The Unusual Suspects

I meant to write something new this week but time got away from me, so here's a continuation of last week's story. We'll see how I do next week, after I mow the lawn.
# # #
Before the man could leap or Shane could shoot, a thick cord of rough-skinned muscle wrapped around Shane’s waist and lifted him clear off the ground. With a sudden flip of the cord he found himself upside down and being shaken like a can of soda. He got off two wild shots before the gun flew from his hand.

The cord slid loose and dumped him on ground that lurched like the deck of a ship. He flailed for the knife in his boot, his backup weapon, but couldn’t even find his own body, let alone the hilt. His head spun like a dervish, and his gut seemed determined to climb up his throat and join it.

Somewhere an animal roared anxiously. Shane thought it might be the tiger.

Gradually the world, his brain and his stomach all settled back into their usual places. Shane groped across the dirt for his gun. A pair of muscular brown legs stepped into his ground-level sightline. A hand appeared and disappeared, taking his gun with it. Another set of legs joined the brown ones. These were gray, wrinkled at the knees, and thick around as fire hydrants. There were four of them.

“Thanks, Mindy,” the man said from somewhere above Shane’s head. “Better get inside before one of those asshole do-gooders sees you and tries to liberate you.”

The owner of the wrinkly legs let out a sound somewhere between a wheeze and a car horn. A trunk swept across Shane’s field of vision and slapped the lion-man on the ass. He raised his head enough to watch all of “Mindy” amble into the tent, and realized he’d just found one of the missing elephants. Not exactly Jumbo-sized, more on par with a Clydesdale. A youngster? Considering an adult could have crushed him, Shane figured it was better not to argue.

He elbowed most of his torso off the ground. The roars still shook the tent walls. They did indeed originate from the tiger. The lioness treated Shane to a filthy look that said, You got me up for this?

“Dammit.” The lion-man passed Shane’s gun to the midget elephant and hurried over to the tiger’s cage. “Now look what you’ve done,” he fired at Shane. “If he shits himself, you’re cleaning it up.”

Shane sat up gingerly. Now that he was all the way upright and his head had stopped spinning, he had a better view of the elephant, which had his gun snugly secured in its trunk. He couldn’t take on even that small of a pachyderm with only a knife, or anything less than an assault rifle, so the gun was likely to stay in its possession. The elephant also blocked the tent’s only exit. It fanned its ears at him and made what sounded to Shane like a questioning noise.

“Because he’s a hunter, that’s why.” The lion-shifter eased his arm into the tiger’s cage and scratched the agitated cat behind the ears. “Take it easy, Ramar,” he crooned to the tiger. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. The nasty human’s not going to hurt you. Before we can do anything to him, we have to tell Magritte,” he finished the elephant end of the conversation.

“You’re going to lose that arm,” Shane said.

The lion-man growled, in a deeper rumble than the tiger’s. “He wouldn’t dare. I outrank him and he knows it. There we go, that’s a good boy. See? I’m right here. Mindy’s right here. Everything’s okay.”

The tiger settled somewhat, although its tail continued to twitch and it continued to glare at Shane through the bars. The lioness huffed and lay back down.

“Now.” The lion-shifter pulled his miraculously intact and unmauled arm from the cage and turned to Shane. “Who are you after? Anyone in particular, or just any shifter you find?”

“Depends,” Shane said. “How many shifters do you have here?”

The man shut his jaw with a snap. Aha. So there was a family here. All lions? A killer pride? That would be new.

Beyond the tent, in the outside world, he caught another trumpeting call, unmistakably elephant. The smaller beast tossed the gun back to the shifter so she could respond. He caught the gun and pointed it inexpertly at Shane.

Shane weighed his chances. He’d yet to meet a shifter proficient in any kind of weapons beyond those provided by nature. Their instinct was to shift. He’d have to drop the gun for that, and Shane would have a chance. Not much of one with the elephant there, but more than if the rest of the pride showed up.

Suppose fortune favored him, and he got his gun back. What then? Shoot the young man in the head? Kill every lion he found here and hope he got the right one? It shouldn’t matter. They were shifters, and one was a murderer. But it did matter. For some reason it mattered a lot.

