Bitten

Nick looked up from the editing project he’d undertaken, unsure of what he found so disconcerting.  The article was shite which was a surprise considering the writer was quite reliable, but that wasn’t the most troubling thing to tweak his conscience.   Perhaps it was that this was not the second or third article he’d found this way, but the fourth — all in one day.

Four articles, four different employees and four steamy piles of crap.

What was happening to his staff?  He wondered, rising from his chair and moving towards the door.  It wasn’t Spring fever as they were well into Summer and Fall/Winter were well loved by the shifter populace of Talbot’s Peak.  This blip had to be about something else entirely.

“Penny,” he called, stepping from his office, only to find an empty chair where his receptionist should have been.  He walked to the rail and looked down at the, also empty, bullpen.  “What the hell.”

At the end of the hall was Ziva’s office and hideout.  Maybe the staff had all taken a break to check out the new pictures of their twins.  Heck, that was definitely it, how could they not want to see the cutest babies in the world?

Nick pushed the door to Ziva’s domain open and found…nothing.  It was as empty as the bullpen.
“Lupa’s balls!” he growled and slammed the door before continuing around the upper deck of the office.

“Dayum.” Came a male voice from the conference room.

“Oh baby.” His receptionist agreed, whole-heartedly.

Yeah, his kids were awesome.  He smiled at the thought of family…

“Have you ever seen a tighter ass than that?”

“No, but don’t tell Jamie.”

“I’m right here, Lamar.”

What? Startled by the unexpected question launched by his mate, Nick growled, then threw open the conference room door.

“Shh…”

“Shh..”

“Not now, huh.”

Nick glared at the group surrounding the table, all watching a bare-assed stud -- yeah, he could admit it, to himself anyway -- the guy was good-looking, and the female he was pleasuring, she was hot.  Yet, here his employees sat, wasting time.  “So, anyone feel like working today?”

“Nah…”

“Come on, sss,” Lamar hissed, not even looking at the door.  “Have a heart, we’re busy here…”

“What the hell’s so wonderful about this show?”  Nick huffed at his employees.  Sure, the sex was pretty hot, but a good porn would show you mo…

The scene changed on the flat screen and he was riveted by what was happening.  This incredible woman was shifting.  Honest to Lupa, shifting on TV, and it was astounding and quite life-like.

Okay, he could see it, maybe.  It had action, sex and violence, plus wolf shifters.  Perhaps he needed to give it a longer perusal, work could wait.

“So,” he said, pulling out a chair and dropping into it. “Who’s calling for steak delivery?”

~~~

Have you had a chance to check out this show?  If not, I'd highly recommend it.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Serena

New story idea for the blog

So I had a new story idea for the blog, a good thing since I just hadn't had any writing inspiration in weeks. I hope you like it.

~Rebecca

**********

Samantha parked her 1989 Toyota whoopty car in the last open spot at the strip mall just off the highway and sighed. She had a degree in business, more than a decade worth of experience in corporate accounting. And she was delivering pizza in the middle of Nowhere, Montana because this was where her car, dubbed the Crappy Corolla by her boss, had broke down six months ago. It wasn't even a real town. There was a real town down the road a few miles, called Talbot's Peak, but this was where the only motel was, so here is where she'd stayed.

That fateful day, back in February, she'd had high hopes for a job interview in Kennewick, Washington, which she hadn't made it to. She'd had two-hundred dollars in her pocket, which hadn't been enough to fix the clutch on the Crappy Corolla. She had had plenty of clothes, though, since everything she'd owned had been jam-packed into the trunk and back seat. She might have cried about her lot in life that day, but hadn't bothered wasting her energy. As a product of the South Dakota foster care system, she'd been through worse and had learned how to land on he feet.

The first thing she'd done was get a room at the motel, and then she walked up and down the strip mall looking for a job. She'd found one slinging pies at the pizzeria. Six months later, she was still working there, only delivering pies now that the Crappy Corolla was operational again. She kept telling herself that it was only until she had enough money saved up to make another push for civilization. It wasn't exactly a lie. She had had car repairs to pay for, and room and board to pay for, but she'd managed to save up almost five-hundred dollars, more than twice what she'd had when she first arrived, but experience had taught her that the more money you had, the easier it would be to relocate. High hopes were not enough.

A knock on her window startled her, and she quickly rolled it down. Her boss, Jerad, was leaning over, peering in at her with a frown on his withered, craggy face.

"You ok, girl?" he asked, his gravely voice pinch with concern. "You been sitting out here a while."

"I'm fine," Samantha sighed. "Just have a bit of a headache tonight." She squinted, trying to read the cheap clock on the wall of the pizzeria, a task that would have been easier if the window hadn't been fogged over with years of grease, grime, and fingerprints. Jerad kept a clean store for the most part, but like most guys who had no women in their lives, he never seemed to notice things like dirty windows. If she wasn't mistaken, it was a quarter to ten. Only an hour and fifteen minutes to closing time.

"Well, how about you take one more run for me and then call it a night," Jerad said gruffly. "I've got enough people to cover the closing shift."

Samantha smiled wanly up at the old coot who'd given her a chance six months ago and nodded her thanks. Because here was the real reason she was still in Nowhere, Montana: people who actually gave a damn if she was feeling ok.

Miss Cardinal's Bomb Squad

 From ~digital-art-gallery.com~

Almost Full Moon howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Yes, it's been a busy day, so once again: *Continued from last week, a short flash scene 'cause that's all I can manage.* ... To Quote: "Our Talbot's Peak saga continues. The bad guys have made pests of themselves, and are harassing our beloved mayor, Gil. Well, they just might be real sorry after Operation Crunch."

Okay, how sorry will the bad-guy bureaucrats be having to drive a wolf and saber-tooth mangled car that has also been especially decorated by Miss Cardinal and her bird-shifter friends? 

Note: Pat Cunningham introduced Miss Cardinal in one of her previous flash scenes.

