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.
Without warning she kneed him sharply in the balls. Hard.
He roared in anger as his grip loosened and she rolled away from him, her legs churning as she wildly looked for escape. She was in a cave of some sort. Frantically she sought an exit, and she bolted toward long beams of light that beckoned from down the narrow tunnel.
Skye didn’t bother looking back. She was down the passage in an instant and as the light became brighter, she tapped into her eagle, and felt the large raptor explode as she leapt out into the sun.
She made the shift seamlessly. As her large wings unfurled and her body rose high into the warm sky, she headed toward camp.
She heard a shout of rage follow her, but ignored it.
She had more pressing matters to attend to. The
DaCosta jaguars were on the hunt, and she needed to warn Finn and Sam.
Sam was human and dear to her heart. He’d been working with her for the past two years as she’d tried to locate the portal.
But Finn … he was of her blood, and if he was lost to her, then she’d truly be on her own. She’d be the last Knightly to walk the earth and soar free in the skies.
As her great wings carried her higher into the welcoming sunlight, she felt the elation of the shift leave her as a great sadness crept into her soul.
She would be the only eagle knight left to carry out her father’s mission, one that would only succeed with the ultimate sacrifice.
She just prayed she’d be strong enough to carry it through to the bitter end.
Chapter 3
Jagger Castille staggered to his feet, trying to control his fast-rising temper. He inhaled sharply, his eyes darkening yet again, and this time desire had nothing to do with it.
Christ, his nuts were fucking killing him. He bent over, his breath ragged, and he couldn’t decide what hurt more, his aching jewels or his pride.
He’d not had sex in a seriously long time, and the scent of the woman he’d held so close was still in his nostrils, taunting him. He felt his cock react, hardening even more at the thought of her perfect breasts in his hands. He stood straight and shook his tense muscles, cursing loudly as the pain between his legs refused to lessen.
What the hell had happened?
He growled his displeasure as his long legs carried him to the entrance of the cave. She was nowhere in sight. His head swiveled around but there was no trace of her.
What the fuck?
Jagger wasn’t sure how long he stood there, cock jutting straight out like a bull about to charge. He knew he should let it go. But how could he?
Groaning, he let out a long breath and glanced down at his aching appendage. There was no way that was going away anytime soon.
He could take care of those needs the old-fashioned way if he had to. As his eyes quickly scanned the entire perimeter, her elusive scent caught at him, enthralled him with its sweetness. It was riding the wind and he found himself facing north, his eyes scouring the distance, searching for some kind of sign.
What the hell was he thinking?
The detached part of his human nature warned him to just leave it alone. But the cat hungered inside, wanting to taste her.
Savagely, Jagger snarled and plunged his overheated flesh into the cool water that fell from his cave. The refreshing wetness abated the fever he was feeling briefly, but he knew he would be walking around with a hard-on for days.
And so he stood, six feet, six inches of rock-solid muscle, pissed off that some random female had infiltrated his space and reduced him to a quivering mass of need.
Her scent still floated in the air and he inhaled the richness of it, feeling it burn through his veins as her unique odor caught at the very heart of him.
The satchel that he’d taken from around her shoulders lay against the pallet on the floor and quickly he opened it, hoping to find information about this mystery woman who’d been attacked by two jaguar warriors so close to his territory.
The small satchel was full of maps, notes, and intricately drawn recordings of caves. Detailed and precise, they aroused his curiosity.
He sat back on his haunches and quickly skimmed the renderings. Several small notes had been scribbled into one margin, and he felt the sting of anger hit him once more as one word stood out in stark relief.
DaCosta.
Fucking bastards just wouldn’t go away.
His fingers gripped the pages and he felt a fire begin in his gut as he read on. There were several words and phrases highlighted. Caracol. Ritual. Cave of the Sun. But one word grabbed at him hard and he hissed when he saw it.
<
br /> Libby.
He inhaled deeply as his thoughts turned to his brother Jaxon and the woman he loved. What the hell had happened after the sky had opened up and fire had rained down upon them, that night at the DaCosta compound? Did they make it out alive?
