Not My Fault. This Time...

Sorry about the late post. I honestly forgot it was Wednesday. It's extra sad since I wrote this post over the weekend; I just forgot to post it. Anywho, here you go. Enjoy!



~Rebecca



* * * * *



The tick-tock of the grandfather clock echoed through the office, underscoring just how quiet it was. Marissa fought the urge to squirm under Gil's penetrating gaze. For a herbie, he was remarkably good at delivering a preditor's stare. She managed not to fidget but she couldn't stop herself from mentally reviewing everything she'd said or done, every spell she'd cast and every curse she'd muttered and every order she'd filled, over the last month. She was sure she had done nothing to earn being called on the carpet. This time.



This wasn't the first time the mayor of Talbot's Peak had summoned her for a reckoning. The last time, it was because she'd accidentally cursed every ass-wipe in town, turning them into horses asses. That one had affected even some local humans. But she'd earned that butt-chewing.



"Did you need something?" she finally asked. It was a mistake, she knew. Gil's MO was to stare people down until they spoke first, usually so unnerved that they accidentally confessed. She wasn't overtly worried; she'd done nothing wrong this time. Not that she knew of, anyway.



"Can you tell me why I knew nothing of the mad scientist parked right outside of town, conducting foul experiments on people?" Gil said, sounding quite casual for a Jersy native. Marissa bit back her knee jerk response. No, sir, Mr. Mayor, sir. Not my job to do your job. She shook her head insteadan you have no idea why I'd want to know there was a madman conduction magical--"



"It wasn't magic," she cut in quickly. Now she knew what was up. Morlaxian had set up shop right under the shape shifters' noses and had turned the mini put-put golf place into his private mutant creature lab.



"Not magic, you say," he said, his eyes narrowing with disbelief. Marissa ignored the insinuation that she'd somehow been responsible.



"Nope," she confirmed. "Morlaxion is a mad scientist, not a mad warlock. He used DNA to conduct his experiments, which is based in science, not magic."



"Surely there was some... unusual taint to the local earth magic because of all the despoiling of natural life."



"Nope," Marissa said decicively. "The earth spirit of the vally doesn't consider Morlaxion's perversions to be abominations, so she didn't signal any distress that a practitioner would hear. To be honest, TP kind of likes some of his twisted children."



"What? Why? How?" He exclaimed. Marissa shrugged.



"He didn't have to use magic to force the change. He did it strictly using natural, if unethical, processes. Earth spirits done give a damn about human morality, only environmental balance. There's a lot of positive energy here, so he'd have to do something really bad to catch her attention," Marissa said quietly.



"Ah," Gil said as he nodded his head to indicate his understanding. "What you're saying--or rather not saying--is that he was good with the land and wasn't putting anything too gruesome so the spirit just didn't care what he was up to."



Marissa nodded once. "The hellephant is pretty gruesome by our standards, but TP just was more interesting animals being introduced to its ecosystem. No magic use equals nothing for witches like me to detect."



Not my fault at all, she thought darkly. This time, anyway..

"We're in the paranormal news again."

Pic from ~wikimedia.org~

End of July howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Okay, for a change of pace, here's a flash scene that was inspired by a Coast to Coast am radio show. JC Johnson, the crypto-hunter guest, spoke about several mini t-rex sightings.  Yes, apparently the killer dinos are still out and about on rare occasions.

