We're so close to releasing The Lycanthrope Club: Book II I can taste it.
I said I wouldn't be posting another preview of the book, but again, I lied.
Here's a snippet from "First Night" - an exclusive short story detailing Melinda and Phillip's first night in the woods as werewolves. It will only be included in the full-color edition PDF available to contributors and print copies (both color and greyscale). It's a description of the first male werewolf in the series, post-transformation.
Yes, he does have a bit of a bishie vibe to him.
* * *
Phillip's pelt was grey. Slightly light grey, in fact - almost silvery without looking aged. [Melinda] found herself gently gliding her paw along his shoulders, feeling his hairs run between her digits.
"Phillip?" she said apprehensively.
There was no response. Phillip's shoulders slowly rose and sank as he breathed.
Melinda frowned, thinking. She had passed out the first time she transformed. Maybe he was unconscious.
"Phillip?" she repeated, this time louder.
"Yeah, yeah...I'm OK."
Phillip's speaking voice had gone from a tenor to a resonant baritone. Steeling herself, Melinda slowly lowered her arms and stepped back. Phillip turned to face her. Melinda's jaw dropped.
In truth she had half-expected to see some kind of hulking lupine brute, particularly after feeling how much he had grown. Yes, he was taller than her, but leaner. She actually had an inch or two on him in terms of raw mass yet his physique was still quite masculine. Undeniably masculine, she noted as she gazed downwards, blushing. Her questing eyes traveled up his body. His fur was lighter around his tight, sinewy stomach and torso. His nose and muzzle were short but sharp, a mask-like coloring of darker grey encircling his eyes, which had turned yellowish-brown. His hair - or the fur around his head, Melinda still wasn't sure what to call it - had lengthened and turned pure white. It shone gently in the alabaster light of the moon. His ears were noticeably large and long, drooping forward slightly. Though his face bore traces of his human self there was something else there - a strange, quiet nobility Melinda had never seen in him before.
"Melinda?" intoned Phillip.
Startled, Melinda wiped the drool from her mouth and spoke.
"Is that you?" she whispered in awe.
Phillip stared down at his paws, flexing his padded, clawed digits.
"I guess so," he replied.