Damien, Werewolf Godfather For Halloween

Halloween Werewolf howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

I'd planned to continue Kailla, new human lady in town, and Thundercloud, my silver god-wolf... their mating-love story. I was planning to write their Halloween Eve date at The Bohemian Thunder Club.

However, it turns out the fate of Talbot's Peak hangs in the balance. Damien, the werewolf thug-alpha who is Dante's sire—the vicious werewolf who originally took over the town of Talbot's Peak—is back in town with a particular vengeance for town mayor, Gil. Damien has a message, one that can't be refused... once the warning has been delivered, our beloved mayor must decide which path he chooses.

But here's the back story...

~~~~~~

Damien, Werewolf Godfather For Halloween

Dante took long moments to look each of his Guardian Protectors in the eye—six of them sat before him in a semi-circle. Their emergency meeting inside his Secure Room, had been intense. They'd discussed options, solutions...offered various opinions. The future and safety of every shifter and supernatural who lived in Talbot's Peak hung in the balance, and the angry frustration was palpable—as if a rival pack of werewolves chewed on him.

"Yeah," Dante conceded to his trusted inner circle, "I like the squirrel man. Gil has been good for the Peak. But as you say, it might be time for him to either resign as mayor. Or we'll do a recall election. Let the people decide if they want to trade state money for the freedom to run their own lives."

Shoving his hand through his hair, Dante growled a sigh, and sat back. "Holy freakin' howls, my desk is covered with complaints, actual written letters. The Peak's email system almost blew up. Glad we don't do the social media thing–-too much NSA exposure. But scat hell," Dante snarled, "I couldn't walk around the club without my shifter and supernatural patrons stopping me, and pointedly saying Gil was looking damn good as dinner—fried, boiled, baked, spit-roasted over a campfire, charcoaled, barbequed, smoked slowly...you name it. And those were the polite folks."

Dante paused, his rumbly chuckle dry, with little mirth. "My staff finally did an email campaign to let everyone know we fooled the mayor and friends into believing it was state money—that they and their loved ones were still safe from prying state eyes—from state regs and rules—from inspectors."

"Like we need inspectors breathing down our necks, telling us how to run our businesses. You run a bad business here. No customers. Real simple."

Dante swore real sparks flew from Kalindi's eyes. The owner of the local ice creamery was normally angel-gentle. Except when riled. Then her goddess side super-stormed, lightning included.

"Quite a psy op to accomplish that mission—deceiving Gil, Louie, and Vernon. Then, driving off those two undercover agent posing as a state officials." Delvezio wolf-snarled, baring his teeth briefly. "All that time I and my team could have made deals, brought in more organic produce and products. As it was I had to let some good offers go."

"Temporary setback, Del." Leaning forward, Dante clapped his Greek cousin on the shoulder. "By the Wolf Moon Mother, we'll make up for it," he assured. "Politics is a bloody fight no one wins."

"It's been gawd-awful hunting down, and erasing all the cyber tracks. Again." Ezzy,  hacker extraordinnaire, spoke in a clipped manner. She crossed her arms, and  angrily tossed her waist-long red tresses. "Someone with the moniker, poindexter, is out to infiltrate Talbot's Peak via the state's computer system. Whoever this poindexter is, he's behind handing out the money grants. Just discovered that before this meeting."

"Poindexter." Dante crunched the name between his partially emerged fangs.

"We're game-planning how to sniff him/her/it out, and observe...before going in for the kill. Gotta know who is pulling the strings from the cyber shadows."

"Keep me in the know," Dante commanded. "Minute by minute, if necessary."

"Will do, wolf boss man."

Dante barked out a growl. The thought slid into his mind like a weasel thief in the night. "Maybe, we'll sic this poindexter on Gil, Louie, and Vernon. The true danger of this situation might sink in, seep through those thick skulls of theirs—if their computer systems are compromised. If you, Ezzy, and your team, aren't around to save their butts. As you do daily."

"And thanks to Ezzy," Kitty gave a nod to the fox shifter woman, "to all of our Guardian teams, everyone is still safe and sound in Talbot's Peak. And, that's the only reason I haven't given Gil, Louie, and Vernon, a good cat-clawing—drawn serious blood. At least, not yet."

Dante fastened his gaze on his Kitty as she fumed. Her gorgeous eyes glowed dangerously. With time, patience, and his love, his mate had discovered her power.

"And thanks to Delvezio," Kitty gave him a wide smile, "we did fool those 'mansion-trio' fools into believing they were getting their precious money from the state. What the scat-attachment is to believing the establishment really cares about the folks in this town is beyond me. Especially in this day and age of massive *out the big fat wazoo* corruption. What? Do those three have father-issue complexes? And need a daddy-state?" Kitty snorted a sarcastic yowl, then folded her arms. "Louie is lucky I didn't call him out with his infamous meat cleaver. He's double-lucky I was too busy convincing good families not to move out of Talbot's Peak. To wait until we could sort this all out."

"I even gave Louie and Vernon the head's up," Kalindi spoke up. "That they were about to lose their strong customer base because of a possible exodus out of the Peak. That all of our business would suffer."

About to respond, Dante opened his mouth just as the emergency buzzer sounded.  He sprang off his chair, leaped the few steps, and jerked open the door. His long-time trusted friend, White Fang, the super wolf, didn't wait for an invitation. He slipped inside fast. Dante secured the door.

"Your sire is on the outskirts of Talbot's Peak." Even as he spoke, White Fang spun and faced Dante. "Minutes ago I spotted Damien and three of his top pack enforcers while flying perimeter patrol. His limo is unmistakable."