Fear of the unknown began to eat at him and Jagger jumped to his feet, suddenly filled with nervous energy and the need to act. Something at the bottom of the bag caught his eye, and he withdrew a small object carved from soft limestone.
It was an eagle, wings spread as if in flight, and there were markings on the bottom of it. The piece looked extremely old and well used, maybe a small toy for a child. He put it back along with the mess of papers and clipped the bag shut.
He stood there, lost in thought for several long moments, and then turned abruptly, bag in hand. His body reacted to what his mind was commanding and the cat purred with joy. He exited the cave once more and leapt over the water, making his way down the ledge that led to the second waterfall below. Before he’d cleared the bottom, mist had enveloped his body, and it was no longer that of a human male but a large black jaguar that swam across the water and emerged on the other side.
Jagger clutched the satchel in his mouth, turning his head to the sky, trying to catch a whiff of her scent. It was elusive, and he shook his head, clearly puzzled. His powerful paws made quick work of the muddy banks and he made it to higher ground before the smallest touch of her grabbed him.
He began following the trail and felt excitement pound through his body. Her essence was tantalizing and the cat growled from deep in his chest before he disappeared into the thick stand of trees that lined the water.
The next four hours proved to be somewhat of a chore for Jagger; he wasn’t used to hunting something that he couldn’t seem to find. Her scent kept disappearing and then reappearing as the wind picked up. It was confusing, but carefully he tracked her, wandering miles from what had become his territory, and the ridge changed as he left the thick pine forests far behind him and traveled lower, down into the heart of the jungle.
Here, he picked a path through the thick, lush underbelly, his heavy paws silent as his body slid through dense greenery. The jungle was so much a part of who and what he was, he felt his spirit soar.
He knew he wasn’t far from the massive Mayan ruins in Caracol and he swung east as her scent continued to tease. It lingered just out of reach and drove him mad with the desire to find her.
What the hell he was going to do when he eventually did get his paws on her was another story, but he’d invested too much time and energy to just let it go at this point.
The sun was high in the azure blue sky, and he felt the heat of her rays filtering through the canopy high above him. He was just about to cross a small stream, when out of nowhere a new scent drifted over him, one that immediately brought to the surface the aggressive nature that was the jaguar.
He began to pant as it washed over him, his body quivering in anticipation. His mind recognized the testosterone-laden body signatures that were unique to his kind, and he stilled his trembling frame, trying to find its source.
It took only a few seconds, but he knew he was in close proximity to a large gathering of jaguar shifters. He sensed another scent that was unusual and felt his heart speed up as he realized it was very close to the mystery woman’s signature.
Had she been taken?
Quickly he circled back, up a large hill, using the dense jungle for cover. He was downwind from their encampment, and as of yet sensed no other predators in the immediate vicinity.
Faint voices could be heard traveling up from below and Jagger homed in on them, but he realized that they could still be miles away. Quickly he started following them, and a half hour later he slowed to a crawl, his senses on high alert as his nose twitched impatiently.
He kept his body low to the ground and moved forward quietly, surprised that no guards had been posted so close to camp. As he nudged closer, he realized it was because there were at least twenty soldiers present, several bearing the tattoos that proclaimed their elite warrior status.
He settled in to listen and to observe, pushing the bolt of excitement to the back of his mind, knowing he needed to play it cool and smart, or else his life could be on the line.
A large male, clearly the one in charge, was pacing about, nervous energy clinging to his heavily muscled frame. He, too, bore the warrior tattoos, but they were unfamiliar to Jagger.
He grumbled softly as he continued to study the large man, not liking the fact that he was so outnumbered. To be discovered would mean certain death.
Abruptly the leader stopped, as a new player entered the camp from the opposite direction. He was panting heavily, his body dripping in sweat and trembling from exertion.
“Where are they?”
The newcomer took a few more seconds to catch his breath and the large male growled loudly, his stance aggressive as he quickly crossed over to where the panting warrior stood.
“They’re dead.”
The tall leader bellowed his rage, and his fists flew out into the chest of the bearer of such bad news, and both of them snarled as they began to shimmer, and mist fell upon their bodies. The rest of the pack stood back, most of them looking bored, as if the battle waged before them was an everyday occurrence.
