“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The clear amusement in his brown eyes as she looked up told her he knew exactly what she was talking about. And he’d seen the films. With his gel-slicked hair, his designer aftershave and suit, he appeared self-important. Emma’s right fist curled and drew back, ready to let rip. His face. His gut. She didn’t care what she smacked—anything to prick his smug ego.
“Fine,” she snapped, taking a deep, calming breath. “I’m going to ring the police.” She marched past, but his hand shot out and fastened around her forearm with the force of a steel manacle.
“I don’t think so, my dear.”
“I am not your dear.” Only one man for her, and it wasn’t this one.
With his greater height and strength, Mahoney forced her to trot at his side a short distance down the corridor before knocking on a door with his free hand.
Emma fought every step of the way. “Let me go.”
The door jerked open and Mahoney pushed her inside a storage room. Shelves were stacked with small brown boxes while a desk and two chairs sat just inside between the door and the shelves. Emma squinted, trying to read the labels on the boxes. Her breath hissed through clenched teeth. Bingo. The storage room they’d been searching for.
The man who had opened the door looked alert. “Problem, Mr. Mahoney?”
“Nothing we can’t handle,” Mahoney said, shoving Emma farther into the room.
Emma was pleased to see her struggles had messed up Mahoney’s hair. She jerked from his touch, and this time he let her.
“Keep her here out of trouble. Get a rope. We’ll tie her up.”
Emma backed up, lashing out with her feet, kicking and biting, but the two men overpowered her when they forced her into a corner. Still, she didn’t make it painless for them, managing to draw blood with a blow to one man’s nose. George would have been proud of her. The arrival of a third man made their job easier and soon she was trussed up tight. They left her sitting on the floor near the shelves.
“You can’t keep me here,” Emma screeched. Hopefully, someone would hear.
Mahoney scowled as he swept a hand through his dark hair. “If the noise gets too bad, gag her.” He glared at her before striding from the room.
Emma stopped mid-shout. Best she saved the shouting for later when she really needed to attract attention.
* * * * *
The magnetic pull of the moon gave testiness a whole new meaning. Jack strode to their room, hoping like hell Emma was there and could be tempted into a quickie. His stomach twisted, pain slicing like a blunt knife. Sex. God, please let Emma be there. He’d never felt the like of this before. He needed to slam into her pussy in the worst possible way. A glance at his hand showed the dark stems of his claws beneath his human fingernails. Another sharp surge of pain almost doubled him over. He fell inside the room. Emma wasn’t there. Shit. He was gonna have to jerk-off to stave off both the pain and the taniwha. Along with the thought came a sliver of worry. He hadn’t seen her since this morning.
Jack ripped off his clothes before a wave of pain doubled him over. He crawled into the bathroom before pulling to his feet in front of the mirror. His face glinted with the pale gray of taniwha scales. His hands fisted around his cock and he noticed that too glinted a pearl gray color. Emma. He concentrated, visualizing her in his mind. Her ripe curves. Her mouth wrapped around his swollen cock. Jack pumped his erection, stroking with hard, even strokes. Not enough to send him over the edge but sufficient to keep the taniwha at bay. Jack stretched the process out for as long as he could before applying a bit more pressure to his sensitive tip. He came with a rush in his fisted hand. As he cleaned up, Emma filled his mind.
Where the hell was she? She’d said she intended to go to the gym. He’d go there first. If anything had happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.
* * * * *
The guards scarcely paid any attention to her. There were two of them and they looked like clones of the ones who worked in the gym. They argued about who was going to lunch first. Evidently it was chocolate penis day and the chef had a great recipe for the truffle filling. Finally they tossed a coin and the winner left jubilant. The other placed a pair of earphones on his head and played his music loud enough that Emma could hear the bass where she was sitting.
Half an hour passed as Emma fought to loosen the length of rope they’d tied her wrists with. The first man returned, brandishing his chocolate penis dessert and the second left for lunch.
Emma continued to work toward freedom, her gaze on her minder. He swiped his tongue across the very tip of his chocolate penis dessert and moaned in ecstasy.
