Tuesday, September 16, 2014

FLASHBACK ~ Freedom was a beast she wanted to ride.

Mid-September howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

First, take a look at this new Nessie sighting.

HEADLINE-SNIPPET: Is this the Loch Ness monster?
Is this the Loch Ness monster – spotted 150 miles from its traditional home?
Photographer Ellie Williams captured this amazing image of what she believes to be a creature from the deep while taking snaps in the Lake District.
The 24-year-old had set up her camera tripod to automatically take photos throughout the day at Windermere.
It was only when she reviewed the images, which were supposed to be of the colours of the changing seasons, that she came across the shocking snap.

Then, here's a flash-scene I wrote back in August 2011. Since it follows the *lone wolf* theme Pat intro-ed for her Monday flash, I thought you might enjoy it. Plus, I added a little update.

Anyhoo, I need time to finish polishing my mss, Ride the Roan Stud, so I can submit it, then move onto the my next WIP. I've been begging for an out-of-time closet where I can write to my heart's content, then simply step back into current time... but, so far, my request to the writing goddesses and gods has fallen on deaf ears... yeah, maybe, someday. ~silly grins~


Freedom was a beast she wanted to ride.

“Get yer motor runnin’... head out on the highway,” Kristy screaming-sang the words of the Steppenwolf song playing in her head. She barely heard them because they were whipped away by the blast-furnace winds on either side of her.

Why she’d hopped astride her Harley, roared it into gear, and taken off down the nearest highway beneath the high noon sun... well, she knew why. Freedom was a beast she wanted to ride.

No, not wanted -- had to ride. Right now.

Kristy hadn’t just reached the end of her rope, she’d been forced to climb way past it. Her nerves shrilled painfully, every last one of them. Yeah, like chalk scraping on a chalkboard. So too bad she was old enough to remember and cringe at that sound. Even now.

Good god! Where had her life gone?

To hell and back several times, she answered herself.

And, no, as she’d patiently and impatiently explained to family and friends, freedom wasn’t the name of her bike. Freedom was what she wanted. What she craved. What she yearned for until it became a torment inside her, and finally she acted.

Acted, despite all the endless, weight-of-the-world responsibilities calling her name each and every moment of every effing day. Christ, she was tired. Tired in body, mind, soul and spirit, as she put it to herself.

Hell, on top of it all, she had unbidden visions of being hooked up to some mad scientist’s colossal, sorta steampunk battery. Static electricity sizzled the air, waves and waves of it. In true movie style, gigundis, streaking bolts of lightning formed and flashed to white hot, and Kristy saw her listless body juiced up.

As the vision-fantasy progressed, and it always did, the leviathan flares of lightning raged around her. Edged in a fiendish shade of purple, the sinuous flares danced and twined like frenzied dragons. Until finally she heard, “She’s alive...she’s alive!”

These days riding her Harley, whenever Kristy could manage the time, had become her only escape. Her only true joy.

Sheer, fierce, get-away-from-it-all freedom, that’s how Kristy described it to herself, as she hauled ass down the twisty, backwoods highway to nowhere. At least, nowhere she’d ever been.

To freaking hell with everything she had to do... everything that was expected of her. Her life had become little more than a day to day grind -- an existence she’d never wanted.

Crap, double crap! Even her ongoing sacrifices weren’t appreciated, much less noticed.

So, the sun relentlessly beat down on her back now, and she sweated like a pig. So, heat waves shimmered up from the asphalt, putting her into a light trance. Every now and then, she felt instants of relief as she zoomed through the shade of a tall tree. Especially since the highway’s elevation increased.

“Lookin’ for adventure...born to be wild,” she shouted the lyrics that were her soul.

On a flat stretch Kristy hit full throttle, and revved the Harley to flying speed. Leaning forward like a jockey, she smiled as she focused on the center line.

The zone enveloped her. Born to be wild, she rock-n-roll howled in her mind.