~~~

Miss Cardinal's Bomb Squad 

Madder than a wet hen, even though she was a cardinal, Carlotta streaked through the sky. Another job interview had gone sour, south, whatever... because gosh, gee whiz, what the bird crap... the potential employers were always looking for 'crap' on the chair she'd occupied. The birdbrain idjits couldn't even grasp the fact that when in human form, her body actually acted human.

Soaring over the highway out of town, Carlotta seethed, so hot with anger she wondered if she was about to internally combust... or, instead of spontaneous human combustion, it would be spontaneous bird combustion while in flight. Her grim mental chuckle followed that thought.

Wanting to wing faster, wanting to be impressively dangerous with a wicked beak and wicked talons, Carlotta wished she could temporarily morph into a bird of prey... an eagle, a hawk, a falcon, any raptor would do. But no, oh noooo... she was a mere cardinal, a songbird to be preyed upon.

What the...!!! A UFO parked on the highway... Carlotta screeched to an aerial halt... well, almost. Her wings fluttered rapidly as she braked, and attempted to hover at the same time.

Okay, she'd heard rumors about there being an ET residing at the Pleasure Club, who *get this* had his own disc craft. Curiosity grabbed Carlotta, and she flapped her wings to steady herself, then flew to investigate. After all, she doubted Dante and his super team, would allow a bad-guy ET to land in Talbot's Peak territory.

Well, not without a battle. And no such fight seemed to be happening. Instead, as she closed in, two shifter bikers she recognized as Durk and Zeo, were attacking a car. Most savagely attacking.

Now Carlotta winged faster, her curiosity piqued beyond bearing.

Ah-ha! The state bureaucrats who'd made pest of themselves, it was there taxpayer-paid-for ride. Circling above the fang-ripping action, Carlotta realized the two state agents where nowhere to be seen.

Inside she cheered Zeo and Durk on, and wished deep inside she could mount her own ferocious assault. But no...she was only a small cardinal girl... even shifted to human, she was small, delicate in appearance. There was nothing intimidating or fiercely dangerous about her.

Frustration whipped through Carlotta. But WAIT! She did have a way to express her displeasure with the bureaucratic harassment the Peak had been experiencing of late.

Yep, cheepers creepers -- as she liked saying -- she had a way to help 'decorate' the car, too. 

Bombs away, bird style.

Carlotta mentally smiled. And why not invite a few friends, any bird shifter in the range of her shrill rallying calls.

Once Durk and Zeo backed away, and began changing to their human form, Carlotta dived. With a new determined fierceness owning her, she dive-bombed the car.

Plop! Plop! Plop! She let loose.

Soon, she wasn't the only bird 'letting loose'. The sounds of steady plopping became a vengeful and beautiful music to Carlotta's ears.

She soared high to get a better view. Noticing the white-drippy unevenness of their attack, Carlotta mind-squawked, 'Tactical flock, everyone.'

Immediately, she and the other bird shifters became a  flock. Flying upward, they coordinated their flight, then circled above the car. With strategic precision, they dropped their poop bombs. Ploppity, plop-plop!

TO BE CONTINUED...
~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Chariots of the Dogs

The idea well ran dry today, so I went rummaging through the archives and unearthed this bit from one of last year's newsletters. Now everybody gets to read it. Enjoy!

# # #

Sophie leaned on her back porch railing and gazed longingly up at the sky. Too much light leaked over the landscape to really see the stars, but a few determined celestial orbs blazed defiantly overhead anyway.

“I wish I may, I wish I might,” Sophie murmured. “I wish there were more cute boys in this neighborhood.”

The words had scarcely left her lips when one of the stars began to grow. An airplane, she figured, or maybe a satellite. If so, it was falling. Toward her.

She clung to the rail and watched it plummet. Just before she dashed inside she realized it wasn’t going to hit the house. It was cruising in at a rapid descent, but obviously under some sort of human—or alien—control.

Yes, alien. Now that it had gotten closer she could see its shape clearly in the streetlights. A flying saucer. An honest to X-Files flying saucer! Sophie stayed at the railing. Would the aliens be friendly? And cute?

Maybe they’d be Klingons. Klingons were awesome.

The saucer came to a reckless, skiddy landing in the backyard. Its hatch popped open and half a dozen really cute guys tumbled out. They had to be brothers or cousins or something because they were all blond and looked vaguely alike. Sophie didn’t recognize any of them from school. Maybe they were engineering nerds from college out in Billings.

They lined up in front of the porch and grinned at her. One of them spread his fingers in the Vulcan salute. “Greetings,” he intoned. “We are space coyotes from the planet Talbot’s Peak, come to sample Earth women. Are you an Earth woman ready to be sampled?”

“You are not,” Sophie said. “You’re techies from Billings, aren’t you? I’ll bet that’s not even your flying saucer.”

“Is too.”

“Sort of is too,” one of his brother/cousins clarified. “We kind of borrowed it from this guy our cousin Ewan works for.”

“Appropriated,” another said. “That makes it official. Whatever, it’s ours tonight. So.” He dug the toe of his boot into the lawn. “Y’wanna go do something?”

“Yeah, okay.” Sophie dashed down off the porch. Up close the guys were even cuter, like a pack of rumpled puppies. And they had the coolest transportation ever. Wait’ll she told Nancy and Amber this weekend! “Can we go to the mall?”

“Sure.” Suddenly wary, the spokesman said, “You’re over eighteen, right?”

“Of course I am,” she said quickly. “Are you?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, if you count it in dog years, we’re way older. Your parents aren’t gonna come after us with a shotgun, are they?”

