Grabbing the soap, he lathered his body, raking at his skin with his fingernails. Goddess, sometimes he wished he could claw his way out of himself and leave his skin behind.
Olivia meant nothing to him. Nothing but a little sex play, a little healthy conflict.
But even as he tried to convince himself of that, he ached to feel her in his arms again. His flesh warmed to the memory of the way she’d clung to him, deep in the throes of that wild release. Feelings had assailed him in those moments and the ones that followed, emotions so strong he’d found himself clinging to her as strongly as she had to him. Feelings of tenderness, and protectiveness, and a need to hold her so razor-sharp he’d feared it would puncture his heart.
He’d wanted to stay like that, his nose buried in her shampoo-fragrant hair as he cradled her against him, stroking her precious head.
Self-disgust had him slamming the soap down in the tray so hard he broke the bar. That remembered feeling of weakness made him grind his teeth together. The reason he antagonized people, the reason he pushed them away, was because he didn’t like these soft-ass emotions. In fact, he hated them.
And what was wrong with that?
Nothing, dammit, that’s what.
He washed his hair and shoved his head under the water to rinse it clean, turning the water temp to biting hot.
But the sudden needle pricks that dug into his skin had nothing to do with the water. He stilled as recognition slammed into him. Olivia was feeding. Hard.
Jesus. Someone had to be attacking her!
He flew out of the shower, flinging water droplets every which way, nearly skating across the slick bathroom tile as he wrenched open the door, a heartbeat away from shifting and tearing out the throat of the sucker who dared try to hurt her.
But he came to an abrupt halt as he turned the corner and found her, not in a fight for her life but sitting cross-legged on the bed, fully clothed, her laptop in front of her.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She’d scared the shit out of him.
As she looked up at him in surprise, the needle pricks disappeared.
She looked confused. “I need to feed, Jag. I didn’t suck hard.”
He took an angry step forward. “The hell you didn’t.”
The look she gave him turned dismissive. “Jag, I’ve been doing this for centuries. I think I’d know if…”
A scream outside silenced her, lifting her to her feet as she flew for the window. Jag followed her, peering through the sheers over her head at the woman racing up the stairs. He glanced down at the walkway outside the room and understanding slammed into him. A young man lay sprawled across the cement. Unconscious. Or dead.
Olivia swayed, bumping him gently, and he grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward him. Her face had drained of all color, her freckles stark against the pale white of her skin.
“Easy, Red.” Again, he used his gift to push a cooling calm into her instead of heat. “What happened?”
“I did this. I have to go out there. I have to help him.”
“What can you do other than look guilty?” He gripped her shoulders tighter. “Can you do a reverse action on that feed of yours?”
She shook her head, her expression stricken. “It only goes one way.”
“Nick!” A man’s voice shouted from the parking lot.
The woman’s voice answered. “He’s breathing, Dave. He’s alive.”
“What in the hell happened?” the man’s voice shouted. “Do you see any blood?”
“No. I saw him go down. He swayed like he was getting dizzy, then collapsed. He’s too young to have had a heart attack!”
“Damn kid’s probably been doing drugs.”
“Mom?” a youthful voice asked groggily.
“Oh, thank God, son, you scared me to death.”
Jag pulled Olivia away from the window. She was trembling beneath his hands. “He’s fine. Now, I’m going to ask you again. What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze flew to his face, her eyes wide with horror. “What if he wasn’t the only one? What if there were others in the rooms nearby?”
“They’ll recover, just like the kid did.”
“If they weren’t weak to begin with.”
Jag’s hands moved to cup her face. “We can’t go pounding on doors seeing if anyone’s injured. No one can know we had anything to do with this.”
“Jag…”
“Olivia. Liv, listen to me. There are hardly any cars in the parking lot. There’s no one here. The kid’s okay. They’re all okay.”
“If you hadn’t stopped me…”
“Sweetheart, what happened?”