Bigfoot & Southwest Cryptids
Date: 07-25-14
Host: Dave Schrader
Guests: JC Johnson, Open Lines
...host Dave Schrader (email) was joined by cryptozoologist JC Johnson (youtube.com/user/cryptofourcorners), who shared his research and experiences with cryptids in the Southwest US. ~coasttocoastam.com/show/2014/07/25~

~~~~~~

"We're in the paranormal news again."

"Allis," Ralff roared from his overstuffed with gravel, hide-covered lounge chair. "We're in the paranormal news again."

"You're not listening to that silly radio show again, are ya?" Allis called from their meat-roasting den. The always-delicious smell of smoking elk wafted inward, almost done elk. Ralff salivated. "They always get it wrong," his mate added.

Ralff harumphed a laugh. "We're being called a 'mini T-Rex' species."

"I resent that remark," Allis hollered. "My girth is quite substantial."

"Substantial and bee-u-tiful," Ralff sexily earth-quaked his voice. Just the thought of Allis's shimmering green-gray hide, her large healthy girth, had his breeder swelling to uncomfortable proportions.

"Oh, Ralff..." his mate crooned. "You're just hungry."

"Hungry for you, lovely lump-o-saurus."

"Dinner is about ready," Allis countered, but Ralff heard the desire in her dulcet gravelly tones. "Were these recent 'mini T-Rex' sightings? I'm always telling the family and friends to sniff for humans."

"Don't recall. But recent enough that the believers will be on the hunt for us."

"Aren't they always? Good thing some of them end up in the human looney bin. Less of a mess if we have to deal with them. And they're not even tasty. Not even turned on a spit, and slowly cooked for hours."

"One reason I listen to the cryptid shows, my sharp-toothed darling. Gotta know what the smooth skins are up to. Plus, ya gotta admit humans are an entertaining species."

"Especially when they're skulking about as if we can't detect their presence." Allis boomed a chuckle. 

"Come to think of it...you know I don't remember well when I'm on the hunt... so don't give me claw treatment, love tail... but my brother told me when me met at the watering hole, he'd seen a bounty poster just the other day, offering a thousand dollars for another T-Rex sighting." 

"Yeah? Who do you think they saw this time?"

"Could have been Screwy Huey...by the limited description on the poster. You know, he's famous for playing what he calls practical jokes on the smooth skins... and every animal species, for that matter. Not much of a hunter. But he sure can scare dinner into leaping off the nearest cliff. Why his relatives keep him around, I suspect."

"As long as we're considered extinct, Screwy Huey is probably safe from being shipped off to the Arctic, and frozen."

"Or burned to bone and ash, then buried. Like he went extinct." Ralff rolled his great dinosaur bulk to settle himself, and lazily rearranged his tail so the spikes couldn't trip Allis when she brought dinner in.

He'd learned his lesson early in their marriage.

Proudly rolling in the enormous cart loaded with roasted bear, Allis had caught her clawed foot underneath the weight of his tail. Everything had gone flying. Allis inches above the stone floor, then headfirst into the cart. Their dinner catapulted over Ralff, smacking into the new wall sconces -- wedding gifts from Allis's parents.

After his initial shock, Ralff had thundered with laughter while helping Allis to her feet. She'd given him the "I'm hurt" look, followed by the female dino glare, complete with a show of teeth. She'd jerked her slim clawed hand from his, said nothing, and tromped to their marital sleeping area. So hard, the cave rattled around Ralff, and he wondered if it registered on the Richter scale.

When their rock-carved furnishings vibrated his legs from being shoved about, Ralff had peeked around the cave's curving wall. Allis barricaded the opening into their private chamber. Despite his pleading, she hadn't relented. That left both the hunting and cooking duties up to him for three whole days.

Given he was a Godzilla klutz at cooking, they'd dined on burnt, half-raw bloody carcasses.  Instead of Allis's fine, perfectly roasted cuisine with herbs.

Hearing his Allis load up the cart, Ralff's stomach ripped forth a sound that shook the rock walls.

"Dinner is about to be served," Allis cheerily grunted in their T-Rex language.

Ralff straightened, and with a swipe of his claw, he switched off the e-device he'd traded for at a local dino swap meet. The rest of the paranormal radio show he'd downloaded from a mountain crevice located near a small town, would have to wait.

Allis preferred listening to heavy metal music when they tore into their meal. Ralff had to give it to the human race, as far as music was concerned. Not like he and his T-Rex kind were built to play instruments.

Now stamping the ground like a drum, and shaking piles of rocks to varied beats with his friends, that did satisfy the primitive side of him. Ralff grinned, sliding his lips over his rows of pointed teeth. But for a good dining experience -- he touched on the disc player. Usually Allis turned it on, given her touch was a bit more delicate, and they'd already accidentally crushed several.

The clanging-banging, high voltage music blasted around Ralff, and bounced off the rock walls. He thumped a foot, adding to the overall din.

As she entered, pushing the stone cart set on smoothly carved wheels, Allis gave him an appreciative grin. Ralff loved her smile, and he did whatever he could to keep his mate smiling at him.

With the roll of one eye, Ralff checked his tail just to make certain it remained out of the way. He was feeling real humping frisky, and once they finished dinner...

"To the moon. Later." Allis ducked her head, giving him a flirty knowing look.

"Pow! To the moon, Allis," Ralff thundered in his dino croon, playing off the old black and white TV program, "The Honeymooners".

"Oh Ralff, I love it when you do your imitation of Ralph Kramden." His lovely Allis shouted above the thrashing-screaming heavy metal. She placed the cart between them, and quickly plopped down on her cushy, hide-covered stool.

The chomping and devouring began...

~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ...

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Go Fish

Following the Hellephant’s progress wasn’t a problem. The once-human creature fed as it went, ripping branches from trees and huge swaths of grass from any meadow it passed. This resulted in large piles of natural “breadcrumbs” left in its wake. Deuce, behind the wheel, swerved around one and rolled up his window. “He does like grass,” he remarked. He glanced over at Ewan. “You sure you wouldn’t rather have grabbed a gun?”

“This’ll work.” Ewan was fitting his weapon together—no easy task, as its larger piece was ten feet long and stuck out the passenger-side window. It made stringing the line somewhat difficult. “It’ll get me on top of him. After that I can wing it.”

“I know you’re a coyote and all, but … a fishing rod?”

“Surf rod,” Ewan corrected. “I grew up using these, back in New Jersey. You can reel in a two-hundred-pound marlin or a shark with one of these babies. Hey, if they’d had a grappling hook I’d have taken it. It’s all about the improv. Any word from Dante?”

“Last time I talked to him, he was making a stand at Schitt Creek. He’ll hold off as long as he can, so you can get Maureen. That means we—there he is!”

Ewan shot a look out the windshield. The broad, brownish-blond line of the mammoth’s back towered above the treeline. Deuce floored it.

The car shot around a curve, right into a pile of poop. The engine ground and shut off.

Deuce worked the windshield wipers, and got only a field of streaky brown. “Dante’s gonna have a goat,” he said.

Ewan, rod in hand, was already climbing out of the car. If anything, Freddyphant had picked up speed. Maybe whatever human memory was left to him recognized the road to Talbot’s Peak. He’d come here to kill shifters, and now he had enough natural power to do some serious damage. No wonder he was eager.

“Get his attention,” he ordered Deuce. “Stall him. Then run and catch up with Dante. I’ll take it from there.”

“Yessir, boss.” Deuce dumped his clothes and shifted. His gray wolf form raced after the motoring Hellephant.

Ewan made a couple test casts to get the feel of the rod and make sure all the parts were working properly. If he could pull this off, what a tale he and Maureen would have to tell their grandkids. “Lord of the Rings,” he murmured, “meet Jaws.” He dashed up the road.

# # #

Deuce did his bit, as well as he was able without getting tromped. He didn’t exactly stop the beast, but he slowed it enough for Ewan to catch up. Then he whirled and ducked into the safety of the forest lining the highway. The Hellephant bellowed its rage. It seemed unaware of the second peril creeping up behind it.

Here goes nothing, Ewan thought, and cast.

The heavy hook snagged in Freddyphant’s shaggy coat, high up on its side. Before Ewan could give it a test tug the Hellephant tugged first, with a long stride back on its course. Ewan was yanked off his feet. He stumble-ran-got-dragged several feet before he could reel himself up. The braided line could hold several hundred pounds of fighting fish; it should be able to handle his one-eighty long enough for him to grab a handhold of mammoth pelt. It was the hook that scared him. If it tore loose—

The hook held. Ewan had one iffy moment when a treetrunk leg swung back at him. He kicked off it and upward and landed near Freddyphant’s underbelly. By the time the hook finally ripped free Ewan was scrambling hand-over-hand up the mammoth’s side. He reached the top, reeled in his line, and took a look around.

The first thing he saw was Maureen. She was clutched beneath the arm of a seven-foot mutant werewolf. The werewolf held onto the swaying pachyderm with its foot-claws and steered it by tugs on its ears. It didn’t appear aware of Ewan’s arrival. Maureen spotted him and clapped her hands over her mouth so she wouldn’t cry out and betray him.

Something must have, though, because the werewolf suddenly turned. Its muzzle wrinkled back from a set of teeth that put a shark’s to shame. It dumped Maureen on the mammoth’s head and charged.

Ewan swung the pole. The werewolf swatted it aside. Three feet of pole snapped off and tumbled to the ground, trailing line. Ewan dodged the werewolf’s lunge and reversed the pole in his hands. He brought the heavy grip end up between the werewolf’s legs. The big reel landed exactly where he aimed it.

Well, howzabout that. Mutant werewolves could yodel.

The beast crumpled, clutching at its groin. Its feet lost their grip on the Hellephant’s pelt. The werewolf slipped and fell over the side.

Ewan darted along the mammoth’s spine and peered down at its flank. No clinging mutant werewolf. If Mutie had hit the ground and survived, he wouldn’t be in any shape to tag along.

Then Ewan’s arms were full of hot, frightened woman. A she-wolf’s hiked scent hit his nose and a tongue crammed into his mouth. Ewan crushed his mate against him and kissed her hard while maintaining both their balances on the back of the swaying mammoth. No easy feat, but coyotes are nothing if not adaptable.

At last he could see her tits. They were everything he’d dreamed they’d be.

Finally they broke apart. Ewan grinned down at her. “You are one tough gal to land a date with.”

“You’re deranged.” Her laugh had only a little hysteria in it. Commendable, given the circumstances. “That wolf thing—he used to be Pete. This—this is Atcheson. Pete told me. They're going to destroy Talbot’s Peak.”

“He’s got a long way to go and quite a few tough characters to get through before that happens. Be nice if we could stop him. You know how to drive this thing?”

She shook her head. “Pete was controlling him, but it was getting harder. I could tell. Atcheson always was a contrary bas—”

The mammoth lurched. Both Ewan and Maureen fell atop its spine. Ewan dumped the rod and grabbed Maureen in one hand and a hunk of thick hair in the other. Freddyphant, it seemed, had finally realized there was no one at the wheel.

Ewan tried to get up. The mammoth’s trunk curled back and quested about for a target. Maureen yanked him back down right before the trunk smacked him. The mammoth trumpeted.

“New plan,” Ewan said. “Here’s where we get off. Wrap your arms around my neck and hang on.”

Maureen clamped her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso. Just in time. Freddyphant suddenly reared up. His back rose at a steep vertical angle. Ewan slid the length of the mammoth’s spine. He managed to snag hold of its lupine tail. They swung there while Ewan scanned the ground for a spot less hard and rocky than the rest.

There. He swung out and let go. They landed dead center in the chosen spot and sank. It wasn’t ground. It was soft and grainy and filled with bits of grass and leaves and stank like a son of a hound. Maureen shook clods of it off her hands and wiped smears of it off her glasses. “Shit!”

“Pretty much,” Ewan said. “Beats broken bones, though not by much. You okay?”

“I will be, after a week-long shower.” She leaned through the crap cushion to press against him. They held each other close. Freddy was already nearly a mile up the road, still stubbornly on course for Talbot’s Peak.

“Ewan?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Are you going to take your hand off my boob?”

“Not in this lifetime.”

“You damn well better not.” She grabbed him by his hair and crushed her mouth to his.

SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY: Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys ~ Chapter Twenty-five

Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys 

Note: Dontoya must retrieve a special ring for Sherilyn to help protect her from her enemies. The ring is part of his family's ancient heritage, and has been kept inside  his clan's hidden section of the Grand Canyon caves. However, his enemies lurk within...