Everything felt incredibly deliciously perfect. The fast hot vibration between her thighs. The powerful roaring beast-machine beneath her that seemed to come alive. No, to be alive.

The sparse, old wood forest around her blurred, and the sensation of speed thrilled through Kristy. Speed, she adored it to her core.

Peace enveloped her, even as pure excitement shot through her like bolts of electricity.

“I’m alive! I’m alive,” she chanted.

The creature she suddenly glimpsed from the corner of her right eye, just before it dashed in front of her, had to be a wolf. It had to be, but it was too large, not shaped quite right. And why was it suddenly standing on two legs... just before...?

Kristy swerved with all her might to the left, and knew her time had come. I’m dead...I’m dead, she sang as the rear tire screeched her death. No matter what her excellent reflexes tried to do to save her, the Harley slid along the asphalt for such a long time, out of control.

This was as good a way to end her life as any -- saving an animal -- even it had been stupid enough to run in front of her when there was no other traffic. Because her last look at the enormous, dark gray creature before she smashed into the guard rail, and was propelled off the road... before the massive tree trunk filled her vision... it had been a wolf of some type with an almost human look to its eyes.

No more fucking bills to pay, she thought. No more taking care of everything for everybody else. No more struggling like a complete idiot day after day with very few moments of relief.

Still, Kristy felt sadness at the loss of her life. This wasn’t how she’d wanted to die, splat against an unforgiving tree trunk. But then when had she ever gotten what she wanted?

Except for the Harley, that was about to be blamed for her somewhat early demise.


Darthos couldn’t let the woman be murdered by the two serial killers waiting around the next curve. Already, the lab-created, human hybrids had claimed thirty lives he knew about.

Craving their next victim, they’d been about to chase the Harley rider down in their deceptive-looking, super-charged pickup truck. Using the isolated forest to their advantage, they planned to toy with her for miles, then go for the thrill kill.

Darthos had been tracking the two teenage males for the past week, and had come upon the scene too late. There’d been no way to capture the pair quick enough to save the woman. If he’d made his presence known and tried to stop the genetically bred killers, they would have eluded him while still sport-hunting the woman.

Not that it had been a particularly smart move on his part to send her careening into a monolithic sized pine tree. Darthos regretted that.

Dammit-ram it, the bare trunk she bounced off like a flung ragdoll was about twenty feet high. As he judged it now, the pine’s girth had to be four foot in diameter. He’d have to heal the tree’s extreme lacerations once he brought her back to life.

No evidence of the accident could remain.

Darthos raced as wolf toward the limp, nearly lifeless woman. He thanked the One Spirit she remained unconscious. Having rolled down the long incline, she lay on her side mostly, her body cushioned by a thick bed of pine needles.

Damn, stop the presses! Darthos had never seen a Harley so mangled and twisted. And he’d witnessed quite a few after they’d been wrecked by Hell’s Angels. The chrome brute could have been a gruesome art piece in a museum -- the artist hailed for his eccentric genius.

Darthos gently licked the woman’s bloody, torn up face. Not wanting to waste his energy, he didn’t shapeshift into his human form. Besides, his saliva as wolf entered her bloodstream, preparing her body to heal at a rapid pace.

Darthos hoped he could breathe life back into the woman fast, and affect her resurrection without too many questions. Yeah, yeah, likely just delusional thinking on his part, since he couldn’t morph until she was close to being totally rejuvenated.

As soon as the woman moaned, and while she remained on the edge of unconsciousness,  Darthos pressed his nostrils to hers, and blew softly. He kept breathing his life force inside her until her eyelids flew open, and remained wide apart.

Saucer-shaped green eyes -- the color of a deep forest just before twilight -- focused on him. The woman stared in utter disbelief.

“What the bloody fuck...?” she sputtered. “This can’t be heaven. You’re not an angel,” she accused angrily, “you’re...you’re a wolf!”

Darthos backed up several steps as she bolted upright, her gaze fastened on him like a hunter’s rifle. Halting, he pointedly directed his gaze at her legs.

