Tarotica Read online

  Tarotica

  Amber Austin

  Miranda Malone is about to embark on the greatest adventure of her life. While she’s on vacation in San Francisco, a masked man kidnaps her at gunpoint. As she tries desperately to think of a way to escape, Miranda notices a tattoo of the Earth on the man’s palm and remembers her beloved father’s deathbed prophecy: “Your future husband will hold the world in the palm of his hand.”

  Her abductor turns out to be a gorgeous Napa Valley winemaker who’s running for his life. Eli Hart has uncovered a plot to destroy the vineyard where he works and suspects a French competitor of the crime. He’s being chased by two Frenchmen bent on eliminating him before he can reveal what he knows.

  Miranda and Eli set off on an erotic, magical, and sometimes perilous journey that leads from coast to coast. As they strive to elude their pursuers and bring the criminals to justice, they meet a colorful cast of characters, each of whom represents a card in the Major Arcana of the tarot. Their journey is a tarot deck come to life, full of mystery, romance, and passion.

  Amber Austin

  TAROTICA

  Introduction

  Some people believe the ancient, mysterious, beautiful oracle called the tarot holds the secrets to life.

  Miranda Malone isn’t sure.

  But she’s about to find out…

  Tarot decks feature seventy-eight illustrated cards, divided into two sections called the Minor Arcana and the Major Arcana. Originally, however, the tarot only contained the twenty-two cards of the Major Arcana. These cards symbolize people, situations, events, or even cosmic forces. Seen as a whole, they describe a journey from innocence to wisdom, sometimes called The Fool’s Journey. Each Major Arcana card—beginning with 0: The Fool and ending with 21: The World—depicts a stage of this journey and reveals an insight, lesson, or spiritual truth.

  In Tarotica, Miranda Malone undertakes her own journey that winds across the United States. Along the way she encounters a colorful cast of characters who portray the cards of the Major Arcana. The first of these is Eli Hart, who’s dressed as The Fool when she meets him; he becomes her lover and companion on the journey. Each chapter of their erotic adventure corresponds to one card in the tarot deck. Miranda’s and Eli’s experiences and the people they meet during their trip guide the lovers on their path to self discovery and teach them the secrets of the tarot.

  Join Miranda as she explores the mysteries of life and discovers her own erotic potential in Tarotica…

  Card 0: The Fool

  Miranda Malone watched a menagerie in sequins, feathers, and black leather parade down San Francisco’s Market Street. The Castro’s carnival atmosphere was more outrageous and exciting than she could have imagined. When a young African man dressed like a gumball machine invited her to drop a dime into his codpiece, she laughed and caught the handful of rainbow-colored treats that spilled out. Miranda knew plenty of unusual characters back home in Salem, Massachusetts, but none compared to these!

  Even with the new purple streaks in her long dark hair, she felt a bit ordinary.

  She’d flown to California three days ago to begin a cross-country journey she’d been planning for seven years. Originally she’d intended to take the trip right after graduating from art school. But then her father was diagnosed with cancer and she’d stayed home to care for him. Now, with the money from his life insurance policy, she could follow her dream.

  A tall man wearing only body paint and a boa constrictor passed Miranda and wagged both his snakes at her. She shrieked with laughter. Three trumpeters with gold lamé g-strings strolled by. A masked man in a jester suit abandoned the parade and approached Miranda. Throwing his arms around her as if they were long-lost friends, he hissed in her ear, “Don’t scream.” Something hard jabbed into her ribs.

  Before Miranda had time to react, the man hustled her through the crowd. “Do you have a car?” he asked and poked her in the ribs again. This time she saw the gun.

  She nodded.

  “Take me to it. And no funny stuff.”

  Fear and anger surged in her stomach as the reality of her situation sank in.

  Struggling to keep her emotions from clouding her thinking, Miranda tried to recall what one was supposed to do in a case like this. She couldn’t run—the streets were jammed with people—and if she yelled, this crowd would probably mistake her plight for some kinky foreplay ritual. If they could even hear her over the hullabaloo. She reached for her cell phone, but the man noticed and snatched her purse away. In San Francisco, a man carrying a purse didn’t even attract a glance.

