White Fang spun to cyclone speed.

Pic from ~ayay.co.uk~

June howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Wow, the middle of the year already. Okay, here's an action flash scene, starring White Fang, my super wolf hero.

~~~~~~

White Fang spun to cyclone speed.

"Predator drone, you'll never see it coming," White Fang, super wolf, growled under his breath. Drily, he imitated the very words of the current, so-called leader of the free world.

"Yes, you will," he growly muttered, "if you have super hearing, then search it out with your super vision."

On night patrol, White Fang hovered high above Talbot's Peak territory. Given this was the second incursion of their airspace in as many days, White Fang hurled himself through the cool, dew-laden air like the infamous speeding bullet.

As he streaked toward the drone with the almost fifty foot wingspan, he noted the aircraft's trajectory -- directly over the Pleasure Club. White Fang figured since they'd been successful in keeping the black ops teams from gaining any foothold -- at blocking any satellite observation of the subterranean club -- that aerial surveillance, even a possible attack, had been ordered by the shadow-cabal elites.

Gritting his teeth with ferocious determination, White Fang increased his flight speed. Using his x-ray vision, he searched for the predator drone's weakest point. Yep, unholy blackhole, the craft was loaded for shooting every bear in existence -- including bear shifters.

Before he rammed both fists into the belly of the drone beast, and disabled it, White Fang took short moments to discover where the joystick operator was stationed. He was making a personal delivery.

WHAM! BAM! SLAM! White Fang crammed both fists inside the predator, then tore out it's wire innards with a furious glee he hadn't felt for a long time. His adrenaline spiked, hitting a personal all time high.

Enough with Big Brother Sky Net!

Fury ripped through him, and White Fang gnashed his emerging wolf canines. He flew a loop around the gliding aircraft as the engine whined and whirred pitifully. Deciding where to take hold of the drone, he seized the tail.

Swiftly gathering his inner force, White Fang zoomed toward the state of Colorado, the predator drone in tow. He hadn't planned on this retributive action, but so the righteous hell be it.

Mentally, he contacted Dante. 'Emergency transmission,' he mind-yelled to their alpha wolf leader.

'Ears up and alert. What is it?' Dante telepathed.

'Intercepted weaponized drone. Am returning it to point of origin. Suggest you alert the patrol team, and add reinforcements.'

'Got it, superman wolf. Dragon team on standby.'

White Fang let a tiny grin curl his lips for a split second. 'Suggest using full force flaming if another drone invades our airspace.'

'Will give that fiery directive,' Dante returned.

White Fang felt-heard the werewolf's tongue in cheek humor. 'Satellites under control?' he asked, knowing their cyber team -- including the AI assassin, Kalina -- practiced regularly to hack the satellite weapons' system deployed around the planet.

'We are secure. Don't let the big bad military lasers bite.'

'I'm doing the biting,' White Fang grrrr-ed back mentally.

'We'll a share a tall one when you get back, super wolf. Over.'

'Looking forward to a cool brew. Out.'

White Fang rumbled a thunderous growl. Savage with the need to protect Talbot's Peak from any and all threats, he put on another burst of superspeed. Satellite tracking pinged off the drone as he followed the Rocky Mountains south to his destination. The state of Colorado, and Norad.

That's where the pimply-faced, brain-arrested human sat in shock, blinking at his control screens. White Fang continued remote-viewing the room, observing a team of officers cluster around the drone operator.

But, let the shadow-hidden wimps track his location. Zero tolerance, you salad-decorated bozo-clowns, he mentally snarled at them. Like Texas, you don't mess with us supernatural Peakites.

Maybe -- yet unlikely White Fang admitted -- they'd get his message.

"Sir, super-class being, is closing in," one of the aides reported. "Still has drone. Orders, sir?"

"Fire at will. The drone has not been disarmed," the general barked, command obviously his second nature.

Seconds passed. "Cannot fire lasers, sir. Satellites have failed. Satellites have failed," the aid informed. Panic owned his voice.

"Destroy the fucking bastard with everything we've got," the general boomed.

"Computer system is failing," the *shriveled in his chair* drone operator squeaked. "Weapons will not respond...sir. They are offline."

"He is correct, sir," the dutiful aid reported.

"Offline!" the general stormed, beet-red in the face. "What the hell. Make something work. Gawdammit, make something work!"

White Fang shut down his remote viewing. With his blood fiercely pounding through his veins, he focused on the target he'd chosen. The massive air circulation duct had been hidden by a holo image that appeared to be part of the mountain.

Abruptly slowing, White Fang spun to cyclone speed. His clear-headed fury guided him as he slung the drone. Hanging in midair, he watched the metal-winged beast slam inside the duct.

Crunch! Crack! The predator drone crumpled, the metallic sounds screeching through the valley. Satisfaction did a victory dance inside White Fang.

"Don't mess with Talbot's Peak," he roared, and shot his fist toward the waning moon. With his words echoing around him, White Fang whirled, and soared for home.

Unmolested by any form of cyber warfare, he landed well away from the Pleasure Club proper, then moved toward one of many underground entrances.

"Tall cold one waitin' for ya, mate. Several in fact." Dugger greeted. "Quite a dog and pony show you put on there, super flyer man." Dugger threw open the door before White Fang could grip the handle.

"Show?" he asked, mystified at first. It dawned on White Fang as Dugger grinned like the Aussie dingo shifter he was. Dante's cyber crew had utilized satellite transmissions to put him on the flat-screen TVs inside various Pleasure Club establishments.

"Like one helluva super hero movie. The bloody best." Dugger secured the door, then clapped him on the back. "You flying at blur fucking speed over the Rockies, then delivering that special little gift. Quite a bit of cheering, I can tell ya, mate."

Dugger kept one hand on White Fang's back as they strode down the corridor. "Oh yeah, super wolf, that includes that sexy sheila goddess of yours. Gotta say, she has some impressive claws."

"Pasha's claws came out?" White Fang grinned. "She does care. That's rare for her."

"I'd say your sheila was about to transport herself, give you a helping, scratching paw. Or two."

"That's my cat goddess. If she'd arrived, the whole mountain might have caved in from her magickal, enraged might." White Fang had to let another smile slip out.

"Tell it like it is, mate. The scumbaggery shadow cabal ain't got nothin' on us. They'd be smart to get that embedded in their friggin' brain cells. What's left of them."

"Intelligence is not one of their attributes. Let's say." White Fang companionably threw an arm over Dugger's shoulders. "Score another one for our side."

~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Take me to your loins...

Art by Susan Sedon Boulet 
 
Late afternoon howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

A couple of weeks ago my hero, White Fang, a super wolf, and his heroine, Pasha, an Egyptian cat goddess, provided a nice surprise, the beginnings of a love scene. Link: "Mating dance or battle of the sexes?"
This week, Pasha gifted me with her side of their impassioned encounter.
Their story is yet to be fully written, and is titled, WHITE FANG, ACE WOLF REPORTER.
The following is unedited... but I hope you enjoy.

