Trancing the Tiger (Chinese Zodiac Romance Series Book 1)

  Delve into a world steeped in tradition and superstition…

  After her parents become infected with the Red Death, Lucy Yeoh flees to Malaysia seeking answers. Everything in this closed-off section of the world is paradise—from the lush tropical climate to her sexy new neighbor, Sheng…who just might be delusional. He claims the Plague God unleashed the Red Death and only a circle of Chinese Zodiac spirit animals can cleanse the Earth. Even more, he insists she’s one of them: the Rabbit. Long furry ears and fluffy bunny tail included.

  He’ll show her how to fight to save the world…

  As the Chosen of the Tiger, the burden of restoring balance to the world has fallen onto Li Sheng’s shoulders. When he discovers that the ally he’s long awaited, the Dragon, is actually just the Rabbit, Sheng is quick to dismiss Lucy. If only she’d stay dismissed. Lucy’s Rabbit refuses to cooperate, undermining the authority of his Tiger at every turn…and seducing him to the limits of his darkest desires. He’s not supposed to want her. Not when he needs the spirit circle complete and she’s their weakest link.

  She’ll show him a love worth fighting the world to save…

  Sheng’s enemies draw closer, and not everyone wants Lucy alive. Together, they’ll have to navigate a treacherous world where a line between duty and their hearts has been drawn between them. They must either sacrifice one, or find a way to surrender to both.

  TRANCING THE TIGER

  A CHINESE ZODIAC ROMANCE

  RACHAEL SLATE

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 by Rachael Slate

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  First Edition February 2015

  Edited by AJ Nuest and Kelley Heckart

  Cover design by Dana Lamothe of Designs by Dana

  Tribal Artwork by Jeanette Palafox

  Cover Model: Amanda Jean McIntyre

  Formatting by Debra Staples

  ISBN 978-0-9940316-6-2

  For my one true love, Steve, and the two joys of my life, Aurelia and Nate.

  Penang, Malaysia

  554 days since the first outbreak of the Red Death

  I can’t let her die alone.

  Her father’s words haunted her mind. Lucy crumpled the red envelope in her hands, one hot tear sliding down her cheek. Shoving aside the past, she shouldered her black duffle and headed toward the exit.

  Hot, sweltry air blasted over her as she filed down the staircase of the private plane with the other dozen passengers.

  Her driver proved easy enough to spot, sporting a bold-lettered sign with her name: Miss Lucy Yeoh.

  He was tall…tall enough that she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. The man dwarfed her five-seven frame. A driver’s hat and dark sunglasses concealed most of his features. She stared at the lower half of his face. Hmm. What matched that sexy mouth and strong jaw? Amazing how he wasn’t sweating buckets in his tailored uniform. His broad shoulders and expansive chest filled the fancy suit exquisitely. She tilted her head in appreciation. With his muscular build, he looked more like a bodyguard than a personal driver. Heck, he probably is.

  “That’s me. I’m Lucy.” She offered her hand with a friendly smile. He stared at her through those mirrored shades, pivoted, and guided her through the airport to his waiting car.

  She jerked her hand back. Guess he’s not the chatty type. Gripping her bag, she followed him through the air-conditioned hub and back out into the blasting humidity.

  He opened the trunk of his silver town car and held out his hand for her luggage, but she shook her head and clutched the wide strap of her duffle. She didn’t have many possessions left in the world, and what she did own was in this bag.

  Letters her parents had written to her. One family photograph. Her mother’s bracelet and her father’s pocket watch. This red envelope in her hand and, inside, two crimson ribbons bestowed by what remained of America’s government—the closest she’d ever come to a grave for her parents.

  It wasn’t a lot, but no one owned much these days. If an item couldn’t be traded for food stubs, medicine, or batteries, it was as good as garbage.

  Not anymore. At least, not in this part of the world.

  The driver opened the door for her. Casting a furtive “thanks” at him, she slipped inside the car. She plopped her bag onto her lap and smoothed the crumpled envelope over the top, sighing into the air conditioning. Although she’d grown up in Stockton, California, where the summers were quite hot, it’d be a few weeks before she acclimated to the oppressive embrace of this sultry heat.

  The second the driver slid onto his seat, he lowered the partition. With those damned reflective sunglasses, she wasn’t sure if he waited for her instructions or not. Or—she swallowed hard—if he was sizing her up. His scrutiny made her feel like an outsider, as though he wished she’d scurry back to where she belonged.

  Her left ear twitched. Wincing, she squeezed her lobe to stop the tic. She lifted her lashes and, through the mirror, she glimpsed the quirk in the corner of his mouth. His face reset in an instant, and she frowned. Had she imagined the expression? She shifted on her seat until he switched on the radio and the blast of hip-hop music blocked out any requirement for conversation.

  Private car. Badass driver/bodyguard. Her uncle, Xiaodan Yeoh, had to be insanely wealthy. Especially compared to the world she’d left behind. Since Day Zero of the pandemic outbreak, most of Asia managed to scrape by, unscathed by the Red Death. Aptly named because, in the final stages, those infected cried tears of blood.