"Yeah, black as the tar pits. Long as a giant's casket," Dante growly affirmed.

"Long story short, I directed the ole super hearing. Mayor Gil is about to get one spookalooza visit. Although," White Fang paused for a beat, "on the positive side, roadkill wasn't mentioned."

"I told those know-it-all idjits that Damien wouldn't take kindly to them compromising the Peak with state money." Kitty rushed to Dante's side.

"Even with the tunnel speeder, I won't get there in time." Dante gripped the door handle.

"I'm on it." White Fang flashed out the door, saying, "I'll intervene if it looks like Gil is about to wear a pair of cement boots."

****

Damien settled himself in the mayoral chair. He tested out the swivel mechanism, then gave a derisive snort which became a low growl. "I should have brought my own chair. This is only fit for a piss-pathetic squirrel playin' at being town mayor. Scat moon, it stinks like nuts in here."

"Lights on, boss?" one of his enforcers asked.

"Naw. I want the squirrel to sweat. Shadowy monstrous figures and all. It's the Halloween season."

"We're werewolves, boss...what's with the shadowy figure business?"

"More godfather like, boys... but put your werewolf masks on, in case the mayor needs some more convincing. Now shut up. I hear the squirrel pattering up the steps."

Damien leashed his own inner werewolf. Tight. Hard. It wouldn't serve his purpose to fang-shred Gil into bloody bits. The unspoken truce between him and his disowned son—one *son of a wolf* formidable rival—served Damien's current plans.

The door opened, and Damien watched the squirrel man walked inside. "Dante? You wanted an emergency meeting? What's wrong?"

On that cue, one of Damien's enforcers slammed the door shut. Gil jumped like a squirrel whose tail had been bitten, and whirled to the door.

"You're not going anywhere, mayor. If you value that squirrel-human hide of yours, you'll hear me out."

"Who–who–who...?" Gil sounded like a distressed owl. Damien almost guffawed in a howl.

"Damien's the name. Remember that name, mayor?"

Silence. Utter silence. The squirrel man froze as if he'd been bodily tossed into an icy river.

Rising to his full height, Damien gestured to the chair. "Have a seat, mayor. Let's keep this civilized."

"Civ–civ-civilized?" Gil crept toward the chair, his beady eyes crisscrossing.

"My disowned son, is far more generous than I..it appears." Damien resumed his seat, posturing himself like the godfather from the movie of the same name. Once Gil managed to perch on the edge of the chair, he continued. "As I understand it,  you were given sufficient funds for your...what is it? ... the Autumn Nip and Romp Fun Festival?"

"Close enough," Gil squeaked out.

"I also understand his mate—that cat woman—explained in no uncertain terms why it was unwise to accept funds from a state agency... yet, you did so."

"It was forced upon..."

Damien bolted uprigh, pinning the shrinking Gil with his gaze. "Do you know why I took over this off-the-map town?" he boomed in werewolfian.

"Uh...uh, no...but, isn't that what wolves do? Take–take over territory?"

Damien uttered a short irritated growl. "Of course, we do. Scat, I thought walnuts were good for brain health. Don't you eat enough walnuts, mayor?"

"I'll...I'll eat more."

Damien stalked in front of the puny desk, then glared down at the scrunched up were-squirrel who still maintained his human form.

"Granted," Damien huffed in a pant of breath, "I am an ego maniac. So a drug-dealing psychiatrist will tell you. Yes, owning a town is ferociously appealing. But do you have any clue whatsoever why I really decided on this dangerous *get hunted down* move in the human-ruled world?"

Gil shook his head, his lips a straight line, as if they'd been permanently glued together.

Again Damien drew in a large breath, reminding himself the mayor was not particularly tasty. "I wanted to build a safe harbor, as they say. A safe den for my family, my pack. My grandpups. You," he shoved his finger in Gil's face, "you, and that *thinks he's tough* rat, and that turncoat scat-brain, Vernon, are endangering my family, my pack. My grandpups."

Striding to the side of the room, Damien tightened the leash on his werewolf, stopping his shift. "You don't get it, squirrel. Talbot's Peak only survives and grows as a safe town for you, your family—for shifters, and Lupa knows what kind of other supernaturals—because my disowned son makes certain everyone is protected. He, and those who surround him protect this territory from invaders you wouldn't dream about in your worst nightmares."

"When you have a moment, mayor, you might want to think about this scenario. If my disowned son decides to build his own town, how many in Talbot's Peak would pick up, leave immediately? I've been told his Pleasure Club can already accommodate the current population, should there be one of those prepper, *end of the world* emergencies.

"If your peanut brain is capable, think about this possibility. All my disowned son has to do is choose a suitable location, send in the planners and builders. He could replicate this place in less than a year, given his resources. You," Damien spun to Gil, "would have to rely on state aid, state handouts to help your rapidly lessening population. Count on the slackers, not many of them, to be at the head of any line with their paws out.

"Also, mayor, do give this consideration." Damien straightened his suit jacket, an imitation of Marlon Brando in "The Godfather". "You have no standing army to protect yourself from those who are only too willing to destroy every shifter on Earth." Damien paused for effect. "It's doubtful Mr. Turkle and his gun-toting clan would come to your rescue."

Damien sauntered toward the door. He tipped his invisible hat. "Good luck, as they say, mayor. Oh, as a matter of course you might want to know those were not state funds that were 'forced' upon you... or, an offer you couldn't refuse. You, and the chef rat, and that wolf turncoat, were duped, bamboozled, played during that recent meeting with my disowned son. Yeah scat, I got my own official sources. But gotta give that black-sheep son of mine a big paw-slap of credit. Turns out he's a fang off the ole werewolf block when it comes to deception—when it comes down to protecting his pack, and the pack's territory."