She followed, and when she caught sight of her youthful shape, and the beautiful gleam of her skin through the blood-soaked rips in her heavy-duty denims, the woman uttered a sharp startled cry.

Now frozen in place, she watched him with a glassy bewildered expression. Even as he slowly shifted into a man, she didn’t move. Couldn’t move judging by her fear-scent.

“There’s no time,” he began. Sirens wailed in the distance. Someone must have reported the Harley. Or the teenage killers had discovered his presence, and knowing they couldn’t overcome him, this had been their little fuck-you gift.

Darthos offered his hand. “You’ll have to come with me.”

“Where...?” broke through her obviously parched lips. But it was the lost, forlorn, scared-down-to-her-toes look in her green eyes that did him in, that grabbed his heart.

Seizing her hand, Darthos hauled her upward. “Got a new place in Talbot’s Peak. You’ll fit right in. I promise,” he added, before whipping around and tugging her after him.

In short order, the woman gave up, running lithely with him. Darthos sensed her surprised yet reluctant joy at how superbly her body worked.

Somehow he’d make it up to her with a new life. After all, his decision had been spur of the moment, and at least, she’d been saved hours of mental and physical torture.

And hot damn, if she wasn’t one beautifully packaged woman. Darthos decided he couldn’t wait to unwrap her. One way or another, he’d make his unit commander understand. That, or he’d go lone wolf on the super bad hybrids.


Talbot's Peak, September 2015

Wearing the Halloween costume she'd designed for this year's Unmasked Ball at the Pleasure Club, Kristy sauntered into the bedroom. "What do you think... my very own big bad wolf?"

Darthos rolled toward her in that sexy wolf way of his, and like always desire madly thrummed  through Kristy. Yeah, too bad the sheet covered his exceptionally hot assets.

A slow grin of sheer appreciation appeared on his rugged, unshaven face as her wolf-man roamed his gaze up and down her barely covered assets. "I could eat you up, darlin' little red riding hood." He paused, a wicked twinkle in his dark eyes. "And come back for more."

"Mmm-mmm, devouring does sound good." Kristy languidly rolled her hips, then provocatively thrust one of them. She palmed it. "But am I delicious enough to chase through the woods?"

Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ...


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Monday, September 15, 2014

Moving Out

Virgil Hancock carefully loaded another box into the bed of his pickup. Today’s the day, he thought. Today I leave Montana behind and start a new life. My life.

What kind of life it might turn out to be, or where, he had no idea yet. But it would include a she-wolf, that was for damn sure. And pups. Don’t forget the pups.

The Hancock shifter pack might be progressive in a lot of ways, but when it came to mating rights the leaders clung to their ancient privilege like a wolf with a bone in its jaws. Only the alpha pair got to mate and reproduce. Sure, the lower ranks could hump all they liked. Pack law had loosened up that much. They just couldn’t hump she-wolves. Non-wolf partners only. Pups resulting from such liaisons couldn’t rise to leadership. Full-bloods could be seen as a threat to the alpha’s authority. And alphas were utterly paranoid when it came to enforcing their authority.

As a low-ranker, Virgil was far enough down the line to be unnoticed, by females as well as the males. Those higher up the ladder took their pick of available non-wolf women. That didn’t leave much left over for Virgil and those at his level. Therefore, a permanent road trip was necessary.

He wrestled a trunk into the bed of the truck. Work fast, he ordered himself, before you change your mind. All he asked of life was a she-wolf to share it with, and maybe pups to raise. Was that too much to hope for?

In the Hancock pack, hell yeah.

He leaned against the truck to catch his breath, just as a she-wolf burst out of the pack compound’s main lodge. Virgil didn’t recognize her. She was high-rank and out of his reach. Hot on her heels charged a wolf Virgil did know, whose face prompted swearing and sub-vocal growls. Oh scat. Darnell. Mr. Beta-Enforce-the-Rules. Virgil turned back to his loading. Another hour and he wouldn’t have to put up with Darnitall any more.

