Black Tide [Panther Key 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)
Panther Key 3
Black Tide
Long thought extinguished, the power of the black panther is rising again.
Forced on a trip to Florida, Emma Walker meets Diego Anton on the plane and sparks fly. The attraction is instant, but so is a mysterious link that binds the two of them together. Diego is actually on a mission to kidnap Emma, but when he realizes his quarry is the one woman with the power to change the world—and his heart—he has a decision to make.
Playboy panther shifters Cash and Chase Dawson are reluctant to settle down, their carefree lifestyles hiding a pain they fear may never be healed. But when their mate arrives with a vampire in tow, their claws are ready to come out.
As family secrets are finally revealed, ancient enemies must work together to protect the woman they love. And when the legendary power is finally released, the panther clan and the vampire realm will be changed forever.
Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among siblings.
Genre: Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Shape-shifter
Length: 40,124 words
BLACK TIDE
Panther Key 3
Scarlet Day
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
BLACK TIDE
Copyright © 2013 by Scarlet Day
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-650-8
First E-book Publication: March 2013
Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
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Regarding E-book Piracy
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DEDICATION
To my family, whose love and support make it possible for me to pursue this dream called writing.
BLACK TIDE
Panther Key 3
SCARLET DAY
Copyright © 2013
Chapter One
Emma tapped her fingers on the armrest and looked through the window for what felt like the thousandth time. There still wasn’t much to see. A seemingly endless expanse of blue stretched out far below the airplane as they flew over the Gulf of Mexico. Her impatience had grown by the minute since their departure from Austin, despite her best efforts to drown it with alcohol. She picked up the small cup on the little tray in front of her and drained the rest of her second Diet Coke and vanilla vodka.
“You shouldn’t drink so much,” Emma’s mother admonished her from the seat next to her. “And stop chewing on your hair. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
Emma huffed and yanked the strand of hair from between her lips. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it again. “Care to tell me what this trip is about?”
Her mother shifted in her seat and remained silent. Emma knew she wouldn’t answer the question, but it was the fastest way to get her mother to leave her alone. Emma’s nerves were frayed enough without her mother keeping track of her drinks and pointing out her bad habits.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go to Florida. She was thrilled to get to see her twin sister and her cousin. Not to mention that she wouldn’t mind soaking up some sun and admiring the male scenery on Miami Beach. But the timing really, truly sucked.
Unlike her twin sister Abby, who had completed a Master’s Degree and was now working as an environmental scientist in South Florida, Emma had taken a more artistic route. She had finished her Bachelor’s Degree, but it was in contemporary art, a subject her mother still thought was a waste of time and told her so frequently. Emma hadn’t let her mother’s negativity stop her from doing what she loved, though. Art was her passion, and she had worked hard to build her skills in her chosen craft. Which was exactly why she was in such a snit over this unexpected and inconvenient trip.
Emma’s chosen medium was glass. Not the blown type that craftsmen manipulated with heat and air. Emma crafted mosaic art with sea glass, the type recovered from the ocean floor and picked up from beaches around the world. Many mosaic artists used artificially tumbled glass that was manufactured to look like authentic sea glass, but Emma preferred the real thing. It was ironic, since she’d never actually been to a beach, even though she lived only a few hours away from one. It was yet another reason why she was looking forward to spending some time on the white Florida sands. She was even hoping she would find a few pieces of the coveted glass.
She never cut the glass to fit the shape she wanted. Instead, she let the naturally tumbled shape of the various pieces determine their placement in her work. It was a painstaking and time-consuming process, but it was also one of the things that made it unique.
The glass was expensive, too. It took almost everything Emma made as a bartender in one of Austin’s Sixth Street clubs to pay for supplies. Her mother hated her working in the club, especially on the night shifts, but the tips were good and she could spend daylight hours working with the glass outside in natural sunlight.
Emma had finally completed enough pieces suitable for public showing and had managed to secure a spot in a new private gallery that was opening in downtown Austin. Problem was, the gallery opening was tonight. And she was missing
it. Emma crossed her arms and sunk back in her seat. She forcibly tamped down her rising frustration for probably the hundredth time since getting on the plane this morning.
