“Why? Why are you doing this?” She hated that her voice sounded desperate even to her own ears. “You don’t really want me. You despise me, Jeremy.”
“Sure I do.” He laughed, the warm sound dark and wicked and rich, and he smiled just a little at her. “I’ve been angry at you for years, Jillian, but it doesn’t seem to matter. I still want to rip your clothes off and go at you right here.” He slammed one wide palm against the thick trunk behind her. “Just press your back against this pine, hold your sweet little ass in my hands and get a taste of what you were always too afraid to let me near before.”
Her chin trembled as she said, “I was never afraid of you,” even while her conscience screamed, Liar! She’d been afraid of making herself vulnerable to him—of discovering that he didn’t love her the way she’d loved him. Afraid of him breaking her heart. Afraid of choosing him over what was expected of her. Afraid of standing up to her parents and the League and making her own decisions, controlling her own destiny.
“Do us both a favor and stop wasting our time with lies,” he said sharply, “because you never were any good at it. You’re even worse now.”
She opened her mouth, but didn’t know what to say, the words lodging in her throat until it felt as if she’d choke on them.
Jeremy pressed closer, a dark, dangerous force that made something hot and tight and achy unfurl in her belly, a warm glow of sensation slowly spreading like liquid heat through her veins. “Just out of curiosity, who was it that came to you with that story about me and Danna? One of your so-called friends? The same ones who used to hit on me every time you weren’t looking? I never touched them, but that didn’t stop them from offering what I didn’t want.”
“No. It wasn’t—”
“Forget it,” he muttered, moving away from her. “What the hell does it matter now? What’s done is done. I don’t need your trust anymore. Don’t need it, and don’t want it. But I’ll take what I didn’t get before.”
She wrapped her arms tighter around her body, struggling to hold herself together. “You’re out of your mind, Jeremy.”
He laughed, just staring at her, the look in his hazel eyes too piercing and beautiful to hold. Even in a rage, he called to her, that brutal, intense energy reaching out, grabbing at her. “So Mason is always telling me.”
“Then maybe you should listen to him!”
“Maybe I should,” he murmured, staring intently at her mouth, a provocative glint in his smoky eyes that made her shiver.
“At any rate—” he sighed, sounding drained but focused “—I’m home and I’m here for a reason. You know that, Jillian. I know you want what’s best for your wolves, and you’re too connected with the Silvercrest not to realize that something bad is coming. The pack is going to crumble from within if the one responsible isn’t stopped. I can help you.”
“I don’t need your help,” she argued in a trembling rush, knowing very well it was a lie. She loved her wolves, but she also accepted that a select few were capable of bringing down the entire pack, their narrow, close-minded, inherently hateful view of the world threatening to choke off life for the rest, like a blood clot slowly working its way to the brain. Once it struck, the effects would be terminal…and the Silvercrest would be lost.
She knew Jeremy’s words rang of truth, but self-preservation demanded she argue. It was the only sane thing to do! She couldn’t work beside him, no matter how tempting it would be to have his broad shoulder to lean on and his keen intellect to offer guidance. Facts were facts, and she knew her limitations. If she were forced to be near him, she would give in, fall victim to the wild, raging rush of pleasure that called their bodies to one another…and in doing so, hand him the power to destroy her.
It was times like this when she actually hated being a witch, hated the limitations it put on her life. “I appreciate the offer, but I can handle this on my own.”
“Like hell you can.”
Her chin lifted, driven high by pride. “The League can offer me guidance.”
His eyes darkened as he moved back into her personal space, the brackets around his mouth tight with frustration, his voice low, full of gravel and bite. “If we’re going to make this work, we have to get past our history and try to trust one another. Your precious League isn’t going to be able to help with this one, which is why I’m going to tell you something that no one but the Runners and Dylan know. The rogues who were following Simmons knew how to dayshift.”
Jillian blinked, swallowing against the lump of surprise in her throat. “Th-that’s impossible. I heard rumors, but I thought it was just panic talking.”
