Rise of the Jaguar

by Elizabeth Kelly

  For the first time in her life, she felt like she was in a relationship where her eyes were wide open, where she didn’t have to fool herself or the others around her into believing she’d made the right choice.

  She was meant to be with Clay, and he was meant to be with her. Even if he didn’t realize it yet.

  He was staring patiently at her with no sign of distress on his face, but she could smell his anxiety and feel the nervous thrum in his body. She cupped his face and threw caution to the wind. “You are exactly the man I want you to be, Clay.”

  She could see the shock on his face even if she didn’t smell it on his scent. He looked away from her, his hands tightening on her hips as he swallowed compulsively. “You don’t mean that.”

  She pressed on his jaw until he was looking at her again. “I mean it.”

  He studied her for long moments before kissing her hard on the mouth. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and returned his kiss, not objecting to his overwhelming intensity or the way his fingers dug into her flesh.

  Relief and a frantic type of giddiness poured off of him, drowning out the scent of his lust for her. He pushed away and stripped off his clothes before pulling her clothes off in a rapid and trembling manner that was the opposite of his usual slow and methodical approach to stripping away her clothes.

  He pushed her to the bed and immediately kissed his way down her body, stopping to tease her nipples into stiff and aching buds before trailing a path of kisses across her flat stomach to the top of her mound. He nuzzled the small patch of hair at the top before stretching out on his stomach between her open thighs. She spread her legs wide and smoothed her hand through his hair, purring and trilling to him as he stared up at her with those gorgeous blue eyes that saw straight to the heart of who she was.

  At the first touch of his tongue against her clit, she moaned his name and arched her hips, her hand pressing against the back of his skull and her toes digging into the bed.

  His urgency had disappeared, and he was agonizingly slow in teasing her. She purred and moaned and cried his name, begging him for her pleasure like a junkie looking for their next fix. He used his tongue and mouth to push her higher and higher until she screamed her release, her body shaking, and a thousand glittering lights exploding into life behind her closed eyes.

  Quivering and purring raggedly, she felt Clay kneel between her legs, his warm hands caressing her thighs as he positioned himself at her opening.

  “Emerson, look at me.” His voice was a low rasp that made her trill weakly. “Look at me, baby.”

  She blinked open her eyes, her thighs still trembling under the soft strokes of his hands, her pussy empty and aching despite her recent climax. He smiled at her, his gaze never leaving her face as he entered her with one slow push.

  A small trickle of worry wormed its way inside of her. Until now, she’d never allowed Clay to be on top. She didn’t want his back vulnerable to her claws. She pressed on his chest when he lowered himself down. “Clay, maybe I should be on top again.”

  “No,” he said. “You won’t hurt me, baby. Will you?”

  She blinked back the sudden tears and shook her head. “I’ll never hurt you, my mate.”

  He smiled, and she gasped his name and clutched at his hips when he lowered himself down to his forearms, pushing into her to the hilt and sliding his hands under her shoulders. His lean and muscular body was the perfect fit against hers from chest to hips as they kissed deeply. He released her mouth and moved his hips slowly, watching her intently as he slid in and out, the pleasure he took from her body etched into every part of his face.

  She met him stroke for stroke, running her hands up and down the broad expanse of his back. Her brief worry that she would dig her claws into his fragile flesh had disappeared. Clay was hers, her mate to love and protect, and she would never hurt him.

  She purred to him, and his slow and unhurried rhythm quickened. She urged him on with low purrs and soft trills, watching his face as he moved within her. When his release washed over him, his gaze went hazy, but he didn’t look away. His eyes were filled with an emotion that made her jaguar trill with delight.

  She purred again when he groaned her name, stroking his back from shoulders to hips as he collapsed on top of her and buried his face in her throat. He was heavy, but she didn’t mind. When he tried to move, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pinned him to her, purring and trilling to her mate until he relaxed again.

  She didn’t release him until he had softened inside of her, and even then, she mourned the loss of his hard strength when he eased off of her and relaxed on his back next to her. He tugged at her arm, and she rolled to her side and curled into him. He put his arm around her, and she listened to the slow beat of his heart beneath her ear.

