“I need to use the bathroom.” Marisol stated after a bit.
“Fine come on.”
Marisol headed to the cage door, she noted that it was a simple turn latch not a lock like the one on her cell and filed that information away for later.
Suddenly teeth wrapped around her good forearm.
The guards gasped.
Marisol tensed up as she looked down at the massive beast with her arm in its mouth. All it would take is a bit of pressure and he could snap her bones. Jag didn’t break the skin though, instead he insistently pulled her back from the door. The big cat didn’t want her to leave.
“You need to put the chain on so we can hold him.” A guard demanded.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen. He really didn’t like it.” Marisol shook her head. She wasn’t about to let them chain Jag again, she didn’t care if she was forced to stay here and had to pee in the corner of the cage while they all watched.
Minutes later after some cajoling Marisol was walking with a giant black cat at her side while six guards stood thirty feet away holding their guns at ready.
“Mierda! El Patron is going to kill us.”
Marisol heard one of the men say as they headed to the bunker. Jag behaved as long as the men kept their distance. She looked down at the wild feline. He stood taller than her hips, about three feet high. If he stood up on his hind legs he’d dwarf her, and was likely a hundred pounds heavier at least. Jag had broad strong shoulders and she was sure he likely took down and carried prey bigger than she was in the wild. What an unlikely duo they made.
“I bet I could ride you like a small pony.” Marisol mused out loud.
Trip
Trip agreed with Marisol. She was tiny enough she probably could easily ride him. The thought of the dark skinned beauty riding him had his interest peaked. Of course the way he pictured her straddling him wasn’t exactly what she meant.
Trip kept his attention on the guards and the courtyard they traversed but it was no small task since he found Marisol’s scent increasingly alluring. The longer he spent with her the deeper she seemed to burrow under his skin. His animal side had claimed her making it difficult, nay impossible resisting the urge to rub up against her. In fact Trip hadn’t done such a great job resisting. More than a few times now Trip had come to his senses as his head rubbed along the side of Marisol’s hip a scant breadth from burrowing his face into the junction of her thighs. The problem was, as a man Trip found Marisol distractingly attractive, and so as his feline self it showed. His jaguar had no reason, no need to repress his wants or desires so he didn’t.
“Ugh” Trip shook his head. He had to get out of this collar before he found himself attempting to mount her.
As they entered the piece of shit barracks Trip stood between the men and Marisol as she ventured into the disgusting bathroom that lacked a door, or even a toilet seat. The nasty bastards could’ve hosed it out occasionally. Trip’s nose wrinkled from the smell of filth. He wasn’t squeamish, he was a dude, and an animal at that and still this ranked as pathetic.
Trip guarded the open doorway while Marisol quickly did her business. She then attempted to wash up, and got a good long drink of water from the dilapidated sink.
Trip trotted over and stuck his head into the basin. Marisol kindly turned on the water till he backed up satisfied. Before leaving the room Trip stared at the guards as he pissed on the floor by the toilet.
“Serves the nasty bastards right.” Trip thought with a huff.
“We should put her back in her old cell” One of the guards said as they moved down the hall with small rooms flanking either side.
Hearing this Marisol instinctively stepped closer to his side. Trip herded Marisol back out of the building staying between her and the men, eyeing each one if they moved even a fraction too close. Trip refused to give the guards opportunity to somehow corner and separate her from him.
The guards wisely kept their distance as they made their way back to the warehouse. Although it wasn’t where they’d intended the guards happily closed the cage door behind Trip and Marisol breathing a group sigh of relief.
“You are safe - for now.” Trip smiled inwardly and would’ve chuckled if able.
The best thing about the fighting cage wasn’t just the lack of a lock, but the fact there weren’t that many guards watching over the warehouse.
Come nightfall he had plans to get the two of them out of here.
Marisol sat down so Trip sprawled out beside her on the ground. Soon she started talking to him like he was a man. Marisol petted his back as she traced in the dirt with a stick. It was a pleasant way to spend the day.
