately he stroked down her shin, his pleasure obvious. "I don't want your eyebrows singed yet, darlin'. That's for later. I want you smoky and silky beneath me." With seductive care, he slipped her feet free of the pantyhose, his hands relishing her arches. 

~~~ 

Zeke caressed her little soft toes, letting his fingertips linger before stroking them away. "Oooh, a man with answers," she crooned, her shoulder rolling forward, teasing his eye. Standing, he unbuckled his gun belt and hung it within easy reach. Not wanting to make her shy away from him, he unbuttoned and slid off his vest, then sat beside her on the lounge. His cock ached a protest, fighting against his pants. Gently capturing the side of her face, he brushed his thumb over her flushed cheek. "What an impudent nose you have, my beautiful Sylva. Should I kiss it?" 

~23~ 

Sylva leaned forward, her breasts throbbing, desperate for his attention. "Please." Breathless and sizzly inside with anticipation, she waited. Bending down to her nose, he kissed the tip tenderly. In what seemed like slow motion, he angled his head, touching her lips with his persuasively. Hope flickered, teasing her. Would being with him cause her agony? Or, maybe ... maybe ... had good fortune finally found her in the romance department? In another world? Answering his kiss, she felt like a seductress as she played her lips over his, tasting the firm shape. God, she loved kissing, even if her nipples begged. 

~~~ 

Zeke patiently devoured her lips with kisses he invented just for her. Her mouth inspired them, playing his like a risque tune on a saloon piano. Claiming the back of her sweet neck, he stroked his thumb over the silken flesh of her throat. Knowing their marriage began this night, and would always be influenced by their first time together, he kept his 'cocked' shotgun holstered, for now. Just for her. She was so beautiful, his Sylva, he wondered how he could ever say no to her. Zeke caressed along her shoulder, his thumb grazing the swell of her breast. 

~24~ 

Sylva nipped his lower lip with her lips. Her breath a storm raging inside her, she whispered, "Zeke, please, handle my breasts." Immediately his rough, oh-so masculine hands caressed over her back. His kisses trailed along her jaw as he smoothly unzipped her bodice, freeing her. Daring herself, Sylva reached out sliding her hand along his thighs. She molded magnificent sinew and muscle. "Yes," she murmured. His wonderful kisses followed the length of her neck and he eased the bodice farther away from her swollen needy breasts. The chill of the air rushed over her nipples. "Oh, please," she pleaded. 

~~~ 

Zeke lurched inside like a wild stallion, toward her. Mentally, he lassoed himself, tugging the rope taut. So far, she wanted him. Angels above stop him, he wasn't doing anything to change that. Dang, she tasted sweeter than roses and honey, with her own female spice that tempted him to launch himself on top of her – ravish her until she couldn't move. He already knew she'd be a perfect fit in his bed, beneath him – held in his arms as they slept and dreamed together. Her little hand on his thigh sent another bolt of need straight to his cock. 

~25~ 

Sylva yearned as she never had. His kisses hungrily feasted on the upper curves of her breasts. Reluctant to let go of his thigh, still, she leaned back, arching her nipples toward his mouth. Masterfully shoving her party dress down to her hips, Zeke slid his hand beneath her breasts, their heaviness cradled in his palms. God, she loved the way her softness felt against his roughened hands. She loved the way he kissed her, wooing her body, just as he wooed her emotions, her desire for him. "Zeke, please kiss my nipples." Feeling naughty, Sylva thrust to his mouth. 

~~~ 

Zeke lifted the creamy confection of her breasts beneath his lips. He pressed a full kiss to the tip of her strawberry nipple, lingering before he kissed her other blatant nipple, pleading and growing with ripeness beneath his lips. Already he missed her touch on his thigh, even though he held her passionate femininity in his hands. He'd bet his year's earnings, she was the type of woman who could be sweet, willing as pie – but, if handled with a wrong rein, she'd lash out at him, fierce and untamed. He surely liked that possibility. For now, he'd gentle her. 

~26~ 

Sylva trembled uncontrollably as he strongly pulled her nipple inside the warmth of his mouth. Still fondling the underswell of her breasts, he suckled in a manner that had her sex dripping, and her belly warming, then simmering. "Harder," she encouraged, when he nuzzled her other nipple. Latching on, he tugged with more force while scraping this thumbnail back and forth over her huge wet nipple. Sylva moaned loudly, her loins flooding with molten desperate need. "Yes." Squeezing her shoulder blades together, and dropping her head back, she offered her breasts completely. She heard his primal groan. She felt it. 

~~~ 

Zeke wallowed in the taste and rigid texture of her bud-plump teats. She was perfect for suckling, a pleasure he intended pursuing often in their privacy together. As he handled her, the pillow softness and shape of her breasts drove him crazy – like a bull in a field of loco weed. She was his bride. Even if she didn't have a damn sweet clue what that meant in his world. She'd learn. No matter how many times he had to rope her, or tan her voluptuous ass before he rode between her creamy thighs. Now, heaven was her thrust nipple. 

~27~ 

Sylva was caught on the edge of ecstasy, her entire body ... not merely her sex bits – especially as he fondled her breasts more vigorously. His teeth gently captured her bliss-aching nipple, tugging and releasing, over and over. She moaned, clenched her eyelids tightly. And wanted more. The desire to feel her skin against his exploded inside her. Leaning forward, looping her arms around his neck, she flowed her hands into the springy thickness of his hair. Embracing the back of his head, she whispered, "Please, make me naked." Sylva kissed his forehead, inhaling his outdoors' scent, his raw male smell. 

