ShapeShifter Kisses

May 30, 2012

How to Obedience Train a White Wolf ~ Hint: You don’t. by Savanna Kougar

Tuesday kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

Okay, it’s all Pat’s fault at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS. I’m following her ‘lead’ and taking my cue from her fabulous flash scene on Monday titled, Back to School.

Yes, this is another *obedience training your wolf* scene. Only trouble is, my flash fiction doesn’t have quite the clever cachet, and my heroine doesn’t know the dog on the other end of the leash is a wolf, and not a hybrid.

Still, it was fun to write.

How to Obedience Train a White Wolf ~ Hint: You don’t.

Kymber huffed a long sigh, then blew her long thick bangs out of the way. How she’d gotten talked into this… well, yeah, her stupid jackass of an ex — he brayed like a  damn donkey when he climaxed — had promised to buy her a puppy she couldn’t afford, telling her she should assist at the obedience training class to prepare — give the pup a good home.

Shuddering, Kymber forced the terrible image of her braying ex out of her mind, then gazed down at the roster. It took several blinks to focus, but yep, everyone was present, even after last week’s bizarre, more-than-crazy episode. That is, of course, except for the weird woman, herself, who smacked her colossal wolf with a ruler.

So too bad, Kymber had missed the beastly mating antics in the corridor, and had to hear about it secondhand. At the time she’d been chasing after a Yorkie who escaped his leash. Yeah damn, okay, she’d caught the YouTube vid later… however, the only thing captured by the phone camera had been two wolf-looking dogs covered in fire extinguisher foam.

Hearing the shrill voice of a kid shouting curses that should get him grounded with no computer access for at least a week, Kymber shot her gaze toward the gym’s entrance. What the… what was with all the wolf hybrids?

A monster of a dog with a snow-white coat tugged a freckle-faced boy inside. “Like a husky pulling a sled,” Kymber muttered.

She suppressed an urge to laugh as the infuriated boy clenched his teeth and kept trying to dig his heels in on the slick floor. The kid’s face turned beet red with his effort, and his futile attempts to yank on the long leather leash were downright comical.

But why was the monster wolf-dog now making a beeline toward her, as if she’d been changed into a liver treat by a wicked witch with a serious itch to use her new, super-powered wand?  

Okay, so her imagination was vivid, silly, and running amok as usual. Still, that didn’t account for the fact that the white mountain of a dog now locked his dark intense gaze with hers.

With the boy in tow, the wolf-dog pulled like a steam engine — as she’d heard the expression — only stopping when he stood before her. Crap, his black wet nose was level with her belly button. Kymber clutched the  clipboard roster hard.

“Problem?” She spoke with far more steadiness than she felt.

“That’s the last time I ever do you a favor!” The kid shouted at the dog. “I don’t care what mom says. I don’t care if you can’t shift… friggin’ A-hole. Here.” The red-faced boy flung the leash at Kymber, and she automatically caught hold of it. “He belongs to you now.”

“Wait!” Kymber shouted as the kid spun around, then stomped away at a rapid pace.  “Wait, I don’t want to take him to the dog pound.”

“He d-e-s-e-r-v-e-s the pound,” the boy flung over his shoulder.

Before Kymber could think about chasing him down, the kid disappeared out of the gym. In the meantime, the dog shoved his large muzzle against the V of her thighs, seemingly very much at home with her.

When she moved the clipboard out of the way, then slowly gazed downward, the monster dog pricked his ears high on his handsome head, and looked at her attentively. Was that lust flickering in his eyes?

No, it couldn’t be. Must be her over-active imagination once again. Kymber mentally shook herself as she twined the leather lead around her hand, a natural move. She’d been a dog walker in New York city for a couple of years.

“I don’t even know your name.”

After a rumbly woof that sort of sounded like ‘Stephan’, the wolf-dog sat on his hindquarters nice as you please — as if she’d commanded him to ‘sit’.

“Since it appears as if this… animal, is going to behave, I’ll get the class started. Will you be staying?”

Kymber snapped her gaze upward at Mrs. Murphy’s understandably tense voice. “Sure… unless he drags me out. Sorry, lame attempt at humor — I don’t know what to think.”

