Savage Transformation: Savage Australia, Book 2

by Lexxie Couper

  He chuckled, tracing a gentle line down her temple with the back of his knuckles. “Sorry it’s not the Hilton.”

  A soft laugh bubbled up Jackie’s throat and she cringed, the scratching pain hitching her breath. “I’ll forgive you. Did the thought happen to cross your mind to put some clothes on me?”

  Another laugh rumbled in his chest. “Well, it did, but…” He shrugged, a lopsided grin playing with the corner of his mouth.

  Her belly flipped-flopped at the subtle meaning in that smile and she let out a soft chuckle of her own. “I take it I’m going to—”

  Live.

  The word no sooner formed in her mind when she remembered Delanie. She sat up, every muscle and sinew in her body protesting the abrupt move. Waves of dark fogginess rolled over her, the base of her throat throbbing harder, but she tuned it all out and focused her stare on Marshall’s face. “Is Del okay?”

  He didn’t answer. Not straight away, at least. “They are working on it.”

  Jackie narrowed her eyes. “They?”

  His expression remained neutral.

  She ground her teeth, guilt and anger slinking into her chest. “Why am I here in a hotel room, sitting up with nothing more than a killer sore throat while Delanie is with the oh-so-secretive ‘them’?”

  Marshall’s jaw bunched at her sarcasm. “Einar’s knife penetrated Delanie McKenzie’s body completely.” His tone was brusque. Clipped. “Your wound was only a shallow nick.”

  Jackie cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’m not stupid, Rourke. You should know that by now. What aren’t you telling me?”

  He sat silent, his gaze locked on her face for a moment before he raked his hands through his hair and stood up. “We suspect the weapon Einar used to stab you both was elvish.”

  “Elvish? As in pointy ears, mystical realms and J.R.R. Tolkien?”

  He rolled his eyes, frustration pinching his eyebrows together. “You know, darlin’, for a shape-shifter, you know next to nothing about the paranormal world.”

  Jackie gave him a flat glare. “You know, mate, for a wolf, you know next to nothing about pissing off an angry, wounded bitch.”

  He studied her, and for a split second Jackie wondered what definition he’d given to the word “mate”.

  What definition did you give it?

  She stopped her fingers before they could wriggle. “So, your ex-partner is an elf?”

  Marshall shook his head, his attention flicking to her hand before returning to her face. “No. Fae, even light fae, are not employed by P.A.C. Einar must have procured the weapon from an illegal trader.”

  Jackie’s head swam with sudden prickling heat and an image flashed at her through the pain. An echo of a memory she could barely recall. A tall man with glossy black skin, silver white hair and cruel, sensual lips, a long, wicked blade marked with intricate glyphs gripped in his long fingers. She frowned, slumping a little on the mattress, and pressed her palm heels to her eyebrows. A dull ache filled her head. Her throat hurt.

  Why was she picturing such a man? Who was he?

  The image flashed through her head again, this time overlaid by another. She sat straight, fixing Marshall with a steady stare. “Daeved Einar is an elf. A dark elf.”

  Marshall shook his head again. “No. That’s impossible. Dark elves are forbidden to walk the human world. They have black skin and—”

  “White hair and eyes that seem to glow silver hate,” Jackie cut him off.

  He blinked, a sharp breath escaping him in a stunned grunt. “I would not have said it quiet so poetically, but yes.” He dragged his hand down his face, his gaze flicking around the room. “Jesus, how could Einar traverse to our world? Disguise himself? How did he fool P.A.C.?” He looked back at Jackie. “Dark elves exist in a subterranean realm separate to the human world. The laws of their She-God forbid they move beyond that realm. Like humans, there are many different races, all however, are dangerous. What makes you think Einar is one of them? How do you know?”

  “I saw him.” She frowned again. “I mean, my thylacine saw him. Knew what he was.”

  “How?”

  Jackie hesitated. How did she explain this? She didn’t fully understand it herself. “The Tasmanian tiger is old. Older than man. Almost as old as Australia. For millions of years, the thylacine’s ancestors roamed the body of land known as Gondwana. When Gondwana broke apart, when Australia was born, the thylacine as the world knows it now was also born.” She paused, her chest heavy. “The spirit of this country, this land, is entwined with the creatures that live in harmony with it. The creatures born of it and to it.”

