ShapeShifter Kisses

April 16, 2014

Blood Moon Rout by Savanna Kougar



Pic from

Blood Moon howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

In honor of this rare celestial event, here’s a flash scene about what happens if you dare intrude on Talbot’s Peak territory with the intention to harm.


Blood Moon Rout

About to quaff the blood moon ale Dante had brewed for the night’s howl and prowl through the forest in celebration of the first of four Blood Moons, Stone paused, the enormous stein held partway to his mouth. He’d sensed more than scented a rush toward the door by two horse shifter types, as had the three other musketeers in his wolf pack

One for all, and all for one, Stone and his pack glued their gazes on the biker bar’s  well secured door, where two werewolf bouncer types stood guard.  “Open the door, mates,” Dugger, the dingo shifter broke the sudden silence, “Before Catcher and Diamond bloody bust through. No use making Dante pay for–”

Too late… almost too late, either Catcher or Diamond shoulder-slammed the heavy wooden door as one of the bouncers whipped it open. A golden-coated stallion slid to a fast stop on the rough-hewn floor, followed by his sable colored buddy. The night’s blackness framed them while empty chairs and tables flew to the side — having already been deserted.

“What has your long tails in a knot, fellas?” Dugger tossed cool as ice amid the blowing snorts and anxious pawing of the two shifter studs.

“BLM troops,” a woman breathlessly shrilled from the doorway. The petite woman dressed in horse-endurance racing gear moved inward quick, grabbing hold of the sable stallion’s mane.

“Serenity, what is it?” Dugger’s better half, Symone approached, one hand on the long, strange super rifle slung across her shoulder. Stone had never seen the enhanced-human warrioress without it. ‘Course, his musketeer pack had only been part Dante’s patrol crew for the last six months.

“They’re building a staging whatever you call it,” Serenity burst out. “Weapons. SWAT vehicles. They’re, they’re massing on Talbot’s Peak territory.” She sucked in a breath. “Looks like they have the Turkles ranch in their cowardly sights,” she spat contemptuously. “We’ve got to do something. Now!” she shouted, her righteous passion obvious — her breaths heaving in and out.

“Scat, we’re in.” Stone leaped to his feet, his pack following. As they shed their leathers, and began their shifts, he growled, “Time for a Blood Moon rout of the enemy.”

“Yeah, mate.” Dugger’s guttural tone suggested he morphed to dingo.

“Let’s get it on,” Symone yelled.

Stone swore the woman’s blood blazed as fever-high wild as his — as his pack’s. Through wolfen eyes he watched the tall warrioress seize a handful of the golden stallion’s mane and jump astride. Serenity had already mounted her sable stallion lover, who now backed through the open door rapidly.

Dugger’s excited yip-yip-yip as he charged with Stone and his pack — following Catcher and Diamond — fired Stone’s bloodlust through his veins even bigger and badder.

Hunger stronger than while on the hunt for dinner, raged inside, owning every last wolf hair of Stone. Brute. Beast. Monster. Oh howls-scat, yeah, he was all of that. And more.

As if they chased the wind, the two stallions raced along a well-used forest trail that led to a long stretch of prairie. From what Stone mentally picked up from the woman, Serenity, the paramilitary encampment lay atop a great rise of ground yet in a hollow — somewhat shielded from view.

Not his view. Not his nose. As they broke out of the dark forest onto the moon brightened prairie, the stench of human sweat smacked Stone in the nostrils. Oh hell yeah, the blood game was on. These were seasoned killers, mercenaries of the worst sort.

Stone salivated to crunch their bones, spurt their blood. Eliminate them from beautiful Mother Earth.

He knew little about the Turkle ranch, only that a Turkey shifter family owned it, and they were right handy with rifles. Damn smart when living among predator shapeshifters, and surviving. Why the Turkles were targeted by the bureaucratic agency, if they were, mystified Stone. That is, unless their land held a value prized by those addicted to big money.

Catcher and Diamond’s hoofbeats resounded like low rolling thunder as they galloped over the Spring-awakened land. The blasting heat of bloodlust rolled off Stone and his pack… off Dugger and every wolf, coyote, big cat, and half-breed shapeshifter who ran with them on mostly silent paws.

“Lasers!” Symone shouted the warning over her shoulder. “Spread out,” she ordered. “Evade and attack.” 

Scat sure enough, pencil-thin beams crisscrossed above them. Given he was in the lead, one laser weapon locked on Stone, between his eyes. He knew by the matrix-energy around him several of the others were also targeted.

Breaking his stride, Stone launched upward and to the side as shots rang out. Grinning, a super thrill sliding along his spine, he dug in sprinting past Catcher and Diamond. Amid whizzing bullets, his always-courageous pack ran loosely beside him, their scent as hot and savage for the taste of mercenary blood as his.

Howls hell no, you creepazoid bastards — not one of their shifter pack had been picked off, or injured. Stone would have sensed or heard the thud of a bullet penetrating flesh.

He credited Dante, given the alpha in charge held regular training sessions for this type of combat. Still grinning, Stone felt his energy spike to monster status. He saw through a red sheen now, and his muscles exploded with power.

Stone figured they were less than a mile out, and they raced uphill — faster than the average demon wolf. Oh scat yeah, faster. Oh, and by the way, enemies, our razor-sharp fangs rip through Kevlar like good raw steak.

A frenzied chaos of movement by the paramilitary troops, and shouted orders, entered Stone’s ears, but he hardly heard the words. What he knew, he and his musketeer pack led the charge inside the encampment.

Shots dully pinged into Mother Earth’s skin, missing Stone and his pack. Taser-like advanced weaponry buzzed like a den of pissed off rattlesnakes. Bolts of electricity hit Stone.

He grinned wider. That’s right, ape scat, give me the juice. Time for a Blood Moon rout.

Stone sprang, snapped his jaws around an aimed assault rifle, and crunched mangling the weapon. He flung it aside. Before his enemy could stumble backward, Stone sank his fangs into his exposed throat.


Wishing you full moon shapeshifting on the wild side…


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~ 


Chapter Two ~ Z’Pasha of Dendera by Savanna Kougar



Springtime howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

A ROAR OF THANKS! To everyone who participated in the FOOL FOR LOVE bloghop.

Okay then, the writerly well has run temporarily dry. And I’ve got too much on my plate right now. Thus and so, here’s a flashback scene written during the early days of our shapeshifter-supernatural town of Talbot’s Peak. The scene, starring my Egyptian cat goddess, Z’Pasha, is now chapter two of my wip, WHITE FANG, ACE WOLF REPORTER. 

Chapter Two ~ Z’Pasha of Dendera 

Z’Pasha stepped back into the concealment of the shadow she had created. Prepared to swiftly transport herself with magick, she observed the Super Wolf leap over the deck rail.

After quickly looking around, he focused like a hunting dog on a trail. Because he would remain unaware of her existence, Z’Pasha watched him flash inside the ethers. With her feline-superior gaze, she followed the streaming lines of his frequency.