  When they came to the spot where Miranda had parked her rented Kia, she considered kicking the car hard to set off the alarm. But nobody paid attention to car alarms anyway, and she didn’t want to provoke the man in the jester suit while his gun barrel was nuzzling her bra.

  He rummaged through her oversized purse and found the keys. Maybe he just wants the car, she hoped. But her hopes dissolved when he unlocked the passenger side door and shoved her in.

  “Climb over,” he ordered. “You’re driving.”

  She crawled over the console, banging her knee on the gearshift. Keeping the gun trained on her, the man got in beside her and fit the key into the ignition.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Just head for the Golden Gate Bridge.” He waved the gun at her. “Move it.”

  Slowly she slid the car into the stream of traffic. As she navigated San Francisco’s famous hills, her mind scrambled for an escape plan. Suddenly she recalled one of those Read this: It could save your life! e-mails she’d received. Biding her time, she began scouting about for something big and solid she could ram the Kia into, launching the air bags and bringing police to the scene of the accident. Soon she spotted a concrete bridge abutment, aimed for it, and sped up.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” the jester demanded, grabbing the steering wheel.

  Miranda jerked the wheel as hard as she could and banged his other arm with her elbow, dislodging the gun. It toppled onto the console. Quickly, Miranda snatched it.

  It was a toy.

  A car blew its horn as the Kia swerved into the other driver’s lane. She pulled back into her own lane and slowed down, clutching the wheel to steady her shaking hands.

  “What the hell?” she shouted and threw the plastic pistol at him.

  With a sigh of resignation, the man removed his mask and the ridiculous hood with the jingle bells, revealing amber-colored hair, pale green eyes, and a face right out of a Calvin Klein ad. He smiled sheepishly.

  “Please, I can explain everything,” he said, holding up his hands.

  “Oh my God!”

  Miranda’s heart banged against her ribcage, and she wasn’t sure whether the wild ride or the guy next to her had provoked it. She veered onto the shoulder of the road and hit the brake. As the car came to a stop, she seized his right hand. In the center of his palm, she saw a silver-dollar-sized tattoo of the Earth.

  Her father’s strange deathbed prophecy rang in her ears: Your future husband will hold the world in the palm of his hand.

  “Oh my God,” she said again. “Who are you?”

  “Eli Hart.”

  “Heart, as in love?” she asked, placing her hand over her own pounding heart.

  “No, H-a-r-t, like a stag. I work at the Meditrina Vineyards in Napa. Or at least, I did. Now I’m running for my life.”

  Miranda glared at him. “What did you do, steal the payroll? Poison your boss?”

  “Of course not,” he said indignantly. “Hey, what about ‘innocent until proven guilty’?”

  “So far, you’re guilty of kidnapping.”

  “I apologize for scaring you. I only did it because I was desperate. I couldn’t use my own car. They’d ha
ve followed me.”

  “Who are they?”

  “It’s a long story.” He gave her that sheepish grin again and Miranda felt her heart skip a beat.

  “High-concept it for me,” she said.

  “Okay, I’ll try. Someone has been killing Meditrina’s grapevines by infecting them with a deadly fungus. I suspected the source might be foreign, so I took samples to a botany professor I know at San Francisco State. Turns out I was right. It’s a disease called Mort Jaune—Yellow Death—that until recently only existed in France. Now the bastards want to eliminate me before I can blow the whistle.”

  “Why would anybody want to kill grapevines?”

  “Listen, Ms…”

  “Miranda.”

  “Miranda, could we keep driving?”

  Do I dare trust this man? Miranda asked herself. Cute guys had been her downfall before. And this one hadn’t behaved like a gentleman thus far. Maybe he really was in trouble, but helping him could endanger her, too. Still, he had that tattoo on his palm…

  “What’s the story behind that tattoo?”

