Read Sea Panther (Crimson Storm) Online
Authors: Dawn Marie Hamilton
Sea Panther (Crimson Storm)
Sea Panther
~ 2013 Golden Heart® Finalist
Can love mend a fractured soul?
After evading arrest for Jacobite activities, Scottish
nobleman Robert MacLachlan turns privateer. A Caribbean Voodoo priestess curses
him to an eternal existence as a vampire shifter torn between the dual natures
of a Florida panther and an immortal blood-thirsting man. For centuries, he
seeks to reverse the black magic whilst maintaining his honor. Cruising the
twenty-first century Atlantic, he becomes shorthanded to sail his 90-foot
yacht,
Sea Panther
. The last thing he wants is a female crewmember and
the call of her blood.
Although she swore never to sail again after her father
died in a sailing accident, Kimberly Scot answers the captain's crew wanted ad
to escape a hit man. She's lost everything, her fiancé, her job, and most of
her money, along with money belonging to her ex-clients. A taste of Kimberly's
blood convinces Robert she is the one woman who can claim the panther's heart.
To break the curse, they travel back in time to where it all began—Jamaica
1715.
Copyright © Dawn Marie Wolzein, March 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,
without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief
quotations in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and
incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.
So many individuals helped bring this book to fruition,
and I thank you.
Thank you to Cindy Davis for editorial guidance. To the
Celtic Critters, past and present, for critiques and vital encouragement. To
Nancy Lee Badger, Sarah Hoss, and Melissa Stark for unending support. And a
special thank you to Derek Dodson. Words cannot convey how important you are to
me.
Thank you to the members of Celtic Hearts, From the Heart,
and FF&P Romance Writers for keeping me sane. To all the judges who’ve
judged the manuscript for
Sea Panther
in RWA® chapter contests and the
Golden Heart®, a heartfelt thank you.
Most importantly, I thank Frank, my husband, best
friend, and personal hero.
December 6, Current Year
Moored at Sandy Hook Bay in New Jersey
R
obert
MacLachlan licked the corner of his mouth where a droplet of blood lingered.
A
precious taste
. Rich on the tongue yet bitter to swallow.
He paced the deck of
Sea Panther
, his ninety-foot,
black-hulled sloop, allowing self-loathing to course through his veins along
with the woman’s blood.
“Cursed fool.” He smacked a palm against the cabin top.
Coming on deck hadn’t eased his torment. Not even the briny tang of the sea
breeze soothed him.
Dawn neared. He retreated below to the sanctuary of his
cabin. Only on this sunrise a lass remained sprawled across the bed. His
stomach clenched when he slid his gaze over the naked woman lying so still on
the bunk. He curled his hands into fists, disgusted by his gluttony. Having
gone too long without feeding, he’d taken too much blood. Her ashen skin, a
stark contrast against the deep green velvet coverlet, provided a painful
reminder of the monster he’d become.
Bloody hell
. Why hadn’t Colin removed the wench?
Though his hunger was fully sated, the faint pulse at the
woman’s neck beckoned Robert forward. He gritted his teeth against a wave of
bloodlust. A compulsion to finish, drink the last drops of her essence, drove
his fist into the wood above her head.
“Satan, take me.” The fervent plea burst unwelcome from the
depths of his anguish.
He winced and shook out his throbbing knuckles. The pain
would be fleeting. Damage to the fine teak bulkhead, as with the scar across
his cheek, would be a lasting symbol of his lack of restraint.
Sea Panther’s
first mate slipped into the cabin, a
syringe in hand.
“Shall I return the lass to shore?” Colin’s gaze flicked to
the shattered wood before focusing on Robert.
“Aye, that you would,” Robert answered his keeper’s
question. Barely did he recognize the raspy hiss of his own voice.
He need not worry. The redheaded Colin MacEwen knew him
well. Tonight his faithful servant and friend of over twenty years would clean
up the mess. Though appreciated, the necessity was damn galling, enough to make
a man want to slam his skull into something hard.
Colin was a burly man yet he handled the woman gently.
Robert flinched when his friend inserted the needle into her vein. Her
eyelashes fluttered for a moment before she lost consciousness again. The drug
cocktail would ensure deep sleep and quicken blood cell production. God, he
hoped she survived.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. She came to you willingly,”
Colin said, always one to sense Robert’s dark moods.
“That makes it worse. I should have protected her from…” He
let the words trail off. They both knew he should have kept away from the lass.
Colin wrapped her in a blanket then twisted around to face
him. “You can’t help being what you are.”
There was no sign of condemnation within the depth of his
friend’s eyes yet Robert was condemned. The injustice of his life burned like
acid in his chest. The need to growl, the need to pound fists, the need to beat
something into submission threatened tenuous control.