"Ah," Damien spun from the door. "Almost forgot this warning, mayor. Quite neglectful of me. Should you, and your friends, decide to go with the system, as they say, I plan to immediately establish my complete dominance over Talbot's Peak. Roadkill reports in the Guts and Butts Gazette will skyrocket, let's say. You should also know a new version of the werewolf mammoth merely awaits my command.

"Of course, my disowned son, and his Guardians, would try to protect you, all of you remaining Peakites. However, he, they will be weakened by rebuilding, by providing homes for those who leave this town. After all, my disowned son's first alpha responsibility will be to those loyal to him." Damien loosed a bark of diabolical-sounding laughter. "Let the werewolf wars begin.

"Confidentially, mayor, for your squirrel ears only, my black-sheep son is too powerful to fight jaw to jaw. Yes, I admit it. I failed to put the dominant-bite on him soon enough—due to my underestimation of his alpha abilities. And, rule number one, I don't start wars I could lose.

"One more little tidbit, a nut tossed your way, mayor. Look at it this way. Do you want to live under the alpha protection of my disowned son? Or, beneath my much less benevolent protection?"

A huge wolfish grin split Damien's face as he strolled through the door one his enforcers immediately opened. "Trick or treat, Mayor Gil."

"Scat! I didn't get to go werewolf on the lousy squirrel..."

"Next time, Deboner, next time. I promise."

~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

The New Year, 2012 Predictions by Gypsy Red Wolf

New Year greeting-yips and tail wags from your Gypsy Red Wolf.

Tonight the dog star, Sirius... really the wolf-soul star... rules the midnight grandeur of our Montana sky. Our beloved Mother Moon, growing ever more pregnant with light, enters the sign of Venus-ruled Taurus from the sign of Mars-ruled Aries.

This means the fierce flames of inspiration meet the beauty and love inside each one of us. During this year of 2012, our creativity is born anew, and our hearts will be on fire with love. This bodes well for those who are mated and those who are seeking their right mates.

To enter this year's blaze-sparkly vibration of love from the Sacred Universe, a never-ending swirl around each and everyone of us, join me at the Midnight Stardust Supperclub. Along with my performance every Saturday night at the Interspecies Pleasure Club, I am now one of the ballroom dance instructors.

My precious loup-garous, my precious ones of every breed-type and beautiful stripe, I promise the elegant, the enthralling, the enchanting pleasures of gliding within your loved one's arms at Dante's new supperclub. It is all what we need during this evil-raging, staging-of-chaos times by those who have succumbed to their darkest natures -- those cunning rabid beasts who battle to destroy the Light shining inside those of us who walk with the Mother Wolf Goddess.

Yes, yes... my crystal ball summons... once again, my howling and yowling friends, and all those who have made Talbot's Peak their new home this year... so many of you, and I welcome everyone with the embrace of my heart... it is time to gaze into my trusted, from the time of the ancients, wolfen-ancestral crystal ball... now un-clouding as if a winter storm passes and blue skies appear.

Time once again to put pen to paper in the old-fashioned way. Digital bytes interfere with the higher vibrations of our star-sparkling universe... ah yes, the predictions are piling up like our recent heavy snowfalls, I see.

Only for you, dearest readers of the G&B Gazette, I will reveal the secrets of the coming new year -- the much maligned, yet media-celebrated year of 2012. Don't believe the movies by the way, my wise ones. Garbage and chewed bones in, garbage and bone fragments out, as they grunting-say. ~yip-yip giggles~

Ah, my shapeshifter and supernatural brethren, has not the past year flown by, fast as riding the great swift wings of a golden eagle? And that brings us to my first prediction. Ascension. A mystical, airy purple-nude-fairy word, yes, to be sure... however...

We will rise as eagles. Or we will plummet like arrows who have missed their target. This will be true for you as a lone wolf individual, or as a member of the community pack. Only caring for each other and hunting for the benefit of all will allow for a well-fed spirit and a well-fed belly.

For, we have arrived at the apex of many cycles in time. It will be as if winter, fall, summer and spring converge and all the forces of nature crash together becoming one magnificent and tumultuous season. One never to be forgotten. Our wolf songs will be howled to the bright full moon with deep emotion, and someday in remembrance.

Yes, as has been forecast by many, severe land changes are here. I see the gnashing fangs, the ripping claws of Mother Earth. She will be cruel at times. She will also be loving and benign to those of us who remain connected to her energies, to those of us who dance and run with our wild spirits upon her surface.

Ah, loud howls of warning, dear ones, I see rough, trying periods ahead for many of us. Now is the time to hunt, to forage whenever the weather offers a friendly paw. Now is the time to prepare and store like our squirrel neighbors. Do so, and every difficulty will be overcome.

Picture me suddenly leaning closer... my crystal ball is brilliant, bold in what is being revealed. Yes, yes, there it is! Despite the feisty snarling year of 2012, be of good hope. Our handsome alpha champions of Talbot's Peak charge forth to savagely protect us, once again.

I am watching their strong fangs flash, ferocious as slashing knives. They are triumphant against every enemy. Even though, yes, in truth there are too many of our foes to count.

Truth, another giant trend for this New Year of 2012, slays the most wicked on Mother Earth like a squadron of hungry and ruthless dragons. Watch for it.

As a final note, my furry, feathered, skin and scaled brethren, our Brother Sun is entering a fickle, not-for-the-faint-of-heart cycle. Beware, and dare to prepare the caves and shelters of your choice.

As always, I remain available as your personal psychic advisor.
~~~

