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Roark studied Nace’s profile. Yep. It fit. “Welcome home.”
Nace tilted his face into the rain. “Yeah. Great to be here. The weather’s wonderful.”
While they shot the breeze, Celene worked at the top of the temple, deep in concentration, trying to pull the sword to the surface.
A few steps below her, his Indy stomped out a rhythm, pausing the dance long enough to blow him a kiss.
Hair prickled on Roark’s neck, but he didn’t turn his head. “Do you feel it?” He lowered his voice, for Nace’s ears only.
“I do. The jungle has eyes. I don’t think they belong to tourists.”
Though Roark had two short blades, at a moment’s notice he could pop a wicked beak along with sharp talons. “You armed?”
Nace grinned, showing fangs while he curled his hands into claws. “I’m always carrying.”
It was then Indy’s shrieks caught their attention. A wide-eyed Celene was cradling the weapon.
Blood’s Kiss.
Roark knew, even at this distance.
With the blade in her grasp, Celene swayed from exhaustion, Indigo clutching the Blood Coven descendant’s elbow for support.
Then two armed demons raced from cover.
Crouching, Roark pulled both of his karambit curved blades from their sheaths at his hips. Shaped like bird-of-prey talons, they felt at home in his fists.
“Protect Celene.” Nace shouted the order to Indigo while he half shifted to his jaguar, his best fighting form, eyes blazing gold, canines long and sharp, body taller and broader, claws tearing from his fingers.
Indy shoved the Blood Coven descendant behind her, backing them into the darkness of the temple. She must have conjured Oskar because he materialized, installing his fat lion’s ass in front of the females, flames shooting from his mouth.
Nace threw back his head and roared, trees bowing from the force of his battle cry. No wonder the Mayans had worshiped his breed as gods.
A carnal demon thundered toward Roark. Big mutherfucker. Planting his feet, he stood his ground until the last second. When he lunged aside, the giant, unable to stop his momentum, flew past.
Roark pivoted to face the attacker who, like any good carnal beast, threw out waves of pheromones intended to bring an enemy to his knees with lust.
Obliging the deluded demon, Roark staggered. He swayed. Hell, he should get an Oscar for his performance.
The oversized challenger rushed forward, his eyes revealing a certainty he had won.
At the last moment, Roark ducked. When he straightened, he flipped his blades to a combat hold, plunging one into the guy’s meaty gut. In. Out. Neat and sweet.
The male cried out, clutching the gaping wound, wide-eyed shock on his face, obviously disappointed he wouldn’t be giving Roark a good ass-reaming. Once again, he sent out a round of lust while blood gushed from his stomach.
Roark drew a deep breath, inhaling the erotic mist, letting it wash over him. He grinned while the demon pulled his brows into tight slashes of surprise. Likely, previous combatants had succumbed to the sex chemicals oozing from his pores. Not so Roark. Of course, it gave him a fierce hard-on, but it was not incapacitating. He did have a quick flash of Indy going down on him.
Later.
Though Roark was high on pheromones and battle lust, he spun, whipping his blades through the air until they found their mark, leaving a headless Aeternal on the jungle floor. Victorious, he stuck a finger in each karambit’s ring at the top of the hilt, twirling the knives around before plugging them back into their holsters.
Okay. Showy but satisfying.
He sought Nace, who was busy shredding his demon. A piece of him here. A piece over there. Blood everywhere. Messy business.
Indy and Celene were safe. With his witch’s assistance and Oskar leading the way, Celene neared the bottom step.
When the jaguar shifter spied her, he stored his claws and retracted his canines. Before she could stumble onto the ground, he scooped her up, sword and all, asking, “Are you okay?”