“This time I went too far.” He reached deep within and
clamped down on the aggressive desires. He’d been a bloody fool to allow the
young woman with the purple-tinted hair to pick him up at a bayside bar.
Dressed in black lace, leather and chains, she’d told him she wanted to hook-up
with a vampire. He should have been wary.
“How she learned what I am is a mystery. I ought to have
stopped when the warning alarm sounded in my head. Walked away.” He swallowed,
and guilt settled in his gut. “Instead, I gave her what she wanted and almost
took her life. I have little compassion left. Time is running out. I must
unearth a cure.”
“You will, my friend. Have faith.”
“Soon it will be three hundred years.”
Too long to be cursed
. Too long to live as an animal.
Too long to live as a vampire.
Robert rubbed the ache building at the back of his neck. “I
am tired.”
“Has Dr. Knight made any progress?”
Hope beat in rhythm with Robert’s blackened heart. The
much-acclaimed ethnologist, who specialized in Caribbean Voodoo, was the most
recent addition to the staff at the scientific foundation he funded in the
Florida Everglades. The world believed the assorted experts in his employ
researched the endangered Florida panther.
He choked on a dry chuckle. Their true objective was to find
a cure for his malady. Dammit, they had better discover a solution soon, or
darkness would claim what little remained of his humanity.
Colin watched him expectantly.
“The good doctor is diligent, searching through piles of
dusty historical texts. There are a few theories. Nothing concrete.” Robert
released a frustrated breath. “I realize after tonight how desperate my need
has become. I must return to Florida and undergo more tests. One of those
expensive scientists on my payroll better find a cure before I destroy another
human life.”
His friend clasped his upper arm. “I’ll see to the lass.”
“Aye, and arrange to have blood delivered at each port of
call. I will not risk any more innocents.”
With a grunt, Colin hefted the bundled woman over a
shoulder.
“I’ll hand her off to Jagger. He’ll take her to a safe
house. She’ll be well cared for until she recovers.” He adjusted the weight of
his burden. “When do we leave?”
“Tell the crew we sail on the tide.”
* * *
December 9
Cape May, New Jersey
C
heerful
carolers serenaded from hidden speakers. The way-too-joyous music taunted
Kimberly as she wandered along the Cape May avenue, peering into storefronts
glittered with holiday decorations. She crossed empty arms and hugged herself.
She hadn’t purchased anything. What little cash remained in her stash would be
needed when the week’s reprieve ended.
The chill of the evening wasn’t a bother. There was no need
to hurry. Besides, she had nowhere to go. She halted in front of a display of
sinful pastries. Along with the tantalizing scents of nutmeg and cinnamon
wafting from the bakery, an overload of better-time memories swept over her.
She blinked several times, refusing to get weepy.
After spending a better part of the day trying to rise above
the malaise, she still felt like crap. Neither the seasonal splendor nor the
afternoon of window-shopping had done much to dispel the remnants of the
nightmares.
The memory of the dreams and the related sensation of being
chased made her shudder. And if that wasn’t enough to frighten, the thought of
a hit man—
Enough of that. Kimberly stiffened her spine and turned away
from the images in her mind. A prickle teased the base of her neck, and she
increased the pace. Could the rumor be true? Was someone following her?
The anxiety stealing her breath was probably ridiculous.
After all, she strolled with well-dressed couples along a very public main street
on a Friday night.
She bit her lip, feeling the deep pinch. The reflection in
the plate glass window of a gift shop showed only normal activity: shoppers,
traffic, candy wrappers blowing past. No skulkers. No dangerous-looking men.
Come on, get a grip.
The December wind whipped up, and she shoved cold hands deep
into the pockets of her overcoat. She crossed the street and stepped onto the
snow-dusted sidewalk in front of the corner diner. Stopping under a
streetlight, she nonchalantly turned around.
Her breath left her lungs in a whoosh.
The
drop dead
gorgeous man who stood before her oozed
sensual heat from every pore of his over six feet of muscle clothed in black
jeans, form-fitting leather jacket, and biker boots.
The gaze she ran over the length of him was probably too
obvious. Irrepressible though. The man’s short, tawny-brown hair with a slight
reddish tinge was styled to spiky perfection. A firm square jaw filled out a
rugged face. And his eyes…
Humor flashed in the expressive cinnamon-brown gaze and his
sexy full lips parted into a slash of a grin, displaying perfect white teeth.
She couldn’t refrain from gasping.
A Bad Boy
. Her spine tingled with—could it be
attraction?
Without a sound, he moved closer.
Her stare froze on a scar. The thin line marred the side of
his handsome face from the corner of the right eye, across the cheek to his
chin, making him appear…
dangerous
.