His right hand lifted, rubbing at the pale scars on the side of his throat, gifts from a run-in with the rogue wolves. “Trust me, it’s true. Simmons taught them how…and someone taught him. We learned from Robert that it’s a power held by—”
“Those who serve on the League of Elders,” she cut in, her voice hollow with fear. Anthony Simmons was the rogue Lycan that Jeremy’s partner, Mason, had defeated in a fight to the death just days before. Obviously Robert Dillinger, Mason’s father and a Lycan who had been denounced from the League itself when he took a human wife, had shared what he knew with the Runners—that only those who served on the League possessed the ability to teach another how to dayshift.
“I know about it,” she admitted in a hoarse whisper. “I was told about dayshifting when I formally accepted my position, after my mother stepped down. It’s a defense mechanism—a weapon of war, meant to be used in the event our way of life is threatened. To teach it to a rogue would be punishable by death, their only intent to make it easy for the rogues to kill humans. And their own kind. It even masks their scent, so that they’re impossible to track.”
Jeremy nodded, his expression bleak. “Yeah. You getting the picture?”
She shook her head, unable to get her mind around it. “You think we have a traitor on the Silvercrest League? That one of the Elders has turned and…what? That they want to turn our wolves rogue and set them free on the humans and the Bloodrunners? For what purpose?”
“We’re still working on that,” he murmured, and she could tell there was more he wasn’t telling her. Apparently his exchange of trust only went so far. “But no matter what their motive, you’re in over your head here and you need me. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“Why?” she asked, her confusion genuine, not coy.
“Why? Why? Why?” Jeremy laughed, the rough sound lacking any real humor. “Can’t you ever say anything else, woman?”
“I just don’t understand why you want to help me. I really think it’d be best for both of us if you just…kept your distance and stayed away from me.”
“That’s going to be pretty hard to manage,” he said with another one of those slow, easy smiles, “considering I’m going to be inside of you.”
Panic clawed at her now, biting and sharp, her mind too aware of the fact that her body wanted nothing more than to take him. All of him. Every hot, hard, incredibly thick inch—and never let him go. Her voice shivered when she spoke. “Not in a million years, Jeremy.”
“Don’t,” he rasped softly, lifting his hand to touch his thumb to the corner of her mouth. Her lips trembled from the light, calloused touch, making her want to turn away at the same time she wanted to turn her head and nuzzle the warmth of his palm. “Don’t say something that’s going to embarrass you later on, after I prove you wrong.”
His words slapped her in the face like a dousing of ice water. “You arrogant bastard,” she choked out, jerking her mouth away from his touch. “It’s amazing one man can have such a high opinion of himself. I wouldn’t tou—”
“Stop,” he grunted, cutting her off. His eyes narrowed, holding her, making it impossible to look away. “We have a connection, Jillian. You can pretend all you want that it doesn’t exist, but it isn’t going to just disappear.”
“No. You’re wrong, Jeremy. There is no connection. Whatever we had
,” she said coldly, “you killed it a long time ago. I’m not a naive little girl anymore. I’ve learned how to take care of myself. I don’t need you. Not now. Not ever.”
He leaned close, curling his rough hands over her shoulders, and she turned her face away…but he merely whispered into the sensitive shell of her ear, as if he was telling a secret. “You just keep saying it enough times, and maybe you’ll start believing it. But we both know the truth. I’ll hunt you down if I have to, Jillian, but we both know how badly you’ll want me to catch you in the end.”
“You can hunt me,” she gasped, struggling to jerk out of his hold, away from the dangerous, evocative heat of his mouth, “but you’ll have to chase me to hell and back before you ever catch me.”
With the touch of his calloused fingertips upon her chin, Jeremy slowly pulled her face back to him, staring down at her through thick, honey-colored lashes. The intensity of his gaze made her heart lurch, his hazel eyes dark and heavy with possession, as if he owned her.
“I know what hell’s like,” he told her, the huskiness of his voice like an intimate caress, shivering across her skin. “The threat of it won’t scare me off.”