  “I got it to honor Mother Earth. And my own mother as well—she was a dedicated environmentalist. She died two years ago. It’s sort of a talisman, too, I guess.

  I’d hoped it would help me grow the best grapes in California.”

  Miranda eased the car onto the highway. The whole reason for taking this journey was to have an adventure, she reminded herself. Be careful what you ask for!

  “One more question. Why did you abduct me?”

  Eli laughed. “If you’re going to kidnap somebody, it might as well be a beautiful woman.”

  * * *

  As San Francisco diminished in the rearview mirror, Eli pulled out his cell phone.

  “Sybil, I’m in trouble. I need a place to hide out for a while… just north of the city… with a friend… thanks, see you soon.”

  “Who’s Sybil?” Miranda asked.

  “My mother’s best friend. She’s known me all my life, literally. She assisted at my birth.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Mendocino. You’ll like it. It’s really pretty and low key.”

  On the drive up the California coast, Miranda told Eli about her life as an artist in the historic Witch City. He told her more than she wanted to know about armillaria mellea root fungus, cylindrocarpon, “black goo,” and the other perils of the wine industry. The technical aspects of his work didn’t interest her much, but she admired his passion and his tenderness when he spoke of his beloved grapevines. Would he demonstrate such passion and tenderness toward a woman? she wondered.

  The crescent moon smiled in an indigo sky as they turned into Sybil’s driveway.

  An ornate wrought-iron gate decorated with dragons swung open to admit them. Miranda glanced around for some sort of electronic sensor, but saw none. Tall, spooky-looking trees edged the winding driveway. After a half-mile, they came to a stone house.

  A light snapped on and a tall, slender woman in a long turquoise dress stepped out onto the front porch. Flowed out is more like it, Miranda thought, for the woman seemed to glide on air. Glistening silver hair hung to her waist.

  “Welcome,” she called to them.

  “Sybil, thanks for providing a port in the storm,” Eli said.

  The woman nodded almost imperceptibly. “But of course.”

  He pulled Miranda’s suitcase out of the trunk and carried it to the house. As he and Sybil hugged warmly, Miranda noticed him relax for the first time.

  “Is that supposed to be a disguise?” Sybil asked, studying his harlequin garb.

  “It helped me escape San Francisco.”

  “In the morning you can tell me all about it and we’ll find you something more appropriate for the country,” she promised.

  “May I present Miranda Malone?” he said. “Miranda, this is my dear friend, Sybil Lake.”

  The two women shook hands. Except for the gray hair, Miranda thought, Sybil could be twenty-five. Her violet eyes sparkled and not a single wrinkle marred her smooth skin.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “No, thanks, we ate on the way,” Eli answered. “But we’re pretty tired.”

  “It’s been an amazing day,” Miranda added.

  Sybil eyed the pair with a smile. “Let me show you to your room.”

  Room. They’d only met this afternoon, and not under the most romantic of circumstances. Miranda wasn’t sure she was ready to sleep with Eli, despite his adorable smile and sexy green eyes. Before she could object, however, Sybil led the way to a charming bedroom with a four-poster bed.

  “I hope you’ll be comfortable,” she said and closed the door behind her.

  Eli gave Miranda a look that melted her reserve, a blend of vulnerability, gratitude, and pure lust. He took her hand and kissed her fingers one at a time. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me. You probably saved my life.”

  A feminist fairy tale, she thought. This time, the damsel rescued the knight. She liked the idea; it made her feel daring and powerful. And sex was all about power. A surge of electricity zapped her like a vibrator teasing her clit. Cute guys are part of the adventure, she reminded herself. And if he’s supposed to be my future husband, I’d better check him out.

  He glanced at the bed. “Miranda, I can sleep on the couch if you’d like.”

  “No way.” She stepped forward and kissed him.