~~~~~~

Take me to your loins...

The inferno force of the universe spun through Pasha as she feverishly kissed White Fang, and gently caressed his back with her human claws. She'd known once their hungry passion for each other was loosed, it would burn her. No, firestorm through her soul as if she rose in the ashes of the phoenix -- a ritual she performed every seven years.
Her cat yowled savoring the extreme pleasure as White Fang straightened and drank in the sight of her. The vibrations of his gaze pummeled the swells of her breasts, delicious raw sensations that swirled over clit and wickedly teased her toes.
When White Fang stroked down her arms, then manacled her wrists, Pasha shivered inside. Predictably, her cat purred with fierce delight at his masculine power.
Let him be the victor in this first round of passion between them.
His wolfish kisses fell like a rainstorm on the parched need of her skin, swelling her breasts. Her nipples pushed against the confines of her gown, an ache of bliss all its own.
White Fang's savage need dizzied Pasha, and his canine growl at being denied the taste of her breasts by the gown between them, sent a wild rush of heat that only a woman could feel. For, the man-wolf desired her beyond else.
"Beast," she softly taunted. "What are you going to do to me now?"
His grip tightened on her wrists, a claiming Pasha felt like sparks of flame in her  belly, deep inside her pussy mound. "Your wolf beast," he growled, his lips on her skin, his hot pants tingling the sensitive flesh between her breasts.
"My wolf beast," she sultry-mewed, aware her cat heat saturated the air.
White Fang groaned a sharp growl, then nipped along the upper swell of her breast with his lips. He used his teeth to passionately pull her gown from one shoulder. Then, with the beastly finesse, he jerked the gown off her other shoulder, uncovering her trembling breasts.
His mouth caught hers hard, his kiss utter demand, his wolf lust ravishing her in a manner that shook Pasha to her cat woman core, and even made the goddess wanton.
Desperate for more, Pasha strained against White Fang's hold on her wrists. Raising to her tiptoes, she sensually thrust her sex against the carved bold tower that was his cock.
At the thought of White Fang lunging inside her pussy, taking her, Pasha shuddered, her softer flesh shivering against his super-powered physique. Goddess yes! Every round curve of her adored the pyramid-hard planes and angles of him.
In sacred truth, White Fang was not superior in male form than some of her past lovers. Yet, his complete handsomeness of face and body -- the driving, relentless strength of his muscles now pressed against her -- excited Pasha beyond measure of the starry cosmos.
That alone surprised her, a rarity at this time in her centuries long life. Pasha reveled in the emotion. She basked in the way his mouth covered hers, obviously wanting more of her nipping sultry kisses.
With one hand, White Fang gently yet firmly trapped her wrists behind her back. Bold as a pharaoh, he shoved her closer, forcing her breasts against the muscular shield that was his chest. 
Pasha yielded, mindlessly desiring White Fang's commanding way with her. His deep thorough kiss devoured her lips, even as his other hand squeezed, then caressed her ass.
Bast alive! Pasha would never admit it now, but she already felt like his lust slave.
A warning she ignored light-burst inside her mind. He was to be her love captive, help her defeat the black-hearted ninjas who had murdered her friend. Yet, it was she who succumbed.
"Pasha," he stud-panted against her mouth. His tongue traced her lips, and Pasha flamed with how much he carnally enjoyed the taste and shape of her.
Parting her lips, she sucked his tongue into the hollow of her mouth. After holding his large tongue hostage for moments, and savoring his man wolf taste, Pasha languidly sucked. Once she gained the upper paw, she rhythmically undulated his tongue.
White Fang clenched her ass possessively, yet didn't resist the erotic rule of her mouth. Instead, he groaned and fused their lips more tightly.
As his cock jutted with more strength against her belly, Pasha sprang upward. Despite the restriction of her gown, she wrapped her legs around his super-strong thighs. Immediately, he roughly stroked her ass, his hand swiftly sliding over the satin fabric.
Their lips tangled and battled for supremacy then. Pasha pyre-blazed inside, her desire fully unleashed as the carnal plundering of her mouth nearly overwhelmed her senses.
"No," she tore her lips from his, an unusual fear slicing up her middle like an enemy's claw.
"Yes," White Fang pursued. His hand stilled and cupped her ass, and he planted a tender kiss on her forehead.
"The depth of my desire--" Pasha panted losing her words, even as her breasts heaved ridiculously fast. "I wasn't prepared. I--"
White Fang touched kisses on her face as if he owned the infiniteness of time. With her sweltering pussy tight against the base of his thick cock, Pasha surrendered. She slightly rocked against him. "Super Wolf," she praised.
His lips trailed along her jaw, a lovely sensual torment. "My beautiful cat woman." White Fang velvety poured his words inside her ear. "You are the temptress I've dreamed about...dreamed about but could never envision as being this desirable, this irresistible..."
His soft desperate groan burned Pasha alive, as if he held her essence within the sacred flame of a temple ceremony. "Words fail," he whispered against her throbbing pulse. 
He pressed his mouth against her pulse point. The long kiss on her neck sang beautifully through Pasha. Ferocious with need, she whispered, "Yes...yes, own me. Take me to your loins."
White Fang's hand deserted her ass, slid over her bared back, then seized the length of her hair. He tugged with lust's frenzy, his lips seeking the taste of her breasts.
Pasha moaned and arched her back, offering him her aching, begging nipples.

~~~~~~


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

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Flashback ~ White Fang's Heroine

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Due to circumstances, I couldn't pen a flash scene for today. So, here's a flashback scene in the early days of Talbot's Peak which stars Pasha, Egyptian cat goddess. This is now Chapter Two of my WIP: White Fang, Ace Wolf Reporter.
~~~~~~

