With a glance across the room, he noticed the floor-length mirror. Slowly, he rose to his feet and with ungainly steps crossed to the silvery object, staring abjectly at the creature whose image confronted him. He filled the frame completely with his broad, hide-covered shoulders and chest, with his fathomless black eyes and permanently jutting erection that practically touched the mirror's surface, it extended so long. Planting one hand along the edge of the mirror frame, he reached with the other and enclosed his cock, slowly stroking it. Curious about its natural texture and feel. After all, he'd avoided his true form for his entire life.
The sensations that shot through his body caused his other hand to crush around the wooden frame. Gods, nothing could have prepared him. As sensual as he had always been, as much as he'd craved and sought sex, gods. Gods. Nothing, nothing, he thought, trembling with every tug he gave his thick, coarse length.
Shelby, he wanted to cry, pressing his face against the glass. Shelby, please. Have mercy. Have mercy on me tonight.
Newly purposed, he spun back toward the door that separated them. He'd never needed a woman's touch quite like he needed hers at this moment. Hope had taken him to nirvana and back, but what he needed tonight was to feel Shelby Tyler's acceptance. And by All, he needed the peace and release that only she could offer him.
The door that separated their two rooms opened gently, and Shelby bolted upright on her bed. Jake stood in the doorway, hesitating, a slip of moonlight limning his body beautifully. And he truly was beautiful to her in that moment.
"Come back over here, you big lug," she whispered, opening her arms to him. "Right now."
He kept his distance, tilting his head slightly to the side and studying her. "I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart. It's the last thing I want to do."
"I know that. Just come here," she practically begged, feeling tears burn her eyes once again. "Please come to me, Jakob."
Very slowly, he moved toward her, closing the distance between them. "I know all the memories going on in your head right now, when you look at me. I get that."
She swallowed, shaking her head. "They don't matter. Just come here."
When he stood unmoving, feet planted wide apart, she finally climbed out of bed. Taking his large hand in hers, she led him to lie down. She threaded her fingers together with his, feeling how the pads of his fingertips were calloused and harsh—yet his fingers themselves were long and elegant. Beautifully formed, like he might play a masterpiece on the dulisthrama. Or along the length of her body.
They settled beside each other on the edge of her bed. "I know I frighten you," he admitted in that thick vibrato of his, turning to face her.
She planted a palm against his chest, feeling the fast, uneasy tempo of his heartbeat. "I'm falling for you, Jakob," she admitted without even meaning to do so. "And that terrifies me."
"I won't hurt you," he promised softly, reaching his long fingers to stroke her cheek. The rough texture of his hands against her smooth skin aroused her intensely.
"We're gonna do this my way, okay?" she said. "I'm in control for once."
"Anything you ask of me." He gulped visibly, his long jaw twitching with emotion.
"Lie down on your back," she coached him. "Right there, just flat on your back. I'm gonna show you how this can work right."
Blinking his large black eyes, he nodded, unfolding his rangy body elegantly along the length of the bed. With both palms, she stroked his chest, feeling the tough skin, and smiling at the look of catlike pleasure that came over his face. Once again, the alien, rhythmic sound began in the back of his throat.
Without hesitating, she straddled him, planting her much smaller hips atop his. His long erection pushed against her belly, giving a jerk as she adjusted herself. Bending low, she kissed him gently on the lips, amazed by their satiny smoothness. On a breath, she whispered, "Your mouth's like velvet. So soft." Shockingly soft. With the tips of her fingers, she stroked his lips, and his purring sound grew much louder.
Lifting onto her knees, she reached between their hips and took his swollen erection within her palm. The moment her fingers folded about him, he arched wildly into the mattress, his full lips parting with an expression of ecstasy.
"Never," was all he could seem to moan, despite working his mouth and jaws to say more.
"Never what?" she teased, running her fingertips along his length.
"Never … this amazing," he gasped, turning his head to the side with a strangled cry of pleasure.
She slid her hand along his erection again, loving the play of brutal harshness that melded with the same softness of his lips. Again, he squirmed beneath her, helpless and gorgeous because of it.
He was hers completely, totally controlled, totally helpless, and she'd never been wetter for him.