“I don’t know. I fed like I always do, just a little. With your energy as strong as it is, no human should have been harmed by it. Jag, I’ve been doing this for hundreds of years. He shouldn’t have been harmed!”
“What’s changed?” he asked.
She stared at him, her eyes widening. And he knew.
“The Daemon,” they said together.
“The venom?” he asked.
“More likely the energy I sucked from him. The venom incapacitated me, but his life force felt foul and unnatural. And incredibly strong.” She would have swayed on her feet if he hadn’t been holding her. As it was, her face lost what little color it had managed to recover. “What if it’s changing me?”
His fingers caressed her head, her thick, soft hair alive beneath his fingertips. “Easy, Liv. Let’s not jump to conclusions. You’re feeding more strongly. You’re just going to have to dial it down.”
“What if that’s not enough?” A shudder went through her. “I can’t wait, Jag. I’m hungry. I need to feed.”
His thumbs traced the lines of her cheekbones. “Take some from me.”
She shook her head. “The only way I can be sure not to steal any more from the humans is to touch you and take it all from you. But I could hurt you. I could take too much too fast.”
Despite the way he’d treated her, she was still protecting him.
“Then let’s go. We’ll drive into town where there are a lot of people around.” But no sooner were the words out of his mouth than his cell phone went off. With a low curse, he released her and reached for the phone he’d left sitting on the nightstand beside his bed. Tighe’s number flashed on the screen.
“Yo.”
“We’re crossing the bridge,” the tiger shifter said.
Shit. They were out of time. Jag gave him directions to the motel. “We were just heading out for food. We’ll meet you…”
“We’ll bring it.”
Double shit. “There’s a sub shop on the way in. Bring four footlongs for us, and whatever the rest of you want.”
Olivia held up five fingers.
“Make that five, and surprise us.” He snapped the phone closed, shoved it in his pocket, and looked at Olivia. “We’re going to have to go for a walk, and fast. They’ll be here too soon to get you into a crowd, but I’ll get you away from humans, and you can feed from me at a distance.”
He pulled on his pants and a tee, then held out his hand to her, pleased when she took it. Hand in hand, they left the motel together, walking down the stairs and across the parking lot to the woods beyond. When they were a good twenty yards into the woods, Jag stopped and released her.
“Feed from me, Red. As low as you can, and we’ll go from there.”
She nodded, turning to him, her eyes tense, her expression worried. Almost at once, he felt a strong hum thrumming over his flesh. Not uncomfortable, but not something he’d likely sleep through. “If I had to guess, you’re feeding twice as hard as you did in Feral House.”
Her eyes popped wide, her mouth dropping open as the feeding stopped abruptly. “That should have been a fraction of it.”
“You’re stronger, all right. Can you pull it any lower?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had to try.”
He nodded at her. “Feed more, Red. You need i
t.”
“You’ll tell me if I’m taking too much?”
The fear in her voice squeezed something deep in his chest. That old urge to make her mad pricked at him, but he pushed it back, smiling at her instead.
“I’ll tell you.”
The buzz dimmed a little, but she continued to feed at a much higher level than she had before. Five minutes later he felt the first wave of light-headedness.
“Enough, Liv.”
She stopped immediately, her eyes filled with concern. “Too much?”
“Yeah. I’m feeling it. You’re not full?”
“No. It’s like my metabolism has been ratcheted up half a dozen notches.”
“When the gang arrives, you can try it again. Go slow, just a little at a time.”
Olivia grabbed his arm. “Sit down, Jag, until it passes. If you fall, I won’t be able to catch you.”
“Sure about that? You’re a lot stronger than you look.” But he let her pull him down onto a stump.
She stood in front of him, watching him with worried eyes.
“I’m fine, Olivia. Just a little light-headed.” But it was disconcerting to realize how fast she could kill him if she wanted to. Fortunately, he could tell how much that realization scared her. “You don’t like to kill, do you?”
“On the field of battle, I never hesitate. But I don’t kill innocents. Or friends.”
Slowly, he cocked his head at her. “There must be another category, because I’m pretty sure I don’t fall into either of those.”
