ShapeShifter Kisses

February 28, 2014

The Mutant-landia of Damien Hancock by Savanna Kougar


Pic from:

Thursday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Now that Damien Hancock’s secret ‘doctor’ is out of the closet but not out of his monster-cloning lab… well… read on.


The Mutant-landia of Damien Hancock

Damien Hancock, the werewolf pack leader who had first seized Talbot’s Peak, growled orders to the four betas following in his wake. “Useless curs,” he muttered, as they entered his hidden underground lab located near Pike’s Peak.

An unnatural silence enveloped him once the ten-foot thick steel door closed, sealing them inside. His terror campaign to rid Talbot’s Peak of humans and cat shapeshifters was yet to be fulfilled, to his everlasting rage.

But Damien was a werewolf man with a devious plan. Several diabolical plans to be scat exact. 

He’d be damned before showing his throat, or bowing to the genius maneuvering of his second son, Dante.  A reluctant respect gripped his innards, and Damien barked a harsh growl at himself.

The cat-licking, human-loving renegade cub — who favored his dam and had been corrupted by her soft paw — countered his every move like a master chessboard player but with deadly-attack strategies when required. Dante could fang-rip out the jugular with the best of them.

He’d learned that much from his sire.

Damien smirked, then reminded himself he owned the last fang-ruthless move. Toothy grinning, he sauntered slowly, studying Morloxian’s latest army of demon-eyed killer beasts.

Behind a specialized, black-ops grade of plexiglass, on both sides of the ten foot corridor, mutant werewolves occupied huge cubicles. Frozen in a state of stasis, the  hideously formed beasts could be activated, loosed on an unsuspecting enemy — or any population — at a moment’s notice.

In anticipation, Damien grinned, his lips thinning over his protuding fangs. As he understood the mad scientist’s explanation, originally Dire wolf variants had been infected with a dinosaur-ravaging virus discovered in the depths of the Amazon jungle. Of course, Morloxian constantly added his own evil-genius refinements to the gene-bubbling brew.

Recently he’d included the murderous instincts and superior agility of Jackals and Hyenas. Morloxian’s gleeful recitation of the process still echoed inside Damien’s head, the memory like a B horror movie but without the humorous silliness he enjoyed on occasion. 

As he watched the steel door slide open, Damien girded his loins, preparing himself for the offal stench of the mad-dog scientist. Morloxian remained in a perpetual state of half shift, and no matter his attempt to cleanse himself, the odor stuck to him like fresh tomcat scat.

“Sir.” Morloxian glided forward in his strange gait, offering his deformed paw-hand, the one with the unusually long and dextrous fingers.

Random patches and tufts of werewolf fur covered his ‘bright as a billiard ball’ bald head — and his body as Damien had been a witness to once. Pained howls to hell, once was enough, as the inane saying went.

To his credit, Morloxian always wore an immaculately clean white lab coat. Damien resisted the urge to howl a laugh as he briefly embraced the lumpy monstrosity within his semi-morphed hand. Whiskers sprouted haphazardly on the scientist’s Boris Karloff like features, giving him a cartoon-comical appearance.

“Impressive,” Damien growled, referring to the stasis army of mutant werewolves he’d just viewed.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Morloxian joked in his cracking-odd voice. He waggled his mismatched brows, bushy brows that should only have belonged on a grizzled old mountain man.

“Show me. Are the funds in order?” Damien thought to ask. A happy mad scientist was exceptionally, insanely creative, as he’d learned. 

“More than sufficient, sir. My team has made good progress on those samples you sent of the horse-altered mutants. Although, magick is always a tricky beast to define, and incorporate into the genetic matrix. However,” Morloxian stretched his thick, semi-twisted mouth into a smile. “I assure you it can be accomplished.”

“I have every faith in your ability. That brings me to one reason for this meeting. I have word from a trusted source… one of your team is an infiltrator.” Damien let the rest of his thought hang and blow in the mighty wind of his alpha power, while keenly observing Morloxian’s reaction.

“Could you be more specific, sir?” Nothing but respect shone in Morloxian’s very human eyes. “You vetted, and have the dossiers on every one of my assistants.”

