Hunted by a Jaguar
Page 9
He would send men after her.
But they wouldn’t only come after her this time.
She looked up at Kyter. He had fought well against the demon, but he wouldn’t stand a chance if Fernandez sent his best men.
His finest assassins.
“I was trying to protect you.”
Those words didn’t ease her anger or her fear. She shook her head again and clenched her fists.
“All you have done is make things worse for me. I will be punished for what happened.” She hated the pain that filled his eyes as she said that because it was proof of something she didn’t want to believe.
His grip on her slackened and he stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides as he lowered his head and stared at his boots. “I didn’t mean to make things worse. I wanted to protect you.”
Iolanthe cursed and looked beyond him, unable to see him when her emotions were tearing her in too many directions, leaving her muddled and on the verge of doing something dangerous, like offering him comfort.
She strode past him and grimaced at the sight of the dead demon. She felt Kyter’s gaze on her, boring a hole into the back of her aching head, commanding her to look at him. She resisted and glared at the demon, trying to regain control of her colliding emotions so she could think clearly for a second and decide what to do.
It wouldn’t stop Fernandez from finding out what had happened to his man, but she had to dispose of the body. She couldn’t leave it here, in a public place, where humans would come across it.
“Do not move,” she snapped at Kyter, stalked across the dusty stone pavement to the demon, and crouched beside him. She grabbed his arm and looked back at Kyter. “I will return.”
He growled, flashing fangs, his golden eyes going wild as he launched at her, reaching for her even though she had sworn to return.
He didn’t trust her.
He thought she meant to leave him.
She huffed as she teleported, darkness engulfing her for a second before she appeared at the top of a black cliff in Hell, above a wide snaking river of lava. The Devil’s domain. No better place to dispose of a dead demon. Hot wind buffeted her as she hauled the demon to the edge. She stared down at the river several hundred feet below her and kicked the demon off the cliff. He plummeted, spinning in the air, growing smaller and smaller until he hit the lava and burst into flames.
Iolanthe breathed out a sigh and rubbed her hands on her armour, a small voice at the back of her head telling her to remain in Hell, away from Kyter. She couldn’t do it. She had promised to return and she preferred to keep her promises.
She told herself that was the sole reason she was returning to him.
It had nothing to do with the ridiculous need to comfort him and ease his guilt that was steadily building inside her.
She focused on Kyter and closed her eyes as she teleported.
His earthy masculine scent hit her as soon as she reappeared in Herculaneum and she flicked her eyes open, pinning them straight on him.
He stood a short distance away, his bare chest straining with each hard breath he drew and his golden eyes flooded with something akin to relief, as if he was glad to see her, as if her return had been vital to him in some way.
Iolanthe pretended not to notice how much that pleased her, sending a warm shiver through her that heated her heart and melted the ice around it a little.
“What did you do with him?” he said, his deep voice gravelly and husky, teasing her ears and stirring her desire for him.
She crushed it and kept a tight hold on it, refusing to let her emotions run rampant when he had placed her, and himself, in terrible danger.
“I dropped him into one of the primary lava rivers in the Devil’s domain. It does not change what has happened. My client will know what occurred here and I will be punished.” She cursed him when he lowered his gaze to the dusty ground between them and frowned at it, as if her words had cut him.
Kyter lifted his head and his bright golden eyes pierced hers. “He hurt you. What else was I supposed to do?”
He curled his fingers into trembling fists at his sides, his bare arms tensing with the action, and turned his face away from her, closing his eyes at the same time. She cursed him again, in her head this time, hating him for pulling on her heartstrings. Such a powerful male shouldn’t be able to look so vulnerable.
He inhaled hard, causing his broad chest to expand, luring her gaze down to it. She had been right. Deep claw marks raked over his golden skin, slashing diagonally from his right hip across his stomach. Rivulets of drying blood tracked downwards from the slashes, some of them reaching the waist of his dark combat trousers where they hung low on his lean hips.
She wanted to mention that he needed to tend to his wounds, but she feared he would suggest with another seductive glint in his eyes that she tend to them for him and she wouldn’t be strong enough to say no.
Iolanthe dragged her eyes away from his body and back up to his face, expecting to find him watching her now. He wasn’t. He had remained with his head turned away from her, his eyes closed and his sandy eyebrows drawn down in a hard frown.
She tried to steel herself against the urge that welled up inside her, fought it with everything she had, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t stop herself from taking a step closer to him and reaching for his hand. Her fingers flexed as she hesitated in placing her hand over his fist, showing him that she couldn’t blame him for what had happened.
It wasn’t his fault.
If she were his mate, then he was driven by a powerful need to protect her from other males and from harm. His instinct to do such a thing would have easily overwhelmed him when he had seen the demon strike her.
Iolanthe lowered her hand back to her side before she could touch him and studied his noble profile.
Perhaps he was her fated male, because hadn’t she felt that same powerful need to protect him the whole time she had been with him? Hadn’t she tried to drive him away in order to keep him safe from harm?
