ShapeShifter Kisses

November 28, 2012

The Black Stallion Versus the Yakuza Tiger by Savanna Kougar

Filed under: Uncategorized — Savanna Kougar @ 5:26 am

Tuesday, Almost Full Moon, kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

Some good news on the author front. I’m about to *finally* finish my WIP ~ Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys ~ Hopefully that will happen in the next couple of days. Then, it will be all about editing and revision. That could take some time since my word count is around 90,000.

So, today’s flash scene follows Pat’s scene from yesterday. I, and my muse, couldn’t pass up the challenge of giving Ravi some very well deserved punishment.

Further note: The hero, Zoronado, and his heroine, Sharla, star in these two previous flash scenes.
Zoronado, Black Stallion Shapeshifter & Plastic rapier in hand, she approached the door.

The Black Stallion Versus the Yakuza Tiger

Sharla gripped the black stallion with her thighs as he leaped into a gallop, a rocking stride that felt all too delicious. While she appreciated his gentle manner, especially since she rode bareback, Sharla craved Zoronado’s racing speed beneath her.

So far, on their few outings, the stallion shapeshifter had merely tested her ability as a rider, and schooled her on how to handle him. Sharla wanted more. Wildly, fiercely desired so much more.

Leaning forward, she shouted against the wind, “You can do better than this.”

Zoronado’s ear flicked back, and he gathered himself, increasing the length and swiftness of his stride. The scenic forest trail they enjoyed was so well traveled, it had been cleared of snow.

‘Your chiding tone, my beloved, is heard.’

Sharla laughed happily at Zoronado’s oh-so gallant manner with her. It had taken time to understand this was his natural way of being. That his seductive role as her Zorro lover at the Pleasure Club — while a role — had not been out of character for him.

With the icy wind stinging her cheeks, Sharla leaned over his neck so her face was shielded. Zoronado’s silky thick mane slapped her face instead, and Sharla soared with the sensation of being astride him.

The furious scream of a horse in pain caused Sharla to pull back on the reins before she thought. Zoronado had already abruptly slowed, and now halted in his tracks.

Sharla stared in disbelief at the sight before her. In the distance, a crazed horse and rider barreled toward them. Zoronado danced to the side of the trail in an obvious move to protect her.

As they pounded closer, Sharla could see the lathered horse also foamed at the mouth. She had no trouble seeing his eyes, enormous with fright and rage.

“Omygawd.” Everything inside her wanted to help, wanted to stop the cruelty she witnessed. But how?

‘Dismount, my Sharla. I will attend to this barbarian.’

Before Zoronado finished speaking, Sharla launched off his back. Automatically, she moved backward, and pressed against the tall pine tree closest to her.

After shaking his bridle off, Zoronado charged forward with amazing power, his hindquarters driving him. With her breath lodged in her throat, Sharla watched the scene unfold, and reflexively gripped the hilt of his sword.

Caught between worrying and silently cheering Zoronado on, she waded through the snow, following after him. Gaining the trail, Sharla grabbed breaths, and watched her magnificent black stallion gallop straight toward the horse and rider as if they played a game of ‘chicken’.

About to scream, Sharla slammed her mouth shut. The freaked-out horse jumped to the side, and in the same instant, Zoronado snaked his neck. Whoever the rider was, his whip viciously lashed out at her black stallion’s head.

“No!” Sharla shouted furiously, as she ran.

But she could have saved her breath. Zoronado clamped down on the man’s upper arm, and lifted him straight up before flinging him off his horse, and into a deep bank of snow.

Wheeling around, her black stallion lowered his head. With his ears flattened and his teeth bared, he moved to attack.

Seeing the man suddenly morph into a deadly tiger, Sharla halted. In shock, she let the scream surging up her throat have its way. The shrillness echoed through the wintry air.

