Welcome to Agua Caliente

Jackson looked both ways before following Remo into the dark interior of the bar.  A bold lettered yellow-stenciled sign took up two-thirds of the window of the interior door, Remo held open.  It read Agua Caliente.  Jackson understood enough Spanish thanks to his great grandpappy twice removed.  That family story crept up at family dinners when Cousin Felix drank too much tequila.  Jackson shook his head and continued on inside.

Remo rounded the bar, nodding at the blond wiping down the table closest to them.  “Sandy, get a couple of burgers from the kitchen.  Mine well done and yours?”

Jackson swallowed hard.  Remo was politer than most alphas Jackson encountered.  Experience sent chills down his spine warning him to be wary.  Still this wasn’t turf he knew and a much different species than the one he left back on the peak.  

“Uhmm- - -“Jackson perched on the barstool near him.

“Look dude, you look hungry enough to eat a goat raw.  Sandy would appreciate it if you didn’t hunt her down tonight during the full moon.  Besides good help is hard to find.  And eating my business partner will get you in more manure than you need right now.”  Remo finished filling the large beer glass he’d taken from under the bar.  “I don’t know about your home.  Here we treat folks with manners and hospitality". Remo slid the glass across the bar to Jackson.

“Make mine like his.”  Jackson picked up the glass, saluted Remo with it, and drank.  Nothing unusual about the beer.  Draft with a head on it and cold just the way Jackson liked his.  “Thanks.”

Remo watched Sandy give Jackson the once over before she shook her head and walked into the kitchen clucking her tongue.  He turned. Leaning on the bar, he motioned Jackson closer.  “Dude, let me give you the rules.  Then we’ll commence with intros.”

Jackson drank more beer, then nodded.  He knew when to keep his wolf yap shut.  Being a distant second cousin of Talbot’s Peak’s head wrangler held no restrictions.  In fact, more often than not, some punk wanted to pick a fight to whoop ass to show he was wolf enough to fight the current pack alpha.  Jackson stayed away from pack politics.  He didn’t even acknowledge his family bloodlines so trouble couldn’t find him as easily.    Whatever Remo had to say, Jackson would listen to and then decide how to eat his burger and clear out of town without causing a ruckus.

“One,” Remo began.  “When a pack female gets pregnant the pack rejoices.  Two, if we know who the daddy is- - -Hi Daddy.”  Remo pointed at Jackson and waved.

“If we know who daddy is we give him the options.”  Remo’s smile reminded Jackson of the pictures of the old bobcat his great grandma tangled with during her moonshine running days.  That wry smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes and yet told you sit still before shit happened.  Jackson kept nodding and swallowing more beer.

“Slow down on the brewsky son,” Remo advised.  “Need your wits about ya before the food arrives.”

“I hear ya,” Jackson said.  “Please go on.” He pushed the glass away from him.

“Okay, third, you got choices.”  Remo laid a sheet of printed-paper on the bar.

“Choices?”  Jackson reached for the paper.  Remo snatched it away.

“Hear your options out.”

Jackson arched his eyebrows.  “Go on,” he softly growled.  He didn’t like threats.  He smelled one coming.

Remo tossed back his head, laughing, howling, and laughing again.  “Feisty!  Good!  I like variety.  You’ll make a good addition.”

“A good addition?”  Jackson planted his feet on the floor, ready to defend himself.

“Your options are:  flee, fight, stay, or join the pack.  Even a combination thereof is welcomed.”  Remo tossed the paper at Jackson.  “See I’m not a bad s.o.b.  Just an overly protective alpha who wants to live in peace with my neighbors.  Not find pieces of my family, friends, and pack all over the place.”

Jackson glanced down at the paper he trapped against the bar with his hand.  What Remo had summarized read down the sheet.  Two blank lines stood out near the bottom.

“And these are for?”  Jackson gestured at the blank lines.

“Signatures.  Yours and mine.”  Remo laid a pen on the bar.  A sharp point projected from one end.  “Your signature indicates you’ll abide by the rules.  Mine says I accept your choice and decision.”

“And if I don’t?”  Jackson stood up ready to make a break for the door if necessary.

“You’re welcome to stay but. . .”  Remo raised the pen.  “There’s an unattached attractive female carrying your youngin’.  Do you want another male claiming her and the babe?  Or are you wolf enough to do your duty?”

