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He grabbed the supply bag and the leather satchel that Skye was holding. He felt her watching him closely as he slung the two bags over his shoulders. She glanced at his brother Julian, and for a second the cat clawed just beneath his skin. Jagger had to fight the urge to growl, to warn away the other man from the blonde.
What the hell was up with that?
Julian shot him a quick look as if he could sense the turmoil that slithered just beneath the surface.
“So, where we headed, anyway?” Skye’s husky tone effectively broke the awkward moment and Jagger answered her quickly, pointing toward the northeast.
“We need to head back toward the Cockscomb Basin. That’s where the jaguar reserve is located. If we can’t find Nico there, then we’ll try Monkey River.”
“You’re taking Skye to see Nico?”
Jagger turned to his brother, not liking the tone or the implication. He would protect Skye.
“Nico knows every square mile of this entire area, from the Carribean Sea to the base of the Victoria. If he doesn’t know where this cave is located, then no one does.”
“But he’s … the last time I saw him, he was unstable.” Julian’s frown hardened even more. “You would trust him?”
Jagger did growl, low, rough, and the meaning was clear. Back off. “Nico will not harm a hair on her head. He may be crazy but he’d never attack someone.” His gaze touched on the blue of Skye’s. “Unless he was provoked.”
“Nice,” Skye muttered, stowing the other supply bag tight across her shoulders.
Jagger held his brother’s attention for several more seconds. A myriad of emotions flew through him.
They’d never been super close, the two of them. As the oldest, Julian had been groomed from a young age to take over the helm of Blue Heaven Industries from their father. It had pretty much been a done deal when adolescence had come and gone, revealing no warrior tattoos.
Jagger and Jaxon, however, had both developed the warrior tats when they were on the cusp of change, and the subtle dislike his father had for that part of their heritage was not easily hidden. Jagger had fled the homestead as soon as he’d been able. Enlisted, trained for special ops, and had never looked back.
It was ironic to see how the call of the wild had affected Julian. Right now, in this moment, with the heat of the jungle damp on their skin, the threat of battle imminent, his brother was just as much a warrior as if he’d been born with the very tattoos his father abhorred.
Still, brother or not, he didn’t like anyone questioning his authority and decisions.
“Be careful,” Jagger said gruffly, and then he turned away. He indicated that Skye follow; without a backward glance he led the way and the two of them disappeared into the jungle.
The going was rough, the air heavy with the threat of a storm. Jagger kept up a relentless pace, stopping only briefly for a rest, and if fresh water was nearby, they’d fill their bottles and then move on.
There was a sense of urgency he couldn’t shake, and he was sure that Skye felt the same. She kept up, didn’t complain, not even when he knew she was close to being dead on her feet.
Dusk was rapidly approaching. They still had a full day’s hike to get to the Cockscomb Basin. It was between the Maya Mountains and the Caribbean Sea.
Jagger had been vigilant and knew they were safe for the moment. He sensed no other warriors or any traces of magick on the wind.
He began to scout for shelter, but it was Skye who pointed out what appeared to be ruins of some kind. They were obviously Mayan and as they approached in silence, he felt a sense of wonder. It never ceased to amaze him how time marched on, her trials and tribulations scarring the landscape, but something always survived.
They approached with caution and again his senses picked up nothing out of the ordinary. The birds, insects, and all the other noises that filled the jungle like a chaotic symphony signaled nothing out of order.
It looked to be some sort of ceremonial area, much of it reclaimed by the rain forest, but it would provide shelter for the night.
Skye stumbled as she walked beside him and his arm snaked out, catching her around the waist. She stilled, catching her breath, yet didn’t pull away.
She’d long given up trying to tame the wild mane of hair that streaked past her shoulders in long wisps of golden smoke. The tendrils curled seductively, caressing the bare skin of her arms and neck.
Jagger had the insane urge to push the heavy mane away to cool the hot skin beneath it.
“We rest here,” he said gruffly, not liking the softness that had unfurled inside of him. Things were about as bad as they could get. Christ, they were hunting down an ancient Aztec portal that was a fucking conduit to the demon realm.
There was no room for rainbows and puppy dogs.
Skye remained quiet, although she pulled away and walked over to a downed tree. He watched from the corners of his eyes as she sat down, grabbed a tin of food from her pack and opened it.