With split-second speed, wicked claws sliced at Zoronado, missing his jugular vein by mere inches. He whirled, his back hooves flying. Thud…thud…thud! Against the tiger’s jaw. Against the beast’s shoulder blade. Then a direct hit on his ribcage.

Rolling, the tiger leaped to his feet, pure snarling fury. The striped beast charged, all rippling muscle and terrible power. On instinct, Sharla drew the blade out of its scabbard, even as she watched the tiger launch for Zoronado’s back, its jaws open, ready to snap shut.

Before her mind’s eyes, Sharla saw the killing grip of his fangs. “No,” burst out of her, and became mist.

Twisting and bucking, Zoronado positioned himself so the enormous beast landed harmlessly against his side. The impact threw the tiger a few feet away.

In the following minutes of horror, Sharla stood helplessly, watching the savage fight take place. With the whirling snow spray, and the incredible speed of the battle, she couldn’t tell who was winning.

Her heart dropped to her stomach, and she leaned on the sword as if it was a crutch. Another moment later, everything stopped. The striped beast lay on the trail, dead to the world, but not dead — his breath steamed from his nostrils.

With his sides heaving, Zoronado walked toward her. The horse, a gray — now that she could see his color instead of lather — followed behind him.

The sight of blood streaking his coat had Sharla running to meet her brave and daring black stallion. “Oh gawd, you’re not hurt seriously, are you? Please…please, tell me you’re not. That you’re okay.”

‘Mere flesh wounds.’

Despite the jaunty tone of his mind-speak, Sharla heard Zoronado’s exhaustion. She circled him, inspecting his hide closely.

“Flesh wounds?” she demanded, then gently smoothed her hands over a long jagged tear. Her unreliable healing ability kicked in, and his hide seamed together.

“Come on.” Sharla took hold of his mane. “Let’s get both of you home and taken care of.”

‘I must insist that you mount me, most beloved. It is too far for you to walk.’

“Insist all you want, I’m walking.” Sharla glanced over her shoulder to make certain the gray still followed them. Looking haggard, but determined the horse kept pace with them.

Recalling Zoronado’s words, she bent toward his ear, whispering, “If you insist, I will mount you…later.”

Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side…


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire

November 21, 2012

“Consider your dance card filled, Miss Katz.” by Savanna Kougar

Tuesday gratitude kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

No, this is not a Thanksgiving themed flash scene. No wild turkey shapeshifters outwitting the hunters stalking them. Although, that would have been fun to write.

My Muse was particularly contrary all day, so I ended up continuing the flash scene from last week titled, Songstress at the Midnight Stardust Supperclub.

However, today’s flash scene is from the hero’s point of view.

“Consider your dance card filled, Miss Katz.”

Barely aware of the grandeur surrounding him, Zayne stood on the fringes of the dance floor. He focused on Selene as if he pointed the flaming lightsword of his kind.

Zayne took a swallow of the old-fashioned punch, then cradled the crystal glassware in both hands, listening to her warble a song from that time. The lilac gown gracing her beauty, wasn’t true to the period, but close enough.

Not that Zayne gave a real damn. Not at all. However, his expertise was not to be thwarted.

Thirstily, he drank in her intriguing features, an exotic combination of feline angles and angelic symmetry. Her svelte loveliness as she moved while singing, kept him hot and bothered — and remembering how they’d both endured him taking her measurements so he could outfit her properly.

To avoid torment, Zayne didn’t let his gaze linger on the moon-round swells of her breasts above the tight bodice. Or on her hair. The golden tawny color held glints of flame, and he ached to thrust his fingers through the piled wealth of ringlets

In the spirit of the Cavalry Military Ball, Zayne had regaled himself in a replica of an officer’s uniform, worn during the 1870s.  With great care, he’d crafted the boots, and the other leather accoutrements, including the scabbard for his mock blade.

Impatiently, he waited for the right moment to pounce on the woman who filled his nights with unsatisfied lust. His kind required little sleep. Yet, when the arms of Morpheus finally did capture him, the feisty singer who was also a mountain woman, haunted his dreams. Relentlessly.

