Run, Just Run...

Ziva peeked out her office door and noted the placement of each person left in the bullpen.  It was close to quitting time and this being Talbot’s Peak office hours were very informal.  There was always someone taking off out the side doors and shifting for a much needed run.  Today it appeared that most of the employees had left early and wouldn’t see her traipsing down the hall with her gifts for Nick.

“Everything okay, Ms. Wilk?”

“Oi, ah, I mean oh Bull you startled me.”

“Sorry about that I didn’t mea…”

“No-no, not your fault.  Yes, I’m fine.  Are you taking off then?”

“I am.”  The big moose looked longingly at the door.  “It’s too nice to be inside today.”

“It sure is.  Good day for a run…or a, well, lumber.”

Why was she so nervous?  She wasn’t doing anything wrong, well, not yet anyway.

“Yep, it sure is.  ‘Night Ms. Wilk.”

Bull walked away and Ziva grabbed the zipped up garment bag and shoebox.  She squeezed through the door and made a quick dash down the hall to Nick’s office.  Seconds later she was inside with the door kicked shut and a sexy alpha wolf in human skin looking back at her.

“Need me that bad, sweetheart?”

“Yes, no, yes, but not like that…well, exactly like that.  First though, I have a gift for you.”  Ziva draped the bag over the desk in front of him and set the box on top. “Here.”

“Clothes?”

“Yes, kind of.  Trust me, I’ll like it ah, I mean you’ll like it.”  With a kick to the desk leg she growled at him, “Just open the damn thing, please.”

Nick unzipped the garment bag and pulled out the suit, giving it a look and her, a raised eyebrow.  Holy Lupa he already sported her favorite Dr.’s awesome expression and the extra-low cut sideburns, she wondered if he’d cut his long locks short, just for a while.

“A brown suit with blue pin-stripes?  Dark shirt, a tie with squares…is there going to be a bowtie as well?”

“Yeah, great isn’t it…the bowtie comes later.”

“And a trench coat?  What’s going on, Ziva?”

“Check out the shoes…”

She was giddy with her find and couldn’t wait for him to try everything on then take it off to fuck her.  Shoot, why kid herself, she needed him to bring her off while still wearing the clothes and more than once.

“Ankle high Converse tennis shoes?”

Ziva shivered at the thought of it all coming together on her man’s bod, but couldn’t miss his snarly face.  “Would you consider cutting your hair?”

“No.  Not just no, no way!  And no more Who marathons.  We are getting rid of that damn movie service.”

