by J. D. Tyler
Lips hitching up, he tugged her hand and they started off. As they entered the mouth of the trail, she forced her attention to a different kind of scenery.
“It really is beautiful here. I like to walk in the mornings if I get up in time, and I can’t imagine any place more scenic to get my exercise.”
“The trails are great for that purpose, but never venture out alone,” he said, his tone deadly serious. “The grizzlies have been really aggressive again this summer. There are also black bears, moose, and any number of dangers. If you went off alone and got hurt, we could find you by following your scent, but it might be too late.”
“I knew that, but it’s easy to forget that dangerous things can be found in pretty packages.”
He gave her an odd look. “Don’t I know it.”
Jax didn’t explain and she didn’t ask, though she was curious. She wondered what made the man tick, what pain lurked in his past. She sensed whatever rode him was more than losing his former life as a Navy SEAL, being turned into a shifter, though that was bad enough. Without being told, she knew it would take a lot more than a fledgling friendship and a few strolls in the woods to crack his armor.
Had any woman ever managed that feat before? Had there been anyone serious?
There wasn’t now, she decided, or he wouldn’t be holding her hand. There wouldn’t be this spark that threatened to ignite when they touched. Jax didn’t seem the sort of man to stray once he’d set his romantic course. If he ever did.
Did he date? Did he do hearts and flowers? No. This man would take and possess. He’d envelop his lover and have her drowning in such a way that she’d never want to come up for air. He’d be her air, demand everything of her, and she’d willingly give.
What nonsense! Daydreaming would never make the ultimate man of her fantasies emerge from the mist and carry her away to be delightfully ravaged until the end of their days.
Men like that didn’t exist, except in movies and books.
“This is one of my favorite spots,” he told her, pointing ahead to where the forest grew sparser. A small stream burbled, the sun catching the water tumbling over rocks. The area around it was green and lush, just right for lazing the day away.
Too bad they couldn’t. “Do you come here much?”
“Not as often as I’d like, but I get out here now and then, mostly when I go for a midnight run.”
She’d give anything to see his wolf in this enchanted place, in the moonlight. What would it be like to run with him, to be like him? Instead, she observed, “You told me not to come out alone, but you take the risk.”
“I have an advantage, don’t forget. The only creature that’s likely to bother me in wolf form is a human, and out here there’s little chance of that happening.”
“Still.” She huffed.
He turned to face her, stepping real close. “You worried about me?” Reaching out, he stroked the curve of her jaw with his fingers. She was too distracted to answer as he lowered his head. Took her mouth.
Fire. Sweet, unmerciful flames, licking at her as sure as his tongue slipping inside. Tasting, stroking. She pressed into the hard line of his body, savoring his full lips claiming hers. His earthy male scent drove her crazy, and she wanted more. Against her stomach, his erection came to life, plumped, grew long and stiff, burrowing in as though seeking what it wanted most.
Both hands framed her face and he explored, swirling his tongue, muscles bunching against her straining body. This man made kissing an erotic, seductive art form. No one else had ever compared to how damned good he felt. Right here, taking what he wanted.
Pulling back some, she opened her eyes. She wanted to see his face, and she wasn’t disappointed. He was as lost as she was to the moment, eyes closed, black lashes fanning on his cheeks like lace. Groaning, he opened his eyes and broke the kiss. The glaze of arousal lifted bit by bit, and his expression grew fierce.
“I can smell him on you,” he rasped. His lips pulled back some, showing his sharp canines. The same teeth that had killed those men.
“Wh-what?” she stammered.
“Aric. I smell him on you.”
This morning. Aric’s kiss. He was jealous! “Oh. Well, he’s a pretty good kisser.” Anger darkened his face and she figured teasing him on that issue wasn’t smart. “But he didn’t do a thing for me. Zip.”
He subsided some. “Oh? What about my kiss?”
