Take This Job And ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Excuse me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Moving Out

Virgil Hancock carefully loaded another box into the bed of his pickup. Today’s the day, he thought. Today I leave Montana behind and start a new life. My life.

What kind of life it might turn out to be, or where, he had no idea yet. But it would include a she-wolf, that was for damn sure. And pups. Don’t forget the pups.

The Hancock shifter pack might be progressive in a lot of ways, but when it came to mating rights the leaders clung to their ancient privilege like a wolf with a bone in its jaws. Only the alpha pair got to mate and reproduce. Sure, the lower ranks could hump all they liked. Pack law had loosened up that much. They just couldn’t hump she-wolves. Non-wolf partners only. Pups resulting from such liaisons couldn’t rise to leadership. Full-bloods could be seen as a threat to the alpha’s authority. And alphas were utterly paranoid when it came to enforcing their authority.

As a low-ranker, Virgil was far enough down the line to be unnoticed, by females as well as the males. Those higher up the ladder took their pick of available non-wolf women. That didn’t leave much left over for Virgil and those at his level. Therefore, a permanent road trip was necessary.

He wrestled a trunk into the bed of the truck. Work fast, he ordered himself, before you change your mind. All he asked of life was a she-wolf to share it with, and maybe pups to raise. Was that too much to hope for?

In the Hancock pack, hell yeah.

He leaned against the truck to catch his breath, just as a she-wolf burst out of the pack compound’s main lodge. Virgil didn’t recognize her. She was high-rank and out of his reach. Hot on her heels charged a wolf Virgil did know, whose face prompted swearing and sub-vocal growls. Oh scat. Darnell. Mr. Beta-Enforce-the-Rules. Virgil turned back to his loading. Another hour and he wouldn’t have to put up with Darnitall any more.

The two stormed past him and his truck without noticing either. Typical up-ranks. Darnell caught up with the she some distance off. They argued hotly, in low tones, though not low enough that a wolf with sharp ears couldn’t pick up on the gist of it. A wolf such as Virgil, for instance.

“Why can’t I just—”

“You know why. This is too important. This affords us a chance t to—”

“I won’t be used like some kind of—”

“Well, if you hadn’t—”

“My fault?”

Perhaps, Virgil considered, a quick duck into the lodge might be prudent. However, before he could move the she-wolf stalked past his truck and stomped back inside. Okay, one crisis averted.

Now here came Crisis Part Deux. Darnell sauntered up to him, as if the preceding drama hadn’t just happened. He looked Virgil up and down. That smile couldn’t fool a blind mole. “Vinnie. You’re up and about early.”

“Virgil.” Not that it was going to matter in about an hour or so. He slapped the side of the truck before Darnitall could start asking questions. “Hunting trip. I could be gone for a while.” Yeah. Try forever.

Darnell nodded absently. “Any chance you’ll be running into humans?”

“I’m not planning on it, but there’s always a chance.”

“You know the rules. No open conflict. Self-defense only. Be discreet.” His narrow eyes flicked toward the lodge. The porch still burned with the high, acrid scent of angry bitch. “Our survival as a pack hinges on discretion.”

“I’m going outside our territory, so it isn’t going to matter.” I.e., no chance he’d gossip to the other low-ranks about anything he might have just witnessed. He saw by the glint in Darnitall’s eyes the anal beta got it.

“All right, then. Have a good time. Bring us back some—” His usual suspicious frown returned. “What are you hunting?”

A life not dictated by hidebound high-ranks. “I was thinking elk. I might try Wyoming.”

“Good luck, then.” Darnell swept past him, on the trail of the outraged bitch. Never mind that an elk was too big and tough for a single wolf to bring down on his own. That wasn’t the point. As long as Virgil didn’t yap about anything he’d just seen, he and his plans didn’t matter a beaver’s flat ass to Darnell. Just the way Virgil wanted it.

He transferred the last two boxes from ground to bed of truck, then covered it all with a tarp. No good-byes. One last go-over in his quarters and then it was off to a brighter, better future.

There was no sign of Darnell or the she-wolf in the lobby, Virgil was happy to note. He made it to his room without incident. He had very little to pack up here—some extra clothes, bits of cash he’d stashed away, his favorite running shoes. Nothing in the way of mementos.

It frightened him a little, how easily he could walk away from the place that had been home and family to him for almost twenty-seven years. His place in the world was defined by the pack. What awaited him beyond its borders?

His first thought as a lone wolf brought a thin smile to his lips. Let’s find out.

Returning to his truck, Virgil checked the tarp and found a number of the ties loose. He snorted and secured them. Pups, sniffing around. He was going to miss the pups far more than their rank-rigid parents. His own pups (once he found a mate) would be raised to be more open-minded.

Before he climbed into the cab, he dug a quarter out of his pocket. He had no destination in mind, other than away. Heads, east, tails, west. Virgil tossed the coin, caught it, and slapped it onto his wrist. “East it is,” he murmured.

He drove out of the Hancock compound without a single backward glance. From here on out, everything was forward. He was packless now. With a little luck and a lot of effort on his part, that shouldn’t hold true for long.

# # #

Miles and hours rolled by before Virgil finally glanced in the rearview. He noticed not one but two ties on the tarp had come loose. Fortunately a road sign announced an upcoming rest area. He kept a close eye on the tarp for the full two miles, and pulled over.

His possessions were all still intact. Along with the one he hadn’t packed.

“Hi,” the argumentative she-wolf said. She smiled up at him brightly. “Where we going?”

Who Ya Gonna Call?

Just goes to show, you’re not safe anywhere. One minute Ewan Carter had paused outside the bar to shake an annoying bit of gravel out of his boot, the next somebody yanked a canvas bag over his head, two somebodies grabbed his arms, and he was being hustled into the back of a van. Now, Ewan was a man who liked to see action on a Saturday night, but this was all a tad much.

His nose told him several things: his captors were human, not Tiger Yakuza; he hadn’t smelled them around Talbot’s Peak before; and they’d had a couple slugs at the bar, probably just enough that a public kidnapping seemed like a good idea. One of them tripped against a cycle’s wheel and went, “Darn it!”, which told him they were young and unprofessional as well as mildly drunk. It all added up to college kids on a dare. Them being human and him not, he could probably shake ‘em off with a minimum of fuss, without even having to shift.

He was about to lash out when the one on his left arm crushed in a step closer and his nose let him know she was female. Chivalry checked the elbow he’d been ready to ram into her ribs. Curiosity did the rest. Now why would a bunch of college kids nab a random cowboy outside of Dante’s bar? Confident now he could ditch these puppies any time he wanted, Ewan decided to play along and see what they were up to. Besides, for a Saturday night it had been pretty dull up to now.

However, token resistance did seem called for. The kidnapper on his other arm was male. Ewan hip-slammed him and trod on his foot and knocked his elbow into the monkey’s chin before two more males grabbed hold of him. After that he let himself be man- and womanhandled into the van with little fuss.

“Don’t be frightened,” the woman whispered to him as the van sped out of the parking lot. “We’re not going to hurt you. We only want to help.”

“You’d be helping a ton if you took this bag off my head. It stinks to high heaven in here.”

“Forget it,” the male on his other side growled. “You’re not biting anybody, werewolf.”

Game changer. Ewan went still and said very carefully, “Werewolf? What makes you think I’m a werewolf?”

“We know what you people are. We’ve been watching you for weeks.”

And Dante didn’t know? What the hell had happened to security? “Lemme guess. You had one too many Montana Sunsets and you think I’m somebody else.”

“We don’t know or care who you are, other than you’re a werewolf. Once we figure out how they did it, we’ll put a stop to the whole operation.”

“Did what?”

