Mad March howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.
In last week's flash scene, our villain Damien Hancock was about to sniff out the infiltrator inside his mutant-landia lab. Well... here's the ongoing story. ~~~~~~
Werewolf and Witch By Lineage
Werewolf and witch by lineage, Sulandra, used her psi-power, listening to her grandsire, Damien Hancock, interrogate and shmooze Morloxian -- the humpy-bumpy, butt sniffer. Scat, so far she'd been able to fend off his grab-ass, clumsy advances whenever she did her own conversational interrogation of him. After all, even mad scientists had to be fed, and she'd signed on to be his personal cook.
Mammoth mutant werewolf! That got Sulandra's rabid attention. Escaping, her goal the compound's delivery tunnel, she paused in her stealthy stride.
The very instant the mafioso-like pack leader entered the underground lab's main corridor, Sulandra had realized it was time to get the effing hell out of Dodge, or in this case Colorado.
Damien's on-the-hunt scent for the infiltrator, her, hit Sulandra's nostrils like acid. She'd grabbed her backpack, then slowly wended her way through the black-as-tar labyrinth.
With her superior senses, she'd memorized the path despite being blindfolded, then allowed sight only once inside the delivery area -- larger than any warehouse Sulandra had ever seen. Suddenly low, hideous warning snarls blasted down her human witchy spine.
Yep, the hellhound-werewolf combo was on guard. "Hey, Yorgo, you're going to let me pass without a big nasty battle... aren't you?" Sulandra snatched the large ball of raw beef out of her pocket. "Here ya go," she soothingly coaxed.
Yorgo's thunder-engine growl ceased. He sniffed noisily, his blood-red nostrils like strangely moving orbs in the blackness. Sulandra hadn't been stupid enough to try infusing the meat with any drug, potion, or spell. Yorgo would have immediately known, wanting to chomp her down as a snack instead.
Sulandra gave the beef ball a toss toward him. As his jaws snapped like a wildlife trap around the meat, she scooted against the wall past his giant bulk. Yorgo emanated a poisonous odor that reminded her of a cigarette smoke-saturated motel room. With difficulty, Sulandra held her breath and stifled her urge to cough her lungs out.
She ran. From the palm of her hand, Sulandra threw a lightball -- her own witchy version of 'gps' -- having prepared it for this day. Simultaneously, Yorgo's enraged roar shook the steel and concrete tunnel. His heavy footsteps raced after her, thunder meeting an earthquake.
With adrenaline flooding her bloodstream, Sulandra sprinted faster. A champion marathoner in werewolf circles, she gained a bit of distance, even as licks of fire roasted her human butt.
No! she ordered when her wolf ferociously growled, demanding to be let loose. Sulandra still needed her human fingers to open the delivery door. That is, if the code hadn't been changed or automatically switched off.
Ouch-scat! hellfire lashed her back... but, irony of ironies, she'd been living in the lab-boiling pits of hell, alright. Charging into the short tunnel leading to the delivery entrance, Sulandra threw her force at the lightball. Instantly, it sizzled brightly, then reversed direction, flying past her.
Yorgo screamed in agony. Sulandra slowed and whipped around. Direct hit! Right between his four, monstrously big, blazing crimson eyes.
Unable to see, Yorgo crashed about searching for her by scent. Resuming her running stride, Sulandra sprinted for the control panel before...
Blinding light filled the entire warehouse-like area. Sulandra stopped in her tracks. Momentarily. Keeping her eyelids clenched so her retinas wouldn't burn, she opened her psi eyes.
"Surrender, bitch." As if he snarled through a thousand megaphones, Damien Hancock's voice pulsed around her.
"Yeah, yeah, granddad," Sulandra muttered under her breath, while rapidly touching in the code.
She hoped to Goddess moon, she didn't have to waste her supernatural powers on tripping the circuitry. Escaping Damien Hancock's formidable reach, would take far more than freeing herself from his massive crypto-monster lab.
Just as Sulandra heard the frequency hum meant to paralyze her, then jellify her whole, the thirty foot steel doors began to buzz and slide open. Whirling, Sulandra sped the short distance, then shoved through the crack.