She pretended to think about it. “Hmm. It was marginally better.” At his crestfallen look, she couldn’t keep up the charade. Grinning, she twined her arms around his strong neck. “I’m kidding. You sexy thing, that was the most wonderful toe-curling kiss I’ve ever had. Rocked my world.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He yanked her against him, hand splayed at her waist. Narrowing his eyes, he rumbled a warning. “Don’t let me smell him, or any man, on you again. I won’t be responsible for how my wolf reacts. I wouldn’t hurt you, but him? All bets are off.”
Swallowing hard, she could only nod, not certain how she felt about the mandate. Looking smug, he planted another steamy kiss on her mouth, stepped back and took her hand.
“Now, unfortunately, I have a meeting to get to.”
He walked her back to the compound, never letting go of her hand. She didn’t understand his reaction to Aric putting the moves on her, and had a feeling he didn’t, either.
“I don’t know what Nick will have us doing this afternoon, but I’ll see you later,” he promised, once they were inside.
“Sure. Later,” she managed. He swung around and she watched his fine ass sway back and forth in his jeans until he turned the corner.
Good God. Maybe a man from her fantasies could become a reality after all.
Five
Jaxon could barely concentrate as Nick moved to the front of the meeting room. His erection throbbed in time to the headache pounding at his temples. What in God’s name was wrong with him? Half an hour alone in Kira’s presence and he was ready to jump the woman and have his way.
Her scent was driving him insane. It was like he had a zillion ants crawling under his skin, the urge to mate her—fuck her until they were both limp and exhausted—almost a physical pain.
He’d been nuts to kiss her, much less make demands they weren’t ready for. Who was he kidding? He’d never be ready to settle down with any woman. Not after—no. She was a nightmare he would not revisit. The only purpose Beryl served now was as a fitting reminder of why he was alone. Why he would stay that way?
He’d take back what he said to Kira about staying away from other men. Tell her it was a mistake, which was the truth. It was as though someone else’s mouth had been saying the words, but he hadn’t been able to stop them.
But this itching under his skin was abominable. He had to find sexual relief ASAP. And not from his own hand. He needed to bury his cock in a hot, willing sheath and fuck until he couldn’t breathe any longer. It wouldn’t be Kira, no matter that the idea made his wolf whine in distress.
Any woman would have to do. Today, tomorrow night at the latest, he’d call on Jacee. She had never turned him away, and probably never would. He didn’t need Kira, just a sleek body, and he’d remind himself of that soon.
“Jax, are you with me?”
Jerking his head up, he found everyone’s attention on him. Great. Meeting Nick’s gaze, he schooled his face into a cool mask. The man saw far too much. “I’m sorry. I missed what you said.”
After shooting Jaxon a look of irritation, the older man started over. “We’ve got two cases Grant dropped on my desk early this morning. The first is a string of murders that have happened around Cody. Or more accurately, the bodies were dumped outside town, but the victims were killed elsewhere. The second is a guy who’s been hanging around the cemetery not far from where the bodies were found and is doing a bang-up job of making the locals nervous. Whether or not he’s responsible for the killings or knows anything about them, we don’t know, but
we’re going to find out.”
Zander spoke up. “Why’d we catch this? Sounds like a job for the sheriff’s office.”
Ryon smacked his friend on the back of the head. “Why do ya think, idiot? These aren’t just any bodies and this dude is no ordinary drifter. Otherwise, Grant wouldn’t have become involved.”
A few snickers ensued before Nick continued. “Correct. There have been four bodies discovered in shallow graves on the northeast border of the Shoshone, all within a few yards of one another. After the sheriff’s office and forensics went over the area, the county coroner was called out. He immediately ascertained what the cops suspected—all four bodies were in varying stages of decomposition, the most recent one dead only a few days.”
“They found a dumping ground,” Jaxon guessed.
“Right. All were men, approximate age range early twenties to early thirties. No IDs, and no men have been reported missing from Cody or the surrounding areas. In layman’s terms, the men were tortured to death. It appears they were kept in captivity—ligature marks on the wrists and ankles—and were malnourished. Scalpel marks and missing tissue from several areas of the body suggest they endured some kind of medical procedure.”
