Dragon Dating...Step One by Serena Shay ~ Shapeshifter Flash Fiction

This blog was originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS.

“I will not do this!” Erol had reached his absolute limit with the pesky camel’s insistence that he follow her directions to the letter. Tuxedo’s and dance lessons were bad, but this he just would not do.

“You have to.” Her patience wore thin, he could tell, but he would stand firm on this. He would not go up there and do as she asked.

“Why does her father not bring her to my castle as is the way it should be?”

Her eyes rolled again and she counted to three through deep breaths. “And do you have a castle?”

Hmm, yes that might be a problem. He’d been scouting out area in this Talbot’s Peak to build a new castle, but had yet to find the perfect place. The mountains were good, what with their caves and all, but he much preferred the submerged privacy found beneath the underground ocean.

“Erol?”

“No, not a castle as of yet, but I have the perfect grotto picked out. The jewel bespeckled walls will be a fine background for her beauty. Yes, her father shall bring her there and leave her for me.”

A choking sound beside him stole his attention away from the plans he was making for his future bride.

“Oh Erol…”

The crazy camel in the car seat next to him was laughing – at him? How dare she! “I do not see anything funny about what I said.”

“Of course you don’t, and let me assure you what you said, while romantic in part, is in no way funny…”

“Then why do you laugh and mop away your tears?”

“Because it’s laugh or cry, Erol.”

Well that made no sense to him. Were all females so confusing? Would his mate be reduced to tears at the slightest of things—gah, he truly hoped not. In fact, the first order of business would be instructing her to not produce those cumbersome bits of emotion. Yes, that would do the trick.

“We may leave now…move this conveyance of yours back to my forge. You will need directions to the grotto in order to give to her father. I’ll assume he knows how to get underground…once there go to the rightist-most point on the beach and wade out until he hits the drop off…”

“Whoa, stop right there, Erol. I’ll not be instructing Greely’s father to chain her up inside your Grotto. That is not how things are done…remember 21st century. You will get your ass out of my car and go up to her door and respectfully, ask her to dinner or coffee or bloody high tea if that’s what you like. Now get!”

Erol protected his bits and pieces from the suddenly kicking camel pushing him from the ridiculously sized transport she drove. “That was a bit rude, don’t you think.”

“Go up to her door and ask her out…do it right or you’ll feel my hooves alongside your head!”

***

Greely wiped her eyes for like the thousandth time over the last few days. She still couldn’t believe she’d been marked as unacceptable at the pond. She would never live down that humiliation. Her mother had, of course, been the first to call with disappointment in her voice and a suggestion that she move to a different town.

Damn that blacksmith. She’d never done anything to him but admire him from afar.

The knock at the front door was an unwelcome surprise, but even more so was who she found on the stoop. “You’ve got a lot of darn nerve showing up here!”

“Go get me your father, fair one. I would speak to him.”

“Are you kidding me?” Greely pushed at the barbarian’s chest in hopes of moving him away from her door, but he was built like a granite sculpture. It would take more than thirty of her to move him in anyway significant. “I’m an adult. I don’t live with my mommy and daddy.”

“Who then protects you from the unscrupulous defilers out there?”

“You mean men like you…” Greely stopped, mid-sentence, arrested by the look in the blacksmiths eyes. Fear lived there, not annoyance or disgust as she thought she would see.

“I will never harm you, only cherish you.”

Right. Did he really think she could believe him? “Is that why you had me banned from pebble pond? Made me unacceptable by my own kind?”

“No, I merely staked my claim. Like the gifts on your doorstep.”

“Those were from you?” Greely didn’t know what to say. The gifts were both sweet and confusing…much like the man it would seem, but she didn’t know if she could trust him or even if she wanted to. Scratch that…she wanted to, with every stupid part of her libido.

“Yes, did you like them?”

“They were…interesting.”

“Excellent. Now go wash the mess from your face and bring along your coat. I will take you to your father’s side for protection and I will talk to him about your future.”

