Hot Licks

by Jennifer Dellerman

  Feeling like one giant throbbing exposed nerve, he nearly swallowed his tongue when she bent over to reposition one of the signs. It was his favorite position.

  Before he knew it, he was reaching for those curved hips when she let out a startled exclamation. “Ow.”

  Yanked from driving lust to concern nearly gave him whiplash. “What happened?”

  Gwen frowned at her palm. “I cut my hand on the corner of the sign.”

  “Let me see.” He reached for her hand, inspecting the long, shallow gash and the blood that welled. Smaller than his, her hands were strong and, given the nature of her work, surprisingly soft. Which put to mind how sensually soft she was in other, more secretive places.

  He let go before she felt the betraying tremor of need that shook his hands.

  “It’s not bad. I just need a band aid.” Oblivious to his struggle for control, Gwen shrugged off her backpack and extracted a small first aid kit. “Hold this, will you?”

  In silence, Rome watched as she quickly and efficiently cleaned the wound with a wet wipe and then slapped a band aid across the wound. “Hurt yourself often?”

  “Let’s just say grace isn’t my middle name.”

  “And what is your middle name?” There was so much he wanted to know about this woman, and not just in the most carnal of ways. Though there was no denying that was at the top of his list. In bold print. And at the earliest opportunity.

  A small smile played at the corners of her mouth.

  “Honey.”

  While he wouldn’t call himself jaded, little surprised him anymore, but this single word boggled his mind. “Honey?”

  “Yeah.” She glanced up with a smirk. “At least it’s better than my sister’s. Her middle name is Sugar.”

  His jaw dropped and she retrieved the kit from his hands. “Seriously?”

  Storing everything away, she slipped her arms back through the straps of her backpack. “What can I say. My parents are weird.”

  “We always think our parents are weird.” But at least he and his siblings hadn’t been given sweeteners as their middle name. He almost asked if she had any brothers and what theirs were, then thought it was probably better he didn’t know.

  “Yours aren’t. They’re pretty cool. Though your dad’s a little scary.”

  That shocked the hell out of him. “You’re not scared of him, are you? He’d never hurt you. Ever.”

  Gwen waved her bandaged hand between them. “No.

  It’s not that. He’s just a bit intense and quiet. Like Santos.

  I’m just never sure what they’re thinking.”

  Rome caught her hand, his dark eyes growing hot.

  “And do you know what I’m thinking?”

  She gulped air when he pressed his lips against her palm. “That’s not too terribly hard to figure out. But...”

  He felt his temper flare at the rebuttal word. If she brought up the ridiculous notion that she couldn’t get involved with him because he was her boss’s son, he just might throttle her. “No buts. Unless, of course, we’re going to talk about your delectable butt.”

  She let out a shaky laugh. “Fine. But...” she drew the word out when he narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m going to change the subject.”

  He grunted. Better than a flat out refusal. Having already tasted her lips, cupped the soft weight of her breasts, he craved more. Needed more. His beast understood, and was in full agreement.

  Easy there big boy. “Into what?”

  She resumed walking the path and Rome jumped into action to follow, the irony not lost on him how a dangerous predator such as himself was obediently trailing after this woman like a lovesick puppy. But frankly, given the nature of what he know knew was the mating heat between a cat shifter and the woman destined to be his for all time, he didn’t give a flying flip.

  Not to mention he wanted to get in those tight jeans more than he wanted his next breath.

  “Don’t you think it odd that James’s tires were slashed?”

  The question pushed past the erotic fantasy weaving in his brain and he shook his head to clear it. James had contacted Gwen this morning to inform her that some asshole had slashed two of his tires. Between contacting the police, shopping around for replacements, waiting for a tow and everything else, he wouldn’t be able to come in to work. Oh. And that he was extremely unhappy.

  “Odd as in does it have anything to do with Dennis being beat up a few days ago and the vandalism on the reserve?” Rome didn’t believe in coincidences, and even had James been able to make it out to work with Gwen today, Rome still would have stuck to her like glue.

  She shot him a troubled look over her shoulder.

  “Guess you were thinking the same thing.”

  His jaw tightened. “I also think you need to remain at the house, or barring that, never be alone.”

  She stumbled and he shot out a hand to keep her upright. “What? Are you nuts?”

  His jaguar snarled at her impertinence. “Two out of three of our rangers have been taken out of temporary commission, and I, and my family, will be damned if we allow anything to happen to you.”

  Mulling that over with a tight expression, she finally gave a reluctant nod. Fierce and independent she might be, but a fool she was not. “Tomorrow’s my day off anyway, so I’ll stick close, but I can’t not work. James and I will just stay together. Which means someone needs to be with him the next two days so he’s not out here alone.”

  Some of his tension eased at her ready acceptance, his cat laying low in his head. Waiting. “He won’t be. We’ll make sure of it.”

  As she opened her mouth for a reply, a slight rustling sound caught his attention. In a lightening fast move, he shackled her wrist and drew her to his side, pressing a finger to her mouth at the same time. Something in his face must have expressed the seriousness of the situation because she snapped her mouth shut and darted her eyes at the greenery around them.

