Karen’s lips brushed his, cutting of his words. “Were about your own fear.” Her mouth touched his again. “Kiss me, Jag. Make love to me and show me how much you missed me.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, but he could barely contain his need to claim her as his own. “I won’t see you hurt again.”
Her hand went to his cheek. “You won’t. I know you won’t.”
“I wish I could feel so sure.”
“Trust in me, in us, and you will be.”
“I want to,” he whispered.
“No one is stopping you but you,” she responded. “Kiss me, Jag.”
But she didn’t wait on his response. She found his mouth with hers and he was lost. The soft tease of her kiss quickly claimed him with temptation. He’d fought hundreds of battles over the years but this one, he couldn’t win. His woman, his life, she had power like no other over him.
He was lost and found all at once.
Chapter 18
Karen tasted like honey and vanilla wrapped in temptation, just as he remembered, so sweet and perfect.
Jag savored that flavor, tenderly brushing her jaw with his fingers, angling so he could deepen the kiss. Without question, she was beautiful. Yet, his attraction to her went so much deeper than the physical. It was the way she touched him inside that made him burn for her. The life she breathed into his existence. Her exterior only housed what was inside. The soul that called to him. The woman he’d loved, and thought lost forever.
His emotions raged with intensity, a mixture of love from the man and the lust of the beast. The primal part of him clawed at his core, begging to take Karen. It wanted to claim her as much as the man did. And Lord help him, he wasn’t sure he had the will to tell it no. He needed this too much. He needed Karen like he didn’t remember needing anything in his life. Not since the day Caron had died. Not since he’d wanted to turn back time and run faster, fight harder, do anything to bring her back to life.
Karen moaned into his mouth and he swallowed the sound, greedily claiming it as proof of the impossible reality of her presence. Of the impossibility of her being in his arms, in his life. It drove him into a haze of desire with the force of a head-on collision. Logic and caution dissolved in an explosion of pure demand.
Jag tumbled from a sitting position to lie down on the mattress, pulling Karen with him so that they rested side by side. Kissing her. Touching her. With his body and hands, he molded her against him. He wanted all of her, to feel her naked body against his. To kiss her from head to toe. So much so he didn’t even know where to start.
Hand on her lower back, Jag pressed her hips to his. Every inch of him burned with the touch, every nerve ending screaming with life. Yes. This was what he needed, what he’d been missing.
She was what he needed.
Her arm slid under his shoulder and she snuggled closer, as if she, too, couldn’t get enough of him. Their legs entwined, hips parallel. He could feel her heat, his aroused body settling in the V of her legs. Slow, he reminded himself. Savor this.
But the beast was clamoring with demand, the man falling into the shadows of its existence. He was beyond fear for what that might mean, beyond thought. Those things no longer guided him.
He knew only what he felt, what he desired, acting on it without hesitation, acting on pure instinct. “I missed you so much,” he whispered, running fingers through her hair, easing his head back enough to look into her eyes. He wanted her to see the fire there, to run if she would before it was too late.
But she didn’t run nor did she hesitate. “Prove it,” she replied, her voice laden with emotion, her lips hungrily seeking his again.
He needed no further urging. Jag gave her what she sought without words, taking her mouth, and kissing her, hot and hungry, deep and full of demand. His desire to claim her, body and soul, rapidly becoming a driving force, pushing him forward. Taking the man and leaving the beast, just as he wanted to take the woman.
Hands sliding under her shirt, soft skin became his reward. She shifted, sitting up to tug it over her head. Jag could barely breathe as he watched her undress. Hanging by a string, he barely contained his desire to simply rip the barriers away.
He simply watched her. Wanting. Burning.
After the shirt came her shoes, but his eyes lingered on the soft ivory of her skin as she gave him her back. Her long blond hair sprayed across her shoulders, reminding him of dreams where the silky strands teased his chest and face. The room was dark but for a small light by the bedside, casting the room in a sensual spell, his cock hard as he devoured the beauty of her presence. The anticipation, the waiting, as she undressed, had him mesmerized but, oh, so on edge.