“Never had these,” Mrs. Murphy paused, “unusual situations. Until I moved to Talbot’s Peak.”

“Yeah, I know. Me too. But it looks like everything is okay,” Kymber hastened to add, even as her stomach somersaulted like mad.

With a nod, Mrs. Murphy departed.

“Heel,” Kymber ordered, just to find out what would happen.


Zhevan smartly whipped around as he’d seen obedience dogs do when they performed, and sat beside the woman who smelled like his dream goddess.

Such a bummer he couldn’t morph into his human form, not for three more days. Playing an out of town, week-long gig with his rock band — a commitment made before he and his white wolf pack settled permanently in Talbot’s Peak  —  he’d  foolishly stayed human.

Yeah, truth to Mother Moon, there’d been a good reason at the time. Too many cops had been hanging around the club looking for any excuse to bust the owner. He’d refused to pay them protection money.

The cops’ electronic spy gadgets had been a dime a dozen at the club. Then, he’d heard their subtle whine the instant he’d stepped inside the band’s shared hotel room.

Zhevan had decided to forego shifting to wolf with his pack mates, and watch over their instruments. Beside, it gave him a chance to sleep in.

Playing regularly at The Pleasure Club took its *he wouldn’t trade it for anything* toll. Howls of confession, he’d never been anywhere close to saint when it came to females, and the wolfen bitches had been hotter than Hades on the day of Judgement. And hot for him.

Now, all Zhevan wanted with a savagery that raced his heart as if he’d run the forest all night — was the human woman who knew how to hold a leash. His leash.

Oh howl yeah, she’d figure him out. When to unleash him. When to hold the lead good and tight. When to… but that was the future, their future as mates.

Mating wisdom, bred into him generation after generation, told him to seize ‘now’ with her. A nearly impossible challenge, since her irresistible scent wrapped around his cock and squeezed.

Basking in her female fragrance, Zhevan leaned against her curvaceous thigh and made himself comfortable. All he had to do was pretend to be her obedience dog. At least, for the next three days until he could morph. Then…he licked his chops.  

Scat, he needed to concentrate. Be her dog. The one she would never take to the pound.

“Heel,” she smartly commanded, then strode forward.

Zhevan obeyed, careful to keep pace with her. Later, he would let his mate know he was the alpha wolf in charge, that her obedience training in pleasure had now begun.

Have a shapeshifter kind of day!


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

This blog was originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS by the author.

May 22, 2012

Look into the face of the dragon and don’t despair… by Savanna Kougar

Late Tuesday kisses, shapeshifter lovers, and happy Sun in Gemini. 

With all the trademark-silly hoopla around the name, Adele, I thought I’d do my part to thumb my nose at the big corporate entertainment media. Their efforts to immorally crush any competition is beyond the pale. In this case, the pale horse shapeshifter.

Before I disappoint anyone, no, the pale horse is not the hero of this flash scene. I just get caught up in these off-the-wall tangents. That said, I am using the name, Adele, for my heroine.


Look into the face of the dragon and don’t despair…

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the un-fairest of them all?” Adele scrutinized her face in the enormous oval mirror she’d inherited from her great grandmother.

“I don’t see a problem.” She swivelled her head from side to side studying her features. “I like how I look. And, I like who I am.”

For long moments, Adele stared at her eyes, what her mother described as gold and violet sparks. “I mean, I’d date me if I were a man. I’d ask ‘me’ out so fast my head would spin a thousand miles an hour.”

Sighing as the same old confusion plagued her yet again, Adele moved toward her bed. Dispirited to the max, she plopped down, and ignored the streaks of light flashing across the mirror’s surface.

Men, even those who were supernaturals, didn’t seem interested in her, and she’d never been able to understand why. Adele had analyzed it to death over the years. But, dinosaur crap, she might as well dig a grave and toss the whole mess in. Give it a decent burial and be done with it.

Whenever she’d confided in anyone, all they would tell her was the same old BS about ‘someday your prince will come’. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want a prince. Not that she would refuse one if…

Adele clenched her eyelids so hard they hurt. She blinked her eyes just to ease the pain.