  Marshall cocked his head, his expression serious. “You’re talking about the Aboriginal Dreamtime?”

  Jackie gave him a slight shrug. “That is one way to describe it.” She licked her lips, the dull burn in her throat making her mouth dry. “But I don’t know if that is accurate. I’ve done my best to deny my other existence since I was a teenager, and I had no one to explain it to me growing up.” The weight on her chest grew heavier at the banished thought of her early childhood and she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to remember those horrific years. Caged, tormented. Alone and abused. Wondering where her parents were. Wondering if they’d survived. She didn’t know. Not then, not now.

  She let out a ragged sigh, denying the memory before it could claim her. “It’s just a…connection…with the land and her spirit,” she continued, looking at Marshall. “Whatever it is, when Einar lured me to his…trap…I sensed a disturbance.”

  Marshall snorted. “In the Force, young Obi-wan?”

  She pulled a face at him. “You’re a fine one to talk, Pacman. Played any good video games lately?”

  He pulled a face back at her, and before Jackie knew what she was doing, the pressure on her chest melted away and she smiled.

  How does he do this to you, Huddart? How does this one man with all his secrets make you feel safe? Calm?

  Marshall studied her, a small smile curling at the corners of his mouth. “Just how old are you, Detective Huddart?”

  She laughed, giving him an indignant look. “Surely your mum taught you it was rude to ask a lady that?”

  “My mom taught me it was rude to sniff someone else’s butt without permission, but she never mentioned anything about asking someone their age.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Are you avoiding the question?”

  Jackie laughed again. “Maybe.”

  His eyes grew intent. “Why?”

  She let out a drawn-out sigh. “Time…moves differently when I am a Tasmanian tiger. A day as a human is like an hour as a thylacine. When I am in my animal form, I don’t age as a person.”

  Marshall’s gaze roamed her face. “So you’re telling me you could be, what, seventy? Eighty?”

  She shrugged, surprised how at ease she felt discussing something so disturbing. “Maybe,” she said again.

  “How have you kept this a secret?”

  Jackie swallowed, looking him straight in the eyes. “Until you came along, I hadn’t transformed since I was nineteen.”

  Marshall drew a quick breath at the confession, his nostrils flaring slightly. He returned her unwavering stare, his hands but a few millimetres from hers. Almost, but not quiet touching her. The seconds of silence dragged and Jackie’s pulse thumped in her neck, growing louder, faster, with each beat. Her nipples grew hard, her mouth dry. A low growl rumbled in her chest but whether it was hers or her thylacine’s she couldn’t tell.

  She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to take her face in his hands, brush his thumb over her bottom lip and claim her mouth as his. Wanted it so badly the lingering pain in her throat from Einar’s knife wound seemed like a fleabite.

  Oh, Jackie Huddart, you are insane.

  The skin around Marshall’s eyes tightened, his jaw bunched and he leant forward.

  “So,” she burst out, scurrying back on the mattress a little, her heart slamming against her breastbone, “tell me why you didn’t know your p
artner was a dark elf?”

  Marshall’s smile pulled into a grin, his blue eyes so sharp, his gaze so intense Jackie squirmed. He straightened, giving her a look that clearly said she wasn’t fooling him. “Dark elf magick is still a mystery. Even the P.A.C. geek squad admit being unable to comprehend or decipher it.”

  She frowned, glad to be on a safer subject. That the safer subject was the newly revealed race of her hunter and Delanie’s attacker made her want to wriggle her fingers. “How long were you partners?”

  “Five years. Long enough for me to have noticed something was amiss. Which I didn’t.” He turned his head, staring at the curtained window on the far wall. Outside, a neon light flickered, turning the gaudy flowered fabric to a static display of distorted colours. “Long enough for me to have noticed he never seemed to age.” He let out a sharp sigh. “I used to think he had a thing for Botox. According to P.A.C. and Einar himself, he was a mage. A lower order one who rarely used his magick.”