“No talking to the subject!” somebody snapped from up front. The surly male on Ewan’s right fell silent.

Well, scat and a half. This was way worse than college kids, more dangerous than Yakuza. These were cryptozoologists. Amateur cryptozoologists.

The one on his left being female, Ewan figured he’d have a better shot with her. “What’s he talking about?” he whispered at her. “What operation? What’re they up to?”

“The people who turned you into a werewolf,” the woman whispered back. “We know they’ve got this huge underground complex where they experiment on innocent captives.”

“Yeah?” Well, that might be true, as far as it went. Plenty of experimentation went on at the Pleasure Club; that was stone cold fact. Probably not the kind these monkeys were thinking of, or had ever thought of. “So now you’re taking me captive so you can experiment on me?” He added alarm to his voice. “You ain’t gonna butt probe me, are you?”

“We want to help you,” she said earnestly. “We want to find out how they’re changing people, so we can make you human again.” She patted his arm. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay. We won’t hurt you, I promise.”

 “How’d you find out about us? I mean, the Doctor, he goes all out to hide what he’s up to.”

The murmurs from the front of the vehicle suddenly stopped. He had their attention. Now to see what he could pry loose from them.

“C’mon,” he whined. “You caught me. I’m helpless and all. Somebody tell me what’s going on before I wet myself.”

The man on his right edged away from him. The woman inched closer and tightened her grip. Her breath was hot and excited against the exposed parts of his neck.

“You’ll find out soon enough, when we get where we’re going,” the male up front told him. “Our boss is going to be happy to see you. Really, really happy.”

Hired help, then. Okay. That explained the amateur status. Ewan searched the van with nose and ears. He picked out five male voices and six human scents, with an overlay of pizza and fried beef. No gunpowder; they weren’t armed. They might have Tasers. If they thought he was a werewolf, there could be silver knives. Silver didn’t bother a shifter, but a blade was a blade and could be trouble. Until he found out who the boss was, he’d better play it cool.

The woman pressed her bony hip against him. “I’m really sorry about this,” she murmured.

“You and me both.”

“We want to help. We really do.” Her voice dropped even further, nearly into the sultry zone. “You wouldn’t bite me, would you?”

“That’d be deadly,” Ewan said. Especially considering some of the places his mouth had been. “You don’t need to be scared of me. I’m a friendly werewolf. You seen Twilight?”

“Seven times.” Chaos help her, she sounded proud of that.

“Team Jacob?”

“Of course.”

Ally. That could come in handy. He could play on that. Pity he’d never seen the movie himself. Well, he’d figure out something. He leaned back and listened to the terse conversations of his captors, mining their words for info. No hint on who their boss was. Didn’t matter. These yahoos were about to find out the only thing more dangerous than a pissed-off wolf was a wolf with enough coyote in him to have a sense of humor.

Not the Marian Kind

The Talbot’s Peak Library doesn’t see much action. Between cable TV, video games and the Internet, who has time for books? They’re ancient and outmoded and no self-respecting (and peer-aware) kid would be caught dead with an actual one in their book bag. The library’s for old geezers looking for a warm place out of the wind, and cash-poor students with laptops looking for free Internet.

People figure the same holds true for the Talbot’s Peak librarian. Evie’s a sweet girl, but, well, she’s a librarian, and you know what that means. Shut up all the time in a drafty old building with musty books for company, and liking it that way. She dresses the part, in demure skirts and primly-buttoned blouses and reading glasses on a chain around her neck, so all the rumors must be true. It’s a pity, because she’s still young enough to catch herself a man if she’d only make the effort. Mutters and headshakes accompany the compassionate looks passers-by give the building.

Evie’s scanning returned DVDs into the system when she hears the front door open. It’s early afternoon, the traditional dead time when she’s able to catch up on her cataloging. A pack of oldsters has taken over the reading room, as they do most days after lunch. They’ll hog the chairs and the newspapers and argue about everything from politics to Medicare, and drive everybody away until around three, when school kids allegedly bent on research will pop in to meet with their friends and drive the old men out in turn. There’s one guy using the computers, a nervous sort hunched in his chair with his nose only inches from the screen. Evie thinks he might be a ferret, and figures he’s surfing for porn. There are no kids around, so for the time being she’ll let him get away with it.

The man heading for the circulation desk makes her sit up and set her glasses aside. Grayson Chase knows how to fill out an EMT uniform quite nicely. People say he’s not a full wolf shifter, because of the one blue eye. Evie knows better. He’s got the distinctive alpha walk, that unique gait that makes him look like he’s stalking prey with every intention of catching it. She props her elbow on the counter and her chin in her hand and watches every step of that sexy walk carry him up to the desk.

“Anything I can help you with?” she asks in a husky voice.

“I’m looking for a book,” he says, in that wolfy growl that can curl a girl’s toes right on back to her heels. “I’m not sure of the title. I think it’s under History.”

“Of course, sir. If you’ll follow me?”

She feels his hot breath on the nape of her neck as they pass the computer terminals. The ferret never looks up. Evie navigates the shelves with a sure step and unerring sense of direction. Their destination puts them within earshot of the oldsters, an easy trick as the men tend to shout. “That’s a crock of scat, you old goat.”

“Who are you calling a goat, dogbreath?”

“If the beard fits, Billy.”

Under cover of their argument Evie murmurs, “Can you recall the subject matter? That would help narrow it down.”

He’s right beside her, nuzzling her neck. She leans into him. He always smells delicious. A ragged little growl builds in her throat.

“A history of illicit lovers,” he whispers, and licks her cheek.

That’s all she needs. Her hand has his fly down before he finishes the sentence. His hand hikes her skirt up her thigh. They sink to the carpet in tandem, shielded from view by the towering shelves. As always, part of Evie hopes someone will happen by. The constant threat of discovery adds zest to the act.

She picked this job deliberately when she came to Talbot’s Peak. She wanted to disappear. Libraries are nice and anonymous. Play up to people’s expectations, dress and act the part, and it’s easy to become invisible. Aware of everyone and everything, while passing under all the various radars. Coyotes are tricky that way.

Of course Chase found her again. It wasn’t the first time he’d lived up to his name. Was she secretly happy he’d tracked her down? Does the Mayor eat bananas?

“Hey. Hold up a second, Billy. You hear something?”

“That’s just the pipes. When are they gonna turn up the heat? It’s always so dang cold in here.”

Evie’s not cold. She’s deliciously warm, here on the floor in Chase’s arms. Chase removes the hand he used to muffle her cries and blocks her mouth with a kiss instead. The hand came into play after the lunch room incident, when people outside heard her howls. Now everyone thinks the library’s haunted. Hey, coyotes sing when they’re happy. Look it up.

“I’m afraid we don’t have that book here, sir,” she says when he finally releases her mouth. “I’ll have to request it from another branch.”

“How long will that take?”

“A couple of days. Come back Thursday.”

He helps her up. They tug each other’s clothing back into place and walk hand in hand to the circulation desk. The oblivious ferret hasn’t budged.

“I may need another book,” he tells her once she’s back behind the desk. “One on dog training. I’ve got this bitch that insists on yapping at the most inopportune times.”

“That’s easy to correct.” Evie reaches into a drawer and pulls out a bondage magazine. “Page 67. Muzzles work wonders. You can also roll this up and swat her with it.”

“I’ll give it a try.” He rolls up the magazine and leans across the desk to whack her lightly on the fanny. “Harder than that,” she growls. “Make it worth her while.”

“Not today. Maybe Thursday.” The ferret’s not looking, so he swoops in and plunges his tongue in her mouth. Every time’s still as exciting as the first. She toys with the idea of running again, just so he can pursue her.

