Pureblood Panther: Paranormal Romance (Books 1-3)

By Clara A. Tobin

They want me to mate with a pureblood. 
A complete stranger. 
And there's no way I'm going to do that.

Larissa had never felt much interest in dating ordinary men. Perhaps they lacked the intensity, the fierce but stealthy gaze, the heart and soul of a true shifter. Many years after having left the Valley of Mists, where her roots lie, Larissa is called back, only to discover that she has to settle a debt for her family by mating with a pureblood, a complete stranger…

Erotic Standalone Paranormal Romance. The Complete Series Books 1-3.
No Cliffhanger. 18+ Only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clara A. Tobin
• Release date: Jan 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781386522195

Book preview

Prologue

Panthers have roamed the forests since long before human beings set foot upon the face of the earth. They were, at one time, the most populous big cats on the planet, with many lineages taking up residence in all corners of the world. Across the great continents of ancient times they would later come to be known as puma, jaguar, leopard and mountain lion. But no matter what they were called, panthers have always lived as stealth royals, sentinels who brought calm and clarity in the midst of turmoil and upheaval.

Every year before the snows, panther families traveling in small groups made their way back home to the Valley of Mists, where all of the important matters were discussed, and new alliances forged between families. Cubs were promised to one another in exchanges that would see many a youngster paired off with one another from a half world away. The older ones were sent off to their mates’ homes straightaway at the end of the annual gathering, while younger ones returned home with their mothers until they were old enough to breed.

These alliances between families often had to be revised each year. Due to bad luck, weather, fierce competition within each group—both with each other but more so with other big cats and mammals—some cubs would die off, leaving a vacant promise, or brawl, between families. If the brawl was not addressed at the following year’s gathering, a rift could form between strong clans. And rifts could lead to wars.

The annual pilgrimage to the Valley of Mists had helped keep the peace for many generations when the first humans began to pepper the Valley in roving bands of hunter-gatherers. At first, the panthers tolerated them. They didn’t seem to be a substantial threat except in the competition for meat, and that was easily managed, as there was plenty of game for all parties. The panthers watched them closely, though, and they coveted the fire wielded by men because it gave them power over all of the others in the forest.

While panthers—then and now—may exist in many shades of earth tones as well as stripes and spotted camouflage patterns, certain changes led to the development of black and white panthers, who represented the extremes of panther ways.

It is said that the white panther became so jealous of the humans that one day she took one of their children, brought it to her lair, and raised it as her own, thinking she could raise the child to teach her the secrets of fire. She was angered, however, when the child refused. The white panther mother lunged at the boy, ready to kill him.

It was then that her neighbor, the black panther, intervened. She had been watching the human child with the white panther mother for some time, and she had seen something special in its eyes. She thought it would be a bad omen to kill the child, and so she snatched it out of the white panther mother’s jaws.

The white panther never forgave the black panther. Instead, she plotted revenge. But the boy grew into a fearsome warrior and was always at her side, ready to protect his new mother. Eventually, the black panther mother grew old. Too old to go out hunting with him each day. But each night he would bring back to her a portion of his kill.

Until one night, when he returned to the den, only to find his white panther mother standing over the corpse of his black panther mother, blood still dripping from her jaws. She readied herself and lunged at him, but he had grown up strong and quick. His hunting dagger found her heart before the white panther mother even had a chance to get her jaws around his neck, and she fell to the ground next to the black panther mother as a tear fell down the man’s cheek.

The son, in his grief, made a coat out of the pelts of his two mothers. But this was no ordinary coat. Its magic transformed the man into a panther shifter. A man who could take on the aspect of a panther at will.

The first of his kind, although he was far from the last.

Book 1: Going Home

The glow of firelight silhouetted the little girl as she wandered alone into the woods. Someone was hiding there, waiting for her.

He called to her.

Lar-i-i-i-s-s-a-a-a-a-ah. Lar-i-i-i-s-s-a-a-a-a-ah.