Jackson held out his hand.  Letting go of Abebi would cut out a huge chunk of him.  He didn’t know if he could walk away.  His heart skipped two beats every time he even considered it.  “Give me the pen.”

Remo snickered.  “Ain’t no pen boy.  It’s a prick.  We sign in blood. Our pack lives by our blood oaths regardless of our origins.”

Jackson inhaled deeply.  He held out his finger, gritted his teeth, and waited.  Sharp momentary pain pierced his index finger.  Bright red blood welled up and over the tip, on to the paper.  Remo handed him the pronged pen.  Jackson scribbled his name boldly across the first line.  

“Good choice mate.”  Remo held out his hand.  Jackson pricked the finger closest to him.  Remo grabbed the pen and signed below Jackson.  “Now about that job.”

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Happy Weekend Gang!

Before we know it fall will be upon us.  Enjoy the latter days of summer as the season progresses toward its end.  Be safe with all the wild fires, storms, and unusual happenings going on out there.

It seems Jackson has signed on for more than he bargained for.  Who knows what job Remo is talking about.  Let's hope it isn't the singing waiter.  Jackson will be howling more than crooning I bet.

Remember to share a good book or two with your loves and spice.

SOLARA

Home and Hearth Are Where The Heart Is

Jackson pushed his Stetson back further on his head.  So much sand and water.  He glanced down at his bare feet.  His name brand jeans rolled up to mid-calf greeted him as his eyes continue upward.  In his left hands, he held his battered cowboy boots.  

“How the friggin’ shit did I end up here?” He winced at his words along with his tone.  He knew how he got here.  It still didn’t make any sense.  Not that magick and wishes made sense.  He’d followed his heart and her.  Love did weird things.  He didn’t know how weird until he met her.

Jackson sighed as another wave swept inward, stopping near his sand covered toes.  It felt good to be out of his boots.  The sun warmed more than his neck and hands.  The heat off the sand caressed his tired worn soles and moved up his legs trying to cajole him into laying down and pulling all the warmth inside.  His heart beat almost in time to the rhythm of the waves pounding the shore with each lap of their strength.  

Two blocks up the center street of town, Abebi worked.  Her small shop catered to the locals and their artisan ways. 

 Easels and paints filled one part of the storefront.  Midway bins of multi-colored chalks, art pads, and crayons took up one side.  In the back corner, a child-sized table sat with different sizes of coloring books strewn upon it.  Opposite it, racks held adult paint sets and complex artistic instruction books.  Near the cash register, where he’d seen her as he’d watched her through the window, easy to do items lined the shelves.  Her hand written sign offering half hour art lessons caught his eye.

Abebi rang up the largest sale of the day.  The grade school’s summer art program began in two weeks.  They came to her for supplies every year.  

 This year they wanted her to teach a weeklong course on how to follow your heart through art.  The instructor smiled when Abebi stuttered and stammered.    She sketched and dabbled in watercolors.  Nothing of fame or even local interest.  She drew, painted, and colored for her own enjoyment.  After the instructor explained why they wanted her to teach, she’d agreed.  Too many of the children didn’t understand following their passion and letting their creativity out.  Some of their parents could barely afford to pay the rent or put food on the table.   If for a few hours a day, she could help the kids ignite their heart light and find a moment of value, she’d do it.

She looked up and caught his reflection in the window.  Jackson had found her.  Not a bad thing.  How she wasn’t sure.  Two full moons prior they’d run through the pastures and woods of Talbot’s Peak backcountry hunting nothing but each other.  Their howls joined the other wolves racing through the area mate hunting.  She knew those nights of passion were just that.  Passion come and gone---or so she thought.  No he’d followed her home.  How she wasn’t sure. 

Abebi’s hand caressed her flat stomach.  A tiny flutter joined by another told her what those nights summed up to.  Shape shifters knew instinctively when they caught.  Pregnancy mattered amongst the natural shifters.  Jackson’s family was one of those.  Hers no one knew.  Mutant and mutt were the kindest words whispered about her before she’d escaped the pack that pushed her out. Talbot’s Peak was but a stop on her journey to find her home.  She’d found it here amongst the sand, sea, and sun.  The local pack of sea wolves didn’t care where she originated or how.  They co-opted her in shortly after they‘d discovered each other running in the foothills.