Once the lines dimmed, she dissolved her shadow. As she raised her arms skyward, she heard, “Mommy, mommy, I smell a cat. Let’s go chase–”

“No! Marilyn, stop that. If you rip one more dress–”

“But, mommy, aren’t we supposed to chase cats? Please–”

“Not here! Later we’ll go for long run in the woods. Marilyn, I see fur…”

Unconcerned about the werewolf population in Talbot’s Peak, Z’Pasha smiled, something she hadn’t done for months. After briefly remembering her own rambunctious shifter kitten-hood, she concentrated.

Using her arrowed fingertips as a point of contact with the Ka-Ba, she transitioned into her smoke body. Aware various types magick were being practiced, Z’Pasha hid herself, then traveled in the Super Wolf’s wake.

She required all the knowledge she could gather about White Fang, and the reason why the Syxxrion Shifter had arrived in the isolated Montana town. Was he possible friend or foe?

Two days ago, upon her own arrival, Z’Pasha had cast her essence like a star field above Talbot’s Peak, and the surrounding area. With the All-seeing Eye of her spirit, she’d found the elusive Tiger Yakuza leader, Zhere Ghan. His stronghold proved to be near a small river tributary, hidden within massive outcropping of rock.

Once she’d eliminated any trace of herself above his territory, Z’Pasha scanned the energy signatures of the town’s residents. Wisdom demanded she identify the so called movers and shakers, and any being of consequence to her.

Destroying the life force of two Tiger Ninjas, in an act of retaliation, would be no small task, even with her goddess powers. However, outrage boiled Z’Pasha’s blood. While sadness coiled around her heart like a serpent, squeezing…squeezing…always squeezing.

The bloody and brutal shredding of her human friend was not to be tolerated. Larissa had done nothing to harm the Yakuza. In the wrong place at the wrong time, she had offered help to a man near death.

How could Larissa, as a mere human, have known the beaten man’s evil far surpassed the criminal activities of Zhere Ghan’s empire? Z’Pasha did not fault the Ninjas for ending the life of a serial rapist, one who also tortured his victims.

No, if the one with a coward’s entrails, and the cunning brain of crocodile, had attempted the abduction of her niece, as he did Zhere Ghan’s, her own claws would have ribboned his flesh without regret.

Yet, why end the life of an innocent?

After using their formidable skills to pummel the psychopathic human into a grisly state, the two tiger shapeshifters watched as death claimed him slowly, and with excruciating pain. Seeing the wretched man in the alleyway, Larissa had attempted to heal him with the natural ability bestowed on her by the Sacred. With not so much as a growl of warning, the Tiger Ninjas attacked her like enraged dervishes.

Z’Pasha shivered at the horrific memories, and nearly lost the Super Wolf’s vibratory path. Even now, Larissa slept in the divine embrace of restoration, currently lost to her.

Bastet’s favor remained, however. The path still shone slightly, and Z’Pasha gave silent thanks to her grandmother. About ten minutes behind the Super Wolf, she watched as he emerged from a cave entrance in his wolf form, a fluffy cat shifter beside him.

Z’Pasha journeyed with the pair, careful to hover high and stay behind them. White Fang’s senses swept the forest before him, his protective manner obvious. As a Syxxrion, if he had loosed his sensory powers in her direction, a swift departure would be needed. He would detect her presence instantly.

The Syxxrion were an intergalactic race of wolf shapeshifters, and inhabited many worlds. Why they kept a presence on Earth, other than the primeval beauty of the planet, no one in her realm knew.

Z’Pasha watched the impressive drive of White Fang’s haunches from her vantage point. His muscle-rippling strength as he loped and bounded over fallen logs caused a sudden yearning to burst through her, blazing as the Egyptian sun at midday.

As wolf, White Fang was a magnificently virile beast from the tip of his noble muzzle to the end of his silver-gray tail. The proud, yet measured carriage of his tail revealed his lone alpha nature.

Carnal desire slid up her middle like a knife, stunning Z’Pasha.

Although, she possessed a passionate disposition, this intensity was rare. Since the death of Larissa, lusty liaisons had been nonexistent–so fierce did Z’Pasha want righteous revenge.

As she continued observing White Fang, his great strength brought to mind the early days of Egypt. During this reign of the goddesses, spirit and technology had been combined in a balance that benefitted all. 

With the rise of corruption and the Draconian elite, there had been a gradual decline into a lesser culture. The eventual death of real magic for those outside the mystery schools, caused her kind to create enclaves, now curtained by protective mists.

Goddess Divine, how Z’Pasha missed the resplendent and festive sporting games. Once two of the pyramids had been completed, the competitors leaped or raced over them.

Unbidden, images of White Fang as both man and wolf competing in the Royal Sun Games entered her mind. Her fantasy refused to leave easily, despite the discipline Z’Pasha practiced to maintain the viability of her magick.

Dismissing the raw fire of her loins, she stabilized her lighter-than-air form. White Fang twisted, barely able to shove through a house’s pet door. Kitty Collins, that was the name on the mailbox.

Jealousy did not usually afflict  Z’Pasha. Staggered by her sudden reaction, she felt the sharp pangs grow like grapevines, as White Fang spoke with Kitty inside her home, both of them now shifted to human.

Many men, of every race, had fallen at Z’Pasha’s feet, and she had lustily basked in the extreme pleasures they offered. On occasion, to gain her own ends, she seduced men, especially shapeshifters–the ability natural to her as a feline goddess.

As Z’Pasha listened to White Fang’s chivalrous attention to Kitty, she wondered how pleasurable would it be to gain his assistance in her quest for vengeance?

Having briefly witnessed the Super Wolf’s handsome attributes as a man, obviously his seduction would be no hardship. Inspired by the right woman, Z’Pasha instinctively knew the Syxxrion would provide a passion and pleasure that enslaved the carnal senses.


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side …


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance 


April 5, 2014

Deuces Wild, Secret Agent Wolf by Savanna Kougar


Howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

GUESS WHAT!!! April 4th-6th we authors at ShapeShifter Seductions are participating in the FOOL FOR LOVE bloghop. For info hit this link

Yep, another day with way too much on my plate. However, here’s a spinoff flash scene starring one of the wolf boys from Pat’s Monday flash.


Deuces Wild, Secret Agent Wolf

Deuces Wild, as he was affectionately known at the Interspecies Pleasure Club, kept his expression savage even as he mentally grinned. A bunch of ape goofballs got out of an obviously stolen cop car. To his trained wolfen eye, they weren’t up to no good in the Peak. Not yet. Instead, they appeared to be tracking another of their stinky, brainless kind.

Scat, one of them  reeked of candy bars, and cheap hamburger grease. “Hunters,” he growled in wolf. “Bet they’re after Cochrane. Heard at the club that coyote screw up, Ewan, bit the bastard.”

For almost as long as he’d been part of Damien Hancock’s enforcer pack, Deuce had been Dante’s inside source — his loyalties switched once he’d discovered the depraved depth of the pack leader’s desire to rule Talbot’s Peak.