Wintery air slapped her face. As Sulandra opened her eyes, the bright afternoon sunlight caused her to blink rapidly. She shifted to wolf 'asap', ripping her minimal clothing apart -- all while hearing humongous paws crunch over the thick layer of snow.
The mutant werewolves guarding the lab were on her trail. And no, they wouldn't be satisfied with a piece of her tail, either. The crazed beasts would shred her into unrecognizable pieces, if her plan failed.
Sulandra swiftly bounded over the ice-blanketed snow toward the cave system she'd remote viewed, but had never actually been inside. Behind her, the pack of mutant werewolves gained ground, their long running strides nearly silent now.
A cold calm replaced the fear starting to fester inside her. All she had to do was find the brush-covered entrance, then wiggle through... shots rang out!
Sulandra leaped in reaction, startled. This wasn't ordinary rifle ammo being fired. More like the sound of military style tracers combined with M-80 firecrackers.
Keeping her spy cool, Sulandra focused on the surroundings she'd memorized via remote viewing. Howls-eureka! Sliding to a halt before the outcropping of rock, she dug with frenzied paws, spraying the snow behind her.
Then, like the fiend some considered her to be -- fools they -- Sulandra yanked away the brush overgrowth with her fangs. About to clear the entrance, she heard, "I've dispatched them, my lovely. Care to go for a ride on my copter?" ~~~~~~
Wishing you love and passion on the wild side...
Savanna
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance
Pic from: ~mammoththunderpower.files.wordpress.com~
Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.
Now that Damien Hancock's secret 'doctor' is out of the closet but not out of his monster-cloning lab... well... read on.
~~~~~~
The Mutant-landia of Damien Hancock
Damien Hancock, the werewolf pack leader who had first seized Talbot's Peak, growled orders to the four betas following in his wake. "Useless curs," he muttered, as they entered his hidden underground lab located near Pike's Peak.
An unnatural silence enveloped him once the ten-foot thick steel door closed, sealing them inside. His terror campaign to rid Talbot's Peak of humans and cat shapeshifters was yet to be fulfilled, to his everlasting rage.
But Damien was a werewolf man with a devious plan. Several diabolical plans to be scat exact.
He'd be damned before showing his throat, or bowing to the genius maneuvering of his second son, Dante. A reluctant respect gripped his innards, and Damien barked a harsh growl at himself.
The cat-licking, human-loving renegade cub -- who favored his dam and had been corrupted by her soft paw -- countered his every move like a master chessboard player but with deadly-attack strategies when required. Dante could fang-rip out the jugular with the best of them.
He'd learned that much from his sire.
Damien smirked, then reminded himself he owned the last fang-ruthless move. Toothy grinning, he sauntered slowly, studying Morloxian's latest army of demon-eyed killer beasts.
Behind a specialized, black-ops grade of plexiglass, on both sides of the ten foot corridor, mutant werewolves occupied huge cubicles. Frozen in a state of stasis, the hideously formed beasts could be activated, loosed on an unsuspecting enemy -- or any population -- at a moment's notice.
In anticipation, Damien grinned, his lips thinning over his protuding fangs. As he understood the mad scientist's explanation, originally Dire wolf variants had been infected with a dinosaur-ravaging virus discovered in the depths of the Amazon jungle. Of course, Morloxian constantly added his own evil-genius refinements to the gene-bubbling brew.
Recently he'd included the murderous instincts and superior agility of Jackals and Hyenas. Morloxian's gleeful recitation of the process still echoed inside Damien's head, the memory like a B horror movie but without the humorous silliness he enjoyed on occasion.
As he watched the steel door slide open, Damien girded his loins, preparing himself for the offal stench of the mad-dog scientist. Morloxian remained in a perpetual state of half shift, and no matter his attempt to cleanse himself, the odor stuck to him like fresh tomcat scat.
"Sir." Morloxian glided forward in his strange gait, offering his deformed paw-hand, the one with the unusually long and dextrous fingers.
Random patches and tufts of werewolf fur covered his 'bright as a billiard ball' bald head -- and his body as Damien had been a witness to once. Pained howls to hell, once was enough, as the inane saying went.