While he warred with a moral dilemma he’d never once considered before, the rest of the troupe arrived. The four roustabouts barreled into the tent, followed by an Indian couple, a twentyish kid in baggy pants, and another kid almost seven feet tall, at least two-thirds of it leg. They all made way for the final arrival, Magritte del Rio herself. She spotted Shane and stopped dead with an ominous hiss.

At the same time the small elephant suddenly shimmered and morphed into a plump, black and naked teenage girl. She darted behind the largest and beefiest of the roustabouts. From this safe haven she proceeded to make a series of faces at Shane.

“You said you’d got all of them,” Magritte said to the roustabouts. Her unblinking glare remained fixed to Shane.

“He’s not a protestor,” the lion-man said. He handed Shane’s gun to Magritte. “He’s a hunter.”

The close air inside the tent got closer, squeezed by sudden tension. The circus folk moved into a circle around him. By the looks on all their faces, he figured they didn’t plan on letting him out again.

Shane kept very still, not just out of caution. If he’d tried to stand with all the psychic zings shooting at him, he probably would have fallen over anyway. He didn’t even need the warnings from his gift. The young man and girl changing shape right in front of him were giveaways enough. Then there was the similarity of features between the girl and the man she hid behind, both in their faces and their wrinkled knees. One for the books, indeed.

“Let me make an educated guess,” he said. “You’re all shifters. Every one of you. Aren’t you?”

Another Story from the Vault

Here's another one I dug out of my files. Shane, a supernatural cop with psychic powers, tracks a killer shifter to his hideout in a traveling circus. But which one of the circus animals is his quarry? Or could there be more than one?

# # #

Shane stalked among the tents and vehicles and kept a cautious distance from any people he spotted. Let the protesters think he belonged to the circus, and the circus folk vice versa. As long as no one suspected he might be other than he seemed. Something his quarry was no doubt also thinking right now.

He paused behind a Job Johnny and let his psychic senses do a recon. Somewhere, probably in a cage, was an animal that wasn’t an animal. The claw marks on the victims had suggested a big cat, so a cage would make his job much easier. He moved his hand beneath his jacket, to the butt of his gun with its load of silver bullets, and waited for the zing of connection.

Instead he got hit with a tidal wave.

For a moment he nearly lost himself in psychic overload. Just in time he cut the connection, before it knocked him cold. He clung to the Job Johnny and struggled for breath until the echoes faded, leaving scrapes across his mind like nails across a blackboard.

Damn it to hell. More than one.

In his entire ten years of hunting shifters he’d only ever had to take on one at a time. It was usually the solitary ones that turned to killing humans in the first place. Shifters in groups policed themselves.

That blast hadn’t been any solo act. That was a whole damned orchestra. Could he be dealing with a family of rogues, all hiding out in a travelling circus? There would be one for the books.

One thing for sure, he didn’t dare use his psychic senses again. He shoved away from the Job Johnny and aimed for the nearest tent, with his hand still in his inner pocket, locked to the grip of his gun.

Fifteen minutes later he finally let it go. Fifteen minutes of furtive searching and dodging circus personnel hadn’t turned up his elusive killer shifter. Or animals of any kind, actual or not.

The sound of frustrated voices sent him ducking behind the wall of a tent. He peered around the edge. A group of protesters had been rounded up by four beefy roustabouts and were being herded toward del Rio’s RV. “But there have to be elephants!” a scrawny young man with a scraggly beard kept wailing. His T-shirted fellows all nodded.

The roustabouts remained unmoved. “Ain’t no elephants here.”

“But I heard one when we pulled up!”

“Maybe they hidin’.”

“Yeah, thass it. They hidin’. Lemme go check under my bed.” The men laughed and gave the activists a shove to activate them faster toward the office.

With all their backs to him, Shane slipped into the tent. And found his animals.

There were three of them, all cats. The lioness was sprawled out asleep on the floor of her cage. The tiger scrambled upright and pressed his muzzle against the bars. His lips pulled back as his nose took in the scent of stranger. The male lion gained his feet in one graceful bound. His ears flattened and he bared his fangs at Shane. The lion was not in a cage.