He’d been trying to ease that fear in her eyes, he realized. Hoping to draw a smile.
But the look she turned on him was far too serious. “When you’re not trying to make me mad, you are my friend, Jag. For all the flaws in our relationship, you understand me better than anyone ever has. I never know what you’re going to do, and I still don’t know if you’re going to turn me in, but for now you’re the best friend I have. In a weird kind of way, maybe the best friend I’ve ever had. Because I can completely and totally be myself with you.”
Her words hit him hard, at once a sweet, drenching rain on a parched soul, and a full-out assault on the thing that lived inside him. The bitterness. And he knew she was right. Part of him didn’t want this, didn’t want her to like him or call him friend. Didn’t want anyone to like him.
But as that ugliness started to rise inside him, threatening this truce, Tighe’s white Land Rover pulled into the parking lot. Behind it, he saw Hawke’s black monster of an SUV. The GMC Yukon might be as big as Jag’s Hummer, but it wasn’t the gas guzzler Jag’s was. The damned hawk shifter had bought a hybrid.
Jag stood, glad to find the light-headedness gone. “Let’s go. Lunch has arrived. My lunch, at any rate.” He glanced at her as they started back through the woods toward the motel. “What if this jump in your metabolism continues to accelerate?”
Her startled gaze met his, her eyes, for once, looking every one of her nearly six hundred years. “I won’t be responsible for the deaths of innocents. I refuse. If I start harming others, you’re going to have to stop me.”
“I know.”
And he would. He’d have no choice. But he had no illusions, either. Being forced to take Olivia’s life would destroy him.
Chapter Thirteen
“How’s the wanker?”
Niall asked the question beneath his breath as he and Ewan joined her in the motel parking lot, one on either side.
As Jag led Delaney and the Ferals up the stairs, Olivia held back, needing a report from her men, knowing they wanted one in return.
“Jag’s a challenge,” Olivia said coolly, fighting to mask the emotion she feared might creep into her voice. These two knew her far too well. And yet, in some ways, they knew her not at all. “But he’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“If he hurts you…” Niall began hotly.
Ewan punched him in the shoulder. “You’ll what? Attack a Feral?”
“He’ll do nothing.” Olivia used her command voice, the one that brooked no argument. Niall was usually a wise, levelheaded soldier, but Jag clearly brought out the worst in him. Especially when it came to her.
Niall’s gaze dropped, a storm rising in his eyes as he looked at her shoulder. “He clawed you.”
“No. For heaven’s sake, Niall. This happened in the woods. It wasn’t Jag’s doing.” They’d have to get into the discussion of the Daemon when they joined the others upstairs. She just prayed Jag left the draden attack out of it.
She strode forward before Niall could question her further, leading them up the stairs after the others, following the scent of warm bread and spicy meats drifting from the bags of sandwiches Tighe carried.
As they followed the others inside, the motel room quickly became dwarfed by the six huge men and two women. Tighe wore sunglasses despite the cloudy day, leaving them on in the room. She’d heard that his eyes turned to tiger eyes spontaneously sometimes, which forced him to keep them covered whenever humans were around.
He flashed dimples at his wife as she nudged him aside to place the tray of drinks on the table. As Hawke leaned his long body back against the chest of drawers, Kougar positioned himself beside the door, part of the group and yet not, as he watched them with eyes completely lacking in warmth.
Though she knew all four Ferals wore the armbands with the heads of their animals—bands through which they accessed the power of the Earth—only Jag’s armband showed.
Jag sprawled across the bed farthest from the window, lying on his side and propping his head on one thickly muscled arm while Niall and Ewan sat side by side on the edge of the other bed.
Jag caught her eye and patted the bed in front of him, clearly suggesting she join him. But while a scamp’s smile played around his mouth, the look in his eyes held a warning. A warning that drew her to him instead of repelling her, and not because she feared he’d give her away. Quite the opposite. The look in his eyes warned her to be careful lest she give herself away.
