Dark Tides: The Shark's Double Secret, #3

By Cleo Peitsche

Will she still love him, or will she hate and fear him as a monster?

 

Tara is newly mated to Spencer, a handsome and powerful shark shifter. Despite being hunted, her life with Spencer aboard a luxury yacht is happy. Until bad luck delivers them both into Darius's scheming hands.

 

And the price Darius demands for their freedom is even darker and more twisted than anyone imagined.

 

Spencer knows he'll do whatever it takes to ensure Tara's survival. She's his bonded mate. He can't live without her.

 

But once they're free, will Tara still love him, or will she hate and fear him as a monster?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pouch Productions
• Release date: Jan 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215300107

Cleo Peitsche

If Cleo isn't writing (or reading!) erotica, she's probably sitting on her balcony, watching the wind blow through the trees. She loves snowstorms, piña coladas, horses, and pasta primavera. If she won the lottery, she would hire an assistant to take care of the technical side of e-publishing so that she could write all day.Some random facts about Cleo:1. Thinks life's too short to forgo HEAs and HFNs.2. Sprained an ankle joining the mile-high club. (Never again!)3. Favorite writers include Cormac Mccarthy, Junot Diaz and Rachel Caine.4. Gets weak-kneed for bookish guys who know how to fix things with their hands. *swoons*

Book preview

1

Tara leaned against the yacht’s hot metal railing, trying to catch an afternoon breeze. The weather was stifling, even in the middle of the Caribbean Sea. It didn’t help that the yacht wasn’t moving.

Beads of sweat trickled between her breasts, and she plucked at the front of her butterfly-print sundress, unsticking it from her skin, trying to get some air circulating. Her curly-wavy blonde hair was damp.

Spencer’s looking for you, Tara.

She glanced back, but Dunphy was already moving away.

Had there been a note of warning in his voice? She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. In any event, he was gone now.

Spencer must know what I did.

Tara considered her options. There weren’t many places to hide. Precious Little had multiple levels and many rooms, but it was still just a yacht.

Plus, Spencer was a shark shifter, and all shifters had especially keen senses. There was no place he couldn’t find her.

She squinted against the jagged light reflecting off the waves. There was only one option. Heart thumping against her ribs, she kicked off her sandals and wriggled out of her dress. It fought her every inch.

There you are.

Tara spun to see Spencer climbing up from the lower deck, a tablet in his right hand. His dark hair was mussed and his linen shirt halfway unbuttoned, revealing bronze skin over thick muscles. He was hotter than the sun currently scorching the back of Tara’s neck.

He wasn’t wearing shoes. Spencer didn’t walk around barefoot. Or with his shirt unbuttoned.

He definitely knows.

Tara whirled and scrambled atop the railing, balancing on the balls of her feet. Too bad for the rest of her clothes.

What… Don’t—

That was all she heard before she jumped. She dropped into the water, the sudden cold almost making her gasp with shock. Briny water stung her eyes and the inside of her nose, and sound went muffled. With several strong kicks, Tara returned to the surface, then pushed at the water until she was facing the yacht.

Spencer stood at the railing, looking down. He shook his head. Slow and deliberate.

Oh, hey, Tara said, trying to sound casual.

Bad girl. His deep voice seemed to make the water itself vibrate. He shook his head again, tapped his palm on the yacht’s railing, and to Tara’s surprise, he walked away.

And why wouldn’t he? She couldn’t stay in the ocean forever.

Tara shivered as she treaded water, imagining what he’d do to her when she climbed back onto the yacht. Maybe she’d stay where she was until Dunphy said it was time to motor away.

At least the heat’s bearable now.

She floated onto her back and let the waves rock her, a grin spreading across her face.

Despite the fact that she was in exile, that dangerous shifters were hunting her and the shifters she loved, Tara didn’t want to be anywhere else. All because of Spencer.

He was everything she wanted in a partner. More than she’d ever dared hope for. He was kind and attentive but also the most driven man she’d ever met. Yet there was nothing self-serving about his ambition. He’d engineered several lifesaving treatments and owned numerous successful biotech startups.