"Take me inside of you," he half begged, thrusting his hips upward, trying to find her opening. She lifted out of reach.
"My rules, cowboy," she reminded him. "My timing."
When he opened his black eyes and stared up at her, the emotion in his expression was so leveling, so much more than she'd expected, she knew there'd be no waiting. She raised up slightly, bearing down atop him so that several inches of his hardness slipped into her.
He clutched at her hips, already almost to the edge, and wished like hell that he could get all the way inside of her. Her long blonde hair loose and wild about her shoulders, the moon filtering in from the windows beyond them … well, she was the closest thing to heaven that he'd ever hoped to find again.
"More." He panted, jutting his hips upward, trying to get in deeper. "Please take more of me. I want you to have all of me."
Hell, he didn't care that she'd reduced him to begging. He didn't care if they both died in an hour. This moment was so beautiful, so perfect, he could live off the memories of it for the rest of his natural life.
Rotating her pelvis slightly, never taking her gaze off of his eyes, she managed to come down on him more securely, several more inches sliding up inside of her.
"Yeah, baby, yeah," he moaned greedily, right as she began to rock and move against him, gyrating like the sweet, wild thing he'd come to love.
Oh, gods in heaven, he did love her, he realized with a swelling feeling inside of his chest. Somehow, this woman had taken his heart completely.
"I love you," he blurted, falling into a frenzied pace that matched her own. "Shelby Tyler, I've fallen so hard for you, so deep. I… love … you!" he shouted, not caring how loud he was. Not caring who heard … and not even caring that she didn't say the words in return.
She cradled his naked form from behind, slowly stroking her fingertips along the ridge of his scalp. Tears flowed down her cheeks, and occasionally she would press a kiss against his bare head. Their lovemaking had been off the charts, beyond anything she had experienced with him before in his human form—and that had been amazing enough. Maybe the intensity was because of their desperation, their fears at being held captive; and maybe because they were finally baring their souls to each other fully.
His ragged, thick breaths caused his chest to rise unevenly as he slept, and she dared to run her fingertips across his hairless abdomen, trailing them along his muscular, defined pectorals. One thing was certain: He possessed an absolutely mythic body, defined by planes of muscle and tanned skin. If not for the hidelike texture, she would have considered him blessed by the gods. But even the rough quality of his skin electrified her body, gave him an edge of danger that drove her wild.
Mentally she compared the contours of his musculature with those of his humanized form. And, even oddly enough, of the man he'd once been, Scott Dillon. How many faces could this lover of hers show her? It was chilling, and she began to tremble against him. With a downward glance, she studied his thick shaft, the way it saluted skyward, the soft skin that covered one side, and the much harsher hide that encased the rest of it.
All Antousian men were permanently erect—she'd learned that one the first time she'd killed
one of his kind, horrified to see a tenting bulge in his uniform pants even after she'd slit his throat. A fellow soldier had whispered vile things in her ear about how depraved the Antousians were, that they were forever saluting and ready to rape. Later she'd learned the real truth of it in a textbook. She'd also read, much to her chagrin, that it was a topic of great shyness and embarrassment for many Antousian males. They put a lot of effort into concealing their members, tying them down with a leather sling so the bulge wouldn't pop through their pants and wouldn't distract them from the tasks of their everyday lives.
Only then had she remembered that the Antousian she'd killed had been stabbed along the thigh, his uniform rent. Undoubtedly she'd forced the poor fool's cock to spring free, almost as if it were begging for some last moment of pleasure. She shivered, remembering the look of him that day, and again cast a tentative glance toward Jake's prominent, jutting erection.
Pressing her lips against the top of his head, she realized he didn't even know about those kinds of clothing rituals or how to treat his own body. He had no experience whatsoever with what he truly was—hence his overwhelming stimulation at having his Antousian cock stroked for the first time in his life. Even after he'd pumped up into her, throwing his head back with animal-like cries of pleasure, filling her with his thick alien semen, he'd remained taut as a fully cocked K-12—longer, she would have sworn, than when he'd first entered her.