Or maybe she’ll just stay put this time. Do a little chasing of her own.

He flicks her a lazy salute and a grin and strolls out of the library. Evie looses a contended sigh and returns to her computer cataloguing.

People say a lot of negative things about libraries and librarians. They should remember an even older saying: Never judge a book by its cover.

Radio Gaga

“You could be miiiiiiinnnnnnneeeeee …. Yeah! Guns ‘n’ Roses blasting you out of bed on 105.7, SHFT, Talbot Peak’s only rock and roll radio station. You’re listening to Tabbs and Fuzzy on the Morning Hair Ball and we are coming at you LIVE! Well, with a five-second delay because Fuzzy here looks like he had one of those nights. Care to elaborate, Fuzz?”

“(Bleep).”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. What did I tell you about those cougars, man? You do not want to get on the wrong side of a cat. Now here’s Leon with the traffic report. How do the roads look out there?”

“Empty! How do you think they look? Everybody’s got wings or four legs. Nobody drives but the monkeys. Why am I even doing this job?”

“Because your dad owns the station. Thanks, Leon. I’ve got two exclusive passes to the Halloween Bash at Dante’s bar next Saturday. I’ll take the fifteenth caller. You’re number 12, sorry … number 13 … mrawr! Hang on the line there, sweet thing, I’ll get back to you in a second – you’re what? You’re in a pack-mating? Yow! Too rich for my blood … What’s your name, man?”

“Scooter.”

“You gotta be kidding me … you’re over 18, right?”

“Huh? Yeah, I guess.”

“Oh gawd. I mean, Scooter, you are caller 15! You get the passes!”

“Sweet!”

“You betcha. If you’re not over 18 now, you will be by the time the night’s over … hang on the line so we can get your info. Who rocks out with their cocks out?"

"The Morning Hair Ball! WHOOOOOOOO!"

"Yeesh. I think that one left the den before his eyes fully opened. What do you think, Fuzz?"

“(Bleep).”

“Geez, man, what is with you this morning?”

“My mate’s been running around on me. With a skunk. A wolf I could see, man, but … gawd.”

“What, her nose is broken or something?”

“He’s de-scented.”

“Whoa. You know what they say about de-scented skunks.”

“They’re going to be saying this one’s road kill if I get hold of him.”

“Y’hear that, Flower? Your days are numbered. The Fuzzinator’s on your trail. Morning Hair Ball, you’re on the air.”

“Yeah, hey, Fuzzy? Here’s what you do with a skunk. Garlic and holy water. Works every time.”

“That’s vampires, man.”

“It is? Oh yeah … sorry, dog. I was at a catnip party last night. You try a leg trap?”

“I thought about it. They’re outlawed.”

“Oh, well, uh … ” (Hangs up.)

“Geez. I’m telling you, Fuzz, it’s waaaay too early in the morning for some of our listeners. Morning Hair Ball, you’re on the air.”

“Freddy?”

“Cerise?”

“Cripes, Freddy. What is your problem? I am not running around on you. Certainly not with a skunk. Who told you I was cheating on you with a skunk?”

“My nose told me. You’ve got that roadkill stink on you.”

“I’m a jackal, Freddy. We all smell like that. You know how many baths I take to keep that wolf nose of yours happy? The one that’s way off base right now.”

“Yeah? Explain the hairs then.”

“The black and white hairs, you mean? My sister’s visiting. Her boyfriend’s a Dalmatian. You remember my sister, don’t you? You should, you were drooling all over her last weekend.”

“Uh … ”

“Not to mention I had to get up at 5-sniffing-30 in the morning just to talk to you. I’m spending the day with my sister and all the shed hairs on her coat. When you’re ready to apologize, you give me a call.” (Hangs up.)

“Holy scat, man. A jackal? Doesn’t that get messy?”

“She’s a neat freak. I know, surprised me too. The only real problem’s getting a snack. There are never any leftovers in the fridge. Cerise, honey, if you’re still listening, I’m sorry. Tell you what, let’s have dinner tonight. You, me, and your sister. I’ll make it up to both of you.”

“Fuzz-man, listen to the tomcat. Leave the sister out of it.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I don’t get this whole mate-for-life thing anyway. Why limit yourself to one lady when there are so many out there you could be making happy?”

“It’s a wolf thing.”

“Right. Morning Hair Ball, you’re on the air.”

“Fuzzy! Dog, you are sooooo whipped. Does she lift your leg for you too?”

“No, your alpha lifts my leg.”

“Yeah? Well, your alpha licks your – ”

“Annnd you’re listening to SHFT, rock and roll in the morning. Fuzzman and I will be live at Dante’s for the Halloween Bash. Local band the Poo Pelters will be playing, and we’ll be having tee-shirt and CD giveaways all night. Plus you get to see us, Tabbs and Fuzzy, live and in person!”

“Yeah. Talk about scary.”

“Fuzz, why are you even in radio?”

“Can you picture me on TV?”

“Good point. Why don’t we liven up the morning with some Ozzy? You’re listening to the Morning Hair Ball on 105.7, SHFT. All abooaarrrd, hahahahahaha … ”