“Oh sweetie, that’s so not happening.”  Ziva ran, laughing.  Nick gave good chase, but she was quick on her feet.  Their play was fun and exciting, the adrenalin pumped through her veins and made her even more determined to get him into the clothes.
~~~

 So Darling Diva and I have finished all of the new(2005 and later) episodes of Dr. Who and we loved it!  All the Dr.'s were awesome, but DD and I personally adore David Tennant.  Sexy, Scottish and clothed in a suit and tennies - Yum!
May your weekend be filled with a marathon of your favorite Dr.!

Serena

How to Entertain Wolf Pups on Summer Break

How to Entertain Wolf Pups on Summer Break 

“I’m bored.”
Marissa cringed at the slightly whiny tone in Thor’s voice. She looked at the calendar and mentally counted how many weeks she had left until her little darlings went back to school. Too many, she thought with a sigh. Bringing the boys in to Java Joe’s every morning until either Mooney or Lex could pick them up had worked fine for the first few weeks of summer vacation but now Thor, the social butterfly of the two, had met every single regular and learned everything there was to know about each. Loki, on the other hand, was fine so long as he had a sufficient supply of reading materials.
“How about some arts and crafts,” she said as she wiped down a table.
“I don’t want to do arts and crafts,” Thor moped. “You already have a boat load of my art hanging on the fridge.”
“What if I commissioned you to do something real?” Marissa asked casually, watching the larger blond twin out of the corner of her eye. He perked up at the sound of “commission.” Then she noticed that Loki put his book down and look at her as well. She bit back her smile.
“What kind of commission are we talking here?” Thor asked. This time Marissa couldn’t bite back her grin. That boy was just entirely too much like his dad.
“Yeah,” Loki kicked in. “Is it the going rate or will it be a bigger project?”
“Mom said it was for me, bookworm,” Thor tossed at his dark-haired, smaller brother.
“You have no head for contract negotiation,” Loki said, setting aside his book, the newest in the “Theodore Boone, Kid Lawyer” series. “As your attorney on record, it is my responsibility to ensure you do not enter into any unfavorable deals or accidentally sign away any artistic rights to your original art work.”
“What you mean,” Thor cut in, trying to sound sarcastic, “is that you want a cut and since you can’t draw stickmen, you’re going to try and ride my coat tails.”
Marissa watched the ongoing debate between her boys with mixed humor and dread. They were only eight years old and they were making perfect sense. Their teenage years were going to be interesting, she suspected.
“Ok, Mom,” Loki finally said. “What kind of commission were you offering my client?” Marissa bit her lip. This one, the thinker of the two, was so much like his Uncle Nick it wasn’t funny. Seeing Loki and Thor together gave her all kinds of insight into what her mate and his own brother had been like as kids.
“I could use a new tip jar,” she said with a smile. “The current one is kind of plain.” Loki and Thor got up and walked over to the counter, nodding their heads and stroking nonexistent beards on their smooth chins.
“I accept,” Thor said eagerly. Loki bopped the back of his head and he yelped. “What?”
“Payment terms?”
“Oh,” Loki said looking sheepish.
“What were you planning to offer in compensation?” Loki asked.
“Well, I was thinking I could pay you, say, a trip to the candy store for a down payment and then some unlimited ride tickets to next month’s fair?”
“SOLD!” Thor crowed before ducking the swing he knew Loki was going to aim at the back of his head. “What kind of tip jar art were you interested in, Mom?”
‘How about you make me a few designs and I’ll pick the one I like best.”
“Or we can set all the tip jars out and let the visitors choose by which one they put their money in!” Loki said, finally dropping his kid lawyer shtick.
“Sure,” Marissa agreed, nodding and silently prying this wouldn’t back fire on her.

(See below for a selection of tips jars the boys’ put forth)

Thor, the Artist’s Contributions:

 

Loki, the Non-Artistic One’s Contributions:

 

 

The following Tip Jar submissions were made anonymously. Marissa wanted to get rid of them, but they seem to be winning the tipping contest, and Loki said that getting rid of them would be rigging the results, possibly opening her up to accusations of favoritism and perhaps a law suit…

   

 

Tigress Shapeshifter ~ ferocious to chase and attack...

New Moon howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Here's the next episode of my ongoing flash. Kytaira, my tigress shapeshifter, and Zurroc, her black tiger man, are on their way to heist the food that was denied to Oklahomans by the border guards.
~~~