Something definitely had her mother freaked out, but Emma couldn’t think of anything important enough to miss her debut gallery showing. When her mother sprung the news of this trip on her yesterday, Emma had absolutely refused to go. After all, she was twenty-five years old and didn’t have to do everything her mother told her to do. Or at least, that’s what she had thought.
Her mother normally backed down when Emma’s rebellious side emerged, which was pretty frequently. But this time, her mother had pulled the ultimate “or else” card. She had actually threatened to kick Emma out of the house.
Emma fumed as she squirmed in the uncomfortable airplane seat. She still couldn’t believe her mother had actually threatened to make her move out. Starving artists didn’t exactly make a lot of money. That’s why they were, well, starving. Her mother might still scoff at her chosen profession, but her parents had never made her pay rent. Or buy groceries. Dammit, her mother had used the one threat that Emma couldn’t call her bluff on.
Emma still couldn’t understand what could possibly cause her very practical and organized mother to drop everything and jump on the next flight to Miami. They had never gone on a family vacation without her mother planning out everything to the very last detail. Her father, who had always been supportive of Emma’s art, hadn’t even protested about her mother forcing her to miss her first show. There was something very wrong about this trip, but Emma was obviously going to have to wait to find out what.
Emma squirmed again. This time, though, it was because of the drinks she’d had and not from frustration. She needed to pee. She unfastened her seat belt, picked up her empty cup, and fastened the tray in front of her.
“I’ll be back, Mom.” Emma stood up and squeezed past her mother into the aisle. She looked toward the back of the plane and saw a line for the two restroom stalls. She felt her bladder spasm in protest. She knew she wasn’t going to make it in time if she had to stand in that line. She looked desperately toward the front of the airplane, but the curtain was drawn between coach and first class. She knew there was another restroom up there. And she would just bet there wasn’t a line.
Deciding to go for it, she walked quickly to the curtain and pulled it aside enough to sneak through.
“Can I help you?”
Emma jumped as a flight attendant emerged from the galley between coach and first class. It was the same one who had served her the two drinks earlier. Emma stared at her for a moment with what she knew must have been a deer-in-headlights look before she snapped out of the chagrin of being caught sneaking into first class.
“Um…I need to…you know…really, really bad.” She hopped up and down a little for good measure, hoping to gain a little sympathy.
The flight attendant smiled knowingly. “Come on, no one is using the one up here anyway.”
Emma sighed in relief and followed the flight attendant up the aisle. The seats up here were so much nicer than the ones in coach. They were much wider and made of leather, with lots of legroom. If her mother had to drag her away from the most important event of her entire life, why couldn’t she at least have splurged for first class?
Chapter Two
Diego looked at his watch and then drummed his fingers on the armrest. This flight seemed to be taking forever. And he was a pretty good judge of what forever really felt like.
One last job. That’s what Tiberius had promised him. If he did this one last job, Tiberius would release him from his creator link. Diego would walk through the fires of hell to be rid of the connection he had to his creator. He could resist Tiberius’s instructions for a while, but the consequences were brutal. Tiberius was one of the original ancient vampires and the one who had turned Diego. He could inflict psychic pressure on Diego that was torture. Tiberius frequently used Diego’s natural psychic and empathic abilities against him, since natural ability enhanced Tiberius’s control over him.
Diego had spent the better part of the last nine centuries looking for a way to break the link, but he had failed. And every failure had brought a punishment. Without exception, Tiberius had hunted him down each and every time. Diego had spent years locked in Tiberius’s many dungeons, paying for his crimes of betrayal. He kept those memories firmly locked deep inside his consciousness and refused to allow them out in the open. It was probably the only way he had stayed sane. As much as he hated doing anything for the loathsome monster that had turned him, Diego wanted his freedom more.