Your Gypsy Red Wolf

~ Psychic to the Furry, Feathered, Amphibian and Scaled Shifter. Humans now included ~
~~~~~~

~ Have a Magickal and Miraculous New Year ~

Savanna

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

Dante's Midnight Stardust Supperclub

Happy New Year howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Truth to tell after the mayhem sort of day I experienced yesterday, I wasn't certain I could write a post for today's blog. However, once all had finally calmed down, inspiration struck like a small lightning bolt, and Dante, my werewolf hero, came through telling me about his latest and greatest addition to the Pleasure Club. The grand opening is, of course, on New Year's Eve.
~~~~~~

Dante's Midnight Stardust Supperclub

"Only my beautiful Kitty is missing," Dante growled low and quiet out of habit, even though he was alone. Everyone else had left after putting the finishing touches on the newest addition to the Pleasure Club, the Midnight Stardust Supperclub.

For long moments, Dante imagined his lovely catwoman, Kitty, dressed in an elegant slinky gown, dancing in his arms. He whirled them over the smooth-as-glass ballroom floor -- over the rainbow shades of pearl in time to the sophisticated swinging music of a big band.

When he'd first began sketching out the design for the supperclub, he'd had Kitty in mind with each stroke, and with each idea he'd written down. Of course, once he'd finalized the plans, and began to build, the Midnight Stardust had taken on a grand and resplendent life of its own.

Standing in the center of the dance floor, Dante gradually spun around, scanning the interior of the huge geodesic structure that glistened with a subtle, snow-white luminescence. His only regret had been the necessity of keeping the supperclub underground. He'd wanted the romance of dancing and dining beneath a canopy of sparkling stars in an inky sky.

However, more important had been keeping the Midnight Stardust away from prying military-industrial-complex eyes. While the HAARP Tesla technology in Alaska could detect many underground compounds, there were ways to disguise the frequency waves, keeping his complex hidden.

To compensate the domed ceiling had been created to look like a fanciful midnight sky. Specialized filtered lighting made it appear as if stardust fell from the celestial black heavens. Often he would envision Kitty in his arms and their passionate kisses as the diamond glints of light surrounded them.

Kitty. His Kitty cat girl. More and more each day he was ferociously tempted to send her a gown, and everything a woman would need to dress for an elegant evening, along with a plea that she celebrate New Year's Eve with him.

Close, he was so close to being able to protect her from his sire and the killing fangs of his werewolf mafia. Dante growled savagely for several minutes as he swept his gaze over the second tier of the supperclub, setup for dining, enjoying drinks and viewing the dancers, and the band.

On the suggestions of many others, Dante had also installed a whole array of movie-tech affects that included a dawn sky and also twilight. He'd foregone a bright full moon just in case there were some werefolk who would be adversely affected.

The entire supperclub, or only one section, could also be infused with a golden radiance or a silvery glow. Then there were the bubbles of light, as if the dancers were inside a glass of champagne. For grins, and because he'd seen delight in the eyes of his women staff members, he'd included fizzy pink champagne light.

Not only had his ever-growing staff painstakingly put together a long playlist of romantic, big band era music, they'd searched high and low for a suitable band, finally discovering a group of Immortals who quickly became enamored with the idea of playing together once again.

Yeah-grumbles, their price had been over the top, but Dante figured it was well worth it to make the New Year's Eve grand opening one to remember and treasure. Especially if... Kitty... his Kitty gorgeous in a beautiful gown that flowed over her sexy sweet curves... if... so far, he'd managed untraced calls to her, and his Kitty's advice in designing the interior of the Midnight Stardust had been invaluable.

Tortured with thoughts of his only love, Dante strode toward the supperclub's kitchen and winery. Hiring enough competent staff had been a real, chase-the-moon challenge, as had been the menu selections. After all, catering to the tastes of werewolves, humans, paranormals, and shapeshifters of every type, carnivore and herbivore, presented problems unknown in a strictly human establishment.

Dante swiped one hand through his waves of hair, pausing to take in the sight of the second tier tables all dressed in pristine white linen with golden taper candles inside a glass globe, waiting to be lit. He'd had one helluva of a time deciding on what scents to infuse the air with, eventually choosing to keep the air purified since the ladies would be wearing various fragrances and perfumes -- the men colognes. He'd also provided a large smoking room, separate from the rest of club, but splendid in its own right.

With the reservations pouring in, Dante figured he might break even. But that was the least of his concerns. It was getting the supperclub off on the right paw, a haven for those who enjoyed a sophisticated atmospheric night out.

To encourage patrons he'd hired several dance instructors for private or group lessons in ballroom dancing. He'd also made certain there would be gallant and gentlemanly dance partners for all the ladies who were unescorted. His Vampire friends, a special breed unlike Hollywood's version of the blood drinkers, had traveled from all over the world, especially willing to meet and dance with any available woman.

Dante grinned, recalling their palpable excitement as he'd told them about the Midnight Stardust. Of course, he'd promised them real blood wine, always a particularly good inducement, given their refined palates. As well, staying at the Pleasure Club and enjoying the amenities had worked its magic over them.

Having consulted Lamar about same-sex couples, Dante had made arrangements in that regard. Although, at this point, he didn't know how much interest there would be with all the other New Year's Eve celebrations happening around Talbot's Peak.

