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His eyes settled on her face and he kinked his head to the side in an effort to better study her. A slight grimace creased the soft corners of her mouth and her eyes were moving rapidly behind the closed lids. Her arms
were wrapped tightly about her midsection and long strands of dark blond hair fell in mass disarray well past her shoulders.
“Who the hell are you?” he murmured out loud, stunned to hear the sound of his own voice, husky and scratchy from months of silence.
Jagger glanced around what had been his home for the last two months and then without pausing slid his long limbs behind the slumbering woman. He clenched his mouth together tightly, biting the inside of his cheek at the feel of her against his nakedness.
It was pure torture … and incredibly erotic. His cock, already hard with need lay against the small of her back. Slowly he pulled her shivering form into his embrace and fought the urge to bury his face in the fragrant layers of hair that caressed her neck.
He felt her body tense but then, seconds later, relax. She sighed softly, welcoming the warmth his body provided, and wiggled her ass slightly in an effort to get closer to him. Jagger hissed at the sensations that exploded up from his groin and went straight to his dick.
Fuck. It was gonna be a long night.
Pain was the first thing Skye felt as she slowly muddled her way up from the deep recesses of sleep. Her mind was fuzzy, thick, and sluggish. It felt like a whole bottle of cotton balls had been deposited inside her cranium and they were deadening all sensation and warping her thought process.
The pain continued and radiated from the back of her skull outward. Her hands automatically tried to reach the back of her head but she was pinned beneath something. Her eyes flew open and she groaned as fragments of pressure burst behind them, and she squinted, trying to see clearly.
She felt something at her back. It was warm, solid, and as her brain began to function, a feeling of dread leapt up from her belly. She could feel and hear a heartbeat that was strong and steady against her flesh. It belonged to a male. Of that there was no doubt. The masculine hardness that gripped her soft curves could not be confused with anything other than what it was.
She stilled and looked downward. Two long arms encircled her from behind: one lay protectively underneath the swell of her breasts; the other was splayed out along the ground, palms up, fingers loose and relaxed. The flesh was much darker than her golden skin, like amaretto, and heat swirled quickly inside her belly.
She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs, extremely annoyed at her body’s response.
She squealed softly as the arm that lay underneath her breasts moved slightly and she felt the shift of his body behind her as one long leg slowly covered her hip and moved her in closer to the ever-present hardness that was unmistakable against her back.
She held her breath and snuck a quick peak at the leg that lay so intimately against her own. Once again it was long, muscular and way too comfortably draped across her hip.
Where the hell was she? And who the heck was the naked man scrunched up against her butt? She sure as hell knew he didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.
She could feel it.
Unease continued to pump inside of her, rushing through her veins, as fear, confusion, and panic began to build.
She closed her eyes and struggled to remember how she had ended up here … wherever the hell here was.
Then it came to her in a rush and her heart took off as her lungs fed on the adrenaline spike. She sputtered as she tried to breathe. She’d been attacked by jaguars. The last thing she remembered was a tall, naked god of a man approaching her from the mist.
Softly Skye groaned and the slight movement sent sharp pains rushing through her skull. He was jaguar and she’d jumped over the falls.
And now she was … Where the hell was she?
Frantic, she searched the immediate area with her eyes, and she swallowed thickly when the arm around her midsection tightened, as if the man knew she was desperate to flee. The hand that had been relaxed on the ground slowly crept over her body and began to caress her belly.
Skye hissed softly as her mind began to run in circles. She clamped her mouth shut tightly and forced herself to calm. She needed to think and get herself out of this situation. But she had to be smart about it. Too much rested on her shoulders and there was no room for error.
His hands were rough, callused, and his scent filled her nostrils as he slowly turned her body. She closed her eyes and centered her mind as she calculated her odds. The man was strong, that she could feel, so she needed to time things properly.
He continued to slowly pull her up his body and suddenly her eyes flew open to stare into deep green eyes that at the moment were hooded, heavy with desire.
It was definitely the man from the mist and she tried not to let her panic show.
He was dark, with longish, wavy, blue black hair, a straight noble nose, chiseled cheekbones, and square jaw. He was incredibly male, totally sexy, but he carried the tattoos of her enemy. They shimmered against his flesh, caressing his neck as they flaunted their power in her face.
Skye held her breath and let her body relax into liquid as she stared directly into his eyes. He knew something was up. Wariness now clung to them, replacing the dark desire she’d first witnessed.
He was one hell of a male specimen, for sure.
But he was jaguar and even though he’d taken out a DaCosta the night before, in her world, that didn’t mean squat. She couldn’t take the chance that he was aligned with the wrong side. Cormac’s side.