Deuce played a double game, feeding meaty chunks of info about Dante’s growing empire to Damien — his reason for frequenting the Pleasure Club. So far, his ‘secret agent wolf’ life had gone smooth as the Kentucky bourbon he favored.

Being Dante’s inside wolf man — Deuce grinned to himself again — they gamed out what tidbits of truth to throw in Damien’s snapping jaws.  But why Dante wanted his sire’s mad scientist, Morloxian, to be supplied with more subjects … howls to freak-show hell, the alpha werewolf had said something about looming danger from a mammoth mutant werewolf, pieces on a chessboard, and the ‘good for all’ endgame.

Mentally, Deuce shook his head. He didn’t own that brand of smarts, that level of strategic gamesmanship. Not like Dante and his sire, Damien.

Scat, he was a street smart wolf, having been an orphan cub in New York City. Yeah baby, he’d taken ferocious bites out of the Big Apple. Deuces was damn proud of how he’d been able to survive, even thrive into his teen-wolfhood. But, with the lure of a werewolf-owned town, he’d moved west. Fast. 

Now Dante relied on Deuce’s paws-on-the-ground intel. The main wolfman as Deuce thought of Damien’s rebel son, always showed his toothy-grinning gratitude. Plus, the rewards at the Pleasure Club… AHROOOOOOO WOO WOOOahhhhh!

When it became apparent the motley ape crew was headed for the bar to send Cochrane to the happy hunting ground, there were further yips and grrrs of communication between their bad-boy pack.

Deuce had carefully remained second in command, a superior position for his double life. It kept him close to the pack leader and freed him from being the low-level grunt who’d been ordered to get their delivery van. Everything inside the Full Moon Deliveries’ van had been set up for their ops, and to transport ‘captures’ to Damien, or in this case, Morloxian’s lab in Colorado.

‘Status?’ he mind-heard. Shandris’ soft voice sang through him. As usual, his cock pressed against his black leathers before he could stop the ‘bad boy’ from thickening.

The shy fae witch caused bolts of need to race through his blood. But she was off limits.

Dante hadn’t forbidden him from pursuing Shandris. No, the petite beauty claimed her powers would be lessened if she… to quote her words “allowed their involvement”. 

Shandris had become part of Gypsy Red Wolf’s circle to protect Talbot’s Peak. She’d been able to join her mind with his, despite Deuce’s lack of supernatural talent. Shandris also possessed the supernatural ability to guard his thoughts from Damien Hancock’s psychics, as well as the Yakuza tiger shifter, Zhere Ghan’s psi-spies.

She kept a permanent but undetectable barrier around his mind, which left Deuce able to fully use his fang-tough personality, all while covertly gathering intel. He mindspoke with Shandris only when time was of the essence, and when she contacted.

‘Status is the capture of Cochrane’s crew. Take them to mad scientist Morloxian,’ Deuce telepathed.

‘I will remain connected. And watch through your eyes.’

‘You can do that?’ Yeah-yip, probably a stupid question. Although, Shandris hadn’t revealed that psi power to him.

‘Our bond allows for it now… secret agent wolf,’ she added, humor in her mind voice.

‘How did — you read my mind,’ Deuce teased. ‘Van is here. Gotta jump.’

‘Secret agent wolf man…’ Shandris sang to him as he leaped into the passenger seat. Oh hell howl, this wasn’t half bad, a fae singing in his head.

‘Am I distracting you too much?’ she asked, once the pack leader hit the accelerator pedal, and they pursued the ape crew down the open road.

‘Not so far,’ Deuce answered. He kept one ear on the pack leader’s barked orders, while listening with his inner ears to Shandris. ‘This is gettin’ easy as licking –” Deuce stopped himself from finishing with ‘a bitch’s butt’.

‘Tsk, tsk,’ Shandris admonished, her amusement obvious.

‘I’ll have to mind my manners. But your little ears are gonna do some serious burning.’ Already the rest of the enforcer pack used foul language as they prepared the back of the van.

‘Sticks and stones,’ she crooned. Deuce found himself liking this side of Shandris way too much. His cock agreed, lengthening again.

“No scat ridin’ our tail,” Deuce reported to the pack leader. “The sniffer is clean,” he added. With the best nose in the pack, it was Deuce’s job to ride shotgun.

‘Message from Dante.’ Shandris interrupted the pack leader’s sideways glance at Deuce’s crotch.

“Something you’d like to share, Deuce?” he snarled.

“Beautiful bitch at the Pleasure Club. She got my attention, and I’m feeling her something fierce. It is Spring. You know how it is.” Deuce spoke in an offhanded manner. For good measure, he threw the pack leader an apologetic glance.

“Scat yeah, Spring. Did some tail chasing the other night. Just keep your mind on business. Damien’ll have our hides… hell, he’ll offer our asses up to that franken-wolf, Morloxian.”

“Got it under control,” Deuce growled, even as he felt Shandris enter her protective shell against him. Yet she didn’t disconnect her mind from his. ‘Message?’ he prompted.

‘Don’t let the mammoth mutant werewolf bite.’

Damn Lupa! The thing was alive and kicking.


Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance 


March 28, 2014

The Furious Filly by Savanna Kougar



Springtime howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

My original flash scene idea had to be nixed, so here’s one I hope you’ll enjoy.


The Furious Filly

Kassanna screamed a whinny, lowered her head, and charged. Oh hell yeah, she scented the whoring bastard in the biker bar – as she’d been told by a girlfriend.

Fury blazed her blood. Her tail flashed as she raced along the dark forest trail toward the isolated den of iniquity.

Chad, the sleazy stud, had charmed her like a champion. But he’d chosen the wrong filly to cheat on.

Enraged past bearing, Kassanna slid to a halt when she spied the cheater’s familiar motorcycle lined up with the rest of the chrome machine horses. Scenes of she and Chad speeding over the highways, her arms wrapped tightly around him, tormented her.

At the time, their fun together had been outrageous, wonderful. Love filled her life.

Now… Kassanna bucked high, and aimed her bared teeth at the bike’s back tire. Chomping down, she jerked hard, pulling the motorcycle out of line.

Kassanna half-reared, knocking the bike over with her pounding hooves. STOMP, HOP, STOMP, HOP, STOMP! Mangled metal knifed the tires.

Whirling, she charged the bar’s door. Fueled by rage, Kassanna spun around, and lashed out with her back hooves. The crack, the splintering of the thick wood felt more than satisfying.

“Wait!” someone shouted, someone who smelled like a wolf. “I’m opening the door.”

Kassanna shrilled a whinny as she rushed inside. Blowing through her nostrils, she smelled her now ex-fiancee. Hell yeah! Hoof-stomping time. There the stud-rat fink stood in the far corner, quickly detaching himself from the floozy he’d been oozing charm all over… probably nibbling her neck, kissing her ear seductively… just like…

More fury blasted through her veins. Kassanna flattened her ears and pawed the wooden floor. Her muscles bunched, and as if she channeled a demoness, she leaped toward Chad, who was mouthing something and waving his arms like she was a maddened bull he could divert.