Chapter Two ~ Z’Pasha of Dendera  

Z’Pasha stepped back into the concealment of the shadow she had created. Prepared to swiftly transport herself with magick, she observed the Super Wolf leap over the deck rail.

After quickly looking around, he focused like a hunting dog on a trail. Because he would remain unaware of her existence, Z’Pasha watched him flash inside the ethers. With her feline-superior gaze, she followed the streaming lines of his frequency.

Once the lines dimmed, she dissolved her shadow. As she raised her arms skyward, she heard, “Mommy, mommy, I smell a cat. Let’s go chase ”

“No! Marilyn, stop that. If you rip one more dress-- ”

“But, mommy, aren’t we supposed to chase cats? Please-- ”

“Not here! Later we’ll go for long run in the woods. Marilyn, I see fur...”

Unconcerned about the werewolf population in Talbot’s Peak, Z’Pasha smiled, something she hadn’t done for months. After briefly remembering her own rambunctious shifter kitten-hood, she concentrated.

Using her arrowed fingertips as a point of contact with the Ka-Ba, she transitioned into her smoke body. Aware various types magick were being practiced, Z’Pasha hid herself, then traveled in the Super Wolf’s wake.

She required all the knowledge she could gather about White Fang, and the reason why the Syxxrion Shifter had arrived in the isolated Montana town. Was he possible friend or foe?

Two days ago, upon her own arrival, Z’Pasha had cast her essence like a star field above Talbot’s Peak, and the surrounding area. With the All-seeing Eye of her spirit, she’d found the elusive Tiger Yakuza leader, Shere Khan. His stronghold proved to be near a small river tributary, hidden within massive outcropping of rock.

Once she’d eliminated any trace of herself above his territory, Z’Pasha scanned the energy signatures of the town’s residents. Wisdom demanded she identify the so called movers and shakers, and any being of consequence to her.

Destroying the life force of two Tiger Ninjas, in an act of retaliation, would be no small task, even with her goddess powers. However, outrage boiled Z’Pasha’s blood. While sadness coiled around her heart like a serpent, squeezing...squeezing...always squeezing.

The bloody and brutal shredding of her human friend was not to be tolerated. Larissa had done nothing to harm the Yakuza. In the wrong place at the wrong time, she had offered help to a man near death.

How could Larissa, as a mere human, have known the beaten man’s evil far surpassed the criminal activities of Shere Khan’s empire? Z’Pasha did not fault the Ninjas for ending the life of a serial rapist, one who also tortured his victims.

No, if the one with a coward’s entrails, and the cunning brain of crocodile, had attempted the abduction of her niece, as he did Shere Khan’s, her own claws would have ribboned his flesh without regret.

Yet, why end the life of an innocent?

After using their formidable skills to pummel the psychopathic human into a grisly state, the two tiger shapeshifters watched as death claimed him slowly, and with excruciating pain. Seeing the wretched man in the alleyway, Larissa had attempted to heal him with the natural ability bestowed on her by the Sacred. With not so much as a growl of warning, the Tiger Ninjas attacked her like enraged dervishes.

Z’Pasha shivered at the horrific memories, and nearly lost the Super Wolf’s vibratory path. Even now, Larissa slept in the divine embrace of restoration, currently lost to her.

Bastet’s favor remained, however. The path still shone slightly, and Z’Pasha gave silent thanks to her grandmother. About ten minutes behind the Super Wolf, she watched as he emerged from a cave entrance in his wolf form, a fluffy cat shifter beside him.

Z’Pasha journeyed with the pair, careful to hover high and stay behind them. White Fang’s senses swept the forest before him, his protective manner obvious. As a Syxxrion, if he had loosed his sensory powers in her direction, a swift departure would be needed. He would detect her presence instantly.

The Syxxrion were an intergalactic race of wolf shapeshifters, and inhabited many worlds. Why they kept a presence on Earth, other than the primeval beauty of the planet, no one in her realm knew.

Z’Pasha watched the impressive drive of White Fang’s haunches from her vantage point. His muscle-rippling strength as he loped and bounded over fallen logs caused a sudden yearning to burst through her, blazing as the Egyptian sun at midday. 

As wolf, White Fang was a magnificently virile beast from the tip of his noble muzzle to the end of his silver-gray tail. The proud, yet measured carriage of his tail revealed his lone alpha nature.

Carnal desire slid up her middle like a knife, stunning Z’Pasha.

Although, she possessed a passionate disposition, this intensity was rare. Since the death of Larissa, lusty liaisons had been nonexistent so fierce did Z’Pasha want righteous revenge.

As she continued observing White Fang, his great strength brought to mind the early days of Egypt. During this reign of the goddesses, spirit and technology had been combined in a balance that benefitted all.