lady killer as in a wolf

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers. Ever wonder about the raw unpolished version of a story, of a scene? Well, today is your lucky day. Because that’s what you’re getting with my flash... because, heck, I didn’t have time to give it any polish, or even a proper title. And it’s a long sucker, too [but not the vampire kind of sucking].
~~~

Despair dogged her soul like her neighbor’s two spoiled rotten, yappy, oh-so ugly dogs. Muffster and Vinnie dogged her footsteps, nastily snapping at her heels whenever Karysa made the mistake of going outside while they were ‘doing their duty’.

No amount of civilized appeal ever made any difference whatsoever to the older couple. But, why for crap’s sake was she wasting her thoughts on ‘the muttsters’? It had to be a sign of just how deep her depression truly went.

Oh, jeez, was she in trouble. How low can you go? Now, the stupid lyric from the Limbo looped repeatedly through her mind.

Crud to the nth degree, what had her life become? Karysa sighed. The feathery hiss that passed between her lips might as well have been her life essence leaving. Yeah, never to return.

“So, yeah, I’m just a damn balloon leaking air... deflating... deflating,” she chanted to herself as she gripped the steering wheel harder. “Great, oh great. Where the hell is that road sign?”

Okay now, she obviously had a worse problem. “I’m lost,” she whispered.

Slowing her small car to a crawl, Karysa looked back and forth carefully, then craned her neck looking for any dots of light that meant there was a house or a small town close. Anything!

But, there was nothing. Near inky darkness surrounded her. She must have made another wrong turn while trying to retrace her route from the first wrong turn. Damn.

Oh, god, help. That’s what she got for contemplating her crappy life while driving back from babysitting her preteen nephew and two nieces -- and after listening to her youngest sister berate her on her ‘poor’ life choices.

Karysa had stayed only long enough to collect the meager amount of money she’d been promised. If the rent hadn’t been due, she would have left the moment her sister gave her ‘the look’, and opened her mouth.

Okay, depressed she might be, but Karysa wasn’t quite ready to end it all by getting lost and dead in the forest. “Lions and tigers and bears,” she whispered, rolling past tall dark trees. “Well, no tigers... but probably mountain lions and certainly bears... oh my.”

What a time to lose her cell phone. But how like her. Not like she had GPS, either. Since she rarely traveled that far anymore.

Karysa thought her eyes might be playing tricks on her when she first saw the little glimmer of yellowish light. But then, she spotted the sorta road to her right that appeared to head toward the light that was now a round glow.

So, maybe a hatchet murderer lived there. Who knew? She could see the barest outline of a building. Karysa straightened fast once she drove closer. The lit-up chrome from what could only be expensive motorcycles beckoned.

“Wow.” Inside a large clearing, Harleys and other tricked out bikes, were lined up like horses at a large long hitching post.

She sped up as a sudden attack of curiosity seized her. A bar? Out here? Karysa figured it must be one rootin’ tootin’ hellacious bar. But, right now, it was looking like her only lifeline.

Okay, she’d been hit by an ugly stick several times over, and was far from being a spring chicken... soooo... maybe there wouldn’t be a problem as far as any ‘unwanted’ sexual attention.

If she was lucky, maybe someone would take pity on her, and give her directions back to the main highway. And, well, if she wasn’t... what did she have to live for, anyway? If she was brutally honest with herself.

Karysa parked her car on the edge of the illumination, and stepped out before she changed her mind. Or her common sense got a hold of her.

A feral smell enveloped her, and Karysa wondered how close the wild animals were. Not that she anything. Not even a pair of eyes in the darkness.

Okay then. Grabbing her courage by the scruff of its neck, Karysa walked toward the heavy wooden door, her small bag clutched tightly. Yep, definitely a party of some type going on inside by the raucous male shouts.

Wait! Did she hear singing? As in a folk guitar, and a ballad?

Swallowing hard, Karysa hesitated as she reached for the door handle. No, she was going inside. Firming her chin, she gripped the large brass handle, and pulled on it with authority. She knew how to bring that part of herself out when she needed it.

Once inside, she blinked leaning against the door. It was a scene out of a Hell’s Angel movie, only not. There was something radically different she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Yeah, they all looked more dangerous than Rambo on a bad day, and several of them stared at her, scoping her out... yet, oddly she didn’t pick up any bad vibes directed at her.

And the odors. Beer, yes, leather, right on... both mixed with the locker-room smell of male sweat... but, strangely, a wet-dog like odor also hung in the air.

And, where the hell was the smoke? As in cigarettes?

“You here for a beer?” A friendly voice boomed toward her.

Karysa unglued herself from the door. Her gaze followed the all male voice that had stroked the pit of her stomach -- the deep voice that reminded her she was still a woman. Dammit.

A handsome biker type with a square jaw, the bartender gave her a quick teasing grin, then waved her over. Karysa knew she moved like an automaton toward him, through the path that seemed to magically open up.

Holy crap, if he didn’t remind her of the actor who had recently played Thor... another movie she’d missed on the big screen.

“Yeah, a beer,” she managed, as her butt thumped onto the barstool he’d indicated. Not that she liked beer. But, hey, while in Rome or in a biker bar...

“What’s your name?” the handsome-as-all-get-out Thor asked conversationally. At the same time, he whipped a tall glass beneath a tap and began filling it. The deep golden liquid foamed slightly. Good lord, his arm muscles flexed beautifully.

Did she dare tell him her real name? Well... her tongue apparently decided for her, overcoming the sudden dryness of her mouth. “Karysa. What’s yours?”

“Turbo.” The loud bark from the man on her left caused Karysa to jump slightly. “That’s what we call him ‘round here. Be careful. He’s a lady killer.”

God, she hoped he was a lady killer as in a wolf, a seducer of women. Not as in a real lady killer. As in she’d end up being the victim of...

Thor-Turbo interrupted her thoughts with a smile that was definitely a lady killing smile. After setting the beer before her, he leaned closer, and rasped, “Turbo is my nickname. Got turbo jets on my ‘cycle.”

“Oh.” Automatically, Karysa picked up her beer and tried a sip. After all, she wanted to blend in... yeah, like that was going happen. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting that.” With the arch of his brow, she continued, “I mean, it’s really good. I don’t usually... but, I appreciate your... uh, whatever, I’ll pay.”

She’d started to open her bag when he sexily rumbled, “On the house, little honey.”

Little honey? Now that threw her for a giant ole loop. After she’d mumbled a polite ‘thank you’, Karysa took a draw. She’d never tasted any beer like this. The closest had been some apple ale she’d tried at a Renaissance festival.

Straightening, Turbo turned that overly gorgeous body of his slightly, then hollered, “Marlow, I’m due a break. I’m taking it now.”

“Got ya covered,” a husky voice shouted.

Karysa could barely believe it, when he faced her again, bent and propped himself on one elbow. His gaze was certainly disconcerting. Dark eyes that leapt with flame studied her.

“Tell me all about yourself.”

Karysa froze inside, iced to her core. Every expectation of what could occur was shattered by one blow of Turbo-Thor’s hammering come on. What the hell?

Was she reading him right? Was it a come on? Okay, his gaze didn’t waver. His eyes flamed higher. He waited.

“I...” She took another swallow, hoping to help her parched lips. “I only... only need...”

“Need?”

Hormones she’d forgot she had, exploded, firecrackered into existence. She perspired. Her breaths came too fast. She clutched the glass too tight.

“Yeah.” Karysa almost choked on the word. “I... uh... want to know how to get back to the highway. If you could...” She halted at the raw intensity of his expression. As if he wanted devour her whole. Eat her up with lust.

“Want,” he repeated, his tone on the edge of rough. He moved back a few inches when she stilled, the glass held midway between the bar and her mouth. “Sorry, little honey, let’s try this again.”

Again?

“I’ll show you the way to the highway once I’m off duty. For now, just talk to me, Karysa.”

The way he said her name made Karysa want to crawl onto his lap, kiss him senseless, and do anything and everything he wanted. But, what the holy heck was wrong with him? Was the bar lighting so poor he couldn’t see she neared senior status? Maybe his eyesight wasn’t that good.

Quivering inside like an awkward teenager, Karysa managed another drink of her beer. “Sure.”

“What do you do for a living?” he asked, as if they’d met for the first time at a social event.

“Down and out writer. And damned depressed about it right now.” If she hit him between the eyes with the truth that might turn off his weird attraction to her. “Do you have another job other than bartending?”

He smiled as if she’d just asked him the trillion dollar question. “I’m filling in tonight. Dante asked me,” he paused briefly, “he’s the owner of the bar, and my cousin. Used to be a bartender up Chicago way. These days, I work security.”

“Security. Where?” Karysa didn’t stop staring at his longish dark blonde hair, streaked with a gingery red color. She loved it.

“I’m supposed to be asking the questions,” he teased. “Several us own the land around the bar, and I patrol the perimeter.” Bending at the waist, he reached beneath the bar, then placed a bowl of peanuts before her. “They’re organic,” he tempted, a decided glint in his dark-as-coffee eyes.

“Organic. Who can resist?” Karysa tried one simply because she knew he wanted her to. But, it was so good, and she was hungry. So, she popped them one by one into her mouth, and savored.

“What do you write?”

Yep, here it came. The Question. The one she rarely had any satisfactory answer for.

She began to blush, the heat crawling up her neck to her cheeks. “I write romance novels.” There, she’d said it. Let him chew on that one. Of course, she hadn’t said ‘erotic romance’.

His speculative gaze roamed her face. That, then the hot flare of his eyes caused her too look away quick. “You’re published, aren’t you?” he asked, a moment later.

“Yeah, but no big deal. Besides,” Karysa hauled in a breath, and stared at the remaining beer in her glass, “my career is likely over. Such as it was.” Oh, why not spill her guts? Really, what did it matter? And he was a bartender, after all. “Seems as though I can’t connect with readers anymore. Or,” she let a sigh escape, “not well enough. Not enough of them. Not that I don’t appreciate each and every one of them. I do. But, it could be I’m not writing the type of story they want to read. You know, the hot genre trends. Okay, my latest book is selling. But, not like I hoped. Oh, what’s the use? I’ve always been different. Too different. Yeah, I know. Being a bartender you’ve probably heard that a million zillion times. ‘I’m different’, the person says to you. But, I say so what? It’s true. I’ve been this way my whole life. And, it feels like a curse. Always on the outside looking in, that’s me. And, I’ve always written out of the box... on the edge. I can’t help it. It’s just who I am. This time, though, I went too far. Crash, boom, right over the edge... dammit.”

Karysa lifted her beer, and drank to hide the despair written on her face. “And that’s not the worst of it,” she continued after plunking the glass down a bit too hard. “My writing has been hit and miss lately, meaning I can’t settle on one story... and... oh,” she moaned. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Spend the night with me.”

“What?” Oh, yes, she was most definitely in shock. Yes, triple whammy shock. Unless... “Do you mean you want sex?” Karysa heard the utter disbelief in her voice. Feeling the affects of the alcohol -- she was so not a drinker -- she waved her arm. “There are lots of beautiful women...”

His hands clamped on her upper arms, dwarfing them, stopping her words. Thor untamed, she thought, as he hauled her straight up, and onto the bar, so fast her head reeled.

Stunned, Karysa heard the glass fall over, smack the polished wood. His kiss crashed against her lips. Hot. Ferocious. Not to be denied.

And wild. Like a beast who had to have her.

Yet, with an expertise she found thrilling, he slowed his kiss, sensuously savoring the texture and shape of her mouth. Karysa tried to kiss him back, offering what she could. And he took. More, he ruled her lips with a dominance she’d dreamed about, but had never known.

It crossed her mind she could write about this. Would write about this. Then, all thought ended. There was only the feel of his lips and her lips dancing together in a languid frenzy of passion. Never mind, it was the kind of passion she’d desperately sought, and never found.

Breaking their mouths apart, finally, he growled, “Say yes.”

Huffing breaths like a complete wanton, her heart turbo-charged, Karysa whimpered. She wanted to say yes... oh, yes, Turbo. But, she couldn’t. The words remained stubbornly stuck inside her.

“I can’t...I mean...how can I believe this is happening?” Teardrops formed at the corner of her eyes as her emotions welled, then burst inside her like a sudden storm. Karysa didn’t voice them. She couldn’t. She wasn’t certain she could even identify them.

His fingers sank into her hair, tugging until her face was beneath his gaze -- his penetrating, I want you gaze the one that seemed to find her soul, then demand her surrender.

“I’ll make you believe, little honey. By morning, you’ll be saying ‘yes’ over and over again.”
~~~~~~