He was a shark. And her mate.

Tara was mated to a shark shifter. Not an easy process for a human. Spencer had been as gentle as possible, and she’d survived.

When she met Spencer, she’d thought she was flirting with a sexy rich guy with smoldering eyes and a mischievous smile. All she’d wanted was a no-strings-attached fling to get over her lying, cheating, soon-to-be ex.

She’d gotten over the jerk. By falling hard for Spencer.

Then she’d learned about the existence of shifters. The shark world was a dark and dangerous place, full of secrets and scheming predators.

Tara raised her head to check that the waves hadn’t carried her too far from Precious Little. Through the sun’s glare, she could make out the outline of Dunphy at the helm. And a second figure—it had to be Spencer. The only other person aboard the yacht was a grumpy orca shifter who kept to herself.

That orca was the source of so much tension. She was also the reason for Tara’s impromptu swim.

The yacht’s engine woke with a gentle hum. Precious Little was the pinnacle of modern engineering, fast and efficient.

Seaweed wrapped around Tara’s calf and snagged on her toe. Floating on her back again, she tried to kick it off with her other foot. For her effort, she got the reedy, slimy stuff wedged between two of her toes. Gross. She contracted her stomach, bringing herself upright so she could reach her foot—

A triangular fin was cutting a slow line through the water toward her. Not direct. Moving at a lazy angle.

Tara stared, terrified for a long second, then her gaze darted desperately to the yacht.

Dunphy and Spencer were still conferring in the cockpit. Which means I’m in the water with a strange shark. A big one, too. Either a hungry animal or an enemy shifter.

Spencer! she called, a wobble in her voice. Dunphy!

They can’t hear me over the engine.

She inhaled and screamed their names at the top of her lungs.

Both shifters whipped around. Dunphy tilted his head in confusion, but Spencer was already out on the deck. He glanced sharply left and right, then leaned over the railing. What’s wrong!

She couldn’t believe he didn’t see the shark, and she pointed frantically.

It hadn’t moved much closer, and Tara worried that meant it was waiting for the right moment to rush at her.

Dunphy had caught up and stood at Spencer’s shoulder. He tilted his head slightly. Then he laughed, his teeth dazzling white in the sun. He said something to Spencer, who also tilted his head.

Tara’s heart stuttered in her chest, and she looked at that dreadful fin again.

It wasn’t a fin at all. In fact, it was manmade. Cursing the bright sun, she squinted at the object and noticed it was tethered to the yacht. And there were several of them. She realized what they were.

Despite the coldness of the water, a hot rush of embarrassment coursed through her. She’d seen the apparatus used for collecting water samples many times, but never from this angle.

False alarm, she called out, and waved.

Tara, please, Spencer said, pointing aft. Tara sighed and began to breaststroke toward the swim platform, knowing it would be lowered by the time she got there. Which it was. Spencer, arms crossed over his chest, was waiting for her.

As she climbed out, he stepped forward, snatching a fluffy towel from the stack in the wire basket. The breeze Tara had been desperate for earlier showed up, making her shiver. Spencer wrapped her tightly and pulled her close.

Now, what was all that? he murmured into her ear. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you jumped into the ocean to avoid me.

Good thing you do know better.

Hm. The rumble of Spencer’s voice made her tingle all over. Let’s have a chat in the lounge.

He turned away, and when he faced her again, he was holding out her hastily shed sundress. Tara knew she was in trouble then; Spencer never wanted her to put clothes on.

What if I jump into my little submarine and slip away? It was in a special holder on the other side of the yacht.

But she knew what would happen. Spencer would catch her, easily.

She dropped the towel, peeled off her soaked undergarments, and tried to pull the dress over her head. The fabric stuck on her wet arms, got twisted and bunched. She was aware of Spencer’s gaze on her.

She swallowed around the sudden lump of concrete in her throat. There was no fooling a shifter; her emotional state was obvious to him.

Finally tugging the dress into place, she looked up and said, I need to use the bathroom first.

I’ll walk with you.

Tara raised an eyebrow. Pretty sure I can handle it myself.