She found herself crossing to perch on the edge of the bed beside him instead of joining her own men as she might have done a few days ago. Everything had changed when Jag discovered her secret. He threatened everything she’d built of her life, including her life itself. But in an odd way, he’d become the only one she could truly trust.
Besides, she could no longer be sure how long she could go without feeding. She might accidentally steal energy without meaning to, possibly without even knowing she was doing it. Jag needed to be close enough to stop her if he had to. If she harmed the Ferals…
A shudder tore through her. She couldn’t even think about what that would mean to their battle to keep Satanan from rising again.
As long as she stayed close to Jag, he wouldn’t let that happen. She’d started to believe he wouldn’t turn her in if he didn’t have to. She just had to make damn sure she did nothing to force him to betray her secret.
Jag sat up to catch the sandwich Tighe tossed to him. Olivia already had hers, Tighe having passed out the subs to the women first. He glanced at her bright head as she sat near his feet and unwrapped the warm sandwich. He was surprised she’d come when he’d patted the bed. The appearance of being his lapdog grated on her pride. Which was precisely why he’d done it. A dumb move since he really had wanted her close.
He wasn’t sure what the others would do if she somehow gave herself away. Kougar, he worried about most. If that Feral decided she needed to die, there would be no discussion. He’d lunge, prepared to make a killing blow. And Jag would play hell protecting her if she weren’t already within reach. Not that long ago being draden-kissed carried an automatic death penalty. With the power they possessed to suck life, most felt it was a matter of kill or be killed.
Olivia was different. She’d been hiding and controlling her power for centuries.
As Tighe handed out the rest of the sandwiches, Jag unwrapped his own. An Italian sub. All the Ferals were meat eaters, almost to the exclusion of everything else. Af
ter all, they were all part predatory animal. But if he had to eat a sandwich, he’d go for Italian every time. And Stripes knew it.
“Thanks, Tony man,” he drawled.
Tighe cut him a tight look, clearly tensed and waiting for the rest of it—the dig or the coarse reference to what he wanted to do sexually with Tighe’s mate.
When Jag left it at thanks, Tighe nodded once, his gaze wary.
Jag grunted. When had he become so predictable?
Tighe leaned back against the chest of drawers, shoulder to shoulder with Hawke, and unwrapped his own sandwich. Paper rustled as they all tore into their lunches.
Their fearless leader-in-residence gave them about a minute to take the edge off their appetites before his gaze swung to Jag. “Fill us in.”
The urge to say something snide tickled his throat, but dammit, he was becoming predictable. And he couldn’t stop thinking about what Olivia said about his doing it just to make people dislike him. He refused to believe it. And yet…shit. His own explanation, of simply enjoying having people mad at him, didn’t make a hell of a lot of sense, did it?
It was just the way he was.
That knee-jerk need to fire off with some snide comment died, and he launched into a tight, precise explanation of what they’d seen at the Mage stronghold, the corpses strung up, the number of sorcerers and sentinels they’d spotted, the power orbs throbbing with Daemon energy, and their suspicion that the Daemons weren’t necessarily under the control of the Mage but being lured back by suffering humans.
“The place is warded with magic strong enough that even Olivia couldn’t see through it.” His mouth lifted in a small, satisfied smile. “She can now.”
Tighe frowned. “Damned dark magic. We’ll assess the situation when we get there, but anyone who can’t see that place is pulling back to the vehicles. I don’t want anyone being ambushed.”
Ewan scowled. “You’d leave us behind?”
“Only if you can’t get your mind opened.”
Both Ewan’s and Niall’s gazes swung to Olivia.
No way in hell. She’s mine. Deep inside, Jag’s animal leaped to his jaguar’s feet, growling. A snarl rumbled from Jag’s own throat, drawing the surprised gazes of everyone in the room, including Olivia’s. He didn’t give a shit. If either of those Therians thought they were using Olivia’s body to open their minds, they were brutally mistaken.
Feral warrior 4- Rapture Untamed Page 14