She recognized the voice. It sent a shiver up her spine. She wasn’t sure she liked it, but she trusted the boy whose voice kept calling to her. The boy whose face she couldn’t recall, but whom she expected to find around the other side of the bushes.

He wouldn’t go far into the woods, would he?

Lar-i-i-i-s-s-a-a-a-a-ah.

The little girl was swallowed up by the darkness that smothered the woods. The whole scene was made darker by contrast with the nearby fire. Near enough she could still hear the laughter coming from the happy faces whose owners were camped around it in a circle.

Lar-i-i-i-s-s-a-a-a-a-ah.

The girl’s feet pattered lightly over dead leaves made moist by the late summer rain. Years’ worth of debris had decayed down into the spongy, soft forest floor, muting her footfalls. Deadening them to the outside world.

Lar-i-i-i-s-s-a-a-a-a-ah.

She trod over knobby tree roots and broken rock in nothing but her bare feet. Wearing only the slip of a nightgown her mother had put on her, reminding her that she needed to go bed after just saying her goodnights. One trip around the campfire and then...

Lar-i-i-i-s-s-a-a-a-a-ah. Lar-i-i-i-s-s-a-a-a-a-ah.

The girl’s foot landed in a mucky puddle. Just then, a finger grazed her face.

Who is it?

Laughter.

Who’s there?

Another hand rubbed against her other cheek. More laughter. Then more hands touched her. First on her shoulder. Then her back. Then lower. Across her waist and still grasping.

She cried out, but it was dark. She couldn’t see who was grabbing at her from all sides, and she shrunk against their reach.

She tried to move her feet but couldn’t lift them out of the muck. The harder she tried, the more stuck she became, until the mud just clung to the bottoms of her feet like glue. It caked all around them, acting like a pair of oversize shoes while she grunted and squirmed, trying to fight her way out of the muddy puddle.

All of her surroundings were blanketed in darkness.

Mama! Daddy! She tried to scream, tried to call their names out loud and clear. But all she could manage was a croaking whisper.

The laughter filled her ears while the cold from the muck crept up her legs. She wanted to shriek. To run away. But she remained stuck as ever.

Lar-i-i-i-s-s-a-a-a-a-ah. Lar-i-i-i-s-s-a-a-a-a-ah.

There were more voices now. More hands grasping at the little girl. More laughter, too. They all overlapped and mocked her while she struggled against the darkness. Against the cold. Against the faceless assailants who all seemed to know something she didn’t...

That was the third time in two weeks I’d had this same dream, ever since I’d gotten the promotion at work. I was sure it was just the added stress of all the responsibility mixed in with a little fear of failure, but the haunting feeling stayed at the forefront of my mind as I settled back down and tried to go back to sleep.

It was the most vivid of my dreams so far. The others all had the same creepy hands grabbing at me, but I was guessing that was a metaphor for something. I’ve never been much of one for dream interpretation.

The sheets were twisted up into knots and lying on the floor, but that was the last of my worries, so I yanked the comforter back up over my face and flopped on my side. I settled down a little uneasily and tried not to think of muddy woods or bright campfires or boys calling my name in the dark.

When I did wake up, I was still tired. And as a bonus, I was already late for work. Having heard a knock at the door as I was trying to get ready, I shouted at whoever it was to go away. I didn’t need any more distractions. But the knock came again. And again. And again, until I threw the door open.

What the hell is it?

It wasn’t like me to be so rude, but I felt like I had given him fair warning that I wasn’t in the mood for company and plenty of time to get lost.

I opened the door in a huff. My hair was thrown across my face, but I could still see well enough to know that the man standing before me was no ordinary delivery boy. He was a messenger all right, but not the kind with a bike helmet and a messenger bag.

No, this man was a shifter. Maybe not a pureblood, but a panther, nonetheless. And something inside me went soft and warm the moment I realized it.

How long had it been since I’d seen another of my own kind?

