Temptation Rising
Authors: A.C. Arthur
For Kathy Jenkens
Some people are only in your life for a season, yet they have a lasting effect.
Contents
Glossary of Terms
Shadow Shifter Tribes
Topètenia -
The jaguars
Croesteriia -
The cheetahs
Acordado -
The awakening; a Shadow Shifter’s first shift
The Assembly -
Three elders from each tribe that make up the governing council of shifters in the Gungi
Companheiro -
Mate
Companheiro calor -
The scent shared between mates
Curandero -
The medicinal and spiritual healer of the tribes
Elders -
Senior members of the tribe
Ètica -
The Shadow Shifter Code of Ethics
Joining -
The union of mated shifters
Rogues -
Shadow Shifters who have turned from the tribes, refusing to follow the
Ètica
, in an effort to become their own distinct species
Prologue
He could smell her.
The scent was alluring, seductive, and mixed with something else. Fear.
It was the fear that pushed him forward. The knowledge that something was wrong. Quiet steps led him into the towering darkness between two buildings. The air was damp and thick from a day full of summer thunderstorms. The ground was slick with wetness, riddled with small puddles as he moved through the eerie blackness.
She tried to scream.
The sound was muffled, but he heard it. His entire body tensed; every muscle, every ligament stood perfectly still while the sound registered. A woman’s scream. Rage boiled inside, rippling along his veins in heavy waves. Inside his cat roared, pushing to the surface with a ferocity that was almost unrecognizable.
He wasn’t in the jungle where he could run free, hunt and be hunted. He wasn’t beneath the deep green canopy of the rain forest with dense foliage and prickling sheets of cool rain pelting his body. No, he was on the streets of Washington, DC, in the city he’d called home all his adult life. The home of his human half.
This need to fight, to let the cat burst free, wasn’t foreign, but it was strange for here and now. Yet as he pressed on, the cat stretched, muscles bunching, eyes focused, the fight inevitable.
Continuing forward, he needed all his strength to hold the animal inside. A warm breeze filtered past, massaging his face, bringing her scent closer. His nostrils flared as by his side fingers wiggled, tingled, burned with claws close to the surface.
His vision was acute. Even in the darkness the shadows ahead took form: a man, large, angry, intent. The woman—the one with the scent that reminded him of some other time, some other place—lay on the wet ground with the man hunched over her. The strange man was between her legs, her skirt pushed up, stockings and underwear ripped off so that she was bared for all to see. He held her hands atop her head, handcuffing both wrists with one powerful hand while his other violated her body. Each time he touched her she squirmed, tried to break free and scream, but something was stuffed into her mouth, muting the sound.
His cat clawed at the surface, scratching at the barrier he’d created to keep it back. It was against their laws, against everything they believed. He could not reveal himself to a human; it would surely begin the extermination of his kind. And yet he could not leave her here. He
would not
leave without helping her. That was also their law: Females were to be protected at any cost. It was that and the aching familiarity of this scene that had him moving forward, not entirely ignoring the doctrine of
Ètica,
but bending it to meet his will.
The beast ripped free with a roar that shook the surrounding buildings, echoing through the night. As if in response the skies opened, dumping sheets or icy rain down onto him. He relished the feel, the scent, the sound of the forest and leapt forward acutely aware of the man frozen in his movements over the woman.
The man didn’t move, the idiot staying atop her like an animal protecting its prey. But that was not a problem. His jaguar was loose, hungry for a fight, and seeing an easy battle ahead. Bones stretched and molded as he stripped away his clothes, falling to his knees, muscles and sinew moving, shifting. If the woman was the man’s prey, then he might as well kiss it good-bye. What a jaguar hunted, it killed.
Landing on the man’s back, the jaguar opened its jaws, teeth sinking into the base of his skull and clamping down. Sound died in the man’s throat, much the way the woman’s cries for help had died in hers. Stepping back on its hind legs the jaguar pulled back, taking the body now growing limp off the woman. When there was no more movement, the carcass was tossed aside, hitting a wet cinder-block wall with a deafening
smack.