Often, for the last month or so, it felt like her heart was being shredded, as if it’d been torn from her chest and tossed into a wood chipper.

Okay, so she couldn’t do the aggressive-woman thing, and go after some hunky guy, ask him out on a date. Although, she never had any problem engaging a man in a conversation, a good soul-deep conversation at times.

No, she’d never even had a problem working side-by-side with any male at a regular ole job. Of course, those pretending-to-be-normal days were over now that her magickal nature matured.

“Yeah, and here I thought my bad mojo would change once we moved to Talbot’s Peak. Home of about every supernatural there is.” Adele grabbed one of her pillows, and crushed it against her middle.

“And I hate the name, Adele,” she spat. Angry, frustrated, she whipped her head back and forth. Her long straight hair slapped her face and shoulders.

With a sharp cry of despair, she let herself fall backward, smacking against the mattress. “It’s not even my real name,” she moaned.

But, she couldn’t speak her real name. An enemy could use it to control her, and her magick.

“Stuck with a stupid name. Saturday night, and I’m stuck in my bedroom.” Popping her head up, she glared at the mirror. “And stuck with an enchanted mirror who won’t help me.”  

Oh yeah, she’d fantasized a million times about going to the Interspecies Pleasure Club. Disco dancing night in particular. However, without the balancing energies of a man, her powers could act up, or act out with disastrous results.

On pure impulse, Adele shot upwards hurling the pillow at the mirror. With her eyes mere slits, and her breath coming in bursts, she waited for something. Anything.

“Ouch, pretty one.”

She waited a beat. “Ouch?” she demanded, her ire rising. Not that the mirror had ever spoken to her before. As in words.

More, it had been thoughts, impressions placed inside her mind. Or images appeared on the mirror’s surface rather like looking into a crystal ball.

“How about? Look into the face of the dragon and don’t despair,” the deeply masculine voice intoned.

“Isn’t that supposed to be ‘look into the face of the dragon and despair’?” Adele snarked yet spoke in a serious warlock tone.

“Yes, pretty one. Merlin said that line in “Excalibur”. What the humans here call a movie.”

With no mercy, curiosity tugged at her causing Adele to rise from the bed. Still, she hesitated.  “And just who are you? Oh, wait, I know. You’re the man in the mirror. Instead of the man in the moon. Although, come to think of it, you could be the man in the moon, but you’ve switched to my mirror.”

A hearty laugh emanated from the mirror. “Ah, yes, I was told your tongue is particularly clever and pointed.”

Adele crept closer. She observed no image, and a heightened level of frustration gripped her. “You haven’t answered my question, mirror man.”

“I’ll tell you my name if you tell me your name.”

The intensity behind the ultra-deep sexy voice sizzled through her entire body lighting her up like a torch. “Adele,” she quickly answered.

“Your real name.”

“Your ‘real’ name first.”

“Why don’t we discuss it?” the voice gentlemanly seduced.

Adele halted in her tracks. A hypnotizing swirl of light covered the mirror’s surface.  Brighter and brighter, it gleamed.

She fell forward, a force pulling on her. Oh hell no! She was being sucked inside the mirror.

Disoriented, Adele crazily spiraled through some type of portal. A whirlwind seemed to seize her, and she wondered how her molecules held together.


Not in control of herself, Adele landed face down on a good-sized lap. Like a big doll, she lay across thighs that were masses of muscle.

“Finally, my pretty one, I have you.” Huge hands wrapped around her waist, and lifted her upright.

In those moments, her faculties returned somewhat. “Djinn,” Adele uttered, as he positioned her on his lap.

“Not only a djinn, my fire elemental, but a shapeshifter. As you are also a shape changer.”

Even though, her eyes still felt as if they slowly spun in their sockets, Adele gazed into brilliant blue eyes flecked with silver. “Shapeshifter?”

“Look into the face of the dragon and don’t despair.”

Shaken to her core, still Adele’s resilience asserted itself. “I am not telling you my real name, Djinn Dragon.”

“Not even for a night of Saturday Night Fever at the Interspecies Pleasure Club?”