Spencer didn’t volley back a joke, didn’t even smile. Must’ve been a rough morning. She didn’t think this was all her doing. His fingers skimmed the small of her back. Then he applied gentle pressure. He wasn’t guiding her to their bedroom—the master stateroom, as he and Dunphy referred to it—but her body didn’t seem to know the difference.

She wanted to turn into his embrace, wrap her arms around his neck.

Wrap her legs around his waist. Or better yet, her lips around his—

That’s very distracting, Spencer said in a low growl.

Sorry.

Don’t be.

Tara was blushing, though. It was still a struggle, dealing with the realities of being surrounded by shifters. Spencer had been sick through much of the time when they’d grown close, his senses dulled to almost human levels.

Now he was healthy again. Normal for him, but for Tara it was like the man she’d fallen in love with had turned into a superhero overnight. He perceived too much, knew too much.

When she was aroused, Spencer knew. All the shifters could sense the physiological changes.

The loss of privacy took some getting used to.

Spencer caught Tara’s hip and reeled her against his body. His teeth rasped from under her ear to the top of her collarbone. I’d planned to go for a swim, but maybe I’ll skip it.

Her eyes almost fluttered closed before she got a grip on herself.

You need to shift. But she couldn’t bring herself to push him away.

Spencer changed course, now guiding her toward the bedroom.

Tara heard a splash. Not loud, but her breath quickened as she looked over her shoulder.

That’s Dunphy, Spencer said, maneuvering her through the door. And you’ll likely hear Zelinda jumping in soon enough, because we’ll be moving on soon. Spencer’s pupils, always large, had dilated, reducing the blue of his irises to thin circles. His hands drifted down the front of Tara’s sundress.

He paused. The room was silent apart from the sound of their breathing.

Spencer yanked the dress down her shoulders, trapping Tara’s arms against her body. His lips grazed hers, but then he moved back, denying her what she craved. His fingers traced a line of heat down her spine.

So, he said, do you still need to use the—

Yes.

Might as well take your clothes off out here.

Rather than pull her dress up and over her head, she bounced and wriggled to help it fall down her body. Spencer watched, distracted from his earlier mission.

She smiled at his groan as she closed the bathroom door.

When she appeared again just a few minutes later, Spencer was gone. Tara knew he’d be back—there was that chat to take care of. And if she was lucky, some sex.

She picked up her laptop. It hadn’t been charged since yesterday and the battery was in the red. She wasn’t sure where she’d left the charger. In the lounge area, probably.

She opened her email, not expecting to find anything new. Internet reception was spotty and intermittent.

But there was an email from the assistant Tara had hired a week ago. She’d never met Enid, but the woman was an organizational genius. And a dolphin shifter. Hiring a shifter had been Spencer’s idea.

The subject line of the email made Tara’s breath catch.

Bad news :-(

Tara tapped the message with a shaking finger. Another young orca in a coma after exposure to Lerna-H last night. Fourteen years old. I’ll have the file ready by tonight but wanted to let you know.

Shaking her head, Tara started to compose a note of acknowledgement. Being at sea and keeping their communications limited meant it was necessary to let people know when she received their messages. She’d hardly begun when the laptop’s screen turned dark. Out of juice.

Instead of getting up and looking for the charger, Tara lay back on the bed, her arm over her eyes. It wasn’t even one o’clock yet, but the entire day had gone to pieces. How the hell was she going to break the news to Spencer?

She regretted being the coordination person. I’m always giving him bad news. Wouldn’t blame him if he started hating the sight of me.

The door banged open. Spencer didn’t seem to notice that Tara was still naked. Or that she was even there.

I spent five hours yesterday delineating new computerized models. And twenty minutes today proved they’re not working. It wasn’t clear if he was talking to her or to himself. His eyes were glued to the tablet he carried.

Tara bolted upright, her heart hammering against her ribs. Oh, no. You’re not going to start injecting yourself again.

Spencer didn’t answer.

Shifters had incredible regenerative abilities, and shark shifters most of all. Spencer had used that to his advantage in the course of his research… and had nearly died. Tara hadn’t made him swear never to experiment on himself again. Partially because she wasn’t that kind of person, and partially because really, he should know better.