The two stormed past him and his truck without noticing either. Typical up-ranks. Darnell caught up with the she some distance off. They argued hotly, in low tones, though not low enough that a wolf with sharp ears couldn’t pick up on the gist of it. A wolf such as Virgil, for instance.

“Why can’t I just—”

“You know why. This is too important. This affords us a chance t to—”

“I won’t be used like some kind of—”

“Well, if you hadn’t—”

My fault?”

Perhaps, Virgil considered, a quick duck into the lodge might be prudent. However, before he could move the she-wolf stalked past his truck and stomped back inside. Okay, one crisis averted.

Now here came Crisis Part Deux. Darnell sauntered up to him, as if the preceding drama hadn’t just happened. He looked Virgil up and down. That smile couldn’t fool a blind mole. “Vinnie. You’re up and about early.”

“Virgil.” Not that it was going to matter in about an hour or so. He slapped the side of the truck before Darnitall could start asking questions. “Hunting trip. I could be gone for a while.” Yeah. Try forever.

Darnell nodded absently. “Any chance you’ll be running into humans?”

“I’m not planning on it, but there’s always a chance.”

“You know the rules. No open conflict. Self-defense only. Be discreet.” His narrow eyes flicked toward the lodge. The porch still burned with the high, acrid scent of angry bitch. “Our survival as a pack hinges on discretion.”

“I’m going outside our territory, so it isn’t going to matter.” I.e., no chance he’d gossip to the other low-ranks about anything he might have just witnessed. He saw by the glint in Darnitall’s eyes the anal beta got it.

“All right, then. Have a good time. Bring us back some—” His usual suspicious frown returned. “What are you hunting?”

A life not dictated by hidebound high-ranks. “I was thinking elk. I might try Wyoming.”

“Good luck, then.” Darnell swept past him, on the trail of the outraged bitch. Never mind that an elk was too big and tough for a single wolf to bring down on his own. That wasn’t the point. As long as Virgil didn’t yap about anything he’d just seen, he and his plans didn’t matter a beaver’s flat ass to Darnell. Just the way Virgil wanted it.

He transferred the last two boxes from ground to bed of truck, then covered it all with a tarp. No good-byes. One last go-over in his quarters and then it was off to a brighter, better future.

There was no sign of Darnell or the she-wolf in the lobby, Virgil was happy to note. He made it to his room without incident. He had very little to pack up here—some extra clothes, bits of cash he’d stashed away, his favorite running shoes. Nothing in the way of mementos.

It frightened him a little, how easily he could walk away from the place that had been home and family to him for almost twenty-seven years. His place in the world was defined by the pack. What awaited him beyond its borders?

His first thought as a lone wolf brought a thin smile to his lips. Let’s find out.

Returning to his truck, Virgil checked the tarp and found a number of the ties loose. He snorted and secured them. Pups, sniffing around. He was going to miss the pups far more than their rank-rigid parents. His own pups (once he found a mate) would be raised to be more open-minded.

Before he climbed into the cab, he dug a quarter out of his pocket. He had no destination in mind, other than away. Heads, east, tails, west. Virgil tossed the coin, caught it, and slapped it onto his wrist. “East it is,” he murmured.

He drove out of the Hancock compound without a single backward glance. From here on out, everything was forward. He was packless now. With a little luck and a lot of effort on his part, that shouldn’t hold true for long.

# # #

Miles and hours rolled by before Virgil finally glanced in the rearview. He noticed not one but two ties on the tarp had come loose. Fortunately a road sign announced an upcoming rest area. He kept a close eye on the tarp for the full two miles, and pulled over.

His possessions were all still intact. Along with the one he hadn’t packed.

“Hi,” the argumentative she-wolf said. She smiled up at him brightly. “Where we going?”

Saturday, September 13, 2014

SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY: Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys ~ Chapter Thirty-one


Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys

Note: While not x-rated in actions, Sherilyn and Zance's conversation is adult. They are still learning about each other.


