Benoiti Kiyara - Of the Panther Persuasion (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  Of the Panther Persuasion

  Shalamar lives comfortably, but she has a secret--a secret that ranks up there with creatures that go bump in the night. As the Pantherian Heir and a refugee from another world, she lives quietly, sating her desires with human men and wishing she could find others like herself. When she’s invited to Stallion Acres to meet another of her race, one who’s filthy rich, she’s plunged into dangers which threaten her life and that of her unexpected, newfound love and life mate, Drayden Parks.

  Nahdia is wealthy and power-hungry. She intends to establish shape-changers on Earth and make this world hers, but when Shalamar’s secret is revealed and she thwarts Nahdia, she must fight to save Drayden’s life as well as her own. When the others turn on her, she must flee back to her world. However, the price of returning home might be too high.

  Genre: Contemporary, Paranormal

  Length: 20,613 words

  OF THE PANTHER PERSUASION

  Kiyara Benoiti

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  OF THE PANTHER PERSUASION

  Copyright © 2010 by Kiyara Benoiti

  E-book ISBN: 1-60601-852-3

  First E-book Publication: October 2010

  Cover design by Jinger Heaston

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 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 from Kiyara Benoiti

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  Dear Readers,

  Literature is a precious gift. Stories began by word of mouth, and eventually they were written in stone, vellum, and papyrus. Now fast forward to contemporary times where paper books have also become electronic. Writers slave over their stories, and publishers work hard to get the books out to the readers.

  Please do not pass e-books around. It’s tempting to do so, but e-books aren’t like a used book found at a yard sale or a secondhand bookstore. By passing one paperback to someone, it might travel to half a dozen people, but an e-book can be replicated hundreds to thousands of times, costing the author and the publisher huge sums of money.

  Do the honest thing. Recommend your favorite e-books to others, but don’t pass them copies of it.

  With deep gratitude,

  Kiyara Benoiti

  DEDICATION

  For every reader who loves to read erotic romance involving shape-shifters and things that go bump in the night...or under the sheets.

  OF THE PANTHER PERSUASION

  KIYARA BENOITI

  Copyright © 2010

  Chapter One

  He slipped his hand between Shalamar’s thighs and palmed her through her panties. A gasp fled her lips, and she dropped her head back as his fingers created hot tendrils of desire that coursed through her pussy. No matter how hard she tried, Shalamar could never see his face. Oh, how she wanted him, how she needed him to push her down on the floor or a bed and thrust between her legs, his cock stretching her until it burned as he took her to the greatest heights of passion. She desired to feel him stiffen in pleasure and spurt his seed against her womb.

  He wiggled his fingers under the crotch of her underwear and slid first one finger into her cunt, followed by a second. He spread her pussy, stroking her inner walls until she thought she’d go mad.

  Shalamar cried out and gripped the doorframe to keep from falling. Wave after wave of the orgasm cascaded through her. Panting, she waited as the vision disappeared and the desire for the unknown lover faded.

  For the third time that week, Shalamar had seen the man’s body, felt his touch, and inhaled his intoxicating scent. His fingers had tweaked her nipples and played with her cunt as his body had pressed against hers, but she’d never been able to actually see his face. That’s how it was with her kind when they were about to meet their life mate. However, there hadn’t been any new males in this city for years, so how was it possible her mate was near?

  Or perhaps she was just so lonely and lost in this world that her subconscious had taken matters into its own hands and dredged up the perfect lover from deep within her mind. The male had the body of Adonis, so Shalamar could only hope she would meet her mystery mate one day.

  Whatever the reason for the visions, anxiety seemed to plague Shalamar as well. Nervous butterflies zipped around in her stomach. Something tickled her senses, but she just couldn’t quite put her finger on what was bothering her. She brushed the unease away and chalked it up to meeting new people at the impending dinner that night.

  Shalamar pulled the apartment door shut and locked it. The flat had been vacant for nearly eight weeks, so she hoped the elderly couple she’d shown it to fifteen minutes ago decided to rent the place.

  Glancing at her wristwatch, she decided to return to her apartment to get ready for the gala that night. She strode down the corridor and punched the button on the elevator just as the new tenant stepped out of his flat.

  “Hey,” he said. “Did you have any luck renting that small apartment?”

  Shalamar smiled at Drayden Parks. Although she liked her men tall, dark-haired, and dark-eyed, there was something about the blond, blue-eyed Drayden that intrigued her. Well, besides his sexier-than-hell body.

  “They’re going to think about it and then let me know,” she replied, trying not to ogle him, “but I think they’re probably going to take the place.”