~~~ 

Zeke sucked her nipple taut into his mouth, caressing downward. Feeling her darling little waist beneath his hands, he paused, stroking. He eased her short sassy dress over her breeding hips, so lovely in the embrace of his hands. He reveled in the shape, then shoved the dress down her thighs. Keeping her teat deep in his mouth, he slid the bunched material down her calves. After molding the curve of her leg, he gripped the stiff skirt material, pulling it from her feet. "Time to mount up, cowboy," she murmured provocatively. Her lips brushed his earlobe several times. "Zeke." 

~~~~~~

For more Sunday Sneak Peaks ~sneak-peek-sunday.blogspot.com~

~~~~~~

HIS CLAIMED BRIDE, HAPPY NEW YEAR ON ANOTHER EARTH ~ A Flash Scene Novel ~ Out of work, Sylva decides to celebrate New Year's Eve in style. Destiny intervenes when an SUV speeds toward her. Splash she's in a mud puddle. Confused, Sylva sees a cowboy, his lasso swinging. ~ On the hunt for a bride, Zeke figures destiny is favoring him once he gets a good look at the woman. She's fallen right in his path. Given there's a shortage of marriageable women, Zeke throws his rope fast and true.

Available ~

Smashwords Premium Catalogue
Amazon Kindle
Coming soon to All Romance Ebooks  

 
Wishing you romance on the wild side… 

Kisses, Savanna Kougar

TO RUN OR NOT TO RUN---IS THAT THE REAL QUESTION?

Gill looked at the multipaged signed petition laying on top his desk blotter.  He estimated about twenty signatures per page.  He counted roughly ten pages so far.  The petition, thanks to  Rachel who showed up unannounced yesterday morning at her desk, concerned his running for re-election.  If this was an indicator next to the emails, phone calls, and conversations tossed at him recently, quite a few Peakites wanted him to stay in office.

Next to the petition sat the papers he needed to sign to declare his candidacy.  Not that there were any others who appeared to want the job.  Then again, the job wasn't hard.  With the city council in place, more work got done than in most of the prior mayors' terms in office.  It didn't hurt that the older citizens liked having a voice in how things got done.  And the younger folks were taking pride in being active in civic and political functions.

Gill picked up the pen close to the blotter.  Could he take on another term?  He didn't know.  Questions and answers evaded him until now.  With Rachel back, maybe the buried bodies might be less likely to come falling out of anywhere.  There was this dude Tyburn who pushed the mail cart around town delivering mail and newspapers.  He'd shown up around the time Rachel had.  She glared at him and told him to keep his mind on his job.

Gill tossed the pen in his middle desk drawer.  He locked the petition and other papers in there.  Pocketing the key, he strode out of his office whistling.  Rattigan's happy hour was starting.  He had a bar to tend and drinks to dispense.  Running for office could wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy Weekend Gang!

Short flash this week.  I'm working on edits and revisions for my newest book, Tina's Treasures.  When I've got a solid release date I'll post the cover and share an excerpt.

Keep well and warm with this crazy change in weather.  The Spice Homestead is battling our share of colds and flu.  We're getting well one day at time.  Remember to read a good book or two and share them with your loves and spice.

Until next week,

Solara

Friendship at its Finest

One week after Valentine’s, or hell day as she was going to think of it from now on, Day and she was once again persona non grata with her family.  Not that she was really surprised by the turn of events.  Ziva was right to hate her, but not for the reasons she thought.

“What room is he in?”

“He’s in six, but Reetha, I think you should let me talk to him.  Alone.”

“Hell no, Dante.”

“Yes …”

“No way, and hear me out.  This ass-packet has caused me nothing but grief for years.  He hacked my computer, my computer Dante, he’s not bright enough to do that alone.  He tossed me to the dogs, literally, tossed my full blown heated ass into a pack of horny dogs.  My wolf was missing tufts of fur for weeks after that …”

Reetha stopped moving when she felt Dante’s hand on her arm and looked back at him.

“Jilly told me about that one, she was impressed … Reetha, shite, come here, love.”  Warm arms surrounded her as the tears she always tried to hold back, soaked his shirt.  “I know what it’s like to lose a partner, the hopelessness and frustration, but … “

Reetha pushed away and swiped at her eyes.  “She wasn’t just my partner, Dante.  She was my partner, my love … and this guy,” she huffed, pointing down the hall.  “This guy injected her with Tranq one time and the withdrawal killed her.  One time, Dante!”

“Reetha, I didn’t know.  I’m so sorry. Tranq is a designer drug that acts like several hits of heroin all at once and is the only drug that works on shifters.  It’s fast and it’s destructive.  Let me deal with this guy, Ree.”

“No.”  Reetha turned and headed toward room six.  “I want to take this guy apart.  Get the name of his supplier and then watch while Nick tears him apart.”

“You’d let Nick finish the job?”

“He’s my packs alpha and even though they don’t want me right now I respect his right to lead and provide protection to all in our pack.”

Reetha reached for the handle and took a deep breath.  “I can do this, Dante.”

“Yes, you can, but not alone.  I’m with you, my friend, and we will break this guy.  I promise.”

###

Nick held the trench coat closed with one hand and quieted the rulers in the pocket with the other.  He could do nothing about the big wings flopping around on his back as headed towards Ziva’s office.  He was completely nude beneath the coat and looking for a way to make up for the aborted Valentine’s Day dinner.

“Come in.”

Nick pushed the door open and stuck his head in and with his voice low murmured, “I’m here to give you my grace, human.” And he slid into the room.

“Oh my, come on in, angel-boy and let’s see what’s under that trench.”
~~~

Have a safe and warm weekend!


Serena