Marisol
Marisol couldn’t help having diarrhea of the mouth.
“I lived most of my life at the base of Mount Tlaloc. I bet you live in the jungle not far from there huh? That makes us neighbors.”
She traced a circle in the dirt with squiggly lines radiating out from it. A large black paw captured the end of the stick. Marisol pulled the twig back only to have Jag bat it gently again.
“You want to play?”
Jag bit at the end of the stick and tugged. Mother Mary his teeth were massive.
“I am so glad you are my friend.” Marisol’s mouth quirked up at the corners as Jag gingerly gnawed inches from her fingers.
Feeling bold she yanked the stick back then tossed it across the pen. Jag leapt snatching it up mid-air so fast Marisol gasped in shock at his burst of speed. He swaggered back looking proud of himself as he dropped the stick back in her lap. They repeated their game for a bit.
Marisol laughed tickled by how goofy and playful Jag was. She was starting to wonder if maybe he wasn’t someones exotic pet that had gotten loose. He was just too sweet to be wild. Forgetting caution Marisol grabbed Jag’s face in both her palms and scratched at his ears.
The feline playfully butted her chest with his forehead. Marisol fell back and found herself laying caged beneath the massive beast. Jag’s golden eyes pinned hers, his muzzle inches from her face and she froze.
Trip
Trip smelled her concern and realized what he was doing. He’d gotten caught up in their play and lost himself.
Marisol’s eyes were wide as she lay still beneath him. He sniffed taking in her floral scent along with her unease. He just couldn’t help himself as his tongue lolled out and ran from the base of Marisol’s neck up to her cheek. Her taste burst on his tongue a symphony of flavors.
The sudden lyrical mirth that erupted from Marisol had Trip purring. As he rolled onto his back Trip saw the guard pointing a gun at him standing at the edge of the cage. Trip paused. He didn’t growl since it appeared the young man thought he was attacking Marisol.
“He was just playing.” Marisol said as she moved in front of Trip’s head in an effort to protect him.
“Senorita he is too big he can accidentally hurt you.”
“I’d take accidental injury over intentional any day.” Marisol replied tersely.
Trip snorted in approval, feeling proud that despite Marisol’s unease earlier she trusted him.
The guard shook his head and walked away. He was a young man, probably a little bad ass around his friends but it seemed he had no interest in hurting Marisol by the way he behaved. Of course he didn’t free her either. In the end if the man was here when they made their escape he’d fall like anyone else.
Trip needed this fucking collar off first though. He extended a claw and put it up through the collar tugging at it.
“You want that nasty collar off?” Marisol crooned.
Trip could’ve licked Marisol for how quickly she picked up what he desired. Her hands reached around his neck and unbuckled the thing.
“Oh this is awful.” She exclaimed as she looked at it.
The collar had nasty barbs that dug into his skin when yanked. Trip resisted the instant desire to shift. Instead he head butted Marisol and reveled in her massaging finger on his sore neck.
>
“I bet that feels good. My mother used to give my father back rubs especially after long days in the field.” Marisol’s eyes darkened with sorrow. “They killed my father.” She whispered as tears welled up in her eyes. Trip couldn’t wait to get her the hell out of here.
“They would’ve killed me weeks ago if it weren’t for my gift. Its the reason we lived so far from town. I guess this has taught me how to control myself better.” She laughed a humorless sound.
Trip perked up wondering what it was Marisol was talking about, but the way her fingers worked over his neck then drifted up to his ears had him quickly forgetting.all but her touch.
Trip groaned as he repressed the desire to turn his head and take another taste of Marisol. The sheer white dress she wore had ridden up exposing her creamy tan legs just past her knee. A simple twist of his head and he could run his tongue along her thigh.
“Shit I need to get it together.” Trip reprimanded himself.
The evening seemed to drag along. The sounds of the guards eating and drinking outside persisted long past dark. Men came and went to see if he’d mauled Marisol yet making the number of people in the warehouse unpredictable. Marisol eventually fell asleep her head resting on his side. A few hours later, deep in the night the guard at the door, reeking of beer, also nodded off.