“Jesus,” Ryon whispered. At first Jaxon thought his friend was reacting to what Nick said. But his eyes were closed and his face had paled, his skin gray and clammy. “I don’t know what you want. I don’t understand.”
“Crap, somebody bring him back,” Aric blurted. It always unnerved the normally brash wolf when Ryon’s spirits came to call.
The sole Channeler and Telepath on the team, Ryon was often sought out by the dead beseeching him for help he didn’t know how to give. Like now.
Jaxon would take his ability as a RetroCog any day. He had no control over events that had already occurred, but at least he wasn’t barraged by dead people, and that suited him just fine.
Leaning close, he gripped his friend’s shoulder and shook gently. “Hey, buddy. Let them go, come on back.” The blond’s eyes fluttered open. “Ryon?”
“God, I hate when they blindside me,” he rasped. “Why can’t they get that there’s not a damned thing I can do to help them?”
“How many this time?” Nick asked, frowning.
“Two. They were yelling at me, but as usual, the words were garbled. One kept pointing at you, like he was all worked up by what you were telling us.”
“One of the four victims?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. You got photos?”
“Not yet. Grant is sending them by e-mail shortly.”
“Okay.” Ryon rubbed his temples.
“You all right?”
“I’m fine. Not gonna toss my cookies or anything. Sorry about that, guys.”
Hammer thumped him on the back. “Give yourself a break, man. It’s all good.” From the quiet one of the bunch, it was practically a speech.
Nick got the meeting on track again, keeping a wary eye on Ryon. “So the coroner determines cause of death. Imagine his surprise to discover the men weren’t human.”
Aric whistled through his teeth. “Let the fun begin.”
“No shit.” This from Zan.
“Shifters?” Jaxon wondered aloud. His mind drifted to the suspicions Kira had shared with him and Nick, and the gene/DNA report she’d read. Nick’s eyes met his, and Jaxon knew his boss was thinking the same thing, though how they could be related was a mystery.
“Bingo. To say the coroner got excited is an understatement. Thank Christ Sheriff Deveraux is in our loop and got to the man before he had the chance to blab the news to everyone he knew. Deveraux called Grant, and now we’re ‘assisting’ the sheriff’s office in the investigation. Off the record, of course.”
“Who’s got the bodies?” Zan asked.
“Melina and her team will have them as of this morning, when they pick them up from the coroner. We’ll be able to learn a lot more about the victims after they conduct some tests, much more than a few crime scene pics will tell us.”
Aric leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the table. “This is all real fascinating, but I don’t see what we can do here. I mean, point me at a demon or whatever and I’ll smoke it. Fuck, we’re soldiers, not detectives.”
“Well, it looks like you’ll have to be both,” Nick snapped. “Unless you’ve got another Paranormal Black Ops team on speed dial to take this mess off our hands. No? Didn’t think so.”
Aric shut his trap, but shook his head, his displeasure clear.
Nick parked his ass on the corner of the table. “Our advantage is our Psy skills. We’ll use all of our resources to get a lead on what happened to these poor guys, and why. Which brings us to the drifter in the cemetery. Witnesses report he’s young, early to midtwenties, with collar-length black hair. Deveraux personally ran him off night before last. Said he’s very Goth, wears a heavy silver pentagram, three studs in each ear, black eyeliner, and a black leather duster. Translation—he ain’t from Wyoming.”
That got a good laugh from everyone.
“All kidding aside, in light of the discovery of the bodies and their proximity to the cemetery, he’s a person of interest. Deveraux got his name—Kalen Black. Go figure. If the bodies had been found at the time, he would’ve held the guy for questioning. Tonight we’ll stake out the cemetery, see if he shows. If he doesn’t, we’ll ask around and try to pin down where he might’ve gone. We’ll leave at sunset. Questions?”