His soft breath felt warm and sweet and wonderful against her trembling mouth, teasing her with the heady, erotic promise of a kiss that Jillian knew she shouldn’t want—but did. Badly. And the slow, crooked grin kicking up the corner of his mouth said he knew it, knew just how sharply the keen edge of anticipation was cutting into her.
“So I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that.”
“Do better than what? What are you talking about?” she asked thickly. She was stalling, because she knew very well where he was going with his seduction routine.
“You’re gonna have to convince me, little witch.” Jeremy laughed softly, kissing the corner of one eye, trailing the rough-silk texture of his lips across her cheek, before nipping playfully at her tender lobe.
“C-convince you of wh-what?” she stammered. “That you’re crazy?”
“Feels like it. Feels like I’ve been crazy since the day I set eyes on you.” He shifted a fraction closer, overwhelming her with his heat, his scent—with the intense, rugged masculinity that was so much a part of him. “You’re going to have to convince me of the one thing that we both know you don’t have a damn chance in hell of doing.”
She breathed in too sharply, trapped by the possessive power of his gaze.
“You’re going to have to convince me that you don’t crave me the same way that I crave you—and you’re going to have to make it good, Jillian, because I can promise that I won’t make it easy on you.”
She shivered. He smiled in response. And before she could draw her next breath, his mouth claimed hard, deliberate possession of her own.
Chapter 4
The seeking touch of his lips against hers was a provocative answer to the churning want that had raged through Jillian’s body for so long. Through so many sleepless nights, and so many frustratingly empty days, when she’d found herself surrounded by people…and yet, utterly alone.
“Jeremy, please,” she whispered, tearing her mouth away. “Don’t do this.”
He kissed the fragile skin beneath her eye, the sharp edge of her jaw. “Do what?”
“I won’t give in,” she gasped, feeling him nip the sensitive tendon at the side of her throat. “I can’t.” She could hear the desperation in her voice, and knew he could, as well.
His lips moved in a soft, deliciously erotic caress against her skin as he spoke. “You’re letting your fear control you, Jillian.”
“What do you know about fear?” she demanded, her voice cracking, bleak with emotion.
“I know it scares the hell out of me,” he confessed in a gritty rasp, his breath warm and damp, “thinking that I might have lost you during one of those challenges.”
“Damn you, Jeremy.” She tried to stumble back, but was caged in by the thick trunk of the tree, his hard body pressed against her front. He was a dark, raging presence before her, trapping her.
“I’m going to make it hard as hell for you to deny me,” he warned in a ragged tumble of words. Then his mouth claimed hers again, angry and hot and hungry.
Sweet Jesus. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. But who cared? He made it so much more than a mere kiss. It felt too intimate, too carnal, like the decadent, provocative things he did to her in her dreams.
Jillian knew she should push him away, but more than that, she wanted to pull him closer. The details, so shocking and electric, overwhelmed her. The sexy, slightly rough texture of his lips. The silken stroke of his talented tongue. She could taste his hunger, his heat, and it was like going under…falling into him. Everything pulsed through her with a sharp, shattering awareness. And yet, she was lost, floating, her head fuzzy with the rioting sensations as his tongue claimed her mouth more deeply, the kiss slow and eating and deliciously sweet, like warm, melting honey.
She moaned, giving up, rubbing her tongue against his, and everything changed.
With a low, hoarse curse, Jeremy crushed her breasts with the muscular wall of his chest, while taking deeper possession of her mouth. It was something decadent, hungry and invasive, the way he penetrated her, shoving past any resistance, smashing it beneath his dark, persuasive need…Only, she wasn’t resisting. Not anymore.
Jillian trembled, gasping. He growled low in his throat, moving against her, and she could feel the hard proof of his erection, long and thick enough to make her breath catch. Her hands lifted, the cool tips of her fingers touching in a butterfly caress against the scorching heat of his cheekbones, and she flinched from the warmth of his skin.