  Slipping in front of her, he scanned both the trail and the dense line of trees bordering its edges. Alert, head cocked, he used every sense he possessed while the jag hissed in warning.

  After several heartbeats he felt her hand touch his shoulder and glanced down to see her at his side. Part of him wanted to stand tall and proud, pleased that his woman was no little simpering miss to be pampered and coddled.

  Another part wanted to knock some sense into her. He was bigger, stronger and faster, with years of experience, not to mention the shear power of a predator, at repelling danger.

  The rustling grew louder, coming from ahead and to their left, followed by voices too low to make out. He drew in a deep breath, using his shifter’s enhanced senses to draw in and analyze the scents of several individuals. Sweat, male, body odor. One in particular made his nose curl in distaste. A metallic, almost coppery scent that would have caused all his fur to stand on end had he been in jaguar form.

  Silent, he drew Gwen deeper into the forest, angling his body in front of hers, one arm held out to the side and back, silently telling her to stand still and stay behind him.

  He kept his eyes forward, peering through the limbs and leaves, and waited. Patience and precaution were required, the better to size up his enemy. He could hear Gwen’s heart race, the press of her breasts against his back with every rapidly drawn breath. He’d had a hard enough time keeping his body in check while simply walking behind her. Now he was sporting a throbbing erection that threatened to drain every brain cell left in his head. Rome grit his teeth. Focus!

  He got himself together, and just in time. Men started to emerge from the forest, about thirty yards ahead. If Rome hadn’t slipped them into the shadows of the trees they would have been spotted by the intruders. Not a big deal had he been alone, but with Gwen at his side, and his furry half to keep secret, Rome was out-numbered as five men in total scattered along the trail.

  One man had a metal detector and a large leather pack about his waist. Another held a shovel, then he turned and Rome
saw a lethal looking rifle along his back. It made his lips curl in fury because this one wasn’t filled with tranquilizers like the one he’d accidentally on purpose left behind. The only jaguar out here was him, and if anything needed to be shot, the weapon in his boot holster would suffice.

  A third man had a backpack, his hands free to reach for the gun at his hip. A fourth man also carried a shovel, and a long wood handled tool with a hook at the end. Yet, for some reason, it was the fifth male that captured Rome’s attention.

  Something about the blonde made the hair on the back of Rome’s neck rise in alarm. He’d moved from the forest, not with the stumbling steps of his counterparts, but with an otherness that Rome simply couldn’t deduce.

  One thing Rome could figure out, even at this distance; they were all clearly agitated. The wind picked up, shifted and headed away from Rome and towards the pack of males arguing on the trail. Their scents began to dissipate, their words nearly imperceptible among the rustling leaves and scattering forest creatures in search of shelter, food, or entertainment. Rome caught an odd phrase here and there, but only enough to confuse him. Frustrated, he felt a growl rumble in his throat. The cat wanted out. Wanted to stalk and attack those who dared to trespass on its territory, because it didn’t give a damn why they were on its land.

  They posed a threat to its mate and therefore they must die.

  Suddenly the blonde stiffened and turned his head slightly to the side. He tilted his face to the sky and Rome could see, thanks to the keen vision of his other half, his nose flare as he sniffed the air.

  It was reminiscent of a shifter scenting the wind, only Rome knew this man was no shifter. He didn’t carry the musky pheromone all shifters emitted, no matter what manner of creature lived inside.

  Then it hit him. That strange almost copper scent, the oddly boneless way the blonde moved. Rome felt his gums burn, rage causing his fangs to descend as a long ago memory surfaced, and in that split second, he knew what stood on the dirt path.

  Bodies scattered throughout a small village under the blazing heat of an unforgiving desert sun. So many innocent lives lost to the bloodlust of a man, a creature, far different from a shifter, yet just as deadly.

  Though its senses weren’t nearly as sharp as Rome’s, there was one thing the blonde would be able to smell from this distance. Blood. And though Gwen wasn’t gushing it, the scratch on the palm of her hand would be enough to draw the creature’s attention. Like sharks, vampires could scent blood a mile away. Rain alone would be of little hindrance, and since the wind now blew in the blonde’s direction, Rome and Gwen’s moment of discrete observation was history.

  “Run,” he rasped low, simultaneously snatching Gwen’s hand and yanking her into motion away from the trail.

  “What..”

  “Men. Guns.” Rome ducked beneath a low branch and spared a quick glance at her startled face. “We need to get to safety.”

  Gwen’s only response was a mouthed “Oh, shit” before she picked up speed and they both ran through the forest, hopping over short bushes and dodging low-hanging limbs.

  Rome’s thoughts were swirling. They needed to stay off the trails. Though it would be easier on Gwen, it would also be too easy for the blonde to catch them, and catch them he would since vamps were faster than humans, almost as fast as a shifter. Rome briefly thought of carrying Gwen and run full out, but that would last only so long. A shifter’s strength might be great, but it wasn’t unlimited. He couldn’t bench press a car and he simply didn’t know how long he could keep at top speed with Gwen’s added weight. If it should slow him down, even for a few seconds, they were screwed.

  And climbing a tree wouldn’t help. If the vampire looked up, they’d be sitting ducks.

