Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Bad Stud Behavior and a Knight's Horse

Evening Howls and Yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

So, I've been under the weather the last week, and am recovering now. But everything is on slow mode, as far as getting anything done. Which includes my flash scene for today, a riff off Pat's flash from yesterday.


Bad Stud Behavior and a Knight's Horse

Instinct demanded Kelila flatten herself against the brick building. Instead, her contrary nature kicked in, and she stilled, merely staring as the small herd of stallion shifters charged past her. "How can it sound like a stampede when they're wearing running shoes?" she muttered under her breath, then briefly shook her head at it all.

With her curiosity engaged, Kelila watched the 'racers' skid to a rough stop in front of Rattigan's. They shouldered each other in a battle to win first entry.

"Men are so stupid...sometimes," she derisively whispered. Kelila felt her mouth sourly twist into more condemnation, especially as she observed other Peakites avoid the drunken idiots by crossing Main street. All the while, they daggered looks at the bad behaving studs.

"Louie's likely getting out his cleaver," a passerby commented. Kelila nodded in response, having heard Zance, her wolf-shifter employer, tell the story with his usual colorful gusto.

On a mission to pick up some specialty tea blends from Marissa, Kelila took a few steps toward Java Joe's. She couldn't help but see the neighing louts burst through the door of the bar and grill, while witnessing several potential customers turn away from Rattigan's.

"I'd be getting out the cleaver too," she commiserated, her blood starting to boil. "Or a big ole horse whip."

After shaking her cranky, over-sixty-year-old head again, Kelila strode down the sidewalk, determined to get her list for the ranch accomplished.

"Men, studs, if they spent that much energy making the world a better place, we'd all be happier," she groused. How many times had she had to intervene in similar situations, just to get the so-called menfolk back on track. Kelila rolled her eyes.

Cracking, rather odd sounds burst from Rattigan's indicating a confrontation definitely took place. Likely, several camera phones were aimed on the action, and the results would be uploaded to Taltube.

She and Sherilyn could have a look-see later, just for a few giggles. They'd discovered Talbot's Peak never lacked in humorous, sometimes knee-slapping vids.

About to enter Java Joe's, her hand reaching for the door handle, Kelila heard a thunderous collision of bodies.

"Horse meat sells high in France, ya fleabags," Louie belted out. Each word was a force of nature.

Whipping around, Kelila saw the horse shifters trying to stampede over each other in an effort to escape. Then, they staggered about, sobriety fighting for a chance as they knocked into each other, and any physical object in the way. One sustained a nasty hit to the noggin from the light pole. Another plowed his knee into the steel fender of a big-ass pickup.

"Ouch." Kelila winced. Okay, she did own a tender heart, despite how often it had been bruised and battered.

Comical in one way, concerning in another, she watched the stupid studs stumbling-gain their feet fast enough as Louie brandished one mean, sun-glinting shiny cleaver. "I know werewolves," he threatened, chasing one of the 'racers' who was now racing away like a Derby winner. "Horse meat is on their moonlight menu."

"Only in the Peak," Kelila murmured, and spun around. Her nose struck a solid wall of muscle.

Not just a solid wall, a damn, stone castle wall of muscle.

Shocked, she grabbed for her nose while starting to back up. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, the man's scent registered as deliciously fine.

"Hold on there, ma'am. Are you okay." A mitt the size of Micky Mantle's snagged her upper arm, steadying her.

Kelila held onto her nose. Somewhat cross-eyed, and too close, she couldn't see the man's face. Or anything, but his holy-wow torso.

"I must apologize. Looks like my chest got in your way," the man with the golden but rough voice twanged.

Since her nose quit tingling, Kelila let go. Now her whole arm tingled from sexual awareness, and those tingles were speed-moving through her body . Holy hell! Not that any man -- except some over-the-hill, need-a-caretaker, old geezer -- would be interested in her.

Until her transformation -- as Dontoya called it -- to a younger self.

"No harm, no foul," she finally uttered.

With a gentleness that surprised Kelila, even as she enjoyed it like all get out, the man drew her inside Java Joe's. "No use blockin' the doorway," he drawled with a hint of amusement.