Minimal violence ahead...
~~~~~~

Tigress Shapeshifter ~ ferocious to chase and attack...

On top of the moving truck inside my invisible jet, I activate the power. "Time to rock 'n roll."

The slightest whir of sound lets me know all is performing well. "It's a go," I say to Zurroc on the jet's com system. Before leaving New York, we hooked it into the truck's radio.

"At the first sign of trouble..." My black tiger man leaves the rest of his low growly words unspoken.

"I'll set you down real soft and easy," I croon like a sassy tail.

"That's gonna cost you, tigress mine. Next time we mate."

"Only if you can catch me," I whisper, my tone pure enticement.

"Go. I don't want to be dropped in the middle of the morning rush hour," Zurroc rumbles in a deadly serious voice. Yet I hear his rampaging lust.

"Let's see what this baby can do." I speak to alleviate my concern.

The jet is at full power and I engage the frequency web. On screen I watch it weave around the moving truck until it disappears from view. "Testing...testing..."

Slowly, cautiously, I begin the jet's ascent. Within moments the truck's tires leave the street. "We have lift off," I dramatically whisper.

"My ass is feeling suspended," Zurroc drily quips.

Keeping one eye glued to my instrument panel, I get the feel of the truck's cumbersome weight. "Holding...all is well," I assure him.

Taking great care, I fly in the direction of the well lit Ambassador Bridge. Able to observe the heights of buildings easily at this slow speed, I skim over rooftops.

Midnight has come and gone. Zurroc and I decided to make our food heist once the night shift came on duty. Why scare and battle more humans than is necessary?

Before reaching the bridge, I pick up speed while monitoring the frequency web. "So far, so good," I say, then blow out the breath I've been holding.

"What about hitching a ride on top of that semi?" Zurroc rumbles, as we close in on the bridge.

I consider the idea, but something warns me off. As warrioress, I've come to trust this intuitive ping. "Do you know how much weight the top of a semi can hold?"

"No," he barks in tiger.

"I don't want to set down, then have to lift off if the top caves in," I say.

Zurroc remains silent, knowing I must focus now. I negotiate a path that leads us to the bridge, then cruise above the flow of traffic. Once I've locked in the coordinates that will take us to the other side, I integrate my psi sense with the jet's electro-magnetic system.

I realize immediately the system is straining. Although, the loss of power is minimal at this point, and doesn't register on the panel. But, damn the rhino hide!

"Rhino hide?" Zurroc softly demands, having caught the expression from our homeworld as I thought it.

"No problem now." Reluctantly, I add, "There could be later."

"Later," he growls in that tone that says it all.

I ease the jet's speed ever higher, debating with myself about the loss of power now, versus what would be gained by arriving and departing faster. I could have put the question to the ultra computer. But that would be another small drain on the system.

Soon we're outracing the traffic by a good margin. As we close in on the Canadian border, then shoot above the stopped traffic below, the tigress merges her senses with mine, and my fierce nature takes over.

Having mind-scanned the route to the warehouse complex, I quickly arrive and locate the right loading dock. Within minutes, I've descended and settled the moving truck.

To conserve power, I shut down the jet, a move I hadn't planned on making. This will slow our take off time.

"Rock 'n roll." With a twist, I leap from the jet. Landing, I see Zurroc has already leapt out, and is opening the back of the moving truck.

Racing forward, I alter the density of my body, then phase through steel. Once inside the warehouse, I whirl and quickly figure out the opening mechanism. As I raise the huge, garage-like door the surprised shouts begin.

Ignoring the commands hurled at me, the guns now aimed in my direction by three guards who run toward me military style, I take a deep breath, and initiate my shift.

The tigress roars, ferocious to chase and attack. As full tiger, with power surging, singing through my muscles, I charge the closest target.

He halts in his footsteps, frozen. His gun shakes as if it's been turned into a cheap vibrator. His eyes bulge like they've been replaced by golf balls.

I'm nearly on top of him when his brain finally gets the message through to his feet. His adrenalin kicks in, and with a strangled scream he spins, running for his life.

Badly aimed bullets pop around me as I whip around. Three guards fire, their military training obvious, even if they can't shoot straight. Shock has them in its jaws.

I bound toward them like the killer beast I am. Their eyes turn to glassy unseeing spheres just before they scatter like prey, and sprint for the exits.

I run the aisles, roaring, sniffing out the two remaining guards who attempt to hide themselves. Once I flush them out, I take swipes at their frantically pumping legs -- just for fun.

With the warehouse cleared, I listen for the silent alarm. Nothing. Why?

Yes, the cameras whir, recording everything. To kill their digital eyes, I'll have to shift first.

Scenting Zurroc's position, I race toward him, morphing as I run. He's already loading the moving truck with case after case of canned food. By the smell I realize he's found a cache of organic vegetables.

Once I've fully shifted to human form, I concentrate for several moments. Every electronic device fizzles out, dead.

Zurroc and I work side-by-side, rapidly filling the moving truck with the best food we can find on the heavily stocked shelves. We continue knowing the special ops squad -- there to guard the illegal drugs and the cartel money -- have surrounded the warehouse.

We also know the Canadian version of SWAT teams are on the way.

"The X-Files ops are coming," Zurroc informs, as he tosses a case of artichoke hearts high, so it lands on top of the stacked cases.