Three things happened at once. Shane experienced the psychic zing that told him he was in the presence of a shifter. His hand dove for his gun. The lion charged.

In the race between gun and attacking shifter, the lion came in first. It knocked him to the ground and pinned him with its weight. Its paw came down, deliberately, on the wrist of his gun hand. Eyes of green, not lion-yellow, glared murderously into his own. The hot breath that fanned Shane’s face smelled of fried eggs and pancakes.

The lion’s muzzle blurred into a youthful human face, brown-skinned and topped with messy blond hair that almost obscured the green eyes. Now a lithe, muscular but no longer leonine body pinned him to the dirt floor of the tent. The hostility in the shifter’s eyes gleamed unabated as he leaned in close to Shane’s face. “I know what you are,” he snarled, in a voice like the growl of a predator. “Hunter.”

“Not quite. But thanks for showing me what you are,” Shane said, and punched him. Lions posed a problem, but humans he could handle. The man lost his balance, just enough for Shane to throw him off. He delivered a kick to the shifter’s midsection that landed him on his naked ass with the breath knocked out of him. Before he could think to switch back to lion, Shane regained his feet and aimed his gun at him.

The tiger roared and circled in its cage. The lioness raised her head and blinked at them. Neither of them changed into anything else. Shane risked a quick scan. No zing. “Are you the only one?” he asked the lion-man.

“Bite me.”

Shane studied him. He’d taken the shifter for a kid at first, but at second look put his age at mid-twenties, not much younger than himself. That fit the profile. Shifters who went rogue were usually the young ones, feeling their power, and the older ones, feeling helpless as that power waned. This wouldn’t be the first big cat he’d had to put down in order to save human lives.

Pity. As a lion he’d been magnificent, all supple muscle with a thick blond mane. In human form he was just as beautiful, practically vibrating with passion and power. Instead of shooting, Shane took a moment to savor that beauty, and regret the need to end it. Such a waste.

Those eyes burned at him. He found himself groping for some excuse not to put that fire out. Of course. There were other shifters here. What if this one wasn’t the killer he hunted?

“You get three seconds,” he barked at the lion. “How many other shifters are hiding here?”

“Get fucked.”

Just shoot him already, practicality demanded. And still he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.

Just in time he spotted the telltale bunch of muscles in the lion-man’s thighs and knew he was preparing for a suicidal charge. No choice now. Shane took reluctant aim at that broad, naked chest.

Cat Girl Versus the Machine

Summer howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

The following flash scene is my little homage to YA. Hope you enjoy.
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Cat Girl Versus the Machine

Reluctantly, Satka thumbed off the tune she'd been movin' and groovin' to. Having arrived at the Peak's library, she stretched and yawned before entering. Holy heck, she'd already endured a long boring day at TP High. Thank the Great Feline summer vacation was a mere week away.

On instinct, Satka scanned her surroundings, satisfying her inner cat. As she shoved through the glass door, she wished for the umpteenth time that her parents weren't so ridiculously strict, old-fashioned... or whatever.

She yowled silently, and headed for the front desk to check in with Miss Kitty. Okay, she could understand their viewpoint, and that was a pain in the butt in and of itself. After being home-schooled, after educationally roaming free, her parents had given Satka a choice. Learn the social ways and be of service at the local highschool, or get a job. They'd suggested 'waitress'.

Satka flinched inside, still sore from the memory. Not that she dished waitressing, but she'd envisioned her life far differently. So instead of chasing down ancient technology relics, she'd spent the past school year observing social behavior, and looking for ways to fit in. What a dismal failure that was -- except in one regard. The shifter-supernatural kids who needed extra tutoring gravitated toward her, orbiting like planets around a sun.

Of course, she'd done her best to help them. And because of that she'd met Miss Kitty, Dante's main squeeze. A nova bright spot in her day, since they often discussed relic manuscripts and books, searching out ways to attain them.