As a visionary dreamer, Zayne had observed Selene in every expression of herself as a woman, and as a feline shapeshifter. He’d known before arriving at the Midnight Stardust Supperclub for this special-theme night, that she would glisten as a performer, and own a type of charisma that invited the undivided attention of the crowd.

That was his primary gift as a descendant of the god-priests — seeing the multi-facets of sentient beings, and assisting them to understand their full potential — as the new-agers labeled it.

His ability to craft with leather, and all manner of hides and furs, came from his ancient heritage as well. The passion lived in his blood, and brought him great enjoyment.

Hearing Selene announce that the musicians would continue playing without her, and perform music for the dance styles of the time, Zayne quickly strode toward the refreshment table, depositing his punch glass.

Without pause, he speared himself toward her, using his energy to move those before him gently aside. Even knowing all the facets of her being, Zayne possessed no idea how Selene would react, once she learned his true nature.

That hardly slowed his stride. Nor did it matter to him. Few women, of any race or kind, had so fiercely aroused his desire.

Closing in on her, Zayne watched Selene instinctively still and clutch the satin skirts of her gown. Before she could gather her wits, and escape his wooing attack, he blocked her path.

“Consider your dance card filled, Miss Katz.” Zayne smoothed his hand over her arm, and took command of her.

“Your manner is far too bold, sir,” she haughtily asserted, once she regained her speech.

“Yes, Miss Katz,” Zayne drawled in a gentleman’s tone, as he brought her to his side. “And I plan to be even bolder with you.”

She huffed a mew of protest, yet offered no resistance as he escorted her onto the dance floor. Amused, Zayne smiled to himself as he correctly positioned her for their dance.

Their hands joined, and he claimed her waist. “Shall we dance, Miss Katz?” he formally intoned, then raised his brow in a cavalier manner.

“Your incorrigible manner has not gone unnoticed, sir.” The bite of her tone raced his blood, hot as midday sun in the southwestern desert, the original home of his ancestors.

Certainly, he would be celebrating the rustic holiday known as Thanksgiving with a higher level of gratitude this year.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire

November 20, 2012

Mayor Gil, Were-Squirrel ~ Day One by Pat Cunningham

Day One by Pat Cunningham

Paul unlocked the door to Gil’s mayoral office and flung it wide with a flourish. Gil hesitated in the hall. He’d known the location of City Hall in a theoretical sort of way but couldn’t even find it on a street map. Now he was running the place. How effed up was that?

And what the eff was all that scat in his office?

“Ignore the papers,” Paul said in response to the sight of the roomy room’s tornadoesque appearance. “Ex-Mayor Link blew through here pretty extensively before we were able to stop him. We confiscated most of it back. Plus I’m the one who backed up all the computer files. I think you’ll find everything in order.”

Gil looked around. “What’s with all the baskets?”

Paul shrugged. “Outpourings of good will from an adoring public?”

“My ass,” Gil growled. Along with scattered papers and open file drawers, the room was packed with wicker baskets, bowls and boxes, all overflowing with nuts. Salted, unsalted, dry roasted, honey roasted, in the shell, out of the shell, double-dipped in chocolate. Walnuts dominated, followed by peanuts and almonds and cashews and moving down from there to the more exotic varieties.

Gil sidled into the room. “Doesn’t this count as bribery?” he said. “Undue influence or something?”

“It would if any of the doners had identified themselves. Pretty much all the baskets came without cards. The people just like you. Accept it, Mr. Mayor.”

“It smells like bananas in here.”

“Your predecessor had different tastes. We’ll have a cleaning crew go over the place.” In the meantime, Paul threw open a window to admit a crisp November breeze.

Gil shivered, not from the cold. This was all happening too fast.