~~~~~~

TUNE IN FOR NEXT WEEK'S FLASH-SCENE EPISODE...

~~~~~~


 
Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Crisis

Aramilla backed up until the cold stone wall stopped her. She could retreat no further. She stared up at the towering Dmitri. The vampire king loomed over her, his skin like ice, his glittering eyes icier still. “You cannot escape me,” he rumbled. “I will have you, little flower, and I will—”

I will--

“Shit.” Chloe flung down her pen and glowered at the words she’d just committed to paper. Dmitri Krushnic was supposed to be the ruler of all the vampires in Denver, Colorado, absolute evil with fangs. Yet here he was, holding out his hand to Aramilla and urging her not to be frightened. No matter what she did, he just refused to be a monster.

“C’mon,” she urged him. “Be the bad guy. Do something really horrible.”

No go. Instead of leering and sneering at her heroine, he insisted on treating her with tenderness. As if she were his long-lost daughter or something. Maybe after six centuries of undeadedness, he was lonely.

Swell. Aramilla needed to be rescued by her two hunky vampire heroes. If Dmitri refused to step up to the villain plate, what was Chloe supposed to do for conflict?

This was all Big Scary Guy’s fault. Sergei, blond cowboy Ewan had called him. Chloe had patterned her Big Bad on him because he scared the crap out of her. Then he’d turned out to be soft-spoken and courteous. So much for Dmitri Krushnic’s career as a pillar of evil.

Maybe Dmitri had a henchman. An ambitious underling out to steal rulership of the flock for himself. One who lusted after Aramilla and plotted against the two handsome vampires trying to save her. Yeah, that would work. Chloe started writing again.

After a further page and a half she realized she was going to have to backtrack and introduce Evil Henchman if she was going to use him as a bad guy. Maybe he should be part of the scene where her heroes first discovered Aramilla. Then she could establish the rivalry between E.H. and Pietro, her main hero, right from the get-go. She flipped to the front of the spiral notebook in search of a likely spot.

Something caught her eye, a miniature flutter of white. A scrap of jagged confetti, no bigger than her thumbnail, dangled precariously from three tiny metal rings. The rest of the page it had once been a part of was gone.

No no no no no no NO—

Her heart in her throat, Chloe started at the front of the notebook and carefully turned page after page. She found her worst fears confirmed. One page ended in the middle of one sentence; the next started up in the middle of another. Two of the pages she’d feverishly crammed with words in a white-hot spurt of creativity at the coffee shop this morning were gone. Vanished. Torn out. Stolen.

Her suspicions fastened at once on the big white Russian guy. After all, he’d had the notebook in his hand. But then he’d given it back to her without even opening the cover. Her eyes had been on him every second. For him to have ripped the pages free, he’d have to be faster than Superman.

Dale? The cowboy with the brownish-reddish hair and the fascinating gold-flecked eyes? No, he’d been occupied with trying to pry the Russian’s hand from around his neck. But that was after he’d tried to take the notebook away from her. Like he thought she was taking notes on him or something.

Okay, yeah, but just to put him in her novel. It wasn’t like he was really Pietro, the vampire she’d written him to be. Unless …

Chloe shook her head. Nuh-uh. People had warned her Talbot’s Peak had a funky rep, but it couldn’t be that weird. The two hunky cowboys who hit on her this morning couldn’t be vampires. For starts, it was daylight.

She took a deep breath. Okay. Think it through. There was Cutie Blond, Ewan. He’d tried to steal a look in it, too. Come to think of it, she’d lost track of him for a few vital seconds during the scuffle with Sergei. He thought she had a diary, and he’d struck her as the type who liked to stick his nose into a lady’s privates. Private business, Chloe quickly corrected herself with a flash of heat. Topside and bottomside.

Damn crispy-fresh Montana air. It grew bold cowboys too cute for safety and did things to a girl’s inner workings.