He slipped his left arm around her waist and tugged her towards him, and she didn’t fight him this time. She was too lost in the possibility that the male standing before her was her fated male.
“You’re shaking,” he husked, his voice deep and smooth as an ocean, lulling her and making her want to shift closer to him.
She tensed instead, mastering her body and stopping the trembling he had mentioned. “I am not.”
He turned his head towards her and his gaze met hers as he smiled. She cursed the way her belly fluttered in response to that stupid lopsided grin of his. It was a real smile this time though. Not one designed to entice and seduce. He had seen through her lie and it amused him that she refused to admit that she was afraid.
He lifted his hand and went to brush his knuckles across her cheek. She leaned back, evading his caress, and he paused with his hand mere millimetres from her face. His eyes searched hers in the low light.
“Are you afraid of me… or this client of yours?” he murmured and shifted his hand forwards, bringing them into contact. The softness of his caress startled her, sending a shiver tumbling down her spine and reigniting her desire. He tilted his head to one side and the corners of his mouth curled slightly. “Which is it?”
“Neither,” she said.
His sensual lips quirked in another lopsided smile.
“I messed up,” he whispered and ran his fingers down her throat, and she had to fight to resist looking at his. Her fangs itched. “I’ll fix my mess.”
“How?” She wriggled one arm free and swatted his hand away. “Stop that.”
He didn’t. His smile gained an unapologetic edge and he traced his fingers over her shoulder, heading back towards her throat. Her skin heated beneath her armour wherever he touched. She scowled at him.
“Why don’t you flip your armour a little mental command and make it go away?” He toyed with the scales that flowed around her throat, his deep voice husky and low, speaking of the d
esire that darkened his eyes.
She caught his hand this time, immobilising it and stopping it from wreaking havoc on her self-control. Much more of his stroking and she would probably end up doing as he wanted and would forget what she wanted.
Which was him answering her question.
“How?” She put a little more force behind it this time.
He sighed. “You won’t like my plan.”
“Does it involve me handing you the artefact and believing you will actually give it back to me?”
His expression soured. “You still don’t trust me?”
He hadn’t given her a reason to yet. He hadn’t earned the trust he wanted her to give so freely to him.
He huffed and rubbed her spine with his free hand. Persistent irritating male. She refused to let him see how the light stroke of his fingers over her armour affected her, sending tingles tripping across her skin and causing heat to flare in her belly.
“Answer my question.” She scowled at him for good measure.
It seemed to work, because he sighed again and stopped driving her mad with gentle caresses across her back, and said, “We can work together to find the artefact. Two heads are better than one. It’ll work out if we stick together.”
She wasn’t sure which head he was talking about in regards to himself, but she was definitely certain that the part about it working out wasn’t related to the artefact. He was thinking about them working out.
As mates.
Warning bells jangled in her head but he was leaning towards her again, stealing all of her focus to his sensual lips as they dipped towards hers.
She cursed him for distracting her with the first brush of his mouth across hers and praised him for the second as everything that had been on her mind evaporated again, leaving only him behind. The feel of his hands as they claimed her waist. The possessive press of his fingers into her flesh. The seductive sweep of his tongue over her lips. She parted for him and moaned as he claimed her again, losing herself in the hard demanding kiss that left no part of her untouched.
Her body. Her heart. Her soul.
He reached every part of her, claiming dominion over her entirely and awakening all of her senses to him. He smelled earthy and masculine, a powerful scent that made her think of nature and thundering waterfalls. He tasted like the rich tang of his blood, stirring her hunger to dizzying heights, until her fangs emerged against her will. He felt like rock and steel sheathed in warm velvet beneath her hands as they clutched his shoulders and she held on to him to stop herself from being swept away. Each soft puff of his breath matched hers together with the primal beat of his heart in her ears.
She wanted to open her eyes and drink in the sight of him, to see the passion she stirred in such a powerful male, but she didn’t want to end this kiss. She needed it to go on forever.
It was drugging. Delicious.
She didn’t care. Nothing mattered but this moment.
Iolanthe wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her fingers through the shorter hair at the back of his head. He groaned into her mouth and pulled her closer, the tightness of his grip thrilling her. She moaned and kissed him harder, overwhelmed by her need of him. It wasn’t enough. She needed more.
He moved with her, backing her across the courtyard. She didn’t fight him. Not when he pressed her back into a column. Not when his hands skimmed down to her backside and he lifted her. Not when he wrapped her legs around his waist.
Definitely not when he ground against her, rubbing the steel length in his combats against the apex of her thighs. She shuddered and moaned, the wanton sound startling her. He chuckled against her lips, a throaty sound of pure male satisfaction. She wanted to hit him for it. He took a little too much pride in eliciting reactions from her.
He wasn’t the only one who could make the other tremble with need.