  That was all the invitation Eli needed. He put his arms around her and drew her against him. Through his jester suit, she could feel his cock stiffen. He slid his hands under her T-shirt and deftly unhooked her bra. Cupping her breasts, he thumbed her nipples. Spikes of pleasure shot through her torso and lodged in her pussy. He pulled her T-shirt over her head, then unzipped her jeans. As he slid them down over her hips, taking her panties along with them, Miranda was certain she felt heat radiating from the tattoo on his palm.

  When he’d divested her of her clothing, Eli stepped back and examined her intently. “You’re so beautiful. You remind me of Botticelli’s ‘Birth of Venus’.”

  Want to win a girl’s heart, tell her she’s beautiful. Miranda grinned and struck a pose like the goddess in the famous painting.

  He brushed her long hair back from her face and kissed her eyes, her earlobes, her neck, slowly working his way down to her nipples. As he sucked first one, then the other, his fingers found her slippery slit.

  “How does this costume come off?” she asked impatiently, searching for buttons or a zipper.

  “All in good time.” He led her to the bed and sat her down on the edge. Spreading her legs, he knelt between them. “Lie back,” he said.

  Miranda did.

  Gently he parted her pussy lips. “You’re like an exquisite flower,” he told her, running his index finger along the inner folds. He pinched her clit ever-so-lightly. “Look at this beautiful little bud.” He probed her, then withdrew his finger and licked off her juice. “And such delicious nectar.”

  When his tongue swiped her seam, Miranda gasped. Her thighs began trembling.

  Her cunt sighed open, beckoning to him.

  “You taste sweeter than wine,” he murmured. “Refined and delicate, like pinot noir. Yet there’s an earthy fruitiness, too, like a shiraz.”

  “Eli, how about a little less talk and a lot more action?”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  He left off long enough to fish his wallet out and unwrap a condom. His cock poked at the baggy harlequin suit like a tent pole. Unfastening his fly, he freed it.

  “Aren’t you going to take off that silly costume?” Miranda asked. She longed to see what it concealed. Did washboard abs and muscular pecs lurk beneath his fool’s garb?

  “And spoil a unique experience? I bet you’ve never made it with a jester before.”

  “You’ve got a point.” She stroked his eager prick, which seemed oddly exotic framed by the multicolored material, and took the condom from him. “Let me.” Deftly s
he slipped it over his swollen purple head, then rolled it down the rest of the way with her lips.

  The springs creaked as they fell on the antique bed together. Eli lay back and pulled her on top of him. How did he know this is my favorite position? she wondered, straddling him. Quickly she engulfed his cock and ground her clit against his pubic bone.

  The silky fabric caressed her as she rode him hard and fast, hungrily devouring him. Eli stayed right there with her—she marveled at how he paced himself so adeptly to her rhythm—and held on as her orgasm roared through her like a tornado. When she throttled back a bit, he followed her, thrusting slower and deeper until she exploded again.

  “I want to feel you come with me,” she purred.

  Arching his back like a bow, he shot his arrow deep into her target. Her pussy clenched his shaft, milking him of his fluid. His throbbing brought her another wave of convulsions.

  Spent, Miranda collapsed on his chest, gasping for breath. Eli stroked her hair while she listened to his heartbeat gradually return to normal. Lying in his arms, she felt oddly serene, as if they’d known each other for years instead of hours. She was just about to doze off when he asked, “Did you save room for dessert?”

  Card 1: The Magician

  After four days at Sybil’s isolated retreat, Miranda felt restless. Yes, it was beautiful and peaceful here. But peace wasn’t on Miranda’s agenda. A big country stretched before her, full of adventure, excitement, and interesting people. She’d been waiting seven years to take this trip and she didn’t want to waste a single minute. Who knew how long Eli might have to stay here, hiding from the bad guys who intended to destroy him like they’d killed Meditrina’s grapevines?

  She liked Eli. And she admired his ability to remain cheerful in the face of danger—he insisted that if his days were numbered, he didn’t intend to spend them worrying. Someday he might become my husband, but I’m not ready for commitment yet, Miranda thought . I’ve got things to do, people to meet.