“Nah. They’re not even home. I’ll tell ‘em I went out with my girlfriends.” Explaining the flying saucer might be trickier. Didn’t Nancy’s brother do a science project last semester? That would have to do. She let the space coyotes take her hands and lead her into the ship. “Can I drive it?”

“Maybe on the way back.”

# # #

Once at the mall, the coyotes quickly got distracted by the video arcade and the food court. They were teenage boys; it couldn’t be helped. Eventually Scott, the oldest, looked up from nachos and pinball long enough to ask, “What time is it?”

“Mrgrrph,” Rory said. He swallowed his bite of roast beef sub and repeated, “I think it’s after 10.”

“We should probably get the skimmer back. If Dante finds out it’s gone, he’ll be pissed.” He looked around. “Didn’t we have a monkey girl with us?”

“She left a while ago. She ran into some friends of hers. I think they went over to the east entrance, where the Goth kids hang out. I’ll bet they’re trying to pick up vampires.”

Scott made a face. “And they say we have bad breath. Better get the pack together. Hey, I know! Remember that big ugly ape with the sheep ranch? Let’s zap over there and buzz his flock.”

“That’ll be rockin’. You know how to get the viewports open? I want to hang out the window.”

AND THE BAND PLAYED ON

Gill looked out over the back of the house, looking for any subtle difference.  Anything he could notice.  There wasn’t once speck that caught his eye.  Not even Vernon’s or Miss Ellie’s.  Even the local hawk shifter from two blocks over could locate the one thing Woody said would be there.  Damn, the work ranked up there with extraordinary and out of this world.  Well, given that supernatural powers and human created it, that last part rang true.

“Woody,” Gill began moving to his left, closer to the dragon shifter who had taken up residence with his band in the in-suite apartment in the subbasement of the mansion.  “You’re right.  It can’t be seen.”

Woody laughed.  Smoke rolled out his nose, clouding the area between Gill and he.  “Acoustic music doesn’t reverb walls and travel like higher frequency amps would.  Look even we know when to take things to a lower level.” He turned to Gill grinning at his own pun.

“I’m glad we’re able to accommodate your lair with your needs.  Even the rest of your band found room to settle in.” Gill counted the pile of broken packing crates littering the yard. He lost count as a flash of flames came closer than he liked.

“Easy, Ned,” Woody cautioned.  “Too close quarters to let the flame rage like that.”

“Sorry bloke,” a strong British accented voice said.  Ned stood close to six-foot-seven.  His closely cropped red hair, goatee, mustache, and piercings created an image of badass biker from the UK.  Behind steaks sizzled on the barbecue.  A chef’s hat sat at an angle on top of Ned’s head.  

“No harm,” Gill offered, glancing over his shoulder hoping he didn’t smell more smoke or a singed smell.  Living above a group of dragon shifters was going to be very different.  Then there were the papers Woody presented to the state agent in triplicate plus the signed letter from the supernatural council and the world president of preternatural relations.  It basically said the hills belonged to Woody deeded down through centuries of old English law and current US law.  Wasn’t a damn thing the state could do about it. No fracking could take place unless Woody or his descendants approved it. Given his groups’ polygamous views and fertile reproductive systems, the chance of a warm spot freezing over for ice skating and Beelzebub selling his rights off was more probable. 

 

“Do you think we’ve got a period of peace and quiet finally happening again?”  Gill reached for his son as Chloe handed him to him.  

“Peace and quiet?”  Woody laughed.  No smoke rolled out of him this time. Heat blasted off in spurts as his eyes glowed.  “For a while.  Someone is waiting out there to try to reclaim what they think is theirs.”

Gill swallowed hard.  Had looking over their shoulder as a town become a way of life?

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

HAPPY WEEKEND GANG!

Hope you like the new additions moving into town.  Sounds like digging in and drawing lines is happening.  What is going on at the state capital?  What integrations and plans are taking place there?

Middle of July already.  How is life and summer going for you?  Good, I hope.  The Spice Homestead is enjoying the warm weather.  We're getting together and sharing books, good times, and enjoying each other's company.  Remember to keep a good book or two handy to share with your loves and spice.  I know I am!

Until Next Week,

Solara

Durk and Zeo, Crunch Time

Leo Sun howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Sorry for the late posting, it's been a too-busy day.

Yep, once again: *Continued from last week, a short flash scene 'cause that's all I can manage.* ... To Quote: "Our Talbot's Peak saga continues. The bad guys have made pests of themselves, and are harassing our beloved mayor, Gil. Well, they just might be real sorry after Operation Crunch."