  Jackie studied Marshall’s profile. She could see the anger simmering beneath the surface of his sardonic calm, an agitated tension he was trying hard to keep hidden. Or controlled. A part of her—the female part, she was sure—wanted to smooth that tension away with her fingers, her lips. Another part—the cop part? The thylacine part?—wanted to provoke him. Jab at that agitation until he lost his leash on it and divulged the secrets he so tightly guarded. Damn it, she was mated to him for life now, even if he didn’t know it. That had to give her some rights, some privileges, didn’t it?

  She opened her mouth, ready to ask him what he had to do with Einar’s “retirement”, when he turned to her, the anger gone from his face, his eyes more serious than she’d seen them before. He lifted his hand, touching the tiny gash in her throat with a feather-light caress. “How does your neck feel?”

  The change in topic threw her off-guard. She swallowed, the contact of his fingertips sending ripples of anticipation through her body. “Better.”

  His gaze slid over her face, lingered on her lips and then focused on the base of her throat. “I will kill him for hurting you.”

  The murmured proclamation stole her breath, and she raised her hand to his, removing his fingers from her skin. “I don’t need a knight to right the wrongs done against me, Rourke.”

  “No, what you need is your mate.” He stopped, his eyes growing wide.

  Mate.

  The word hung between them, charged with crackling heat. There was no mistaking the context behind the word this time. Marshall’s expression defined it—his flaring nostrils, his bunched jaw, the searing look in his eyes. Jackie’s body defined it—the puckering of her nipples, her quickening breath, the constricting heat in the junction of her thighs.

  Mate.

  “I don’t even know what kind of wolf you are.” Even to her own ears, she sounded dazed.

  Marshall shook his head. “Does it matter?”

  Jackie’s eyebrows dipped together. “Yes.”

  He leant forward, placing his palm against the side of her neck, his fingers threading through the tousled strands of her hair at her nape. “I’m yours, Jackie.” He drew her head closer to his with gentle pressure, his whisper kissing her lips. “For life.” His lips brushed hers. Soft. Hesitant. Almost nervous.

  His warm, hard body melded to hers and a shiver of sheer joy passed through her. They’d fucked like animals twice, rutted like the four-legged beasts they were, but they’d never made love.

  Is this what this is now? Love? For life?

  Her heart quickened and she let out a shaky breath. She didn’t know. But it felt more than good. It felt right.

  He brushed his lips over hers, gentle and reverent. “For life,” he repeated on a murmur. He kissed her again, lips more fervent, tongue flicking into her mouth to touch the edge of her teeth before he lifted his head and gave her another grin. “And I’m not being sarcastic.”

  Jackie gazed into his eyes for a long moment. Her head ached with questions, but her heart, her soul, ached with love. The questions, the answers could come later. She threaded her fingers into the silken strands of his messy blonde hair and held him close, feeling the heat of his desire grow harder and longer against her belly. She had no idea where they were, whether Delanie was alive, whether Einar was dead or still hunting her, but Marshall was here, holding her in his arms, his heart beating against hers. And for a selfish, selfish moment that was all that mattered.

  With a low groan, she pulled his head down to hers, capturing his willing mouth with open lips. Their tongues met, each fierce and hungry. Wild.

  Light-headed, Jackie dragged her hands down Marshall’s back, thrilling at the smooth, sculpted curves of his muscles under her palms. A sense of weightlessness came over her, a euphoric giddiness growing stronger with every caress from his tongue, every nip of his teeth on her lips. She curled her fingers over his arse and pulled his hips harder to hers, anchoring herself to his body through a contact that was both burning and taunting. His rigid cock pressed against the sensitive curve of her mons, its powerful need imprisoned by the denim of his jeans. She whimpered, her pussy growing damp. She wanted to feel him inside her. She needed to feel him inside her.

  She needed his love, his desire. She needed to know they were more than just two animals copulating, more than just two animals under the control of their base instincts. She needed him to take her to pleasures she’d never dreamed possible.

  She needed to be with him. Connected, joined in every way.