First SIX paragraphs from ~

Chapter Thirty-one:
Zance stared as his mate blinked...

Zance stared as his mate blinked her gorgeous green eyes. Absorbing his words, she plucked a paper napkin from the fifties-style restaurant container, patting her mouth. The full mouth he wanted to kiss, and feel kissin' him all over.

When his cock hankered for her lips, Zance took a mental bite out of his thoughts. Now wasn't the time to lunge for Sherilyn like a rutting dog.

Reminding himself a good mate always took care of his woman's needs first, he put his attention on her.

"Aren't we all?" She quirked a brow. "The whole Carl Sagan "we are made of stardust" thing."

At her mention of the high-profile, gone-to-his-reward astronomer, Zance couldn't help a grin. "Or, sweetheart," he reached for her hand, and once her soft palm met his, he prompted, "what you said to me about your climax."

As she remembered, her eyes flashed like starfire. She blushed, her face becoming a soft pink. Zance enjoyed it like all hell, but kept his feelings to himself.


For more Sunday Sneak Peaks ~sneak-peek-sunday.blogspot.com~


Blurb & Excerpts for HER MIDNIGHT STARDUST COWBOYS are on the page above.

Wishing you shapeshifting cowboy love on the wild side...


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~


Multiple what run in your family?” Gill gripped the arm of the overstuffed couch harder.  He hoped his breathing didn’t give away his shock and dismay.   He tried swallowing the yelp and curse words his shocked mind tossed at him.

Chloe smiled and patted his leg as she spoke.  “My cousin has 6 children.  Her sister has 4.  My aunt said triplets were due in my generation.  So I guess…”  He words trailed off.  Her slight round stomach peeked out from beneath her short t-shirt.  Approximately three months along and already she spoke of needing new clothes.

 Four or more mouths to feed. . .Just how much did babies eat?  Miss Ellie said something about their manure and peeing.  Mounds of that stuff to deal with so soon after the Hellephant incident.  Gill inhaled and looked down. What did he know about kids? His mother split after he graduated high school.  She remained around collect state support and whatever she could off his father.   What was a squirrel to do?

Chloe peeled Gill’s hand from under his leg.  She placed his palm against her stomach.  She’d felt the small flutters and movements since yesterday.  Of course, a human child had nine months to incubate.  If she caught when she and Gill were in squirrel mode, the time frame changed.   Either way, a healthy pregnancy mattered.  No full moon exposure for the next few months meant an easy delivery if the gestation calculations were accurate.  The veterinarian and the medical doctor were still comparing notes.  Dreams of Lincoln and his sisters Greta and Lillian continued during the past weeks.  Clear visions of them came and went. 

Chloe smiled as Gill gasped as more movement started under his palm.  “That’s our children, love.  They’re saying hi Daddy.”

Gill swallowed hard, fighting against the urge to pull his hand away from Chloe’s stomach.  Fatherhood baffled him.  Would he turn out like his old man, around at times when he deemed it important or would he take an active role in his children’s lives?  He had a lot of decisions to make and get right.  What was it Vernon said as they lunched a few days ago?  Oh yeah!  Take it one day, one moment at a time.  Building a family took everyone involved along with the community they lived in to raise the blessings and gifts deities presented them with in the form of offspring.

Gill raised Chloe’s hand to his lips. He kissed it after entwining his fingers with hers.  Change had come and with it, new and interesting as well as intriguing experiences arrived too.


Happy Weekend Gang!

Well Gill's gonna be a papa!  What a surprise I bet that was when he and Chloe found out the results of her pregnancy test.  Now triplets?!  Maybe more.  Best get a library card Gill and start reading up on child rearing techniques.

The last weeks of summer are upon us.  As September yields to the colors of fall, and the start of the fall holidays, stay warm and safe.  Remember to share a good book or two with your loves and spice.  I know I will.

Until next week,


Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Who Messed With The Sign Board?