The time had come to act.
Trip eased away from Marisol before shifting. He stood up cautiously and stretched. Trip rolled his neck, flexed his arms and pulled one knee up to his chest followed by the other. He nearly moaned in pleasure and pain as his body protested returning to it human form. Annoyingly his claws and fangs refused to recede, his primal side still sensing the danger that was prevalent all around them.
Trip strode over to the cage door. He eased the latch back and opened the door a crack. It creaked and he paused looking first to the guard and then back at Marisol. He sighed in relief as he eased through the opening.
Trip stalked quietly towards the sleeping guard by the door. He approached the man from his back sticking to the shadows.
The man cracked open his eyes and glanced towards Trip, his innate sense of self preservation alerting him to the approaching danger, but it was too late. Trip lunged forward, wrapped his fingers around the man’s head and twisted, silencing the guard before he cried out. The crunching sound seemed loud in the silent warehouse as the man’s neck broke.
Trip eased the body to the floor then tested the warehouse door. It wasn’t locked. “Good.”
Trip looked left then right outside noting the closest man was at the opposite end of the property watching the big house. If his sense of smell had been accurate the guard would circle round the perimeter closest to the warehouse and then there’d be a fifteen minute gap before he’d catch scent of the next guard. Of course the more drunk the guard the slower they moved.
Marisol
Marisol roused a bit. With bleary eyes she decided she was dreaming as the image of a man replaced her new feline friend. The man kneeling on the ground was tan with broad muscular chest and shoulders that flexed as he rose up tall. His unruly short hair was the same raven black as Jag’s fur.
Marisol’s eyes traveled lower and she realized the dream man was completely nude, his body covered in tattoos.
There were various designs mainly covering his arms and pecs. She couldn’t quite make them out as he moved. He turned his back to Marisol and her eyes settled on the large black jaguar tattoo that stretched from his shoulder down to his opposite hip. Marisol knew she was dreaming when she saw the muscles on his butt flex. No one had rear end that nice!
Marisol’s eyes drifted shut again only to be awakened by Jag butting her with his head. She sat up groggily. Jag nudged her again and looked towards the cage door. Marisol’s eyes widened.
“You clever beast.” She whispered as she saw the open cage. Jag started towards the opening but Marisol tugged on his tail. “The guard!”
She looked to see the man laying by the warehouse entrance.
“Is he drunk?”
Marisol inched towards the cage door as Jag pushed impatiently at her. The guard didn’t move so she got bolder. As they got closer she could see the man’s head hung at an odd angle. Her eyes flew to Jag, but the cat gave nothing away. Of course he wouldn’t act upset he was a predator after all. The guard was a bad man, and Jag saw him as a threat. Jungle rules. Problem solved.
Marisol held her breath as she eased open the door and peeked out. She closed it quickly seeing a guard at the house facing their direction. She waited and cracked it open again. The man had moved further along and faced the other way.
Jag pushed his way past her and headed the opposite direction stealthily moving around the corner of the warehouse. Marisol followed, knowing Jag had better instinct than she did. Occasionally he stopped and sniffed the air then continued.
After they safely cleared the warehouse and a small shed Jag stopped and looked pointedly at her then at his back. He hunkered down low to the ground then glanced towards his back again.
“You seriously want me to get on your back?”
Marisol almost choked when Jag nodded. Holy shit she was losing her mind!
Marisol looked around hesitantly. She could either do this and trust fate, in spite of how bizarre this was, or stay behind and die. Marisol shook her head in amazement as she put one leg over the beast and wrapped her arms around his furry neck.
Jag started out slow but picked up the pace as she settled in. This was nothing like riding a horse. Marisol watched with mounting trepidation as they rapidly approached an eight foot high barb wire fence. She tightened her grip, feeling the muscles of his legs start to bunch beneath her.
“Oh sweet Mother Mary.” She closed her eyes in prayer.
