Blind Heat Release Day and Giveaway

blindheat_msr

A woman who can’t remember. A shifter who refuses to be forgotten. “Blind Heat” by @nara_malone now available! http://t.co/oOQyaWmg

It’s finally here, the sequel to the Tiger’s Tale. You asked for it, wonderful readers, and I have finally delivered–it’s release day for Blind Heat, the second book in the Pantherian Passions series. It’s a big read with lots of adventure, Passion, and romance. Wonderful paranormal romance author, Siobhan Muir is hosting me today over at The Weird, the Wild, and the Wicked blog. Drop by to learn more about Blind Heat and comment to get into the drawing for a copy of the first book in the Pantherian Passions series, The Tiger’s Tale.

Side note: I am still working on opening the Pantherian virtual World of Pantheria at Kitely. Major technical issues, but I hope to unlock the portal later this afternoon or this evening and set that link live..

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Blind Heat

I have the cover art for Blind Heat. Yep, I’ve got some hot PanTherian Shifters coming your way. It won’t be long to the release now. I’ll put up the date when I know.

blindheat_msr

DNA

cheetah face woman

She was patchwork
She was
counterfeit
plagiarized
poly cotton
implanted id
She was volatility merged with chaos
She’s why
neither borrower nor lender should humans be

She was gourmet blended DNA
She was
germinated
grafted
harvested
discarded
She was manufactured mammal no one had a taste for
She’s why
neither borrower nor lender should humans be

She was hope in a hopeless form
She was
too animal to be human
too busy clawing her way into her humanity to care
too human to let our disapproval matter
too full of life to die
She will test our humanity through her existence
She’s why
neither borrower nor lender should humans be

~Nara

*image credit: cheetah face woman by dreamglowpumpkincat210, on Flickr

Fathomless Love

Seals Tank

1. Liquid Letters

She haunts the black cliffs by day, walks the shore at night. Memories cocoon parched heart. Reality shredding hope as jagged rocks shred surf.

Seven tears cast upon the ocean, one for each year she’s waited. Encrypted pheremones and DNA. Her love letter. A summons wrapped in white caps, delivered via Poseidon’s pony express. A Love endangered, bouyed by watery dreams.

Beast summoned from sea. Man summoned from beast.

2. Riptide

He rides the surf in after the first sunset of the spring.
Tongues tangle, limbs entwine on first contact, every minute precious, measured in undulant beat of bodies braided with swirling sand and foam.

Seal song rising, a duet of sighs and moans. His luminous eyes plumb the depths of her heart, perceiving his woman’s desires. Nimble tongue uncovers cached pearl, as easily as his sleek form plumbed sea.

3. Remittance

Burning through 364 weeks of missed passion in twelve hours, parting as the first crescent of sun peers over earth’s rim. He’s gone with the turning tide.

Lonely nights and a nursery full of dark-haired children, born seven years apart. Babes who swim before they can walk, never talk, but speak their love with soulful eyes and wordless song. This the price she pays to be the selkie’s wife.

~Nara

***This sixty-niner threesome posted as a contribution to dVerse open link night. Inspired by this week’s research,—legends I found  as haunting and disturbing  as  seal songs.. Guess what my next story is about.

Other skin?

I’m not a skin walker,
not in the old way.
Rather I am the skin,
the vessel, a ferry for bodiless beings
showing up on the doorstep of my imagination.

I am the channel–a voice
for the four-footed
for the winged
for the furred
for the finned
for the scaled voices that haunt my dreams.

Solemn spirits hold as much a presence in my inner life
as the string of broken-winged birds, crooked-eyed cats, and
three-legged dogs making themselves to home in my house.

I don’t know how they find me,
these odd little characters,
those with bodies and those without.

I don’t know why me.

I put out a no vacancy sign.
Still they burrow in,
perching on a stack of books,
shedding all over lines of poetry,
or blending subtly with the pattern of line and voice in a paragraph of prose,
patiently entwining who they are with who I am.

Does that make me therianthrope, were, otherkin?

Aren’t we all irrevocably molded by the others moving in and out of our lives?
Aren’t we all kin whether we travel on feet, wings, or thoughts?

I can see that reflected in the mirror of a blog.
Some choose to stop,
leave a mark in comments with words,
while others glide by silent,
keeping to the edges, to the shadows
leaving only a whisker, the swish of feather against air, or tuft of fur in passing.

Yet all characters, real or not, leave an impression echoing in our souls.

This post was submitted to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub. Check out what others wrote and join the fun.

I Turned Into a Wolf Today

* Howling at the Moon * 

I became a wolf today, escaped my concrete cage. And rules, those choke collars uncountable as leaves, I stripped them from my life.

Would you do it? Could you shed that suburban skin taped around you like a cardboard mask? What beast do you keep buried deep under your bones like pirate treasure?

I brought my wolf out and landed for the first time on four paws, toes curling into the cool, moist earth. Sabled stalks swayed and crackled as I crept from the lowlands of politics and property and up the tree feathered slopes of the highest mountain I could find, seeking the frost line, leveling up from the land of tiny paychecks and monster mortgages to the top– to nothing but frost-laden air to fill my lungs and the territorial cry of an eagle leaving her nest to patrol the lake below.

I hoped I’d traded candle light dinners and polite lovemaking on satin sheets for a wilder blend of chase-me-through-the-woods and tumble-me-in-the-snow. I craved love nuanced with rogue licks and nips, spiked with a bite here and a scratch there, backed up by the music of growls and whimpers.

From the mountain’s peak, I contemplated the comforts I gave up, but I was distracted when the sinking sun turned ocean mists to fiery fog and waves to curling flames. I enjoyed the fire show until night blanketed flames and the wind set surf thundering against cliffs, thrumming like the earth’s heartbeat, vibrating in my bones and belly, lifting the first feral howl from my soul as the moon rose.

When the last echoes died, I listened for an answer in baritone. Breathless, I waited to discover if I was the lone wolf. Or was there another Therian soul who had traded living large for living?

~Nara Malone

Image: * Howling at the Moon * by pareeerica, on Flickr

Wishing all a Happy Valentines day 🙂

What are Therians and Pantherians?

I think as time progresses you’ll see very different answers to that question taking shape here on the blog. To me a Therian is a being that is both human and one other animal, a shifter. My therianthrope characters are called Pantherians, after the island they call their homeland.

Unique characteristics of Pantherians:

  • Pantherians are shifters and to shift between forms they must raise their energy level to a fast enough vibration that they change state, much like water changes to steam, and travel to the shifting plane where their DNA is rearranged and then they lower the vibration descending to the earth plain and becoming visible again.
  • Pantherian females require at least two males to conceive.
  • A mysterious wasting sickness that infects the females has pushed the Pantherians to the verge of extinction, sending males deprived of mates to seek the company of human females in the human controlled regions of the world.

So out there in the world I envision, there are men hiding a barely leashed inner beast– men who are lonely, men who were raised to believe it takes at least two of them working together to thoroughly love and protect a woman. Above is a picture I took in a virtual world replica I am making for readers to explore.

Interested in learning more about Pantherians and Pantheria? Check back here on Mondays. 🙂

~Nara