From his perch behind the thick thatch of greenery that lined the perimeter of the camp, Jagger stilled.
The human part of his mind understood the words and their implications. Obviously, the two DaCosta warriors that had been killed near his cave somehow belonged with this dangerous bunch. The question was, why were two DaCostas out here working alongside several different clans of warriors?
Jagger’s brain went into overdrive as he tried to puzzle it out. It was not normal for different jaguar clans to mingle, especially warriors. One thing was certain, something was up. Something big. And somehow the little slip of a woman he’d run across was mixed up in the whole mess.
The snarls subsided and when the mist cleared, the warriors had returned to their human forms. The leader slowly gained his feet, his face dark with anger. He walked a few paces away, collected himself before turning back toward the messenger.
“How?”
The one-word question was uttered harshly and the other warrior spit into the ground, his growls slowly dying out as he faced his superior.
“One was knifed and the other’s skull was crushed.” The warrior’s chest heaved in an effort to slow his breathing as he continued, “I picked up her scent. The bitch is still alive but there was another jaguar there, and by the look of the attack I don’t think it was a regular shifter.”
“Fuck! Where the hell is she?” the leader exploded loudly as his temper erupted. He crossed over to a stand of trees and Jagger strained his head in an effort to better see. When a tall, thin man with graying hair was yanked forward he sighed silently, glad to see it wasn’t the female he’d been hunting.
The urge to protect was building steadily, but Jagger held back, listening intently, hoping to find out what the hell the large gathering of warriors was up to.
The leader threw the man to the ground and kicked him hard in the chest. The effort produced a grunt of pain, and Jagger was impressed at the fire of hatred that burned brightly in the man’s eyes.
“Where the hell is the eagle bitch?”
The man remained silent, earning another quick kick to the gut and a backhand to the face. Blood spurted out and several teeth flew from his mouth, but the man smiled up wickedly at his adversary, licking the thick red substance that was slowly trickling from the side of his mouth.
“You’ll never get your black paws on her,” the man sneered. “And she’ll make sure of it.”
The warrior roared in fury, his foot colliding hard with the side of the man’s head, effectively quieting him as his body slid to the earthen floor. The other warriors dispersed and Jagger noiselessly retreated far back into the underbrush.
Questions pummeled his bra
in: who was the woman and what were the DaCostas seeking? But there was no time to seek answers. The warriors would be on the hunt and he needed to kick it up a notch.
His heart began to pound and the rush of blood that flew through his veins pushed him to a relentless pace as he headed east, away from the jaguars.
The blond woman was in danger, and his need to get to her, while foreign, nevertheless had his powerful frame streaking through the jungle in an effort to locate her scent once more. He had to reach her before the pack of jaguars did.
If he was too late, there would be no telling what they’d do to her once they had her in their hands. The DaCostas were a nasty bunch, and the thought of anyone touching the blonde brought such anger crashing through him that his growl reverberated loudly, and several wailer monkeys flew along the canopy above, yelling their encouragement.
His powerful legs ate up a considerable range of lush jungle and he kept up a harsh pace for well over two hours. It was getting late in the afternoon and the sun’s warmth was definitely decreasing when he began to close in on her location.
Jagger had just crested a small hill as a warm breeze picked up, coming in off the Caribbean Sea and filtering inland. His nostrils quivered in excitement as the elusive scent he’d been searching for all morning and into the afternoon flew at him. He drew her essence deep into his body and his green eyes quickly scoured the area immediately below him. Off in the distance he saw what looked like a small clearing, a break in the thick foliage that carpeted the entire area.
He knew it was only luck that brought her scent to him. For whatever reason she was riding the wind and it wouldn’t be long before it drifted downward, to where the warriors were.
He took off, quickly disappearing deep into cover, and as her scent became stronger, he slowed to a crawl.
He paused as he closed in on the area where he thought she was and scented the air. His nostrils quivered in distaste, and he shook his head as the sickening aroma of death cloaked any sweetness that had been riding the wind.
Panic gnawed at him, but the hunter that lived inside clung to an air of caution. Methodically, he inched forward, keeping his body well hidden.
His Darkest Embrace Page 3