Adele started, but clamped her lips. She wasn’t going to ask how he knew. Of course, if he possessed access to her mirror, then…

“Want to see the disco outfits I have purchased for you?” the Djinn Dragon tempted, his voice like devil-red velvet.

When she didn’t answer, and shut her eyes against temptation, his hand stroked over her hair. “More beautiful than gazing at you through the looking glass,” he rasped. “Your tresses are the color of a fire’s heart.”

Adele didn’t dare open her eyes. Goddess, but he smelled like every pleasurable sin she’d ever thought of indulging in. “Where are we?”

“Where else, my sweet flame? The Pleasure Club, inside my rooms.”

Her tongue finally won out over any common sense. “Take me dancing, and I might…might tell you my real name.”

“Ah, the wielding of power. So it shall be, pretty one. Your wish is my command”

Have a shapeshifter kind of day!


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

This blog was originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS by the author.

May 15, 2012

Alliance, Shere Khan’s Offerings by Savanna Kougar

Tuesday kisses, shapeshifter lovers.
It’s the middle of May… can you believe it?

So, this flash scene stars that omnipresent villain, Shere Khan, leader of the Tiger Yakuza in Talbot’s Peak.

Dugger, the dingo man, also stars in the lead role as the hero. With a common, take-no-prisoners enemy threatening The Peak, will a temporary alliance be formed?


Alliance, Shere Khan’s Offerings

As tiger, Shere Khan muscled his way through the night forest. Uncaring about who or what heard his approach, he thundered a roar without a pause in his stride. Shere Khan listened with satisfaction as the sound echoed around him.

Because of their agreed-upon mind connection, for now, he knew Dugger, the dingo shapeshifter, had been alerted. The negotiation for their tête-à-têt had been quite the mental challenge, and by the end, Shere Khan had gained a new respect for the crafty down-under canine.

Several of Shere Khan’s top ninjas followed in his wake, soaring above the treetops. The inept fools who had allowed Ravi’s future bride to escape had been placed in disgrace — shipped back to Shere Khan’s cousin, a minor player in the Yakuza empire.

Shere Khan curled his lips and loosed a snarl that struck terror in the hearts of his many enemies. While the use of magick assisted him in the subtle dance of gaining and keeping power, his raw strength suited his purpose and his mood now.

Ignoring the scurrying panic of rodent species and ground-nesting poultry, Shere Khan smashed through a thick web of entangled limbs. He had yet to choose a particularly severe punishment for the girl’s father. His false tongue about his daughter’s willingness to be a debt payment, was not to be tolerated.

Yet, on the grand chessboard of life, Nilambari’s escape offered Shere Khan a bargaining chip. Of late, he had spent many a restless night pondering on the current times — this ferocious and pivotal Dragon Year of 2012.

Changes in the balance of power were on the near horizon, a balance that no longer favored the Tiger Yakuza. Further, one vital truth had emerged during his deep investigation of the Global League.

Their plan for world dominion would mean the extermination of not only the Yakuza as a fearsome competitor, but of his tiger shapeshifter kind.

Shere Khan uttered a long rumbling growl against such an unacceptable fate.


Already shifted to his man form, Dugger lounged against the barrel-sized tree trunk. He listened to the smash-crash arrival of Shere Khan as he cleaned beneath his nails with his large throwing blade. Mother Moon shone like a spotlight overhead.

‘Yeah, see ’em before my mind’s eye. Several black pajamas,’ he telepathed back to Symone, his beautiful, dimension-hopping sheila.

So far, it’d been painful as a roo’s kick to the gut gaining her trust. But he was finally winning her over.

Earlier, he’d nearly jumped for bloody joy when she agreed to be his lookout, watching out for his ass during his summit meeting with the Yakuza leader. Given the Global League’s invasion of their territory, he, Dante, and White Fang had agreed it was the best course of action for the sake of Talbot’s Peak.

Even now, Dante, as werewolf, was positioned to his right, hidden by the deep shadow of a rock outcropping, a good two stories in height. On his left, White Fang observed from atop a high waterfall, ready to swoop down — be the superhero to the rescue.