No one had any, and Jaxon made himself scarce before anyone could ask him where he was going. Hell, this was supposed to be their weekend off, and that had sure been shot to shit, hadn’t it? He was entitled to some of the R & R they’d all been forced to abort last night, and he didn’t feel one bit guilty about taking his due or not inviting his friends to ride into Cody. They were big boys.
And where he was going, he didn’t need any tagalongs.
Instead of taking one of the team’s black Mercedes SUVs, he jumped onto his baby—a sleek silver and dark blue Honda Shadow ACE 750, a big, bad boy with plenty of power for the road. Aric and Zan were Harley men, but in Jaxon’s opinion the brand was overrated. Appalled, the other two declared that was just “un-American.” It was a friendly debate they kept going while tinkering in the garage and flexing their muscles, so to speak.
Slipping on his shades, Jaxon took the winding road away from the compound, relishing the wind in his face, raking cool fingers through his hair. Wearing a helmet would’ve been the smart thing, regardless of the fact that adults in Wyoming weren’t required to, but he was feeling a little reckless. Even a shifter couldn’t heal from his brains being splattered all over the pavement, but for a while he simply wanted to feel free. Not trapped by rules and regs.
Not to mention by his own nature.
The miles slipped away and he roared into Cody more relaxed. But no less aroused. The purr of the machine between his legs hadn’t helped, but he was going to get that remedied very soon.
Forcing himself not to think about how he’d gotten into this state, or who was responsible, he turned onto the familiar street in the older neighborhood and turned up a weed-choked driveway as he’d done several times before. An ugly thought crept in and he tamped it down with an effort.
He was not using Jacee. Hell, she got every bit as much satisfaction from their scorching interludes as he did. All she had to do was say no and order him not to come around anymore, and he wouldn’t. No big deal. But she never once had.
So he parked behind her Focus, shut off the engine, and strode to the door. Fist raised, he hesitated, and then knocked, ignoring the greasy feeling in his gut. It was probably his breakfast refusing to settle. Eggs messed with his stomach sometimes.
When Jacee opened up wearing a big smile and stepped aside to let him in, he pushed everything but her from his mind. As she locked the door, he took in her skintight jeans and the snug white top with spaghetti straps that rode just above her midriff and showed off her flat, toned belly. She wore no bra toda
y, and the white cotton hugged full breasts, dark nipples clearly outlined underneath. They puckered under his hungry gaze, anticipating what was to come.
“Wonder what brings you to my humble abode, hmm?” Stalking him like a cat, the brunette stepped up and pressed her lush body against his, twining her arms around his neck. Her full breasts were squashed against his chest and her crotch rode his erection, grinding into him suggestively.
“What do you think, gorgeous?” he replied teasingly. “You got a problem with that?”
“Do I ever?” Her voice was like whiskey, smooth and dangerous. “Damn, it’s been too long.”
His body responded and he captured her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside. She was a tall woman, so he didn’t have to bend his head to enjoy the kiss. She was all curves, built like an Amazon, arms strong from tending bar and tossing out drunken patrons at work. She was tough, rough, sexual, and liked her men the same.
So unlike pretty little Kira.
The thought was so unwelcome, he broke the kiss in reflex and stared into Jacee’s brown eyes. They were smoky with lust as she grinned and palmed the rod in his jeans, stroking it.
“Why don’t we get right to the good stuff?”
He chuckled. “What, no stimulating conversation? Maybe I want to talk about my week.”
She snorted. “Since when? If you want to talk, I’m obviously doing something wrong. Come with me and I’ll cure that for you, hot stuff.”
Taking his hand, she pulled him through the tiny living room into her bedroom, which wasn’t much bigger. But it was large enough for the king-sized bed they’d put through the paces in the past.
Stopping beside the bed, she grabbed the edges of the minuscule top and slowly pulled it over her head, revealing her bare breasts. As she tossed it aside, curtains of dark hair tumbled past her shoulders and framed them the way she knew he liked. They bobbed, begging for his mouth, and he obliged, cupping them both and lifting their weight in his palms. He suckled each nipple, scraped gently with his teeth.