But also because she knew he wouldn’t promise. He couldn’t.

He’d been driven before, but now shifters were dying again from Lerna-H, the mutated toxin in the water. Spencer had turned into a man obsessed.

At that moment, Tara decided not to relay the news about the young orca. It wasn’t the first one and probably wouldn’t be the last. Telling Spencer wouldn’t do anything except apply more pressure that he didn’t need.

I haven’t been injecting myself. He began digging through the bottom drawer of the built-in dresser.

Yet, Tara silently supplied for him. I don’t want to lose you. She needed him safe more than anything. Because she loved him. He knew all this, but Tara didn’t believe it would be enough.

We’ve got a supply of shifter blood for transfusions, not to mention two other shifters on board. Spencer brought out the oversized e-ink tablet that he preferred when reading research. This wouldn’t be like the last time, Tara.

Promise it will be a last resort, she blurted.

Spencer sat on the bed and held out his hand. When her fingers touched his, he pulled her sideways onto his lap. His supple linen pants and shirt were a sensual caress against her bare skin, but underneath that soft fabric, he was pure muscle, hard as steel.

I have everything to live for. He cradled her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. Time slowed. Because I have you. The protective gesture was followed by a hungry kiss that was as much solace as sexual.

Tara’s body responded instantaneously.

So did Spencer’s. She swung her leg across his lap and settled her weight onto him. It was impossible to ignore the feeling of two hard shafts beneath his clothing.

She grinned. When she first met Spencer, she hadn’t known shifters existed. He’d kept his second cock hidden.

Male shark shifters… came equipped with a little extra.

Or rather, a lot extra.

Tara tried to stay focused.

What about the batch that protected my blood? she asked, thinking about the young orca in a coma. Maybe you could follow that, see if it could apply to mammalian shifters?

Of course I’ve been chasing down that lead, but it’s all dead ends so far. What works on humans doesn’t work on shifters, he said. You know that.

Not even with the carrier you developed?

Spencer leaned back, bracing his arms behind him so that he was propped up on the bed. I understand how difficult this is for you. He sighed. Forget about that for a moment.

Here it comes. I’m so sorry, Spencer. I wasn’t trying to make trouble.

He frowned slightly, and Tara wondered if maybe he didn’t know what she’d done.

Make trouble?

Well, she couldn’t lie to him. She wet her lips. So… I tried to talk to Zelinda. Get her to open up.

Zelinda was the fourth person aboard Precious Little. She was an orca shifter, there at her own insistence. Her pod had killed a member of Dunphy’s security team. To say that things between Dunphy and Zelinda were tense was an understatement.

What did you say? Spencer asked when Tara failed to volunteer more.

Nothing.

He sighed.

"It started off polite. I mean, she’s my bodyguard. I wouldn’t try to antagonize her." At lunch, she’d taken her coffee to where Zelinda was sitting alone. When Zelinda didn’t get up and leave, Tara had felt encouraged, and she’d started chatting about the weather.

To which Zelinda had snapped, Are all humans this boring? And Tara had replied with, Right now it’s two-to-one against letting Dunphy kill you. Keep being an asshole, Zelinda, because you need more enemies.

Not her finest moment.

But… Spencer prodded.

But she got annoyed and said she was going to convince you to keep me locked up—for my own safety.

An empty threat. Spencer managed to look weary and amused at the same time.

Tara’s relief only lasted a moment. Then why were you looking for me?

Spencer seemed to deflate. There’s another orca in a coma. Her name is Octavia Cresano, but everyone calls her Tevy. She’s only fourteen. I was glad you jumped overboard. You don’t need to hear about these kinds of things.

If not for the seriousness of the situation, Tara would have laughed at the two of them, each trying to spare the other this latest horrible news. But how had he found out so quickly?

Do you know her?

Spencer nodded. I was undressing, about to go for a swim, and heard a notification on my phone. Almost wish I hadn’t checked. Tevy’s parents are friends with my mother. Good people. I spent a lot of time with them when I was a kid. Joe sent me a video message. He was sobbing so hard I could barely understand what he was saying. He was begging, Tara. This man I’d always seen as, I don’t know, an uncle. Begging me to help his daughter.