“Yes. So, I do,” Damien widened his lips into a smile of acceptance, given the emotional fragility of the werewolf-bitten human. “Why don’t you take me on the grand tour? The nose knows. Sniffing out the scat vermin could be quite entertaining for all of us. And,” Damien enticed, “give you more useful genetics to play with… perhaps, even a cure.”

Morloxian frowned, only enough to demonstrate his point, not as a challenge. “I no longer care about a cure for my… ah… condition, sir. I’ve come to enjoy my franken-wolf state.” He smiled like a jester fool atop a king’s hill. “Some females seem to enjoy my ‘extra’ prowess.”

“Yes, I can imagine.” Damien clapped his ‘ace’ against Dante on the shoulder in an intentional human gesture of affection. Such bonding created loyalty, as he’d learned over his lengthy life. “How is your harem?”

A red stain spread over Morloxian’s face, then the bald areas of his head.

“No need for words,” Damien growled in a friendly manner. “Show me your latest project. Then, we’ll sniff out the infiltrator, and have our fun.”

“Mammoth genes,” Morloxian burst out. “They’re all over the black market now. I was able to secure a viable set. You should see the prototype I’ve created.”

Damien wickedly glittered inside with the possibilities of such a formidable creature. “A mammoth mutant werewolf?”

“With tusks that can take out any military tank,” Morloxian enthused.

“That does take priority…” Damien envisioned the ‘out of the bowels of hell’ damage he could wreak on Talbot’s Peak proper… on Dante’s fortress, the Pleasure Club.


 Wishing you romance on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Originally published at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS.



 Wishing you romance on the wild side…


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~




Originally published at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS.

February 20, 2014

Blade Runner ~ Rabbit to the Rescue by Savanna Kougar

Howls, yowls, and hops, Shapeshifter lovers.

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

Blade Runner ~ Rabbit to the Rescue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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






Wishing you romance on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Originally published at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS.

February 14, 2014

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could a heart-lonely filly resist?


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you?” she murmured a moment later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zhor’s inner stallion kicked up his heels.


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


Wishing you romance on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Originally published at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS.

February 6, 2014

Flash and Kiss of the White Stallion by Savanna Kougar


Note: I think Rebecca first posted this pic. But it’s just too good. 

Happy Year of the Horse, shapeshifter lovers.

Time to gallop fast toward your goals while watching out for the predator types. As anyone who reads my flash scenes regularly, or my erotic romances, you will know I adore horses.

I’ve been so busy dealing with weather and other life stuff today that I haven’t had time to write a new scene, so you’re getting a 700 word flash I wrote several years ago in 100 word sections. However, I recently added three more sections for the month-long FIRST KISS event being held at Karen Nutt’s blog

Yep, two of my absolute favorites: horses and kissing. Since the entire flash wasn’t presented at the event, here it is just for you. Hope you enjoy.

Flash of the White Stallion


The magnificent white stallion stood atop a rugged high rise of ground, appearing to mock my efforts to gaze upon him more closely. I didn’t mind. His beauty transfixed me, especially the way his coat, and long waving tail, gleamed beneath the early afternoon sun. He seemed almost magical, as if he’d escaped from a fairytale. I soared inside, all sensation of my body’s weight lost. And I became wonderfully torn between the desire to observe his freedom, and the restless urge to ride him. What would he feel like beneath me? As he ran like the wind.
“Hiyo, Silver.”


I spun toward the man’s booming shout. Silver? Like the Lone Ranger’s horse? From the corner of my eye, I watch the white stallion move down the long-sloping rise with deliberate care. One false move, and he would slide dangerously. The small rocks covering the arid ground acted like a bed of gravel. In vain, my gaze searches for the voice’s owner, the deep commanding sound tingling my insides nearly as much as his stallion. I know everyone who lives in this grand isolated area. So, I thought.
“Looking for me, ma’am?” I whirl around, almost tripping over my feet.


“Yes,” I mumble, and try to keep my balance. Quick as a striking rattler he’s beside me, his grip on my elbow a steadying force, the likes of which I’d never felt before. Not from any man. But was he a man? Or had he leapt from the fictional pages of a TV script? Not that he actually resembled the Lone Ranger of yesteryear. From what I could see, peering from beneath my lashes, while my cheeks flame like they’ve been severely sunburned.
“You okay, ma’am?”
“I…I don’t think so.” My belly lurches with uncertainty, and something else I’ll label ‘attraction’.