In the meantime, she worked part-time at the library to impress the parents and 'cover' their covert activities. Together, she and Miss Kitty had already tracked down and recovered a copy of an ancient tome, reputed to have been read by Ed Leedskalnin, the infamous mystery man who had built Coral Castle in Florida -- he claimed in the same way the pyramids had been constructed.

"Satka." Miss Kitty beamed a smile at her from the head librarian's desk. "Am I glad you're here," she continued as Satka strolled toward her. "The computers are acting up like ornery kittens, and I don't have a clue. I've called for tech help, but they can't get here until tomorrow."

Given Satka's computer expertise as far as foiling the most malicious hackers -- which included neutralizing the NSA spy bots -- she regularly solved such problems on the quiet.

"Are you feeling well?" Miss Kitty asked, concern in her remarkable blue eyes. "It can wait if you need to go home."

"No. Yeah... just feeling sorry for myself," Satka mumbled. She always tried to be as truthful as possible with the sweet cat woman because of how well they got on, and the real respect she felt. "The teenage angst thing," she added.

"Isn't your sixteenth birthday coming up soon?" Miss Kitty smiled knowingly, then stood.

"Next week, Thursday." Satka had to crack a smile at the woman's enthusiasm. Her own was sadly lacking -- at the moment. "Why don't I check the computer system before the cyber gremlins take over?"

Her words barely left her mouth when Satka heard a whispered shout for assistance from the computer station area.

"Coming, Lawrence," Miss Kitty sang out, even as she headed toward the young lion shifter while motioning away one of the other assistants. Once beside him, she suggested, "Let's look for a book that will... uh..." Miss Kitty covered his eyes fast with one hand, then took hold of his arm encouraging him to rise.

"Porn gremlins," she mouthed to Satka as she passed, the eleven year old in tow. Knowing Lawrence was geek-inclined and studiously researched bio-chemistry applications, and given the filters she herself had installed... scat, the cyber scumbags were seriously attacking.

"Okay, everyone," Miss Kitty announced. "The computer system is on the fritz. Sign off. Now."

At the murmured grumbles, Satka typed in her code before seating herself. The screens flickered and blanked long enough to get everyone on their feet. "Hey, why does she get to stay?" Bastille, a werewolf teen demanded.

"Because SHE works here, mister," Miss Kitty authoritatively snapped.

Feeling Bastille's gaze sear her back, Satka twisted enough to meet his scowl. She gave him a quick feline smirk, then sat, her full attention on the screen that had blipped back to life. As she'd expected.

She frowned at the psychedelic swirls of color swiftly changing their patterns, not the usual viral hack that was for meow-certain. Without looking, Satka reached into her backpack retrieving the special thumbdrive she always kept close. In moments, her detection codes downloaded, then connected the library computer with her home unit.

Like a predator chasing the cleverest prey, Satka watched the screen rapidly alter, landscape scenes at first with rapidly disappearing lines of code. Someone at genius level took her for a long cyber ride around the world.

She tapped in a disruption command. Instantly, scenes of crowds from big cities worldwide, from rock concerts, from Mardi Gras type celebrations, from huge parades all over the globe -- given the appearance and attire of the people -- flashed faster and faster.

Half-mesmerized, Satka tapped again, loosing one of her tracker bots. Chaotic lines crisscrossed the screen, as if whoever was deeply confused. Then, close-up pictures of people appeared one by one, a cyber photo album. Again, it was global, seeming random portraits of every race -- man, woman and child.

An eerie chill slid up Satka's spine. She recognized a super intelligence when she witnessed it. But why this small library, why...

"You're good," a male voice praised.

Satka nearly jumped out of her skin, human and cat, at the words. She'd been so engrossed in discovering, tracking the super hacker, she'd ignored her cat's raised hackles.

"Yeah?" she muttered, refusing to look over her shoulder. After all, no way would Miss Kitty allow anyone dangerous near her. "Suggestions," she tossed instead.

At that very instant, a futuristic image of a wired brain filled the entire screen. The 3-D art rotated while pinpoints of light flickered and pathways connected, turning neon-radiant.

"It's alive," the male voice stated with a calm that belied his pure astonishment.