Finally ... Operation Crunch, It's a Go!

~~~~~~

Durk and Zeo, Crunch Time

"Smells like Blade Runner -- our own alien Bugs Bunny -- scared the piss out of those revenuer agents," Durk yelled to Zeo. The wind ripped away his words, but Durk knew his motorcycle buddy heard him. They were a team on the roads and the highway that led out of Talbot's Peak.

"What a stink!" Zeo roared above the wind, even as he roared his speed racer, zooming toward the UFO-stopped car. "What do those guys eat? Smells like they bellied up to a carcass with the buzzards."

"Wahooooo! Look at them suits run." Durk pumped his fist, yet didn't come close to losing control of his cycle. "Almost faster than a speeding bullet." He bent over the handle bars anticipating the crunching-destruction he and Zeo were about wreak with the deadly power of their fangs.

"Run, ugly rabbits, run!" Zeo celebrated. For a split second, he glanced at Durk, a feral grin on his face.

"Hell, don't let Blade Runner hear you," Durk shouted. "He's an effing master with that ET sword of his."

"Run, a-holes, run." Zeo hit the throttle accelerating to what they called hyper-zoom.

Once they neared the abandoned car, Durk in concert with his best bud, Zeo ... together they drastically cut their speed, then slid to a cooler than cool stop. Now only a few feet away from the doubled over, belly-laughing, life-size Bugs Bunny in a silver space suit, Durk removed his helmet without removing his gaze, as he knew Zeo did also.

"Hey, doc, what's up?" Zeo wise-ass cracked, even as he threw a leg over over his bike, and dismounted.

The two of them sauntered toward Blade Runner, who remained bent over. His long bunny ears shook like the tails of bitch in heat as he continued chuckling. A surprise to Durk, the strange snort like sounds didn't squeak.

"Operation crunch." Blade Runner shot upward, his expression warrior-intense. "Go to it, boys. Dante asked me to remind you to spare the engine. We want those scumbag in suits to get the heck outta TP territory." 

"Sure thing." Durk tore off his leather jacket, then slung it toward his speed racer. Not caring where it landed, he then yanked off his boots, and shucked his black leather pants. As he peeled off his white muscle shirt, his shift to wolf began. "Swear on the full moon," he growled in his wolf-gravel voice, "I can't wait to get my chompers around those fenders and do some real serious damage."

"The roof is mine," Zeo snarled around his emerging sabertooth fangs.

****

"Operation Crunch is a go," Kitty whispered and leaned toward her super-tech monitor. Her blood ran on the wild side, and she held her breath waiting the few minutes it took for Durk and Zeo to morph.  

Unballing her clenched hands, Kitty cast a quick glance at her office door to make certain it was locked. "On with the show."

Huge hulking wolf and musclebound sabertooth tiger, otherwise known as Durk and Zeo ... they leaped in tandem toward the hapless car. In a frenzied nightmarish attack, Durk's snapping, jerking jaws, and Zeo's monstrous plunging fangs ... together they worked as a perfect team, mangling the once pristine sedan.

About five minutes later, all four fenders sported tooth holes and were crumpled  beyond recognition, as was the bumper, which now hung twisted, and at an odd angle. The roof and trunk, under assault by Zeo's weight and gargantuan fangs, were now decorated by large, moonscape dents, and gnarly gashes that crisscrossed every which way. 

"Now that's primitive art," Kitty murmured. She smiled. 

TO BE CONTINUED...
~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Take This Job And ...

"So tell me," Tyson said. He did his best to keep the boredom out of his voice. "Why do you want to work for Beaver Brothers Construction?"

"Well." The young woman fluttered her hands like feathers, caught herself, and folded her hands in her lap. "I have three years experience in an office setting, I've worked with Microsoft Office, and my typing speed is—"

"Excuse me, Miss Blandon. You've already told me your qualifications. I'd like to know why you want to work for Beaver Brothers Construction." In his head, he was thinking, Why me? Why do I always get interview duty?

Because, he thought morosely, beavers were a patient breed—you cut down trees with your teeth, you'd better have patience—but not necessarily with other beings. Except for Tyson. He got along with everybody. By default, he'd become the family business's HR department.

"Oh! Well, everybody's heard of Beaver Brothers, you're a stable company, a great place to work, and … and … "

She was becoming flustered. Tyson couldn't help himself. He looked at the seat of her chair.

Miss Blandon flushed a furious red, as befit a cardinal shifter. "I saw that!"

"Excuse me?"

"I know what you're thinking. 'She's a bird, the first time she gets upset she's going to shift and poop all over everything.' We don't all do that, Mr. Beaver. I have never—"

"That's not what turned up in your background check. You might want to revise your Facebook page."

"Well!" She shot to her feet and glowered at him, all five feet of her. "This is species discrimination. You'll be hearing from my lawyer." She stormed out.

Tyson looked at the chair. It was still clean. He'd have to remember to check the rug for spots before he left today. "Next," he called wearily into the intercom.

A young man came in and sat down. Tyson sat up. The young man wasn't nervous at all. Tyson couldn't say the same. He snatched the copy of the resume the young man held out, and tried not to be obvious about checking the state of his fingers. "Mr. Kelso?" he said.

"Randy." The young man smiled. "Let's cut to the chase. I'm a guy and I'm a secretary. I promise I'm fully qualified."

Tyson tried not to wince at the word chase. "You're gender's not the issue, Mr. Kelso. We've hired carnivores before. They usually don't last long. Most carnivores don't like taking orders from herbivores."

The young man shrugged. "Bet you've been hiring alphas and betas. Even deltas get bristly. I'm an epsilon. Practically an omega. Everybody bosses us around. We just take it. It's our nature. My last job, I worked for humans." He sat back to let that sink in.

Tyson consulted his resume. "Why did you leave your last job?"

"I didn't. They left me. They shut the branch office and moved back to Billings. That's what I get for not working local."

Tyson couldn't argue with that. "You seem to have the required office experience."

"I started out working for the Hancocks. That's the nature of a wolf pack. Orders come from the alphas or betas. Everybody else is support."

"Why do you want to work for Beaver Brothers Construction?"

Randy snorted. "I need a paycheck, man. Nobody else is hiring. It's wolf-eat-wolf out there."

"Speaking of that … you know we're herbivorous here? This might not be the best company for you."

"On the contrary. Most of your contracts come from herbies, right? I mean herbivores. No offense. Anyway, think how impressed they'll be when they see you've got a wolf working for you. They'll be thinking, 'Damn. Nobody messes with these people.' If you get any carnie or human customers, I can handle them. When you're low-rank, you learn fast how to handle folks. Nothing ranks lower than a secretary."

You got that right, Tyson thought. "You might get flak from the workers. They're not going to trust you, you know."

"Why not? We don't hunt beavers even in the wild. Your teeth are bigger than ours. It's easier to just buy a steak. Look, I'm used to sitting by myself in the lunchroom. If I brown-bag it, I can bring hummus or something. One meatless meal a day won't kill me. Might even do me some good."

He certainly had the right attitude. And an impressive background. Worked for the Hancocks and humans. That might come in handy. The company was looking to expand. "Mr. Kelso, I'd like to give you a two-week tryout period. If you live up to this"—he waved the resume—"and you don't make the rest of us too uncomfortable, you've got a job here."

"Thank you." The wolf looked honestly relieved. "You won't regret it."

No, Tyson figured, they just might not at that. He shook hands with the new company secretary, and this time didn't even bother to check his fingers. "Welcome to Beaver Brothers."

Muse on Vacation

sorry  no post this week. i am midpoint on a novella that
pris is working hard on with me. she asked  for  day off and a vaccation
so i said okay. she will be back later today fresh and ready
to story write.

until next week, keep reading and sharing your books with your
loves and spice.  i know i am.

smiles,
solara

Friday Funny

I don't know about y'all, but today felt like a good day for a funny.  Just a little something to put a smile on your face and mine.

Have a good one!

Serena

Operation UFOS Are Real

Hot summer howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

*Continued from last week, a short flash scene 'cause that's all I can manage.* ... To Quote from last week: "Our Talbot's Peak saga continues. The bad guys have made pests of themselves, and are harassing our beloved mayor, Gil. Well, they just might be real sorry after Operation Crunch."

But first, Blade Runner, ET rabbit shapeshifter, has his ornery-alien way with the bad guys.