To his credit, Morloxian always wore an immaculately clean white lab coat. Damien resisted the urge to howl a laugh as he briefly embraced the lumpy monstrosity within his semi-morphed hand. Whiskers sprouted haphazardly on the scientist's Boris Karloff like features, giving him a cartoon-comical appearance.
"Impressive," Damien growled, referring to the stasis army of mutant werewolves he'd just viewed.
"You ain't seen nothing yet," Morloxian joked in his cracking-odd voice. He waggled his mismatched brows, bushy brows that should only have belonged on a grizzled old mountain man.
"Show me. Are the funds in order?" Damien thought to ask. A happy mad scientist was exceptionally, insanely creative, as he'd learned.
"More than sufficient, sir. My team has made good progress on those samples you sent of the horse-altered mutants. Although, magick is always a tricky beast to define, and incorporate into the genetic matrix. However," Morloxian stretched his thick, semi-twisted mouth into a smile. "I assure you it can be accomplished."
"I have every faith in your ability. That brings me to one reason for this meeting. I have word from a trusted source... one of your team is an infiltrator." Damien let the rest of his thought hang and blow in the mighty wind of his alpha power, while keenly observing Morloxian's reaction.
"Could you be more specific, sir?" Nothing but respect shone in Morloxian's very human eyes. "You vetted, and have the dossiers on every one of my assistants."
"Yes. So, I do," Damien widened his lips into a smile of acceptance, given the emotional fragility of the werewolf-bitten human. "Why don't you take me on the grand tour? The nose knows. Sniffing out the scat vermin could be quite entertaining for all of us. And," Damien enticed, "give you more useful genetics to play with... perhaps, even a cure."
Morloxian frowned, only enough to demonstrate his point, not as a challenge. "I no longer care about a cure for my... ah... condition, sir. I've come to enjoy my franken-wolf state." He smiled like a jester fool atop a king's hill. "Some females seem to enjoy my 'extra' prowess."
"Yes, I can imagine." Damien clapped his 'ace' against Dante on the shoulder in an intentional human gesture of affection. Such bonding created loyalty, as he'd learned over his lengthy life. "How is your harem?"
A red stain spread over Morloxian's face, then the bald areas of his head.
"No need for words," Damien growled in a friendly manner. "Show me your latest project. Then, we'll sniff out the infiltrator, and have our fun."
"Mammoth genes," Morloxian burst out. "They're all over the black market now. I was able to secure a viable set. You should see the prototype I've created."
Damien wickedly glittered inside with the possibilities of such a formidable creature. "A mammoth mutant werewolf?"
"With tusks that can take out any military tank," Morloxian enthused.
"That does take priority..." Damien envisioned the 'out of the bowels of hell' damage he could wreak on Talbot's Peak proper... on Dante's fortress, the Pleasure Club.
~~~~~~
Wishing you romance on the wild side…
Savanna
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
~~~~~~
Pic from ~coasttocoastam~ while not a horse-beast, it is a beast just in time for Halloween at Talbot's Peak. Beware...
Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.
Halloween
is hot on our heels, and about to breathe down our necks. And, yes! as I
mentioned last week, we will be part of a Halloween blog hop. Lots of
spooky fun and goodness, along with prizes, and a grand prize for one
lucky winner.
Okay then, the fair shapeshifter town of Talbot's
Peak has been overrun by horses, all due to a misplaced impromptu spell
by one of the Peak's witches, the beautiful blue-haired Marissa. Yep,
all galloping heck has been released. So, where is this breaking story
headed now?
Read on... ~~~~~~
...transmuted into enormous horse-beasts...
Dante
raised his hand, a signal to silence his motorcycle posse. He and his
biker buddies were blood-fierce to roundup his sire's pack of mutant
werewolf henchman. Because of Marissa's angry spell they'd been
transmuted into enormous horse-beasts.
Unable to shift, they ran
amok terrorizing anyone or any animal who crossed their path. On the
good side, Dante reminded himself, there'd been no serious attacks, no
devouring. Yet. The horse-beasts were so crazed at their magick-induced
condition they unceasingly stampeded as a herd, following the forest
trails and racing over the high prairie.