After a quick inspection of the kitchen and the food lockers simply to reassure himself, Dante poured a dark ale he favored into a tankard, then let the irresistible lure of his secure phone line to Kitty pull him in that direction. He had to tell her the wind machines she'd suggested for the four intimate balcony dancing areas, located on the third and top tier of the supperclub, provided a breezy and dreamy romancescape for couples in love, and falling in love.

Besides, he wanted find out what color she preferred most for an evening gown.
~~~~~~

~ Have a Magickal and Shapeshifting New Year's Eve ~

Savanna

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

Don't Step on Superman's... er, Super Wolf's Cape...

Summer-hot greetings, shapeshifter lovers. Yep, from too chilly on the tame prairie to too darn hot. However, that’s a mild complaint given all the weather catastrophes of late. Hope you are safe and well, and getting ready for some summer fun and reading time.

Okay, then, a sort of rant ahead. Why? Because my hot button got walloped last Saturday night. There’s no other place to vent. And, my frustration level, in general, has probably passed Pluto by now.

Side Note: At least I don’t have to be frustrated over the edits for KANDY APPLE AND HER HELLHOUNDS. I completed those, and am about to do a read-over just to double check everything.

The radio show host shall remain nameless because he should remain nameless. However, last Saturday night he interviewed Gotham Chopra, yes, Deepak Chopra’s son, about how Gotham, to quote: “decoded the 7 essential laws that govern the realm of superheroes both ancient and modern, and explained how to apply these laws to our daily lives.”

Yeah, yeah, the mystical meets modern digital comics. While Gotham did have some valuable and pertinent insights, largely based on the gods and goddesses of his ancient East Indian culture... and, yes, their stories are AMAZING!... still, his version of these stories as translated for these times, seemed rather tame.

And, no, not lame. No, that description is reserved for the ‘nameless one’. I mean how often can you state that you find Superman as a superhero BORING. Oh, let’s see now, it had to be roughly TEN times during the late-night chat. Yep, at every opportunity it was the same tired of old mantra of how the nameless one couldn’t relate to a superhero as perfect as Superman.

Gee, really? How come?

What’s so perfect about Superman? He may be an alien man with super powers, but how does that make him perfect? Granted, I only know Superman from the several different TV series I've watched, including the original version. And, of course, Christopher Reeve as Superman on the silver screen.... wow, did my heart race and my breath catch.

Gosh, I don’t find saving the day, or saving the innocent BORING. It’s not like Superman was some robotic imitation of a human. He wasn’t even Spock-like. He had deep feelings and emotions. Over Lois Lane. Over the state of the world. Over... well life, and living life.

The Superman I saw was deeply conflicted at times, and faced terrible choices. Choices, he had to live with. How is THAT not human? Or, relatable?

So, he was often stoic. So, he was about doing the right thing, and being the good guy. So, he acted responsibly in his daily life, unless the Kryptonite got him, or whatever nastiness the villains managed to get him with. So, he was modeled on the ideal version of a man for THOSE times -- right after WWII.

Superman was also lonely. Very lonely, yet he persevered and made the world a better place by his actions. Heck... I bet that’s not relatable, either.

So, Mr. Nameless, he may not be relatable to YOU. Big effing deal. Like everyone else, you have a right to your opinions and feelings. You have a right to choose your fave superheroes and/or superheroines for whatever reason. And, for no reason at all.

But, get over it. Grow up. Get a freaking clue.

And, no problem... have your opinions and feelings, but don’t ‘force’ them on us as if your *opinion* has suddenly become the new religion. And, we all need to convert.

Yes, this hit home with me for two reasons. One, because of what I’ve already ranted about. And, two, because Mr. Nameless-shameless stepped on my Super Wolf’s cape. Good thing, it was White Fang’s metaphorical cape, and not his very real wolf tail. Because, hell, Nameless would be lucky to have a foot left dangling. Although, then White Fang would probably make certain he received medical assistance.

So, my Super Wolf is one of the good guys at heart. Don’t we need those kind of superheroes in our world today?

However, White Fang ain’t no saint, neither. When Pasha puts the seductress moves on him, he can’t resist, even knowing it’s not the wisest thing he’s ever done, and could cost him his mission.

And, like all of us White Fang makes mistakes. He has bad days. And, he’s damn lonely.

Not to mention his bride-mate, a woman he loved, chose another mate -- one reason he signed up for missions on Earth. Gosh, that’s not relatable, is it?

Ya know, some characters walk on the light side and feel the constant pull of the dark side. At times, they succumb. While some characters walk on the dark side, but reach for the light side. Because they crave redemption.

Redeem the bad boy or knock the good guy off his path? Either way, it’s a personal choice for the author, and the reader.

Ya know it takes all kinds of superheroes and superheroines in this world, or inhabiting all the worlds we writers create. So, why not extend an open hand, an open paw, to all of them, instead of a closed and clawed fist. Unless, of course, you’re the bad-guy, ruthless villain with extraordinary powers bent on ruling the world, the entire galaxy, then the universe. Well, hey, then a closed fist might be your style.
~~~~~~

Don’t Step on Super Wolf’s Cape

Human. Every nose in the old-timey gin joint got bent out of joint sniffing the air, including White Fang’s sniffer. The regulars cast suspicious glances, but being used to surviving in a human world, they acted as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

“What’s that ape doing in here? Isn’t it getting close to his beddy bye time?”

White Fang overhead one of the twenty-something werewolves say to his pack buddy. He, and Nick, shared a look, then took a swallow of their beers. Both of their gazes surreptitiously followed the man’s progress as he strolled toward the bar.

After a long day, he and the Guts and Butts Gazette editor, had stopped in for a cold brewski. There’d also been a few matters they wanted to discuss regarding the investigative stories White Fang had been writing about the Tiger Yakuza.