Dugger had discovered right quick that Symone’s sharpshooter skills were as bang-on deadly at night as in the daylight. As she’d explained, some of what was labeled junk DNA by the looney scientists on this side of the dimensional curtain had been activated in her. Both by her desperate need to survive impossible circumstances, and later by specialized lab technicians.

Lifting his gaze, Dugger watched Shere Khan halt at the edge of the large clearing. Without a glance his way, and within moments — hell, like a damn magical spell out of a storybook — the Yakuza morphed from white tiger to his human form.

Yeah, just as he’d figured, the old gods ran in the tiger shifter’s veins from the looks of him. Confirmed, when one of his ninjas floated a silk-thread, ornate robe around his shoulders, as if from on high.

Dugger sheathed his blade with a flip of his wrist, then straightened away from the tree trunk. “Spit and polish duds for out here in the woods, don’t you think? But, I guess you are king of the crime mountain.”

Shere Khan offered him a wan smile once they faced each other in the center of the clearing. His eyes, however, sparked with fire-devouring intelligence, the type Dugger respected as downright, run-for-a-cave dangerous. If he was in a runnin’ mood. He wasn’t.

“King of the crime mountain,” Shere Khan formally intoned. “A title I find quite acceptable. My apologies, dingo, my wit does not extend to such cleverness with titles. May I address you as Dugger as you originally introduced yourself? Or perhaps, you wish to be addressed by what would be called your last name, here in the states.”

“Dugger’ll do. What’s on your mind precisely? Thought we’d agreed on a meeting of the minds during the dark of the moon.”

“So it was planned, yes. However, I suddenly find within my grasp an offering of good faith. Two offerings, perhaps.”

“Is this about the brave young woman who escaped your clutches — as they used to say in the dime pulp novels I read?”

“I know you will dismiss my words, dingo. I will state them for the record, as the politicians say in that useless body known as the congress.”

“Yeah?” Dugger raised a brow. Since his hackles weren’t giving him fits yet, Dugger didn’t snake a hand toward his blade. “What is it?”

Shere Khan drew in a yoga-like breath, and his features became serene, reminding Dugger of a decorative pond on a fancy estate. “I was under the impression the young woman wished to come to me as a bride for my son. Her father deceived me. Or should I say his words deceived the one I sent as representative to settle a rather large debt.”

For the bloody life of him, Dugger couldn’t smell, hear or see a lie. Maybe, he hadn’t daggered beneath the tiger’s enigmatic gaze, though. “Listening,” he growled.

“I will cease any effort to recover Nilambari to demonstrate my interest in our mutual alliance against the Global League.”

“You said ‘two offerings.” Dugger’s inner dingo ears pricked at the near-silent movements of Shere Khan’s ninjas. At the same time, he heard Symone power up her science-fiction rifle, preparing to shoot. “You better warn your black pajama boys to stay still as a tick havin’ a right good blood feast.”

“Ah, yes, your sharpshooter partner. I am in awe of her efficient ability to eliminate our common enemy.” Shere Khan unfolded his arms, and slightly waved his right hand. “For the sake of time and trust, and before one of my ninjas becomes too zealous in their duty to protect me, my second offering–”

Shere Khan’s next words were lost amid the sudden bedlam of an attack. Super soldiers by Dugger’s nose. Dante’s blood-chilling growl shook the air, and Dugger heard his short running charge, his leap, then the crunch of his fangs. The ripping began.

In a tornadic spin, White Fang arrived. He fought side-by-side with the ninjas, battling twenty — by Dugger’s count — of the bio-machine enhanced Global League squad.

He and Shere Khan had spun and stood back to back, their weapons raised. Like stuffed dummies, soldiers began falling around them, all courtesy of Symone, his sheila sharpshooter.

“That’s my girl,” Dugger whispered. “Won’t even let me use my big bad blade.”

‘Not yet anyway,’ he added to himself, thinking of his ‘big bad blade’ down under.

“You were saying?” Dugger spoke over his shoulder, once the few remaining soldiers were being mopped up.