~~~~~~

Operation UFOS Are Real

Blade Runner performed a low aerial circle above the ambush spot. The highway sharply curved limiting visibility for the driver. Stands of tall trees on both sides all but guaranteed no human prying eyes. Except for the odd hiker, and who would believe their alien-rabbit story?

Blade Runner had already shut down cell phone service to this immediate area. No vids allowed.

"X marks the spot." he amused himself with the Earth saying. After recording the area, he repeatedly beamed the images to the two satellites surveilling this section of road -- thus masking *Operation UFOS Are Real*.

"Targets estimated to be one mile away." Kitty's sweet yet purrfectly serious voice  came over his com system, as if she stood beside him.

"In position. And ready," Blade Runner reported, keeping his tone professional. Cosmic-holy patch of carrots, never mess with a catwoman on the hunt, no matter how fluffy and cuddly her exterior. That was one of the top rules in Talbot's Peak territory, especially among the male shifters and supernaturals.

"Monitor is on and working," Kitty informed. "I see the road as if I'm on scene."

"Stay tuned for the space alien show. No ancient aliens involved," Blade Runner quipped. "Descending now."

Hovering just above the height of a car's windshield, Blade Runner waited the few secs of time. Once the state officials' black car appeared from the highway curve, he swooped toward them, blasting the expected white light -- really a frequency that would temporarily kill any vehicle's engine within a three mile radius. Except, of course, Durk and Zeo's motorcycles.

Brakes locked, and tires screeching, the car slid enough so it partly blocked the road  -- that is, before the engine froze. Blade Runner grinned and settled his disc craft in front of the state agents, not ten feet away. On his monitor -- which penetrated their black-tinted windshield -- he watched their eyes widen to saucer-size, and they were practically hugging each other, paralyzed by fear.

Blade Runner initiated the craft's ramp, and with blaster in hand, he strolled downward, then walked the short distance to the driver's window. "Greetings, earthlings."

Waggling his rabbit ears, he continued, "Take me to your leader."

Inside, the two men leaned backward as far as their seats allowed, and from the nasty smell of it they'd already released their bladders. "Take me to your leader. Or I will have to extract the information from your pathetic brains."

Blade Runner aimed the blaster at the driver's head. Both men made panicked mewling sounds, and hyperventilated so fast Blade Runner wondered if their lungs were about to burst.

With a touch of the trigger, he activated the car's automatic windows, lowering them. "Brain extraction begin." Blade Runner spoke in his sinister alien voice. He hardened his expression to *I'm a bad-ass Bunny*, and pointed the blaster at the driver's forehead.

The man on the passenger's side bolted first, nearly falling on his face as he scrambled out of the car like a space rat escaping a doomed ship. The driver followed on his heels, desperately crawling over the empty seat. Still on all fours he launched himself onto the baking asphalt, then nearly toppled his cohort in bureaucratic crime.

Finally gaining their feet in a cartoon-like fashion, the two state officials raced toward a thick stand of trees, quickly disappearing from view. Star-hole hell, humans could tail-high run when it came down to saving their thin hides.

Busting out in laughter, Blade Runner doubled over. He only straightened when he heard the machine-roar approach of Durk and Zeo on what some called their crotch rockets.

TO BE CONTINUED...
~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

A Meeting by Moonlight

The woods surrounding Talbot's Peak tended to fill up after full dark, as the population literally let their inner beasts run loose. By contrast, the streets and sidewalks of the town were practically deserted. Only a few humans and even fewer shifters walked the streets after midnight. Why would anyone bother? The shifters had the woods and the humans had their bedtime. Anyone out and about in town usually had a good reason.

Gypsy's reason was she liked the solitude. Without others around to muddy the auras, she could indulge in feeling the freedom of the untamed forest around her and all the primal sensations that pulsed within. It was like being a wolf without becoming a wolf, though she usually succumbed and shifted before her walk was done.

Tonight, however, she sensed another pedestrian roaming the streets nearby. Circling. Drawing closer to her. Hunting her? Not a problem. She had plenty of time to shift and avoid any pursuers. Or she could cloak her own aura with a simple spell and make herself invisible to the senses, even as she continued to walk plainly along the street.