Bottom line, the pages were gone. So what now?

Chloe muttered a couple of words she’d learned from her last newsroom editor. She could try to recreate the pages from memory, but it wouldn’t be the same. That fresh blast of inspiration that had given them life would be missing. This was why she never wrote her first drafts on the laptop any more. Paper had never frozen up on her and flashed the message program is not responding. Paper was supposed to circumvent all this.

No choice. She’d just have to go back to the coffee shop and see if someone had found her pages and not thrown them out. If the cowboys were still there, she’d have to confront them. Yes, even the one with the treasure-trove eyes. She’d kicked him once; she could do it again.

Two nosy Norms, that’s all they were. That’s why they’d tried to take her notebook. Not because they really were vampires and she’d accidently stumbled on their secret. Chloe kept telling herself that all the way out the door.

Punk A What?!

Gil looked down the list of midway games the committee had presented for the upcoming street fair carnival.  A shooting booth topped the list, followed by various games of chance, and several that humans could win a few prizes at along with some that would pay out in local services as well as fund raising projects for the community and youth center. Main Street up through the outer edge of town would hold rides and food vendors.  The games and picnic area circled closer to the proposed center buildings.   Two-thirds of the way down the list a particular entry caught his attention.

As Gil laid the paper on the table, he glanced at the committee personnel present for the finalizing of the layout of the function.  Heads bobbed and shook as the committee studied the list.  Had none of them puzzled the item he had?  Gil inhaled, and leaned back, giving all a few more moments to look over the list again if needed.

About five minutes later, Louie looked up.  His gaze met Gil’s.  He held up five fingers and mouthed the item in question.  Gil nodded and shrugged.  Several others looked up wide eyed.  Bettina snort and nudged the woman sitting next to her, showing her the item.

Gil rapped on the table.  “As you can see we’ve gotten the list of games folks stated they wanted for the midway.  There are some for shape shifters and some for humans as well as ones that appeal to both.”

Gil paused, waiting to see if anyone would openly voice their thoughts and opinion on item number five.

No one spoke up.  Gil could feel the tension growing the longer he waited.  Drawing in a breath, he opened his mouth to speak.  The conference room door banged open.  Ranger trotted in.

“Sorry to be late.  Had to deal with a group of stupid kids.”  Ranger pulled out the chair at the far end of the table.  Bettina stood up, picked up her chair and scooted closer to Louie.  More sniffs sounded.  Chairs and people moved.  Soon Ranger occupied the far end of the table alone.  Many dabbed their eyes and held their hands over their nose.  

Gil opened his mouth to speak again when the gray haired human closest to him called out.  “Son, you been sleeping with polecats?”

Gil bit his lip to keep from busting out laughing.  As he looked down at item five, he began to get the gist of the game’s title.  If punking a skunk had anything to do with how Ranger smelled, there was no way that game was even getting off the drawing board.

Ranger stood and removed his hat.  Gil swallowed hard.  That was a first for him.  Ranger looked down as he spoke.  “No sir I leave polecats and skunks alone for the most part.  But when a group of dumbass teens think they can hold their breath, grab a skunk by his tail, and shave em with a pair of clippers like they would a sheep, well rescuing the shape shifters amongst the group is one of my sworn duties.”

Louie walked over to the closest window, opened it.  He proceeded to open several others.  “Someone go down to Ratagins and get a case of tomato juice.  There is an industrial size can of air freshener in the bathroom. “

Sounds of feet moving and chairs toppling filled the room.  A circle of men with their backs to Ranger formed.  Hadley leapt up on the table and called out.  “Strip and make your way outside cuz the scrubbing is about to commence.”