Forcing himself to look away, he went to work, taking off his own clothes, standing up beside the mattress, shoving down his pants and ripping apart the unneeded bandages in the process.
Before he could turn around, before he could find Karen again, he felt the touch of her hand on his back. The soft touch, erotic and gentle, sizzled on his skin, stilling his actions. Jag felt his arousal thickening with the promise of what was to come, his blood pumping with the fire of desire.
Karen’s fingers trailed over his skin, over the location of his injury, a delicate caress leaving behind scorching flames. “I can’t believe it’s healed,” she whispered.
His body had, indeed, healed from his injury, but neither magic nor medicine could cure what still needed healing. Only Karen could do that. Only she could take away the emptiness eating at his insides.
He turned to face her, intending to thank her for all she had done for him earlier, but her hands were all over him, taking his words with her actions. Touching him as he rotated, her body pressed to his as soon as he faced her.
“Oh, my God, you feel good,” he murmured against her lips, Karen’s arms wrapping his neck, pebbled nipples teasing his chest hair.
And then they were kissing, devouring each other with their mouths and hands. He found one of her breasts, molding it with his palm and tweaking the nipple, his other hand skimming her perfect backside and then pulling her tighter against him.
He fit his manhood between her thighs, and together they moaned with the pleasure of the joining. Her head tilted in pleasure, exposing her neck, hands on his biceps. But it was her breasts that drew his attention, rosy-red nipples filling his gaze, begging for his mouth.
When she fixed him in a hot stare, her eyes were dark with passion. “I want you inside me, Jag,” she whispered, the words a plea. “I want to feel us like we were.”
A low growl escaped his throat at the erotic play of her words on his body. Jag barely remembered acting then. Somehow they were on the mattress, Karen beneath him. Jag used his knees to press her legs farther apart, settled between them with an urgency bred of the beast. An urgency she fed with her touch. Her hands were in his hair, on his face, calves wrapping his as she arched her hips to receive him. She wanted him. And Jag had never, ever denied his wife anything she wanted.
He didn’t plan to start now.
Driven to satisfy the yearning between them, he sank deep into Karen’s wet heat. But when he thought he’d be driven to press onward, he stilled, his face buried in her neck. The impact of their joining washed over him, overwhelming in its potency.
Jag leaned back, staring into her eyes, confirming she felt what he did. The tender heat of her gaze said she did. With that confirmation, peace came over him, drowning him in the rightness of them being together, in the perfection of the feelings that had crossed over from one lifetime to the next.
For long moments, all he could do was gaze into her eyes, lost in their joining, feeling their intimacy surrounding him, inside and out. It was Karen who moved first, her hands caressing his skin, her soft voice whispering his name.
With abruptness, his mood shifted, and he could feel the primal side of him taking hold. His jaw clenched, his muscles tensed with the need to move, to take. He stared down at her, reaching for wo
rds, but unable. The rage of sudden lust was too fierce. He fought it, feeling the danger of its primal making. Feeling the shift from simply primal need to beastly demand.
He’d only thought he was out of control before, but it had been nothing compared to what flared within him. Karen seemed unaffected, staring up at him, her eyes tender, too tender for what must be blazing in his. Her fingers brushed his jaw, a familiar gesture he’d missed so damn much.
“Take me,” she said, as if she responded to what pressed him onward. As if she knew he needed urging. “Take me now.”
In his head the monster that was himself, no matter how hard he denied it, screamed to obey. Obey Karen. Obey the beast. Take her…devour her….
Fire coursed through his veins and he pulled back and thrust into her, pumping back and forth, in and out of her, no holding back, no hesitation. Her wet heat stroked him, silently telling him to give her more. Harder, deeper, longer strokes. She met him with each lunge, each stroke, her hips rocking to meet his.
Karen’s breasts bounced with the movements, pleasing his visual senses just as her slick, wet heat pleased his physical ones. Every inch of his skin sizzled. Every nerve ending screamed with life. He’d been lit up, set on fire with a rage of passion like none he’d ever known, not even with Caron.