  “That’s good news. I always worry about having rowdy neighbors or someone with noisy kids.” He tugged his door shut and locked it.

  “Oh? Don’t you like kids?” She admired his tanned, long-fingered hands as he manipulated the key ring to his apartment.

  “I love them, but it’s hard to write music if your neighbors make a lot of noise.”

  She nodded. “Good point.”

  “Mind if I ride down with you?” he asked as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. He fixed her with an in
tense look, one that said he might find her as attractive as she found him.

  A flutter passed through her heart. Why did this man always have the knack to unsettle her and make her knees tremble? Smiling, she motioned for Drayden to join her.

  As they descended to the ground floor, Shalamar couldn’t help but let her gaze wander over her tenant’s physique. Depending on the lighting, Drayden had a face that often looked chiseled and he possessed a body to match. She’d seen the Bowflex and the weights he’d moved into the apartment, plus he’d told her that he jogged every other day and played racquetball at the local gym. His eyelashes were almost platinum, and his eyes were as deep blue as a brand new Crayola crayon.

  However, there was still something that Shalamar sensed from Drayden that perplexed her, but what? The sensation was like a word that perched on the tip of her tongue.

  The elevator doors opened on the second floor, and a female tenant in her mid-forties stepped inside. She exchanged pleasantries with Shalamar, but upon reaching the ground level, the woman and Drayden began talking as they strode to the front exit together.

  Watching them, Shalamar sighed. Would he take the woman out and buy her a cup of coffee? Or would they part ways in the parking lot? With another heavier sigh, Shalamar shook away her musings and misgivings and hurried to her apartment. Ebonee was due to arrive any time. She’d told her friend to go on inside and make herself at home if she wasn’t there.

  Opening the door, she called, “Anyone here?”

  “In the kitchen,” a voice yelled back.

  “I’ll be there in a jiff,” Shalamar said as she walked down the main hall of her abode. “I’m going to change first.”

  In her bedroom, she stripped off her slacks and light sweater. She pulled on a pair of thigh-high leather boots, zipped them up, and then stood in front of a full-length mirror. Shalamar quickly applied makeup, a flowery perfume to mask her scent, and a low-cut red blouse to go with her black velvet skirt. Finished, she hurried back through the apartment to the kitchen where Ebonee waited.

  “How do I look?” Shalamar spun around in front of her friend.

  “Sexy and fantastic as usual,” Ebonee replied, her smile bright against her light olive skin.

  Shalamar picked up a sealed foil envelope of gourmet candy on the counter, placed it in a box, and reached across Ebonee to retrieve the triple-layered cake she’d purchased from Shock-Co-Late on the far side of town.

  “Shalamar,” said Ebonee, “I wasn’t sure if the new member would like my gift.” An uncertain expression crossed her smooth face. She blinked large, almond-shaped eyes full of worry.

  Shalamar sensed her friend’s nervousness about the meeting that night, but she understood because she was uptight about it, too. They always took a chance going to such meetings, but the gatherings were necessary to find others like them. Besides, seeing Nahdia’s home was a treat in itself. Shalamar had always wanted a peek at the grand mansion that sat on Stallion Acres. She could only imagine the antiques the woman possessed.

  “I wanted to bring something special,” she sighed, “but I was in a rush and didn’t have time to pick out anything truly unique.” Ebonee’s anxiety always revealed itself in her brilliant turquoise eyes which darkened until they became like two sapphires. Combined with her complexion, Ebonee looked more primal than uncertain, almost like a Siamese cat about to attack something.

  “Nahdia will be thrilled with the cake. No one in our group would ever turn down a gift from Shock-Co-Late´,” Shalamar replied, trying to soothe her friend’s fears. “Besides, Donna called earlier and said she’s bringing a pumpkin roll from there, and I’m taking bonbons, so what are you worried about?” She laughed and jostled Ebonee’s shoulder. “We all have nice gifts to give Nahdia.”

  “If only the public knew what was really in the treats,” Ebonee said.

  Shalamar smirked and shook her head. “Anyway, Donna said Nahdia wants us at her place by four o’clock.”

  Ebonee placed gold tissue paper over the gifts and put the lid on the box. “I wonder what Nahdia is like. She won’t be offended we’re bringing food as gifts, will she? Food might insult her since she’s so wealthy. Do you think we should’ve all pitched in for a nice bouquet or even a statuette or something?”

  “From what Donna told me, Nahdia is classy, but the most important thing is that she’s eager to meet more people like us. And since she’s rich, we wouldn’t know what to buy that she doesn’t already have.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Ebonee picked up her glass and sipped the blood-red liquor. “It’s about time another member wants to join our group. Sometimes I wonder if we’re the last. Our people are getting more difficult to find around here.” She wrinkled her nose and looked into the wine flute as if the answers to the greatest mysteries resided there. “I hope we get the special drink tonight. I’m tired of swilling this shit.”