Given White Fang’s recent discovery that one of Shere Khan’s son had hacked into their computer system, he and Nick had become patrons of O’Malley’s roaring twenties’ bar. O’Malley, the grizzled werewolf owner, didn’t allow any of them newfangled devices in his place.

No one snuck one in, either. O’Malley’s nose never failed, and he tossed the offender out on his butt. With a snarl, he would inform them to stay away for the next two weeks.

Once he reached the bar, the *I just hit midlife* yuppie glanced around, a friendly expression on his face. “Hey, fellas. Quite an interesting little town you have here.”

White Fang had been about to answer when O’Malley straightened from wiping the bar, and directed his gaze at the human. “Yeah, interesting. Noticed you followed my rules. Yer not carrying one of them smartphone thingamajigs. What can I serve ya?”

“Whatever you have on tap. The wife is settling into our motel room.”

“Sure. Coming up.” O’Malley slung the large white cloth over one shoulder, and turned toward the tap.

“What’s up with all the werewolf pictures, references and memorabilia? Did the original wolfman move to Talbot’s Peak, and raise a family?” Mr. Smiley-Face Yuppie encompassed them all with his gaze.

“Something like that.” Eric, the twenty-something growled, then buried his nose in his beer for a long swallow.

“Never did get the whole *shift to beast killer during the full moon* thing,” the human announced as if his thoughts arrived from on high.

“Is that so?” Vincent, Eric’s pack buddy, challenged in his ‘pissing contest’ voice. With a stare, he set his tall glass down, the sound a definite clank on the wooden table.

“Do you know what I really can’t believe?” Mr. Yuppie mentally raised his own leg, and gave stare for stare. “Werewolves are the heroes in smut novels. Come on, what woman in her right mind would want...let’s say...relations with a hairy, ugly, butt-smelling --"

White Fang stood fast, intercepting Eric and Vincent as they leaped toward the human, their fangs bared. With finesse, he made it appear as if he merely brushed past them. Instead, he used his super strength to halt them in their tracks.

“Make that beer to go, would you, O’Malley?” White Fang leaned one elbow on the bar casually, but didn’t spare Mr. Yuppie his own fierce stare. “You’re not making any friends here, mister. Why don’t I walk you to your motel?”

“What are you, some good-guy superhero?”

White Fang raised his brows as he handed the filled plastic container to Mr. Not Smiley-Face Now. “Superhero?” he mildly asked.

“Yeah, I saw that move you put on the two college kids over there.”

Feeling the hostile vibes escalate to a dangerous level, White Fang inquired, “Did you?”

“I know a black-belt martial arts move when I see it.”

“On the house,” O’Malley answered the human’s glance and his reach for his wallet. “Just let the man here give you --"

“I don’t need anyone walking me to my motel, even if it is called Hunter’s Moon. Certainly, I don’t need superhero dude here.” With those parting words, the human pivoted, heading for the door

“Like stepping on Superman’s cape, do you?” Nick called after him.

“Like spitting into the wind, too,” the Yuppie mocked, speaking over his shoulder.

Rising, Nick set his beer down, and gave White Fang a wink that said “I’ll watch out for the fucking idiot.”

White Fang answered with a nod. He kept his grin to himself as he returned to his spot at the bar. Yeah, sport, you only get to step on Super Wolf’s cape once. After that, it’s fangs flashing in the moonlight, and one helluva lesson.
~~~~~~

Happy Month of June Shapeshifting

Savanna

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

Dante and Kitty ~ Unrequited Shapeshifter Love

Seasonal howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers. With snowstorms playing monstrous villains this past week, I thought I’d use a snowfall to bring Dante and Kitty together, if only briefly.

Dante, Biker Alpha

Dante knows he’ll never be the werewolf son his top-of-the-pack sire wanted. That’s Devon, his brother’s role. He left Talbot’s Peak to protect the catwoman he loves. Now, he’s back. And while he’s looking for a way to win her heart again, and keep her protected, he intends to make his own alpha mark. As the secret owner of the Last Bite Lodge, Dante also owns the interspecies pleasure club hidden below.
~~~