“Touch me,” Jeremy groaned against the corner of her mouth, nipping at her bottom lip, then diving back into the kiss with a breathtaking intensity that made her toes curl. “Put your goddamn hands on me, Jillian.”
The shaken, guttural words slipped through her system like a dizzying rush of pleasure, all but making her purr. God, yes, she wanted to. Wanted to put her hands on the hard, lean lines of his magnificent body and learn him by touch, taking him in the way someone who’d lost their sight could lose themselves in another world through Braille. He was an unknown landscape she wanted to explore until she was privy to all its secrets, until it was so much a part of her she knew it better than she knew herself.
Jillian slipped her tongue past his lips, lost in the dark, honeyed sweetness of his taste, and took the aggressive sound he made into her mouth at the same time she pressed the flat of her palms against his ribs, fingers splayed, wanting to touch as much of him as possible. His body communicated its hunger through his skin, burning her, even with the barrier of his shirt between them. But she wanted flesh. Wanted to feel the silken texture of his skin, the blond whirl of hair that circled his navel, then trailed in a daring arrow toward the blatant, rigid proof of his lust.
Moaning deep in her throat, Jillian slipped her hands under the hem of his shirt and clasped his hot skin at his sides, just above the waistband of his jeans. His breath shuddered in his chest and he panted against her lips as he pulled away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against hers. The hunger and chaotic mix of emotion Jillian had always carried for this one man surged through her, filling her up, giving her the courage to do what she’d never done before.
Now, she didn’t have a choice. Her body wouldn’t let her fight what her heart knew was going to hurt her in the end. Biting her lower lip, she trailed her fingertips to the waistband of his jeans, then slowly stroked them inward. Any second now she was going to touch that intimate, powerful part of him that she’d never explored when younger. A fine sheen of sweat coated his skin, his flesh burning hotter. His lips pulled back over his teeth and he stopped breathing.
Her fingers pulled closer…closer…and then she heard her name being called out over the eerie silence of the forest.
“Jillian? Are you out there?”
She wrenched her hands away and shoved against his ches
t. “Sayre?” she tried to shout, breathless, wondering how she’d let herself get into this situation. She lifted her wide gaze and almost jumped from the searing look of lust darkening his eyes. His jaw locked, and he finally reacted to her pushing hands, taking a step away, the front of her body left chilled at the loss of his incredible heat.
It terrified her, how badly she wanted to pull him back to her.
Taking her hands from the firm muscles of his chest, Jillian pressed them to her sides, and tried to find a measure of calm, even while her heart hammered out a vicious tempo beneath her ribs. “Sayre?” she called out again. “Where are you?”
“Right here,” her sister answered, the last word trailing off as the young woman stepped into the small glade and caught sight of them. “Oops,” she whispered, blushing, her blue-gray eyes wide with surprise. The ends of her curly, strawberry-blond hair just grazed her jaw, completing the fey look created by her unique features. Her nose was delicate, her chin sharp, jawline almost fragile. Her skin was as luminous as a pearl, the arc of her cheekbones always flushed with a wild color of rose because Sayre could never move at a normal pace. She was boundless energy and exuberance, like a hummingbird always flitting from one spot to another. But she was wise beyond her years, her big eyes steady and calm within the thick fringe of her lashes. She was a wild spirit with a pure heart who never let others down, and she was the closest friend Jillian had ever had.
“Um, sorry,” Sayre murmured, her curious gaze moving from one to the other. Jillian tried to avoid blushing, but knew her face was crimson. “I was so focused on finding you, I didn’t pick up on the fact that you aren’t alone.”
“It’s okay,” Jillian said firmly, stepping out from between the tree and Jeremy’s body, needing the space to breathe. “Jeremy and I were just—”
Before she could finish the thought, Jeremy took a step toward her sister, his green eyes full of startled surprise. “Sayre?” he whispered, while a slow grin curved his mouth. “I don’t believe it. Is that really you?”
Last Wolf Hunting Page 5