Greely was stunned by the sheer audacity of this man. “I protect myself, Mr. Blacksmith.” Greely slammed the door in his face, happy that she’d had the strength to shut him out, but depressed that she was still a major player in the Doomed Love Club.
~~~

May you each find a jewel bespeckled Grotto of your own this weekend, filled with a sexy dragon who knows how to ask for a date, of course!

Serena

Romancing the Rise of Magick ~ A Flash Scene by Savanna Kougar

Wednesday greetings, everyone. I thought I'd share my last flash scene written for the SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS blog.

When Magick Rises Once Again

Hearing the crackle-rustle of autumn leaves, Zalasdair halted and watched the cottontail rabbit dash away from the intruding human. In this case, the intruding warlock.

The young buck rabbit ran as if a demon grabbed for his tail, and Zalasdair admired his speed. Likely he would survive despite the large population of wolven, big cat, and other predator shapeshifters.

Zalasdair used his force and that of the Mother Earth to gift the rabbit with greater speed and more endurance. Afterward, he closed his eyes and silently intoned his gratitude to Gaia for their deep connection, one that had lasted since the end of the Mage Age -- as Zalasdair thought of it, to his sardonic amusement.

“What prize-ass fools,” he darkly muttered. With a twirl and flick of his power staff, Zalasdair spoke the short incantation destroying the satellite tracking him. “Machines are never a match for magick.”

“Never?” Attired like a mock version of Robin Hood, the woman, curvaceous as an hourglass, regarded him, one hand planted on her cocked hip.

After a leisurely scan of her feminine figure -- from the tip of her suede-laced boots to the feathered cap perched atop her flyaway auburn tresses that she’d untidily tied back -- Zalasdair settled his gaze on the delicate yet blatantly sensual features of her face.

“My record ‘against the machine’ as they say, remains one hundred percent. Do you have a challenge? A technology you wish to see rendered useless, little dryad?” Zalasdair arched his brow, a match for hers.

“Human and Dryad,” she corrected, her tone dulcet and deadly.

After an assessing gaze that swept over his tall length, the woman sauntered toward him. She didn’t need an archer’s bow to fire arrows. Zalasdair suspected she possessed the power to shoot lightning from her fingertips. Or create it at will as a thought-form.

Taking her sweet time, Maid Robin Hood walked around him, looking him up and down as if judging him worthy of purchase. Knowing it would be to his later advantage, Zalasdair placed his cantankerous ego aside. Immediately, he felt the human-dryad’s energy as pelting sparks of white light.

Having been in what could be called a dimensional stasis until his recent emergence into this critical period of time, Zalasdair wasn’t surprised at the sudden animation of his cock. After all, the woman owned a lusty nature, one he would like to explore with the art of pleasure.

“As you must know, Mage, I have been sent by the Golden Oak Circle to act as your guide.” She lifted her gaze to him, her hazel eyes shining like sunlight on water.

“Warlock. Here, at this time when magick rises once again, I wish to be called a warlock.”

Her eyes narrowed while her softly pointed chin aimed at his face like a drawn arrow. “I suggest you begin, warlock, by disabling the GPS units that have been attached as spy devices to many of the vehicles in Talbot’s Peak.”

Zalasdair let a small smile tilt the corner of his mouth before he spoke. “Lead on, merry maid.” He paused to take note of her expression. When she twisted her mouth and glared, he asked, “May I know your name? Or, perhaps, the title you desire?”

“You toy with me as if I am autumn’s leaf and you are the wind.”

“You invite my wind to buffet you, my autumn leaf. However, since the matter of the GPS units are crucial to you, and to the welfare of those in Talbot’s Peak, let us attend to them.” Zalasdair lifted his power staff then struck the ground for emphasis.

Like an affronted warrioress, his human-dryad faced him. She planted her fists on her hips as if she channeled Errol Flynn. “I didn’t ask for this assignment... warlock. I didn’t want this assignment.” She huffed out a breath. “Given your reputation...”

“Ah, yes, one’s reputation. Sometimes a blessing. Sometimes a curse. However, I assure you I live up to mine.”