Satka knew his tone, because she felt exactly the same. Utter astonishment gripped her. Aware she leaned forward, focusing hard on the ever-changing image, Satka took hold of the mouse cursor, and clicked on the nearest pulsing pinpoint.

"Dave... where am I, Dave?" A slurred artificial voice erupted from the computer's speaker. "I'm lost... I'm lost..." The soft monotone cleared, becoming more understandable.

"2001: A Space Odyssey," the male voice spoke aloud what Satka thought. More chills chased down her inner cat tail. Her heart pounded in her throat.

"Are you Dave?" she asked, even as she thought, do I kill this cyber-sentient program? Is it organically bred and born... or a diabolical AI from deep black ops? Or... what?

An instant ticked by on the cosmic clock. "Are you Hal?" whoever he was asked from behind her.

"I am... I am... " Red flares of light shot from the brain. "I am not, not Dave... no, I am not known as Hal... why are the pyramids no longer in use?"

Staggered, Satka felt her mouth drop open. She whirled around to see the expression on whoever's face. Her breath sucked in quick, as if she ran as cat against a storm wind.

He was gorgeous, and she would have guessed his age to be around eighteen. Only she'd never laid eyes on him before.

"Zrevor," he introduced. "Friends call me Zrev." He paused, his gaze roaming her face. "I'm Lawrence's older brother... here for the summer."

The purring tone of his voice dropped an octave at least, and Satka positively sizzled inside. No time, she thought, jerking her gaze back to the screen. She had to determine... oh scat! The brain now sported a face. "Omygawd!" burst past her lips.

"Omygawd is right," Zrev seriously growled.

~~~~~~


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

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Of All The Things To Bring Home...

“Oh freaking *cof,cof* Lupa *cof,cof* hell.”  Cami Wilk pounded the pavement on her way to the vet.  “The *cof,cof* fucking *cof,cof* vet *cof,cof*”

The human doctor had already given her the bad news; there was nothing he could find that would be making her cough.  No virus, no asthma…just a cough.  He then made a joke about hoping it wasn’t kennel cough, considering how many of his patients had come in lately with the same problem.  Har Har.

“Kennel *cof,cof* fucking *cof,cof* cough *cof,cof*.”  Cami knew just where the damn bacteria had come from too, Mr. Muscles at last week’s outdoor free for all.  He looked like that bald dude on the cleaning supply bottle, but was missing more than a few screws.  He also had a shockingly small appendage for a wolf.  She’d given him a break though and listened to his come on spiel, at least until he’d coughed—in her face—flying phlegm and all.  She may not be an alpha like her sister Ziva, but hell if she would take ill-mannered; dickless, wanna be wolves to her bed.

“Whoa…”

“Uh *cof* fracking *cof,cof* watch *cof* out *cof,cof*.”  She whipped around, ready to face the moron not watching where he was going and knew her day would continue to go downhill.

“Well, hello.”

“*cof* hell *cof,cof* o *cof*.”  Of course, sex incarnate, and wearing a kilt.  He was rumored to be well filled out and had the stamina of an entire pack of wolves even though he was a cat, well, a lion which just might explain it all.  And she would be unlucky enough to run into him, literally, on the day she was on her way to be treated for…oh lupa.

“Names Leo…do I know you?” His soft hand reached her way in a friendly gesture, but she backed away, shaking her head as she went.  “Are you sure, you look familiar.”

“No *cof*.”  Cami shook her head again and waved what she hoped he read as goodbye.  She moved quickly down the street, turned the corner and ducked into the local java house.

Marissa eyed her suspiciously; as well she should, considering what a whack job she was acting like.  So a hot guy, in a freaking sage green plaid, reminiscent of the plains of his ancestors home recognized her from somewhere.  He probably didn’t see her at the orgy. Besides, why should she care?  She was an adult.

“What can I get you, Cami?”

“*cof* warm *cof* tea.”

“Caffinated or decaf?”

Cami shook her a little harder this time and tried again. “T *cof* t *cof*.”  Screw it.  She grabbed the nearest tea pack and waved it at Marissa.

“Ooh, ha, I thought…well, you know.  Sorry.  On the house and feel better.”

With a quick pour of hot water into a to-go cup and a wave she was sent on her way hoping the sex god had moved on.  She needed to get to the vet post haste, get the meds, then go home to bed…alone.

***

“Z,” Nick growled into his phone from the corner of the coffee house.  “You know your sister has kennel cough?  Woman, don’t yell at me if you aren’t holding a ruler…I don’t know where she got it, but…and you kiss me with that mouth, damn…sorry.  Just make sure not to get to close to her…what, I don’t want it.  Bye.”

He tucked his head down and went back to work on the laptop.  Damn good thing she rocked it in leather holding an assortment of toys and yeah, he loved her too.  Damn, she made him hard.

***

Six blocks and she thought she’d die.  Just die right here at the back of the clinic.  Who could cough this much and not keel over.  Cami knocked at the metal door and waited for the receptionist to come out.  Sure enough they had a shifter policy that you had to come in the back way so as not to send the naturals into a frenzy.  Fine with her, last thing she wanted was anyone she knew to see her.

“What type are you and what do you need?” The blonde haired, big eyed desk jockey asked. 

“Wo *cof* wo *cof*.”  Cami bent at the waist and placed her hands on her knees, willing the air to pass through her inflamed bronchia.

“Ah, Kennel cough then…you must be wolf.” The blonde laughed even though Cami was sure she was dying.  “Come on back, take this room.  The doctor will need you in your animal form.”

“O *cof* o *cof*…”

“Save your air, dear, you need it.”

Cami nodded her head in thanks even while picturing the pleasure she’d get biting the damn hoot owl in the ass.  Left alone in the room, she got down to the business of stripping and shifting then cringed as her cough now sounded like a freight train floating past her wolf’s vocal cords.

Cough after cough sent her into a slide along the linoleum floor.  While easy to clean they were ridiculously difficult for wolf claws and pads.  When the door to her exam room finally opened she found herself staring at the hairy legs of one well toned man.  Eyes higher and she could absolutely answer the age old question of what a Scot wears under his kilt.

Oh Lupa, a kilt.

“Ho there,” Sex incarnate or Leo said, pulling the soft plaid away from her head. “Now that’s a familiar sounding cough, in fact, I heard it on the street just this morning coming from the lips of the most beautiful woman.  Someone you know, maybe?”

Cami caught the glitter of amusement in his eye and decided that after a peek under the skirt, she could do worse.  Now all she had to do was explain away the…gah, Kennel *cof*.
~~~

