ShapeShifter Kisses

November 28, 2013

Long Lost Son of a Wolf-Cat by Savanna Kougar


Happy Thanksgiving kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

May your Thanksgiving be a time of joy… and wow, Christmas day is now a mere month away. This year has been a speeding bullet. So, before you know it, 2014 will be on the doorstep, demanding to be let in.

This flash scene was a brilliant flash before my mind’s eyes, as I realized Damien Hancock, the crime-boss alpha wolf who originally took over Talbot’s Peak with his pack – had a deep dark secret that was now showing up on his territorial doorstep.


Long Lost Son of a Wolf-Cat

As he surveyed one entrance of the Interspecies Pleasure Club from afar, Dajhir lowered his thickly furred hindend, sitting on the frozen blanket of snow. Ever since he’d discovered the identity of his real bio sire… or, his sire had discovered his existence, he’d been on the run.

A very fast long run as both human and while in his animal form.

Airplane hopping, especially given the TSA constraints, and hiking across long stretches of sparsely populated land on his four, now-sore paws was not his particular cup of Earl Grey tea. 

For the last seven years he’d been hiding out as a professor at a small private college in the northeast. Not only could he write his scholarly articles about the relationship of humans and animals from the dawn of history… but he’d gained access to ancient tablets the mainstream public had been denied — and would be in a state of shock if they only knew the revelations within.

On the one paw, it had been fortuitous that he’d discovered his late dam’s diary in a lockbox she’d left to him upon her passing. On the other paw, somehow his notoriously cat-hating sire had received word of his mother’s death… then the nightmare had begun.

Damien Hancock was one ruthless son of a bitch — as Dajhir learned from a shapeshifter private investigator he’d hired, once his life had been endangered several times. Only turning to his feral fangs and claws had saved his hide. That, and he’d carried a switchblade.

An expert in the use of knives for defense, his mother, a lynx shapeshifter, had taught him well. Now he could only be eternally grateful to her.

It seemed his sire also possessed endless wealth, and minions out the proverbial ass to do his sinister bidding. Having survived ten attacks on his life… well by damn, then the lucrative enticements from Damien Hancock had covertly come his way. Well timed, given his professorial career was now in the crapper litter box.

Rumors that he was a drug dealer had swept over the college campus like wildfire. Nothing could be further from the truth. Dajhir despised any addictive substance, and helped whoever he could to get off the soul-stealing chemicals.

Worn thin in body and spirit, and with no place to call home anymore, Dajhir decided to face his sire beast in his own lair. That, and while hiding out in a shapeshifter dive in New Orleans, he’d been told about Dante, his half brother in Talbot’s Peak.

At the time, it had sounded too good to be true. But here he sat blasted by an arctic wind during the wee hours of the morning… wondering if he’d be welcomed at the Pleasure Club, or thrown to the pack of wolves that had chased him to an invisible boundary. Obviously, they didn’t dare cross into the territory his half brother had carved out.

Dajhir sighed from the depths of his hungry, growling belly. His wolf-cat coat was so dense, the cold rarely penetrated. But, he was a raggedy, matted mess from his tail tip to his puffball-like furred mug. He probably smelled like a mile-high pile of elephant dung as well.

Forcing himself to move down the long snowy slope, he let a small seed of hope guide his slow tired steps. Dajhir thought Thanksgiving was close, and maybe charity would be extended to him, if what he’d heard about Dante was true… even so, he’d lost track of the days.

Shoving away thoughts of a turkey dinner with all the trimmings, Dajhir tried to hurry his pace. The smell of blood from his cracked paw pads entered his nostrils… then he saw her… what appeared to be an angel… no wings, but she was dressed all in white, a white snowsuit if his eyesight could be trusted… if he wasn’t hallucinating… if…

Was she the angel of death… and he was in fact dying? Dajhir still felt alive, if bone weary.

Deciding there was nothing left to do but meet his fate, Dajhir hobbled toward her, his limbs now refusing to fully cooperate.


Sedina tromped over the crusty snow, determined to find out if the female spirit who had interrupted her daily meditation — and refused to leave no matter how she’d spiritually commanded the presence — had been telling the truth. If so, her son was on the edge of collapse, and needed immediate help.

Fortunately, the snow covering wasn’t all that deep, and the snowsuit Sedina had recently purchased lived up to its billing. Being a jungle-bred cat shifter, she was so not a fan of cold and snow. And being a bit of a pussy-wuss, she was not all that fond of outdoor adventuring, either.

“” The words left her lips as a frosty mist.