Have a Magickal Week!

Savanna

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

The Love Wolfess Joins the Cast

Happy howling and yowling New Year, shapeshifter lovers. Come on in. It’s nice and warm inside this den, especially with The Love Wolfess, a new cast member, and long-time resident of Talbot’s Peak.

The Love Wolfess

Sozchy rolled on her side, trying to ignore the insistent knocking, then clawing on her front door. At Devon’s pleading whimpers, she released an exasperated sigh, then punched her pillow.

Scat city, the spoiled whelp! It was nearing dawn and she needed to sleep since she had a new radio gig going at Dante’s pleasure club as The Love Wolfess, advice for the lovelorn shapeshifter.

Devon pitifully whined, and her stupid tender heart got the better of her. Sozchy groaned, then grrrrred at herself as she sat up. “Yeah, it’ll probably get me caught in an effing spring-loaded trap one of these days,” she muttered.

After swinging her feet to the floor, Sozchy shook her head, clearing away the cobwebs of sleep. Her sable hair tumbled down her back in waves, then pooled over her hands as she pushed upward. Groan-growling again, she shoved her bare feet into her sheepskin slippers, a gift her mother had given her from her last kill.

As she padded toward the door, Sozchy shouted, “I’m coming...no, I’m not, you preppy cur.”

“Guilty,” she heard Devon’s muffled admission through the door.

Grabbing the lightweight coat hanging near the door, Sozchy slipped it over her comfy don’t-need-a-male, but want-a-real-alpha PJs. After belting the coat tight, she sniffed just to make certain it was Devon. Werewolf habits were a good thing in her survival book.

Cracking the door, she peeked out. Cat-tail humping Devon, her ex from many moons ago, stood with one hand shoved deep in his designer jean’s pocket. He leaned on his arm, propped above him, and gave her a you-saved-my-hide grin.

For an instant, Sozchy stared at his golden-wolf good looks. His dark caramel locks were as stunning as ever, falling close to his broad, speed-explosive shoulders. Devon was one of the fastest wolves in the pack.

He raised one brow while his dark eyes glowed a gorgeous amber. “Let me in...?” he paused, “I need some advice from The Love Wolfess.”

“Yeah, right. I bet you haven’t read ‘one’ of my columns for the G&B Gazette.”

“Nope. But, the maids devour it every morning. I get the digested version.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “How about some private advice?”

“If it was only advice...pampered pup.” Giving her hair a careless toss, Sozchy stepped back to let him enter.

He sauntered past her as if he gripped the world by the snout. Though, Sozchy could tell by his subtler gait, Devon was deeply troubled. It was why his whining had gotten to her.

She’d heard whispers at the club that the Tiger Yakuza threatened Talbot’s Peak, even a rumor his sire had sniffed their stripey asses in his psycho-lust for more power. Given that, Sozchy had to wonder if Devon had come to confide in her, as he had during their cubhood together.

Before shutting the door, Sozchy scented for any ‘unwanteds’ around her cabin home. Relieved to find nothing, other than the faint smell of fucked feline on Devon, she moved inward. “Early morning visit to prove your mounting studliness to daddy wolf?” she mocked.

Devon pivoted, smooth and powerful, to face her. “Yeah, babe, you know my sire,” he quietly growled. “You are planning on coming to my find-a-mate party?”

“Nooooo,” she sang, her fangs wanting to show. “It isn’t on my social calendar.” Sozchy studied him as she folded her arms across her chest. Tightly.

“I sent you an invitation.”

“Yesss,” she exaggerated. “So?”

Like a suddenly deflated balloon, Devon slumped into her favorite chair. Not looking at her, he hunched his shoulders as he leaned forward and gripped his hands. “I’m in cave deep scat.” When she said nothing, he continued, “It’s my own dingle-ball fault.”

Knowing Devon behaved like an inbred poodlehead as a way to rebel against his sire, Sozchy remained silent, and waited for him to spill his guts. Just the way, they sliced open the guts of the prey they’d killed together. So long ago.

“I’m in love with her.” He rose up slightly, but still didn’t eye Sozchy straight on. “I knew what she was, is.” Restless as a hunted and circling wolf, he moved, but didn’t get up. “I played dumb with her. Now...” he howled softly, “I don’t want her to know.” He swallowed back a whimper. “I don’t want her to know, I knew.”

Devon launched upward, and grabbed the back of his neck. “Lycaon, Sozchy. She was so beautiful.” He gazed at her now, the agony of his heart obvious. “I didn’t want to...have to...have to kill her.”

“Kill her?”

“I seduced her. Or, let her seduce me.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. We seduced each other. And, it was good. So damn fucking good.” Devon snagged a breath. “It’s still good.”

Sozchy’s fangs practically gnashed, but her training as a counselor took over. She arched her brow. “Want to get to the fang endpoint here?”

“She’s an assassin for the Tiger Yakuza...”

Sozchy collapsed now, into the winged chair close to her fireplace. “Scat, you bonehead. And, I mean both bones.” She managed to glare ferociously, once she shook the hair from her face.

“Yeah, scat. I know.”

“What advice do you want? How to dump an assassin? How to handle an in-heat tigress? What?!”

Devon had the grace to look like a wolf in sheep’s clothing as he gazed at her. “I was hoping you would cover for me at my party. Pretend we are about to be mates.”