With the rise of corruption and the Draconian elite, there had been a gradual decline into a lesser culture. The eventual death of real magic for those outside the mystery schools, caused her kind to create enclaves, now curtained by protective mists.

Goddess Divine, how Z’Pasha missed the resplendent and festive sporting games. Once two of the pyramids had been completed, the competitors leaped or raced over them.

Unbidden, images of White Fang as both man and wolf competing in the Royal Sun Games entered her mind. Her fantasy refused to leave easily, despite the discipline Z’Pasha practiced to maintain the viability of her magick.

Dismissing the raw fire of her loins, she stabilized her lighter-than-air form. White Fang twisted, barely able to shove through a house’s pet door. Kitty Collins, that was the name on the mailbox.

Jealousy did not usually afflict  Z’Pasha. Staggered by her sudden reaction, she felt the sharp pangs grow like grapevines, as White Fang spoke with Kitty inside her home, both of them now shifted to human.

Many men, of every race, had fallen at Z’Pasha’s feet, and she had lustily basked in the extreme pleasures they offered. On occasion, to gain her own ends, she seduced men, especially shapeshifters the ability natural to her as a feline goddess.

As Z’Pasha listened to White Fang’s chivalrous attention to Kitty, she wondered how pleasurable would it be to gain his assistance in her quest for vengeance?

Having briefly witnessed the Super Wolf’s handsome attributes as a man, obviously his seduction would be no hardship. Inspired by the right woman, Z’Pasha instinctively knew the Syxxrion would provide a passion and pleasure that enslaved the carnal senses.
~~~~~~

 
Have a Magickal Season of Thanksgiving... 

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

In the Beginning... White Fang Khent

Blue Moon howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Harken ye back to the beginning of our fair shapeshifter town, Talbot's Peak. Originally taken over by a werewolf pack, the Peak has come a long way, baby cub. Heck, we now have a squirrel shifter as the Mayor.

White Fang, Ace Wolf Reporter, was my first... dare I call him a mere character? No, let's say my super wolf starred in the first Talbot's Peak flash scene I wrote. Recently, I changed the spelling of his last name to Khent instead of Kent, given any trademark issue that might arise.

So, I have to get up earlier than usual, and I'm already darn worn out. Awhile back I began writing White Fang and Pasha's erotic love story. It's about a third done. Anyway, here's the first chapter, a revised version of my original flash scene.

~~~~~~

Chapter One ~ White Fang Khent  

Talbot’s Peak, Montana

White Fang Khent seated himself before the used desktop computer he’d picked up in town, not four hours ago. As an instant upgrade, he slid a formless silicon device into the USB port. Brought from his home planet, some four light years away, the adaptive technology did his bidding.

With urgency eating at his gut, he positioned his chair, then removed the specialized pair of eyeglasses he often wore while in public. They helped disguise the odd intensity of his eyes and changed the blue coloring to a shade Earth humans didn’t question him about.

In no time, White Fang scanned the online version of the town’s newspaper that had recently been taken over by a werewolf pack. Great Caesar’s Ghostwolf! It was true.

Leaning forward, he re-read to make certain. Lykouz, he had no choice. The brazen pack’s ill-considered actions were a danger to all wolfkind. Especially his wolfkind.

There would have been no problem if the pack had written their features and articles as ‘tongue in slavering cheek’. As werewolf fantasy.

Truth, White Fang found it damn hell refreshing. But, with the full humans in possession of devastating fire power and still in fear of anything paranormal--well snapping fangs, he wondered if this younger generation had ever seen the horrific Old West photos of slaughtered wolves. Not to howl about the current-day helicopter hunting atrocities.

They probably hadn’t witnessed what he had, the scarecrow remains of several scorched-to-the-ground shapeshifter towns. Not all the residents had been lucky enough to escape with only singed smoking tails. No, it appeared as though, this werewolf pack most likely thought the government’s ghost-kill squads were only nasty rumors.

Nov 12, 2010 Guts and Butts, 2nd edition...

    Roadkill
    Here's wishing Kitty ~Cat~ Collins her very own fond farewell. Story and photo's on page one.

White Fang figured his brow looked like an aerial view of the Grand Canyon as he focused on the obituary, and frowned. Absently lifting his mug of steaming joe, he almost snarled into it. Instead he took a sniff, then swallowed down a healthy swig, or unhealthy, depending on which science study you chose to believe. With his physiology it didn’t matter.

“Not subtle enough,” he growl-muttered. Not at all.

White Fang set his mug down with a decided clank, but not hard enough to splash his window-on-the-world equipment. Lykouz, he remembered the good old days when coffee stains were a journalist’s badge of honor.

What he wouldn’t give for just a pen and pad at times. Even now, his fingers itched to bang out a story on his old typewriter. He threw a fond glance at the working relic before blinking and staring at the screen again.

He’d have to investigate this Kitty Collins, and obviously double quick. That is, before he sought employment as a Guts and Butts Gazette crime reporter.

It was one matter if this Collins, woman or catwoman, deserved to be entrail-splattered roadkill. It was a whole other matter if she was a victim of prejudice or, worse, targeted as an unwanted rival by one of the werewolf bitches in heat for a mate.

White Fang arched his brows, then they took a leap for the ceiling as he read Maggie Novak’s celebrity gossip column. Howling about bitches ready to kill...

Good news, girls – Damien, Alpha of the Hancock pack, informs me his son Devon is on the prowl for a mate. Devon’s just out of grad school and likes fresh-killed elk and long hunts in the moonlight. He’s not a cat fancier, however, so no felines need apply. Wag those tails, ladies – the line forms now!

So, was this steak-of-his-daddy’s eye, this Devon really what he appeared to be? Or, was he a closet cat fancier? Perhaps, even a past fancier of Kitty ~Cat~ Collins? Lykouz knows, as a reporter searching out leads, he’d prowled many a freaky-sex lair party filled with wolf grad students.