Marissa first became suspicious when that out-of-town couple that had been stopping by every day for the last week for a cup of coffee and some free wifi got angry looks on their faces and huffed  off without even coming in. As the morning progressed, she noticed that about half of all her customers were grinning when they walked in. The other half gave her quire looks when she took their orders. By ten o’clock, she had gotten one too many dirty looks from little old ladies. She threw down the rag she had been wiping down tables with and marched outside to see what had everyone acting so unusual this morning.
She found the sign board pretty quickly. It’s not like it was hard to miss, seeing as how she had not been aware of Java Joe’s having a sidewalk sign board before. And she would have known since she was both the owner and the manager of it. It also didn’t take long to figure out why it was there, since she also found a new but discreetly hidden spy cam mounted on the light poll a few yards away.
Moon-Moon, for all his brilliance with electronics, was little more than an over-grown child when it came to most things. His latest kick had been watching hidden camera pranks on the internet.  She also had a pretty good idea why this particular sign board got up outside her door. The yuppy couple that had been hanging around town for the last week or so had been not-so-subtly insulting their way through the whole town. On Monday, they had staged an animal cruelty protest outside the butcher’s because Hank the butcher had kicked them out for trying to get his customers to sign meat-free pledges. On Tuesday, they had harassed Miss Ellie over at the Big Horn Diner for not using ecco-sustainable, gluten free flours in her famous flapjacks. On Wednesday, they picketed town hall for gods’ only knows why.
All of this was because they had been up at Prairie Lake over the weekend “communing with the wild life” and had seen a bow hunter bag a moose. They had tried to get Han Ewing to arrest him for the offense. When Han had inspected the kill and the hunter’s license, he declared that it had been a clean kill and told the yuppies that if they didn’t want to see animals being hunted, they should stay out of the hunting grounds while the hunting season was open.
She cocked her head to the side and studied the sign. The problem was, she kinda was siding with the rest of the town on this. Even the town’s hippy werewolves, the Wilk Pack, understood the need for herd maintenance. There were more moose in the county than even the local carnivores could take, so it only made sense to allow humans a few hunting tags. The two out-of-towners had been acting like jack asses after they realized no one else saw things their way. ‘Cause really? Telling a big horn that she was not running her vegetarian diner right? That’s not a good idea.
She shook her head and went back inside, leaving the sign board right where it was.


On a side note, I got the inspiration for this post partly from that picture but mostly from an actual news story. If you'd like to read up on the photogs who threw a fit this week in Colorado because a bow hunter took an legal moose, it's right here. Enjoy!

~ Rebecca

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Sharra found herself slung over his shoulder...

Art ~ Golden Dragon by meganbednarz ~deviantart.com~

Harvest Moon howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Given the supersonic speed of this year, Halloween, and the approaching spooktacular celebration, will be here before we know it. Sheesh!

So, today we continue with Sharra and Zerod's flash story from the past two weeks.


Sharra found herself slung over his shoulder...

"Thunderbird," Sharra forced through her numb lips. "Not the good kind. The kind that devours every living thing in sight."

Once the telltale shadow finally passed them, Sharra resisted the urge to shudder violently. In the back of her mind she knew Zerod would become aroused, despite the dire situation.

Besides, encouraging him in any way was the last thing she wanted.

His arms remained locked around her protectively. "I will loose one of my battle dragons."

Not exactly astonished, given his triceratops pet... yet still astonished, Sharra gave her gun a toss so she wouldn't accidentally fire it -- given it was useless in this situation. As the weapon landed on a thick patch lavender, she spun around, and sought his gaze. "Battle dragon?"

"This way." Without ceremony, Zerod released her, but gripped her upper arm. He led her quickly over the drawbridge, and into his rock-hidden castle. "Tell me what more you know about this flying nemesis."

 "They serve the interdimensional lords of dark magick. This one is likely on a scouting mission. Or there would have been an army of them."