But this one … This one's aura echoed another's, one familiar to her. Curious, she stayed both visible and human, to see what might approach.

She rounded a corner. There stood a woman, waiting for her. A young and very tiny woman, with black hair streaked with white. Her aura conjured images of the world seen from great heights, and heart-stopping plunges toward prey. A raptor-shifter of some kind, possibly a hawk or a falcon. New to Talbot's Peak.

In spite of that last, Gypsy knew her, after a fashion. She had seen this woman's face in flashes, in the memories of another. The one with whom this woman shared the sense of familiarity.

The woman smiled at Gypsy. She held a medium-sized, rectangular object under one arm, wrapped in butcher paper.

"You're Gypsy, the red wolf," she said with a friendly smile. Her voice carried whispers of an accent, also familiar. "I've been hoping to meet with you."

Gypsy stopped just beyond reach. "You have the advantage of me," she said coolly.

"I doubt if that's possible. My name is Stefanya."

Stefanya. The gyrfalcon. Leader of the Seven. Gypsy had been one of those whose psychic powers had spotted the mercenaries headed for Talbot's Peak. Their purpose here, their target, had become muddled to the Sight of late, somehow blocked from view. But the earliest contacts had muttered Dante.

"You're thinking this is some kind of threat," the woman said, and laughed softly. "Not tonight. Tonight I have a gift for you, on behalf of our mutual friend."

"I don't know who you mean."

"Please. Don't insult me, or him, or yourself. The girls who work at the Pleasure Club will gossip to anyone. Especially that girl who isn't a girl. Ah, that one you do know, yes?"

Gypsy caught herself nodding and stopped. "And what did he tell you?"

"That you had a secret wish. And that you would enjoy this." She held out the package.

It carried no threatening overtones, so Gypsy accepted it and unwrapped it carefully. She gasped.

It was a portrait in oils, exquisitely done. An albino warrior, long-haired and bare-chested, clad in tiger-fur breeches and cape and wielding a massive broadsword. The pattern of stripes on his tiger-skin garment matched Zhere Ghan's in what was probably not a coincidence.

The face belonged to Sergei, her tiger lover. The man who had trained the mercenary standing before her.

But the subject … No one should have known about that passing whim of hers. She'd told only Jamie. Who must have told Lamar. Who would have told anyone, without any urging. Somehow word of her fancy had reached this woman's ears. And this was what she'd done with the knowledge.

A gift? A peace offering? Some kind of diversionary tactic?

"This is remarkable," she said, truly touched. "You have your own magic."

"Me? Fah. I can barely draw a straight line. My Yuri is a man of many talents." She smiled crookedly. "Will you show it to him?"

"He'd be scandalized."

"I know." The women laughed together. "You make him happy," Stefanya said. "In all the years I've known him, he's rarely been happy. Keep him happy."

"I intend to," Gypsy said. She stared at the portrait. She already knew where she would hang it in her home. And when he saw it, there would be curses, then laughter, and then she would apologize in the most delightful way she knew. Repeatedly, if necessary.

When she looked up, Stefanya was gone, as silently and abruptly as her teacher. Even the presence of her aura had disappeared. Gypsy frowned over that. If she knew how to mask her aura, how were the witches to track her? Did her team have those skills as well?

Dante should be kept informed. But not right this minute. Gypsy hurried home, clutching the portrait to her.

# # #

"It's done?" Yuri asked.

"More or less." Stefanya shed her scarf and jacket. "Gypsy was delighted with the painting. She had high praise for your talent. That's the more. This is the less." She tossed a tiny object onto the coffee table. It made a little clink and rolled to a stop.

Yuri frowned at the discarded listening device. "We were supposed to spy on the witch."

"We'll find another witch to spy on. This one's no longer a target."

"But—"

"She's off the list. Forget her."

Yuri narrowed his panther's eyes. "Because of him? Whatever happened to not letting emotions interfere with the mission?"

"It's emotions that will save us," Stefanya said. "They don't yet know we have a witch of our own. Or shaman, or whatever Irwin is. This Gypsy wolf has Sergei's heart. If our mission goes wronger than it already has, he could come after us. I can't stop him. The Seven together couldn't stop him. Only this Gypsy has the power to turn him aside from his kill. That's a power I want working for us, not against." She met Yuri's glare, once more leader of the Seven. "We leave her alone. We leave them both alone."

"Fine," he said. "What's our next move, then?"

Flee Talbot's Peak, she thought, but didn't say. Not while they still had other options, that might or might not align with their employer's goals. If only she could draw a picture that would lead them all to happiness. Perhaps such an ending was not intended for any of them. "Let me think," she said.

We Pause for A Well Needed Break

Happy Weekend Gang!

 

Sorry no post this weekend.  I've worked 5 hours overtime in the last two weeks.  Tuesday morning we got a special project tossed into part of the department's lap that called for overtime. 10.5 hour days staring at a computer can take the steam out of you fast.  I went in early the next day to help finish up the project while working on normal work load.  Friday saw us in a half day change management training class.  Last call of the day I open was a humdinger that needed expert write up.  I had to tap a co-worker's assistance.  Then department head wanted to hear about training class and how we planned to use the material.  Another hour of me at the office.  This was off the clock.  

 

 

So for my enjoyment and yours, please click on the video below.  I stumbled on this band due to another author friend posting the link on Facebook.  The song has its versions in rock, country, and a few other places.  This jazz one is my fave.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

 

Until next week, keep a few good books handy to share with your loves and spice.  I know I'm enjoying sharing mine!

 

Smiles,

Solara

BIGFOOT: Stellar New Evidence

Art by chrisscalf~deviantart.net 

Once again, before the naysayers get their propagenda going, here's more actual scientific proof that says YES, the big elusive guy and gal IS OUT THERE!