“Get out of the way!” someone screamed. “Shit, she’s comin’ through.” … “What the fuck did you do, Chad?”

Kassanna barely heard the mad scramble, the scrape of chairs and tables being dragged out of her way as she trotted like a puma on the hunt. “No, no… it ain’t what it looks like. I swear. I swear, apple cheeks.”

Apple cheeks! How dare the son of a sway-backed stud. Kassanna bared her teeth preparing to rip chunks out of his no-good hide.

“It’s you I love,” Chad pathetically cried out before launching himself among the other patrons. They deserted him as Kassanna pursued, heedless of anything in her way.

Chad crashed from chair to chair like a billiard ball. He flung himself onto a table and crawled like his ass was on fire.

Target attained. With a wicked, mental grimace, Kassanna snaked her neck and nipped his butt cheek hard. Chad hollered like a cry baby, as she crunched down on his other ass cheek. Twisting ruthlessly, Kassanna tore his denims.

Her prize, a hunk of his flesh came along with the fabric. Flinging it aside, Kassanna attacked again, leaving her teeth prints on his ass.

“Shit! Someone stop her,” Chad screamed. He crawled like a sprayed cockroach onto another table top, his bare bloodied butt exposed.

“You made your bed,” a growly voice philosophically tossed.

“You done her wrong,” a woman’s voice condemned. “Go git him, girl.”

Spurred by sheer terror, Chad gained the floor and ran for the door. Kassanna had never seen him move so fast, not even in his horse form. Pursuing, she watched him stumble at the threshold as he whipped around, trying to shut the door against her. No one had bothered closing it.

Chad gave up as she smacked the door with her shoulder, before he could even get it fully closed. The bastard betrayer dashed into the darkness.

“OH MY GAWD! Shit, my bike! What did you do… you, you bitch… FUCK! You, you..ruined it.” Chad neighed a scream, his shift underway.

‘Yeah, buddy,’ she mentally bit him, ‘and I’ll do it again. You ass wipe.’

With her fury subsiding, somewhat, Kassanna halted in her hoof prints. With a filly’s pride, she watched the bitch-whipped stud gallop into the depths of the forest like the hounds of hell were on his hooves. Better than her hooves, she thought. She’d be a she-devil on his trail forever. Chad was one lucky son of a stud Kassanna had decided his stinging hindquarters and a headlong crashing run through the dark of night was enough punishment. For now.

“Darlin’, that was the best entertainment I’ve had in a long, long while,” a rough-hewn voice twanged behind Kassanna. “You sure are a spirited little thing, ain’t you?”

Curiosity got the better of her, and Kassanna slowly spun around. The tall, lanky man dressed like a working cowboy out on the town, didn’t approach. Obviously, he knew better. His stance showed he knew how to handle a distraught horse.

“Yep, that was some show. Now, don’t you worry, little lady. I got enough of a bankroll to cover any damages.” The man grinned wide as the open range, and nodded toward the hoof-mangled motorcycle. “Now, I ain’t payin’ for that, though.”

Kassanna blew her breath toward him, inhaling his scent.

“Not a horse shapeshifter,” he answered what she already knew.

The next instant… stunned by the level of power rolling off the stranger – strong as a raging thunderstorm – Kassanna lifted her head in alarm, and took a couple of steps back. No doubt about it, he owned a force meant to control equine races.

Even though, she sensed no immediate threat from the shaman like cowboy – no trapping frequencies aimed at her – Kassanna instinctively wanted to morph to woman. His power couldn’t touch her then.

But that would have left her butt-naked. Damn!

“Smart and beautiful,” he crooned, easy as a breeze blowing over prairie wildflowers. “The handle is Denver Zamora, little lady. Me and Dante are engaged in some negotiations.”

Kassanna eyed him suspiciously, while wondering why she just didn’t gallop off, leave Mr. More Than a Cowboy in the dust. Maybe because he wasn’t trying to rope her with his sorcery.

“I was enjoyin’ some of his bar’s hospitality,” Denver added at her bold eye. “How about joinin’ me for the evening? Only dinner, good music ‘n drinks. Guaranteed I can find you an outfit, darlin’.”

Denver looked her over, his own eye bold but with a respect for horseflesh that impressed Kassanna. Well rootin’ tootin’ hell, why not give the man a show? If he liked what he saw, and she’d know if he did, then why not? No man was ever pulling the race hood over eyes again, and he had no special powers over the woman side of her.

Kassanna took her time, shifting gradually. Still as a statue, Denver stared, obviously struck by her naked assets. Yeah, even though she hadn’t shown him her bare butt.

“You promised an outfit,” Kassanna reminded.

Faster than a rattlesnake’s strike, Denver slid out of his fancy cattleman’s jacket. He held it out to her, his face taut with strain, his expression enigmatic. With an exaggerated sway of her hips, Kassanna moved to him, and took hold of the jacket.

She slipped it on quick. The well-made garment, likely tailored for the man wearing it, engulfed Kassanna, hitting below her knees.

“Not quite the fit I was lookin’ for,” she bantered.

“Dante’s club has all sorts of clothing shops. How about we find you somethin’ that fits proper?” Denver offered his arm, his manner gentlemanly but with a possessive air, like a man who truly wanted a woman.

“Kassanna is my name, Denver,” she offered, following his lead back inside the bar. “Just remember I bite damn hard.”

“I’m countin’ on it, darlin’ Kassanna,” he bantered, his voice deliciously baritone.



Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance 


March 21, 2014

The Knight Cowboy Rescues a Maiden in Distress by Savanna Kougar

Filed under: Uncategorized — Savanna Kougar @ 6:26 pm



No, this is not our cowboy hero, just a fun pic I found.

Authoress news and mews ~




Springtime in the Country at the Kougar’s RAWHIDE AND SUNDOWN ROMANCE blog


Howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Apologies for the late posting, but it just can’t be helped given my current schedule.
Hope you had a memorable and fun St. Paddy’s day. This flash scene touches on Pat Cunningham’s holiday flash from yesterday.

The Knight Cowboy Rescues a Maiden in Distress

Zakary Dumond touched his heel to Sidewinder, his immortal paint stallion, and they entered the silvery gray whirl of the time-point portal. He was on a mission of mercy.

Long ago, after a cattle drive to Wichita, Kansas, he’d gotten good and inebriated while doin’ some fine celebrating with the other cowhands at a particularly routy saloon. He’d ducked out once the fists, bottles, and glasses started flying.

Cursing as he struggled to mount his horse, he’d finally hauled himself into the saddle. Not wanting to spend a nickel on room and board, he’d set out for the campsite. Given most of his pay still jangled in his pocket, he clutched the butt of his pistol as he swayed precariously. 

Zak planned on finding a sweet plot of ground, and starting up a dairy farm. The derisive laughter still rang in his ears, since he’d mistakenly confided his ambitions. But, hell, he’d had enough of eating dust, and chasing cattle through hide-ripping brush.