Gee, this was me last week with the *cof,cof* but it wasn't kennel cough (I hope) haha and I sure didn't get to peek up a sexy lion shifters kilt...dang, I did it all wrong!  I'm better this week, now it's down to a *c,c* I'm hoping by next week it will all be gone!  Have a good one!

Serena

Santa Baby, Several Stars Away ~ Holiday Shapeshifter Romance

~ A Short Shapeshifter Erotic Romance for Christmas ~

Consumed by curiosity, Kaily gives herself to a mystery man for Christmas.

Will Dylan be able to resist her waiting naked, but gift-wrapped beneath his tree?


Excerpt ~


Chapter One:

Santa Baby, Waitin' Just for You

Rarely reckless, Kaily flung off the negligee she'd first thought to wear. It landed in a red ephemeral heap beside the tastefully trimmed Christmas tree.

So what if she'd just broken into his house...well, she hadn't exactly broken in...more like she spied on him until she found out where he hid the extra key...lodged in a crack of the frame above the door of the Victorian mansion he'd resurrected from certain crumbling death, and now obviously treasured.

There was only one thing Kaily could see amiss in the traditional holiday atmosphere he'd created with the help of the town's local historical club -- a garish red ribbon. The long sash had a simple bow attached to one end, and practically shone despite the low lighting.

Kaily stared at the unexpected invitation.

Certainly, the river of red ribbon didn't belong on the floor as a decoration, and she couldn't see anywhere else it belonged...except wrapped around her.

Since she was giving herself to him as a gift for Christmas...well, why not?