Taking another long swallow of his joe, White Fang ignored the yip-yip tones of his apartment’s doorbell. When he’d rented the place three days ago, his landlady’s yellow-gleaming gaze had alerted on his lap package. He’d felt like prime eats. To his private amusement, Tina Havulik had licked her lips as if they were wolfen chops.

Already, Toothsome Tina, as he thought of her, had invited herself in for coffee and bone meal biscuits on two occasions. White Fang figured he gained a couple ace hands, though. His landlady was a raging gossip queen, which gave him a hiked leg up on the inner workings of the town.

It was also an opportunity to practice the role he played in public. He’d pretended to be the shifter geek klutz of the century, thus fending off her amorous advances without offending her bitch sensibilities.

At least, so far, she hadn’t gone rabid werewolf and lunged for his defenseless dick while snapping her formidable jaws. Unlike her wolf breed, he had no desire to harm her or make her into instant roadkill.

White Fang owned no real worry for his physical well being. With one aimed fist between her eyes, he could knock Toothsome Tina out cold and leave her with a nasty headache for about a week’s time.

Glad his landlady had decided to quit leaning on the doorbell, White Fang drained his mug, and set it aside. A low growl vibrated his throat. His gaze narrowed on Mooney McMahon’s sports column.

The city council did not approve the request to allow roller derby tournaments at the city’s recreational facilities, so next week’s bone crusher will be held at the Roller Rama again, assuming we can get old Mrs. Fuddy-Duddy to drop the cease and desist charges.

Was this the same Mooney ‘wanna rip your throat out’ werewolf he’d tangled with in an LA sports bar? Mooney--not a lookalike for George Clooney--had gone neon-green eyed with jealousy over the attention his date lavished on White Fang.

While the woman had been a sweet piece of blonde tail, the only interest he’d had in her was if she could tell him the whereabout of her ex-boyfriend. The Dire wolf biker had gruesomely gnawed through two patrol cars, officers included.

Rumor had it the cops were on the take and shot at bikers for sport. Rumor had proven to be true. White Fang’s news story in the internationally distributed, Shapeshifter Globe Trotter, had saved the Dire wolf’s enormous furry hide from extinction.

Leaning back, White Fang stretched out the kinks from last night’s shift. He’d roamed the back streets, getting a feel for the Talbot’s Peak. Staying out of nose range, he’d watched werewolves hightail it for the surrounding forest. Most of them had been mated pairs.

Bringing the town’s directory up on screen, he typed in a search for Katrina Collins. There it was, address and phone number. Grabbing his cell, he thumbed in the number. No answer, just a cheery voice mail greeting.

With action now required, White Fang rose and strode toward his second floor deck. Once outside, he glanced around, then jumped over the rail. An instant later he blurred to super speed.  

~~~~~~

 
Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

White Fang ~ A Shapeshifter Memorial

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

I wondered how one of our own in Talbot's Peak would view Memorial Day. White Fang, my super wolf hero, spoke to me for this flash scene.
~~~~~~

White Fang ~ A Shapeshifter Memorial

The wildness of the tall-tree forest raced through him as White Fang loped along the trail -- still damp and slick from the lightning storm that had blown through during the night hours.

White Fang kept his pace steady, sure-footed. He breathed in the new-growth pine, springtime's chlorophyl-rich leaves, and the blood-tangy scent of foraging creatures.

The afternoon winds kissed his muzzle, stroked his fur, then slipped over his tail. Feeling the not-to-be-ignored tug of his soul, he'd decided on this small pilgrimage to the isolated mountain lookout he favored most, on what American humans called Memorial Day.

Even though, Earth was not his native planet, White Fang had gradually developed a fondness for Mother Earth. Between his investigations as a crime reporter, he'd explored her splendid untamed terrains. Now, as his paws struck her fecund surface, Gaia's varied harmonies, her forest song flowed through him, fierce as a jolt of electricity.

Seeing the familiar tower of rock, the gateway to his lookout cathedral, White Fang slowed his gait. Sunlight and shadow played over the shades of gray, and he took moments to appreciate nature's beauty.

Once he stood on the rock shelf overlooking the monumental grandeur of the valley, White Fang slowly shifted to his human form. The need to honor the fallen warriors and warrioresses of his homeworld burned like a blazing torch inside him.

The wolven shapeshifters who had bravely battled, and given their lives to protect their families, their kind, their world... his world, lived again for long moments before his mind's eye. He'd witnessed every battle as part of his education, his warrior training.

Some of the fallen had been his ancestors, and White Fang accessed his genetic memories. Opening his arms wide, he offered his sacred heart, his eternal gratitude.

Once the conflicts, the warfare had ended on his home planet, the gift of physical immortality had been bestowed by the creator gods and goddesses. Currently, most of the fallen had incarnated, becoming guardians of the wolven people.

White Fang swept his gaze over the magnificent rock face of the mountainside. After listening to the deep trombone tones of the ancient stone, he recalled each and every shapeshifter he'd known, or knew of, who had sacrificed their lives in battle. Had died for the sake of their kind, to protect their family, their pack, their mate -- to save all those they loved.

As their images appeared, he honored each one of them. Finally lowering his arms, White Fang stood in the stillness, the silence -- that which was truth and goodness and universal justice.

The sun's rays embraced him, streamed inside him, a sacred and powerful guiding light. With his eyes still closed, White Fang morphed to his wolven self.

He sat on his haunches, quietly taking in the spectacular wonders around him. Once the shadows lengthened, and the mountain peak claimed the sun, he trotted toward the trail that would take him home to Pasha, the cat goddess he loved.
 