~~~~~~

First SIX paragraphs from ~

Chapter Twenty-five:
Naked except for his traditional loincloth...

Naked except for his traditional loincloth, and a simple headband, Dontoya sat cross-legged near the cave's small entrance. Deep in prayer, he once again thanked Rabbit Spirit for the sacrifice that now filled his belly. He'd needed the nourishment after traveling as cougar deep inside enemy territory. 

For the sake of speed, Dontoya had entered a cave system not far from Talbot's Peak, jumping aboard one of his uncle's underground bullet trains. This hidden method of travel was preferred by many supernaturals, and those in the know, for obvious reasons. 

Given this was a luxury tour of the prehistoric rock strata, the tunnel train slowed and snaked along the Grand Canyon's northern rim. Dontoya exited during a scheduled stop, and as fast as possible left his clothing inside his uncle's generously sized locker. 

That is, except for a saddle blanket he used to wrap around himself. Dontoya secured the pack harness he and Zance had designed to carry his garments, weapons, and supplies--when in his cougar form. 

He surfaced through the natural rock archway, and halting, shapeshifted in the shadows. Dontoya stretched as he took a mental survey of himself. 

With his instincts on high alert, he sniffed and gazed at the rugged sunlit desertscape. In these times, large areas of the Grand Canyon were denied to the public, and patrolled by the above-top-secret army. 

~~~~~~ 

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

~~~~~~ 

Blurb & Excerpts for HER MIDNIGHT STARDUST COWBOYS are on my page above.   

~~~~~~ 

 
Wishing you shapeshifting cowboy love on the wild side... 

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~ 

Amongst the Chaos: The In-Laws Arrive!

Gill tossed the ledger down on the desk.  “Three hundred dollars to get your grandfather unstuck, Chloe.  Is he some kind of daredevil?  I mean how many times can you shinny down a chimney and morph when the moon is out of sight?”

Rachel smiled as she laid more papers on the desk.  “Lunch time boss man.  Be back in an hour.”

Gill glanced at his watch, opened his mouth to speak, and all he saw was the hind quarters of Rachel as she trotted out the office door.  He suspected she ran to keep out of what might become his and Chloe’s first marital spat.  “Great, half the day spent paying the bills your family ran up so far.  How about we go to Rattigan’s and see what Louie’s got on special?” 

Had Chloe paled again?  That was the second time today she’d blanched at the mention of food.  Her consumption the last couple of weeks didn’t compare to her normal intake.  She’d even slept in several mornings missing her work out with Rachel and Tyburn.

“I need to use the bathroom.  I’ll be back in a moment.”  Chloe gripped the arms of the chair she sat in for quite a few minutes.  She slowly rose, looking down as she did.  Gill glanced at the sheet on top of the latest stack of bills Rachel laid on his desk. Oh, double crap!  In-laws and relatives oh my deities!

“Chloe, we need to talk. . .”  His words trailed off as he watched Chloe rush out of his office.  Great, first Rachel and now his bride.
 
Gill sighed and leafed through the other papers in the stack.  Cuss words flowed in squirrel chirps and human verbals.  Picking up the ledger and pen, he started figuring what the Peak could afford if Chloe’s family stayed much longer.  Another bill for her grandfather--$300.  The tooth marks on the oak pews of the century old church next door--$500.  God what had gotten into her three year old nephew?  And then there was her cousin who thought gnawing on the wooden pillars on city hall’s protocol was the right thing to do. The bill for that hadn’t come in yet.

The click of the door opening broke through his growing cloud of frustration and annoyance.  A very pale Chloe slowly walked into the room.  Her eyes darted left and right, meeting his for less than thirty seconds.  She dropped back into the chair she occupied earlier. 

Gill rose, closing the space between them quickly.  Was she ill? Another issue with her family she didn’t know how to tell him about?  He squatted next to the chair.  Taking the hand closest to him, he spoke.  “Love, what’s wrong?”

Chloe kept her gaze adverted.  Gill swallowed.  Something bothered her.  He cupped her chin and tilted her head back.  “Talk to me please.  I’m here no matter what.”

Chloe licked her lips, looked up and spoke.  “I think I’m pregnant.”

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






Happy weekend Gang!


Wow, Chloe pregnant?  Mayor Gill a dad?  And there's Chloe's screwball family.  How long are they going to hang around?


The Spice Homestead is getting back on our feet.  As this weather decides to level out may you all find time to relax and come together in harmony and joy with your family as you vacation. 

 Remember to share a few good books with your loves and spice.  I know I will!

Until next week,

Solara

Queen of the World, or Not...

So Erol was none to happy with the picture I used today, but really who could resist the cute little dragon snort above.  My brain is a little singed from all his tantruming.  Who knew dragons could be such drama queens!  hehe

Enjoy!

###

“I did warn you.”

“Really?  Ugh, blaah.  Eeee!” Karma slid from Erol’s lumpy back, choking and spitting before ending up flat on her ass.  “Ow!”  She climbed to her feet, rubbing her sore tush and watched the dragon create an easy slide down his wing for her friend. “You couldn’t have warned me about the bug fest a little sooner?  They’re in my mouth, Gree!  Yuck!”

“Well who knew you’d pull your Titanic impression and go all queen of the world?”

“I was flying, girlfriend, it’s expected.”

“So are the bugs.”

“Touché.”  Karma dusted herself off and spit, once again digging deep into her throat and sinuses for a really good wad.  Yeah, she could be as girly as the rest of them, but she had bugs in her mouth.  Bugs!  She shuddered, even as a camel she’d never cared for bugs. Unladylike behavior really was the least of her problems.  “Pharaohs balls, I could use a drink.”

“What?!”

Greely’s squeak stopped her from letting loose with another mouthful and whipped her around.
“What’s wrong?”

The giant dragon dropped his head to bring his large nostrils up close to her face.  “Your Egyptian is showing, Hump Back.”  His humph and snort blew her hair back and smelled like burning everything.

“I am a camel and these bugs are worse than a mouthful of hot sand.”

“But Karma, Pharaohs ba, ah well, you know,” Greely stuttered and blushed, not even saying the word Karma loved to torture her with.

“Balls, Gree.  Or would gonads, testies or nuts be better?  Speaking of, you gonna show us a bit of the dangly bits when you shift, Slimey?”

“Karma Thys!” Greely gasped, making Karma smile.  She placed her hands on her hips and stepped in front of the massive dragon as if to block him from view.  “No, you’ll not see anything as Erol is magick, but you would do well to turn around and give him some privacy.”

“Okay, okay…”  Karma rose her arms in a submissive gesture and turned away from her friend and that pesky dragon.  A grin split her face seeing Greely’s protectiveness and love of Erol.  It was as if she’d finally let go of that ridiculous doomed love business and let hope seep into her heart. 

Love should always win.  A heart so full leaves no room for hate.  She’d heard that somewhere, but actually seeing the sentiment allowed her to understand it on a deeper level.  Now if she could get Slimey there to have some fun she’d consider this job complete.

“So, how far do you figure we are from Sin City?”  It was time to get this party on the road.

“I estimated only about a mile.”  The dragon voice was now back to human as Erol stepped up beside her, Greely’s luggage slung over one shoulder and her friend snuggled up in his arms.

“Oh boy, seriously, you’re being carried the last mile in his human arms as well?”  Karma griped even though she was secretly happy for her friend.  “What about me and my bag?”

“I saw you pack that thing, hon, you’d need a mammoth to carry both it and your gorgeous, long body.”

“Well, of course I would.”  She preened before grabbing the bag and wheeling it along behind her. “To bad I can’t find one back in Talbot’s Peak.”

“Bite your tongue, Karma.  Can you imagine the size of its excrement?”

“Pish on that, I’d be more worried about the size of its dangly…”

“Ladies,” Erol chuffed, clearly, not to thrilled by the turn in the conversation. “Let’s move.”

Karma and Greely looked at one another and laughed as they watched wisps of smoke curl out of Erol’s human nostrils.  “Lighten up, E, this is Vegas baby and the dirty talk has just begun!”