My heart rate spiked, and I could feel my temperature rising. Something I was barely conscious of smelled incredibly good, drawing me closer to him for no reason at all.

I backed up and took a good look at him. No, he wasn’t a pureblood. But then he didn’t have to be. He had all of the traits they were known for: a lithe, agile, fit body; and a keen, intelligent look about his face. His eyes were dark, like his hair. Many purebloods had dark features like that. I found it incredibly sexy.

I was just beginning to wonder how many hearts this guy had broken when he opened his mouth to speak.

Your Aunt Layla has asked that you join us for the pilgrimage, Larissa Proudly.

Huh, now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.

"It is your name, is it not?"

Well, he was stiff enough to be a pureblood anyway.

Was, mm-hm. Now it’s just Proud. My parents changed it.

I see.

He tried to act casual as I stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind me.

Is there anything else?

The messenger eyed the open collar of my blouse and cleared his throat. His black t-shirt strained against his taught pecs, and I had a passing fantasy involving him and a waterfall that I didn’t want to end. The pull of my inner panther was strong. He brought it out in me.

My waterfall daydream was inexplicably interrupted, though, by a fuzzy memory of long afternoons spent running through a lush, green landscape, the laughter of children in my ears.

Uh, yes, your aunt Layla has a proposal to discuss with you. It involves your cousin, Asha.

Asha? What proposal?

I’m afraid that’s all I know. At that, he grew even stiffer and cleared his throat. She’s arranged for you to join Hayden Vance’s party. We’ll be leaving an hour after dusk.

The stranger handed me a card with a name and address.

Hayden Vance? Surely not. The Vance clan was powerful. Not to mention, one of the richest families in the Western Hemisphere.

But tonight was way too soon, as far as I was concerned...

Does it have to be tonight?

Looking up from the card, I realized that the stranger was already walking away. His firm shoulders and toned hips accentuated his intimidating gait, and I noticed he had a confident swagger about him that made me feel a little faint. Humans didn’t have this effect on me, but panthers were another story altogether…

It had been a long time since I’d been around another shifter.

Too long.

I fanned myself with one hand as I stepped back into my small apartment. I thought about the last time I had seen the Valley. My family had left there when I was just a child. We had no way to get back.

My parents worked hard in the human world, where my father studied botany and natural medicine. We weren’t purebloods, and as far as I know, none of my family could shift. So it wasn’t much of a sacrifice—living apart from the others.

I grew up an ordinary only child in the suburbs who had everything she needed. That’s why I’d decided to spend my life giving back and helping those who didn’t have it so easy.

The staff at the children’s charity I now ran was not going to be happy to hear that I would be leaving tonight for a few days. But the fact that my aunt needed me meant that I had no choice.

Panther families hang together. I had to go.

Besides, I thought, it might be nice to visit the Valley of Mists again after so many years away.

Hayden Vance was a millionaire playboy and the son of a wealthy pureblood my parents used to know. I didn’t really know him, especially since he was older than me. Back when I lived in the Valley, he had brothers aplenty and was usually off with the other purebloods getting into some kind of trouble. Purebloods always seemed to find it just as easy to get out of trouble as it was to get into it, but that was never the case with the rest of us, who had to face the consequences of our actions and own up to our mistakes.

Most of the panther shifters had long since left the Valley, though. Many, like my family, never returned. Especially non-purebloods. Others went home on the annual pilgrimage to pay homage to the family elders and reunite with loved ones each year in the fall. But mostly, it was just the purebloods that made the pilgrimage. Their families were made stronger by the larger glance that represented them, and this time of year gave them the opportunity to strengthen those alliances.

I hadn’t been back since I was barely a teenager. And my cousin was just a little kid...