Diego knew his quarry was on this plane. He knew which seat she was in, back in the cramped coach section. Once Tiberius had directed him to a target, Diego’s psychic abilities had shown him she and her mother would be flying from Austin to Miami today. A couple of hours hacking into the various airlines’ computer systems had given him her flight number and seat assignment. He had even walked back through coach to get a look at her. He hadn’t been able to see her face, since she had been turned staring out the window and her hair had obscured her features. But her long, black hair with the striking, pink streak dyed into it would make her an easily identifiable target. He had decided to wait until they were on the ground in Miami to separate her from her mother. Once he delivered her to Tiberius, the bond would be broken. Tiberius had already given Diego his sworn word, and whatever else Tiberius was, he was not a liar. For better or worse, he always kept his word.
The thought of finally being out from under Tiberius’s influence was all the motivation Diego needed to get this job done quickly. He felt bad for whatever Tiberius had planned for this girl and was mystified as to what he could possibly want her for. He had tried to search for her future beyond this flight, but it was as though a blank wall prevented him from seeing any further. He had never encountered such a block, and it concerned him. But he put his trepidation and his compassion for what might happen to this girl aside. She wasn’t his problem.
Diego closed his eyes and settled back into his seat. He allowed himself a moment to imagine the life he could have without the psychic connection to his maker. No longer would Tiberius haunt his dreams, forcing him to relive his worst nightmares. Diego’s thoughts and moods would be his own, no longer contorted by Tiberius’s superior psychic strength.
A light breeze wafted across Diego’s face, bringing with it the delicate and enticing scent of honeysuckle. He opened his eyes in time to see the back of a woman as she rushed passed him and darted into the restroom. A bright-pink streak in a curtain of black hair caught his attention. His quarry.
He sat up straighter in his seat, focusing his attention on the restroom door in anticipation. Maybe if he saw her face he would be able to break through the psychic barrier and get a read on her future. He scolded himself for admitting any curiosity or concern, since whatever Tiberius had in mind couldn’t possibly be good. But as her delicate scent lingered in his nostrils, he found that he just couldn’t help himself. His inability to see her future was a riddle. And Diego had never liked riddles.
He found himself tapping his fingers on the armrest. How long could it possibly take one small woman to pee? Had she drank the entire supply of water on board the airplane? Diego thought back to his expedition through the coach section and remembered the two little bottles of vodka on her tray table. Ah. That explained it. Alcohol always seemed to have this effect of humans. As a vampire, he could drink and eat like any normal human. But unlike humans, his body simply burned it up within minutes. Alcohol provided a momentary relaxation of his nerves, but it never lasted long enough for his liking.
Diego finally heard the latch click, and the door swung open. He watched intently as his target exited the restroom. Her white shorts highlighted her shapely legs. She wore a sleeveless, green top that contrasted nicely against her dark hair. She was looking down. He wanted her to look up so he could see her eyes.
“Look up. Please, look up.” Hi
s plea was silent, but it felt like a shout in his mind.
With an unexpected sharp snap of the woman’s head, Diego found himself staring into the greenest eyes he had ever seen. She had stopped walking and was standing mid-step only a couple feet in front of him. Her hand was frozen in the act of pulling her hair back behind her ear. Her startled stare bore straight through him, into his very soul.
Chapter Three
Emma couldn’t move. Black eyes held her captive and rooted her to the spot. She had felt a popping sensation inside her head at the same time she had heard the words.
“Look up. Please, look up.”
She opened her mouth and struggled to form words. “I’m sorry–did, did you say something?”
The man stared at her with a look that seemed a mixture of awe and confusion. She watched as he steadied himself and narrowed his eyes at her.
“What do you think I said?” His voice was deep and as smooth as silk.
“You told me to look up. Didn’t you?” Confusion washed over Emma. Had she imagined the voice?
The man continued to stare at her, speculation crossing his features. Emma began to feel self-conscious, and she shifted her weight back and forth on her feet. She knew she should return to her seat, but she just couldn’t seem to get her legs to move in that direction.
“Please, sit with me.” The man lithely stood up and moved out into the aisle, motioning to the empty seat next to his and blocking Emma’s retreat to the coach section.