  Shaking her head, Shalamar snorted in disdain. “You’re right. It’s not often we get to share in a special drink, and as for finding new members, that’s an understatement. So far, there have only been a hundred or so around Pittsburgh. And the thought of traveling abroad to find others doesn’t appeal to me one bit. My traveling days are over.”

  “Yeah, I don’t like the idea of going beyond Pittsburgh to find others either. At least we know it’s safe here.” Ebonee drained her glass. “We better get moving. We might be late if we don’t beat the three o’clock shift change that hits Ochre Boulevard.”

  “Shit! I forgot about that!” Shalamar picked up the box and led the way through her apartment. A rich display of antique Edwardian furniture and knickknacks placed in every available spot exuded clutter and money. She’d always enjoyed a prosperous lifestyle, but she had to admit she did have a weakness for rare Edwardian pieces. Pausing at the hall closet, Shalamar handed Ebonee her jacket.

  “I’d love to wear my real fur coat tonight,” her friend stated.

  Offering her a sympathetic look, Shalamar shrugged into her coat. “You never know, Ebonee. Maybe one day this world will accept us for who and what we really are.”

  “Yeah, right.” Her friend snorted derisively. “Just like our own world accepted us.”

  Shalamar let the matter drop. She grabbed her purse, and waited as Ebonee opened the door for her. Locking it behind them, Shalamar hooked her free arm through hers. Together, they hurried along the long, quiet corridor of the building to the foyer. Like sentries, potted palms stood between each door, and the occasional painting or lithograph of animals in the wilds decorated the walls.

  “Did you ever rent those two top-floor apartments?” asked Ebonee. “One of the women I work with has a daughter who is recently divorced. She’s looking for a place to live. It’s just her and her five-year-old son.”

  “An older couple came today to look at the smaller of the two, but I rented the bigger one to a handsome young hunk about three weeks ago.”

  “Oh?” Ebonee arched a perfect black eyebrow. “Is he just handsome or is he a total beefcake?”

  “I’d have to say beyond beefcake,” she answered with a girlish laugh. “His name is Drayden Parks. We haven’t fucked yet, but he seems interested in me. He’s tall, so he actually looks me in the eye, and he’s very blond. He has big blue eyes with thick, pale lashes, and he has the best ass I’ve ever seen!”

  “Yummy!”

  Shalamar’s loud burst of laughter startled an old woman retrieving her mail from her foyer PO Box. “Honestly, Ebonee, you need to focus on other things besides sex.”

  “I can’t help it.” She shot a glance at the elderly lady, who exited in haste. “You know how much I like blonds, especially tall ones.” Pausing, she waited until the woman was out of earshot. “I think I just scared the hell out of her.”

  “You scare the hell out of everyone.”

  Sadness settled over Ebonee’s pretty features, and she sighed. “It’s really difficult to blend in when you’re female, look too exotic to pass as Asian or as
any of the Indian tribes in the world, and you stand six and a half feet tall.”

  “I’m sorry.” Guilt poked Shalamar’s conscience. “If it helps, I’m tall, too.” Her attempt at humor crashed and burned like the Hindenburg.

  Ebonee pushed a lock of silky, raven-black hair out of her eyes. “You’re still four inches shorter than me.”

  Blowing out an exasperated breath, she said, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I understand that you feel like you don’t blend with others. I only meant that you’re right about your looks being extremely exotic, so you’re bound to draw a lot of attention. And you turn every male head within ten blocks, which is a good thing—you should know that.”

  “Yeah, but you’d think people around here would be used to me by now.”

  Shalamar nudged Ebonee’s arm. “Well, if they knew the truth, we’d both be in dire trouble, so you’re just going to have to...”

  “I’m just going to have to deal with it!” Ebonee shot her an irritated look. “I know, Shalamar, it’s just too bad I can’t change my looks.”

  Her friend’s comment hit Shalamar’s pissed-off button. “Never be sorry for who you are. You’re one of the most beautiful women I know. I’d give one of my eyeteeth to look like you.”

  “If we were still in our homeland, I’d believe you, but we’re here in,” she swept her arm toward the big plate-glass windows, “glorious Pittsburgh,” she finished, her tone heavy with disdain. “I want to go home, Shalamar, but I know we never will. I miss the jungles, the hunts, and the huge community banquets where there was plenty of food and drink for everyone. And I miss coupling under the night sky.”