Harder he thrust. Faster. His face nuzzling her neck again, his nostrils flaring with her sweet scent. So synthesized to her presence, so in tune with all that she was, he could hear her heart beating, hear her blood coursing through her veins. Her hand was on the back of his head, her body caressing his hair, whimpers of pleasure teasing him, pleasing him. He was lost to the moment…lost.
And then, another shift in mood, another change he couldn’t control Before Jag knew what was happening his cuspids were extending.
“No!” he screamed, but he didn’t dare lift his head. He had just enough logic left, just enough conscious thought to not want her to see his teeth. This had never happened to him except in his dreams. “This can’t be real.”
Karen responded by lifting off the bed, tilting her hips upward, tempting him to move against her. She tore down his mental defenses, physical need taking control as Jag lunged into her. He forgot about his teeth, forgot about the danger. He sunk deep to her core, the beast screaming in his head, in his body.
Karen cried out in pleasure, tensing before she cried out in orgasm. Her spasms overtook him, milking him for his own release and delivering ecstasy beyond anything he’d ever known, ever dreamed of.
Thrusting one last time, Jag shook as he spilled himself inside her. But the release unleashed another need, powerful and beyond his control. His teeth sunk into Karen’s shoulder, coppery sweet blood slicing through his taste buds, feeding his hunger.
Karen stiffened, her fingers tightening on his hair, but he barely felt it. The taste of her blood on his tongue spurred a hunger for more. Jag growled low in his throat, a familiar sound more beast than man, born of battle not lovemaking. Yet, at the same time, he felt no desire to destroy. No desire to hurt her. He simply had to taste her, to know her on the most intimate of levels.
Karen’s body began to ease, her fingers loosening in his hair. “Jag,” she gasped, and then, “I…Jag…I love you.”
The words reached inside his head, reached beyond the sensation of the act he committed. This was Karen. Caron. He loved her. He shook his head, trying to clear the yearning to steal just one more drink, blinking as he took in the puncture marks on her shoulder. Oh, God. What had he done?
He’d tried to pull back sooner, tried to reel in the beast. What if he had taken too much blood? He had to get Karen to Marisol. Then, he’d get the hell away from her and stay away.
So she’d be safe.
One minute Karen was beneath Jag, the next he had her in his arms, making a quick path toward exiting the room. “What are you doing?” she screamed, panic in her voice. “We’re naked! Don’t you dare take me out that door.”
“You’ll bleed to death,” he said ignoring her, still reeling from the impact of what he’d done to her. He could have killed her. “I have to get you to Marisol.”
Karen shoved at the door, using her foot, her hand, anything she could get placed on the hard surface, making Jag’s efforts to reach for the knob impossible.
He grunted. “Damn it, Karen. I’m trying to save your life.”
“If you take me out of this room with no clothes on you’re the one who’ll need saving.”
“You’re hurt,” he insisted.
“I’m not hurt! You, on the other hand, are going to be if you don’t put me down!”
He considered throwing her over his shoulder, desperation taking hold. She’d died once because of him. Jag wouldn’t let it happen again. He went for the knob again.
She made a frustrated sound and stiff-legged the door. “Will you please—” the words came through clenched teeth, but turned to a shout again “—just listen to me!” She drew a breath, lowering her voice. “Please.” Her eyes locked with his. “Please, Jag. I swear to you. I’m not hurt.”
He shook his head, rejecting that idea. He knew what he’d done to her. “Put me down and see for yourself,” she challenged.
“You think you’re fine but you are not fine. You’re in shock. For God’s sake, I just bit a hole in your shoulder.” Shame stung his gut and mingled with his words, uncontainable. Defeated, he slid her to her feet, cutting his gaze, unable to look at her. “I’ll be back. I’m going to get Marisol.”
She spread her bare body wide in front of the door. “Not naked you won’t.”