He sat behind the huge mahogany desk. It was bigger than his kitchen table. The matching chair swallowed him up. It would have fit Louie so much better. He’d had the sense to keep his name off that stupid poll at Rattigan’s. Briefly, Gil wondered what would have happened if the town really had elected Justin Bieber.

“What am I supposed to do?” he said to the desk.

“Run Talbot’s Peak,” Paul answered. “It’s an easy job. Leave people alone and don’t raise taxes. Wave at parades. Oh, and you’re now in charge of the police department. You can outlaw squirrel-chasing by the local canines. Hey, does you being mayor mean they can finally stop showing Planet of the Apes over at the Astoria?”

Gil opened a desk drawer and pulled out a shriveled, spotted banana peel. He dumped it into the waste basket beside the desk and wiped his fingertips on his pants.

“What do you do around here?” he asked Paul suddenly. Suspiciously.

“I keep the wheels greased for you so everything runs smoothly.”

“I’ll just bet. You’re a rat shifter, aren’t you?”

Paul looked cagey. “I prefer to keep those matters private.”

“I’ll bet you keep a lot of stuff private. I know you hang around with that Lamar. So you’re good at keeping secrets. Like everybody doesn’t know already.”

“The perils of living in a community where half the population are hunters and the other half likes to root around.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I like to climb trees, and you can see quite a bit from up there. Okay. First order of business, pack up all these nuts.”

“And do what with them?”

“Donate ’em. Elly’s diner, the bakery, the candy shop. Rattigan’s gets first choice. All peanuts go to the bars. Anything left over—do we have a food bank?”

“The church handles that. Pastor Tim’s in charge. We provided a ton of banana bread under Mr. Link.”

“He’s Jim Gordon’s brother, isn’t he? Yeah, they’re twins. I’ll have to have a chat with Officer Gordon. I hear he’s got connections. Wayne connections.” Paul didn’t say anything. “That reminds me. It probably wouldn’t hurt to set up a meet with Dante Hancock.”

“I see Mr. Mayor is well-versed on current events.”

“Hey, I hang out with a rat. You pick up on stuff. That reminds me.” Gil leaned across the desk and pointed a stiff finger at Paul. “Don’t ever schedule a meeting or appearance for me during a full moon. This town’s chock full of predators. I don’t need to be perched on a podium with a gavel bigger than I am and a whole damn wolf pack licking their chops at me.”

“Consider those three days off your calendar, sir.”

“Okay.” Gil leaned back. The chair felt more comfortable the longer he sat in it. A guy could get used to this. Maybe even do some good.

“One other thing,” he said. “I need air freshener in here. Pine-scented.”

“Right away, Mr. Mayor.”


Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire


November 14, 2012

Songstress at the Midnight Stardust Supperclub by Savanna Kougar

Artist pic ~ Born to Ride by Ray McCarty 
Tuesday kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

Sheesh, can you believe it? Thanksgiving is a little over a week away. Whatever time warp I’m living in, it’s going way too fast.

The flash scene for today is based on this snippet from my about to be finished WIP ~ Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys ~

Aware Dante continued his announcement, Sherilyn heard, “The Midnight Stardust is proud to present King Wolfman and his Romantic Swing Band, featuring the songstress, Selene Katz.”

As part of the New Year’s Eve supperclub scene I found myself creating these characters. Today I heard my songstress speaking about this ‘other side’ of herself. Okay, it intrigued me, and I hope it will be enjoyable to you… as far as I’ve gotten, anyway.

Songstress at the Midnight Stardust Supperclub

Selene Katz suppressed a yawn, and shook back her long braid. One cup of coffee at Java Joe’s hadn’t woken her up entirely — the price she more than happily paid for being a songstress with King Wolfman’s Romantic Swing Band at the Midnight Stardust Supperclub.

Given it was closing in on noon, the sun glared down at her as she strode toward her favorite store, Mountain Outfitters. The large rustic building sat between Talbot’s Peak and Duff’s tavern, on the edge of a high plains ranch.