"Are you certain your powers are strong enough?" he asked the newest witch to make her home in the Peak.
From
the back of her stallion shapeshifter, Sibelle regarded him with her
unusual, icy gray eyes. "I am certain. Again, do not concern yourself.
Zharkol possesses the speed to follow in your wake."
Dante gave a
quick nod. "Let's roll," he shouted, hand-signaling his werewolf
brethren. He roared his purring engine, and within moments they sped
over the old back road.
The thunder of their bikes trembled the
brisk Autumn air. Dante hoped the night-ripping sound wouldn't spook the
beast mutants into a further madness. Knowing the ugly herd of
misshapen horses now crossed an immense stretch of prairie land, he
planned to give chase, and figure out a way to trap them long enough for
Sibelle to perform her sorcery.
Around them, the full moon,
the Hunter's Moon, brightened the dense forest. Dante's blood howled
through his veins. The wildness of the hunt seized hold of him, and he
tightly leashed his wolf. As did his crew. He felt each one of them to
his primitive core.
Soon enough the road would run out. Then he
and his posse would leap from their bikes and morph, bloodthirsty wolves
on the hunt. Yeah ~ferocious effing growls~ more like sheepdogs wearing
wolf coats rounding up mutant werewolves wearing the conjured body of a
horse.
Only in Talbot's Peak.
****
Sharla heard
the distant sound of striking hooves. Immediately, she lifted the night
vision binoculars searching for the horse-beasts. Leaning forward, she
raised higher and tightened her thighs around Zoronado's sides -- or her
Zorro in his black stallion form.
Scouting for Dante, they
stood high above the prairie on a flat rock outcropping. Since meeting
Zoronado and becoming his human lover, the yen for adventure had only
grown within Sharla.
"I see them," she reported in a hushed voice.
'Tell me the direction of their stampede, my beauty,' Zoronado mind-spoke, 'I will mentally inform Dante.'
Sharla
instinctively drew in a sharp breath, shuddering inside at the mutant's
hideous bony appearance. "They do look like the devil's spawn... sort
of like an evil warhorse. There must be at least fifteen. Good gawd!
Okay, they're running due southwest."
'A moment or two while I report your sighting. Then we will be about the chase.'
Unable
to do anything else, Sharla stared through the binoculars, transfixed
as the horse-ghoulish herd raced closer. The moon might as well have
been a giant spotlight on the 'straight out of Halloween hell'
creatures.
Sharla jerked in breaths, and nearly dropped the binoculars. She sat flush with the saddle, and didn't move.
'What is wrong?' Zoronado instantly inquired.
"Their eyes... their eyes turned neon blood-red."
'Ah, yes, beloved. Such mutants often display that characteristic,' Zoronado soothed. 'Shall we return home?'
"No...
no. Dante needs our help." Sharla gathered up her courage as she
gathered up the reins. "Tallyho," she voiced, given that was the only
word she could think of, and force through her stiff lips.
'The gun,' Zoronado reminded. 'I will not move until--"
"I've
got it," Sharla interrupted her swashbuckling lover. "Are you certain
this will stop one of those beast things dead in its tracks."
'I am certain. Although, the mutants cannot be killed, the force of the blast will drop them.'
Firming
her spine and her mouth, Sharla reined a willing Zoronado onto the path
that led down to the prairie. "Tallyho," she shouted, and brandished
the advanced-tech weapon.
****
Diamond, stallion
shapeshifter and cowboy, launched from his shadowed position beside the
rock outcropping. He followed Zoronado and his woman as they galloped
after the horrid-smelling beasts.
Despite the equine appearance
of the mutant werewolves, Diamond refused to think of them as horses. He
blew their rank sulphurous stench out of his nostrils, and flattened
his racing stride.
Catcher, his longtime pardner, joined in the
chase from his position. The two them ran in sync, then flanked Zoronado
forming a wide wedge. Dante had insisted on this plan in case of an
injury to one of them, or the need to protect each other.