Oh, hell. She tipped forward and wrapped her arms around Spencer’s neck. She felt him relax just a fraction, which was all she could hope for. Maybe my discovery would work on dolphins or orcas, she insisted. Since they have a different tolerance. And they’re mammals.

It’s not that simple.

Why not? Tell me.

The difference between an adolescent shifter and an adult is enormous. We change more as we mature than humans do. What if it helps an adult dolphin but has the opposite effect on a teenage orca? Spencer’s expression darkened. There has to be another way. I can’t let Tevy die. I won’t. Maybe there’s some medication that can be used with the carrier I developed. Maybe the solution is staring me right in the face.

You’re not a magician—

I need to swim and clear my mind. He stood, firmly setting Tara on her feet, out of arm’s reach. Her arm’s reach, anyway, which seemed to be the point.

In a flash, he was naked.

Good work, Tara thought, watching the masculine poetry of his muscles as he stalked out of the room. I narced on myself, no one got laid, and now he’s even more upset than before.

2

Tara reached for a dry towel, but then lost her nerve and hunted down her blue bikini.

Shifters might love walking around with all their bits hanging out, but she didn’t feel comfortable flashing everyone. Tara wasn’t shy, but she wasn’t an exhibitionist, either.

When she emerged into the relentless sunshine, she was surprised to find Spencer still on the yacht. She heard a splash then—Zelinda finally leaving.

Are you waiting for me? she asked.

Of course. He looked at her, puzzled. "I’m not mad at you, Tara. It’s a sucky situation."

Sucky, she repeated. You can do better than that.

My first impulse was to say regrettable. A regrettable situation. His smile was slight but genuine. Would you like to jump in or climb down?

Tara looked over the railing and into the water. Despite the ocean’s breathtaking shade of blue, the water itself was opaque.

At least one great white shark and one killer whale are swimming around out there. A thrill of excitement raised gooseflesh over her arms.

I’ll jump.

Spencer took the towel from her, strolled toward the back of the yacht, and tossed it over. Tara assumed it had landed on the swim platform. Either that or he’d thrown it into the ocean for absolutely no reason.

When he returned, she climbed onto the railing. This is a lot easier when I’m buzzed. Or fleeing you, she murmured, her leg muscles twitching and cramping as she struggled to keep her balance.

I thought you said you were sober that night.

The railing was hot under the soles of her feet. And on this section of the yacht, definitely not wide enough.

Grinning, she crouched and was about to dive into the water when a triangular fin zipped toward the yacht. That’s definitely not a sample collection bucket.

Tara couldn’t take her eyes off it. A primitive response to an approaching predator. She lost her balance and before she realized it, she was falling—

Strong arms wrapped around her, and then she was twisting in the air. They entered the water smoothly. And thank heaven for her lifeguard training and her ease around water, because instead of inhaling in surprise, she reflexively conserved her air.

It hardly mattered. Even in human form, Spencer could breathe underwater. Could breathe for her. That little trick had introduced all sorts of fun into their sex life when they were in a lake.

They hadn’t tried it in the ocean, though. Not yet.

They surfaced, and Spencer released her. Tara’s face was covered by her hair, and even though she knew it was a lost cause, she tried to flip her head, to fling the hair out of her eyes and nose and mouth. She spit out salty strands and scratched at her face, dragging the wet clumps away.

I don’t like being in the water with an orca, Dunphy growled.

Tara blinked, her eyes stinging from the salt. Dunphy, now in human form, bobbed some ten feet away, his brow deeply furrowed. Dunphy was co-partner, along with Koenraad, of Jagged Tooth Security. Their company was charged with keeping order on the beautiful Caribbean island of Tureygua. Despite Dunphy’s movie-star looks, he was more than a little scary when focused on work.

Zelinda’s nice, Tara said, even though it wasn’t exactly true. Setting aside their little exchange at lunch, the truth was that Zelinda had saved Tara’s life, risking her own life to do so.

Which made niceness irrelevant, surely.