The ranching family, because of their own needs, had brought together several crafts people specializing in old west replica garments and gear. With the growth of The Peak, their business had taken off.

A sharp cold wind struck Selene’s face, but couldn’t penetrate her sheepskin jacket or her buckskin leggings, crafted for her by Mr. Mountain Man himself, Jedidiah.

Jed for short when he got to know you — he was a huggable bear shifter of a man, and Selene had come to adore him.

“Winter’s on the way,” she greeted Misty, who sat at the counter working on her latest Indian bead design.

Selene rarely left without one of her pieces, they were so exquisite. And, even though, she couldn’t wear them with her supperclub gowns, she always wore the necklaces and earrings for other social outings.

“Sure is on the way.” Misty welcomed her with an easy smile. “The men have been stocking up on wood for the stove. Hey, girl, what do you think of the new mayor?”

Selene chuckled, tickled at the thought of the were-squirrel assuming mayoral duties. “Gil is going to be a big change. I hear he’s already receiving baskets of nuts. Someone said at the coffee shop his office was so full, deliveries were now lining the hall.”

Misty laughed, tossing her sleek brown hair. “I have to admit we sent Gil a congratulatory basket of black walnuts and pine nuts…just for grins.”

“Well, if Mr. Mayor ever graces the supperclub, I’ll croon a ‘nut’ song just for him…if I can find one.”  Selene let her gaze wander as she always did, the displays of clothing, boots, blankets, saddlery, and survival gear totally irresistible to her.

She inhaled, smelling the leather crafts, thick wool blankets, the freshly made pemmican, and pinon smoke from the wood stove. Plus several domestic cats, who were pets, and kept the store free of mice.

“One of these days we’ll make it to the supperclub. The hubbie keeps promising me.”  Misty placed her partly finished necklace on the counter.

“There’s going to be a before-Thanksgiving evening based on an old-fashioned ball. Like at a frontier cavalry fort. Fans, dance cards, and all.”

At Misty’s dreamy expression, Selene continued, “I’ll get you tickets, if you like.”

“Oh, would you? I have the perfect gown.” Misty paused, pure excitement oozing from her. “I’ll convince –”

“Convince who?” her husband, Bryce, asked, indulgence in his tone.

After Misty quickly explained, Bryce wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her close. “It’s past time for an evening out. So, yes, especially since I’ll be able to don my cavalry dress uniform.”

Selene smiled to herself. “Then, I’ll bring tickets, or send them. Is Jed here? Coming soon? I’m not scenting him.”

“You’re going to be disappointed,” Misty began. “Jed had to tend to a family matter…last minute.”

“He’s okay, right?” Concern swamped Selene.

“Right as rain,” Bryce assured.

“Dagnabbit,” Selene affected simply because she liked it, “My Annie Oakley side was craving fur-lined winter boots, and a shoulder holster.”

“Jed does have a new apprentice. And,” Bryce stretched the word, then craned his neck looking toward Jed’s workroom. “I hear him now. Coming back from lunch.”

“Jed swears by him,” Misty offered. “Zayne could take your measurements, at least. Find out the designs you want. Make certain we have the materials on hand.”

“Is he kin?” Selene asked, not smelling a bear shifter.

What she did scent confused her. Since she was a half-breed shapeshifter some her animal senses weren’t that strong. But, whoever, whatever Zayne was, Selene couldn’t mistake his potent *I’m a man* hormones.

“No. Zed didn’t speak of him as kin. And he’s not otter like we are.” Bryce gave Misty an affectionate squeeze.

“Not any cat breed I’ve ever come across, either.” With her inner Annie Oakley driving her steps, Selene moved toward the workroom. That, and curiosity compelled her. Zed never spoke well of another unless he knew it to be true.

Selene rapped on the door frame, wanting to announce her presence.