Even though the nearly full moon lit his way, Zak never made it to the campsite. He’d been about to fall out of the saddle, grabbing for his horse’s mane, when a heavy mist formed like a specter coming for his soul. Well, dang, it had appeared like a regular mist, but held not an ounce of moisture as he recalled.

In the blink of his admittedly bleary eye, Zak had been trapped in this strange gray tunnel moving like liquid around him. Stories told to him by an elderly Indian medicine man flashed into his head. A gateway to other times, other worlds.

Yep, and here he was, the cowboy dimensional traveler, as the Guides fondly referred to him. Zak had undergone rigorous training like the Knights of old. Heckfire, he’d jousted with the Knights in the Irish realm as he thought of it, and done himself right proud.

Hence, he’d been summoned by the Celtic King. During the Spring Fire Ceremony his eldest daughter, Khyleara, had been lured through the dimensional veil by the lilting lovely notes of a flute — given her natural ability to slip into other worlds. 

Before traveling the tunnel to rescue her, Zak had seen glimpses of the shapeshifter enclave — a town with the handle, Talbot’s Peak, located in the state of Montana in the year 2014. With a fair number of ranches in the area, and the Western culture still strong, he’d fit right in as a cowboy.

Sidewinder snorted and tossed his head as they emerged from the fogs of time. Zak took a moment, breathing in the familiar scents of pine, of the surrounding land now awakening from a long winter’s sleep. Isolated, Talbot’s Peak sat between forested mountains and great stretches of prairie.

Spotting the well-worn trail leading to town, Zak touched Sidewinder’s neck with the reins. The stallion stepped into a fast walk, his nose to the brisk winds.

“Yeehaawww!” … “Erin go broke!” Wild roaring whoops followed, and Zak instantly reined Sidewinder to the side of the trail. Just in time, as two oddly dressed riders on bright green horses galloped by. The smell of beer, of tiger, and magick plowed into Zak’s nostrils.

“Come on, stranger,” one of the young tiger-men of East Indian descent hollered. “We’re rescuing maidens in distress.”

Smiling despite himself, Zak loped Sidewinder in their wake. Why not? He figured — like he’d been informed by the Guides — that the two youths were celebrating the holiday, St. Patrick’s day.

Zak took real serious note on the magick used to turn their horses temporarily green. An ancient Egyptian potion, if he wasn’t mistaken. Careful to keep a tight rein on the eager stallion, he stayed a distance behind, so the fumes couldn’t alter Sidewinder’s coloring.

Maidens in distress? As Zak understood the ‘wearing of the green’ celebratin’ in these times, there were colorful, outlandish parades, drunken singing and brawls, often into the wee hours of the morning…but no games where fair maidens were rescued.

Heck though, chowin’ down on corn beef and cabbage, on boiled potatoes, Zak could almost taste it. ‘Cause he’d never lost his taste for this realm’s food. 

The sudden burn against his chest where he’d pocketed Khyleara’s jeweled ring, put Zak on immediate alert. She was close. As a child, Khyleara’s energy force had been bonded to the ring’s gems, and crystalline structure. 

Letting Sidewinder gallop behind the still ‘whooping it up’ tiger-men, Zak scanned for the faint, diamond sparkling beam of light that would lead him to Khyleara. The strength of the burn, not only told him she remained nearby, but that she hadn’t been harmed in any significant way. 

Mighty relieved, Zak lasered his focus, trusting the paint to keep his stride steady. Renowned for her warrioress prowess, Khyleara would not be easy prey. ‘Though, her disappearance had been darn mysterious. Even the Seers failed to picture the sinister flute player.

The clash of long blades suddenly echoed from the forest depths. Zak touched a knee to Sidewinder, sending him off the trail, and onto a downslope where the trees thinned. The stallion picked up speed yet kept his footing over the ground where remnants of snow still remained.

The sight that met Zak’s gaze had him hauling back on the reins, and blinking for an instant. Khyleara battled an invisible enemy, her blade whipping and flashing in strikes and countermoves. Glints of sunlight changed so swiftly, Zak could barely follow the moves of her favored weapon.

“Save yourself, Knight Cowboy,” she hollered, then whirled from her fearsome foe. Her bare toes skimmed the ground, and her fiery red tresses spun in long ropes.

From the corner of his eye, Zak glimpsed a watery form in the shape of a Phovus giant. Knowing it was now or never, he fast-drew his sorcery-infused sidearm, and signaled Sidewinder by leaning forward.

The stallion leaped, charging toward Khyleara. Zak took his only shot. The magickally altered lead bullet struck the giant’s forehead, and he started to materialize.

With a hideous, ear-splitting howl, the Phovus thundered after Khyleara just as Zak leaned to one side. Gripping Sidewinder with only his thighs, Zak caught hold of Khyleara’s waist, and swooped the fully naked woman up before him.

Given her natural athleticism, Khyleara seated herself clinging to him in a way that didn’t hamper their escape. Once the stallion galloped along the trail, and the giant’s pursuit ceased, Zak quipped, “It looks as though this is the day to rescue maidens in distress.”

“I am not distressed. Not in the least,” Khyleara sharply corrected, her tone affronted.

Zak merely grinned, and did some fine enjoyin’ of her naked charms pressed so tightly against him.



Have a Magickal Shapeshifting Week…  


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance 


March 14, 2014

Zondros, Ace Pilot and Monster Hunter by Savanna Kougar

Thursday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

This week we meet the hero who would rescue our fair werewolf witch from a pack of pursuing mutant werewolves.

Zondros, Ace Pilot and Monster Hunter

Zondros, ace pilot and monster hunter, swooped low over the tall pines but pushed his modified helicopter to full speed. The instant Dante had gotten wind that his sire, Damien, was on the move, the alpha wolf leader had contacted.

They’d been best buds through several skirmishes in the jungles of Thailand, rescuing hapless humans from the demon trolls who infested the outlying areas. Of course, this had been after they’d pummeled each other with bare fists for hours. Later over beers Zondros realized the werewolf was his ally, not a mindless fiend.

Zondros had been tracking a Bigfoot family in Colorado — protecting them from a black-ops team ordered to capture then bring them to a secret genetics lab — when he’d spotted a pack of roaming mutant werewolves. A month earlier, Dante had put the word out about the mutants to Zondros’ clandestine network of hunters – their mission: protect innocent humans and on-the-good-side *not humans* while hunting down the dangerous monsters.

Trouble was, Zondros hadn’t been able to discover the precise location of Damien’s mountain-shielded lab. Not until recently, when Gypsy Red Wolf and a witch named, Marissa, had heard an attempt at telepathic communication, then penetrated the layer upon layer of sorcery shrouding the Doctor Moreau lab.

From that point, the infiltrator who only identified herself as Wolf Friend, had loosed bursts of info infrequently, but enough so Zondros knew the compound’s approximate location, and had been on daily patrol. Waiting.