~~~

Have a wonderful weekend, y'all!

Serena

Random Snippet From My WIP Files

Today I have for you a random snippet from my WIP files. This is something I wrote down, oh, a couple years or so ago. My muse didn't seem to want to go any farther with the story than just one scene, so htis is all there is. It's set in the world of my Wild Lords of the Hunt series. I hope you like it!

~ Rebecca

Hades, the Greek god of the dead had a dog named Cerberus. Cerberus was the latinization of the Greek word kerberos. Kerberos means spot. Dad figured that if "Spot" was good enough for Hades' hell hound, it was good enough for his daughter, who was a wolf. Not a were wolf, either. Kiko, who's name just happened to mean Spot in Polynesian, had been born a wolf.

She had no memory of it, but the first three years of her life had been spent as a wolf pup, tottering after her father's heals. Her father was a shifter lord. This was only relevant because her own son was now three but having been bore in human form, could not yet take the form of a wolf. It would have made it a lot easier to run like hell and escape the man who used to be Ned's father if the two of them could shift into wolf form. This would be a good time for Ned to discover the ability, but Kiko didn't think her luck would extend that far.

"Shhhh, baby," she murmured in her small son's ear. She didn't whisper, knowing that the sound of a whisper could carry much father that a very quiet murmur. She had found a hollow tree trunk hidden behind a thicket of brambles off the side of the road to tuck him into. Darr had beaten both of them badly in his last fit of rage and she couldn't keep running like this. She needed to hide her son and lead Darr away. Once she was sure Darr was a very long way from Ned, she could shift into a wolf and circle back to Ned. It was a risky plan but she didn't have any choice.

"Mama will be back for you before you know it. Stay here and stay quiet, ok?" She smiled down at her son, trying to hide the fear and anger in her heart at seeing her beautiful, lively boy laying so listlessly on the pile of leaf litter. Darr had beaten the toddler badly, yelling something about Ned having stolen his face and his wife. Kiko took off her clothes and stuffed them in the tree before covering the hole with a large clump of brush. She glanced down the road in the direction they had come and turned to run the other way, being careful to leave a clear trail for Darr to follow.

After a good mile, Kiko rounded a sharp bend in the road. She looked back and realized she could not see the tree Ned was hiding in, though the road had gained some altitude as it wound up the side of a hill. This was a good spot, she decided. She stepped into the thin stream trickling beside the road and made her way to a rock outcropping. She began her change, leaving the water on human feet and stepping onto the rock on wolf paws.

Her return trip didn't take nearly as long, partially because she was running cross country and down hill this time, but also because the change had healed some of her injuries, especially her cracked ribs. It left her even more drained but running was easier for the wolf.

She slowed and carefully checked her back trail--both the new one and the old--before changing back into her two-legged form. She pulled her clothes out and began dressing. There was nothing more she could do. She was too tired and hungry to resume her flight. She crawled into the tree hollow and curled around her sleeping child, hoping it had been enough.

Her first sign that her attempt to hide their resting place from Darr had not been successful was Darr dragging her out of the hollow tree by her hair.

"Run, Ned!" she screamed when she saw Darr turn to reach back into the tree. Kiko grabbed at his legs, throwing her slight weight around like a trout on a line, heedless of the ripping pain on her scalp as hunks of bloody hair were pulled free.

"Where is he?" Darr screamed in her face as he shook her. "Where's that little bastard that took you away from me? I'll get my face back from him and I'll get you back from him, too! I'll leave him dead in the road for carrion to feast on!"

Kiko managed to grab a hold of Darr's leg again. She wrapped her arms around it and bit the first bit of Darr's flesh she found. She bit as hard as she could, bile rising when her mouth filled with blood, but she didn't let go. She had to give Ned time to run, even if it cost her her life. Living if her son died would cost her much more.

"You bitch!" A fist came flying in, hitting her temple hard enough her vision swam. She still hadn't let go so when she was knocked off, she took a bite of Darr with her. A kick to her ribs undid all the healing her two shifts had managed and another kick quickly followed. She couldn't move away and she didn't try to. That was fine, she decided half hysterically. So long as Darr was pounding on her, he wasn’t following Ned. She had to give her precious son time to run and hide.

Darr kicked her over onto her back and she prepared to jump up and tackle him. But no more kicks came. As she lay watching, a long, bloody white arrow tipped with a bodkin head erupted from Darr's throat. He wavered for a moment before collapsing.

Kiko blinked, shocked.

A new head appeared in her line of vision, back lit by the setting sun so she couldn't make out any features. All she saw was a dark outline and a silvery gold corona of hair.

* * * * * * * * * *

Cian, chieftain of Clan Hawk in the frigid northern forest belonging to the mountain elves, had been taking the slow road home from court when the sound of a woman's hysterical screams split the late afternoon calm. He jammed his heals into his horse's flank, driving the large animal into a ground-shacking gallop. His companions did the same and the party of eight elfin warriors sped up the winding road as fast as their horses could safely traverse it.

They rounded a bend to the haunting sound of the woman screaming for someone to run. Down the middle of the road, Cian saw a child standing still as he watched a man beating a woman, probably his mother. Cian nodded at the child and Angus, riding to his left, leaned over and scooped the child up. Cian drew an arrow from his quiver as he unslung his short equestrian bow, saying a silent prayer of thanks that he always traveled as if he was passing through hostile territory. Which he usually was, but that wasn't salient at the moment.

"Cease your abuse or I'll shoot!" he called out as soon as he had the arrow nocked. The man looked back at him, his filthy face a mess of rage. Cian saw the tall pointed ears of an elf peeking through tangled brown hair. He sighed with disgust and loosed his arrow.

It flew true and caught the deranged elf in the back of his neck, crushing vertebrae and severing the spine, killing its target instantly.

"Your suffering is done now, brother," Cian muttered quietly as he reigned his charger in. "Now to ease the suffering you caused to others, if I can."