“Come in.” The virile baritone voice granted her entry, and Selene pushed the door wider.

An eyeful of his backside prominently revealed by the tight-fitting, supple suede pants he wore, had Selene staring in surprise. She found herself flat against the door, her gaze glued on his fine, fine ass.

Breathless, she slid her gaze over his sculpted thighs, and calves. He reminded her of a hardworking blacksmith more than a mountain man.

Although, obviously, he leaned over a large tanned hide, studying it. When he turned to face her, all latent power and with the grace of an athlete, Selene lost herself in the depths of his dark amber eyes. They blazed, alive in a way she’d never seen. As if eternal fires from a previous age lived within him.

Ignoring how attractive she found his dark burnished hair, how it framed his features, setting them off…Selene straightened. “Zayne, right?”

“Yes. How can I help you, Miss –?”

A dozen answers sprang to mind, none of them about new boots. Still, Selene recovered her composure fast, speaking her name. “Are you as good as Jed?”

His slow arrogant smile irritated her to no end, as did the over-confidence now glittering in his eyes.

“I assure you, Selene, I can craft whatever you’re looking for,” he paused just slightly, “to your satisfaction.”

“Well, then,” she lifted her chin defiantly, “let’s find out how true that is.”


Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side…


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

This blog was originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS.

November 7, 2012

When a Plan Comes Together ~ Intro of the Talby by Savanna Kougar

Filed under: Uncategorized — Savanna Kougar @ 4:07 am

Happy November kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

This flash scene has no romance and no sexy bits. Sorry to disappoint. Instead, this scene is about the practical side of living in The Peak, and making life better for ALL.

Given the horrific circumstances that are happening for some in NYC, how to care for one and all in Talbot’s Peak has been on my mind, and on the mind of my ‘do I dare?’ call them just characters.

Please know, my prayers and positive thoughts are with all those who need help, and are still suffering.

When a Plan Comes Together ~ Intro of the Talby

“You certain about this, Dante?”

Brandon Wayne leaned forward, his gaze piercing, as if he confronted one of the many business insiders he knew. Dante took it as a compliment.

“I’m not certain.” Dante eased back in his office chair, then stretched, and kept his hands over his head. Though, not once did he take his gaze off the powerful corporate rancher. “But I’m game to give it a try, and so are several others.”

“We got the resources to back it up. No question about that.” Brandon rose, and slapped his high-priced Stetson on his thigh. “If this plan of yours takes off, son, it’s gonna be a mighty big undertaking to manage.”

“I’ve put together a beginning team. You’ve met them, approved them.”

Dante watched the bat shifter stride like John Wayne, and look out a window that wasn’t there. They were underground, and the life-size photo only made it appear as though the forest was right outside. Dante had placed it there for his Kitty, since she was somewhat squeamish about feeling trapped.

“No problem with the team. I got more printing presses setup, and hidden. Hell, even Shere Khan and his ilk won’t find the location. If this project is a definite go, I’ll have another batch delivered.”

“Yeah, got the storage room airtight and ready. If nothing else, we can use ’em to light a bonfire, then roast marshmallows.” Dante settled his legs on top of his desk, and grinned at the thought of tossing packs of the script they’d designed onto it’s own funeral pyre.

Brandon rumbled a manly chuckle. “Like you say, we can fuel a right cozy bonfire, and do some cuddling with our gals. Charity won’t go amiss, either. Plenty of folks with wood stoves in this neck of the woods, and the winters are long and damn cold.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m itching to get this started. Help everyone before winter snows us all in. So far, even with some out of work, Talbot’s Peak hasn’t been hit too hard by the Depression.”

“I’d like to keep it that way. Your plan has merit, son, or I wouldn’t have already thrown my chips in. And with White Fang, Nick, Dugger, Sergei, Blade Runner, and their beast pals onboard, all of ’em pantin’ eager to keep the fed-reserve varmints from sneakin’ up on us, well, we got a real shot at makin’ and keepin’ the Peak prosperous.”

