Rebellious Claws, then Releasing the Beast

Howls and yowls, Shapeshifter lovers. Tomorrow is the first day of Autumn. The sun leaves the sign of Virgo behind and brings it’s radiance to Libra, the sign of balance. The Full Moon happens on the 23rd and is in the fire sign of Aries.

Since Sol and Luna will be in opposition to each other, this may be the time for those ‘opposites attract’ romances. Purrs, it’s an ideal time to pen those types of scenes, or bring forth that next story idea where opposites attract.

Yes, I admit it, I was born to be a rebel. That theme is always present in my books.

Who we are at our core, what we resonate with, will always do its best to shine forth in our stories. As human beings we are not mass-produced by Creation. Our purpose, our path on the beloved Earth is unique, and becomes part of life’s exquisite tapestry.

So, of course, our shapeshifter heroines and heroes are individuals with their own tale or tail to spin and tell. They each have their own path to their mates.

In the past few days several issues in my authorly world have brought out my rebellious claws. My fiercely raking fangs and claws... grrrrrrrrr. No, I won’t go into detail. At this point in time, I haven’t investigated the situations enough to offer the whole truth.

Suffice it to roar, I don’t discriminate against any romance subgenre, or any heat level, because I don’t want to [it’s not my nature] and because it’s not my business what your reading preferences are.

This is also a matter of principle to me. I don’t want to be discriminated against, so I’m not going do it. Yet, it appears discrimination may be on the rise, or the herd mentality is alive and all too well. There are other dynamics that drive this type of prejudice, as well. Since that discussion would require a doctoral dissertation to explain fully, you are spared.

All of us should be able to enjoy the reads, the books we want. This is fundamental to freedom. This is our natural right as human beings.

At a primal level, this could be one more reason why so many of us enjoy our shapeshifter romances. The inner animal and the shifted beast demands freedom and lives true to her/his nature. If not, then often that is the crux of the story ~ living your truth and releasing the beast.

And, oh, baby, do I love releasing the beast, or beasts...

Here are a couple of *unedited* snippets from my short story WIP ~

Soon he told himself, he would handle her round-as-orb curves. God of Eros! How fiercely he wanted to taste her skin, a deep shade of golden amber. With his genetic heritage as both hawk and panther, he intended on pleasuring her with his tongue’s rough texture. Often.

