Mating Rituals (MMF)

Impulse 4

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 51,244
5 Ratings (4.4)

[Siren Ménage Everlasting: Erotic Paranormal Ménage a Trois Romance, M/M/F, with M/M, shape-shifters, consensual BDSM, spanking, flogging, whipping, HEA]

Meteorologist Aisha Carlton has hit the wall with her career. She chances upon Impulse, Florida, where the weird weather patterns have defeated explanation by hundreds of scientists before her. If she can only come up with an explanation, it will reinvigorate her career.

Kane Blair and Tyrone Darwin, alpha leopards, recognize Aisha as their destined human mate. But Tyrone’s personal life is a mess. His former shifter-mate is trying to keep his kids from him and Kane has just woken up in a hotel room with a strange woman in his bed. If they had full-on sex he’s blown his chances of mating with anyone else.

How can he find out what really happened? How can Tyrone persuade his ex to send their kids back to the safety of Impulse, and how can the two leopards persuade Aisha to stay in Impulse, forget her career, and embrace life as the mate of shifters?

A Siren Erotic Romance


Zara Chase is a Siren-exclusive author.

Mating Rituals (MMF)
5 Ratings (4.4)

Mating Rituals (MMF)

Impulse 4

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 51,244
5 Ratings (4.4)
In Wish List
Available formats
Cover Art by Les Byerley
This was the first book in this series that I have read and it was easy enough to understand the situation. I did enjoy this story a lot.



Aisha tried to speak, but no words came out. She gulped, attempting to clear the blockage in her throat, and tried again. Still no dice. What the hell was wrong with her? Okay, so these two were easy on the eye, but with Rick’s betrayal still fresh in her mind she was off men, period.

The two guys treated her to a thorough once-over and seemed to like what they saw. Good, that would make them easier to manipulate. She’d vowed never to trade on her femininity to get ahead, but she’d wised up over the last few days. Her short and not-so-illustrious career in television had taught her that it was best to run with what she had. Aisha might not be a stunner, but her appearance tended to get her noticed, if only because of her unusual coloring, and she’d use whatever it took to get what she needed.

“I’m Kane Blair,” one of the guys said, extending a hand. “Something we can do for you?”

Several things sprang to Aisha’s mind, causing her cheeks to warm and her body to spring to life. What was it with her today? She absolutely did not want to go there and blamed this man Kane for sending her thoughts on a sensual detour. He was a hunk of the first order and he damned well knew it. Well, she wasn’t about to be intimidated. He’d given her the once-over, so she brazenly returned the favor.

Kane was a good six foot, with smoky-gray hair and opaque green eyes that held a hint of amusement as he appraised her, clearly waiting for her to stop gawping like a love-struck teenager and find her voice. Easier said than done. It was crazy, but she felt an instant connection to these two guys, like she’d known them all her life. She told herself severely not to be so damned fanciful and concentrate on her objective, which was to obtain unfettered access to all of Impulse.

She kept her concentration on Kane, since dealing with the pair of them simultaneously was beyond her limited capabilities right now. They made her feel out of control, and, since the debacle with Rick, hadn’t she vowed never to cede control to another person ever again? She dropped her eyes from Kane’s amused gaze, looking for a distraction. Her eyes alighted on the denim of his worn jeans. It looked soft and faded around the impressive bulge in the area of his crotch, catching Aisha’s attention in spite of herself and making it hard for her to look away. She dragged her gaze higher, which didn’t help much. His tank top displayed a lean, hard chest with a dusting of the same smoky-gray hair that cried out to have a woman’s fingers running through it.

Her fingers.

The man himself moved with a lithe elegance and graceful coordination that she found compelling. But that was nothing to the reaction she felt all the way to her pussy when she took his outstretched hand and his long fingers closed around her palm.

“I’m Aisha Carlton,” she said, her voice sounding gravelly and most unlike her own. “Thanks for seeing me.”