Sozchy felt her jaw drop. She saw through feral eyes. Still, she spoke with icy calm. “I’m not acceptable mating material according to your father. Remember?”

Devon gave her a bit of his usual cocky grin. “That’s the good part of this plan. A little show of son versus sire defiance at my party, by showing up with a she-wolf who doesn’t meet Daddy’s approval.”

“Yeah. Watch the fur fly in one direction. While the fur is humping and flying in another direction.”

“You do understand.” Hope lit his eyes.

“When don’t I?” Recovering her spine, Sozchy hopped up, and paced. “Just how is this supposed to work? Other than I end up fighting off a jealous professional assassin with claws like blades, while ‘daddy’ targets me for an unsporting run through the woods.”

“No worries about my tabby. She knows you’re only a friend.”

“Tabby,” Sozchy muttered, then snarled at Devon.

“She approved of this plan. Look at this way. You’ll be saving another she-wolf from her assassin’s claws.”

“Oh, this is beyond the kill. She doesn’t know you know she’s a Yakuza assassin, but she ‘approved’ this plan.”

“Then, you will...” Devon went for her jugular, as in her heart.

“Only to keep a huntress eye on what’s happening. For the sake of Talbot’s Peak.” Sozchy faced him, hands planted on her hips, her human fangs bared. “I won’t show throat to your father. And, you better make certain he doesn’t send his pack of brainless curs after my hide.”

“I’ll let him know it’s off between us. He won’t have a reason.”

Sozchy tilted her head, all she-wolf attitude. “You should know White Fang Kent is a friend. I understand he still has Daddy’s limo.”

Somewhat to her surprise, Devon barked and yipped with laughter, even holding his sides. Finally, his butt hit the raised stone platform before her fireplace, large because she slept on it as wolf.

When he looked at her, his eyes glittered with amusement. “Yeah, babe, the Fang tracked me down to warn me about the Yakuza. Let’s just say, we came to an understanding. I even gave him a few meaty bones to chew on about Daddy’s empire. And, promised him more. A promise I intend to keep. Looks like we might be on the same side.”

“Like we used to be,” Sozchy murmured. “So, whelp breath, when do you plan to tell your tigress the truth?”
~~~~~~

The Kougar’s news ~

If you enjoy blog hops and want the chance to win a Kindle, I will be participating in one on January 1-2. Here’s the beginning addy ~ booknibbles.com ~
~~~~~~

~ HAPPY HOWLING NEW YEAR ~

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

White Fang Kent, Crime Reporter

White Fang Kent, Crime Reporter

White Fang Kent scanned the online version of the newspaper taken over by a wolf pack he considered to be irresponsible enough to be a danger to all of wolfkind. Especially his wolfkind.

He had no problem if they presented their features and articles as ‘tongue dripping against cheek’. As werewolf fantasy. Truth, he found it damn hell refreshing. But, with the full humans in possession of devastating fire power and still in fear of anything paranormal... well, 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 tails. No, it appeared as though, this 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 frowned, and figured his brow looked like an aerial view of the Grand Canyon. 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.

“Not subtle enough,” he growl-muttered. Not at all. He set the mug down with a clank, but not hard enough to splash his electronic window-on-the-world equipment. Lykouz! What he wouldn’t give for just a pen and pad at times, and the coffee stains be damned.

Too often, 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, 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 guts-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 bitches in heat for a mate.

White Fang arched his brows, then they took a leap for the ceiling. 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, his landlady had settled her yellow-gleaming gaze on his lap package, then licked her lips as if they were her wolfen chops.

To his sometimes amusement she’d invited herself in for coffee and bone meal biscuits, several times. 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 for the role he played in public. He’d pretended to be the geek shifter klutz of the century, 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.

One aimed fist between her eyes would knock her out cold and leave her with a nasty headache for about a week’s time. White Fang drained his mug, glad his landlady had decided to quit leaning on the doorbell.

Mooney McMahon, sports reporter...his gaze narrowed as he read.

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 town. 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.
~~~~~~

~ HAPPY SUN IN SCORPIO SHAPESHIFTING ~

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Living with My Black Wolf Shapeshifter

So far, so good... fingers crossed, toes crossed, eyes crossed... whatever it takes, I’ve been living with my Black Wolf ShapeShifter, Duke, and I’m making some good progress on his love story with my heroine, Sondra.
A successful script writer in LaLa land, Sondra is burned out and has taken refuge at her best friend’s isolated house on the edge of Custer National Forest in Montana.
And, howls to the first quarter moon, do I hope the penning of their story continues at a steady pace.

This is where I am currently ~

Duke, my black wolf hero shifter, has been through a life-threatening chase while in his wolf form. Now, he’s trying to find any kind of safe place to recover. Meanwhile, Sondra is wired and can’t sleep. She’s being lightning-jolted by some unknown force among other creepy happenings. Plus, her intuition is zapping her, letting her know her life is about to undergo a major change.

Unedited snippet from my WIP ~ THE BLACK WOLF’S PROPHETESS

Surprised by the light beaming from the window at this late hour, Duke moved into a limping trot letting the slice of radiance lead him as if it were his own personal invitation. Detecting only one human with his nose, he concentrated on reaching the house so he could shift--the closer his proximity, the better his chances for survival.

As he neared the house, Duke slowed to a painful amble, and sniffed deeply again. Instead of scenting whoever was inside, a metallic stench burned the inner flesh of his nostrils. His muscles bunched powerfully in reaction, readying him for battle.

The goblin emerged in full form, it’s hide a dull shine as it nearly jumped from the misty ethers. Grinning menacingly, the disgusting creature stood directly in his path.

Duke focused on the meatiest portion of the goblin’s scrawny body, so he could sink his fangs in and shake the creature until it’s bones rattled.

With it’s red eyes glowing ever more brightly, the goblin advanced, a tiny mocking fist on it’s skinny hip.

Flattening his ears, Duke growled ferociously, and prepared to hurl himself at the flesh-eater.
~~~~~~

The Kougar’s news and mews ~

BRANDED BY THE TEXANS ~ Sliders meets Bonanza, then meets The Three Star Republic of Texas or Kylie and her three cowboys, Dillon, Dono and Dash ~ is scheduled to be e-released in August 2010 by Siren-BookStrand and then print-released in February 2011.
~~~
A Shout Out for my own Aristocratic Fantasy Erotic Romance Novel ~ ALL SHADES OF BLUE PARADISE ~ this is the two year anniversary ~ here’s a snippet in the book about the setting of Baron Zaggry and Lady Sheridan’s love story.

World of the Blue Pearl Moon – A world of lush erotic decadence, where the fiercest passions between a woman and a man need never be denied. A world of potent seductive arts, where every appetite is served in the salons and the lavish entertainments. A world of wicked and resplendent pleasures, where the love between a man and a woman is a sensual lusty affair, soaring up to the radiant blue vault of sky.
~~~~~~

If you haven’t already, take a look at COYOTE MOON by Pat Cunningham ~ Can a half-werewolf woman, unaware of her wolf nature, come to love the WereCoyote determined to free her wild side and make her his mate? ~ http://bookstrand.com/pat-cunningham ~

ALSO available: BEST OF BREED by Pat Cunningham ~ “Confidence breeds beauty, no airbrushing required” ~ http://bookstrand.com/pat-cunningham ~