On his monitor, Zondros watched the smallish athletic woman burst out of her clothing then morph to wolf in the near blink of an eye. With a backpack between her shoulder blades, she shot from the lab’s hidden entrance. At a dead run the silver-coated wolfess raced along a route she’d obviously already planned out.

Concerned despite her amazing speed, Zondros smoothly dived toward a natural platform of rock. Quickly landing his small, nearly silent copter, he grabbed his ray blaster and jumped out.

Given his own superior strength, Zondros made quick tracks through the deep snow.  Sighting the gorgeous wolf digging furiously, he sprang on top of a flat-surfaced boulder, then hollered, “I’ve dispatched them, my lovely.”

With a snout full of brush, she whipped her gaze to him.  “Care to go for a ride on my copter?” he asked. “Dante sent me,” he added, when her eyes glowed savagely.

A split second later, she dropped the brush and raced in his direction. Zondros fired an energy blast at the charging pack of mutant werewolves. The micro-sound waves fried their limited brains enough to halt them, and send them into crazed nose-to-tail circles.

He launched off the boulder, waving at the brave wolfess to follow him. Side by side, they sprinted toward his low humming copter. The panel doors opened, recognizing his energy signature.

She sprang inside — one fluid motion — while Zondros hauled ass into his seat. With a few touches of his controls, he sailed them upward but on a trajectory away from the lab. Only the One Above knew what advanced-horror tech Damien possessed.

Keeping an eye on his sensors, he also eyed his panting passenger from his peripheral vision. She sat calmly, her gaze locked on his monitor.

Once they reached a high enough altitude, Zondros focused on flying, and hit his rockets as he called the copter’s double-barreled propulsion.

With a tight hold on his controls, Zondros gave his full attention to keeping them airborne. Flight could be tricky, especially if they entered a pocket of turbulence.

“How fast does this, this thing fly?” he heard a soft voice ask.

Zondros risked a sideways glance, and caught the naked woman reaching for a wool survival blanket. Re-focusing, he removed the image of beautiful, cocoa-tinted skin, of a long graceful arm, and a mop of pale, ginger-colored curls.

“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you,” he joked in his swaggering tone.

“Seriously?” she asked, the softness of her voice at odds with what he’d expected.

“No. Let’s say it’s close to the speed of sound. We’re headed for Talbot’s Peak,” he added to put the werewolfess at ease. “By the by, the name is Zondros.”

“Ah…” The word was a puff of air. “Do you know who you remind me of?” She paused, and Zondros resisted his rising lust, not looking at her from the corner of his eye.

“The Red Baron,” she continued. “You know, geared out in leather, scarf in the wind, the goggles, even that super rifle… how do you know Dante?”

“We got to know each other in Thailand during his world travels. Fisticuffs led to male bonding, you could say.”

Zondros felt her nod. “I’m Sulandra, his niece… but he’s never met me. You know, the secret baby thing.”

“Sulandra, a pleasure to meet you,” Zondros charmed and wished they were getting to know each other, having drinks at an upscale bar. “Secret baby?” he pursued, knowing she’d opened the door.

“Devon Hancock is my sire. I doubt he owns a damn clue, though. My mother is a witch, and she probably cast a spell…” her voice trailed away.

Forcing himself to concentrate, Zondros eased back on the copter’s speed and began his descent toward the shapeshifter enclave. He’d spent little time at the Pleasure Club, given his monster hunting missions. Now the desire to accept Dante’s standing invitation leaped up and grabbed him by the throat. Not to mention  his deprived cock activated itself at the mere thought of being with Sulandra. And he’d yet to see her face. Or her other beauteous attributes.

“Will you stay with me?” she asked, her tone even softer than before. “I — I don’t really know anyone, except telepathically. But not personally. And… there’s something about you I trust.”

Zondros swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. The werewolfess, and her unexpected vulnerability, had gotten to him already. “Count on it. Dante and I are overdo for a long catch-up conversation, and a barroom bash and crash.”

“Bash and crash,” she repeated, a giggle in her voice.

“Male bonding must be reinforced,” Zondros drily quipped.

“Talbot’s Peak is in mucho trouble.” Sulandra spoke in a sober tone.



Wishing you love and passion on the wild side … 



Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Originally published at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS.

March 8, 2014

Werewolf and Witch By Lineage by Savanna Kougar

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 romance on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~




Originally published at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS.

February 28, 2014

The Mutant-landia of Damien Hancock by Savanna Kougar


Pic from:

Thursday 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 Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Originally published at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS.



 Wishing you romance on the wild side…


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~




Originally published at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS.

February 20, 2014

Blade Runner ~ Rabbit to the Rescue by Savanna Kougar

Howls, yowls, and hops, Shapeshifter lovers.

So, our villain from Pat’s Monday flash scene, Cochrane, is loaded for bear and werewolves, and heading for the fair town of Talbot’s Peak… but doo-do-doo…. what really happens to the monster hunter?

Blade Runner ~ Rabbit to the Rescue

Blade Runner caught the glint in Dante’s eye as soon as his alpha wolf friend entered the Pleasure Club’s fight arena. Leaping, he morphed to rabbit humanoid, then dispatched his latest opponent with a rapid, continuous thump-thump of his feet.

True, the boar humanoid staggered backward one drunken-like step at a time as Blade Runner pounded his jaw, as he punished the hulking man-beast’s face with his kicks. Soon enough to suit the referee, the brute’s smallish eyeballs crossed, spun like wormholes, and disappeared upward. He bellowed a defeated grunt, then crashed against the curved side of the arena wall.

“Timber!” someone shouted from the whooping, cheering crowd.

“You will excuse me,” Blade Runner acknowledged the ringmaster. “I must tend to a matter of business.” He gave a nod toward Dante, who leaned arms folded, waiting for him.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Jarrod, the gator shifter dismissed. “When the boss man wants ya, no questions asked.”

Pausing only to slide into his fighter’s robe, then shift to his human form, Blade Runner made quick work of moving through the crowd. The semi smirk on Dante’s face clued him in. The alpha had an offbeat mission in mind, and obviously required Blade Runner’s assistance. 

“The wolf man with a plan?” Blade Runner raised his brow.

“Fresh organic carrot juice,” Dante tempted, arching his brow.

“You know I am unable to resist such a delight.” Blade Runner fell into step beside Dante as the wolf pivoted, striding down the corridor. “Is there a danger to the Peak? To our territory?”

“You could say that. Monster hunter named Cochrane has a grudge large as a bull elk against Vernon and the former mayor.”

“Ah, yes, I recall that amusing tale. I will assume this Cochrane wants his brand of revenge.”

Blade Runner followed Dante inside one of the club’s herbie juice bars — this one obviously closest to the fight arena. His nose twitched uncontrollably, filled with the fragrance of  freshly delivered carrots. He’d developed quite the fondness for the Earth vegetable, especially the heirloom varieties. 

“Revenge, yeah,” Dante growled, once Blade Runner had savored a tall glass of juice. “Cochrane has a car trunk full of serious weapons. He plans on playin’ the hero for humanity by going Rambo on Talbot’s Peak.”