I broke the news to my staff first thing in the morning. I knew it would take all day to redistribute the work I was doing and get everyone up to speed on where I was with each task. It was an unwelcome hiccup in our schedule, but nobody protested too much when they saw how preoccupied I was, wondering why my aunt would summon me back to that place after all this time…

Sometimes it gave me cold chills to think about it. I wasn’t sure if it was something about the Valley of Mists or just the thought that my aunt had sent for me that made me feel uneasy. It wasn’t the kind of thing that normally happened. And a proposal involving my teenage cousin was more than a bit unsettling. I only hoped it wasn’t what I feared.

An age-old panther custom saw many children in the Valley of Mists being mated by agreement between their families, even at a very early age. They would leave their homes at the end of the pilgrimage, and their new families would provide for them until they were old enough to consummate their union. The arrangement seemed to work for everyone. At least it helped keep the peace between families and clans. I didn’t want to imagine what it would have been like for me if my parents had had to do anything like that.

Luckily, we were more fortunate than some.

Perhaps the same could not be said for Asha, whose stick-straight white-blonde hair I had admired ever since she was born. Mine was thick and dark, with none of the striking highlights and lowlights that could make such a head of hair luxurious. Where my eyes were muddy brown, hers were blue and full of light. At least I looked forward to seeing her again. Other than that, this trip didn’t make much sense to me. But I would go because I was summoned.

I arrived at the Vance estate feeling more than a little bit nervous. Even though my work sometimes took me to places as impressive and lavish as this, it was usually to court big donors or attend the events of the rich and famous, many of whom would donate big sums to our charity—especially if their million-dollar friends were around. Sometimes, I could get a whole table full of ladies to write out checks for five thousand apiece just because no one wanted to seem cheap. I’m sure they just did it so I’d go away, but at least I always went away with a smile. And a fistful of donations.

If I hadn’t gotten so good at fundraising, I probably wouldn’t have gotten the promotion. And big donors were my specialty.

Hayden Vance wasn’t like those big donors, though. Unlike the ladies who felt it was their duty to give back, he had no sense of how lucky he was. And he always seemed to call attention to that fact. From what little I remembered of him from the days before we left the Valley, he was about as serious as a belly ring and liked to play pranks a lot. He was the epitome of a privileged pureblood, and I armed myself with my best fundraising smile before lifting the heavy, iron knocker.

His butler answered the door.

Of course. People like Hayden Vance didn’t answer their own front door.

In fact, he didn’t make an appearance at all until a dozen of us, all with differing amounts of shifter blood, had assembled in the large hall on the main floor of his family home. A room I assumed was frequently filled with hundreds of party guests—the wealthy, privileged, pureblood elites who all shared in the grandeur and theater that is clan politics.

While I was taking in the beauty of the design, Hayden slipped in behind some of the guests and cleared his throat.

Hey, folks. I guess we’re going to get going here soon. I don’t know. I just do what they tell me. He winked at us and indicated the butler, who grunted disapprovingly and fussed with his tie.

His words were submissive, but the way he held himself said something else entirely. He was having a bit of fun with his staff. Or maybe at their expense. It was just the kind of thing I’d have expected from someone like him. I might have rolled my eyes. Or maybe there was some other reason he singled me out.

Until then, everyone feel free to get a drink at the bar—except this young lady. She’s with me.

A light chuckle bubbled up from the group. Hayden took a few steps toward me, his hand outstretched as if he cradled in his palm an entire kingdom. His stance relaxed. An easy smile on his face.

Dear God, he was so sexy!

He had green eyes and dark hair with thick, dark eyebrows that exaggerated his every expression.

What can I get you, my lovely lady?

Larissa.

I’m sorry; I don’t think we have any of those. How about a martini?

No, Larissa—it’s my name. I suppressed a laugh. I was sure he’d used that line a thousand times before, but it still caught me by surprise. I bit my lip, hopelessly trying to hide a smile.

His white button-down shirt was open far enough in the front to offer a glimpse of his well-toned chest and rock-hard abs.

There was just something about a pureblood.

I felt my face grow flush, so I asked for a