Good grief. He was taking eating to a whole new level. Emma stared, not wanting to watch but mesmerized by his performance.
His groan was an animal grunt, and when he pulled the penis away from his mouth, Emma saw he’d nibbled off the tip. A trickle of the filling dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
Eew! She shuddered and looked away. That was so not sexy.
Without warning the rope that tied her hands loosened—just a fraction. Emma doubled her efforts and five minutes later, one hand slid free. She drew her legs up in a stealthy fashion and unfastened the rope around her ankles.
A weapon.
Carefully she turned to scan her surroundings. There was no way she could creep out, not with the penis-sucking man right near the door. But he was so engrossed…
Emma’s gaze lit on a large rock near the door. It looked as though it was used as a doorstop when they were bringing in more supplies. She glanced from the rock to the man’s head. The rock would make an excellent weapon—if she could grab it before the man worked out what she was up to.
The man continued sucking on the penis. Emma’s lips curled in distaste while she worked on freeing her other hand. Then she blinked. Even better! The man was nodding off.
She scanned the room. Perhaps she should take a look in one of the brown boxes? The man looked as though he was asleep. Holding her breath, she tugged open the closest box. It was full of foil packs containing pills. Emma slipped one inside her shorts pocket. A snort sounded. Emma froze, but when she whirled around to look, his eyes remained closed. Her breath eased out and she stood, gliding smoothly forward to scoop up the rock. It was heavier than it looked. And in truth, she wasn’t sure she could hit a sleeping man over the head. As she edged closer, she saw his face was smeared with dark chocolate. That settled it—she couldn’t hit a man who looked like a defenseless kid. Emma took another two steps and reached for the door, still holding the rock. Her free hand closed around the brass handle and twisted. The door squeaked.
The man jerked awake. “What?”
Emma threw the rock at him and ripped the door fully open. The man cried out. She heard a crash but didn’t stop to see the damage. Instead she hurried toward the main corridor, peeked around the corner. When she saw it was all clear, sprinted in the opposite direction to the restaurant.
Jack.
She had to find Jack.
* * * * *
Jack scanned the bodies in the gym, urgency humming through his tense body. Emma wasn’t here. He couldn’t smell the girly floral soap she used and he sure as hell couldn’t see her.
He stalked through to the restaurant, searching faces, his gut churning insistently the whole time. If anything had happened to her…
Pushing through the queue at the buffet, he ignored the comments about rudeness. She had to be somewhere. Outside, he checked the bar and around the pool. Down on the beach. Worry creased his brow while the pull of the blue moon created havoc with his body. Every bone in his body ached as if he had a fever and sweat glued his shirt to his chest and back. He forced himself to stagger farther down the beach, to push through the pain that made him shiver and shake.
All he could think of was Emma. The way she smiled. The way she pushed him, ignoring his bouts of surliness. The way she gave her all when they made love. Jack snorted. S
omewhere along the line, Emma had crept into the empty spaces inside. It was a damn uncomfortable sensation, but he’d come to like her presence.
A flash of red caught his eye as he hurried along the beach. “Emma. Where the hell have you been?” A wave of pain doubled him over. Sex. Shit, now. Jack glanced up and down the beach. He jerked her against his chest, shuddering at the feminine feel of her. Her sunset hair was ruffled and dirt coated one cheek. He lifted a trembling hand, battling nausea and acute stomach pangs to unbutton her shirt. A quickie to take the edge off, to stave the pain and halt the shift to taniwha. He fumbled, his nails well on the way to transformation.
Emma frowned, glancing over her shoulder. “What are you doing? Shit! We’ve got to go.” Her hands and wrists were bloodied when she lifted them to push against his chest.
“What happened?” Damn, his voice was changing. Desperation swelled along with pain. Sex. Now.
“Run.” Emma grabbed his forearm. “They’re after me.”
A gunshot punctuated her words. Emma sprinted down the beach toward the river mouth. Jack lumbered after her, trying to focus on moving one foot after the other. Waves of pain engulfed him, sharp and intense. His hands had turned. If the transformation went much further he wouldn’t be able to come back—not for twenty-four hours.