He reached for her as if to move her aside and she was no match for his strength. “Cariño, I’m getting help and I’m getting it now, if I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you to do it.”
That seemed to get her attention, her eyes going wide. Still, stubborn as she was, she stayed in front of the door. “I don’t even think it’s bleeding.” Her hand went to the wound and then she held it out for his inspection. “See. No blood.”
His brows dipped and he shoved her hair aside, inspecting her shoulder. “Impossible. It’s nearly healed.”
He touched the wounds, amazed at the reality of what he found. She wasn’t bleeding. But…he’d bitten her. She reached for his wrist, her touch calming him. Comforting when she should be running.
“See,” she said, her gaze snagging his, “I really am fine. Whatever happened between us, it didn’t hurt me. And whatever bad you think you did, you didn’t do. You aren’t bad, Jag.” She searched his face as if looking for acceptance. She repeated her words in a whisper. “You aren’t bad.”
For several seconds, he stared into her beautiful blue eyes, forgetting the urgency of help, replaying that moment when he’d bitten her. The force of need pulsing in his body. But then something had happened. Something had changed. The beast had succumbed to the man when Jag thought only the opposite to be possible.
Was it possible that all this time, the beast had only controlled him because he had allowed it to?
“I don’t understand any of this,” he said, studying her skin again, seeking confirmation she really wasn’t bleeding one last time. It was almost as if he hadn’t bitten her at all, the pricks were shrinking so quickly. “I still want Marisol to check you out.”
“That’s not necessary.”
He shot her a look that said he wasn’t about to listen.
“Fine then,” she said. “Can you at least put some pants on before you go get her?”
He wanted to argue, still fearful he could have caused her serious damage, but he did as she asked. Illogical as it was considering the timing, a part of him even enjoyed her insistence he get dressed. The idea that she claimed him, that she didn’t want the rest of the world seeing him as she did, warmed him a bit. Still, he made quick work of shoving his jeans over his legs, not bothering to zip them before he was out the door.
The sooner Marisol checked out Karen, the better he’d feel.
Once he kne
w Karen was safe, then and only then, would he figure out what all of this meant.
Karen watched Jag depart before rushing toward the closet.
The idea of getting caught with one leg in her pants and one out didn’t appeal. As much as she wanted to go to the mirror and look at her shoulder, she had to get decent before she ended up with a room full of arrogant men. Around this place, she never knew what to expect.
She needed to talk to Jag, but he had to calm down a little first. The truth was, she really was fine. More than fine, actually. The first prick of Jag’s teeth on her skin had shocked her more than hurt. After that, the intimacy of the act had been amazingly erotic. There had been nothing violent in his action. Like in the dreams, it felt as if it had to be. As if this was part of their destiny.
Greeted with a row of neatly hung shirts, she yanked down a shirt and quickly pulled it over her. It went to her knees, sufficiently covering her, thank goodness. She’d managed to button it almost all the way up when Jag and Marisol appeared in the doorway.
“Are you okay?” Marisol asked rushing forward.
“I told Jag I’m fine,” Karen said, eyeing him where he stood by the door, as if he was afraid to come near her. If only he would talk to her. They needed to be alone. He was trying to make himself into a monster again, and she couldn’t let that happen.
“Let me be the judge of that,” Marisol said, motioning for Karen to sit. “He bit you?”
Karen sighed. “Yes, but it’s nothing.” She settled on the end of the bed as Marisol stopped in front of her. “A prick. He’s freaking out like he nearly killed me or something.” Karen eyed the Healer. “What about you? How are you? The last time I saw you, Rock carried you out of here.”
Marisol cut her gaze as if she was hiding her expression. “Show me your shoulder.”
Karen shrugged the shirt down a bit, not missing how Marisol had avoided her question. “It’s not even bleeding.”
Marisol eyed her skin and then ran a finger over it. “There’s nothing here.” She eyed Jag. “Nothing but a tattoo.” Her gaze slid between the two of them. “Are you sure you weren’t both dreaming again?”
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