“If your sharpshooter wishes to return to her time, to her earthly dimension, I am in possession of a proto vortex unit.”

Dugger didn’t question, for now, how Shere Khan knew. Bloody hell, his every particle screamed against telling Symone. But tell her he would.

He would also use every dingo trick in the book, and on Earth, to make her stay with him.

Have a shapeshifter kind of day!


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~


This blog was originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS by the author.

May 8, 2012

The Dingo Man and His Time-Sliding Sharpshooter by Savanna Kougar


ImagePic from ~

Tuesday kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

Dugger, my Dingo Shapeshifter makes a return appearance in this Flash Scene. Since his last appearance was without a heroine, in this scene Dugger finds the woman who wags his inner tail like no other.

Warning, though: Violence ensues.

The Dingo Man and His Time-Sliding Sharpshooter  

Reeling with dizziness, Symone pushed to her feet, her training as a warrior instinctive. What appeared to be a tall-tree forest whirled crazily before her blinking gaze.

Familiar smells hit her nostrils. Only a year ago, she and her posse had routed out the last of the Global League infestation in the Montana Territory. Thus, ending the occupation of North America.

But, what the frant? Why was she here? She resided in the Arizona Republic.

Symone swung her Long Gun from her shoulder as she’d done thousands of times, automatically positioning her trusty weapon in one smooth motion.

True, she still couldn’t sight worth a good damn. Her eyes refused to focus.

Bang! Symone realized why. It hit her the same way she routinely blasted her targets, in the absolute center.

That straight-from-hell idiot had shoved her into the time-sliding device as a practical joke. Then Mr. Nerd had stumbled against the panel array activating a vortex.

Frant it! Who knew where she’d ended up, exactly. And, on what Earth? How was she…?

Hearing the telltale snap of twigs, Symone whipped around, and took aim. Even though her head spun nastily, her vision cleared enough to see three helmeted heads above the brushy tangle of foliage.

Enemy scouts not fifty feet away! They moved at a stealthy pace parallel to her position. Without thought, Symone took her shots.

One, two, three. Dead center. Her target had been the penny-sized bare patch of flesh left exposed beneath their ears.

Symone glimpsed them drop from sight, then whirled behind the nearest tree trunk. A young oak, it barely concealed her. Hearing their lifeless bodies thud against the ground, she raised her Long Gun, and prepared to fire again.

Likely, the rest of the squad were nearby. Adrenaline flowed through Symone like a storm-fed river as she waited.

Her ability to cast a sixth-sense net deployed. Yet, Symone observed none of the other mercenary soldiers before her mind’s eye.  

Instead, she wheeled around at the sound of a man’s casually approaching footsteps, as if he hiked a trail. How her psi net had missed him…but he wore no helmet.

“What the frant?” she murmured, staring at his down-under gear, his Crocodile Dundee hat.  

With his large blade sheathed, and no other weapon she could detect, Symone lowered her Long Gun, but slowly — once he halted, some twenty yards from her.  

“You saved me the trouble, Sheila.”

“Aussie,” she tossed toward him. “What are you doing in the northern hemisphere?”


Dugger didn’t recognize the design of any garment the gorgeous human woman wore — from her leg-hugging, charcoal-colored boots… her leggings made out of a fabric that resembled chestnut suede… and the dark green corset-style jacket. But he bloody well appreciated the tight way the thin materials trapped her figure.

Nor did Dugger recognize the rifle like weapon she held on him like a right expert for several long moments — which irritated the spit and piss out of him.

‘Right expert’, he mocked himself. Holy dooley, hadn’t she just dropped three of his prey with only three shots. And her weapon had been near as silent as he’d ever heard. There’d been only a soft whine with each bullet fired.

Dugger continued roving his gaze over her, and his inner dingo yipped with excitement, then panted fast. On the edge of voluptuous, her athletic shape grabbed both of his balls and squeezed like a nutcracker.

“Yeah, Aussie. Name’s Dugger. I’m spending time with a good mate…and huntin’ down the bad blokes.” He gave her a large toothy grin but didn’t move. “What’s your name, Sheila?”