The soft sand changed to mud that oozed between his sandaled feet. Jack paused to rip off his shirt and yank off his leather sandals. Pearly scales had already formed on his chest. Jack glanced at Emma in front of him as she darted between two mangrove trees. He lumbered after her, ignoring the grasping branches of the mangrove trees that gouged his limbs.
The pungent scent of the mud and the salty tang of the water called to his taniwha soul. Emma. Regret pierced Jack along with sorrow, and in that moment he realized he cared more for her than he’d ever cared for another woman. And he was going to lose her, if he didn’t scare her to death first.
Jack’s senses sharpened. The pounding of running feet following them continued, the sound of the men’s harsh breathing a signal to hurry.
“Emma,” he growled. “Into the water.”
Her face whitened noticeably. “No, I can’t swim.”
But he could since taniwhas were creatures of the water. “Climb on my back.” He had to concentrate to get the words out.
Emma hesitated but the crack of a gun firing galvanized her to action.
Jack jerked off his remaining clothes and waded into the water. “Come.” His voice was barely recognizable. He glanced back, and from the shock on Emma’s face knew that the transformation from man to taniwha had progressed enough to traumatize. Jack wanted to rail at fate but instead he grabbed Emma and tugged her resisting body out into deeper water.
Knowing his options were gone, he focused, picturing the serpent in his mind. Muscles and bones lengthened, his face changed, elongating to fit the sharp teeth and fangs that had developed. His nostrils changed shape, as did his eyes. A long tail formed, making him appear much larger than his normal six foot two. His arms and legs changed into strong, webbed limbs suitable for swimming. Fully shifted, the taniwha resembled a water beast, half dragon, half Loch Ness monster in appearance, capable of inflicting mortal wounds to enemies.
Conscious of Emma clinging to his back, Jack filled his lungs with air then swam just below the surface, allowing Emma to breath but hiding as much of her from sight as possible. Jack headed for the mainland, his heart heavy. Things would never be the same with Emma now. Her hands gripped him, but after her initial gasp, she hadn’t uttered a word. Shock, he thought. She would fear him now, and he hated the idea. Too late he’d realized he wanted her in his life. He shied away from the word love, but it felt uncomfortably close to the emotion he swore he’d never let into his life again.
* * * * *
Surreal. She was shooting through the water on the back of a beast. And that beast was Jack.
George Taniwha & Co.
Emma’s heart pounded in fear but exhilaration too. The taniwha part of the company name was real. She was riding on the back of a taniwha. Jack was a taniwha, and he stunk. She wrinkled her nose. Could be worse. Emma had glimpsed his teeth. The sharp fangs in children’s storybooks were not exaggerated.
A wave slapped her in the face. An undignified screech emerged, and she grabbed the long strands of hair that grew on the taniwha’s back, twining her fingers through it and using them like reins. Reality check! She was in the middle of the bloody sea. God, she hated deep water. Instinctively, she clung tighter, curling her fingers into the slimy flesh of the taniwha. Panic rose dangerously close to the surface but a glance over her shoulder at the three men brandishing guns put a realistic spin on the situation. She gripped Jack with her knees and squeezed her eyes shut. How fast did a taniwha swim anyway? Faster than a boat?
Emma concentrated on the mainland, praying they’d get there quick. She wondered about George and his sons. And George’s wife Meri. Were they all taniwha? Did they look as ugly as Jack? Another wave slapped her in the face and she gasped, inhaling deeply. A mistake. Did all taniwha smell as bad as Jack?
The taniwha changed direction suddenly, and Emma’s eyes flew open. Alarm surfaced until she realized Jack was heading for a part of the coast that was covered in bush. Heck, the moment when she could put her feet on the ground again couldn’t come soon enough. The waves became bigger all of a sudden. Emma shrieked when one broke over her head. Panicked, she struggled, one hand loosening its grip on the taniwha’s coarse hair to flail to the surface. Air. She needed air now.
