Here is part two of Atavistic Were:
INTRO: These next two weeks, we’re experimenting. Marcella started a story. My fellow authors are going to further the story and then finally complete it. But no pressure. 😀 We have not talked about our plans or compared notes on the characters or plotline. This should be a surprise for all of us.
Starting from the ending of Part One (click here to read part 1):
“I don’t want your pity.”
“What do you want?”
“It is possible, if unlikely, that I am not the only legend walking around and taking on fur with the moon phases. If other prides have cast out their misfits and those misfits have survived, I’d like you to help me find them.”
Samuel scratched his injured cheek with the tip of his pen. How the hell was he supposed to search for mutant weres? This job screamed danger. Most likely mutants didn’t want to be found and would do anything to protect their secrets. And he had one of his own he kept a tight lid on.
“You really think they want to be found?” he said.
“They will be needing protection. They also will want what I need.”
“And that is…”
Her amber eyes flashed. “I’m asking you to find others like me. What I do with the information is my business.”
Sam shrugged. “Yeah, but why ask me?”
A rough laugh escaped her red lips. “Because, Mr. Samuel Talbridge, you’re one of us.”
Fear shot through his gut down to his toes. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? I’ve been tailing you for months.” Her smile revealed her incisors, curved and seductive. “Several moon phases, actually.”
The sexual pull he felt for this stranger started innocently enough, a slight tingle in his stomach, a strange lurch in his heart. Her gaze latched onto his, but he wouldn’t back down. He had a thing for big cats, the coil of power ready to be unleashed at any moment, the deadly cat and mouse game they loved to play. Shit. He reined in where his sexual fantasy was heading. Right into the gutter, and that meant, he was losing control of the conversation. Taking a deep breath, he briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them, he meant her steely eyes with his staunch determination.
“And if I decide to help you, what’s in it for me?”
On another note: I have two blog tours going on at once – through June 13! Chance to win Amazon GC’s…if you comment. For the list of blog stops visiting my website! http://www.vikilyn.com
Love and Peace,
If I could shift into an animal it’d be a majestic cat. For one, they are beautiful graceful creatures, so unlike myself. I tend to be tall and have a heavy step so graceful I’m not! I also love the striking coats of many of the big cats – tiger, leopard, ocelot, panther, jaguar. I’ve always been into adornment and fun clothes, and well, who wouldn’t like to have such magnificent fur coat!
Viki Lyn: Award winning author of male/male paranormal and contemporary romances. You can find all of Viki’s books at the following sites: Amazon, All Romance Ebooks and GLBT Bookshelf.
Pride will be the death of him.
When psychic Nate Coleman dreams of a murder, he knows it’s a premonition. He can’t forget the image of his ex-lover with a bullet hole through his chest. Nate has no choice but to confront William and face the skeptical scientist’s ridicule.
Dr. William Ryner doesn’t believe in what he can’t prove. When Nate comes back into his life, it’s not to rekindle their love, but to bring up more of that mumbo jumbo that split them apart.
Despite William’s refusal to listen, Nate can’t ignore the premonition. And, William can’t ignore Nate. Before the gunman strikes, William must either trust in Nate’s ability or rely only on the facts, but if he does the latter, pride could be the death of him.
I’ve never really been into the whole werewolf thing. Several authors do excellent work in their stories, but I know a little too much, maybe about the social structure of the wolf pack to want to join their numbers.
Life is fine if you’re an Alpha. Pretty much the same way that any period in history is great – if you’re rich. But if you’re not, if you haunt the lower strata of the social construct, life isn’t much fun. This is all my way of saying I’m not very good at the social contract stuff.
Thus, my creature of choice is the black jaguar. If I can’t have ALL the critters of the sea, earth and sky at my shape shifting beck and call, I want to be a melanistic jaguar.
These big cats are loners. They’re silent when they move. They’re invisible, and they’re deadly hunters. They’re afraid of nothing. And just look at that cat. Why wouldn’t I want to be something gorgeous and almost supernaturally graceful? Gods know grace isn’t something I’ve got going on in spades in *this* body. I’d be all about the novelty.
The jaguar range is amid the forests of South American and Central America. When the United States was a younger country (but not by much) jaguars ranged into the southern US. My mother remembers jaguars calling in the forests outside her Arkansas home when she and her sisters were kids. She says they sounded like women screaming. And every time the girls heard that sound while they were out on the sleeping porch, they raced as one back into the inside of the house.
It’s probably small of me to want to inspire that kind of awe and terror. The only other shape shifting thought I had was even more terrifying.
Smilodon populator. These animals ranged from 450lbs to nearly 900lbs. While Smilodon species are a part of the felidae family, they are only very distantly related to modern cats – they occupied a separate branch on the family tree, but they, too, seemed to have been excellent predators. For all that they’ve gone extinct…
Do you suppose my interest in being something huge and powerful reflects some weird Napoleonic complex?
On one hand it would be fascinating to be so unique a creature – million year old throwback the modern world isn’t equipped to handle. On the other hand, I’d be the only one of my kind and that would be sad. And lonely.
Can you imagine the kind of hunting territory a critter this size would require? And as a matter of curiosity, is there anyone out there who aspires to shape shift into something tiny so she could spy??
The theme for the next two weeks is what makes my genre fun.
I’ve been writing on and off since I was fifteen. Some of those stories were contemporary with not a shapeshifter or vampire or witch in sight, but for the most part, if I were to look back on my work, there was magic at work somewhere. When you introduce that illusive “magic” to a story, the possiblities are endless.
It also helps when you’ve written your way into a corner. You know, the plot has absolutely nowhere to go because you’ve made it nearly impossible to save the day. How do you fix that? Create a spell/ability for your hero/heroine and voila! It’s fixed!
Not that I use that very often. *cough* I try to work things out in a more logical way…but eh. Sometimes a writer’s got to do what a writer’s got to do!
But probably the best part of writing paranormal (and sci-fi which I’m still working on), is that the possibilities are endless. When you write in a genre with rules you make up, you’re only limited by your imagination. And let’s face it, we wouldn’t be writers if we didn’t have an imagination.
I love braingstorming new ways to twist old myths. The succubus who wants to fall in love instead of feeding off of sex. The banshee who can’t cry. A lion shifter who’s also a rock star. A fashoin designer grizzly bear. Okay, so I really like weird angles when I write my paranormal stories, but that’s all part of what makesk them so much fun to write! I don’t like the same old, same old. Just ask my stylist. Every time I go to see her, I tell her “I want to try something different”. I’m the same when when it comes to writing.
How about on the reading end? I love reading fusion stories. You know, historical paranormals, or sci-fi erotica *cough*. Do you like the same? What’s your favorite paranormal race to read about?