Temptation Rising Read online

  For Kathy Jenkens

  Some people are only in your life for a season, yet they have a lasting effect.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Glossary of Terms

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Teaser

  About the Author

  Copyright

  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.r />
  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.

  Then again, maybe she should have been thanking the beast she was positive had really been the killer. The one she purposely didn’t mention to anyone after the attack, or ever. Nobody would believe her. Worse, she would have been demoted to a desk job for sure. Or even dismissed from duty for insanity. And everything she’d worked for, the life and the safety net she’d built for herself, would be destroyed. That wasn’t an option for Kalina. So the big black cat with eerie eyes was her secret, one she would never reveal.

  The warm water sluicing over her body as she stretched languorously in the shower almost seduced her to stay. The knowledge that she had an important job to do cut the shower short.

  She’d just belted her robe and opened the bathroom door when she heard the doorbell. It was way too early for visitors so as she padded through the living room to answer it, she assumed it was Mrs. Gilbert coming to borrow something. The minute her hand touched the knob Kalina felt something. A trickling down her spine, like a warning, had her pausing. Turning the knob, she opened the door and was startled to see a man standing there instead of Mrs. Gilbert.

  “Good morning, I have a delivery for a Kalina Harper. Is that you?”

  His lips were moving and she heard him speaking but Kalina was more concerned with the growing heat of her body. The robe suddenly felt itchy against her skin; her nipples puckered and she shivered. It was the strangest thing, like a rush of arousal or sudden awareness that she was all female.

  “Oh.” She cleared her throat, pulled the lapels of her robe closer together. “Yes. I am. Thank you.”

  His extended arm held an envelope. Kalina reached for it. Their fingers touched and his gaze captured hers. He was tall and lean, his skin an olive tone, his eyes dark. Darker than any she’d ever seen.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, a slow smile beginning to form.

  Kalina pulled her hand away, took a step back, and closed the door. His eyes were different, and his smile was … she didn’t quite know. The whole exchange had been strange.

  “No, you’re the strange one,” she berated herself.

  All this reminiscing about beasts in the night and cats across the hall had her jumping at shadows. She didn’t have time for this; she was already running late. And that wasn’t going to look good to her superiors.

  * * *

  Dressing quickly, Kalina was out of her apartment and on her way into the office half an hour later. This was her world, the one where she was an important officer of the law making a contribution to lives of others. It was her purpose, one she’d never felt she had before. She was no longer the orphan with no one to love and accept her, bouncing from one foster home to the next. No, this time she was exactly where she wanted to be. If lately there’d been a burning need for something more, that didn’t matter. There was nothing more, at least not for her. Reaching for the impossible was a waste of time, a distraction she couldn’t afford. Nothing besides her commitment to her job was important.

  The envelope she’d received this morning, however, might be. So she pulled into the parking garage, parked her car, and opened it.

  Something fell out into her lap. It was a photo. Flipping it over, Kalina felt her heart skip a beat then rapidly thump in her chest. It was a picture of her, the night she was attacked. Actually, she remembered as she continued to stare at the picture, it was just before the attack occurred.

  Five minutes, that was all she was giving herself. Five minutes to feel concerned, even a little bit afraid. Resting her forehead on the steering wheel, she breathed in and out deeply. She wasn’t doing this, fear was not going to dictate her actions. Not again.

  Another fifteen minutes passed before Kalina walked through the double glass doors of Reynolds & Delgado, its name written in block letters just above the receptionist’s desk. The decor was classy, rich but not overstated, professional but not stuffy. She walked across the glossed wood floor of the empty reception area through an archway; it gave way to a deep blue carpet that muffled the sound of her heels.

  Accounting was down the hall and to the right on the fifth floor of the Reynolds Building in downtown DC. The sixth and seventh floors also housed members of the firm, while the first four floors were reserved for parking, and the remaining upper seven floors were occupied by tenants. Her desk was directly across from the office of the chief financial officer, as her position was accounts payable technician. This meant she processed all the outgoing moneys for the firm. It was exactly where she needed to be to trace the money going to South America. All those night courses she’d taken in economics, finance, and accounting had finally paid off.

  Settling at her desk, she’d already started convincing herself that the photo was some kind of joke. Maybe from her co-workers at the precinct—they all had sick senses of humor in the narcotics division. Satisfied with that impromptu explanation, she put her purse in the drawer and booted up her computer.

  As she waited for t
he computer to come to life, her throat felt dry. Actually it was more like her tongue felt too thick for her mouth, her back teeth aching a bit. This was something else that had been going on for a couple of weeks, another weird issue she refused to accept as important. Standing, she decided a cup of coffee would be good to get her started. Dan Mathison, the CFO and her immediate supervisor, wouldn’t be in for another hour and the two remaining members of the department weren’t in yet, so she still had time.

  “He’s got to be the sexiest man alive,” Pam Winston, the fifth-floor receptionist, said with a sigh.

  She hadn’t been at her desk when Kalina first entered the office, and with a tinge of dread Kalina picked up her pace as she approached the reception desk now.

  “At the very least the sexiest in DC,” Pam continued.

  “Yes, ma’am, I certainly agree.” This was Ava Jackson, the paralegal from the estates and trusts department, which was on the other side of the floor.

  But just about every time Kalina went to the kitchen these ladies were conversing at the receptionist’s desk. She hated that she had to pass this area to get to the kitchen and her desired cup of coffee. Office gossip was another thing that made this particular assignment a headache. And just about every time she walked past these two they were talking about men. Today was no different.

  “But he’s so angry all the time,” Ava was saying.

  “I wouldn’t say angry, maybe just grouchy.” Pam contemplated for a second. “Still, he’s the boss, so he can afford to act any way he pleases. And he still looks good. You see him yet this morning?”

  “Uh-huh. What’s he wearing today?” Ava asked with her contact-gray eyes growing larger.

  “That navy-blue suit, the one with the stripes,” Pam said, picking up a piece of the mail she was supposed to be opening and then distributing, using it instead to fan herself.

  “And the ice-blue tie over the crisp white shirt. Girl, I see him in that every night in my dreams. Love when he wears that suit. Absolutely love it!”