Cian knew all too well the signs of battle dementia exacerbated by the effects of amphetamines, which some took to in an attempt to ease the nightmares. It not only didn't help, it sometimes made them worse, sending the warrior in an out of control downward spiral of substance abuse and violence. He looked at the tear stained face of the small boy, a child of no more than three summers, then down at the face of the elf he had killed. The resemblance was uncanny, though not surprising considering the words the elf buck had been screaming as he attacked his wife.

He slowly approached the badly beaten woman, not wanting to startle her. Her clothes were ripped to shreds but still covered enough of her small body to preserve her modesty, mostly because she had had the foresight to dress in thick hoes and a long knit tunic. Most females would not have thought to don male garments.

He knelt down beside her and carefully moved the blood soaked mass of her hair away from her face so he could look at her properly. He found himself ensnared by large yellow eyes, wild with pain and fury her battered body would not let her spend.

"He is safe," Cian murmured as he carefully began checking her injuries to see if any was life threatening. "We found your little one. He is safe and unharmed."

Tension melted from the woman's body as she registered his words. Cian had suspected that all of her remaining strength had been devoted to her son's safety. That was why he had told her the child was safe, rather than trying to reassure her that she was now safe. It required no foresight to realize that she had let her enraged husband beat her so that her child might escape. The hollow, sick feeling in his stomach grew. So much death and pain. All for the grain of a few petty tyrants who never had to suffer first-hand the cost of their greed.

We Are Not Alone... Skyflash...