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

Happy Weekend Gang!

Well I've heard of unusual customs and games at fairs and carnivals.  I think the Peak will never be the same if this game catches on.  Buying stock in tomato juice companies and air freshener manufacturers too is one way to fund the community center project.

Hope you are surviving summer's heat wave and storms.  The Spice Homestead celebrates two anniversaries this week, Mage and his wife along with DP and his Gal Pal.  Congrats to them both!  

I'll be busy writing this weekend on a new meange story that takes place in Cascade Bay.  I hope to have it polished and ready for submission soon.  Until next week, remember to share a good book or two with your spice and loves.  I will be!

Smiles,

Solara

A Blazing Display Brings Love

Erol landed smoothly on the mountain peak which gave this town its name and lowered his wing to ease Greely in dismounting.  When he spoke his voice was still Erol’s just with a bit more gravel and emerged from the mouth of a dragon reminding her of how small she was in this great big world.

“Did you enjoy the display from above, my love?” 

“I loved it.  It was like flying among the stars.  So much color and light - fire and ice.  Yet all the while I felt nothing but safety and warmth snuggled up in the blanket upon your back.”

“You will always be safe with me, Greely.”

Deep in her heart of hearts she knew this was true.  Sure he could be grouchy, insistent and chauvinistic, but he never slacked on her safety.  Even tonight he’d made sure to have a leather harness rigged up on his back which he required her to wear before taking off.  “I’ll not lose you,” he’d stated, turning her legs into mush and setting her heart a flutter with happiness. 

Greely looked to the large wicker basket currently resting beneath the massive dragon.  It was square rather than circular as she would have expected and large enough to carry several people.  The corners were tied off with thick ropes which led to both arms and legs.  “What’s with the basket?”

“Look inside and tell me what you see.”

“Will I be sucked into some vortex or struck speechless by the chains you wish to use to bind me?”  The teasing and smirk upon her face felt good and right—like a long lost friend coming home.

“Heh, heh, heh…I will one day bind you, fair one, but not today.  Look inside the basket.”

Bind her he did though in the beginnings of love.  Inside, waiting to be removed was the makings for a picnic extraordinaire with pillows and blankets, flowers and wine.  She was being woo’d and it was perfect.  “Oh Erol, so you made yourself look like a-a balloon, just to give me this lovely meal?”

“Well, um…”

His stammer was perfect and shoved her ever closer to the edge of loving him, needing him above all others.  She wondered if he was in his human skin would he even be blushing.  “Yes?”

“The ability to provide this was a wonderful benefit of the agreement I made with Dante.  It seems that a dragon flying over the festivities would be too much for the fragile human mind to bear unless they were convinced it was all a fun prop.  A large balloon they would apparently understand more so than my glorious dragon skin.”

“You did that for me?”  Joyful tears pricked at her as she looked into his jewel-like eyes.

“Of course.  You are mine, fair Greely.” 

“Do you fly all the ladies above fireworks displays, Erol?”  She dreaded his answer, but needed to hear it all the same.  Before they continued and moved their connection to a physical one she needed to know where to keep her head.  Despite the perfection of the mountain top picnic and the blazing flight, if she were just one of the many women he’d taken to the stars theirs would be a short relationship based solely on sex and she would learn to be okay with that.

“No, never!  You have been and forever shall be the only one upon my back.”

“Oh Erol,” she whispered, the crack in her voice coincided perfectly with the fall of her first tear.  Love truly did come upon swift wings.
~~~

May love find you swiftly this July 4th weekend and my you see blazing stars a-plenty!


Serena