From COAST TO COAST AM ~ New Bigfoot Evidence 

First hour guest, college instructor Mitchel Townsend reported on his research paper (selected images ~coasttocoastam.com/pages/forensic-evidence-new-hominin-species~) which he believes proves that a Bigfoot-like creature resides in the Mount St. Helens area of Washington state. In 2013, he came upon a stack of deer bones, and noticed they had giant teeth marks notched into them-- the markings did not fit any predator profile and were too large to have been made by humans. Further, large footprints with a length of 16 inches were found near the bones. Extrapolating the teeth and footprint measurements, Townsend concluded that the creature is around 8 ½ feet tall, with a wide stride.
~coasttocoastam.com/show/2015/07/06~

~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Operation Crunch, It's a Go!

Summer reading in Talbot's Peak...

Summer howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Our Talbot's Peak saga continues. The bad guys have made pests of themselves, and are harassing our beloved mayor, Gil. Well, they just might be real sorry after Operation Crunch.

~~~~~~

Operation Crunch, It's a Go!

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as Gil opened his bottom desk drawer. Holy Peanuts! This was the third time this week that two state officials had demanded a meeting with him. They'd all but goon-rushed him this time, and were just now leaving the mayor's mansion.

On top of that slick-bark tree, when he'd explained his constituents believed in taking care of themselves, and their neighbors... that there'd been a referendum against accepting state aid... then, when he'd told them about the case he'd presented against fracking because the local farmers and ranchers were being adversely affected... the two slick-willies in suits had threatened him with a contrived indictment for a crime he'd obviously never committed.

Gil sucked in a breath, and willing himself to remain calm, he picked up the  receiver. The old landline phone was untraceable and hardened against digital surveillance. Most important, it was a direct line to the library, and Kitty.

"You okay, Gil?" she immediately asked. "My spy-tracker team said those two state guys looked like they could chew nails."

"Yeah, okay. I might be under indictment, though."

"For what?!" Kitty burst out.

"No clue. That wasn't specified...not exactly." Visions of an intimidating chamber with a jury that had already been prepped to condemn him played in Gil's head.

"No worries," Kitty assured after a moment. "Dante will handle anything they legally throw at you. Whatever case they file can be wiped out of existence on their computers."

"Any paperwork can be conveniently not received," Gil added.

"That's the idea," Kitty encouraged, her tone bright.  "However, it's definitely time for action...for a beastly message to be sent."

"Message to be sent," Gil repeated in a cautious voice. "What do you have in mind?"

"If you don't know the plan, mayor, you won't have to speak a falsehood."

"Are werewolves involved?" Gil broke out into another sweat.

"I assure you no blood will be spilled. But think a Halloween prank gone wild."

"Oh," Gil paused, "you said no blood would be spilled."

***

"No blood," Kitty firmly assured, even as impatience clawed at her. "No physical harm...that is, unless they harm themselves. Sit tight, mayor," she added. "I've got to hang up now. Time to go operational."

"Operational," Gil practically squeaked in what Kitty thought of as his squirrel voice.

"Goodbye, mayor." Kitty placed the receiver in its cradle, and picked up her modified walkie talkie. To keep communications private, the frequency had been adjusted by Dante's cyber team.

"It's a go. Durk, Zeo, it's a go. Tail them to the ambush point, and report. Wait for my final okay before Operation Crunch. Over and out."

"Yes, ma'am," two over-eager, male voices replied in unison.

In the background, Kitty heard the telltale growls of two lightweight motorcycles.
The nineteen year old shapeshifters -- one a werewolf and the other a sabertooth tiger -- affectionately called their customized rides, speed racers.

"The targets are in the car," Durk, the werewolf, reported on his walkie talkie.

"They're pulling out now. We're on the case," Zeo, the sabertooth, whispered in his tigery snarl.

The sound of their speed racers crackled over Kitty's walkie talkie as they peeled out.

"Remember, any deviation in their route, let me know immediately. Over and out." Kitty half-shouted.

"No problem. We got it," Durk yelled over the roar of his motorcycle.

Kitty turned her attention to Blade Runner, the Peak's own ET rabbit shapeshifter. He'd proven to be invaluable in many a battle to save Talbot's Peak territory, including against epic fight against the mutant mammoth werewolf. 

Sauntering closer to her desk, Blade Runner gave her a lazy wink, then his trademark grin.

"Ready for Operation Crunch?" she asked, appreciating the man's suave *I'm cool* demeanor.

"Operation UFOS Are Real is about to commence." The amusement in his voice couldn't be missed, and Kitty could imagine Blade Runner's rabbit ears twitching in their characteristic way whenever he shifted to man-rabbit humanoid, instead of his human form, as he was now.

"I will advise if the targets deviate from their route." Kitty lifted the tiny round com device he'd given her.

"Later, Dante's smitten kitten." With a jaunty salute, Blade Runner spun around, heading for his small disc craft. Earlier, he'd landed the craft, fully cloaked of course, on top O'Malley's Gin Joint. Under Dante's direction -- three years ago -- the flat roof had been reinforced to hold the space ship's weight when a leaking problem was repaired.

***

"Yeah, yeah. Got your carrot juice brew right here," O'Malley greeted, shoving the tall stein toward Blade Runner.

"You're quite sure you don't want a complementary spin around the solar system?"  Blade Runner cocked a brow.

"Like the feel of good ole Earth beneath my paws, spaceman," O'Malley grumped, then began wiping down the already clean bar. "Just make sure you put a big bad scare into those revenuer types."

"Just for you." Blade Runner tossed down a large swallow, then brew in hand he strode for the stairway that led to the roof.