Rabbit Warrior by Tweekt~deviantart.com

Summer-hot howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Gosh, so sorry for the late posting. I just can't get my act together these days. However, I hope the following flash scene, another aerial adventure above the rampaging mutant mammoth-werewolf, is worth the read.
~~~~~~

We Are Not Alone... Skyflash...

Blade Runner, the Peak's own extraterrestrial rabbit shifter, carefully maneuvered his small UFO craft, staying close to the top of the mountain. Upon arrival, mere moments ago, he'd activated the sharp spire of granite with a resonance frequency that kept his disc craft hidden. Enemies lurked everywhere in the unfriendly skies, especially the so-called 'visiting' otherworld races.

With Pachyderm-wolfzilla quaking the ground toward Talbot's Peak, Dante had contacted briefly, both of them aware of a galaxy-sized problem unknown to most. So, despite his earthquaking tryst with his fox-fairy lover that had him sleeping like a newborn rabbit, Blade Runner hopped out of bed. In a matter of minutes, he'd booted up his trusty, pie-pan craft, and soared to the best mountaintop vantage point he'd discovered.

"Skyflash," he identified the incoming ET ship. The quick explosion of light faded as fast as it filled the western quadrant of the Montana sky. "Not good," Blade Runner muttered in his lingo. Immediately, he put on his rabbit ears -- the tech from his world that would give him listening access to the crew -- auto-interpreting their language.

***

"Brother Qiy, the genetically modified mammoth has a most impressive profile. The Earth scientist must be a rogue."

"I see what you mean, Brother Xuon. The beast has certain advantageous capabilities."

"With a few tweaks we would dominate not only sections of Earth, but there are other planet worlds we could trample... hehe... into obedient slaves."

"My thoughts exactly. Do you recall the primordial-stage planet we discovered three-point-five-eight years ago?"

"Yes. I understand. A perfect breeding ground for a pair of weaponized mammoths. The other mutated canine beast riding astride, are his genes useful to us?"

"Perhaps, more than I first realized. He is controlling our future weapon. I will program the retrieval probe to gather both samples."

***

Knowing he didn't need any more information than what he'd just heard, Blade Runner rapidly punched in his own program to intercept the collection probe, and to take evasive action. No doubt, the Crugriox would attempt to laser-burn the hide off him and his craft, about one-tenth the size of their atmospheric cruiser.

Blade Runner grinned, his own rogue nature coming alive. He lived for these David-Goliath contests, as some humans called them. On screen, he watched the probe, tiny as a sliver of glass, deploy.

He darted out of the resonance field, diving his craft like a bat out of hell, as the saying went. Given timing was crucial, Blade Runner flashed toward the now popularly named Hellephant, whose rampage down the highway was leaving  potholes that could eat a small car.

Within a split second, the Crugriox detected his presence. Invisible to the human eye, beams that would make him invisible sliced through the air toward his craft.

"Yahoo and screw you, wabbit killers." With the skilled swift precision that made him excellent with a rapier, Blade Runner dashed through the pelting rays. "This is one rabbit you won't fry up for dinner."

Not that the Crugriox dined on small mammals, their diet being mostly crustaceans. That hardly mattered in the heat of battle, in gaining his prize -- the probe now aiming for the franken-mammoth's monstrous butt like a hypodermic needle equipped with a nano jet pack.

Blade Runner avoided another blast from the Crugriox ship, this one meant to destabilize his power source and disrupt his craft's flight path. Deploying his own catcher beam as he called it, once the hyperspeed calculations completed, Blade Runner quickly lessened his speed.

In a sweeping arc, he flew about half a mile above the Hellephant and its malformed werewolf rider, who appeared to be clutching some very unlucky woman beneath a hairy brute arm. "Heroes desperately needed," he muttered, hoping Dante and crew were on the case. His aerial rabbit butt was about to be roasted, if the Crugriox had their way.

"Gotcha!" Blade Runner triumphed seconds later. With the gene-collecting probe in containment, he flipped his craft upside down, his magnetic boots holding him in position.

On screen, Blade Runner watched the unsuspecting group gathered below never gaze skyward, except Dante, who gave him a brief salute from astride his ultra-tricked out Harley.

An onslaught of microwaving beams struck the bottom of his craft, as expected. Unexpected, the interior steam-heated quick, even though it was protected by a sheet of specialized foil.

"Defcon one, scramble, scramble," Blade Runner repeated the military mantra, thinking fast. "Time to play tilt-a-whirl."

To save himself and fight another day, he tapped the large gold button. Instantly, the craft spun, righted itself, then zoomed across the sky while wobbling madly.

"Riding the whirlwind." Blade Runner shouted. "Cook me now, shrimp breaths." Even as his head dizzied, and his eyes took turns crossing and uncrossing, Blade Runner pumped his fist.

Minutes passed one click at a time. Then, as if a giant hand reached down, his craft stopped its spin and ascended straight up. The loud buzz signaled Blade Runner he was out of range, or the Crugriox halted their pursuit. A swift glance at the instrument panel, once his gaze steadied enough, had Blade Runner hopping up and down with glee.

His hand flew over the weapons' panel preparing the strike. One sizzle and bang to the power unit of the Crugriox's ship, and they'd be the prey. Blade Runner collected every last ounce of energy from the craft's systems that wouldn't cause him to fall unceremoniously out of the sky.

"Butt-whipping about to take place." Stealthily, Blade Runner positioned himself above the cruiser, now concealed by a large cumulus cloud. Likely, the Crugriox waited for another chance to steal the lab-brewed monster's gene material. Enough to risk an attack.

"Pow, pow..." Blade Runner crooned, and palmed the shoot-to-destroy button. He pushed.

Streaks of red pulsed through the cloud. "Wow! Target is attained... target is attained," Blade Runner celebrated. On screen, he watched the neon stream blast the exterior of the cruiser, then penetrate the power unit.

Wise enough not to push his luck, or his craft, Blade Runner unlocked. Zipping high into the sky, he returned to the mountaintop, and hovered. Just in case...

~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ...

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Dante Takes a Stand

Dante managed to squeeze in a couple of hours’ sleep before the first frantic reports flooded in. There were calls from Deuce and Hoover on his personal phone, and dozens of others on the public “hot line” in the bar. The trouble with being Talbot’s Peak’s unofficial alpha wolf was that people tended to treat him like their personal 911 unit.

This time, that panic might be justified.

He only needed to listen to a handful of calls to get the gist of the peril. Still aching from the wounds he’d sustained in the Philippines, he nevertheless rolled out his motorcycle and roared it down the road toward what sounded like a major disaster.

“Ewan,” he muttered under his breath, “what the hell did you do?”