Sedina stopped in her tracks. A monstrously huge and strange creature that appeared to be made out of snow moved painfully toward her. It struck Sedina that the obvious shapeshifter would be magnificent in appearance if it weren’t for his awful condition.

She tried jogging toward him, but her slight frame proved to be a hindrance. Sedina settled for walking fast and leaping over the small snowdrifts. All the while she summoned her healing energies.

Okay, she wasn’t all that powerful in her ability compared to some, her instructor for one example… not yet anyway, but she was damn well learning. Knowing about the gathering of good witches in the Peak, she’d made the decision to move to the Pleasure Club, and work at the Midnight Stardust Supperclub.

For as long as Sedina could remember, she’d fiercely yearned to walk a spiritual path and develop her psi abilities. Now, she began to sizzle with her healing force the closer she came to the wounded… ? Her feline nose told her the odd-looking, enormous shifter was at least part cat.

Intuitively, Sedina knew the frozen patch of blood she suddenly saw on his upper flank was from a gunshot. “I’m here to help,” she shouted, her fast breaths getting in the way of her words.

Fiery amber eyes met her gaze. Only the flames in their depths had gone dim.

Running the last few steps, Sedina sank to her knees and wrapped her arms around the cat beast’s massive neck. He collapsed to the ground, taking her with him.

“I’m here to heal you,” she soothed. “Your mother sent me.”

Tidal waves of healing surged through Sedina entering the shifter’s snow-encrusted, overly thin body. More important, she felt his spirit respond as if he wanted to stay in the land of the living.

“You’ve come home,” she whispered several times… yet didn’t know why the words poured from her. Only that they were somehow true.



Have a Magickal Season of Thanksgiving… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire

November 21, 2013

The Ghost Wolf Arrives by Savanna Kougar


Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

My schedule has changed recently, so this post is later than usual. Recently, I had the opportunity to listen to an old Art Bell radio show ~June 16, 1998~ when he talked with the Hopi elders about the coming times. Much of what these wise ones spoke about has come about. Anyway, the late Robert Ghost Wolf, a most amazing renaissance man, arranged this first-time-ever conversation on the radio.

Thus, inspiration was born for the following flash scene. Although, it does not follow the theme of that most historic radio show.


The Ghost Wolf Arrives

Dhegyr Ghost Wolf loped over the thick bed of fallen leaves in the early morning cold of late Autumn. There was barely a rustle since he’d shifted into a less dense form between mist and corporeal.

He’d been patient enough. After all, the time to claim his chosen mate was long past.

Yielding to Kai’s desire to make her own way in the human world, Dhegyr had turned his attention to ridding their realm of the shadow-evil infesting several Earth dimensions. With his formidable warrior skills, he’d led his ghost army into the far reaches of hell, destroying every enclave of the enemy surrounding his fae homeland.

Now the urge to mate sliced through his loins like a fast-swinging broadblade. Once, before he’d been able to fully morph into mist, such a blade had cut through his human flesh. Dhegyr mentally grimaced at the memory, knowing he much preferred that agony over the pain he now suffered — wanting Kai as his to hold, his to bed.

A feast of scents from the Interspecies Pleasure Club hit Dhegyr’s nose strongly even in his half-state — as he’d been told. The next instant in time slowed, and Dhegyr easily spied the lurking shadow-beast, partly concealed by a stand of bare-branched trees.

An enormous black-oil stain on the beauty of the forest, the shadow scout resembled a Bison shapeshifter trapped in mid shift. Without thought Dhegyr charged, launched himself through the air, and before the enemy could escape by whirling into tornadic smoke, he snapped his jaws on its semi-fleshy throat.

The shadow-beast grabbed his sides with giant brutish hands seeking to crush his lungs, squeeze the breath out of his lungs. Instead of morphing into mist, Dhegyr exploded into full materialized wolf.

In battle frenzy, striking with fang and claw, he ripped through strands of gooey flesh.  Destroying. And absorbing what knowledge the enemy contained.

A planned invasion of the lands surrounding Talbot’s Peak. Hordes of shadow soldiers waited just beyond a dark portal — an ancient dimensional gateway that had not been activated for ages.

Only the sound of a horse’s hooves racing in his direction stopped Dhegyr from demolishing every last shred of the shadow scout. With a vile puff of smoke, it twisted into a malformed wisp, and floated for the treetops.

A few moments slipped by before a large white stallion slid to a halt. Rearing high, the obvious shapeshifter pawed the air attempting to strike the escaping wisp. The stallion screamed with rage at his failure, the sound blast-echoing through unnatural stillness around them.

Even as the stallion lowered toward the ground, a white fire overtook his horse form.  Then, a man emerged.