Iolanthe pulled herself higher, seizing control of the kiss at the same time as she tightened her legs around his waist and flexed her hips, rubbing him through his trousers. He grunted and then moaned when she stroked his short fangs with her tongue, teasing them. They grew longer and she flinched when she felt a swift stab of pain under her tongue.
He had lower fangs too.
What was he?
It was on the tip of her tongue to break the kiss and ask but he mastered her again, using her momentary distraction against her. His tongue plundered her mouth, teasing her fangs, and his fingers pressed into her backside as he ground against her again, the whole of his body gliding across hers. His chest rubbed her breasts through her armour and she bit back a moan, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing it.
He had to work harder if he wanted to elicit any more noises from her.
Kyter seemed to get the message.
His lips left hers to trail across her cheek and he swept them down her neck. She tried to stop herself but the persuasive dance of his mouth over her throat had her tipping her head back, raising her face to the starlit sky, and moaning. He growled against her skin, the feral sound thrilling her and sending a hot jolt down from her throat to her belly. It struck like lightning along the way, making her breasts tingle and her body arch against his. He grunted again and held her harder, his short claws digging into her armour.
“Iolanthe,” he murmured between wet kisses and nipped her throat.
Her eyes shot wide and she slammed her hands against his shoulders, hitting him with a light blast of telekinesis to drive him away from her. He staggered backwards across the courtyard as she dropped to her feet and slapped her hand over her throat, her heart racing at a million beats per minute.
She brought her hand away from her throat and stared down at it.
No blood.
But he had been on the verge of biting her.
He stopped and scowled at her, his eyes dark but not with passion. Anger laced his scent, an undertone of frustration and dissatisfaction joining it as he advanced on her.
She held her left hand out in front of her and he halted, warily eyeing it. She would hit him with a stronger blast if he dared to come near her.
He had intended to bite her.
If he were her fated mate, it would have triggered a bonding process between them, weakening her until she completed it by biting him and sharing blood.
His earlier words came back to her, taunting her as they ran around her head on repeat.
The irritating male believed that he could own her.
He believed that she was a possession and belonged to him, purely because nature had made it possible for them to achieve the deepest bond imaginable between a couple—the bond of mates.
She didn’t want a mate.
She had witnessed what a mate meant for females. It meant giving up everything.
There was no way she was going to give up doing the things that she loved—a career that had been her salvation and had given her purpose. She loved treasure hunting and she loved flying solo on her adventures.
She didn’t need anyone tagging along and she certainly didn’t intend to give up her life’s passion for any male. They weren’t worth it.
From the things he had said, she knew he expected her to do just that. He thought that she was his mate and he thought she would throw herself into his arms, and wasn’t that exactly what she was doing?
She was letting him own her.
She narrowed her gaze on him, her anger rising as he glared across the narrow strip of courtyard at her, the look in his eyes demanding she back down and allow him near her again.
Even if he were her mate, there was no way in this realm or in her own one that she was going to let him take control of her life. She refused to throw away everything she had worked so hard for. She wouldn’t bind herself to a male who acted as if she was a done deal when he didn’t even know her and didn’t ask for permission.
She didn’t want a male who took what he wanted, as if he was entitled to it and she had no right to deny him.
“I cannot do this
. I will not do this.” Iolanthe bared her emerging fangs at him and the pointed tips of her ears flared back against the sides of her head, a sign of aggression rather than desire and one she had no control over when her emotions were running hot, like fire in her veins.
Kyter tensed and then growled at her, the sound strange and like nothing she had heard before.
“What are you?” she said, unable to hold that question in.
He began pacing even though he looked as if he wanted to close the distance between them and grab her. His fists shook at his sides and his motions were stiff, each stride clipped. He breathed hard, his gaze locked on her as he strode back and forth across the courtyard in front of her.
A caged animal.
His eyes brightened to molten gold.
“Your mate,” he spat the words at her.
She didn’t like that look in his eyes as he turned and paced back the other way, narrowing them on her, a calculating edge to them. She had seen too many males look at females that way. As if they were a possession.
She stiffened and echoed his earlier words. “I belong to you.”
He nodded.
She shook her head and his expression shifted, losing its certainty and gaining a dark edge.
“I do not recognise you as my mate. You are wrong.” She took a step back when he reached for her, a wild look entering his eyes. “And even if you were right… I do not want a mate.”
Iolanthe curled her fingers into tight fists and focused on her bolthole, her heart hammering against her chest at a sickening pace.
Her limbs trembled with the explosive combination of anger and fear flooding her.
“I do not need a collar.”
She teleported just as he lunged at her, but in the brief moment between issuing the command and disappearing, she saw the answer to the question she had posed so many times and he had refused to answer.
He transformed mid-leap, beautiful golden fur spotted with black rosettes rippling over his skin as his limbs bent and twisted and his head morphed, becoming sleek and cat-like. A thick long tail tipped with black whipped through the air as he emerged from his trousers and his mouth opened on a roar of fury, flashing enormous canines as he landed where she had been.