A growl filled the air, vibrating through her ears like the boom of distant thunder. Then her head cleared the water and she gasped a lungful of air. Another wave crashed to shore but this one only came to her shoulders.
The taniwha swam then stood at the water’s edge. Emma attempted to scramble off the creature’s back but the taniwha roared. She froze, trying not to breathe too deeply. The stench was a combination of day-old fish and swamp mud.
The taniwha lumbered up the beach with Emma on its back. It was a pretty color—a bit like the inside of a mussel shell—pearly gray with hints of pink and green. The color was the only attractive thing about the taniwha. Emma found it hard to believe Jack and the taniwha were one. Jack was a man to die for. The taniwha was plain ugly and grotesque.
They crashed through low scrub and bush until Emma couldn’t see or hear the sea. The scrub gave way to larger trees—punga, karaka and manuka. The taniwha continued with its uneven lope, taking a small overgrown path. Ferns brushed against the taniwha and the leaf litter cracked under its feet, but Emma couldn’t hear a single bird. The taniwha—Jack—never hesitated. Gradually the shadows gave way and they emerged into a clearing. Jack stopped and Emma cautiously let go of his hair and slid down his slippery back to the ground. They eyed one another, but the taniwha broke contact first. He lumbered over to a punga and stripped several of the branches from the fern tree. After laying them on the ground, the taniwha turned to her and gestured with a clawed arm.
Okay. It appeared they were staying.
“I’m going to find help.” Emma turned to leave.
A roar echoed through the clearing. Like a clap of thunder directly overhead, it made Emma leap in fright. She took another step and the taniwha moved.
“All right,” she snapped. “I get the picture.” Maybe there was something of Jack in the taniwha. They were both bossy.
Emma sat on a fallen log and glared at the beast. Its mouth widened, and she could have sworn the taniwha was smirking.
Day passed to night and the temperature dropped. Emma shivered, fighting the need to sleep.
Suddenly the taniwha grunted. It ambled over to her side and scooped her off the log before she could scramble away.
“I don’t think—”
The taniwha growled and flashed its teeth.
“All right!” she muttered, screwing her nose up at the stench. He needed better dental hygiene.
The taniwha placed her on
the fern bed and lay down beside her.
“You smell,” Emma stated with a trace of defiance.
The taniwha grunted, and it sounded like a bark of amusement.
Emma rolled away from the taniwha and smiled. If only she could get used to the smell, there might be hope for them.
The twitter of birds woke her at first light the next morning. She rolled over, away from the clammy warmth to see the taniwha studying her warily.
“Morning,” she mumbled, self-consciously combing her fingers through her messy curls. “When do you change back? You do change back, right?”
The taniwha grunted. He seemed to do that a lot but Emma was no linguist. Each grunt sounded much the same.
The taniwha walked heavily toward a path the other side of the clearing then stopped to look at Emma.
She sighed. “All right. I’m coming.”
They walked for hours through heavy bush, scrambling up and down hills. By late afternoon Emma was footsore, tired and desperately hungry. When they reached a clearing and a bubbling stream, Emma stopped, refusing to go a step farther without rest. She glared at Jack, half expecting a thunderous protest, but he shrugged and strode into the stream, splashing like a playful child. Then he stepped out of the water and stood before her. His skin glowed in the sunshine. He shimmered.
Emma blinked as the air around him shifted. The length of his jaw changed before her eyes. “He’s transforming,” she whispered, amazement coloring her voice as his long tail disappeared.
Soon all that remained of the taniwha was the whiff of fish and mangrove mud that lingered in the air.
Jack took a cautious step toward Emma. She hadn’t behaved in the way he’d expected. She hadn’t screamed. Much. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“You make a very ugly taniwha.”
Jack scowled. “Is that it?”
A slow grinned danced across her face as she looked him up and down. “You’re stark naked.”
Reaction set in, making his knees wobble. Jack sank to the ground and continued to stare up at Emma. “The last woman who saw me in taniwha form panicked. She fled the scene and was so traumatized she crashed her car and died. It was my fault she died.”
Make That Man Mine Page 10