Dhegyr huffed in several breaths, and matched the man from a neighboring world, shifting into human form. He hadn’t planned on being naked in the middle of a frost-bitten forest. Yet, fate had its own path.

“Drifter, that’s my handle, stranger.” The also-nude man offered a hand in the American manner.

Hesitating only an instant, Dhegyr grabbed hold, and shook. “I am Dhegyr Ghost Wolf, warrior from a mist land.”

Drifter gave a nod of understanding. Silent communication whipped between them then, and Dhegyr told the bare bones of his story. That is, once Drifter flashed who he was, and his mission on Earth — to protect and preserve the area’s portals.

“A woman, always a woman,” Drifter drawled in friendly fashion. “Chasing my own little filly. Tell you what, my hind end is feelin’ the chill.”

Their hands unclasped, and by mutual agreement, they shifted into their animal forms. As they loped side by side, Drifter mind-spoke about the Pleasure Club, and answered Dhegyr’s inquiries.

‘Do you know of a woman named Kai? I believe that is the name she chooses here.’

‘No, my friend.’ Drifter led the way as they came within sight of what appeared to be an isolated motorcycle bar. ‘There are many in the Peak I have not met. What is your future mate’s appearance?’

As if summoned by the Great Mother Herself, Kai materialized before them in all of her glory. Not her naked glory, Dhegyr noted. Likely because of Drifter’s presence.

Dhegyr jerked to a halt, leaves flying around him. Beside him, Drifter skidded a few steps before he come to a full halt.

‘I’ll just leave you two alone,’ he mind-spoke to Dhegyr. With a bow of his head to Kai, and a quick shake of his white mane, Drifter spun trotting away from them.

“You have found me,” Kai defiantly announced, her small fists planted on her round-as-summer-peaches hips — the hips he dreamed of lustily seizing during their passions.

Dhegyr seated himself on his haunches, his motion slow, deliberate. He gazed fully at her. ‘Do I morph to man here, Kai of the Summer Meadowland?’ he mind-asked. ‘Or do we speak in comfort before a roaring fire?’

“A roaring fire you want…is it?” she challenged, her chin thrust in that way that always caused his blood to rush with ferocious desire. Tendrils of her hair — the color of autumn’s red leaves — lifted from the sheer force of her being, but then drifted on the morning winds, becoming brisker by the moment.

There had never been a woman more beautiful to his eye. In the course of his life, once Kai had departed, he’d shared many a woman’s bed. Dhegyr little cared he found his woman’s beauty startling — more inspiring than ever — yes, because they had been mated by the Greater Force, that which ruled their homeland.

‘A fire it is. My corporeal form is not accustomed to the bone-eating cold of this human world.’ Dhegyr waited.

Perhaps, patience had become his ally now. For, Kai’s expression softened if only the smallest bit. “Come,” she sharply voiced.

Whirling in a grand sweep of her crimson cape, she marched toward the entrance of the motorcycle bar. Most willingly, his blood high for her, Dhegyr followed. He cared not that he appeared like her pet. For now, she could rule. He well knew how to rule in their chambers.

He smiled a very wolf smile.

Before pulling the bar’s heavy door open, Kai half-turned to him. With her gaze not fully meeting his, she softly announced, “Did you know I summoned you here?”

Dhegyr sought a moment of wisdom before telepathing the words immediately entering his head. He raised a wolf brow. ‘Did you know, love, that your communications to our realm have been blocked since your departure?’

Kai smiled that slow queenly smile of hers. “Yes, I know.” She shoved the door open.



Have a Magickal Season of Thanksgiving… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire

November 14, 2013

Flashback ~ White Fang’s Heroine by Savanna Kougar


Thursday kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

Due to circumstances, I couldn’t pen a flash scene for today. So, here’s a flashback scene in the early days of Talbot’s Peak which stars Pasha, Egyptian cat goddess. This 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, Shere Khan. 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 Shere Khan’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 Shere Khan’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.


Have a Magickal Season of Thanksgiving… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire

November 6, 2013

Autumn Wind Witch, the Summoning by Savanna Kougar

November kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

Here we are madly racing toward Thanksgiving, and my head is still spinning from Halloween. Plus, the daylight-savings-time change has done a number on me. So, I’ll have to finish this flash scene next week.

In the meantime, I hope to finish formatting RED LIONESS TAMED for re-release as an Indie novella.

Autumn Wind Witch, the Summoning

Khasatra reverently raised her hand pressing her lips to her palm. She blew a farewell kiss into the vanishing winds of her realm.