  Despite her orgasm and how late it was, she wasn’t the least bit tired. Clay didn’t seem to be tired either. He rubbed her back with long and lazy strokes. She kissed his chest and said, “Will you tell me why you became a mercenary?”

  His hand hesitated before continuing to sweep along her back. She waited for him to refuse, maybe even ask her to leave, but instead, he said, “Do you remember me telling you that Owen got his powers at thirteen, but I didn’t get mine until I was fifteen?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was a skinny and weak teenager. I was a late bloomer to puberty and almost nineteen before I hit the normal growth spurt. Up until then, Owen was taller and heavier than me, even though he was younger. We both liked to read and play chess, and we were big into gaming. Neither of us was ever really into sports. We were…”

  She lifted her head and smiled at him. “Nerds?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. Me more so than Owen.”

  She studied his face. The room was dark, with the only light coming from the pale moonlight, but she could see every feature easily. “I find that hard to believe. You’re so… not a nerd.”

  He laughed again, some of the tension easing from his face. She purred happily and kissed his chest before resting her cheek on it again. She waited patiently for him to continue, and after a moment, he said, “I might have been a late bloomer, but I was a normal teenage boy when it came to girls. There was a girl at my school, her name was Erin, and I was head over fucking heels for her. Of course, I didn’t stand a chance with her.”

  “Was she the popular cheerleader type dating the head jock?” Emerson said.

  “Yeah, only she wasn’t dating the head jock. She was dating this guy named Rodney Barkin. He was almost thirty.”

  “What?” She sat up and stared at him. “She was in high school.”

  “She was eighteen, just barely, but she was of age. Not that it makes it right, but nothing about Rodney was right. The guy was fucked up, Em. Since he was twelve, he’d been in and out of juvie, and he’d done four years in prison for armed robbery. But there were plenty of rumours going around.”

  “About what?”

  “That he’d killed at least three people. He ran with a guy named Igor for a couple of years before he went to prison, and Igor was the real fucking deal. He had ties to a Russian mob and -”

  “Wait, are you talking about Igor Novikov?” Emerson said. “The Russian mobster who was killed in that police stand-off a few years ago?”

  “Yeah,” Clay said, his face grim. “That Igor Novikov.”

  “Holy shit,” Emerson said.

  “Anyway, this Rodney guy did some work for Igor before he went to prison for armed robbery, and while it had never actually been proved, we all knew Rodney was a murderer.”

  “Why was Erin dating this guy?” Emerson said.

  Clay shrugged. “I don’t know. But I used to have these little fantasies where I would save her from him, you know? Like, she would realize what a bad guy he was and come to me for help. And then I’d beat the shit out of Rodney, and we’d live happily ever after.”

  He made a snorting sound. “I was a real fucking idiot as a teenager.”

 
; She leaned over and kissed his chest. “We all were, honey. It’s called out-of-control hormones.”

  “I’d spent about three months following her around the school like a love-struck puppy. I thought I was subtle about it, but I wasn’t. Everyone in her circle, including Erin, knew I had a crush on her.”

  He was staring up at the ceiling, and she rubbed his chest lightly. He took a deep breath. “Erin thought it was cute that this skinny little fifteen-year-old had a crush on her. She started to … to be nice to me. She’d stop in the hallways and talk to me, or she’d sit with me in the cafeteria during lunch. I’d help her with her homework sometimes, and she’d,” he swallowed hard, “thank me with a little kiss on the cheek, or she’d let her tits press up against my shoulder while I showed her how to do a fucking fraction. My parents gave me a cell phone for my birthday, and she started texting me once or twice a day. Just random shit, but occasionally she’d send me a picture of her tits or her ass and then pretend like she’d made a mistake and meant to send it to Rodney.”

  His body had turned to stone against hers. Emerson kissed his chest and purred to him until he relaxed. She rubbed his chest as he stared at her, his voice hoarse. “I thought Erin liked me, you know? I’d convinced myself that the things she said and did weren’t just her having some fun with a dumb, smitten kid but that she really liked me. I was so fucking stupid.”