“That’s the idea, batman.” Dante lazily crossed his ankles. “I figure with the Mayor and Vernon snapping jaws at each other, and putting on a big political circus, it’s likely to be  crowded at the polls. Perfect time to pass out the first Talbies — The Peak’s own currency — good for drinks and dinner afterward.”

“I got most of the bars and eatin’ places workin’ with us. Plus, Marissa at Java Joe’s is joinin’ in.” Brandon fingered the brim of his Stetson, and Dante could see the wheels spinning as the rancher did some more speculating. “Especially with what we’ve promised to deliver in goods. We know Louie can’t pass up a deal.”

Dante growled a laugh. “Nope. I swear I could hear him sniffin’ at the cheese bait, when I talked to him on the phone. He was already putting his order in.”

“We both have overstocked lockers of meat from the drought cattle and other livestock we bought up. Might as well go with this plan.” Brandon crossed the room, his gaze unwavering.

“This works as a way to distribute to those who need it, and get our own local economy going.” Dante straightened, and swung his feet to the floor. Reaching for the bottle of prime whiskey he kept on the desk, he poured out shots for them both, handing one glass to Brandon.

“To our success.” Brandon touched his glass to Dante’s, and they both tossed down the potent fiery liquid.

Dante savored for moments, then continued, “Kitty, Ziva, Tammie, and Gypsy have teams ready to pass out the Talby at the polling places. It gave them an excuse to hire some who needed the work, and give them extra Talbies for spending at restaurants.”

“Hell, son.” Brandon quirked a brow, his gaze amused. “How well does hemp paper burn? If we have to fuel those bonfires.”

“Might be smarter to recycle all that script, and make insulation — on second thought.” Dante curved his lips, feeling his fangs and his own wolfish grin.

“What’s the latest on Lamar, and that charity male strip show he’s wantin’ to put on? Is that flamboyant snake still plannin’ on handin’ out those special red Talbies as tickets?”

“Lamar is in a flurry of activity in his own inimitable flashy way.” Dante sat back comfortably and steepled his fingers. “I don’t think he’s settled on an exact date yet. Last I knew he was arm-twisting Jory into being the emcee. Lamar liked his style under pressure. Remember when the spotlight hit Jory for the National Shifting Day celebration?”

Brandon gave a minimal nod. “Think I’ll mosey into town tomorrow with my Leona. Let her keep a reporter’s eye on the votin’, while I have a look see at how the Talby is being taken to.”

“Got my paws full with the Pleasure Club. Otherwise I’d hop on the Harley and have a look. Kitty will be doing a vid, so it’s all good.”

Brandon poured himself another drink while keeping one eye trained on Dante. “You’re not voting, son?”

“Don’t live in town.” Dante let a slow smile spread across his face. “I don’t have a dog in that hunt. Or, let’s say I don’t have a chimp or a wolf in that fight.”

Brandon briefly roared with laughter, then tossed back his whiskey. “Politics ain’t my bag, either. As they used to say in Haight-Ashbury.”

Dante raised his brows. His inner hackles stood on end, pricking him. “Interesting time and place for a bat to hang out.”

“You wouldn’t believe the half of it, son. Had the most fun screwin’ with the spooks — J. Edgar’s boys — and others, who were screwin’ with innocents, doin’ LSD experiments on ’em.”

Dante regarded Brandon for a long moment before quietly offering, “The underbelly of society meets the transformation into the Aquarian Age.”

Brandon clanked the shot glass down on the desk. “Yep. Right on. That’s when I decided shifters and people were far more important than politics and profit. And I certainly have takin’ a liking to profit.”

The batman rancher flashed a huge grin, then strode toward the doorway. “Let’s make the Talby work,” he boomed over his shoulder, after perfectly placing his Stetson on his head.


Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side…


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

This blog was originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS.

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