Within minutes, he was inside, quaffing his carrot juice ale, and doing a system's check. "All systems go. Firing up the jets...as the Earthers say."

Blade Runner engaged the anti-grav, and ascended over the town. Who would have thought he'd actually enjoy being marooned on backwater planet Earth? And, even more surreal, have an alpha werewolf as a good and true friend. So universe-far, Dante always had his back, and never once threatened to put the predator's bite on him.

But, as Blade Runner had come to understand, fate was stranger than fiction.

High in the blue Montana sky -- above the usual flight path of the birds -- Blade Runner touched the accelerate control. He zoomed toward the ambush spot he and Kitty had decided on.

With his disc ship on auto-pilot, he stepped back and stripped off his human attire, right down to his shiny silver skivvies. Really, one of his spacesuits.

"Eh, what's up, doc?" he parodied, as he morphed into his version of Bugs Bunny.  After tucking a helmet under his arm, Blade Runner gave his tail a good shake.

If those moron clowns in lawyer suits didn't believe in UFOS, or an alien rabbit... Blade Runner smirked... they just might change their ignorant tune after he finished with their arses. Oops, he thought, nope, he wasn't doing the probe-abduct thing. Not again. Once was enough with that monster hunter idjit.

TO BE CONTINUED...
~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

S(he)-Devil with a Sword

Jamie burst into Gypsy's dressing room at the Pleasure Club without knocking. "You gotta stop him," he begged her. "He's gonna—"

"Too late." Gypsy shrugged a robe over her dance costume. "He already is."

"Sonuva—" Jamie raked his hand through his already-messy red hair. "He's gonna hurt hisself."

"It's a rubber sword, Jamie."

"I ain't talking about the sword."

Gypsy pursed her lips. Even she, a connoisseur of exotic costumes, had questioned Lamar's latest choice. But once a snake-shifter tossed his coils around a notion, he tended to squeeze it to death. There'd been no deterring him. "I voiced my concerns," she said. "It was all I could do. I have some salve for afterwards, if he needs it." She rested her hand on Jamie's shoulder. "Can you stand to watch?"

"Guess I better," Jamie grumbled. "Case I have to carry him offstage."

The performance had already started by the time Gypsy and Jamie reached the floor. Lamar was in the middle of a sinuous sword dance, writhing in ways only a snake could pull off without physical damage. The audience ate it up, forgetting even the food and steins of beer on the tables before them. When a crowd's made up of mostly predators, that's high praise indeed.

Jamie couldn't help wincing. "I can't believe he'd wear that. I can't believe she wears that."

Gypsy nodded in sympathetic agreement. "Ouch."

After the Amazon warrior had popped into existence in Talbot's Peak over a week ago, there'd been a minor fad at the Pleasure Club, with the dancers adopting warrior-woman garb. Gypsy herself had devised a variation on a Xena costume. It wasn't practical for fighting but allowed for adventurous dance moves.

Lamar had gone in a totally different direction. A flaming red wig and two brief strips of glittery metal barely inches away from a wardrobe malfunction. Calling it a bikini was being generous. Even for Lamar it was risqué.

"Is that real chain mail?" Gypsy asked.

Jamie nodded glumly. "He bought it off some cosplayer. They had a comic book convention down by the exit last year."

"Some poor human girl was wearing that?" Gypsy shook her head.

"It's a genuine Red Sonja costume, so he's been telling me. The theory is, the bad guys get distracted by her boobs and forget to fight. Lucky for her. That armor don't cover up scat."

"It covers enough. Just barely." Gypsy couldn't stop staring at the bottom half of what passed for Lamar's outfit. All that interlinked metal pressed up against a woman's most sensitive area. The mail didn't even leave room enough for protective panties underneath. She shuddered.

"It ain't so bad for him," Jamie said, interpreting Gypsy's queasy expression. "Snakes don't have body hair, and his personal property's tucked away in the pouch. The falsies protect his nipples. Still, it's gotta pinch. But you know Lamar. Anything for art."

"If he chooses to suffer for a performance, that's his decision. I wouldn't wear anything that dangerous, though. Not even after a wax."

"It's not about the performance so much. It's afterwards. He wants to wear it to bed. I ain't snuggling up against that. I got body hair."

Gypsy couldn't help but smile. "He wants you to be Conan?"

"I got nothing against that either. Wish I had the build for it. I ain't no Schwarzenegger. Hey, you know who'd make a terrific Conan? Sergei. Least he's got the muscles." Jamie gulped. "Aw scat."

"What?"

"I just pictured Sergei in a loincloth. With a sword. I think my balls just ran for cover."

Gypsy also imagined her massive lover in furry briefs, wielding a broadsword, with his long hair flying and his shaft at attention. She growled happily.

"What about Tarzan?" she asked Jamie once she got her voice back. "They always used to cast swimmers as Tarzan for the movies. They're not as bulky. And you'd get to wear a loincloth."

Jamie watched Lamar shake his near-naked ass at the audience. "Tarzan and Red Sonja?"

"Tarzan and Jane. The books were written back in the '20s, I think. Jane always dressed modestly. Nothing that threatened the skin. At least … " Gypsy's dimples appeared. "Until she put on the leopard-skin swimsuit."

"Yeah." Jamie looked thoughtful. "Boas are a jungle snake. Bet he'd go for that. Wonder if I can do the yell? It's pretty close to a howl."

"You'll be fine," Gypsy said absently. Her mind had drifted back to thoughts of Sergei in a Conan pose. All of a sudden she wanted her shift to be over. Somebody was going to be doing a lot of yelling tonight.

# # #

Which brings us to today's public service announcement. For all you female comic fans out there, I direct you to The Hawkeye Initiative. This site is devoted to pictures of male superheroes copying the skimpy costumes and contorted poses too often foisted on women in comics. Enjoy!