“How can I help, ma’am?”
What was with this ‘ma’am’ thing? Once was definitely enough. Good Lord, he smelled deliciously primal, and like pine needles.
“Who are you? There aren’t that many of us small ranchers, living around here.” I stop. I’m about to nervously babble.
“Just passin’ through. For now.”
“For now?” He hasn’t released my elbow. Not that my elbow is complaining. It seems quite content, even warm…and giddy. Bubbly, sort of.
“This will be my territory to watch over. Once I return.”
“You can’t be the new Sheriff. We elect those.”
“No, ma’am. We’re taking over.”


“Taking over?”  I quake inside. At that moment Silver trots towards us, a gorgeous gliding gait. Once he halts, his dark chocolate eyes take us both in. Interest brightening his gaze, the white stallion moves toward me, and gently shoves his muzzle against my chest, snuffling.
“You must love horses, ma’am.”
“Yes.” I would have stuttered if I’d said anything more.
“Do not be afraid. We will be benign masters.”
“Masters,” I croak. Now, I’m caught like a rabbit, between terror and the affectionate nuzzling of Silver, who obviously expects me to stroke his neck. I comply, enjoying immensely…yet…


What the heck is going on?
“Want to go for a ride, ma’am?”
Hell, yes! Every piece of me ‘wants to go for a ride’ on Silver, the magnificent white stallion. Still…”Masters,” I blurt out again. Silver kisses my cheek with a velvety press of his muzzle.
“In my world a woman who loves horses is considered more valuable than gold.”
To say my senses were overwhelmed, would be to lie. More like blasted out from underneath me. And lost forever.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper. My hand flows down Silver’s face in a caress.
“You will understand. Soon.”


It’s a double or triple whammy. I’m not sure. The silken, yet rough timbre of his voice. The sinewy hard muscle of his thigh against my hip. The unrelenting grip of his hand on my elbow.
When had my world turned totally upside down?
When had my heart ever tripped this fast over a man?
“Have a name?” I ask, then hope he doesn’t hear my pounding heart.
Silver offers his muzzle for my kiss. I press my lips sweetly, my love flowing automatically toward him.
“Consider me your personal Lone Ranger.”
Powerfully lifting me, he swings me astride Silver.


“Personal Lone Ranger,” I blurt out, as I grip Silver’s snowy-white, thick mane. There is no saddle. No bridle either. I don’t care. I am tingly eager for a ride no matter how fast, how dangerously wild. Not smart, I know. Yet, my heart sings with the possibility of flying over the range astride this white stallion. Besides, my life has not been pleasant to say the very least. More like hell unleashed, especially this past year. So what if I fall — break my skull? With ease, the Lone Ranger leaps behind me. How he does it, I’m not certain.


“Yes. Personal.” The warmth of his breath tickles my neck — tickles my passions.
“Really, who are you?” I ask, as his strong, muscle-hard arms enfold me close. As his virile scent captures me in way I don’t want to fight.
Who is this man?
“If I tell you now, beautiful woman, you will be in danger. I cannot allow such.” His low rich voice provokes more desire, even as his tone soothes.
“Danger?” I murmur, savoring the feel of Silver beneath me, and my ‘personal Lone Ranger’ behind me. Oh, good gracious, I’m in trouble — given my runaway breathless attraction.


His embrace tightens as if he would keep me from harm. “Do you feel protected?”
Yes, yes, I answer silently. But I’m not admitting anything.
 “It will be my duty to keep you protected,” he continues, a rough and ready sound to his voice.
Intrigued and wary, I ask, “Duty?”
Silver dances beneath us, impatient. “My stallion wishes to show his strength.” He pauses, his breathing harsher. “I wish to show you the strength of my lips upon yours.”
Time halts. Then my desire flames high. Yielding, I turn meeting his kiss. His gentle yet bold kiss possesses my lips.


Have a Magickal Year of the Horse…  


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance 

Originally published at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS.

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