“You’re not one them, are you?” She jerked her head toward the three corpses, then eyed him with a gaze that knew how to interrogate his soul.

“Like I said. You saved me the trouble. Yeah, put an end to five more of their miserable hides not half an hour ago.”

Dugger watched her eyes flicker. He couldn’t quite tell the color. Only that they were pale in contrast to the dark rich auburn of her hair — pulled back in a severe chignon.  

“Do they disappear here?” she asked.

Thrown off by her dispirited tone, Dugger hesitated, scrutinizing her face. “Can’t tell if the implanted microchip fries them to ash or signals one of the cloaked, black ops aircraft, and they get beamed up. Something science fiction like that anyway.”

Her shoulders drooped as if her world had ended, and she leaned against the tree trunk. Dugger noticed, though, that she held her strange rifle, ready to lift and fire at the slightest provocation.

“Symone,” she uttered moments later, not directly looking at him. “My name. Where am I?”

Dugger wasn’t fooled. He knew she carefully watched him from her peripheral vision.

“Symone, lovely name. This is Montana. We’re near a town called Talbot’s Peak. That help?”


Her voice was so fragile, Dugger leaned forward and cocked a dingo ear, but made bloody certain he kept his feet rooted. She could nail him before he took one righteous step.

“How can I help, Symone? Know my way around here a bit. My good mate, Dante, has a place you where you can put a leg up, have a proper drink and a rest.”

After a resigned sigh, she turned her gaze on him, and he witnessed her wary apprehensiveness. “Stratospheric sharpshooter. Do you have those here?”

“Stratospheric sharpshooter.” As it clicked in his brain, Dugger asked, “Is that what you are?”

She gave a slight nod, and Dugger had cause to wonder if tears filled her eyes. They appeared more shiny.

“Sharpshooter I get. The way you…what’s stratospheric mean?”

“Means I’m able to target the enemy from copters or solar platform vehicles. And make the kill shot.”

Her dull low voice came to him on the rising afternoon breezes.

“Well then, I don’t intend on ever being your enemy.” With his curiosity fierce as the outback sun in Summer, Dugger asked, “Where are you from, Symone?”

“You probably won’t believe this… I’m from another Earth. By accident,” she added, her tone so depressed Dugger’s heart reached for her.

“Another Earth?” was all he could manage to bloody well say.

“In a parallel dimension.” She moved restlessly, but didn’t leave the tree. “Ever hear of a time-sliding machine?”

Dugger knew he blinked like a bat suddenly caught in the glare of an auto’s head lamps. “Time-sliding?”

 “I’m not supposed to be here. It was a practical joke gone bad. Really bad.”

“Right then. It’s time to trust someone, isn’t it?”

Her gaze cut toward him, and Dugger felt it like a thrown blade. No woman had ever managed that one with him. Maybe they bred them different on her Earth.

“Since your enemy is my enemy,” he drawled in an easy tone, “we have that in common.” When she didn’t raise her rifle, Dugger took a few steps toward his beautiful sheila. “Come on, let’s get out of here. No use making ourselves targets.”

As if he’d finally said something she could accept, Symone eased her posture. Straightening from the tree trunk, she lowered the odd rifle to her side. “There’s a safe place?” she asked, a bit of hope in her voice. “A really safe place?”

“Yeah. Me and some friends have been picking those drongos off like ripe fruit hanging on a tree every time they enter our territory.”  Dugger kept walking toward her.

“I don’t think I have choice, do I?” She moved to meet him with slow uncertain steps. “Stranger on a strange Earth,” she wistfully added.

Gray, pale gray… the mist at dawn, that was the color of her eyes. “You can tell me all about yourself, Symone. About your Earth. And I’ll return the favor. Tell you about this Earth.”

She moved beside him, and Dugger figured it was best if he simply led the way. “We’re not far from my vehicle.”

“On my Earth the war is over with the Global League. We won in the northern hemisphere.” Her soft haunted voice penetrated Dugger in a way he hadn’t experienced before.

“Here. The shooting war has just begun. What about the southern hemisphere on your Earth?”

She didn’t answer for a long while. “They lost. We were working with the Resistance, building them up.”