Home, to Talbot's Peak.
~~~~~~

 
Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Don't step on White Fang's cape...

  
Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

I've been putting together a cast list of all my Talbot's Peak characters. No easy feat I discovered. I did have a names' list of my heroines and heroes to start with, one that I began awhile back for the sake of not duplicating names, but it was nowhere complete. Yep, there were big ole gaps.

So, as I described at my blog, Kougar Kisses, the project turned into a sort-of Medusa like operation as I began searching through all of my prior flash-scene posts. Oh, I had my main characters, and last year's heroines and heroes all lined up... but, dang, three days of intense work, and I'm still not completely finished. Close, but no cigar... as they say.

One dilemma I've come face to face with is this whole BIG BULLY MEDIA copyright/trademark thing going on, whereupon one innocent infraction could get you unmercifully pounced on, and devoured by the legal system. I won't expound any further on that now.

Suffice it say, I'm faced with changing my super wolf's name from White Fang Kent to White Fang [something else]... because, hey, it too closely resembles Super Man's alter ego, Clark Kent. But, damn, if I can come up with suitable alternative.

Thus, today's flash scene...
~~~~~~

Don't step on White Fang's cape...

White Fang snuck a peek inside Nick's office before entering, instinctive since the smell of Ziva and Nick's recent mating romp still hung heavy in the air. That, and the odor of heated wood.

Grinning to himself, White Fang pushed open the door. "Boss, what's on your mind?"

"Have a seat, ace reporter."

The werewolf alpha editor of the Guts and Butts Gazette snarled the words, his tone absent of any snideness however. He waved an impatient hand toward the chair, then swiped his hair as if he carried the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. Certainly, he carried the weight and well-being of Talbot's Peak on his shoulders.

White Fang perched on the sturdy wooden chair, a relic of a forties newsroom, and leaned forward. "I'm seated," he prompted. "Looks like you got a case of fleas, boss. Couldn't be you're about to get on my case. I just turned in my latest story."

"Yeah-yeah, has nothing to do with your job performance. Outstanding as normal. Got quite a devoted following, Kent." Nick folded his hands behind his head, and square-eyed him. "But, I'll save us a dance around each other, and get down to brass tacks."

"You're not my type as a dance partner," White Fang drily quipped, and kept his smile to himself.

"Why would I be?" Nick snapped. "That cat shifter femme fatale of yours has more curves than Route 66." Nick scowled, and lifted his lip.

"Problem?"

"Take off those damn glasses, will ya? And don't raise your eyebrows at me like I got a story you can pry outta me, Kent... another life, another time. Enough said."

"Got it, boss." White Fang slipped his horn-rimmed glasses off, pocketing them. "May I assume you didn't call me in here to hand out a plum assignment?"

"Nope." Nick rocked forward, his gaze serious as if prey crossed his path. "We all know around here, you're some sort of super wolf."

White Fang hesitated only a moment. "Right, then, it's on the table. No use trying to keep my true identity a secret in this 'where the shapeshifter world turns' town. Except from the humans, of course."

"Yeah, the humans. And those who keep their noses buried in their butt holes. Besides," Nick continued in a surly voice, "using the name, Kent, is a dead giveaway...doncha think?"

"A tip of the reporter's fedora to Clark Kent, and admittedly, a private amusement on my part. Didn't hurt as a byline either, with my past newspaper gigs."

White Fang flashed a toothy grin just to dig into Nick's hide a bit. The name had garnered him much needed attention as a virgin reporter on the scene. Then, his investigative journalism into crime had done the rest, elevating his readership faster than a speeding bullet.

"Yeah-yeah, dug into your past. You got the best credentials I ever seen, uh... Kent. Gotta quit calling you that. Scat." Nick twisted, and leaped from his chair, not disguising his werewolf strength and speed.

"Look," he growled, pacing behind his desk. "It's a copyright or trademark thing. Hate those scat-bloated corporate... never mind. The point is I can't afford trouble..." Nick let his words hang, even as he whirled around, his gaze pinning White Fang.

Ignoring the alpha glint in the werewolf's eyes, White Fang eased himself from the chair, and stood asserting his own dominant nature. After a moment, he delivered his words in a calm measured tone. "You want me to change my byline. Right?"

"It's not your real handle... why not?" Nick's eyes yellowed to feral, his frustration driving him.

White Fang didn't bother with what would be an obvious answer. He let his steely silence do the talking.

Nick growled, an abrupt harsh sound. He spun around, stalking to his office window. "I got that pea-parrot assistant of mine poking my ass... reminding me every friggin' day we could get sued. Worse, Talbot's Peak doesn't need this kind of national spotlight."

White Fang absorbed Nick's words, while weighing his options. Circumstances demanded he remain in Talbot's Peak. Not only for the sake of his wolfkind, but to continue protecting those he'd come to care for in this haven for shifters and other supernaturals.

He certainly wasn't leaving without Pasha by his side, and he'd allied himself with Dante. That was not a promise he took lightly, despite the understanding between them that the future could alter their arrangement.

White Fang growled silently. "Right, boss. We don't need a barking army of legal beagles."

The tenseness of Nick's stance lessened, and he glanced over his shoulder. "Got an idea what name you want to use instead?"

His usual quickness of thought deserted him, and White Fang possessed not a clue what byline would keep his global readership. Of course, he could explain a change to his Peak readers easy enough.

"No, nothing comes to mind," he rumbled, even as he realized he'd become quite fond of the earth name, White Fang Kent -- especially the way Pasha sultry-purred it during their intimate times together.

"Any suggestions, boss?" White Fang arched his brows in the way he knew put a burr under Nick's tail.

"Go to the library," Nick groused. "Look in on one of those baby names books. Or, hell, go surfing on the world wide web."

"I'll grab a telephone book on the way out. More private. No nano spy cameras inside those yet."

After a growly harumph and sharp intake of breath, Nick faced White Fang. "Sorry, ex-Kent. You know how the bitten ball bounces."