  Like Mom and Dad.

  As the car sped away, she braced her hand over her heart. Her parents had been alive when they’d been seized by men in hazmat suits. She hadn’t been with them when they’d passed and never had the chance to say a final goodbye.

  The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she flicked her gaze to the partition, but the driver focused dead ahead. Huh. Weird. She could’ve sworn he’d been watching her.

  Despite the strict travel and quarantine regulations, did he question whether she was infected? Was that why he refused to shake her hand? Or maybe his brooding flowed along the lines of why she was important enough to be granted such an exorbitant ticket here.

  Yeah, me too.

  The airport faded into the background, the palm trees giving way to an urban sprawl of stark white and glass buildings as they approached Gurney Drive. Nary a speck of litter soiled the pristine streets. Each car they passed cost more than the last. Malaysia thrived, especially after PETRONAS—the country’s leading energy company—had discovered an underwater oil reserve several years ago.

  The car pulled to the curb, wrenching Lucy from her thoughts. She stuffed the red envelope into the side pocket of her duffle and peered out the window. Her uncle’s condo building soared at least six hundred feet high. Whitewashed concrete, interspersed with mirrored glass, comprised the façade. Lush, tropical landscaping encircled the diamond-shaped footprint.

  The driver strode to her door and held it open.

  She tilted her head and stepped out of the car, trying to determine which floor would be hers.

  The driver closed her door, regarding her through those dark shades for an intense moment, before he slid back inside and drove away. Apparently, he wasn’t her bodygu
ard, after all.

  Her attention shifted to the entrance. A man exited the lobby’s sliding glass doors. As he descended the stairs, the family resemblance sealed his identity. Her uncle was shorter and lankier than her dad, but his eyes bore the same shade of chestnut.

  My uncle. A man she’d never met, whom her father had never even mentioned existed until the night before her parents had been removed.

  This man was the only family she had left in the world.

  She steeled herself, fighting the urge to turn around and hop on a plane home. Back to everything she knew. Her father’s last request had been for her to come here. This was home now.

  Inclining her head in deference, she addressed him using the proper term for her father’s younger brother. “Nĭn hăo, Shūshu.” Although Mandarin was her second language, her family hadn’t been traditional like she assumed her uncle would be.

  Her breath gushed out; strong arms wrapped around her, lifting her feet off the ground until her toes grazed the stone pathway.

  “Zhínǚ. My niece. Lucy.” His embrace tightened, threatening to cut off her air.

  A hug was the last affection she expected from a stranger, relative or not. No one hugged anymore—not since a single touch had become as deadly as a bullet to the head.

  “Oh, sorry.” He rushed the words in English. He must have realized his tight grip was suffocating her. Either that or she’d turned blue.

  “It’s okay.” Her hand flew to her throat. She gasped, wincing a smile. It had been so long since anyone had touched her, tears threatened to break free from the corners of her eyes. She rapidly blinked them away.

  “No.” His affable tone sharpened. “No, it’s not okay. What my brother did, leaving you alone in the world…” Features drawn into a steel mask, he surveyed her, stripping away her guise of confidence. “Well…” He nodded as though satisfied with the results of his perusal. “At least you’re here now. Safe. I trust they vaccinated you?”

  “Yes.” She rubbed at the injection site on her left arm. Her ticket to Malaysia wasn’t the only thing worth more than its weight in gold. Passage to Asia included the elusive Red Death vaccine, which had barely wended its way into North America. The Chinese had been the first to manufacture it. While they provided aid to other countries, vaccinating an entire world against a disease proved unfeasible. Vaccines took time, required testing. As the virus morphed, so too had their vaccination efforts.

  Despite being exposed more than once to the lethal bug and never getting sick, she’d still had to be injected. The Malaysian government wasn’t taking any chances the outbreaks devastating the rest of the world would break loose on their soil too.

  “Where are the rest of your bags, sayang?”

  Her heart seized for a second when he addressed her using the Malay word for “love,” which her father had always called her.

  He scanned the road for the car. “My driver didn’t leave without—”

  “Nope. This is it.” She shrugged. Being thrust into a privileged environment, while everyone she knew remained under quarantine in California, seemed wrong. She’d repacked twice, only to leave behind almost everything to the donation bins.

  “Come, come, you must be exhausted. It’s a long flight.” He snared her arm, leading her inside the lobby where crisp, cool air embraced her.

  While Xiaodan pointed out random facts about the condo, she smiled and nodded politely. They paused in front of the elevators. “Thank you, Shūshu. This can’t be easy for you, either. I do appreciate you taking me in.”

  His thick black brows bunched together. “We’re family. Where else would you have gone? A woman of your age should live with her family. Unless, of course, you marry.” He winked.

  She bit her tongue to stop from countering that she was twenty-four. An adult. Quite capable of managing on her own, without a man to take care of her. She’d had a job and an apartment before the world turned upside down. Before her world spun out of control. She’d only moved back in with her parents because of the quarantine, when all industries had ground to a halt and life became safer indoors than out.