Dhray Zorr growled long and low, his chest vibrating. His panther ruled him now. She brought out all his beasts. Hawk, panther and male. His wings quivered in anticipation of stroking her.
~~~

Feathers, several of them, brushed over the swell of her hip. Feathers?

She heard a low raw growl. As the sound vibrated through her, feathers slipped along her side. The whispering brush was so faithful to her curves that Striker succumbed to the pleasurable sensation for long seconds.

No, she reprimanded herself.

“Ibajah woman,” the man-beast rumbled in common galactic.

Striker failed to identify his accent. Disturbed he knew her race, but she didn’t know his, she nearly moaned when feathers brushed the side of her thigh. Sensually, he teased her waist with a finesse that enticed her toward surrender.

The tips of large feathers slowly pleasured her ribcage opposite the delicate slide of feathers over her belly.

Striker’s eyes popped open. Wings. He had wings. I’m weightless inside his wings.
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The Kougar’s news and mews ~

A New Review at ~

PARANORMAL ROMANTICS blog

A Sunday Review by Stacey Kennedy

Black Cat Beauty
by Savanna Kougar

Rating: 4 Stars

“A LINE THAT HAD ME DROOLING WITH WORD ENVY -- But wishes were for lay-around, canned tuna-eating cats. Not for her. No, never for her. Seeking the feel of him, her body swayed toward him, her desire coiling deep for him.”

THE BLURB:

A private Halloween party in a gothic mansion hidden in the Hollywood Hills. Add one party crasher, Sable Kiki, a naughty black cat with a sexy, wild, human side. Her covert assignment from her devious, always cunning father: Use her seductive wiles to find out the truth from Devon Zant, a movie star on the rise to super stardom.

Posing as the superhero actor, Devon Zant, D’Torr has arrived on Earth seeking revenge for the capture of his younger brother and to assist in stopping a powerful enemy. The leviathan warfleet of the Altirrux wants to rule all intergalactic trade routes to Earth, endangering the survival of D’Torr’s race and all the inhabitants of the rare blue jewel, Earth.
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Full Review at ~ paranormalromantics.blogspot.com/?zx=bcdd30b68f759d7a ~
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~ HAPPY ALMOST AUTUMN SHAPESHIFTING ~

Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
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Writing Werewolves and... so ferocious I paw the dirt...

Oh, those werewolves! Always stealing the shapeshifter limelight. Of course, the wolfies might say, ‘yeah, without us howling at the moon and terrorizing humans for centuries, the rest of you shifters wouldn’t have ever had a shot at the limelight. Not to growl, but the ladies love us alphas, furry and when we’re not furry’.

Okay, as a writer of shifter stories, yes, I have several ‘wolf’ WIPs. So far, I haven’t had the opportunity to finish, revise, polish and then submit any of them. So, am I missing the paranormal erotic romance boat as an author? My ticket to selling fame and fortune? Okay, so I dramatize... I ain’t riding on Nora Robert’s shooting star.

Here are some snippets from my Wolf Shifter WIPs ~ which one appeals to you the most?

Secret Lives of Fortunate Wolves

Chapter One ~ American Werewolf

Werewolves of London, Coming to America by Robert Bateman.
Keira shoved her cousin’s latest article-writing attempt into one of her bags as the phone rang.
“Aunt Debbie, hello. What can I do for you?” Keira shouldered the phone while trying to tie her shoe, a comfy black suede half-boot.
“Dear, are you busy?”
“On my way out... taking some of my jewelry pieces up to Diane. Got Rob’s article. I’ll proof read it tonight.”
“Your mother said you were going up that way.”
“What is it, Aunt Debbie?” Keira attempted patience, slowing her breaths.
“Hunting the American Werewolf.”
“Are you talking about Rob or Coast-to-Coast when Linda Godfrey was on?”
Keira forced in more patient breaths and stilled the anxious whirl inside her head.
“Yes, Ian’s Punnett’s new show. I’m worried about Rob.”
Keira tingled, an eery crawling in her stomach she didn’t like at all.
“What’s going on, Aunt Debbie?”
“Rob hasn’t called.”
Keira tingled, a fierce sensation that rushed through her. Rob’s fanatic hobby was cryptozoology, chasing after unknown or paranormal creatures.
“What’d he do? Grab all his camera gear? Head up to Lake Geneva to hunt for the American Werewolf?”
“Yes, and he hasn’t called.”
“Where is he supposed to be, Aunt Debbie?”
“He’s staying at a small motel, The Half Moon. I spoke with him three nights ago. Rob said he would call last night.”
“What town, Aunt Debbie?” Worry furrowed Keira’s brow. Rob always called being a bit of a mother’s boy.
“It’s a tiny place. Don’t even think it’s on the map. Blue Moon Bay.”
“Road sign for a turn off, yeah, I’ve seen it. Sure, I’ll stop. Check in on him.”
“Thanks, dear. Be careful. Storm movin’ in I heard. On the morning news.”
“Call you on the cell, you do have my number?” Keira hefted the last bag over her free shoulder, then reached for her purse, one she’d glitter-designed just for the fun of it.
“Yes. Your mother gave it to me. Blessed be, dear.”
“Blessed be.”
Keira set her phone down, hurrying toward the front door. Outside, she tossed everything into her car, then hopped inside the Plum Silver Goddess, the name she’d given her 94 Eclipse. “Let’s go.”
Checking for traffic, she zipped onto the street, heading for the old two-lane highway. Blasting up the music of her favorite radio station, Keira drove toward the Land of Linda Godfrey’s american werewolves, an area in rural Wisconsin, east of Lake Geneva.
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The Black Wolf’s Prophetess

Chapter One – Kill the Black Wolf

Duke Zon of the Virgo Moon Clan, wolf shifter born of an ancient lineage, loped the rest of the way up the high grassy ridge. Tonight he roamed the southern edge of the Crow Indian Reservation, near Billings, Montana. It had been several moons since anyone from his pack had patrolled the area. A sentinel’s eye and a keen nose prevents tragedy. His sire’s never-ending reminder dominated his thoughts for a few seconds, until the stench, only a whiff, from a chased skunk caught his nostrils.
Pausing at the top of the miles’ long ridge, he surveyed his surroundings before raising his gaze toward the stars. Mother Moon hung in the western midnight sky, a slim silvery claw. Duke howled his reverence to the all-guiding Mother, his wolfen soul singing joy through him.
Before traveling farther along the ridge, he sniffed the gentle crosswinds of early autumn, on the lookout for any enemy. Cautiously, he scanned the cattle range below for any telltale movements signaling he’d been heard and should abandon the area. He could be shot on sight if the humans thought he posed a ‘clear and present’ danger to their cattle.