  “Stop it,” Emerson said. “You weren’t stupid. You had a crush, one that an older woman took advantage of, and, frankly, she should have been arrested for sending naked pictures to a minor. You were only fifteen, Clay, and she was technically an adult.”

  “Rodney found out about my crush on her.”

  Emerson tensed, her hand pressing against Clay’s sternum. “How?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. Maybe Erin told him, or maybe he saw me when I rode past her house on my bike for the millionth fucking time. Either way, he didn’t think it was cute or adorable.”

  The tension and anxiety in him were rising, and this time she had to purr to him for nearly five minutes before it eased. When he didn’t say anything, she took his hand, trying not to wince when he squeezed it tight. “What happened, honey?”

  His face paled, and he looked away from her, staring at the ceiling again. “It was a Friday night, and Owen and I were riding our bikes home from a friend’s house. It was almost midnight, and our mother was pissed at us for not being home yet. Our curfew was eleven. She’d already texted me four times, and the last one said we were both grounded if we didn’t get our asses home in the next five minutes. So, we took a shortcut and went over Gateway Bridge. Do you know which bridge I’m talking about?”

  Emerson nodded. “Yeah, they just tore it down last year because it couldn’t handle the traffic volume anymore. They built a new four-lane bridge further down the river, Kat said.”

  “That’s right. Anyway, at that time, Gateway Bridge was barely used. They hadn’t built the freeway yet, so it was mostly local traffic that used it. We were about halfway across the bridge when a car pulled onto it. It was Rodney. I don’t know if he’d been following me or if it was just dumb luck, but he pulled up onto the sidewalk right in front of us.”

  He swallowed hard. “I was so fucking scared, Em. Rodney climbed out of the car in his leather jacket and dirty jeans with a cigarette in his mouth and a pissed off look on his face. He had one of those old-fashioned hair-styles, a slicked back Elvis look, and I remember thinking how greasy it looked in the light from the streetlamps.”

  His body trembled lightly, but he didn’t seem to hear it when she purred to him. “I told Owen to ride back toward our friend’s house, but he refused. I screamed at him to go and said I would be right behind him, but I barely had my feet back on the pedals before Rodney grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me off my bike.”

  Her heart hurting at the pain on his face, she continued to stroke his chest with her free hand as he said, “Rodney wasn’t a big guy but, as I said, I was a late bloomer and a fucking scrawny little chicken. He shook me around and shoved Owen away when Owen tried to attack him. Owen fell on the ground, and he started to cry. I started to cry too. I was so scared I thought I’d wet my fucking pants.”

  “Oh, honey,” Em said.

  “Rodney punched me twice in the face and broke my nose. Blood poured out of it, a flood of it soaked up by my shirt. Owen screamed for help, but there was no one. Not one fucking person drove across that bridge. Rodney told me that no one went near his woman, not even a little pansy kid like me. Then he punched me in the ribs and pushed me up against the guardrail of the bridge, and then he…”

  “Then he what?” Icy tendrils wound their way down Emerson’s spine.

  “He pulled out a gun.” Clay’s voice was barely audible. “He pulled out a gun, and he pressed it against my forehead, and he told me that he would kill me if I even looked at his girl again.”

  “Oh my God,” Emerson said. “Clay, that’s…”

  “I wet my pants.” Clay’s voice took on a distant dead tone that terrified Emerson. “I was so scared that I pissed my pants. My bladder let go as I stared up at Rodney with that fucking gun against my forehead and his stinking breath washing over me. He still had the cigarette in his mouth, and when some ash fell on my hand, I cringed. He grinned and said that maybe if I only had one eye, I wouldn’t spend so much time staring at what belonged to him.”

  Emerson’s jaguar trilled and called desperately to her mate. The fear rolling off of Clay was sending her over the edge.

  Shh, sweet one. Shh, he’s okay. We’ll protect him from now on. No one will ever hurt our mate again.