Muscles in her chest constricted. Adrenaline pumped through
her veins. She took a step backward, ready to run. How could she have let her
reaction to his good looks lower her guard?
“You dropped this a way back.” The man held out her scarf.
A yummy Scottish burr stroked her like a physical caress,
and a delicious shiver slid over her shoulder blades. What an idiot to think he
meant harm. He only intended to return the scarf. He wasn’t a hit man sent by a
powerful ex-client.
“Thank you.” She slipped a hand from a pocket and reached
for the woolen tartan. The brief touch of their fingers sent electric tingles
dancing across her skin. Previously cold cheeks burned with unexpected heat.
Laugh lines crinkled at the edges of the man’s eyes as his
smile widened. “Good eve’n to you.”
With a respectful nod, he whirled and strode down the
street. Kimberly stared after him as if she’d never seen a man before.
Gathering scattered wits, she entered the brightly lit diner.
While waiting for the hostess, she perused the want ads
pinned to a bulletin board next to the counter. One in particular drew her
attention and she read the notice a second time…
90-ft. sloop SEA PANTHER seeking fifth crewmember for
coastal cruise, leaving Cape May on 11 Dec., docking Charleston, SC for refit,
continuing on to Florida and the Caribbean. Experience required. Fair wages.
Inquire at Rusty Scupper.
If only she’d the nerve to reply to the ad, she could sail
away from all her problems. Taking off would be a major cop-out, but the
fantasy of escaping from a messed up life offered a certain appeal. And she did
need a job.
“Would you prefer to sit at a booth or the counter?” A
college-aged girl with a blond ponytail interrupted Kimberly’s thoughts.
“A booth, please.” Kimberley’s stomach gave off a soft
gurgle as she slid into the offered seat. Hoping no one heard, she pressed a
hand to her belly and concentrated on the menu.
Nothing appealed. She hadn’t had an appetite in weeks. Not
since learning the offshore deal she invested her savings in, along with the
money of a few clients, failed.
God, her life was such a mess.
After taking her order, the server returned with a sad-looking
wilted salad. Kimberly pushed the limp lettuce around in the bowl with a fork
and imagined having the courage to apply for the crew position on the
ninety-foot yacht. Jumping at the job would be a short-term answer to the
situation. If only she could…
Nah, she couldn’t do it.
During her teenage years, she had loved to sail with her
father. That was until disaster fell and he died on night watch while the rest
of the crew slept.
A tear escaped and slid along her cheek. She’d refused her
father’s request to go along on that ill-fated cruise and went on a stupid date
instead. If she hadn’t, maybe the accident would never have happened. Whenever
they sailed together, she stayed up and shared the night watch. Had she been
there, the sailboat wouldn’t have been on autopilot, and he wouldn’t have been
swept overboard by the boom during an unexpected jibe.
Kimberly couldn’t take the job. She brushed away the
moisture. She hadn’t sailed since that night, and vowed never to sail again.
On the way to the door, she glanced at the ad. Maybe it was
time to jack up her big girl pants. She grabbed the index card from the
bulletin board and stuck it into a pocket.
* * *
The simple act of returning the woman’s scarf had taken a
dangerous turn when their fingers touched. Robert managed to control the
vampire by sheer will alone. Nonetheless, the power surge coursing through his
veins from the brief contact with the lass awakened the panther. He barely made
it to the tall grass on the outskirts of town before being claimed by the
transformation.
He chose not to fight the change. He welcomed it with every
fiber of his being.
Heart raced. Blood throbbed at his temples and a tortured
curse escaped his lips. He discarded his garments and clenched his teeth.
Muscles ripped and tendons snapped and bones distorted to conform to the
panther’s shape. Coarse golden fur tipped with a reddish tinge rippled over
bare skin, making him quiver with urgency.
Nostrils flared, he sniffed the salty breeze. There would be
precious few moments for his pleasure before the beast seized complete control.
He darted through the salt marsh, paws sinking into moist
earth. His growl sounded out a soul-wrenching lament on the injustice of his
life. Robert couldn’t shake the feminine image of the tall graceful woman with
brown curls and haunted chocolate eyes. The desire to mate shook him to the
core.
Far from the trappings of civilization, he slowed to a
rhythmic lope. He hoped no one found the tracks. The headlines would be
sensational.
Big Cats Return to South Jersey
Cougar Tracks Sighted in Cape May County
On closer inspection, a zoologist would recognize the
smaller pawprints and attribute them to the Florida panther, Puma
concolor
coryi
. Researchers would bombard the foundation with inquiries. His secret
would be in jeopardy.
The panther reared its full power and forced away Robert’s
human thoughts.