Wildly inspired, Kaily plucked up what looked to be about three yards of ribbon. After strategically emphasizing her full breasts, she arranged it around her naked body. Naked that is, except for her gold ankle bracelet, her 'I want to seduce you earrings'...and a whimsical pair of faux-fur trimmed santa boots.

Heck, Kaily reasoned, if he was gay he might just chuckle a ho-ho-ho, and turn it all into big ole joke...and she'd turn her bare tail, and escape as quick as possible. If he wasn't gay, but didn't want to take what she was offering, Kaily hoped he would have a holly jolly laugh at her expense as he politely showed her to the door.

It was all too true, her curiosity raged out of control even causing her sleepless nights. The object of her desire had sauntered into Kaily's small town last December. He'd paid cash on the spot for the dilapidated but proud old Victorian mansion, according to Becky Starks the one realtor.

With a vengeance, and despite the winter weather, Sexy Strange Man as she'd thought of him then had set about restoring the mansion. He'd also made certain to gain the good will of everyone in town...well, almost everyone.

Nessie Jones, the town's librarian, didn't like Dylan. Of course, Nessie didn't like anyone anyway, for whatever reason she could find. The love of her life was books and a mystery man she claimed to be married to that no one ever saw.

Behind Dylan's back, Nessie always curled her lip and wrinkled her nose, as if his deodorant had failed in its job...which might be case, since he always smelled smoky and impossibly virile to Kaily.

Even though she did try to avoid him, because of her obsession with knowing more about him why make herself look like a prize-trussed fool in front of everyone by groping him with questions still, they were always running into each other, and Kaily always became turned-on, and positively inebriated by his scent.

Okay yes, Kaily admitted, now she did look good and trussed up, the way the length of red ribbon wound around her body. At least, by what she could see. There was a slice of her reflection in the tall narrow mirror near the fireplace mantle.

With the bow dangling from one hand, Kaily wondered if she should position it over her well-furred pussy not completely covered by the ribbon. Or maybe, the large showy bow should nestle between the swells of her breasts...or be placed like a centerpiece above her ample-enough cleavage.

"Ooooh...Santa baby, waitin' just for you," she crooned like the song, then pursed her lips in an attempt to look sexy.
~~~~~~

Blurb:

Kaily has been consumed by curiosity ever since Dylan suddenly appears in her small town. Surreptitiously, she watches the mystery man restore a rundown Victorian mansion, all while his charm and sincerity gain him the good will of most everyone. This is especially true when he volunteers to become the annual Santa Claus for the children at the town's park.

The problem for Kaily: No one really knows anything about Dylan's past or where he came from. With her attraction to him growing day by day, she becomes a driven woman. On a desperate whim, she gives herself to him as a Christmas present. Will Dylan be able to resist her waiting naked, but gift-wrapped beneath his tree?
~~~~~~

