Okay, so Blood of the Neko is completely posted now, and I'm so glad that so many readers enjoyed it. It has made me think about writing a third story--as well as more Neko shorts, of course. I really appreciate all of the reviews asking for more neko, as well as the abundance of ideas. So I'd say one will be coming, I just don't know when, maybe by the summer.

Currently, I'm working on another fantasy/romance (think shifter, but not wolf). I haven't been able to get very far yet (three chapters) because I've been doing a lot of editing for several people as well as that pesky thing known as real life--taking kids to gymnastics meets, golf, etc-- but I keep thinking about it, so maybe once I get going it will flow into place.

I do have other ideas jumping around in my brain, one has to do with high school gymnastics. So while there may be a gap of time before I post another story, I hope to sneak in a few prompt responses. I do keep thinking about the anthologies as well, but for some reason I can't get a story in my head right now for them.

Here's a sample of the current story's prologue (I don't have a title yet, either)

I don't have a beta lined up yet so if anyone is interested, let me know:

"Casey, you have to calm down," the man above him intoned, placing a strong hand on his chest to hold him in place. As if the straps weren't already doing that.

The five year old's breathing was escalating as he tried to understand why they were doing this. His tiny heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, and tears leaked down his temples into his sandy brown hair.

"W-wh-what... w-what are you d-doing?" he finally managed to gasp out. He'd been on this table so many times in his young life that he hadn't thought much about it when they asked him to climb up on it tonight. He'd thought they would take his blood again and then let him go play in the pool, like always.

But they hadn't. They had banded his wrists and ankles to the table.

He yanked his legs again, feeling them firmly strapped down at the ankles. No, they couldn't be doing this. He strained to draw his legs together, he needed to get his legs together.

He'd lived with these men and women all his life, at least as far as he knew. Some of them he called Dr. So-and-so, some just told him to call them uncle--he liked them the best, they were usually nicer and talked to him in a softer manner. Uncle Thomas and Uncle Martin had talked about even taking him outside one day, but that was a secret. These stark white walls and the ever-present machines and monitors that they often hooked him up to had never seemed menacing before. But they'd never tried to strap him down like this. On a full moon--knowing what was going to happen to him.

They'd always let him swim in the pool whenever he wanted to. He loved the glass pool--the corals, and anemone, and the waving strands of kelp were so inviting. Chasing Bart, the clown fish, and Angel, the angel fish (duh), was more exciting and fun than most of the toys in his room--except the ipad. He really liked playing games on that.

But they knew, they knew, he needed to be in the pool on the full moon. The pull of the moon was overwhelming, and he needed to change. They knew that. Why were they doing this? He tried to think if he'd done something wrong. After talking back one time a long time ago and Dr. Broden had smacked him, he hadn't done it again. He tried very hard to be good, to do everything they told him to do. So, why...?

"S-stop, p-please," his small voice begged. "I n-need--"

"Harris, we need to stop this," one of the men he called uncle--Thomas, he thought, by the sound of his voice-- grabbed the arm of Dr. Harris who was leaning over him.

"No, we need to see what happens when he can't," Dr. Harris insisted, his eyes shooting over the monitors that several others were scanning. He snapped his fingers at another man. "Get another blood sample. I want to know what's happening with his hormones and his myoglobin count. It usually spikes when he changes. I want to know what happens with those levels when he doesn't."

Casey's gray eyes darted around the room, blurred by his tears as he looked for any of his family of doctors and uncles to help him--where was Uncle Martin or Dr. Litner, or-- ?

Dr. Thomas--Uncle Thomas--was hovering over his head. The man's eyes darted to Casey's racing heart monitor before he looked back down. Casey tried to hold his gaze, but pain snaked down his spine through his hips, and he let out a blood-curling cry.

"Harris, come on," Casey vaguely heard Thomas plead, but he knew Dr. Harris wouldn't listen. Dr. Harris was the one who seemed to order the others around. He was the head of his family, and everyone listened to him.

"Thomas, shut up," the older man growled, his eyes intently staring at Casey's shaking body.

But Casey didn't care anymore, he couldn't focus. Pain was ripping down his groin into legs as his body continued to try to force his change. But without his tiny legs being able to pull together, his body quivered with the pain of trying.

Casey didn't even feel the prick of the needle drawing blood. Hell, they drew blood from him all the time, needles were the least of his worries. He could feel his body tensing with the need, sweat pooling under him.

"He's too young for this yet," Thomas insisted. "His body can't take it."

Another voice echoed from the monitors. "Dr. Thomas might be right. The spikes in his system could cause him to go into cardiac arrest."

"He'll be fine." Casey felt a hot hand on his bare, sweaty chest, practically covering his whole torso. "Just breathe through it, boy," Dr. Harris ordered.

Casey was sure that he heard Uncle Thomas storm away, and he wanted to call to him to come back, to please help him. Thomas would have listened. If he had just stayed.

"Heart rate is spiking, sir!" a voice shouted.

"... breathing is shallow... O₂ levels dropping..."

Another pain spiked down his body and he arched off the table as much as the straps would allow, his fists yanking so hard he almost broke the bones in his tiny wrists. "Noooo..." he wailed, but no one seemed to want to let him free.

"Another blood sample!" Harris ordered, and Casey vaguely wondered about the odd glitter in the man's eyes when he managed to open his own.

"I got it, you son-of-a-bitch," another voice mumbled, and Casey thought vaguely that it was Uncle Martin.

"Harris!" Thomas shouted, distracting the older man from staring down at him, and Casey was briefly relieved the man wasn't looking at him, but then he felt the pinch in his arm again. More blood. "You're going to kill him."

"Back off, Dr. Thomas," Harris growled, turning back to the flurry of monitors.

Casey managed to open his eyes, catching sight of Dr. Thomas again. Casey's eyes leaked a river of tears, soaking his already damp hair as he tried to focus on something, someone who might comfort him.

The moon had always been that soothing comfort before, urging his body to make the change that it craved. He'd always been allowed to float in his pool, staring up through the glass ceiling at the bright white orb, basking in its lunar enchantment.

And they'd taken that from him tonight.