"How is it you know about their kind?" At a fast pace, Zerod moved them toward an enormous spiral staircase.

"They invaded in armies that darkened the sky as if night arrived during medieval times." Sharra hesitated. "I was there."

"Tell me." Zerod spoke urgently, even as they rapidly climbed the gorgeous granite stairway that seemed lit from within.

Sharra heard Quoff's resounding steps behind them... then a horde of similar steps.  How many of these 'dino pets' did he have? 

Immediately, dismissing the question, Sharra tried to keep up with Zerod's bounding stride. "The witches of that time summoned me, and several other witches...when I lived in Ireland."

"You prevailed, right?"

"We did. It was horrible. Herds of sheep were eaten like popcorn snacks... forests were torn apart, every creature that couldn't flee..." Sharra took a much-needed breath. "Even with the strength of our magick, it was touch and go for days."

Zerod abruptly halted, and Sharra found herself slung over his shoulder. He raced  up the narrowing spiral of steps. "I have mind-summoned Nygarr, and several other of my battle dragons. They have been patrolling the mountains. Otherworld enemies are here."

Sharra attempted to clear her head from the sudden rush of blood, from being jostled, and the shock of being thrown over Zerod's admittedly hunky shoulder. "Yes," she burst out, once she caught her breath, well aware he spoke the truth.

"Did magick alone stop the thunderbirds' slaughter?" Zerod halted in what appeared to be the top of a tower, turret... castle whatever, it was sunlit.

He placed Sharra before him, not letting go of her arm. Good thing, since she wobbled on her feet. "The good dragons mopped up, if that's what you want to know. We had to permanently seal the gateway with magick, though."

"Evidently someone has opened another gateway." Zerod palmed beneath her chin, and tipped her face to his scrutinizing gaze.

"Evidently." Sharra began the tornadic spin of her power -- all while the thunderous beating of wings surrounded them. Dragon wings, Sharra knew the sound.

"Will you allow me access to your memories? I want Nygarr to own every advantage." 

Vivid shattering memories of the black and blood-red feathered thunderbirds, their horror-show onslaught, flooded Sharra's mind. How could she deny Zerod, even if it became an intrusion?

"Go! Do it." Sharra prepared herself. Simultaneously, she sensed the thunderbird circle back toward their position. With perfect intuitive clarity, she knew the insatiable predator was on reconnaissance for its masters. "It's coming back."

Zerod cradled her head between his hands. "Look at me, Sharra. I need your eyes." 

She'd closed them. Now Sharra blinked her eyes open, instinctively clasping his hard-as-stone biceps to steady herself. The beam of his gaze not only penetrated but cut like a diamond through her. The sensation wasn't painful, it was the sheer intensity. It was his power.

"Relax," he murmured in a way that allowed her to do just that.

"Wow," she breathed out several moments later. "You're like a vacuum cleaner."

A grin flashed on his face before Zerod whipped around, leaving her clutching the air. Sharra kept her feet and followed his rush onto a perimeter balcony with her gaze. Seeing giant webbed wings, the color of antique gold, she hurried after him.

What met her gaze... Sharra forgot to breathe. She grabbed hold of the archway that had obviously been carved out of an immense rock wall. Behind her, she heard the tromp of small triceratops' feet.

Zerod held his dragon's elongated, slim head the same way he'd held hers. Their foreheads touched at the point where the creature's horn swept backward in an elegant curl. The same color as his wings, the bony protrusion was at least three times the length of Zerod's head.

Beyond magnificent, the dragon's scales ranged from burnt orange to shiny gold. Whip lean, the structure of his body allowed the dragon to knife through the air at a furious speed, to battle as savagely as a serpent.

Sharra opened her third eye, watching the bright-sparking flow of communication between Zerod and his dragon. No, not precisely a mind-to-mind speaking -- even though he gave the dragon what he'd learned from her. More, it was a communing of their souls.

Somehow, that stunned Sharra.

TO BE CONTINUED... maybe...


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ...


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance