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Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Werewolves, were-cats, and chaos...sounds like fun!

Hi folks! ::waves:: DC Juris here again!



Today I'm sharing a little bit about my werewolf/werecat stories, "Omarati" and it's follow-up, "No Place Like Home."

Here are the blurbs:






Omarati:

Everything changed for werewolf Calliph after the Shifter War. Now nothing more than a slave and plaything to human Prince Obyn, Calliph finds himself on the Golden Magus, sailing across the sea with his owner. But fate has something more in mind for Calliph in the form of First Mate Mateo—who just happens to be Calliph's Omarati—his soul mate . . . and a werecat. Heartbroken, Calliph knows he can't stay with Mateo—he is forced to follow Obyn wherever he leads. Years later, when an attack at sea lands Mateo in the hands of vicious pirates, the cat discovers that, though time has changed some things, his bond with Calliph is eternal.






No Place Like Home:

Calliph and Mateo are back! The peace of the shifter pair's calm, quiet life is shattered by a visit from one of Calliph's old pack members. Calliph must travel to the town of his birth, Naolassel, to speak on behalf of his twin brother, Rupos, who has been charged with murder. But Calliph's decision will endanger his beloved kitten . . . not to mention their relationship. Can Mateo reconcile with who Calliph was—and what Calliph did—during the war, or is the truth of his wolf too much to bear?

In the beginning, Calliph and Mateo were just minor characters in another story - they barely even had any lines! But, the more I wrote, the more impatient they became for their own adventures. Their tales took a lot of twists and turns (and the third story, which I'm working on now, continues that "tradition") but in the end, I think they arrived at the right place.






Here are excerpts from the two:



Excerpt from "Omarati"
Parry. Thrust. Right. Left. Left again. Right. Duck. Back step. Jump. Pain!


Mateo skidded to a halt and pulled the arrow from his shoulder with a grimace. "Archers!" he growled. And then he was back on his feet.


The Golden Magus lurched under a volley of cannon fire. Debris bounced crazily off the deck; chunks of wood flew into the air. Across the way, the enemy pirate vessel swung back around, maneuvering for a second run. The pirates' guns boomed so loudly Mateo was certain his ears must be bleeding from it.


The main mast snapped off with a great crack and came crashing down to the deck. They were taking on water, and quickly. Nothing for it now, no way to save the ship. Mateo gazed out over the water—he could just make out the coast of Namicia in the distance. So close.


"Abandon ship!" Ba'Tal yelled.


Mateo struggled to keep his footing on the slippery deck as he made his way to the railing. He sent a last, long look over his shoulder at the place he had called home for so many years of his life, dropped his sword, and jumped.


Mateo swam frantically against the pull of the Golden Magus as it sank, feeling his breath running out. Fear assailed him as his throat constricted and his chest tightened. Thickness filled his panicked, gasping lungs; a great weight pressed down on him. Blackness hovered on the edges of his vision, and the world slipped away from existence.


Dimly, Mateo realized his predicament, but exhaustion and cold were quickly pushing him beyond the point of caring. And then he broke the surface. Mateo ignored the fatigue of long days and nights spent working on board ship, ignored his injuries. Ignored it all, and swam for his life.


He could see no other survivors in the water around him, which brought him to the conclusion they had managed to escape, or they were all dead—as he soon would be, if he didn't find land. Or a rescue ship. The shadow of a large ship loomed above him, and Mateo gave a silent thanks to the gods. His celebration was short lived though. Pirate ship. Wrong ship.



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And a little bit from No Place Like Home:

Unable to sleep as he'd expected, Calliph slipped from the bed, dressed, and set out to prowl the town. He passed places once familiar and sacred: the shops and inns, the taverns, even the prison and the other interrogation huts.


After an hour or so, he found himself by a large stone monument of a howling wolf at the top of a ridge overlooking Naolassel. A place he'd been to many times, it had always brought him comfort and clarity. He leaned back against the wolf's side and looked up at the stars, wishing he were watching them from somewhere—anywhere— else. How he longed to be back in his normal, quiet life at home with Mateo and Jonus. How he lamented he'd ever for a minute left it.


The past he'd worked so hard to erase, hidden so cleverly from Mateo, had reared its head and shattered the calm serenity he'd struggled to find and keep. Served him right though; only fair he pay for what he had done.


"Some habits never die."


Calliph turned to find Tychus nearing. He hadn't smelled the other wolf, had been far too wrapped up in his inner turmoil. Dangerously wrapped up.


"What are you really doing here?" Tychus asked.


"Speaking for my brother."


Tychus narrowed his eyes. "You haven't come to take back your place in the pack?"


Calliph chuckled bitterly. "I don't have a place. You made certain of that years ago."


"I did what I had to for our pack."


"As did I. But one of us was punished, and the other stands to inherit the pack. Seems lopsided to me." Calliph turned away to stare out across at the snow-covered mountains in the distance.


"Funny you should mention that." Tychus came near him, eyes glowing an eerie green in the dark. "We can rule together, you and I. Greyof is soft and old, he would be easily overthrown. It could be as it was in the old days. You and I could take back our rightful places among our kind; take our pack into the future. Things would be different between us this time."


"The old days? In the old days, you chained me and sold me into slavery. And now you're here, doing what? Professing your love?"


"I'm man enough to admit you've been missed." Tychus laid his hand on Calliph's chest. "There has never been another like you, Cemol. None who could fire my blood the way you can."


Calliph smelled the lust on Tychus, the readiness to fuck, and it turned his stomach. "You're forgetting I'm mated."


"To a cat." Tychus scoffed. "What a burden he must be, so much weaker than you. Unworthy. You deserve someone like yourself. Someone strong. Another alpha. Someone who can take everything you give, and give back the same." Tychus stepped closer, pressing Calliph against the stone monument. He ground his hips into Calliph's. "Someone who can appreciate your true power, because they wield it themselves."


"Someone like you?" Calliph's wolf reacted before his human half did, catching Mateo's scent on the wind, cock going hard and lust zinging through his veins. Calliph fought to keep his composure, fought not to shove Tychus off the cliff, find Mateo, and fuck his kitten into a stupor.


"I would be honored." Tychus reached down and palmed Calliph's cock through his breeches.


"And what of Mateo? Will you kill him?" Behind Tychus, Mateo appeared on the path. Calliph didn't look at him, didn't risk giving Mateo's position away. But the cat's aroma overwhelmed his senses, driving him wild with need. Few things smelled sweeter than a mate ready for attention.


Tychus shrugged. "He doesn't have to die. Keep him as a pet, if you like."


"That's very gracious of you." Calliph's breathing hitched as the undertones of Mateo's answering arousal reached him. Intoxicated, he closed his eyes and savored the moment.


"I can be kind." Tychus leaned in and licked the side of Calliph's neck.


"Mateo would appreciate that sentiment," Caliph murmured. "He's rather gracious himself." His cock throbbed and lengthened, but it had nothing to do with Tychus.


"Is he?"


"Indeed. After all, you're stroking his mate's cock, and he hasn't killed you yet." Calliph opened his eyes and met Mateo's gaze over Tychus' shoulder, saw murder in the depths of those amber eyes.


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