Still
out of their werewolf minds -- assuming mutant werewolves had minds --
the herd stampeded over the prairie seemingly unaware they were being
chased. Large clods of dirts and grass sprayed through the air from the
pound of their monstrous hooves.
'Dante has contacted,' Zoronado mind-spoke. 'I believe he and his biker wolf pack are now a mile behind us.'
'If
Dante and his crew are fast enough,' Catcher telepathed, 'there's a gap
in the rock outcropping large enough to trap the entire herd.'
Not a split second after Catcher mind-spoke, Diamond heard Zoronado mentally shout, 'Shoot! Shoot the beast, my Sharla.'
Maddened red eyes struck them like huge, twin laser beams. Foam streamed from between the beast equine's badly shaped lips.
One of the mutants had spun around. To their advantage, the nightmare creature appeared to be fatigued.
Diamond
watched Sharla steady her aim and fire. She kept firing as Zoronado
galloped at an even pace, his head low. The silvery blast struck the
sorcery-disguised mutant werewolf between its hell-red eyes, then
streamed, penetrating it's mammoth chest.
Finally, the unnatural creature dropped to its shield-like knees, toppled over, and didn't move.
TO BE CONTINUED... 'cause it's way past my bedtime... ~~~~~~
Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side…
Savanna
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance
Pic from COAST TO COAST AM ~
Painting: Late Night Encounter
Toronto
based artist Shawn Pascuttini (spascuttini@hotmail.com) shares this
painting he created while listening to Coast to Coast.
~~~
Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.
First, apologies to everyone. I had planned to continue last week's flash scene, Someday My Wolf Prince Will Come.
However, fate and my muse intervened. Enter, the Mutant Werewolves. One is pictured above and was discovered hiding in plain sight on the COAST TO COAST AM website.
Yes,
Damien Hancock, the powerful werewolf alpha responsible for taking over
the town of Talbot's Peak, has a new unholy pack he's hired. Not only
is Damien planning some realistic Halloween mischief... not only is he
planning on 'disappearing' his enemies... but, for the rest of story --
so far -- keep on reading.
~~~~~~
From the Kougar’s Writing Den ~
Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys
'Unedited' Chapter Sixty-six ~
"Dang
it, pard, we're in Mayor Link's sights. What does that chimp shifter
want now? We don't live in Talbot's Peak proper. And I ain't endorsin'
him no how. Not over Vernon, one of my own wolf kind."
From the
corner of his eye, Zance saw Sherilyn quickly glance in Lance Link's
direction. "I thought he and Dolly were splitsville. Although, I didn't
pay much attention to all the talk at the coffee shop, because who
really cares?"
"Downright entertaining, their temporary breakup,
if you like slapstick." Dontoya chuckled in his rumbly way. "Me and
Zance happened onto the scene."
"I'm headin' the Mayor off at the pass, pard. Why don't you seat our mate, and I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail."
"Countin' on it, pardner."
Zance
paused only long enough to see Dontoya take hold of Sherilyn's elbow to
assist her up the steps to their table. Guldurn it, her shapely figure
encased in that glamorous, slinky gown nearly knocked his eyeballs out.
She
was the most gorgeous woman ever created, and Zance mentally thanked
the Goddess Moon that his wolf juice had saved her that fateful day, and
now ran in her veins forever.
Most important though, Sherilyn
belonged to him and Dontoya. Even more important by his reckoning, her
heart embraced them both.
Zance strode through the burgeoning
festive crowd, meeting Mayor Link and Mrs. Link near the edge of the
highly polished dance floor.
"Happy new year, Lance. And, Dolly, don't you just shine this evening, beautiful and lovely as the full moon."
After
giving him an audacious wink, Dolly presented her gloved hand, so heavy
with the weight of her gemstone-loaded rings, Zance had to wonder if
this had been Mayor Link's way of paying for his sexual transgressions.
He
pressed a kiss on the top of her hand in an old-fashioned tribute to
her womanhood. Dolly excused herself then, and departed with a rustle of
her stiff satin skirts.
"Something I can do for you, Mayor?" Zance covertly studied Link's expression, but he'd put on his poker face.