  Her uncle was Old World. He probably deemed her an anomaly for being single at this age, puzzling over why her parents hadn’t auctioned her off to a matchmaker ages ago. A chuckle tickled her throat, but she fought it back.

  “Yes, well, thank you.” The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Pressing her lips together, she followed him inside. Up they went to the thirty-eighth story, right below the penthouse. The elevator hummed to a halt, and she released her tight grip on the railing. She’d never been one for heights, but had better get used to it quickly.

  This was, after all, home sweet home.

  Xiaodan showed her to the apartment—one of two on this floor. The doors stood at opposite ends of a fifteen-foot corridor. As she faced him to inquire who occupied the other flat, its door creaked open.

  Her uncle jammed the keycard into the slot and prodded her inside. He spun and blocked the doorway with his body while he spoke to her new neighbor in harsh, low tones.

  Even with her proficiency in Mandarin, she couldn’t make out what they said to each other. Except her uncle’s tone was severe.

  As he turned back to her, she shifted her gaze to the floor, pretending she hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop. The second she lifted her head to scan her new place, her jaw dropped.

  The wide hallway opened straight into a classic galley kitchen. Beyond the small dining area, instead of a balcony and a view of the city, an enormous terrace sprawled outward. Jungle plants, crawling with gorgeous, exotic flowers, fanned beyond her field of vision.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Like it?” She shook her head in amazement and turned a bright smile on her uncle. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never lived anywhere like this.” The electricity alone was a luxury she hadn’t experienced since the early days of the plague.

  And yay for an unlimited water supply.

  “Well, this is your home now.” He extended his arm, gesturing for her to explore.

  She didn’t require any convincing. The spacious apartment covered at least two thousand square feet and boasted three large bedrooms—the master, the second, and the third, which had been arranged as an office.

  That would come in handy when she began her new job at the private English language school her uncle owned. He didn’t know it yet, but she’d accepted his invitation with the intention of working toward her future. She had goals. Dreams.

  An ESL teacher’s salary wouldn’t cover the rent, but she loved teaching. She’d been halfway through her practicum in a kindergarten class when they’d closed the schools. Her heart had broken at the thought of never knowing if any of those sweet children had survived.

  The heartache splintered her chest. Children and the elderly, being the most vulnerable, were the hardest hit. Part of her preferred not to be informed, so she wouldn’t have to accept that any child in her class had passed away.

  But the numbers on the television screen didn’t lie.

  “I will do everything in my power to make you as comfortable as I can.” Xiaodan placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Please do not hesitate to ask for anything. I will leave you now to rest.” He squeezed hard, planted a kiss on top of her head, and left her alone.

  Alone. Again.

  She rolled out the tension in her shoulders.

  My life isn’t over. It’s just beginning.

  Right. She straightened her spine and strode to the French doors. Twisting the lock, she flung them open, letting the moist, greenhouse-like humidity crash over her. As she inhaled the floral air, she embraced its purity. Cleansing. Renewing.

  Shucking her sandals, she followed the path, her bare feet soaking in the warmth of the stones. Her head tilted back, she drank in the sunlight. After months in a quarantine cell, this freedom was heaven. Despite the hefty sum of her ticket, paid for by her uncle, she had spent three long months in a secured lockup before being allowe
d into the country. If not for her desperation to come here, she might have gone nuts between the whitewashed walls of her cell.

  As she lowered her lashes, she caught sight of movement behind the copse of leathery leaves. Quirking her head, she treaded around the corner into the clearing at the end of the path.

  Her foot snagged on a tile, and she tripped forward, her hands and knees slamming onto the pathway. Ouch. Focused on the blur of motion ahead, she’d missed the uneven stonework. She hissed while she examined the mild scrape on her hands, brushed the pain off, and lifted her gaze.

  Wow. A sexy, tattooed exhibition of bronzed skin greeted her. As she blinked, she realized the statuesque figure was actually a man. He sat cross-legged in the center of the clearing, his back to her, clad in only a pair of black, tailored martial arts pants.

  Her gaze meandered over ripped muscles and the darkly inked, tribal tattoo of a tiger. The animal stretched from its head on the man’s left shoulder to the tip of its curved tail near the base of his waist on the right side.

  “Oh, sorry.” She shot to her feet, wiping her hands on her skirt. “I assumed this was my terrace. Sorry for intruding.”

  He remained silent. His back ramrod straight, hands balanced on his knees, he was clearly deep in a form of meditation like qìgōng. Just as she was about to leave him be, he tilted his head toward her and regarded her from the corners of his dark-lashed eyes.

  She froze and her mouth dried while those eyes stalked her, a covetous flash in them. Suddenly, the vulnerability of her situation became clear. A woman alone, where no one would hear her screams.

  Her instincts assessed the threat. Flight or fight?

  As her mind raced along every possible outcome, her reasoning kicked in. Her uncle wouldn’t have placed her next to a crazy, dangerous man, would he? The guy hadn’t seemed like a psychopath a moment ago, as peaceful concentration had been etched into his features. But dangerous?

  Oh, yeah.