  Rome suddenly veered to the right, finely tuned to the pounding of Gwen’s heart, her jagged breathing. Her fear only added to his anger. He had to fight the instinct to stop and tear apart those who were causing it, because as long as they lived, they were a danger to Gwen and his family.

  As much as he could take on all five men by himself, it was the vamp that held his beast in check. If anything happened to him, Gwen would not survive. Or if she did, she would wish she hadn’t.

  A snarl of rage threatened to erupt and he pressed on, knowing he was pushing Gwen to her outer limits. She would never make it at this pace to the jeep. They needed a diversion, or, barring that, someplace to hide. Maybe the old cabin. The stone and wood, along with the wind and rain, might be enough to cover the scent of her blood. Her jeans would protect her legs, but it was her hands he worried about. She’d need to grasp the top plank, and if she cut herself or reopened her wound on the rough, splintered wood, it would defeat the whole purpose of using the structure as a hiding place. If only they had a pair of – .

  Gloves! Rome might have smacked himself on the forehead if he wasn’t busy ducking and running. He’d seen a pair of leather gloves in her pack when she’d pulled out the first aid kit to slap a bandage across her palm.

  The band aid! Lord help him. Evidently his brain couldn’t function at top speed along with his feet. He stopped so suddenly that Gwen slammed into his back. He caught her before she could fall, and without a word or warning, found the edge of the band aid on her palm and ripped it off.

  Her mouth opened on a startled exclamation and Rome covered her lips with his before any sound could escape. Thankful he’d gotten his anger, and fangs, under control, he dove his tongue deep into the warm recess of her mouth, her taste a heady distraction that could blind a man to all manner of dangers. And while Rome wanted nothing more to lose himself in her taste, he had a more important goal in mind. That of her safety.

  “Put on your gloves,” he grated out when he forced himself away. “Quickly.” He turned from her and bounded several feet off to the side, never once keeping her out of sight. He buried the band aid, thankfully containing several drops of her blood, in the midst of a small tree, a small smile playing about his lips. Gwen probably thought he’d lost his mind, yet she kept her mouth shut and, he was pleased to note as he strode back to her, obeyed his command.

  Slipping her gloves on, her breasts heaving as she sucked in air, she managed to say, “You want to tell me...”

  “Not yet. We need to get to the cabin.” Those breasts were enough of an enticement in any other circumstance, but with adrenaline propelling in a heavy rush through his system, he found it nearly impossible to tear his gaze away.

  “You ready?”

  A flash of resignation flitted across her face. Small rivulets of sweat trickled from her temple and with a quick wipe of her short sleeve, she nodded.

  His chest tightened at her fortitude, thrilled beyond measure at the strength and endurance this woman, his woman, possessed. Fully aware they had only moments before the blonde showed, he paused long enough to press his lips to hers. “Just a few more minutes, baby, and then you can rest.”

  Though she didn’t appear to believe him, she neverthe-less tightened her fingers around his hand and made every effort to keep up as Rome raced over the muddy ground.

  Praying that the band aid would lure the vamp away for a few precious seconds, Rome nearly let out a sigh of relief when they broke free from the forest. Knowing he would have to boost Gwen up the side where the roof was missing, he guided her to the far side of the cabin.

  “Up,” he said, bending down as they came to a halt. He twined the fingers of his hands together to make a cradle.

  The moment her booted foot touched his palms, Rome lifted her high and fast so she could grasp the top railing and pull herself up.

  “What about...” Before she could finish her sentence, Rome had jumped up and eased himself on the precariously thin board. It groaned beneath their combined weight. In less than a blink of the eye, Rome had his arms full of curvy female and jumped from the wood precipice.

  Muddy water sprayed in every direction when his boots hit the ground on bended knees. He looked down to see Gwen staring up at him wit
h wide eyes.

  “How did you...”

  “Shh.”

  Her dark eyes narrowed into mere slits, her breasts a soft weight where they pressed against his chest. Mindful they weren’t yet out of danger, Rome reluctantly let go of an increasingly irritated Gwen and stepped back. He looked up at the top wood plank to see it now slanted inward, several cracks running along its length. But it still held together and was high enough that no one, except those who knew the building inside and out like Gwen, would be able to spot it as their entry point.

  Next, he peered about the dim interior walls until he found what he needed. To the left of the front door, where a window was boarded up, were several tiny gaps where the wood had worn away. Turning in a circle, Rome spotted well over two dozen more of those minute holes. If the roof had been intact and the sun out instead of the dark clouds of another impending storm, those holes would probably light up the interior like a hundred laser beams.

  He walked over to one of the gaps, having to take a huge step up from the large hole dug by those men out there with shovels. Rome didn’t believe there were two sets of treasure seekers running amok and destroying his forest.

  “Shouldn’t we call for help?”

  He held up a hand at her whisper as movement at the edge of the clearing caught his eye. “No time. They’re almost here. In fact, turn off your phone. If it rings, we’re dead meat.”

  It was her soft gasp of alarm that made him wince at his words. “Which is why I should text for help at least.”

  “And tell who what? That several armed men have entered the reserve and we’re stuck in the cabin like cornered prey?”