"It's what I can do for you and Dontoya. What I have done to be precise." Link's large dark eyes remained inscrutable.
"Mayor, I ain't too good at playing these kind of politico games. If you got something to say, spit it out."
Link
rocked back on his heels, and with confidence oozing out of his pores,
he hooked his thumb in his waistcoat pocket. "I understand via the
grapevine your mate Sherilyn Wingate, isn't it -- was struck with deadly
force, and you came to her rescue."
"That's right. Both me and Dontoya." Zance gave Link his one-eyed stare, and waited.
"Can you identify who was behind the wheel?" The Mayor raised a bushy brow, his gaze bright in that alpha way of chimps.
"Nope. Not which one was drivin'. Only know who the truck belongs to, and saw who was in the passenger seat."
"I've got one of the Brady boys sitting in the pokey right now. Seems as though he confessed to swiping Ms. Wingate's pickup."
Reflexively, Zance stepped into his gunslinger's stance. "When?"
"Last night, during a drinking binge."
"Know I saw Tom Brady through the passenger window. Smelled him too."
The
Mayor gave a slight nod of his head. "I'll have Tom Brady brought in
for questioning on your say so. If the Sheriff gets something out of
him, I'll need you to testify. You and Dontoya, if he saw the same.
Agreed?"
"Yep. You and the Sheriff get the goods, and me and
Dontoya will play it that way. Let justice take its course." On second
thought, Zance added, "Won't be able to testify about how I saved
Sherilyn, though."
"Nothing in the public record. Understood. We'll work out the details beforehand."
"And?" Zance asked at Link's telltale hesitation.
"Some
of us in Talbot's Peak want to keep the town friendly for both shifters
and humans. To put it in plain terms, I need backup."
"I got no problem with that."
"Figured
as much. To my knowing, you and Dontoya have never been anti-social to
any species." Link rocked back, his expression turning grave. "Got the
word today that Damien Hancock is in a howling rage over how Talbot's
Peak is changing -- all the newcomers, but mostly anyone with human blood."
"Yep, ole bloody-tooth Damien has gotten too big for his
werewolf britches. Ever since he and his pack took over The Peak and
nearly made Miss Kitty roadkill. What's 'he thinks he's the king of
mountain' up to?"
"Damien and his top lieutenants are planning
terror raids. Got that from a reliable source. But," Link's ears
twitched, a sign of his nervousness, "rumor has it he's hiring
mercenaries, a mutant werewolf pack."
Zance chilled with 'psi-knowing', and his hackles raised painfully. "Mutants?"
"According to Sergei they look like a cross between a Hollywood werewolf mated to one of those cryptid goat suckers."
"Chupacabra?"
Mayor Link nodded as if they were only discussing the weather.
"Did Sergei say if his tiger Yakuza boss, Shere Khan, knows anything about these werewolf mutants?"
Lance
cracked half a smile. "Sergei said when he reported his sighting, Shere
Khan made some Confucius type of joke about summoning the Teenage
Mutant Turtles."
"Well hell, grease yer guns, cowpokes. Ain't
nothing like a Yakuza varmint with a sense of humor." Zance shook his
head at what he was learning.
"Shere Khan has taken his claws
out of our fair town for now. Thanks to you and others. But, he's
sitting pretty like a fat tick on a lazy bloodhound, just biding his
time."
"I reckon that's true." With his thoughts racing, Zance asked, "Talk to Dante about his sire's nefarious plans?"
"No,
not yet. Why spoil Dante's grand opening of the supperclub?" Lance
glanced around. "A world-class achievement. Me and the misses call it
hoop-di-doo elegant."
"World-class is damn right. I ain't been
in these razzle-dazzle surroundings for quite a span of time." Zance
shot his gaze toward Dante briefly, having caught his scent. He and his
lovely Kitty were moony-faced gazing at each other. "Yeah, why spoil his
romantic evening? It'll hold."
"Good evening, White Fang, Ms. Pasha. Happy New Year," Mayor Link intoned in his official, I'm-your-friend voice.