One look at the hybrid mammoth monster lumbering up Route 15 and Dante shifted blame to where it belonged, onto Dr. Morloxian’s shoulders. He got his bike fairly close to the beast before it tried to stomp him, but that was near enough to see the mutant werewolf perched on its skull and controlling its progress. A second rider saw him and tried to jump. The werewolf caught her in one brawny arm and crushed her struggling body against him.

Dante’s mouth thinned. Hostage. The seriousness of the situation rose another notch.

He swung his bike around and sped back up the road, scanning for the best place to mount a counterattack. The most defensible spot—if a defense could even be devised against something like that mutant pachyderm—was the bridge spanning the unfortunately-named Schitt Creek. “They were an early settler family! It’s a legitimate name!” the town historians had sworn when Mayor Gil questioned them. Like the Mayor, Dante had his doubts on that score. However, he didn’t doubt that if the mammoth made it past the bridge, all of Talbot’s Peak would be up Schitt Creek in more ways than one.

Movement overhead caught his eye. Two winged beings swooped down from on high and landed before him. One was one of the golden eagle twins—Rafe, by his scent. The other caused Dante’s brows to climb. He’d heard of Pegasus shifters, but had never seen one until now.

The winged horse shifted into a slender, lovely young woman with a waist-length mane of red hair. She introduced herself as Syprelli. “I’ve been following the monster since it broke out of the earth down by the interstate,” she said. “It’s definitely headed for the town. The creature directing it has a hostage. A young woman. I tried to get close enough to help her, but … ” She waved her arms. “It’s difficult. My other form has no hands, and this form has no wings.”

“Same for me,” Rafe, now in his human form, added. “Not to mention that trunk is a bugger. I made a dive at the werewolf on its back and Dumbo nearly nailed me. If you’re going to bring it down, it’ll have to be from a distance.”

“I have access to weapons that could stop it,” Dante said, “but I’d rather not use them until we get the girl off its back. Provided we can.” His mouth tightened. “She’s the mate of a friend of mine.”

Syprelli nodded. “I saw them. Two wolves. They’re following the monster in a car.”

“Then Ewan has a plan.” If he didn’t, he would when he got there. Coyotes were more seat-of-the-pants types. As long as it worked, Dante would back it.

The sound of a motor on the road from the Peak side made all three of them turn. A dusty camo-painted pickup truck trundled down the road and rolled to a halt before them. Dante recognized the driver as Abram Turkle. His passenger Dante only knew by his bad reputation: the human hunter, Cochrane.

“Heard you had some trouble brewing,” Turkle said. “We’re here to help.”

Dante glanced at Cochrane and let the “we” slide by. Any port in a storm. “Do you know what we’re up against? Did you bring sufficient weapons?”

Turkle snorted at the obvious. “We’ve got two elephant guns and a grenade launcher,” Cochrane said. “We just need to figure out how to get close enough.”

“If that doesn’t do the trick, I can run home for the cannon,” Turkle said. “The aim ain't accurate, though. We only fire it on the Fourth of July.”

“There’s a hostage on the mammoth’s back.”

Cochrane looked at him. "And there's a mammoth headed for your town. Let's stay focused on the big picture here."

Dante bit back a growl. He truly detested the hunter, but the man seemed honestly willing to help. “We think the mammoth may be a genetically-mutated human. One of yours, in fact. Does the name Atcheson mean anything to you?”

Cochrane’s expression darkened to downright murderous. “It means I get the first shot. Ass-kissing psycho, that’s what he is. I should have punched his clock a long time back. I hope you aren’t planning on taking him alive. From what we heard on the police scanner, that doesn’t sound like an option.”

“First we rescue the hostage. I’ve got a man working on that.” He hoped. Dante turned back and peered down the highway. The beast had not yet become visible from the bridge, but its hate-filled bellows could be heard for miles. “Come on, Ewan,” he murmured. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it fast.”

Dragon Air...Come Fly the Ferocious Skies.

“No, Fair One, this will not do.”

“Yeah, Gree, though I loath to, I’ve got to agree with the horned slime one here…this is a bad idea.”

Greely looked at her traveling companions and once more wished she could produce smoke from her nostrils and breathe a bit of fire over their asses.  “And how exactly would you both explain a dragon,” she whispered behind her hand, “landing right on the strip?”

“So we land further out of town and call a taxi to come pick us all up, Gree.”

“Yes, hump back, that would be acceptable.”

“Hump what!?  You did not just call me that, Slimy.  No you did not!”

“Oh for the love of… Erol, Karma, shut-up!  We are going to have fun on this trip, not call each other names and snark.  Now, both of you march your asses into that airport and suck. It. Up!”

Greely grabbed her suitcase, pulled out the handle and wheeled it towards the entrance.  She’d had enough of the two of them and their bickering and this trip had just started.  All they’d done so far was make it to Billings and were going to catch a flight to Vegas.  If, of course, she could get her dragon lover on to the plane.

“Oh shit.”  Greely stopped, a cold sweat flashing over her skin.

“Now she’s thinking this through.” Her best friend chuffed, before sitting down on her suitcase.

What had she been thinking?  A dragon on a plane?

“What fools presume to carry me to this place of sin in a long metal tube?  What could they know of lift and drag?  How will they skirt the turbulent skies with immovable wings?  I shall discuss their so called qualifications with these so called Air Jockey’s.”

OMG, he would to…try to confront the pilot’s that is.  Then they would find themselves confronting air marshals, the FAA and the whole of the US government.  They’d be put on do not fly lists and would be considered terrorists.  She didn’t want to be at odds with the government.  Sure she didn’t always agree with them, but this country was her home and she loved Talbot’s Peak and never wanted to be forced away.

“Hump Back, where do these monkeys sit to fly their plane?”

“Damn Slimy, that nickname is getting old.  They sit in the cockpit ~don’t you just love that word~ in front of the plane. There’s a little door separating them from us, but it’s always locked.”

“I am Dragon!  Locks mean nothing.”

Oh God.  “Okay wait…” Greely turned back to look at her love and her smirking friend. “Perhaps you both are correct and it would be best to fly dragon air into Vegas.”

“Now you’re talking, Gree.”  Karma rose from her suitcase and adjusted her clothes.  “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

“Dragon Air, Fair One?”  The look he gave her would have drenched her panties if she’d been wearing any.

“Let’s just go, okay?”

Erol nodded to her and took up the lead heading out of the airport.  Greely walked and watched as his sexy backside rolled beneath his jeans.  Damn, she couldn’t wait to get to the hotel.

“Roll your tongue back in, Gree, or you’ll catch some flies.  Unless, of course, that was your plan.”

“Shut it, Karma.  And don’t think I don’t know this con has your camel stink all over it.  Did you really want to ride a dragon this bad?”

“Hell yes!  Who doesn’t want a reptile between her legs every once and a while?”

Greely rolled her eyes and laughed.  “Put it back in your pants, camel, or I’ll be forced to push you off over Reno…and don’t think I won’t do it.  That jumbo is mine.”
~~~