Dugger didn’t like what he heard. But he decided fast as viper’s strike that forewarned was forearmed. “You’re like an angel, Symone. A gorgeous guardian angel.”

She said nothing. Dugger knew in that moment, he would prove it to her. She was his angel.

Have a Magickal Shapeshifter Month of May!


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

This blog was originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS by the author.

May 1, 2012

Last Chance For the Snow Leopardess by Savanna Kougar

ImageLast Chance For the Snow Leopardess

Kaliakani hung her head and sank to her knees. She barely noticed the silken pillow cushioning her legs, or the tug of the soft rope binding her wrists.

Once again, as it had been in her life since early childhood, no one wanted her. She’d only been tolerated by her family, by the tribe over the years, because of her healing abilities, and because the shaman had favored her, and taught her.  

Tears tried to slip down her cheeks. She felt their familiar wetness behind her closed eyelids, yet Kaliakani couldn’t weep. Her soul was too weary.

Despite the promise made by the representative of the Interspecies Pleasure Club, she had not been claimed as a mate by one of the visiting Leonydde aristocracy. She’d been a fool to believe… she’d been such a ridiculous and desperate fool.

Despair trampled Kaliakani like a herd of raging mammoths.

The giant hairy beasts still roamed her small corner of the world, where her shapeshifter kind had lived in isolation since the last ice age. She’d watched them in awe whenever she caught sight of the small herd while collecting her medicinal herbs.

In preparation to be claimed, her arms had been placed comfortably behind her back,  and the rope, attached to the ornate brass ring, allowed her to move and stretch. Now Kaliakani chafed at her symbolic capture.

She’d been wild with erotic excitement, the sensations tingling every inch of her skin. At first. As she waited. Now a dark agony engulfed her.


Zhror shoved his communication device into it’s case on his hip, then roared a complaint at the unexpected delay. Between their frontier border patrols, he and his brethren had searched the galaxy for suitable mates.

When his science officer discovered Earth, and the hidden bounty of feline shapeshifters, they’d made first contact with the one known as Blade Runner, recognizing his rabbit kind’s signature.

Still rumbling low in his throat, Zhror strode from the primitive but opulently decorated chamber of the Pleasure Club. Here, he and his chosen woman would share pleasurable intimacies for the first time. Many of them.

Zhror vibrated his throat with a steady growl as his ground-devouring strides carried him toward the viewing rooms. Most days it was good to be captain, even with the endless decisions and responsibility.

However, aware his little snow leopardess was emotionally fragile because she’d nearly been an outcast, Zhror owned not a shred of patience now. Likely she would be hurting, and believing she’d been abandoned by him.

With his own need violently scorching his loins as well, Zhror bellowed a short roar, the one that let his crew know they’d be wise to step carefully around him. After a nod from the werewolf on watch, he moved inside the viewing room.

Only knowing it served him and his mate, caused Zhror to stop and drink in her beauty for long moments. Obviously dispirited, she knelt, her incomparable face hidden from him.

Zhror ached for her, yet observing his woman would encourage his best handling of her. He well knew his male nature.

Beneath the sheer veiling, her fair skin gleamed, and her patterning of pale spots made his mate utterly exquisite to his eye. Her shape was long, elegant, and her curves ripe, a perfect fit for his hands. As before when he’d decided upon Kaliakani, his cock straightened with a ferocity that frankly surprised him.

Already Zhror imagined threading his fingers through her long curtain of hair, the color of golden starglow, and burnished with the same reddish tan of her fur. From behind the view screen, he’d watched with unprecedented awe as Kaliakani demonstrated her ability to change into an animal.

Although as he understood it, her kind rarely shifted, only relying on their beast side to survive. His humanoid feline race were not shapeshifters, but owned the appearance of what those on Earth called lions.

Zhror lived in hope that his appearance would become not merely acceptable to his mate, but beloved. That he would come to see it live in her lovely and mystical silver-golden eyes.

To gain this desire, he planned on pleasuring his woman often, and with every carnal ecstasy.

Happy Shapeshifting around the May pole,


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~


This blog was originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS by the author.

Create a free website or blog at