Sea wolves loved the beach, the sand, and the sea as much as they loved running through the hills.  Many speculated on their breed and origins.  One legend stood out in their lore above all others. Two lone wolves, male and female, found each other.  Their first full moon together, they’d morphed into Native Americans counterpart. Each told their story.  As the night progressed, their howls and yaps brought others to them.  The others told their stories and why they had no pack.  By the first tinges of dawn, a new pack formed.  All agreed each had their worth, their beauty, and their purpose.  None were without a home or a hearth to call their own.  

Abebi found hers with them.  Jackson might too.  She didn’t know.  She wasn’t sure if his howled love song that night was real or faked.  His presence said maybe it was real.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy Weekend Gang!

I hope you are enjoying summer.  We're busy around the spice homestead working, reading, and enjoying each other's company.  Our octet morphed into a quintet for now. People come in and out of your life for reasons we sometimes don't understand.  They're wished well on their journey.

Remember to keep a book or two handy to share with your spice and loves.  

Solara

Fangbanger II: Love's a Bitch

Gina raked her predatory gaze over both the customers and the staff of the coffee shop. As she’d feared, pickings were slim. Her first choice of hunting ground, Dante’s Pleasure Club, had ended up on the fiasco list. Her efforts to boost her age through make-up hadn’t fooled the bouncer at the door. The son of a mutt had carded her, noted her birth date, and turned her away with a condescending grin and a snide, “See you in two years, honey.”

Hump him. Hump him and Dante and the legal drinking age and Dane, her pack’s alpha, and especially the Stone Age law that said only alphas could mate. She wasn’t a puppy any more. She was a full-grown beta bitch and she wanted a date, dog damn it!

With the Pleasure Club out of bounds, she moved on to Rattigan’s, only to find they wouldn’t let her in either without a legal-age escort. But that’s the point, she’d wailed at the obstinate squirrel. I'm trying to find one. I’m not even going to drink. The squirrel remained adamant. He threatened to fetch Louie, the owner. Since the rat outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds, Gina was forced to once again take her hunt elsewhere.

So here she sat, looking for action among the dorky and over-caffeinated. Gina growled into her mint-chocolate latte. How was a bitch supposed to get laid in an omega crowd like this?

Two tables over a pair of human shes sipped twin espressos and giggled. “I could go for some fang,” the blonde loudly announced.

“You bet,” the even blonder one chimed in. “A nice big wolf. Or a really hot vampire. Where are you, sweetie? We’re here and we’re ready to rock.”

Just great. Competition from monkeys. Why couldn’t they just stay in the trees and eat fruit like they were supposed to?

Nobody took them up on their offer, which spoke volumes for the taste level of the males in attendance. All the better for Gina. She was trying to decide whether to approach the jackrabbit in the biker jacket – normally she didn’t go for herbies, but the rumors she’d heard about rabbits intrigued her – and the trim young cougar in the athletic shoes when the door swung open. She caught his scent before she saw him.

Busted. Scat.

All six lickable feet of black-haired, golden-eyed Brody Lawrence stood beside the door with fists clenched and nose working. Gina had known Dane wouldn’t personally trouble himself over some runaway pup. However, she’d hoped for a different dogcatcher than Brody. Dane’s beta couldn’t be swayed by whined entreaties, pouty lips or licks to his dimpled chin. He was devoted to his alpha. She wondered if even the scent of a bitch in heat could entice him away from his duty.

She wasn’t the only female in the room to take notice. The monkey girls practically wet themselves. “Vampire,” Blonde proclaimed. “Werewolf,” Even Blonder insisted.

Gina bared her teeth. Of course he was wolf. How could even a simian mistake a wolf for some corpse-reeky bloodsucker? One only had to watch him move, with that confident, determined stride, to know the difference.

That confident, determined stride had brought him to her table. He took her by the wrist. “You set quite a twisted trail, puppy,” he said in his low, musical voice. He had the most melodious howl in the pack, always right on key. “I applaud your evasive skills. However, that’s over. Time to come home.”

“I’m not a puppy.” Gina lifted her latte cup. “And I’m not done yet.”

“Yes, you are.” His tone crushed both her statements. He tugged on her wrist. “Let’s go.”

Gina hung onto the table and stayed put. Stubbornness wasn’t solely an alpha trait. Inspiration hit her, and her snarl reversed itself. She’d been on the hunt for a handsome male and one had just fallen into her lap. Literally, if she could manage it. She simpered up at him and batted her lashes, as she’d seen the shes do around Dane. “Why not join me? It’s only a cup of coffee for a couple of minutes.” She broadened her smile, her meaning unmistakable. “My treat.”