“Our pleasure,” said the other man, extending his own hand. “We’ve waited a long time to meet you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, ignore me. It’s been a long day. Tyrone Darwin,” he said, offering her a sexy smile that inflicted further damage on her already-moist pussy. “Delighted to meet you.”


Tyrone was the same height and muscular build as Kane. His long, thick hair was all black and he had the most amazing yellow-gold eyes that reflected intelligence and frank interest in her as they shook hands.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Aisha?” he asked.

“Well, I’ve come down from New York. I work for Cordite News and Weather.”

“Ah, you’re another meteorologist,” Kane said.

“Yes, I suppose you get a lot of those down here.”

“A fair few.”

“I was told this information center was the best place to come for permission if I want to do some research of my own into your rather unique weather patterns.”

Tyrone shrugged broad shoulders. “You don’t need a license or anything like that from the city. Feel free to delve wherever you like. Perhaps you’ll succeed where hundreds of others have failed.”

Aisha bridled, furious that he wasn’t taking her seriously. “Don’t patronize me.”

“Hey, I wasn’t. We’d like to know what’s going on here just as much as you would.”

“Sorry.” She spread her hands in a placating gesture. “My temper often gets the better of me. I blame that on being a redhead. It’s a genetic fault, but I’m working on controlling it.”

“Just so long as you don’t color your hair,” Tyrone said, chuckling. “We like it just the way it is.”

“You what?”

“When did you arrive?” Kane asked.

“Ten minutes ago,” Aisha replied, ignoring the odd comment about her hair. “I flew down from New York and hired a car at the airport.”

“Where are you staying?”

“I haven’t found anywhere yet. I thought I should come here first in case you close early, just to find out what permissions I need.”

“Do you have a crew here with you?” Kane asked. “You said you work for a television station, right?”

She hesitated, wondering how much to admit. “No, right now I’m doing this as a project on my own time.”

The two guys faced one another but didn’t speak, and Aisha could have sworn they were somehow communicating without using words. She shook her head. She must be more tired than she’d realized and her imagination was playing tricks on her.

“I see.” Kane looked at her in a way that made her wonder if he understood her situation better than he was letting on. No, that was impossible. “How have you found the air so far?”

“I don’t know how you guys can breathe it,” she said with feeling. “I only walked a hundred yards from my car to your door, but I felt like someone had clamped a vise around my lungs by the time I got inside.”

Tyrone laughed. “You’ll get used to it, but I gotta tell you, working outside until you do is gonna be a challenge.”

She summoned up her most enticing smile. “I was hoping you might be able to give me some help with that.”




“Hmm,” she said when Tyrone moved forward with feline stealth and breathed over one of her nipples. He noticed that it hardened immediately and that the areola pebbled a deep, enticing pink. One of her hands drifted to that breast and tweaked the nipple.

“But you don’t like your breasts. No one would want to play with that nipple.”

Her hand fell away immediately, but she moaned in protest.

“Why don’t you like your breasts?”

“Too big.”

“But you liked what the butterfly did to your nipple.”


“He won’t come back if you don’t like your breasts. Butterflies don’t enjoy conflict.”

“But I want to feel—”

“Think about your breasts, Aisha. Think about the way they look beneath a blouse. Think about how men look at them. Think about how they’d look on Angie.”


Oh is right. Angie’s tits are plastic. A man can always tell, just by looking.”

Aisha smiled. “Can they?”

“No man wants to play with a plastic toy when he can have firm, supple flesh to fill his hands.”


“No. Trust me on this. The butterfly’s hovering over your nipple again.” Tyrone expelled another cool breath over her tit. “Can you feel the beat of his wings?”


“Do you want him to land?”

She let out a needy little moan. “Yes! Please, yes!”

“What do you think of your tits now?”

“They’re real. They’re mine. I…I love them.”

Her hand wandered to her solid nipple and Tyrone could see she was pinching it really hard. God, but she was a natural candidate for nipple clamps!

“You’re really turned on,” Tyrone said, wondering if he was speaking for her or himself. “Liquid’s seeping from your pussy. Perhaps the butterfly will land on your clit. It’s throbbing and swollen and badly needs to be touched.”