AND! A LONDON WEREWOLF IN AMERICA by Pat Cunningham ~ “There’s no way the pushy wolf and the vegetarian witch can get along, or so Darinda tells herself.” ~ http://bookstrand.com/pat-cunningham ~
~~~~~~

HAPPY SHAPESHIFTING MARCH!

~ MAY YOUR BRIGHTEST, MOST ROMANTIC READING DREAMS COME TRUE ~

Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Author of ~

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

Reeling, not Squealing... I finished! Wahoo...

Reeling, that’s the sensation... because finally, finally! I’ve finished writing and polishing BRANDED BY THE TEXANS... no, I’m not squealing with excitement yet, even though, yep, I got the manuscript submitted. Wahoo...
I don’t know if this is true for other authors, but usually I go into a type of shock or surreal feeling of not quite believing I did finish and submit. I feel off kilter, airy inside. Does that make any sense?
Though, when the edits arrive, it all becomes too real. Suddenly.
I’m assuming... hope, hope... that everything will go well, since this particular book was contracted. But, still, ya never know.
Yeah, I’m verra happy with the way the story turned out... I love my heroine, Kylie, who turns out to be one tough cookie when the chips are down... and, of course, I fell in love with her three heroes, Dillon, Dono and Dash.
The truth is I’m tingly-excited and thrilled about their love story... and, most important to me, I’d want to read the book if I hadn’t written it.
Okay, maybe I’m being conceited here. Still, I only write erotic romance novels I want to read.
And, nope, this one is not a shapeshifter story. Though, of course, Kylie and her Texans shift in who they are... they all grow in several ways. And, after all, if you found yourself in another Earth dimension, like Kylie does, where the Old West still lives... or Sliders meets Bonanza, then meets The Three Star Republic of Texas... you’d adapt and grow simply to survive.

Here’s the blurbie so far ~

It’s 2009... Kylie is on the run from the law for a crime she didn’t commit. She’s desperate for a safe place to hide. A promising doctoral student, she’s lost everyone and almost everything, except for what she can stow in her car. Now, Kylie has to salvage the rest of her life. But, where? In this age of GPS tracking, TV’s Most Wanted and cameras everywhere.

It’s 2009... Dillon, Dono and Dash, three Texas brothers are desperate for a wife to brand as their own. The Union made women scarce in the Three Star Republic by releasing a bio weapons’ plague during the border wars. These tough-as-leather Texans will do anything to find and keep the right woman, even if they have to lasso her like a wild filly and love on her until she loves them back.

Yes, I’ve always wanted to write a Western with a Happily Ever After. Now, I’ve done it, complete with a monster pickup chase scene and an ambush bang-bang shoot out where death isn’t a stranger. And since it’s an erotic romance... the dang doors are ripped right off.
~~~

So, what comes next? I think I hear the howling of those wolfies. Looks like Sondra and Duke may finally get their love story... unless... life is definitely unpredictable at best. But that’s my current goal, the inspiration or the muse tugging at me and touching my heart.
Plus, I have a couple of other projects in mind, novella-sized stories. I hope. Since Branded is well over 110,000 words. And I need a break!

Speaking of Werewolves... anyone seen the new Wolfman movie?
So far, I’ve heard one individual say they hated it and another say they loved it.

BTW ~ what are your fave Werewolf/Wolf movies, TV shows and/or books?
~~~~~~

REMEMBER... if you haven’t already, take a look at COYOTE MOON by Pat Cunningham ~ Can a half-werewolf woman, unaware of her wolf nature, come to love the WereCoyote determined to free her wild side and make her his mate? ~ http://bookstrand.com/product-coyotemoon-14959-330.html ~

ALSO available: BEST OF BREED by Pat Cunningham ~ “Confidence breeds beauty, no airbrushing required” ~ http://bookstrand.com/authors/patcunningham ~
~~~~~~

HAPPY SHAPESHIFTING!

~ MAY YOUR BRIGHTEST, MOST ROMANTIC READING DREAMS COME TRUE ~

Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Author of ~

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

And you thought this would be about Valentine ShapeShifters...

Nope... why?
Okay, because my brain has officially become mush. Fried mush, most probably. There are WAY too many things happening at once in my little author’s realm.

Yes, February 14, 2010 ushers in the Chinese New Year and the Year of the Metal or Golden Tiger! 2010 is predicted to be a tumultuous year, but the Tiger's influence will offer us courage, while inviting bold actions and risk taking. The Metal element will provide steely resolve, fortitude and determination to accomplish goals.

