Mating Rituals [Impulse 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)
Read Mating Rituals [Impulse 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Online
Authors: Zara Chase
Impulse 4
Mating Rituals
Meteorologist Aisha Carlton has hit the wall with her career. She chances upon Impulse, Florida, where the weird weather patterns have defeated explanation by hundreds of scientists before her. If she can only come up with an explanation, it will reinvigorate her career.
Kane Blair and Tyrone Darwin, alpha leopards, recognize Aisha as their destined human mate. But Tyrone’s personal life is a mess. His former shifter-mate is trying to keep his kids from him and Kane has just woken up in a hotel room with a strange woman in his bed. If they had full-on sex he’s blown his chances of mating with anyone else.
How can he find out what really happened? How can Tyrone persuade his ex to send their kids back to the safety of Impulse, and how can the two leopards persuade Aisha to stay in Impulse, forget her career, and embrace life as the mate of shifters?
Genre:
Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Shape-shifter
Length:
51,244 words
Impulse 4
Zara Chase
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
MATING RITUALS
Copyright © 2013 by Zara Chase
E-book ISBN:
978-1-62242-601-0
First E-book Publication: March 2013
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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Mating Rituals
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MATING RITUALS
Impulse 4
ZARA CHASE
Copyright © 2013
“That about wraps up the regular business. Now I’ll take pitches for our special feature slot.”
The producer’s words got everyone’s attention. Up until then the team had been slumped in their chairs like they bore Monday mornings a grudge, still half-asleep and totally disinterested. But the finest brains in the station’s meteorological unit perked up at the mention of
the feature
. Nothing like a bit of competition for prime airtime to kick-start the week, Aisha supposed. The divide between news reporting and weather forecasting in this new, innovative, nationwide news-and-weather television channel was hard to define. Everyone in front of the camera was getting to do a bit of everything, which made for unhealthy, barely civilized competition. The format had gone down well with the viewing public and more established networks were sitting up and taking notice.
Unlike the rest of them, Aisha was still new enough to find the production meetings helpful and informative. She’d remained wide awake and alert, listening, learning, and taking copious notes. She wondered if the day would ever dawn when she became as cynical about her chosen profession as her senior colleagues. She couldn’t imagine it ever happening because she loved what she did and lived almost exclusively for her work.
The special feature was a hotly contested chance for the meteorologist who came up with the most original idea to shine in a weekly ten-minute slot. And that included Aisha, even though she was the lowest of the low with little up-front camera time and not much practical experience beneath her belt. Not that any of that mattered. Her idea was fresh and pioneering, meticulously researched and well formulated. She patted the neat pile of professionally bound documents she intended to hand around when her turn came. Aisha was confident that she’d get to have her ten minutes of fame not just as a one-off but—and here was the clever bit—as a regular feature in which high school students studying weather-related issues would be invited to air their views. Her idea was big enough to run and then run some more. Simple concepts often were.
Her heart did a strange little flip when she glanced across the table at her mentor and boss, Rick Vaughn. His hair was all mussed up—just like it had been when he’d gotten out of her bed that morning—just like it always was. The way his hair refused to stay flat, no matter what punishment the studio’s makeup team inflicted upon it, made him look incredibly endearing. Aisha counted her blessings. Not only had she landed him as a boss, but she’d attracted him on a personal level, too. He was divorced, heterosexual, and drop-dead gorgeous. He could have just about anyone he wanted in his life, but for some reason that eluded Aisha, he seemed to want her.
He saw her looking and turned away. Aisha didn’t feel rebuffed because they went to great lengths to keep their relationship secret. The station frowned upon its employees fraternizing outside office hours and Rick didn’t want to be accused of showing her favor. Aisha loved him for being so considerate. She was more than capable of making her own way, using her brains and allowing her achievements to do the talking for her. She didn’t need to sleep her way to the top.
“Okay,” the producer said. “Let’s go around the table and see what we’ve got.”
The first two people put up dull presentations about even duller subjects. Aisha tried not to look smug as she thought about her own offering. But she was getting ahead of herself. It was Rick’s turn. He hadn’t told her what he had planned—in fact he’d been annoyingly secretive about it. Still, whatever it was, she was pretty sure it would be slick and plausible. She wished him luck. There was no reason why both their projects shouldn’t get the green light.
Aisha offered him a professional smile of encouragement, but again he refused to meet her eye. She frowned, an uncomfortable prickling feeling creeping down her spine. He was going so far out of his way to ignore her this morning that he was in danger of actually drawing attention to their relationship.
Still looking everywhere except at her, he started to talk, which was when Aisha finally understood why he was being so evasive.
“Why does radar show storms and satellite show no clouds?” he asked. “We all know the answer to that, but I very much doubt if your average high school student does.”
Aisha gasped, spluttered, and then convulsed, causing several people to throw her concerned glances. She barely noticed. Anger surged through her in near-unstoppable waves as she stared at the man she thought she loved, seeing him now in a very different light. The words spilling from his mouth were the exact same ones, give or take, written in the presentation she’d slaved over night and day.
The bastard had stolen her idea.
* * * *
Kane opened his eyes, groaned when daylight burned into them, and immediately closed them again. Some cruel bastard was attacking his head from the inside with two jackhammers at once. The pain was almost unbearable. He buried his head in soft, unfamiliar pillows that reeked of expensive perfume, deciding that he must be dead. Or dying. Or someplace in between. He hoped the end would be quick and merciful.
“Ah, so there is life after death,” said an unfamiliar voice.
Kane opened one eye cautiously. He turned toward the voice and, presumably, the owner of the perfume. An attractive, big-busted woman leaned up on one elbow and smiled at him. Make that an attractive, big-busted, naked woman. A total stranger, making herself right at home in his bed.
If it
was
his bed.
Where the hell was he? And where was Tyrone? He panicked. Something definitely wasn’t right here.
Way to go, Kane. Nothing gets past you.
“Shall I call for coffee?” the woman asked, running a hand seductively down his arm. “Or would you like to have me for breakfast instead?” She let out a soft, sultry laugh. “Again, stud.”
Again? Fuck it, what had he done? The woman was exactly his type—slim, big tits, long brunette hair, pretty face—but he wouldn’t have, would he? Kane and Tyrone were getting weaker and more despairing by the day as they waited for the right human mate to come along and restore their powers. But it had to be the
right
mate. No way would he fuck a woman out of desperation, no matter how enticing a package she presented. It took a special kind of human to mate with shifters and live in a state of semiperpetual siege. It was a life sentence without the possibility of divorce. Women prepared to make that commitment were rarer than Santa Claus. Picking the wrong one in a moment of weakness would be catastrophic for the dwindling prowl of leopards in Impulse, to say nothing of himself and Tyrone personally.
Cautiously Kane sat up and this time opened both eyes. His hangover, if that’s what it was, was still unbearable, but fear overcame his discomfort. Kane wondered about that. He had a strong head for booze, and, even on the rare occasions when he overindulged, he’d never gotten this wasted before. The thought of being set up sprang to the forefront of his addled brain, setting him on his guard. Surely he wouldn’t have fallen for something so obvious? He’d spent his life being suspicious and ultracareful
and
he had telepathic powers that enabled him to second-guess people. Not that he used them too much nowadays. The psychic energy required drained him and he needed to preserve his dwindling capabilities. Even so, if this woman had been sent by Impulse’s enemies to compromise him, surely he’d have sensed it?