“Rambo?” Blade Runner’s inner rabbit ears stood tall.

“Never mind.” Dante grinned, and leaned his elbows on their corner table. “Forgot you’re still learning about our culture, space bunny. Speaking of, is that UFO craft of yours operational right now?”

That perked Blade Runner’s ears even higher. “I took a spin the other night. Quite operational. What manner of mission do you have in mind?”

“Got backup plans in place.” Dante grinned like a wolf who knew his prey was helpless. “But scat, I like this plan a whole lot better. You know how we discussed those abductions by the Grays, and keeping those little bio-bots and their masters outta our skies.”


Enjoying the aerial chase, his blood sizzling fiercely, Blade Runner soared above Cochrane as he sped down the highway toward Talbot’s Peak. Of course, at this point the monster hunter didn’t realize he was the hunted — the one being tracked not only by the space rabbit, but by Dante’s ground team stationed along this stretch.

Just for his own amusement, Blade Runner hummed the tones from the movie, “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”. Ah, humankind and their imaginings… they had no idea about the breadth and depth of life in their solar system let alone life in the surrounding galaxy.

Be that as it may, Blade Runner had allowed himself to be attired in one of Lamar’s silver, stretch jumpsuits. He also wore an alien Gray Halloween mask made out of something dreadful called latex. Just to add his own sense of the weird, he poked his rabbit ears through two holes in the mask.

Once Cochrane traveled over a long straight section of the road — so anyone else driving could easily spot his stalled car — Blade Runner made his UFO move. He blasted Cochrane with a cone of white blinding light. At the same moment, he touched on a specialized laser beam shutting the car’s engine down.

For seconds, Blade Runner let Cochrane stew in the juices of his own terror. “Having fun now, monster hunter?” he muttered, before activating his *beam me up Scottie* tech, which was really only for gathering rock and flora specimens. It should work without scrambling too much of the idiot human’s genes and particle matrix.

Of course, the man’s garments wouldn’t survive the trip aboard his craft. Blade Runner prepared himself mentally for the ugly lumpy sight. Mirth also caused him to chuckle at the big bad hunter’s *I’m bare-ass naked* predicament.

“Ah yes, I need the proper probe, don’t I?” Blade Runner reminded himself.

Cochrane landed with a decided thump on the flat surface Blade Runner used to prepare meals. “Hover. Shields up,” he spoke to the craft’s control core. A soft buzz sounded  letting him know they were now invisible to advanced-tech sweeps.

“On with the show,” Blade Runner bolstered himself for the task ahead.  Neural wand in hand — especially effective against humans — he moved within his kitchen.

Menacingly, Blade Runner pointed the silvery wand at the blinking but surprisingly alert Cochrane. “What’s up, doc?” Blade Runner greeted, his voice muffled by the mask. Inside, he grinned at his Bugs Bunny imitation, most probably lost on his captive.

The beast-distasteful human lifted his head, staring the proverbial daggers. “You fucking alien freak, where am I?”

Blade Runner zapped the bravado-stupid human between his blackhole-looking eyes. His over-large head hit the hard surface. Crack!

“Obedience is required, pathetic creature,” he intoned, using a semi-robotic voice — the affect likely unheard due to the mask.

Cochrane stayed dead still for several minutes. “Probe me,” he dared in a voice like a buzz saw, a term Blade Runner now understood. “Get it over with. I know you alien freakazoids aren’t allowed to kill us.”

“Your knowledge astounds me, mere human.” Blade Runner moved so he stood beside the ghastly smelling monster hunter. He pointed the wand at his ape-hairy chest.

By the cosmos, Cochrane’s odor could knock out planetary life for miles around. Blade Runner resisted the urge to douse him with a cleansing ray bath. For that matter any shapeshifter worth his nose would have scented the hunter’s arrival, and cleared out, or taken the mental midget down.

“What?” Cochrane challenged, his tone nasty as a bulldog with a rotten tooth… Blade Runner had crossed paths with such a beast once. “Alien motherfucker? Aren’t you going to turn me over, and stick that probe up my butt?”

Blade Runner winced at the thought. “Your genes are hardly worth a butt probe. Although… come to think of it, your genetic code could serve as a warning of how not to seed another planet world.”

“Wait!” the monster hunter’s voice boomed like a crack of thunder, and fear edged his tone. He eyed Blade Runner’s rabbit ears for long seconds, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. “You’re… you’re one of those mutant hybrids. From the secret lab. That hell-mad doctor is real. So, you cowardly ugly aliens are collaborating…”

“Collaborating!?” Blade Runner boomed back, the sound carrying despite his mask. “Why would we bother with a mad scientist on Earth? Those are a dime a dozen, to phrase it in your colloquial terms. Our labs are quite sufficient –”

Cochrane writhed in an attempt to leap up. Blade Runner zinged a pulse into his heart muscle, lightly shocking him. The big bad monster hunter gurgled a scream, laying inert as unformed clay. 

“You crude beasts never learn,” Blade Runner reprimanded. “No wonder your planet is a prison world.”

Given the allotment of time had passed for Dante’s crew to liberate Cochrane’s cache of weaponry, Blade Runner decided he’d endured enough. About to press his palm device and activate the return beam, he heard the smelly, hapless hunter croak, “What’s up, doc? That’s what you said.”

“Eh, what’s up, doc?” Blade Runner cartoon-voiced. Indeed, amusement was where you found it.

“I got it,” Cochrane sneered. “You’re in league with those filthy bastards, the Chinese. They got that Jade Rabbit rover on the moon. This is some sort of creepy inside joke, right… Bugs Bunny?”

“You’re brainy assessment is quite wrong.” Blade Runner waggled his rabbit ears. “With all of your research on monsters, don’t you know?” He paused for dramatic affect. “Bugs Bunny, as you refer to him, is one of us.”






Wishing you romance on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Originally published at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS.

February 14, 2014

Valentine’s Day Dream Date at the Amour Afire Nightclub by Savanna Kougar



Valentine’s Day Dream Date at the Amour Afire Nightclub 
Saldana let her feminine side have free rein. Positively giddy, she admired the red patent leather high heels then slipped her feet inside as if performing a ritual. She bent at the waist and caressed up her leg over the silkiest pair of stockings she’d ever owned. Gold and silver dusted, the sheer hose accentuated the shape of her calf.

Keeping her apprehensive thoughts at bay, Saldana straightened and gazed at her reflection in the full length, three way mirror that had been exquisitely crafted.  Everything about her room at the Interspecies Pleasure Club was classy in the extreme.

The alpha-wolf owner, Dante, possessed a reputation for exceptional quality — that is, according to several of her new friends in Talbot’s Peak. No stranger to elegant digs, still Saldana had been wonderfully surprised.

Smiling, reminded of times past, she’d spent an hour simply indulging in the loveliness of her surroundings, and in dark chocolate truffles infused with apple brandy.