Now Available for 99 cents at ~ SMASHWORDS & AMAZON

Coming Soon to other ebook vendors.

~~~~~~

Have the merriest of holidays!

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

The Enchantment of Silky

Tuesday greetings, Shapeshifter lovers. The following scene idea popped into my head, so I figured, why not write it for today’s blog? If only to amuse myself... though, I very much hope everyone enjoys it.

SunSilk and King Tut

With her mortgage paid for one more month, Silky snuggled deeper into her comfy bedding. Settling her head more comfortably on her pillows, she loosed a long sigh. Good God, she was exhausted. At least, all those extra hours at the zoo, helping to care for a pair of orphaned lion cubs, meant she could still scrape by, and keep the banker wolves from her door.

Like a bad reality show, her day passed before her mind’s eye. Other than caring for her ‘babies’ as she called the four-week old cubs, the only notable event during her ‘ball of confusion’ day... yep, she’d heard the Temptation’s oldie goldie tune on her way home... and, even now, the lyrics looped inside the tired mush that served as her brain...

“Evolution, revolution—it really doesn’t matter what the problem is ‘cause it’s all just a ball of confusion either way. And that’s where my life is these days. Hey, hey.”

The only notable event, she mentally repeated as she saw an image of his eyes... his great golden dark eyes watching her with an intensity that should have unnerved her, but didn’t. The magnificent male lion, always seemed to know when she arrived at the zoo, even though her schedule varied, or she filled in for other employees.

An apparent loner since he’d refused any and all companionship, Joey as he was called, had his own small lair. King Tut, as she called him, was a favorite with visitors because of his all-male majestic appearance, and because he willingly showed himself off, his posturing regal, his gaze wise, even sage-like.

If King Tut liked an individual or a group, he would approach offering a friendly expression while languidly shaking his mane. Often his tail would swing back and forth in a measured, but buoyant manner, the tassel like a royal proclamation of his thoughts.

However, if he didn’t like someone, he would turn away, his attitude one of complete dismissal. Often, he would lounge in the farthest corner on his rock throne as Silky thought of it, showing only his back. On more than one occasion, ‘friends of the zoo’ given a special tour, had been treated to an unmoving view of his back. Not even the lure of fresh raw meat could budge him.

Since it had become well known Joey always responded to her presence, Silky would be summoned. Sure enough, King Tut roused himself gloriously every time. Practically strutting, he’d focus his gaze on her and saunter as close as possible. He followed her every move, either with those deepest Africa eyes of his, or by matching her movements.

Silky had been accused so often of sneaking him treats, she’d actually begun slipping him pieces of her organic turkey jerky whenever the cameras went down, and she could get by with it. She’d slide it through the safe panel and he would take it from her in a careful, gentlemanly manner. As he crunched the jerky, a matter of moments, she’d watch him though the door’s window, then wait for him to launch upwards on his hind legs, so they could gaze at each other briefly.

King Tut, I do wish I could stroke that gorgeous fur of yours. Feeling drowsy, Silky yawned, rolled on her side and burrowed into the heavenly softness of her bed. She didn’t have much, but she’d indulged in purchasing high quality bedding, sheets and blankets.

She fell to her exhaustion quickly, yet his handsome lion face remained as she dropped off to sleep. Aware she dreamed, Silky found herself inside a temple chamber that reminded her of ancient Egypt. Sun-rinsed stone surrounded her, yet she could see beautiful palm trees outside beneath an azure sky that was so deep in color it looked unreal.

SunSilk, a man’s low voice addressed her. That is what I call you.

In that strange way of dreams King Tut appeared in the temple immediately morphing into a man... a man so breathtakingly handsome she could only stare. Plus, he only wore a long white loincloth. His golden-colored arms and legs were banded with wide, gem-studded bracelets.

More amazing, he gazed at her in the same lion-intense way as he approached and spoke to her. I must perform an enchantment, most beautiful of women, to make you mine.

The last thing Silky recalled was reaching out to touch his unbelievable mane of hair.

Feeling the warmth of the sun on her face, Silky blinked open her eyes. Something felt terribly different about her body as she stretched. Before she could halt herself she rolled back and forth amid her bed covers. Damn, she felt extra limber, and so wonderfully sleek... and, almost as if she had a tail, a long tail.

What the effing hell! Silky caught sight of paws. Her paws?

Her paws! Her furred legs. Her furry belly. Oh, God!

Whipping upwards in a frenzy of motion, she leapt off the bed. Landing on four feet... four feet! she raced toward the dressing mirror in the corner of her bedroom.

What the freaking fucking fricking... I look like a cat. Only she didn’t look like just a domestic cat with a tawny golden coat. She didn’t look like a full lioness, either. No, she’d been trapped somewhere between the two. Though, she did sport a lovely elegant tail.
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The Kougar’s news and mews ~

If you’d like sneak peak of my cover art for BRANDED BY THE TEXANS, come on by the Title Magic blog ~ http://titlemagic.blogspot.com ~
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HAPPY SHAPESHIFTING SPRING

Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Author of ~

All Shades of Blue Paradise
Red Lioness Tamed
When a Good Angel Falls ~ In Print
Tangerine Carnal Dreams
Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis ~ In Print
Black Cat Beauty
Her Insatiable Dark Heroes ~ In Print
Stallion of Ash and Flame ~ In Print
Branded by the Texans ~ Coming in August 2010 from Siren-BookStrand
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