"No use," she parroted, catching a glimpse of biceps that could have wrestled a bull into submission... biceps covered by an old-fashioned chamois shirt.

"Name is Duroy," he offered, ushering her toward an empty table in the back corner of the bustling coffee shop.

Okay, a first name, and she certainly more than liked the way he was handling her. Oh hell yeah, he had the touch when it came to a woman.

But she still hadn't seen his mug. As he was about seat her, her brain clicked on, and the single lightbulb blazed. "Duroy? Are you the new security expert Zance and Dontoya hired?"

"Yep," he casually stated once she'd slipped into the chair he held out. "How do you know, ma'am?"

"I work at the ranch," she answered, feeling almost giddy. "Supplies manager. Well, for the household."

"On my way out to the ranch right now. Stopped in here for a refueling."

Finally! Kelila watched as the hunk o'studly goodness settled himself opposite her on a chair that was a size too small for his massive frame.

Her breath whooshed inward, and burst out as pants she attempted to control. Craggy, handsome, noble, his features were a perfect representation of his shifter side -- warhorse, the steeds of the knights.

"Forgive me for staring," she managed, still trying to catch her breath. "But your face is like your breed. So is your hair."

After sitting down, he'd swept his Stetson off revealing a thick, golden-dark mane that waved beautifully to his shoulders.

"Then you know I'm a horse shifter. I still don't know your name." He bared white, white teeth in a generous smile that also twinkled his coffee-dark, intense eyes.

"Kelila." She offered her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Instead of shaking it, Duroy courtly lifted her hand and pressed a soft kiss. Even though she wasn't a young beauty, it sure felt good to be treated like a lady. Kelila sighed inside.

"I sure hope you don't like racing from bar to bar with other horse shifters, guzzling down drinks..." The words tumbled out before she thought. Yeah, that's what age did for you, a level of bluntness heretofore unacceptable in most social situations. Oh hell well.

A slow charming grin split his features. "Nope. Now if we're racing from bar to bar, Miss Kelila, I'll sure keep pace."

"Funny," she bantered. "Oh, here comes one of the Goose girls to take an order. But you were leaving, and I came in to pick up a special order for the ranch." Kelila started to rise.

"Sit a spell, and tell me about the ranch. If you have the time." Duroy leaned a bit toward her, his expression earnest. "Anything you want, I'm buying."

What red-blooded woman could refuse? Kelila eased back into her chair, and gave him a girlish smile. "Be glad to fill you in, and I am hungry. It's been a long day."


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance


Rebecca Gillan said...

Very nice! I think I'll join in on that story line for Wednesday. Seems to me that Mooney was planning to meet up with Nick at Ratigan's...

Savanna Kougar said...

Mooney and Nick at Rattigan's with the incoming drunken studs... oh, that will be a scene alright! ~smiles~

Pat C. said...

Percheron? Are they English? Does he have a British accent?

I think this week's posts should be dedicated to the first Triple Crown winner in 20+ years. That's worth a beer or three, especially if you're a horse.

Savanna Kougar said...

There are several cold-blood draft horse breeds that came from the Knight's warhorses. I think Percheron is one, but I haven't studied up recently.

No, since he has a Stetson and twangs, no British accent. Duroy's ancestors settled in the American West.

I'd be excited about that, but I trust nothing about sports anymore, so much is rigged these days. And I gave up watching the Triple Crown at least seven years ago because of how a lot of Thoroughbred race horses are treated, drugged, etc. It's a dark, dark world, the underbelly, that is. And who knows if the fix was in, or not? Sorry to be a downer, but I simply can't defend horse racing anymore. If it was on the up and up and the horses were treated well, I'd be all for horse racing. 'Cause, I love it. And I loved racing my horse against any and all comers.

Rebecca Gillan said...

Small track horse racing is fun, but not those big races. Too much money at stake, too much abuse to the horses. Those Thoroughbred horses start training under a saddle before their backs are fully mature! That's the only way they can have them ready to run in a 2-year-old race!

Savanna Kougar said...

Long ago, I got to go to one of those small tracks... I think it was in Wichita, KS... and it was fun! Plus, I picked all the winners, but one, and he ran second... just by looking at horse confirmation, or how well they were built for speed.