Saldana stared, entranced by her reflection.  After a toss of her waist length hair, she smoothed her hand over her hip thoroughly enjoying the satiny fabric of her evening dress. The hot-pink number made her look like a sixties starlet yet flashier.

The ice-pink gems of her necklace, bracelet, and droplet earrings contrasted with her golden skin tone. Epona above, she felt ultra-bombshell sexy — shades of her old, high-spirited lifestyle.

“Take my breath away,” Saldana murmured, praying for a good date. On the heels of her words, she became acutely aware of how long it had been since she’d dressed for an evening out. Worse, for a date.

But then, her last date some two years ago on Valentine’s Day… Saldana involuntarily shuddered. She nastily chilled down to the soles of her high heels. Grabbing large breaths, and grabbing hold of her composure, she steadied herself.

The nightmares still plagued her, and she still struggled to overcome being kidnapped. Or, in her case, filly-napped.

Instinctively, Saldana bared her teeth and her inner horse ears flattened. If she ever ran across that son of a flea-bitten nag who’d sold her to a Dr. Moreau mad scientist — hell on a galloping hoof, she’d rip and bloody his hide whether in stallion or human form.

Instead of declaring his love for her, Mario had bargained away her hide to an entire group of the creepazoid psychos. She’d been drugged, crated, and shipped to their private, island of horrors — somewhere in the Indian ocean. Saldana trembled.

“I’m safe.” Saldana forced her lips to curl into a smile. “Safe,”  she whispered.

Determined to enjoy the Valentine’s Day Dream Date she’d won for having one of the worst dates ever, Saldana shook off the painful memories. Using gorgeous posters, Dante had advertized the Pleasure Club’s Heart Mate contest throughout Talbot’s Peak.

The ten winners were to be wined and dined at the newest nightclub, Amour Afire, an elegant torch singer bar inside Dante’s massive underground complex. Best of all, Gypsy Red Wolf and her witches circle were to be the matchmakers, conjuring up the perfect date for each winner.

How could a heart-lonely filly resist?


Zhor took a quick swallow of his Koval Oat Whiskey. Glass in hand, he strolled scoping out the lay of the land  — in this case, the layout of the Amour Afire nightclub.

As an international security professional, or a mercenary for hire according to his enemies, it was second nature. It was survival.

Nose to the wind, Zhor checked for his arranged date. Covering his action automatically — as he would on a mission — Zhor tossed down another swallow.

The woman filly who crested his neck, flashed his tail, and raged his hormones to super stud would be walking inside the Amour Afire soon. Zhor wanted her scent filling his nostrils.

Snort and blow, anxiousness grabbed him by the balls. He cast another glance toward the club’s entrance, a red and black swanky affair.  Given the night was still young, the patrons filtered in, all of them dressed to Parisian fashion standards yet with classic American glamor — as Zhor thought of it. 

He felt at ease, given his rescue and private protection missions demanded he adapt to any situation, be able to infiltrate any strata of society — travel in every social circle.

As he watched and waited, Zhor’s inner stallion shook his head, and pawed impatiently. From this day forward, he planned on moving heaven and earth to protect Saldana, as he’d done once before. Her sire had hired him and his balls-to-the-walls team, pronto, the instant his daughter failed to return home as expected — some two years past.

Zhor chafed at the bit to geld the son of a dirty nag who’d betrayed Saldana. But he well knew the game of patience that life often required.

As it was then, so it was now. Her welfare remained his top priority. Ever since rescuing Saldana, Zhor watched over her from afar — with her father’s blessings.

Now… now Epona placed destiny in his hands. All he had to do was be her dream date.

With a gliding sensual gait, Saldana entered the nightclub. Zhor straightened to rigid attention, boldly eyeing his gorgeous woman filly. His stud desire galloped at full speed as she gave her golden-red mane a toss, then swayed in his direction.

The slide of the hot pink satin over her hips caused Zhor to nearly a gulp down his oat whiskey, the distraction needed if he was to remain gentlemanly. Caution, he warned himself.

Saldana’s naturally high spirit had not completely returned, but remained dampened by the ordeal she’d endured before he could free her. Zhor scowled, immediately erasing his features as she caught sight of him — of the telltale pink rosebud pinned to the lapel of his dark evening jacket.

She hesitated, but only briefly. Assuming an air of bravado, Saldana approached. Only the slight flare of her nostrils let him know how fragile she felt at seeing him again.

“Zhor.” She breathed out his name, a sultry note in her voice. “You look as good in evening wear as in soldier of fortune fatigues.” Before he could speak, Saldana stepped closer, and raised her gaze to his. “So, Gypsy Red Wolf chose you as my dream date. As I recall…” her tone hoofed him square in the flank, “after one kiss you rejected my advances.”

“I did, mon cher.” Zhor caught hold her hand, tightening his grip a bit when she resisted. With deliberate command, he raised her soft hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss on the indentation above her wrist. Then, he lingered a kiss on the center of her palm.

Feeling her melt toward him, Zhor grazed the underside of her wrist with his lips. Once her breaths quickened, and her pulse raced, he gently lowered her hand. “My Saldana, I did not want gratitude to blaze your passions. You must know such affairs often burn out — the brief flight of a shooting star. I want much more with you.”

“Do you?” she murmured a moment later.

Zhor watched as Saldana’s dark golden eyes transformed from misty desire to sparking jewels. Her jaw firmed, and her lush lips thinned with determination.

Amused, Zhor released her hand as she gave a strong tug. “I do, filly mine. I want a much longer ride with you.”

“The way you gallivant around the world… no.” The next instant her demeanor softened, and sadness owned her expression. “Not to say I would want you to stop … stop rescuing others. Never…”

“Saldana, it might interest you to know I have accepted a position with Dante. On his Security team, of course.”

Confusion knitted her brow, then something faint flickered in the depths of her eyes only to be replaced by curiosity. “What changed? I mean… Dad, others have relied on you, and your team for so long.”

Zhor didn’t lie. He didn’t need to. “The time comes when a man knows his path has run its course, Saldana. That change is his ally.” Zhor offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “How about the pleasures of champagne to begin our evening?”

Saldana trembled before accepting his presented arm. All that mattered to Zhor was her small arm twined with his, and she moved beside him.

“Are you so certain about changing your course?” Uncertainty rang like a bell in her voice.

“If I may also confide, such adventure no longer calls my name.” Zhor felt his woman filly’s tension ease, and knew she had accepted him at his word.

“The team? Does Dad know?” she asked, sidling closer to him.

“Yes, your sire knows, my Saldana. The team is very much operational — in the capable hands of my younger brother, Zherxes.”

“Ah, perfect. Well then, let’s see how good you are at being my dream date.” Her tone challenged and teased.

Zhor’s inner stallion kicked up his heels.


Got a favorite Valentine’s Day story? Good or bad, happy or sad. Tell us in the comments. Today, our favorite will win a free PDF copy of “Stallion of Ash and Flame”. Tomorrow will be another Valentine flash scene from the Peak, and another  giveaway!


Wishing you romance on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Originally published at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS.
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