"Happy New Year, Mayor, Zance." The super wolf and his cat goddess paramour echoed each other's words.
"You two boys are looking particularly serious," White Fang continued. "Something I need to know about?"
"Are you here with your reporter's hat on?" Lance demanded, his tenor still oily with friendliness.
Zance
watched White Fang's small grin form. "It's off for this evening,
Mayor. But, don't tell Nick. I have him fooled into believing I'm always
investigating the next story."
Mayor Link rolled his eyes to
the left, but didn't move his head. "Nick's already eyeballing us from
clear across that half-a-football-field sized dance floor." Lance's brow
wrinkled like a chimp as he whispered, "And with his extra sharp
hearing..."
When the Mayor's words faded, White Fang's deep blue
eyes subtly twinkled with humor. "Nick's werewolf nose for news is
telling him, 'Flash! Front-page headline'. Quickly followed by 'every
copy sold'."
"No worries, gentlemen." Pasha slinked closer to
White Fang, resting her hip against him. "Ziva has Nick by the collar,
and she's whispering naughty promises in his ear." She spoke in her slow
sultry voice, the one that always riled Zance to hot and ready.
But no more. That was reserved for Sherilyn.
"You're
surely right, Ms. Pasha." Zance gave her a wink. "Nick is followin'
Ziva now, and lookin' like a stud on a short leash."
"Like I was telling Zance, rumor is..." Mayor Link began.
"Tell
you what, fellas, Ms. Pasha," Zance interrupted. "I'm itchy as a
flea-bitten mutt to get back to my mate. Mayor, me and Dontoya will back
you up. White Fang, ole buddy, we'll be attendin' the get-ready
meetings like always."
"Congratulations to you and Dontoya on being mated," White Fang offered, his tone genuine.
"Yes,
congratulations, and blessed be your union." Pasha glowed, and with his
psi-eyes, Zance observed her golden essence whirl, then surround him.
He gave her a slight nod of thanks.
"Your mate, she is Ubarion, is she not?" Pasha smiled, the Egyptian cat goddess who captured any canary she wanted.
Zance
answered with a lopsided grin. Figuring the Ubarion cat was now out the
bag anyway, and a cat goddess would know the truth, he drawled, "Close
enough, Ms. Pasha. But we're keeping it under our hats."
"Of
course," Pasha met his gaze squarely, and Zance witnessed the strength
of her sacred force. "I will not speak of it. However, if your mate
would care to know more about her heritage, I will happily speak with
her."
"Enjoy the evenin'." Zance spun on his heel, and like an eagerly panting stud, he strode toward Sherilyn.
Why
should Donny-cat get her exclusive company tonight of all nights?
Mentally growling, Zance quickened his pace to a near trot.
Dammit!
What did that beta, Mooney, want? Zance curled his lips in a silent
snarl as Mooney waved him over, then moved like a linebacker to
intercept him.
Was the beta werewolf sniffin' for a story? Could
be, since Mooney and Nick, the editor of the G&B Gazette, were
brothers, and the beta had been the newspaper's sports writer.
Zance
couldn't recall if the siblings were still on the fang-ripping outs
with each other. Not wanting to make a stir at the supperclub, he
reluctantly slowed his steps.
Where was Mooney's dang,
good-looking little mate with the blue hair? Marissa, that was her name.
Yep, that sweet human witch surely kept Mooney on love's leash.
Zance
took advantage when a passing waiter presented a tray holding glasses
of bourbon straight up. At least, his usual good luck showed, and right
on time, even if he was missin' time with his precious Sherilyn.
Waiting
for Mooney to charge through a group of vampires, dressed impeccably in
tuxedos, Zance took a healthy swallow. He savored the mellow tempest of
flavors as the bourbon slid down his throat.
That was Dante for ya. Always the best whenever he could get his paws on it.
"Reach
for the ceiling," Zance muttered about his eyebrows as they raised
high. The werewolf's playboy-handsome mug was contorted by an urgent
expression, and his eyes shone darker than normal.
"What's stickin' between your fangs, Mooney ole son?"
~~~~~~
Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side…
Savanna
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
~~~~~~