“How did you know?” she asked in a faraway voice.

“The butterfly’s hovering, trying to decide. It’s fluttering up your legs, trying to figure out if you’re worthy.”

The hand not touching her tit came to rest on her calf. It ran up and down it, as though she’d never touched her own leg before. She straightened that leg, lifted it experimentally in the air, and ran her hand all the way to her pussy and back.

“I want the butterfly to land on my cunt,” she said in a hoarse voice.

“We haven’t gotten past your legs yet, babe. Why don’t you like them?”

“They’re not as long as Angie’s.”

“You have real hang-ups over Angie, and that’s plain dumb. She’s tall but way too skinny. Her legs have no shape, not like yours do.”

A somnolent smile lit up her face. “That’s true, I guess.”

“The butterfly likes it that you’re relaxing. It’s come in to land on your pussy, darlin’. Are you ready for it?”

“Hell yes!”

“Its touch is so gentle you can barely feel it.”

Her hand moved from her thigh to her clit and she moaned.

“The butterfly’s flapping its wings, agitating your scorching pussy.”

Her fingers probed and a gurgle—a cross between a pant and a sigh—erupted in her throat.

“Where do you feel your energy’s the strongest?” Tyrone asked.

“My whole body’s buzzing. I feel like I could actually fly right now.”

“That’s good. Now squeeze your pelvic muscles for me, sweetheart. Hold all that energy inside you. That’s a good girl. The butterfly’s landed right on your clit. Do you feel its gentle touch?”


“Tell me what it’s like.”

“It’s like I’m on fire.” Her breathing became more rapid as the pressure of her fingers increased. “It feels as though I’m on the outside watching all this happening to someone else.”

“What does that other person look like?”

“Sexy, wanton, unafraid to go after what she wants. All the things I’m not.”

“But she is you, darlin’. Don’t you recognize those freckles across your own nose?”

“No, I…yes…hell, I don’t know! Help me, please!”

She was on the point of orgasm, but Tyrone wasn’t ready to let her come yet.

“The butterfly’s taken off and left you.”

“No!” She groaned long and loud. “Please, Tyrone, make it come back. I need the butterfly. I need the heat, the tingling. I need—”

“Hmm, I know you do. But not quite yet.”

She was alternately panting and begging, tears of frustration seeping from the corners of her closed eyes. Goose bumps had appeared on her dewy skin and she was trembling all over. Never before had Tyrone tried edging with a more responsive student. But they’d barely scratched the surface of her sensuality and Tyrone needed to teach her a little bit more about herself before he let her come.

“The butterfly’s squeezed beneath your cunt. It’s touching your perineum.” Her fingers slid beneath her butt. “That soft, spongy area between your anus and cunt is part of the clit network, did you know that?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Ah, not many people do. That’s why it gets neglected, but it’s actually a highly erogenous zone.” She squealed as her fingers explored. “The butterfly knows that even if you don’t.”

Tyrone wanted to take his own clothes off and join in the fun. Problem was, she was so tempting that he didn’t trust himself not to fuck her senseless and prove to her with deeds rather than words just how appealing she actually was. He contented himself with touching his rigid shaft through the fabric of his shorts while he continued to torment Aisha. Kane would just have to fuck him later and get rid of the abiding itch he’d been fighting against ever since he’d started this game with Aisha.

“I need…please, I want—”

“Only beautiful people get what they want.” Tyrone smiled at the ease with which he could sway her. “Are you beautiful, Aisha?”


“Do you love your body?”

“Yes, I love everything about me.”

“That pleases the butterfly. He’s back on your cunt. Slip some fingers inside yourself, darlin’. The butterfly’s landed hard on your clit, but he needs some help.”


Her fingers worked frantically. Her head rotated from side to side, and her hair fell all over the place, obscuring Tyrone’s view of her features as he allowed her to get closer to orgasm. He heard Kane come in behind him but didn’t turn around.

“Our mate has self-esteem issues,” he pheromoned.


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