That oversized penguin tried to shove me out of the water, Dunphy said, and a second later the orca breached less than twenty feet away. She rotated in the air and flopped back onto the water with an unnecessarily awkward slap, spraying everyone, causing waves, and Tara could swear she saw a satisfied smirk on the orca’s face before her large mass sank out of sight.

You two have been at each other’s throats since the moment we left, Tara said.

She killed one of us, Dunphy growled. He might’ve been responding to Tara’s comment, but he was looking at Spencer. Are we all going to pretend that didn’t happen?

Zelinda didn’t kill anyone, Spencer said. As you well know.

How do I know that? Because she said it? Dunphy vanished, sinking under the water with barely a ripple. It was unsettling.

A moment later, Dunphy rocketed out of the water, screaming in rage and surprise.

Tara’s eyes jerked toward him because of the horrible sound—how could she not—then jerked away even faster. But not before she witnessed Dunphy in all his naked glory, his deep-bronze skin glistening in the sunlight as he arced toward the yacht.

You ass! he roared. Tara looked at him again, another reflex.

Dunphy had landed on the yacht’s upper railing and now pivoted toward the water. Tara caught an eyeful and then some. Never mind that Dunphy was a smoke show. But she saw him as a brother, and as such, she didn’t really need the visual details of his huge testicles and two large cocks swinging about.

And damn, were they swinging.

She averted her gaze in time to see the orca approaching.

A moment later, Zelinda was in human form beside Tara. And she was definitely grinning.

What? she asked, rivulets of water streaming down from her short dark hair. The grumpy fish wanted to get out of the water. I merely gave him a helping nose.

Tara gawked. In the two weeks since they’d left Koenraad’s secret island, Zelinda had barely interacted with them. At mealtimes, she collected her food and went to eat on her own. When they swam, she held herself apart. Tara’s gentle attempts at conversation had fallen flat.

Maybe what I thought was a fight was really friendly banter?

Going for a swim now, Spencer said, and kissed the back of Tara’s shoulder, his lips brushing the mating scar she’d received the night he claimed her.

He looked up, toward Precious Little. Tara knew better than to follow his gaze.

Swim with me, Spencer called.

Dunphy mumbled something. Tara couldn’t tell if it was jumbled curses in English, or if he was speaking in Dutch or Tureyguan creole.

But she heard a slight splash, and when she glanced over at the yacht, Dunphy was gone. When she looked back, Spencer was also gone.

A triangular fin appeared. Tara’s heart kicked, and she tracked Spencer’s progress to a second triangular fin. Then both disappeared. Now there was no one but her and Zelinda.

You like sharks, huh?

Tara almost looked around, certain Zelinda was talking to someone else. She fought the urge to put distance between herself and the orca. I love Spencer. The shark thing… takes some adjustment. It also had its perks, but Tara didn’t know Zelinda well enough to divulge how much she appreciated the second cock.

They’re not even mammals.

Spencer’s definitely a mammal.

In human form. Zelinda wrinkled her nose.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a crush on Dunphy.

Zelinda’s playful expression disappeared, and she seemed to stare right through Tara with her unfathomable dark eyes. I’m not his type, and you can be sure he’s not mine.

Because he’s a shark?

For starters.

You’re prejudiced against sharks, Tara said. Dunphy is one of the best people I know.

That’s not saying much. You’re from New York. How old are you? Thirty-five?

Not even thirty. And you’re being rude.

Maybe. Zelinda laughed. You’re prudish. Who cares about little shark schlongs swinging around? Not me.

Tara was starting to regret having left the yacht.

You haven’t been with Spencer long, have you? Zelinda continued.

Why do you care?

I don’t. Just making conversation. Isn’t that what you were doing at lunch? Making conversation? Anyway, it’s obvious.

We met a year ago.

Zelinda’s eyebrows lifted, but Tara didn’t feel guilty for her little deception. Yes, they’d met over a year ago, but they’d only really gotten to know each other a few months ago.

What do you know about orcas? Zelinda asked.

Tara looked at her fingers. They weren’t wrinkling yet, so she figured she could endure