  With an impatient growl, she pushed his hips away, moved her hands to his fly and flipped the buttons undone. Before her eager fingers could release his cock however, it sprang free, a long, thick shaft that filled her hands completely and burned her flesh with its pulsating heat.

  Marshall sucked in a swift breath, flaring nostrils brushing her cheek, tongue plunging deeper into her mouth. She slid her hand down the length of his cock, cupping his full, heavy balls in her palm before drawing closed fingers back up to his organ’s swollen head. A bead of pre-come seeped from the small slit and she captured it with her thumb, smearing the glistening, viscous fluid over the velvet-soft dome. Marshall sucked another sharp breath in through his nose, stabbing his hips forward. His cock pumped into her hand, harder, longer, an urgent need surging through its taut skin.

  That need joined Jackie’s and she moaned, pulling her mouth free of their kiss. “Please,” she whispered on a shallow breath, rolling her thumb across the bulbous head above her fingers. “Please.”

  “I want to sink into your warmth,” he stated, his voice low and shaky, as though he fought with a tremendous force. “I want to feel consumed, taken and owned by you.”

  “Then do it,” she commanded on a gasp. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

  Ice-blue eyes roamed her face and his body grew still. “Jackie, you need to know…” He shook his head, a frown knotting his eyebrows. “I...I…”

  Jackie opened her mouth, but Marshall pressed firm fingers to her lips, stopping her. “Oh, fuck, how do I say this?”

  A tight pressure closed around Jackie’s heart and she stared into his eyes. “Say what, Pacman?”

  That crooked grin returned and he shook his head, running his palm down her torso to squeeze her arse. “That you bring out the animal in me.” He leant forward and crushed her lips with his, but not before Jackie saw a sorrowful flicker fill his eyes.

  What are you hiding, she wanted to ask, but his mouth moved over hers with such wanton need her head grew giddy and she fell into his embrace, sliding her arms around his neck and giving herself over to their passion.

  With a low growl, Marshall pressed her back to the mattress, his lips charting languid paths over her lips, her chin, her jaw and back to her lips again. She whimpered again, wanting more. So much more. “Please.”

  Without a word, he pulled away from her and, his gaze holding hers, shucked his legs out of his jeans. He stood before her, naked, completely erect and her sex constricted. “Chr
ist, this wasn’t…”

  He didn’t finish. Eyes burning blue fire, he climbed back onto the bed, his hands resting on either side of her head, his knees nudging her thighs apart. His warm flesh pressed to hers and Jackie gasped, a shot of liquid delight flooding into her pussy.

  “You’re not the only impatient one here, Jackie Huddart.” His murmured words caressed her skin. “But I will do my very best to make this last forever.” He took possession of her mouth once more, the kiss ravenous and urgent. His tongue dipped into her mouth, charting the edges of her teeth, her lips. He nipped on her bottom lip, sucked on her tongue, flooding her with exquisite heat as his balls rubbed over the flat plane of her belly.

  The contact was electric. Bolts of twisting energy scorched a path straight to the gushing dampness between Jackie’s thighs. She reached up, wanting to thread her fingers in his hair, to feel the silken strands on her skin, but his strong hands stopped her, catching her wrists and planting them beside her head, holding them still as he continued to ravish her lips.

  She arched into him, the heat from his swollen balls seeping into her sex. Calling. Teasing. With a roll of her hips, she drew her sex in line with their heavy weight, grinding her mons against them in slow circles. Marshall groaned low in his chest, the vibrations tickling her nipples. His tongue lashed at hers and he pulled her wrists together, holding them with one hand as the other dragged down her arm to one uplifted breast. He cupped it, pinching its erect nipple between two knuckles until Jackie writhed beneath him, pushing her pussy to his insistent shaft and whimpering in supplication.

  A growl rose in his throat and he tore his mouth from hers, scoring it along the line of her jaw, up to her ear. “I’ve killed paranormal creatures my entire life, but never have I desired one like I desire you. When I saw you…fuck, I desire you more than life. I hadn’t planned to, but I do. Nothing will ever change that.” Teeth, sharp and even, nipped at her lobe, each stabbing pressure adding to the squirming tension in her pussy. “Nothing.”