“Nice try, but no. Dane wants you home, where it’s safe.” He leaned down and murmured in her ear, “Don’t make me get out the leash.”

Gina blanched. He’d do it. He’d haul her out of here in a collar like a recalcitrant puppy. Brody was a stickler for rules. Her face flashed from white to red. Hump that. “I’m not going anywhere with you until I’ve finished my coffee. You can like it or lump it.” She raised her voice for the benefit of the shop’s other customers. “Do you even like girls?”

Ah, now that expression was worth any punishment he or Dane could dish out. As intended, Brody now became the center of everyone’s attention. Gina grinned. See how he liked a dose of public humiliation. The blonde monkey girls, halfway to their feet, exchanged stricken looks and slumped back onto their chairs.

Uh-oh. His eyes had gone hard as topaz. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed that particular button. His lips skinned back, revealing the heavier-than-human canines that marked a were. One of the blondes squealed, and not in a c’mere-and-bite-me-big-boy kind of way. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Meekly Gina rose. The coffee shop’s blue-haired barista planted herself in their path. “Any trouble here?” she said. She spoke to Gina, but watched Brody. The ape slid her hand into her apron pocket. Anything could be in there, from mace to a gun. Nothing in there would mean anything good.

Brody put on the knee-weakening smile he could turn on and off at will. “My sister. She’s out past her curfew.”

“What he said,” Gina agreed. She knew her own golden eyes would support the sibling story. She added a petulant, teen-agey pout for good measure. Brody’s eyebrows climbed. So did the barista’s, but she let it, and them, go.

Gina’s compliance lasted only until they hit the sidewalk. Then she yanked her arm from Brody’s grip. “I’m not a puppy, you know,” she snapped. “I’m over eighteen. I’ve had my first heat. I may not be old enough to drink, but I’m legal for everything else.”

“I know,” Brody said, with a growl in his voice that pricked up her ears. He tried to mask it by adding, “You should also be old enough to understand why Dane has such restrictive rules. It’s for the safety of the pack.”

“They’re stupid rules,” Gina complained. “It’s why half the pack’s swishtail.” Especially Dane, she suspected. He always picked young, good-looking males as his betas. Brody certainly fit all Dane’s requirements. Including the most important one? Her mouth curved partway upward. “You never said which half you howl with.”

“That’s not your concern. Only the alpha gets to mate. That’s how it is in a wolf pack, and that’s how Dane wants to keep it. We don’t want to clutter up the woods by whelping litters right and left. We’ve got enough problems keeping our kind secret from the monkeys as it is.”

No chance of chance litters, Gina thought sourly. Not with Dane in command. But not everyone in their pack followed his orders to the letter. She didn’t, for one. And, she figured, neither did by-the-book Brody. His flushed cheeks, his sultry growl, that shine of sweat on his upper lip, and the way his scent had just hiked told her he was no leg-humper. Hadn’t the whole point of her one-night rebellion been to find a suitable male?

She didn’t resist when he herded her up the street. She even took his arm, and was pleased to note his scent hiked again. Only alphas mate, huh? Well, beta rank was just a step away from alpha. They were practically the same thing. She deliberately brushed against him, and caught a whisper of that ragged, randy growl before he swallowed it.

Gina grinned to herself. Game on.

Dominance and submission

Many of us write about shapeshifters that become animals with clear cut hierarchical dominance structures...wolves, cats, and even horses.

Usually though it's the male who is the dominant. He leads the pack or the herd. With my wolf shifters, I followed this "natural" dominance structure...mostly. In my world, though, females can be pack leaders. They can be alphas over males, but it's a tricky line to walk without emasculating the male character or making him appear weak.

This fine line can be handled well though. I haven't really read a lot of shapeshifter characters where the female is the dominant of the pair but I've read some awesome BDSM stories where the female dominant is strong (without being a bitch) and the male retains his strength. My favorite author for this is Joey Hill. I read Natural Law and was bowled over by her characters and how even though the male was the submissive, he wasn't weak or wimpy in any way.

Another author I've read recently who handles this well is Michelle Polaris. I read her m/m/f menage story Bound Odyssey and it blew me away. Mira is a strong dominant woman with believable flaws. The men, Roman and Jace were all strong and interesting. I loved all three characters and the complex relationship between them.

Do you enjoy stories that feature female dominants or do you prefer your males alpha and in charge? Do have have any favorite BDSM stories? Please share them with us!