Katrina ~Cat~ Collins, aka Kitty Kewtie

Katrina is the sweet little cat shifter who started it all with her letter to the editor. She is determined to recover from her devastating heartbreak, and continue on with her life. After a night of tender and wild passion between them, Dante swung astride his Harley and left town. Even though, she knew Dante needed time to become the alpha wolf he is now, Katrina wants nothing to do with him. So what, if she dreams about him every night.
~~~~~~

Dante and Kitty ~ Unrequited Shapeshifter Love

Dante strummed the opening chords for the song he’d written about her. How many had he composed so far? He counted ten. He’d written about how much he loved her, and about her girl-next-door loveliness. About her eyes that were the clear blue of a mountain lake. Her eyes. She could always embrace his heart with her gaze.

His notes sounded sour suddenly, and Dante nearly threw his beloved guitar against the stone wall. Instead, he laid it aside, and leaped upward striding for his favorite window. Snowflakes danced on the winds preceding the blizzard he’d sniffed in the air, as he’d walked the short distance from his pleasure club.

Overtaken with restlessness, and the ache that too often consumed him, Dante stared into the depths of the evening forest. Where was she? His Kitty. His Katrina. Was she safe and warm, curled up before her blazing fireplace, holding a mug of catnip tea?

Or did she run and gambol in a forest clearing as she loved doing whenever a new snowfall began? That’s how Dante had first met her in her animal form. While hunting the vermin population that plagued his new den home, he’d come upon her.

Hidden by the trunk of a tall pine tree, he’d stalked her with his predator’s gaze as she playfully raced in circles. With utter joy, she threw her fluffy, yet sleek feline body forward, tumbling and rolling on the thin carpet of leaves and snow. Springing high, she batted at the flurry of snowflakes, her pale fur beautiful against the forest backdrop.

“Katrina.” Her name might as well have been every sad beat of his heart. How long he’d watched her Dante didn’t remember. But, he’d finally joined her by running pell-mell into the clearing.

His Kitty had froze, preparing to run for her life. Dante pretended to ignore her. Performing a series of jumps, he snapped at the large wet flakes. A fair distance from her, he had done his own playful rolling on his back. With his paws lashing the air in every direction, he exposed his belly to her.

Shyly, carefully, she played tag with him. They took turns chasing each other, circling the clearing. Toward the end of the game, they raced madly after each other, churning up the leaves so the bits clung to their coats.

Afterward, their pants steamed up the cold air as they romped with each other like cub and kitten youngsters. Wanting her to trust him, Dante hadn’t tried to wrestle with her. Not during that first meeting between them.

Groaning, Dante pressed his forehead against the cool window pane. He had plans to woo her, win his Katrina’s love again. But, it was a long range strategy that included a way to protect her from his sire.

Scat! He needed her now. Switching to his wolf vision, Dante watched small prey animals forage for their last bites of food, then burrow themselves into their warmest places to wait out the blizzard.

Before he knew it a howl ripped through his lusting loins, straight from the crown of his hard-as-a-log cock. The howl surged inside his throat with such force, he felt it burn. Dante tipped his head back and howled.

He hadn’t been able to shift first, so strong was his longing. Still, the mournful song came from his werewolf soul. And, he knew it also came from the taint his father concealed at all costs. There was full human blood in his lineage, only discovered by a fluke blood test done on Devon.

His cur-fool of a brother had drank himself into a stupor at a frat party, and been taken to a private shapeshifter clinic. Afterward, to his brother’s credit, Devon had bitten the silver bullet, becoming a top student.

Dante wondered how much his sire had paid to ‘retrieve’ those test results, and ‘whom’ he had paid off. During his own quiet investigation, he’d been relieved to find out no blood had been spilled and no one’s head had been fang-torn off over the matter.

To a werewolf pack that turned humans into their kind, it wouldn’t have been a concern. However, his ancestry began at the inception of Rome, originating from a mysterious sect of wolfen. Unlike some of his brethren werewolves, his bite didn’t turn humans.

Taking several steps back from the window, Dante tugged off his boots in record time, then stripped off his shirt and black leather pants. Naked, he ran for the ramp leading down to his den.

As he wound through the long tunnel toward his outside entrance, his shift occurred. His fur emerged, mere pricks of pain. His bones cracked and popped, the sound minimal and the transformation painless.

In under a minute, his skeletal structure became wolf, and so did the rest of his body. His claws scraped the rock as he sprinted. His ears folded flat against his head, seeking relief from the wind.

Bursting into the darkness of evening, he gave his tail a fast shake just to feel the length of it. His speed didn’t lessen. There was no need. The clearing, their clearing was less than a mile away as the crow flew.

Each time his paw pads struck the soft forest floor, the song of the Great Mother vibrated through Dante. And he listened, his wolf being singing with her for a time. Now, he cocked one ear, listening for the familiar gait of his Katrina Cat.

Having disconnected his mind from hers, except to keep her protected, Dante didn’t know where his Kitty was. He only knew he had to be with her, if only to catch a moment’s glimpse of her. Feline or woman, he didn’t care.

If she’d needed him because she was in trouble...or, if anyone planned to harm her, Dante would know her location instantly. It was how he’d been able to secrete his Kitty away to the cave where White Fang found her. That, and the magical elixir Pasha had given him caused him to be invisible.

Hope like love sank its fangs into him, and clamped down. Dante slowed, feeling the wet cold snowflakes softly strike his muzzle. With the clearing close now, he trotted toward the tall pine tree.

Empty. The clearing was as empty as his heart.

Dante ignored the dash of a rabbit, and sat next to the pine’s trunk, his rump collapsing beneath him. He stared at the empty clearing, whimpering. Unable to leave, he watched the thick snowfall cover the ground.

When a howl burst into his throat, he tossed his muzzle high...

Dante?

With his interrupted howl almost choking him, Dante whipped around.

Kitty, his Katrina crouched behind a boulder about twice her size. She peeked around it, her eyes blue exotic gems in the darkness.

He didn’t move. Kitten, he paused, then dared, it is written.

For long moments neither one of them moved a muscle, not even to blink. Their gazes beamed into one another, the heart’s code, even if his Katrina didn’t know it. Even if she refused it.

Dante waited, knowing it was better if she did refuse him. For now. Still, feeling as if his life was held by a whisker, he waited.

Her sudden launch caught him off guard for a split second. Feline-lithe, she bounded toward him, tagging his shoulder with her nose.

You’re it, dog breath.
~~~~~~

~ HAPPY SHAPESHIFTING HOLIDAYS ~

Savanna

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

White Fang Kent ~ Interview with the Biker Alpha

White Fang followed Dante, Biker Alpha, down the stairway and toward a medieval dungeon-like door with an ornate sign: There Be Shapeshifters of Every Kind. Beware of Fangs, Claws and Tails.

The hot tang of cat tail claimed White Fang’s nostrils as Dante shoved open the clanking door. They entered an old-fashioned tavern with sconce candlelight. At first glance, that is. In reality, the underground area was immense, and the overall elegant design surprising.