Rage simmered as the beast recognized its kill. Its first kill here, in this place, since that time. That time when he should have been this strong, should have defended what was his, but hadn’t. Guilt assailed him daily, rubbing along his skin like the fur that covered him now. It was second nature, a part of him that he despised but at the same time accepted. He would never be complete because of the past that he could neither change nor forget.
Lifting its rounded head, the cat released another roar of anguish as the scent of the human’s blood seeped into its nostrils. Its chest heaved, eyes blurring for just a moment with uncertainty.
Then she moved. Behind him the woman was trying to escape, for he, too, appeared to be her enemy. Her fear was a tangy fragrance, mixed with courage, a stronger musk that struggled to overpower panic. It filled his senses, urged him to turn around, to face her.
This time he saw her through his cat’s eyes. She looked back in disbelief, terror magnified a million times. Ripping the gag from her mouth, she let out an ear-piercing scream that had him stepping back.
The memory was quick and painful, slicing through both man and beast like a heated blade. The cat bared its teeth, took a step toward her, and swiped at her in shame. She jumped and it cringed, unable to find the right reaction in this form, almost unwilling to shift back.
Again and again he tried to relieve the ball of fire that racked his body, his senses. Her scent was the same, her fear was real and pure, but in her eyes he saw something else … recognition?
Impossible. The similarities were not possible. He was making it up. His beast mixing signals with the man who knew better. In addition to the inner turmoil, the secret was out. The jaguar that was also a man had revealed itself to her, a human.
But when he turned to face her again, to see the fear and disbelief in her eyes one more time, she was gone. He watched her running toward the only exit from the alley. He could have chased after her, would have definitely caught her. Probably should have to ensure her absolute safety. Or absolute silence about what she’d just witnessed.
But he did nothing.
Just like before.
Chapter 1
Two Years Later
It came again last night.
The dream, that is.
With its usual dismal terror it filled her night with an eerie darkness that was still holding on in the early-morning hours. It had taken her longer than usual to shake free of the hazy memory this time, a fact made clear by the late hour she’d stumbled into the shower.
Head tilted back, eyes closed, Kalina let the warm water run over her face. For just a second she was back in that alley, lying on the cold ground as rain began to fall. Those minutes seemed like hours, the fear of him hurting her, possibly killing her becoming a permanent part of her existence. Her heart hammered in her chest but she refused to open her eyes, refused the rescue she knew was there.
It was years ago; she should be over it by now. She’d tried to convince herself and everyone else around her that she was. But the dream just kept coming. The man who saved her life always appeared in the shadow of the night. And so did the beast. She could differentiate between the two, but didn’t know for sure if she was supposed to. All she knew was that it was crazy to still have such a vivid memory of that night. She barely remembered the name of the jerk who had attacked her and later died for his efforts, yet she remembered the eyes of the beast.
The dream was always the same, the one she’d had countless times before with the huge black cat that scared the crap out of her.
Okay, to be fair, all cats, even the pudgy calico belonging to her next-door neighbor Mrs. Gilbert, made her nervous. She’d never liked cats, ever. As a little girl she’d crossed the street whenever one was in her direct path. The exact reason why, she’d never been able to pinpoint, just that she didn’t like to look at them or hear them.
But in this dream she did both.
She heard its menacing growl as if they were in a cavern, its echo causing her body to tremble. She’d seen it, looked into the yellow-green eyes, felt as if it were speaking to her, and was always left with the same feeling—need. Aside from her terror of the deadly animal, the draw to it was undeniable. Its roar was like a broken cry, a ravaged request for something she didn’t know she could give. That was silly, of course, and she usually brushed it off in favor of the scared-as-hell aspect of the dream. Or nightmare, she corrected. Still, there was something that kept the memory of that beast killing the asshole lower-level drug carrier—who’d gotten it into his mind that their deal should be sealed with sex instead of good clean American dollars—alive in her mind.
Six weeks of therapy during her medical leave from the Metropolitan Police Department, and what seemed like endless sessions at which she kept her real feelings inside, revealed she’d despised the drug dealer too much to really harbor any deep emotion about the attack. The fact that she’d managed to somehow break his neck and get away looked good on her employment record. So good that, two years later, she’d received this sweet undercover assignment that could expose an up-and-coming cartel in South America. She supposed she should thank the spineless drug-dealing bastard for something.