  Her jaguar calmed a little and retreated. Her breath shallow and quick, Emerson tried to stay calm as well, as Clay said, “He took the cigarette, and he held it near my eye. I could hear Owen freaking the fuck out behind me, but I couldn’t look away from that burning cigarette.”

  Clay sat up and leaned against the headboard, staring at her with haunted eyes. “He held it so close that it burned the tips of my eyelashes, Em. I didn’t even realize they’d burned until the next day.”

  He swallowed and rested the back of his head against the headboard, his hand squeezing hers compulsively. “I was sobbing, snot and blood running out my nose, begging and pleading and hysterically promising I would never look at Erin again. Rodney laughed and ground out the cigarette before he said, ‘Just kidding, kid, I ain’t gonna burn your eye out. But I am gonna shoot you in the fucking kneecap.’ He meant it too. I could see it in his fucking eyes.”

  Clay’s skin had turned translucent and dark shadows had appeared under his eyes. “He pressed the gun against my knee, and then Owen he… he said something to Rodney.”

  “What did he say?” Em whispered.

  “Shoot yourself in the head, Rodney.” Clay’s voice was dull and lifeless. “Rodney immediately pressed the gun against his temple and pulled the trigger. Owen had… pushed him.”

  She crowded up next to Clay, leaning against the headboard and putting her arm across his chest. He stared blankly across the room. “Rodney died instantly. He collapsed against the side of the guardrail like a broken toy. He was halfway over the guardrail, and I… I turned and looked at Owen, and he looked at me, and then we grabbed his legs and shoved him over the bridge into the river.”

  She purred quietly, rubbing her face over and over against his shoulder and his throat, marking him with her scent to keep her jaguar calm and to give Clay a moment to collect himself.

  “Owen and I got on our bikes and rode home. We left Rodney’s car running on the sidewalk and just booked it the fuck out of there. Our mother nearly lost her mind when she saw my face. I told her I’d fallen off my bike and landed face-first on the pavement. She took me to the ER, and they set my nose and sent me home. Owen was already in bed, but after Mom and Dad went to bed, I snuck into his room. I knew he’d be awake.”

  “What did he say?” Emerson said.

  A tear slid down
Clay’s cheek. Emerson wiped it away as he said, “He was… he was in a bad way, Em. I could practically see the guilt all over his face. I told him that it wasn’t his fault and that I would tell Mom and Dad about Rodney in the morning, but that it was me who killed him. He got hysterical. He said that they’d never believe it. That they’d know he pushed Rodney into killing himself, and they’d send him to prison. He begged me not to say anything, and so I… I promised him I wouldn’t. He was terrified, Em, and it was all my fault. He'd killed a man because of me.”

  “Honey, no.” Emerson cupped his face and made him look at her. “This isn’t your fault or Owen’s. It’s Rodney’s, and it’s Erin’s. Do you understand? You did nothing wrong.”

  He just shrugged before saying, “Owen vowed to never use his powers again after that. He hadn’t used them very often before, you know? He’d tried them out a few times on me, with my permission, but that was it. But he swore he would never use them again, and until Wilson fucking Granger kidnapped him, I don’t think he did. He was traumatized by killing Rodney.”

  “He saved your life, Clay. Rodney shooting you in the knee probably would have killed you. You would have died from loss of blood and shock before the ambulance got to you. Owen had no choice.”

  “He had no choice because I was weak,” Clay snapped. “I was weak and useless, and because of that, Owen was forced to kill a man. Owen vowed that night never to use his powers, but I promised myself that I would never put him in that type of situation again. I would never be weak or powerless again, Em. I would be the one to protect him.”

  She purred softly, waiting for his body to relax again. When it did, she said, “What happened with Rodney?”

  “The police dragged the river and found his body. They called it a suicide, and that was it. Nobody even cared that a murderer was dead by his own hand. Hell, Erin didn’t even seem all that broken up about it.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “I never spoke to her again after that night. I blocked her number and refused to even look at her at school. After high school, she became a hairstylist and about four years later, she OD’d on heroin.”