Hearing the sudden drone of several helicopters, and knowing they searched for him, Zalasdair opened himself to the strength of Mother Earth. As he raised his staff directing it toward the infernal flying machines, Gaia quaked her force through him. Zalasdair married his power to hers and closed his eyes.

“A soft landing you will achieve. Only if you turn and leave.” His tone thundered even though his voice remained low -- almost a whisper. “Remain my enemy, if you dare. And I will have no mercy to spare.”

“What are you doing? You can’t make them crash,” his autumn leaf snapped.

Zalasdair cracked one eye open observing her flushed angry face. “But, I can make them crash. Shall I demonstrate to your satisfaction?”

“Stop it. Stop it right now.” She stomped her foot, the sound muffled by the moist thick bed of colorful leaves.

“What if I refuse your command?” Toying with her was a wicked sort of joy indeed.

“Your crotch becomes my target,” she threatened. “I am responsible for --”

“My crotch is yours to target as you choose,” Zalasdair interrupted as he listened to the helicopters retreat, a slight hitch in the sound of their engines.

Her gaze flared brilliantly, and with her rage barely contained, she demanded, “What’s your actual name since I’m stuck being your guide? I refuse to call you Magician of the Sacred Woods. Or ‘Warlock’ of the Sacred Woods.”

“Sacred wood... yes, I must confess I am feeling quite wooden at the moment in the area you intend to target. Since you ask, my autumn leaf, you may address me as Zalasdair.”

His human-dryad flitted a few steps back. Fright darkened her eyes.

Frowning with his concern, Zalasdair asked, “What’s wrong? Certainly, I have never harmed --”

“You have! My grandfather...”

“Explain.” Zalasdair raised his voice in a manner that did not allow her refusal.

An immense sigh burst past her lips, and her shoulders slumped forward in defeat. “There is no need to explain. Your... your magickal retribution was justified. It’s just that I...I can’t forget. Won’t forget.”

Zalasdair refrained from weaving his power around her. To bring forth a confession of truth would not serve him now. Her emotions already swirled like barbs around him, and likely she would never forgive him.

No, he would wait. Although, patience had never suited him. “Shall I request another guide from the Circle?”

Raising her chin high, and stiffening her spine, his autumn leaf faced the trail that led to Talbot’s Peak, the trail he had been traveling to meet his current destiny.

“I will do my duty, warlock.” She spoke without looking at him. “There is no one else. As you said, magick rises once again. We are needed to bring down the machines. The human and shapeshifter soul is very much in peril. Evil has ascended, and the old ways are their salvation.”

“Yes, the old ways. Yes, truth passes your lips. Salvation is needed from the mad brutal beasts who would use the magic of technology to enslave instead of enlighten.”

Once she turned and moved onto the trail, Zalasdair followed yet kept a goodly distance. With his gaze on her light tread, he wondered about the beauty of her dryad wings.

No doubt lived within him that his Maid Robin Hood could manifest them if she so desired.

However -- while an asset to being his guide in the shapeshifter and human world, it was as clear as his ring’s ancient, all-knowing crystal -- his autumn leaf favored her human side.

“Kellyn.” Her voice floated back to him, becoming part of the gusting wind. “My name is Kellyn.”

“Lovely.” Zalasdair dared utter no more words. She had offered him a fragile truce.

To gain more patience, and keep his bond with Gaia strong, Zalasdair swept his gaze, his senses over the Montana forest. His own ability to shapeshift would serve him with the locals, so he assumed. He witnessed evidence of them everywhere.

Perhaps, on a whimsy, he would present himself as a turkey on the day that was called Thanksgiving. From his dimensional window Zalasdair had studiously observed life as it played out on Earth. Helpful, and necessary to fulfilling his destiny, yet he fully realized it was a poor substitute for all that he had missed as real life experience.

Moving ever downward, Zalasdair fondly gazed at the bare-limbed trees who prepared themselves for the rigors and the resting time of winter. Whipping in the stiff wind, a large russet leaf refused to let go, despite being all alone.

In that moment, Zalasdair realized to the depth of his being, he felt all alone.
~~~~~~

Have a Magickal Autumn!

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
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