After much sacred reflection, she had chosen to leave the timeless land of the Magick Ones — from whence Merlin, and others, had emerged during the epic age of the grandest sorcery upon Earth.

Although Khasatra did not rub elbows with the notorious magician — yet as she knew it — Merlin often called Weyfaire home. Now, Weyfaire was shrouded, and a new path lay before her.

Khasatra stood within a starlit mountain clearing. Low on the mountainside, the level stretch of ground overlooked a town named Talbot’s Peak.

Aware of the ‘summoning’ by Gypsy Red Wolf, and the women in her circle, Khasatra had felt the pull of curiosity. Using her large crystal sphere to hold the images for viewing, she’d tuned into the witch’s circle.

Careful not to violate their lives or their magick, Khasatra had explored the energies of the various witches, ultimately discovering why they gathered at this crucial time. Then, upon surveying the unique shapeshifter community in this Montana land, she’d become captivated, enthralled by the cauldron of multi-species, sentient life forms.

Allowing her frequencies to come into harmonious balance, Khasatra breathed in the familiar and unfamiliar scents of this realm’s forest. An abundance of animal life surrounded her. The fragrance of the Earth was richer, more primal than Weyfaire.

She slowly curved her lips in a smile as the autumnal winds whipped around her in a dancing exploration of her power. With their whirling strength, the night winds flung strands of her pale chestnut-red hair and billowed her heavy cape, spun from wool the color of an oak tree’s trunk.

While her waist-length tresses writhed like small slender serpents, Khasatra closed her eyes and raised her arms. She embraced the wind spirit offering her gratitude for the ephemeral yet magnificently powerful being.

Even though Khasatra possessed the power to force her magickal will upon the winds, she had no need to accomplish such. She much preferred a union of their spirits, and that would be a matter of time and trust.

Her brief communion done, Khasatra lowered her arms. Now she must travel to the underground castle known as the Interspecies Pleasure Club. A bright glow of anticipation filled her at the full realization — she did truly embark upon a new adventure.

Besides, as the Goddess knew, her life in Weyfaire had come to a standstill, neither progressing nor stalling — an existence that hardly illuminated her soul, or nourished her as a woman. The regional round table had seen to that fate ever since she’d refused to marry one of the minor princes.

Her beauty had been considered lesser in comparison to others of her witch kind. Thus, she’d been paired with Gregorth, a boorish, spindly figure of a man with a highly unattractive black goatee.

Khasatra had longed to rip it off his sharp-as-a-blade chin every time he toothy grinned at her. As well, every time he lustfully gazed at her with the black pools that were supposed to be his eyes, she’d come to fiercely desire witnessing her dagger plunged deep into his heart.

While Gregorth’s accomplishment as an alchemist drew the respect of the realm, his manner with women was simply abysmal. Truly, he’d merely wanted her as a vessel for his rutting needs, and to birth an image of himself.

Dismissing her distasteful remembrance of the intolerable princeling, Khasatra gathered her cape close about her. For now, the night’s frosty cold seeped inside her bones.

With a directed thought, Khasatra created a faintly sparkling trail. Keeping her tread careful over the uneven ground, she followed the starry stream which disappeared behind her.

She held no fear of meeting with the witch circle or with Dante, the werewolf leader. However, the other werewolves lurking about caused Khasatra moments of dread, since she had not ever dealt with their kind. Not having her complete arsenal of powers yet in this denser world, she remained more vulnerable than she cared to contemplate.

As Khasatra traveled ever downward, she listened for the slightest sound indicating trouble. Her fingertips sizzled with enough force to blow away an attacker, as if struck by a tornadic blast of wind.


“Find her.” Gypsy Red Wolf had paused before adding, “You are the All Things Unseen Tracker.”

Hell and howls to the bare sliver of a moon above… he could track a shadow entity on the blackest night of the year. True.

Having just arrived at the Pleasure Club from the Big Bend area of Texas, though, he owned no familiarity with the lay of the forested land. “Cold as a witch’s ass,” Zvoraq muttered, trotting in the direction Gypsy had indicated.

His cousin’s words resounded inside his head as he picked up his pace. Gypsy’s pointed ‘don’t mess with a bitch wolf’ gaze would forever brand the human side of his brain. Of that, Zvoraq owned not a damn shred of doubt.

He’d never known Gypsy to be quite this determined and forceful. Although, he’d been present, and seen how totally immersed she’d been in her sixth-sense ‘knowing’ that another witch arrived in Talbot’s Peak.

Sensing the woman, Zvoraq moved onto the mountain trail. Seconds later, danger entered his nostrils. An internal siren wailed a warning. Tigers, the shapeshifting Yakuza kind stalked her.



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

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