So, if you want a taste of Valentine Shapeshifting claw-click on over to my blog, The Tiger Romances Valentine’s Day ~ at HAPPILY EVER AFTER ~
~~~~~~

For the past several weeks, the Tigers and Wolves have been battling for my writerly attentions. If you want the clawing and howling details check out my personal blog ~ Kougar Kisses ~

For this post, here’s an *X-rated* rough draft of how my black wolf shifter hero, Duke, came into existence, originally.

Late news flash ~ I’d already written this blog when I heard the song, Duke of Earl, as bumper music for Coast-to-Coast am, nighttime radio show... well, my hero, Duke mentions this song in his story... yep, synchronicity strikes again.

Note: This is written in OtherTime lingo, not current language, that is.

From my WIP ~ The Black Wolf’s Prophetess

The first kingdom of Atlantis ~ 202,366 days after The Arrival on the blue planet, Earth

Shellah, Second Princess of the Fauna Originators Dynasty, rubbed her bare upper arms against the slight chill of the evening air. Restless, worried, she stepped forward, leaning on her balcony wall for support. Scanning the splendor of the dark teal blue sky, she was aware she substituted the strength of the alabaster stone for the support she didn’t feel inside herself, from her own True Spirit. Yet, in sacred truth, was there any other choice for her?

She was the only one qualified, the only genetic-creator knowledgeable enough to succeed in the human-animal split project, as decided upon by the Earth Salvation Council, after years of study and divisive debate-battles. Shellah blinked, her eyes overly dry from her unshed tears, the ones she could no longer cry. Crossing her arms again, she gazed at the bright-shimmer beauty of the two satellites in rotation with each other. In low orbit, they provided a harmonic balance for the planet, regulating the great oceans.

She sighed softly, hearing his footsteps approach. She hadn’t meant to awaken her lover by leaving their shared bed. Why burden him with what could not be undone? Or with the pain constantly spiking through her heart over what she was about to accomplish. Shellah owned no doubt she could genetically fulfill what had been decreed as the wisest protection for their paradise world. After all, she and her team had already populated the planet with new species of mammal life, currently flourishing for several generations now.

“D’markos,” she gently murmured his name, just before his arms wrapped around her from behind. Comforting, yet with the passion that always flowed between them, a beautiful raging current.

“The animal split project?” he asked, the tender huskiness of his voice soothing her. He caressed her arms, then floated caresses over her loins. “You know, my sweetness, I have dwelled long upon which animal form I would choose.” His tone lightly teased her, and waited for her playful response.

“Dwelled long and with utmost deliberation, I am to believe,” she lightly returned, allowing him to lift her heart to more lightness. Gently she stroked her palms over his hands. “Which one, my lover?”

“Why the one most suited to your voracious libido, my fierce lover.” His voice growled passion near her ear. “And the one most devoted in his protection and love.” His lips brushed down the rim of her ear, causing sizzle-tingles of desire to roam her flesh.

“And no doubt a beast to match your primitive hungers...lover,” she challenged, her voice low and breathless. Sensually Shellah leaned back into his hardening embrace, her body molten.

“A canine beast,” he whispered, nipping her ear lobe. “Guess which one.” He swept long strokes down her hips and thighs, his hands sliding the sheer red fabric of her night sheath over her skin.

“You ignite my woman’s pleasure,” she whispered. Sparks of desire swelled her mound. Reaching back, Shellah twined her arms around his neck.

“Which one?” he demanded. His hands skimmed over her breasts, circling and teasing. When she didn’t answer, he nipped her earlobe with his teeth.

Pain and pleasure raced down to the jewel between her thighs. “Tell me,” she pleaded, her hands passionately caressing the back of his neck. “Tell me, and join with my womanhood as pleases you. My beast.”

“Wolf,” he growled, the potent sound of his voice was the potent strength of his phallus cradled between the cheeks of her bottom.

“Wolf.” Shellah flowed her fingers through his wild mane of hair. “The same color as your hair. Black as night before the first red rays of dawn.” With her dancer’s grace, she turned in his embrace. His warrior’s body hard against her softness, intoxicated her to the blazes of lust. She was met by the jet black hunger of his eyes. His eyes glittering for her. “Wolf and Man,” she murmured. “Is that what you would be when we love each other ferociously?”

“Your Wolf and your Man.” His lips seized hers, so boldly she could only swoon and cling to his shoulders.

With furious kisses, they gradually moved within her chamber. Their hands were frenzied strokes over each other’s bodies as he guided her toward their enormous silken bed.

“Shellah,” he hoarsely spoke, capturing her head between his hands. “I’m here. Here with you.”

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes so glazed with desire she could barely see his face. Merely the deep celestial blackness of his eyes. Yet, she knew what he meant. He wanted to be allowed into her life, more than she’d been willing to allow him so far.

Closing her eyes, she moaned with sensual bliss as both of his thumbs glided down her throat. As if he sculpted passion, his hands slid over her shoulders, his thumbs caressing her collarbone. Their lips fused again, the sweetness and the fierceness of their kiss lifting her toward untamed pleasure. Shellah collapsed against him, her body liquid-sun surrender, wanting only whatever he chose to give her, as her lover.

Roughly sliding down her red sheath, baring her, he claimed her waist lifting her to the savagery of his mouth on hers. How well he knew, she adored his primitive nature as much as she adored his tender caring ways with her. Meeting his barbaric masterful kisses with her own wildest mouth, she sank her nails into his shoulders. He groaned and growled against her lips, then nipped her bottom lip with his teeth.

Instantly he licked away the droplet of blood from her lip, then toppled them onto the bed. Cool satin briefly greeted her back. Utterly mad with passion, they rolled over the immense surface, their lips clamped in raw desire, their arms and legs lusty tangling and twining endless strokes against each other.

Growling, he swiftly rolled her on top of him, and powerfully gripped her bottom cheeks. He spread her roughly and lifted her to his pleasure. His magnificent phallus speared into her. A ruthless strike, she adored.

“Beast,” she praised, and mock scolded.

“Wolf beast,” he rasped.

“Your eyes glow for me, wolf beast,” she taunted, then struggled in his fierce grip, trying to wriggle her hips.

“You will feed my hunger,” he guttural commanded.

Thrusting her forward, he seized the tip of her breast. Suckling forcefully, he struck inside her, his rhythm so brutal and so pleasing to her, she stilled. Opening her womanhood more to him, she allowed her head to fall back.

“D’markos,” she called his name softly, as the whipping harsh ecstasy of her orgasm grew from deep, deep down inside her loins.

“Come to me,” he growled, then latched onto her other breast. Vigorously, he suckled her, carnally drinking her essence.

Obeying him, Shellah screamed, her loin ecstasy ripping her inside out. Finally, she flew on the wings of immeasurable joy. She knew when he freed her breast, that he watched her as he often passion-enjoyed, and that he would take his orgasm after hers.

“Woman,” he rasped, once she’d descended, and began slipping inside the honey gleaming after her orgasm. Keeping her tight to his loins, he rolled them over. On his knees, he towered above her, his black gaze devouring her with such intense passion, her entire body nearly shivered. When he widened his knees, pulling her closer, his grip on her hips strong and dominant, chills chased through her body, fear chills and the most pleasingly wicked chills.

“Do what you will with me,” she murmured. “As I have promised you, lover.” Feeling as fragile as the mist clouds of dawn, she offered him her truth, her helplessness.

He smoothed his hands up her thighs, a long possessive caress. Trapping her knees, he spread her wide to his desire, and lunged his blade-hard phallus deeper. She gasped both pleasure and shock. As he swiftly lunged again, her breath leapt back inside her chest.

“My Shellah,” he hoarsely sang her name. Seizing the top of her thighs, he plunged long and deep, his rocking rhythm so fierce she keened whimpers.

Bracing herself with her hands as she could on the cushiony silk of their bed, she watched his whip-lean warrior-chiseled torso. She watched the noble handsome cut of his features, harsh with her, and harsh with his enormous pleasure as he loved her with their passion.

Overwhelmed with waves of ecstasy, she reluctantly shut her eyes. Collapsing back onto the bed, she surrendered to each surge of rapture from the smooth powerful strike of his phallus.

“Lover,” he growled, his ecstasy fierce in his voice. Forcing his phallus deep inside her, he braced himself above her.

“Lover,” she gossamer-returned, her heart flowing toward him. Opening her eyes, she pleasured herself with the wild black storm of bliss glowing in his eyes.

Once the gods released him from the heights of his orgasm, he brushed his fingertips on her cheek, his obsidian gaze cherishing her.

“Wolf,” she teased him, caressing up and down his arm, his fiercely muscled arm. “As strong and savage as my Earth wolves.”

“You need sleep, my beautiful woman.” Gently and gradually, he removed his phallus, then rolled on his side. He gathered her beside him comfortably. Pressing a feather kiss to her temple, he draped his arm across her waist.

“Yes,” she whispered, “If I am to succeed...yes.”

“Promise me.” His voice was cave-deep serious as he gently stroked up her arm. “Promise me, my Shellah, when you create your Human-Wolf split, you will design the Man’s physique for me. That if we choose to incarnate in the future, I will be your Man-Wolf.”

Feeling like gossamer as she turned within his strong embrace, she pressed a kiss on his bold broad shoulder. “Yes, my lover,” she whispered against his beautiful dark brown skin.
~~~~~~

VALENTINE CELEBRATIONS ~

Starting Sunday 7th February through the 14th , heaps of Siren Bookstrand authors will be dropping in to share their own Valentines experiences and offer heaps of competitions and prizes.
So come join us and share your funny, romantic, embarrassing and disastrous Valentines stories.

Hope to see you there. :) Rachel

Paranormal/Shifter day is February 11th ~ http://groups.yahoo.com/group/SirenBookstrand
~
AND!

Don’t forget the Valentine’s Day Weekend blog tour by the Liquid Silver Authors and their author friends. Talk about Eye Candy, sexy fun and prizes. It begins here ~ http://booknibbles.com/blogtour ~ on Friday, the 12th, at Midnight.
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Oh, the Kougar is howl-luvin’ this ~

February 2010 - Seminar Host is Eva Gordon
Call of the Wild : Wolf Lore, truths and myths every writer should know about wolves

3rd -17th

A month long seminar for writers who are interested in writing about wolves and werewolves in their stories but who want more background on the basic biology and behavior of real wolves. Writers will also learn why the wolf evolved from admired archetype to savage evil nemesis of man.
~ http://coffeetimeromance.com/board/forumdisplay.php?f=480 ~
~~~~~~

Plus, take a look at COYOTE MOON by Pat Cunningham ~ Can a half-werewolf woman, unaware of her wolf nature, come to love the WereCoyote determined to free her wild side and make her his mate? ~ http://bookstrand.com/product-coyotemoon-14959-330.html ~
ALSO available: BEST OF BREED by Pat Cunningham ~ “Confidence breeds beauty, no airbrushing required” ~ http://bookstrand.com/authors/patcunningham ~
~~~~~~

HAPPY SHAPESHIFTING VALENTINE’S DAY~

~ MAY YOUR BRIGHTEST READING DREAMS COME TRUE ~

Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Author of ~

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