"Your balls are going to bounce, lover, after I fang them," Ziva shouted through the door. "You forgot our appointment."

"Leaving." White Fang smirked, then pivoted toward the door.

"I need that name by tomorrow," Nick threw after him.

"Don't step on White Fang's cape... boss."

After a polite nod to Ziva, White Fang strode for the outside door. He couldn't miss the large phone book Penelope, the pea-parrot dominatrix, held out to him. Nor could he miss her all-knowing smile.

"I wouldn't mind stepping on your cape... no, not at all," she throatily crooned as he took hold of the phone book.  

~~~~~~

 
~ Have a Magickal Shapeshifting Week ~ 

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Underdog To Save the Day, Starring White Fang

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Thank You! To everyone who stopped by during the Sexy Summer Blog Hop. And congratulations to all the winners.

So, yesterday I unexpectedly heard the lyrics of the theme song for Underdog, a Saturday morning cartoon that was one of my favorites as a youngster. Thus, this flash scene was born in my fertile imagination. Hope you enjoy and it is X-Rated.
~~~~~~

Underdog To Save the Day, Starring White Fang

Pasha leaned back against the large alabaster column, the coolness pleasing to the bare flesh of her back in this summer heat. She gazed skyward then giggled, a rare occurrence for her.

To contain her laughter, Pasha covered her mouth. She had no intention of missing one moment of White Fang, her super wolf lover, wearing the Underdog costume he'd purchased just to entertain her.

One morning he'd caught her enjoying the silly cartoon character on that internet phenomenon called YouTube. Pasha had been researching superheroes in the mortal world to gain more insight. After all, being a goddess had its limitations when it came to such things.

Somehow she'd cyber-stumbled upon the noble canine with his cape, ferocious snarl and steely gaze. Fascinated, and tickled by some of the similarities to her White Fang, she'd begun studying what was called a Saturday morning cartoon.

As she watched White Fang dramatically straighten his arms high above her, Pasha smothered her giggles. He leaped into flight from the rock ledge of the enormous, natural grotto. His Underdog cape, woefully undersized, billowed behind him as he flew toward her through the glimmering dusk sky.

White Fang, muffled by the mask's muzzle, announced in his baritone voice, "There's no need to fear, Underdog is here."

"Underdog...Underdog," Pasha cried out, imitating a needy heroine. She hadn't been able to quite convince herself to play the part of Sweet Polly Purebred, TV reporter, and the female who put the besotted glint in the caped canine's eye.

When the cartoon's theme music unexpectedly began, Pasha almost jumped like a scaredy-cat, nearly embarrassing herself. Above her, White Fang exaggerated his circling flight in a comical way.

Gradually, he descended singing, "When criminals in this world appear, and break the laws that they should fear, and frighten all who see or hear, the cry goes up both far and near for..."

Understanding her cue, Pasha smiled, then shouted in a singing voice, "Underdog. Underdog. Underdog. Underdog."

Adding to his role, White Fang punched the air with his fist. Soaring, he sang, "Speed of lightning, roar of thunder, fighting all who rob or plunder..."

"Underdog. Underdog. Oh save me, Underdog. Only you can save me."

Pasha panted at the sight of her canine superhero. Only White Fang could save her with the ferocity and finesse of his carnal passions. To keep herself steady, Pasha reached behind her clinging to the column.

After a midair spin that caused a lovely whirlwind around her, White Fang landed and stood about twenty feet before her. He ripped off the mask, tossing it aside.

"When in this world the headlines read," he intoned in his deep alpha voice. "Of those who's hearts are filled with greed." He moved toward her, his gaze piercing her like an obsidian blade. "And rob and steal from those in need." For moments, their gazes clashed, lightning desire battling lightning need -- then their gazes melted into each other. "To right this wrong with blinding speed goes..."

"Underdog. Underdog. Underdog. Underdog, oh please, save me," she whispered, no air left her in her lungs.

White Fang halted, his mouth mere inches from her own. His virile scent wrapped around her as tangible as a cloak, and intoxicated her like the most potent wine.

"Speed of lightning, roar of thunder...fighting all who rob or plunder," he rasped in a growl, his lips hovering above hers. "What brainless, bumbling fool dares threaten you?"

"An enemy only you can save me from...with a kiss."

"Only a kiss?"

White Fang pressed her against the column, his body deliciously scorching hers. He captured her wrists inside his super strong hands yet his touch remained deceptively gentle.

"Please." Her lips brushed against his. "Do whatever you need to do...to save me, superhero."

Pasha cat-moaned with her desire as White Fang pressed closer, flattening her breasts against his granite-hard chest. He rumbled a wolfish groan, and their lips seized each other.

Sensually they explored the shape and texture of each other's mouths. Then he kissed her hard.

The unrelenting crush of his lips shivered fire through Pasha, and caused her nipples to beg for his touch. Commanding her surrender, White Fang tightened his grip on her wrists.

Pasha's legs weakened, a response only he could draw from her. With a rough growl, White Fang broke his mouth from hers. He nipped kisses on her swollen lips, teasing.

Yet, his lips didn't persuade. He tasted her mouth with the savageness of his passion. Pasha arched against him, thrusting her mound against the super strength of his rigid cock.

The thin fabric of her shift and White Fang's costume tights did little to lessen the extreme heat of his shaft. Wanton from his punishing kisses, and the feel of him, Pasha braced herself against the column, wrapping her legs around his hips.

As she embraced the pillar that was his manhood with her sex lips, and rubbed, White Fang groaned vibrating her mouth. "Pasha," he poured in her ear.

He released her wrists, his hands caressing up her arms. "I want you beneath me in our bed."

Pasha didn't argue despite her wildness to mate with him here and now. White Fang's tone had been demanding, dominating.