Duke grinned to himself. If ‘they’ only knew what he actually was, there’d be a black ops bounty out on his black fur hide faster than his howling had sacred-touched Mother Moon. Eternal luck to his Lukan kind, so far their secret had been preserved among the humans.
He couldn’t see the cattle with his wolf sight. Still, the odor of the thin herd burned rank and potent inside his nostrils. Two full humans, also rank in smell, camped nearby, the sound of their fire crackled inside his pricked ears.
Effortlessly Duke trotted along the ridge, only glimpsing the luminous forms of small foraging creatures, then hearing them hop and scamper at his approach. He wasn’t hungry, the sweet tang of their pumping blood was merely a pleasure, not an enticement. No, he was fiercely restless. He needed time to consider his next move, whether or not to challenge his two brothers for leadership of his local pack.
Hearing the stealthy hunt of a wolfess near the cattle herd, Duke loped toward her, curious. She wasn’t a shifter by her scent. Sudden alarm raised his blood. If she dared take down one of the herd, it could mean her death, or her severe injury. The bloody horrible scene played out before his mind’s eye – the wolfess dying, blood spurting from her, her beautiful body maimed and lifeless. Fearing for her, he raced down the side of the enormous ridge, his speed increasing with each stride.
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Moonrise of the Fairy Wolf

Drune ~

Drune clumsily lifted his swollen paw from the semi-frozen mud at the stream’s bank. He’d drunk thirstily, having traveled far and fast without prey or water. With his thirst satiated and his belly too tight to feel hunger, he felt the pull of Mother Moon. He focused his gaze through the black lacing of tree branches. Drune filled himself with the softened blaze of the moonset, ignoring the relentless itch crawling over his hide that meant he’d been in his wolf form for days too long.
Unable to do anything else, he threw back his head and let his howls rip up his throat. The songs rushed from his anguished soul. As he howled, the darkest hour of night fled and the warm moist winds arrived from the south bringing a dense fog that washed over him.
Gods beseeched, he didn’t want to find her and capture her. Force her to return with him, hand her over to the evil Queen-Sorceress, Rawvlin, even if Rawvlin’s Owl had spoken the truth. The woman he sought was the Queen-Sorceress’s stolen daughter of three decades past. If true, her pedigree would be the collision of two fae dynasties, one light and one dark. The power of both flowed in her veins, and possessed her magick.
Panting shallow quick breaths, Drune didn’t move, except to glance upwards. The etheric trail of the five crows dimly fluoresced, only seen by his eyes because of his heritage as fae and wolf. He could hunt by etheric energies as easily as he could scent his prey, sighting their aura signatures. Reluctantly, he turned to follow the trail, padding slowly until he could force his wooden exhausted legs into a trot. His gait was so lumbering he felt a sense of shame.
Flicking his ears back, he listened to the lonesome call of a gray-wing dove beckoning her mate. As he moved out of the deepest woods into the ground-shrouding fog, a young rabbit dashed ahead of him, slavering his jowls, yet doing nothing to tempt his belly. Drune had caught the faint smell of the woman, yes, the fragrance of a scarlet-tressed fae.
No fae of that lineage would live here. The fae population of this kingdom were Dilutes, considered more human in nature and resemblance. And to his knowledge none of them possessed an animal form.
Life pulsed through Drune at her stronger scent. Once he was close enough he could regain his human form, but only then.
He had tried every way to break the curse, and failed. Finally, he’d lain on his side tempting death, his paws twitching uncontrollably, the foam of his fatigue dribbling down his canine fangs. In the end, he hadn’t cared about his own life, only the end fate of his sister, who Rawvlin kept as her imprisoned guest.
He realized he was about to destroy her life, the woman he had to find, then capture to save his sister.
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For now, Darius, my bull shifter, has decided to voice his thoughts.

Yowza butting-powza, the Bull is back... a hero with a real set of horns and the bold balls to match.
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For the beginning of this bullie woolie tail see my prior blogs ~
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X-Serial Flash

New Bull in Town ~ Darius Speaks

TWENTY-NINE
I lower my head butting at fate until reason finally returns. With my body burning as if I’ve been branded over every inch of my hide, I spin and lope toward the nearby creek for a drink. Anything to cool my lust. Yep, I’ve been branded before. Just to test it out, find out what it’s like for my bull brethren. Let me tell you, I would have preferred a swarm of angry bees attacking that spot. Course, I erased the ugly black disfigurement during my next shift to human. Not an option for my bull buddies who aren’t shifters.

THIRTY
There aren’t many of us left, the bull men of Minotaur. We’re myths now. Not even particularly good inspiring myths to my way of thinking. A few us still roam the human world, reporting what we see and experience. Those of us who stay on Earth live in a land our kind claimed at the beginning of the industrial age, when all things magical were in decline. Our realm is shielded by high sharp mountains and by the joined power of our minds. We remain invisible to the human population, except to those who continue in the ancient mystery schools.
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Shapeshifter lovers, check out CAT NIP. It’s a free read by erotic romance author, Gem Sivad ~ http://gemsivad.wordpress.com ~ also, for the ongoing story, subscribe at ~ http://textnovel.com ~
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Plus, take a peek at COYOTE MOON by Pat Cunningham at ~ http://bookstrand.com/product-coyotemoon-14959-330.html ~ Pat’s book has received several top reviews.
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HAPPY SHAPESHIFTING THANKSGIVING

~ MAY ALL YOUR READING DREAMS COME TRUE ~

Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Author of ~

All Shades of Blue Paradise
Red Lioness Tamed
When a Good Angel Falls
Tangerine Carnal Dreams
Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis
Black Cat Beauty
Her Insatiable Dark Heroes
Stallion of Ash and Flame
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