The wind whipped through her hair as she felt them leave the earth. Marisol cracked her eyes open and gaped in amazement just as Jag gracefully touched down on the other side of the high fence and continued running without nearly a pause in stride.
No sooner had they cleared the fence then Marisol heard shouting in the compound they just vacated. Jag just moved faster heading not in the direction of the distant treeline but towards Mexico City.
Marisol heard shots being fired and ducked her head low against Jag’s neck. He wove through the brush filled craggy landscape using the natural cover, darting quickly towards some goal. She was glad the jaguar had such keen night vision since she could only make out dim shadows. Marisol was able to discern enough to see that the smart cat had descended into a dry riverbed leading away from the hacienda. They followed until the crevasse meandered a different direction.
When they emerged the shooting continued, accompanied by the sound of trucks. A bullet ricocheted nearby throwing up a spray of dirt. The headlights cast their beams into the night. One of the vehicles was gaining on them the roar of engines getting louder.
Marisol sent out the biggest burst of energy she could muster and all the headlights went dead. She could still hear at least one truck approaching but now he was firing blind. Jag wove making it difficult for the remaining pursuer to track them.
Something suddenly struck her leg. Marisol muffled a cry against Jag’s neck.
She held on tight biting back the pain as they continued to run. Her thigh burned but thankfully the sound of the lone engine and firing grew distant.
Trip
Marisol held on like a champ despite how fast he traveled, dodging the weapon fire and the trucks. At one point they’d gotten extremely lucky when all but one vehicle dropped back. That left only the old model truck, and it couldn’t follow where he traveled, the terrain was too rugged.
Trip could see the lights from the town where he’d left his truck and headed that way.
Halfway there Marisol’s grip loosened despite her interlaced fingers. She started to slip and Trip was forced to stop. The moment he came to a halt she groaned and slid to the ground. Trip sniffed the air and immediately scented Marisol’s blood.
> “Shit shit shit!”
He nuzzled her till he found the spot on her thigh. A bullet had grazed her high up on her thigh. It wasn’t lethal but in her weakened state it had been enough to knock her out. They were lucky she’d held on this long. Marisol was a strong determined woman.
Trip shifted back into his human form, there was no avoiding it. He’d just have to face Marisol’s hysterics later. He tore a strip from the hem of her white dress and bound the wound to stop the bleeding. Trip then gingerly picked Marisol up and continued his trek.
4 In the Arms of a Jaguar God
Marisol
Marisol’s eyes fluttered open. She was so exhausted she couldn’t seem to focus. Using too much of her gift often did that.
Marisol looked up, the man from her strange dream had returned. In the dim moonlight she could make out his chiseled jaw and the glow of his golden brown eyes, as he stared forward intently. He couldn’t possibly be real.
Marisol recalled a story her grandmother had once told her about the Jaguar God. Was that who had rescued her? The large black feline, Jag, had been impossibly intelligent.
Marisol felt like she was floating. No, the Jaguar God carried her in his strong arms, cradling her against his chest. She was too tired from everything that had happened to tease out reality from myth. So instead she snuggled close to the mythical man and let herself drift off again. As she fell back into oblivion Marisol mumbled a native prayer she once overheard her Abuela recite. It was a prayer of thanks to the old gods for looking out for her.
Trip
“Of course the piece of shit truck is missing. Why wouldn’t it be.” Trip cursed. He’d been gone for god only knows how long.
Marisol was barely a burden but the harrowing chase through the barren landscape had exhausted him and was hard on his feet. He was naked and needed to find cover for them fast before daylight approached.
Trip moved towards a nicer looking neighborhood. He found an unlocked shed and deposited Marisol’s sleeping form inside.
He shifted into his Jaguar and took off to scope out the various homes. Eventually he came to one that seemed unoccupied. Trip broke in to find what looked like a vacation home since sheets covered the furniture.
Charge: A Motorcycle Club, Shifter, Romance (Shifting Steel Book 2) Page 4