“Welcome to my interspecies pleasure club.” Dante waved his arm in low-key fashion. “Two pints,” he spoke to a beta werewolf server, dressed in Regency period attire.

“You have been keeping secrets.” White Fang spoke as he seated himself in the private monk’s booth Dante indicated.

After surveying his private kingdom, Dante sat opposite White Fang. With a small grin, he lounged against the wall, his arm resting atop the bench seat. Using his mild-mannered voice, White Fang continued, “I’m going to guess this is a story you don’t want in the Guts and Butts Gazette.”

“On the contrary, ace crime reporter, I want my enterprise exposed -- let’s say to the public at large.”

White Fang raised his brows, his instincts telling him the obvious wasn’t true. “Catch 22?”

“You got me.” Dante paused as the server delivered two foamy pints on a silver platter, a dark brew known for it’s rich malt flavor.

“Serving werewolves on silver. A clever fang sense of humor.” White Fang raised his glass tankard high matching Dante, then they both took a draw. “Superb, as usual.” Keeping his gaze steady and steely, White Fang asked, “What do you want from me?”

“Two things, Kent.” Dante eased forward, his own gaze fierce and uncompromising. “Make that three.” He leaned an elbow on the plank wood table, sadness returning to the depths of his eyes. “I want you to protect my Kitty, my Katrina. Story for a later time,” he added, averting his face.

After a deep quaff of his brew, Dante eyed him again, his resolve pure savagery. “You got your super-dog secrets, Kent, or you wouldn’t have been able to track me here. This place is my secret haven and I intend to keep it that way.”

White Fang waited. Always let them do their own talking, that was his reporter’s experience. It resulted in the best story.

“Got a gang wants to move in on my territory. The Tiger Yakuza. I’ll give you their current hangout.”

“Dominos.” White Fang tipped up a healthy draw, and waited again.

“Fuck, yeah, like dominos. Once they move into a territory, they sink their claws into every business. One by one, they all fall.” Dante pounded his fist on the table once, his eyes flashing with ferociousness and frustration. “The town is in danger.” Settling back again, he wrapped his now clawed hand around the tankard. “Sent anonymous warnings to my sire, then contacted Devon. No action. Scat, like taking over a town from the apes makes the pack invincible. They both got their snouts up their wormy asses. And, Devon is acting like a freaking girly debutante with his big frigging deal party.”

“Had my share of run-ins with the Tiger Yakuza.” White Fang didn’t say 'who' had the fearsome tiger shifters by the furred balls, and 'who' could crush at will. “Sure, I’ll do an investigative report. Add the facts I can prove. That should act as a warning with bonus points.” He curled one corner of his mouth, amused at his next thought. “Nick will get his editor-rocks off.”

Dante gave a satisfied nod. “You’ll be in like Flint, as the apes say.”

Silence followed, and they both lifted their tankards, draining them. From the corner of his eye, White Fang watched the long-legged, elegant catwoman sway toward the bar at the far end of the room. Her figure-hugging red dress was at odds with the Victorian-style pub bar. That was just fine with him. Her curves rivaled those of the actress, Ann-Margret.

Dante eyed him again, his posture relaxed. Yet, the alpha werewolf clearly remained ready to spring into action. “From what I hear, that hot little bitch, Ziva, has Nick licking his blue balls these days.”

White Fang grinned. “Caught Nick humping his desk after one of their snarl-snap matches.” Leaning forward, he confronted Dante with his gaze. “Two out of three. What else do you want?”

“Publicity, Kent.” Dante offered a cocky grin. “No one in town needs to know I own this upscale pleasure club. Just that it’s here.”

“Sure, why not? I’ll work it into the story. A wolf’s den of iniquity. All shapeshifters welcome.”

White Fang knew the instant the curvy catwoman slinked in his direction without seeing her. His cock gave a mighty hitch and his spine iced with warning.

“When Maggie shows I’ll make certain that wily queen of gossip gets the ‘special’ tour. Hear she wrangled herself an invite to Devon’s debutante ball.”

“The guilt monster grabbed Nick by the scruff. So he made certain Mooney got she company.”

“Yeah, brotherly love. Know all about it,” Dante sneered. He tossed down the remaining swallow of brew. When the tankard hit the table, his expression utterly changed. A glint of amusement possessed his eyes, more wolfen now than human.

“Pasha.” Dante subtly nodded, indicating the catwoman in the fire-red dress approaching them. “Like what you see, Kent?”

White Fang hadn’t missed the smallest movement of Pasha’s curvaceous body from the very second she’d seductively strolled in their direction. “Enough to turn alpha.” Switching his gaze to her, he openly stared. “She could raise the mating fur on a snake.”

Dante howled a laugh. “Scat piles, Kent. I’ll keep your alpha identity secret. We both got good reasons to stay hidden.”

“Agreed. Yours is your sire.”

Moments ticked by. “Yeah, super dog. He hates feline shifters. Enough to kill them.”

“Tough break. You have my word I won’t let the cat out of the bag.”

White Fang heard Dante unfold himself, then lightly land on the floor, the sound of his boots minimal. “Pasha is your source. She’s been trying to grab the Tiger Yakuza by the tail for several years now. They murdered an ape friend of hers.”
~~~~~~

Shapeshifter Lovers, News You Can Use

***Headline for Thursday, December 2, 2010***

GUEST AUTHOR ~ STACEY ESPINO
~~~~~~

~ HAPPY SHAPESHIFTING HOLIDAYS ~

Savanna

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