First stop...Vegas, baby!  I wonder what kind of trouble our trio can find in Sin City?

Have a fabulous weekend!

Serena

Talk Nerdy To Me

Continued from last week and partially inspired by this video:



Myra looked around, bewildered. She was standing there just inside the bar she had been planning to visit. Her outfit was torn and dirty. She had blood drying in her hair and a neat row of butterfly Band-Aids holding a three inch long section of her scalp together. And somehow, she'd let the bouncers from the bar drag her inside for a complimentary drink "on the house."

Actually, she hadn't "let" them talk her into it. They had insisted she come inside and had dangled the free drink like a cookie before a screaming toddler. Myra, being somewhat more mature than the average four-year-old, had understood that she could go quietly and have a drink or she could be flung over someones shoulder and carried in kicking and screaming. Considering her state of dishabille, o one would say a word against them carrying a hysterical woman inside for her own good. She decided that discretion was the better part of valor. It had better not be a bottom shelf drink, though.

"What's up with her?" someone asked. Myra peered myopically at the speaker, her glasses now ground to dust in the parking lot.

"She got run over by the helliphant," gnarly bouncer dude said. That's how she thought of them, gnarly bouncer dude and hick bouncer dude. One was dressed like a biker and the other like a giant sized ranch hand. Not very imaginative, but considering that her head was pounding like something huge and prehistoric had run her over--because something prehistoric had!--she figured she could slide on it.

"Really? And she's up and walking around?"

Myra decided sight unseen that she liked the person speaking. His voice was tinged with mild awe and a healthy dose of appreciation. That was not how most people reacted to her skating through her mishaps mostly unscathed.

"I'm flexible like that," she said with the best smile she could summon, knowing it probably wasn't a very appealing one. She just didn't care at this point.

"No, really. How are you still standing?" another blurry person said. Myra shrugged. screw it, she thought. So what if her geek flag was about to fly.

"I do RPGs. You know, roll playing games? Last fall, my game leader decided to write a whole slew of scripts based on giant rampaging monsters. I guess we worked that scenario so many times that, when faced with the real thing, I just sort of reacted instinctively. Not surprising, since Marlo had us doing it over and over again until we'd come up with actual usable kata for surviving battle elephants, dragons, and hydra."

She cringed, waiting for the scorn to flow, but it didn't.

"OH, man, you're in pain! How stupid of me. Here honey, take my seat."

"I'll run up to the bar and grab an ice pack for you," another voice said.

"So, what role do you play? Are you, like, a battle mage?"

"No way, Larry! She's clearly a warrior princess. You are a warrior princess, right?"

"Um," she said, nonplussed. where was the scorn? These guys sounded like they actually knew something about how RPGs worked. "I'm a worgen, actually. We do D&D."

"That is so hot!" the ice pack guy said as he slid said ice pack into her hand.