"Yes, super dog."
~~~~~~

Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side...

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
~~~~~~

Nude Super Dude to the Rescue

Tuesday, lunar eclipse howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers. I’m worn to a frazzle, so without further adieu...
~~~~~~

Nude Super Dude to the Rescue

White Fang loped up the steep rocky ground, feeling the power of his wolfen body. The lunar eclipse energies fired his blood, and as he ran, he let his thoughts wander.

These days his thoughts rarely strayed far from Pasha. Yet, discipline took over, and White Fang tuned into the source energies around him. Nature always spoke. Scents on the wind. The rustling of the other creatures. Trees singing to one another. The vibrations of the Mother herself.

White Fang gathered it all in.

He’d been careful to remain out of Shere Khan’s territory so he could race wild and free. Still, the night wind faintly carried the potent tang of the Tiger Yakuza.

Once White Fang reached the top of the ridge, he slowed, weaving through a long patch of large sharp rocks. The sweet hot scent of a rabbit blasted inside his nostrils. With his hunting instinct aroused, and his curiosity as well, White Fang trotted in that direction.

Indolently stretched out on a boulder, Bad Biker Bunny, or Bart as he was known around Talbot’s Peak, regarded him. Unconcerned that he stuck out like a sore thumb to any predator in the area, he soaked in the moon’s rays, his white coat gleaming brightly.

We got trouble, he telepathed without preamble.

Yeah? White Fang sniffed as he padded toward the white rabbit, satisfying his wolfen hunger for the moment.

Spitting-into-the-wind bastard is about to be werewolf cuisine. With a confident twitch of his ears, Bart morphed to his human form. He grinned carelessly. “Delectable, ain’t I?"

White Fang gave a vigorous shake, then shifted to human. “Not now,” he answered. “What’s the scoop?”

“The MF pissed off Veronica and her gal pals at the movie theater a couple of hours ago. Heard he guffawed all the way through “Twilight.” They’re stalking him now. The puffed-up shithead is enjoin’ the lunar eclipse at the clearing closest to town. Oh yeah, he invited any real werewolves to join him.”

Despite the obvious save-the-day emergency, White Fang shook his head in disgust. As a plan formed, he asked, “How about playing the hero?”

“Bad Bunny to the rescue. Sure. What do you have in mind, Alien Wolfman?”

White Fang mind-sent his plan, and when Bart gave a curt nod, he took several steps back. “Nude Super Dude to the rescue,” he quipped. “Yeah, no cape to step on this time.”

With a quick grin, White Fang increased his frequency. His feet lifted from the forest floor. “You will keep my secret?” he dead-panned his expression for his own amusement, and to watch the rabbit shifter’s reaction.

For a split second Bart’s eyes bulged in surprise. But only for a split second. “No problem, nude super dude. Got a few secrets of my own.”

Spinning upward, above the treetops, White Fang flashed toward the clearing. Before his mind’s eye, he watched Veronica and her three gal pals surround the now terrified human.

The brainless wonder brandished his night-vision glasses and his camcorder at the snarling circle of werewolves. With snapping fangs, they took turns darting at him, then retreating.

His screams for help might as well have been spitting into the wind for all the good it did him. With hideous growls, the bitch werewolves tightened their circle. Relishing the fear of their prey, they menaced him, their eyes glowing blood-red.

Intent on tormenting her kill, Veronica snaked her neck. As her fangs sliced through his jeans, and scraped his flesh, Mr. Pain-in-the-ass threw his camcorder at her head. It bounced off like a rubber ball.

One of the other werewolves snatched it out of the air, crunched it once, then tossed it aside. Screaming his lungs out, the human pounded his night-vision glasses on Veronica’s head as she mouthed his calf.

Having waited for this very moment, White Fang dived downward. Wrapping his arm around the paralyzed, about-to-pass-out human, he streaked upward. Seconds later, White Fang landed on the backwoods trail Bart had ridden down on his way to the boulder.

Sure enough, the Biker waited. Partly concealed by a large tree trunk, he sat astride his Harley.

Swinging him around, White Fang gripped the yuppie dude’s shoulders and gave a good shake. “You all right, mister? That was a close call.”

His glassy eyes circled as he attempted to focus. “Wha... what? Who are you?”

While he waited for recognition to dawn, White Fang steadied the pee-and-feces stinky human. “We met at O’Malley’s bar. Remember?”

“O’Malley? Who the hell is that?” Slumping forward, the shocked-out-of-his-mind yuppie grabbed hold of White Fang’s forearms.

“The werewolf bar. You came in for a beer. Riled some folks.”

“Yeah, I remember now. Get your shit hands off me.”

White Fang let go, and had the satisfaction of watching the idiot human stumble backward. He managed to stay standing, his sudden fury the reason.

“What was that shit? Payback by you and some of your friends dressed up like werewolves? I’m calling the cops.”

“Hey, you don’t look so good, mister.” White Fang stepped forward, offering his hand. Now covered in fur, his hand changed into a paw. “Need some help getting back to town?”

Absolutely frozen, his jaw hanging, yuppie dude stared. “It’s a trick, right,” he garbled out.

“A friendly piece of advice, mister.” White Fang let his wolf coat emerge. “You better have that leg looked at. If the skin is broken you could be infected. You know, on the next full moon, a good quality steel cage --“

With a hoarse shriek, Mr. Yuppie whirled around. Not surprisingly, his feet tangled, and he nearly fell to his knees. Catching himself, he scrambled forward pumping his legs like uneven pistons. As he tried to get traction on the dirt trail, White Fang shifted to full wolf.

Lunging, White Fang sank his fangs into butt meat, and left large bruises before he let go. At the same moment, Bart roared into view.

“Jump on back!’ Bart hollered, and slid to a stop.

Smiling wickedly to himself, White Fang gave chase.
~~~~~~

Happy Lunar Eclipse Shapeshifting

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
~~~