She kept stroking the crown of his head, rubbing her fingers across the ridges, at once fascinated and repulsed by his body. With him sleeping, she could study it freely and let her gaze roam the length of him, touching, exploring. But flashes of memories warred for dominance in her mind: She saw the Texas warehouse going up in flames, heard the high shrieking screams of the Antousians who'd been caught in the explosion. Fell to her knees again, wailing at the knowledge that Nate was inside, dead … and that he'd betrayed all of them so mercilessly.
I cared for you, she heard Nate telling her a few hours earlier. Total meshdki. He'd ruined her, tapped her dry so that now, when she'd found the true love of her life, she had nothing left to give. Her heart was too damaged; Jake was too much a reminder of all the horrors she'd experienced.
If only … if only her past had been different, she thought, tears brimming in her eyes. If only her heart weren't so terribly broken.
He stirred slightly against her, and she wrapped both arms about him, closing her eyes. The thing that she couldn't admit—couldn't bear to confess, not to him or even to All—was that she'd found sex with this particular Antousian wildly arousing, even in his natural state. The form of her enemy.
Never again, she swore, reluctantly releasing her hold on him. I can't love my enemy, even if his heart is pure. I can't want this Antousian body and the memories it brings back.
As if hearing her thoughts, Jake moved, taking hold of her arms and wrapping them low across his abdomen. The lamplight bathed his body in a golden hue, causing his tanned skin to appear radiant. She heard the smile in his voice when he mumbled, "Hey, sweetheart. You awake?"
She kept herself still, closing her eyes and feigning sleep, letting her breathing assume a quiet, even rhythm. For a long moment, he kept his hands over hers, then blew out a contented sigh, drawing first one of her hands to his mouth and then the other. "You sleep, then, sweet Shelby."
Jake believed that she loved him, and gods help her, she did. Terribly, beautifully, she was just crazy in love with the man now lying in her arms. So much so that she was terrified of him. Totally frightened beyond reason because he had the capacity to destroy her even more thoroughly than Nate once had.
Jake believed that this was the beginning of a real future together for them, not what it actually was: the heartbreaking end of what might have been. If she were a braver soldier—at least on this emotional battlefield—she would tell him everything right now. After all, he of all people deserved the truth; it was the only fair thing to give a man whose heart had been battered and destroyed like this one's had. But she didn't want to be another person who hurt him—not yet, not until she absolutely had to. Perhaps that was the reason why she said nothing, but lay with her legs still wrapped about him and let him believe for just a little while longer that their hearts had melded as one.
Chapter Twenty-two
Shelby woke to find Jake on the far side of the room, already dressed. He'd covered her with a blanket, tucked it up neatly beneath her chin and around her body as if she was precious to him, priceless. The loving care such treatment displayed made her chest tighten.
She blinked her eyes, watching him drop into an intense set of push-ups, unaware that she was observing his maneuvers. His Antousian forearms rippled powerfully as, over and over, he dipped toward the floor, then lifted again. Clearly he was working to keep himself primed and ready for whatever might lie ahead of them. With a slight stretch, she turned in the bed and noticed that day was breaking outside the window.
Jake popped to his feet. "You're awake."
She smiled at him, yawning. "Barely."
He started moving toward her when a thunderous noise from the steps outside interrupted him. Someone was coming, and Jake dropped into a crouch beside the door while Shelby scrambled for her discarded clothing. But she didn't have time to so much as pull on her dress before the door opened loudly and several soldiers filed in.
The leader, a mahogany-haired woman, waved the others into the room. Jake's reaction to this woman's appearance surprised her: Instead of tensing up, he relaxed slightly, almost as though he knew her.
And then the last member of the group entered. At the sight of him, Shelby literally shrank back against the wall.
Not him, not again, she thought, beginning to tremble all over. She tugged the blanket protectively over her naked body, wishing like hell that the human Tierny wasn't back in her physical space again. A protective hand slid to her throat as she recalled the way he'd manacled her.
Why hadn't she dressed sooner? Why hadn't she been prepared, she thought, but all her fears dimmed to nothing the moment that her Jake laid eyes on his enemy. Before any of the gathered soldiers could stop him, Jake rushed Tierny and grabbed the bastard's neck with a strangehold.
"Why the fuck'd you do it?" Jakob snarled at the man, his Antousian biceps bulging with unrestrained power. "You tell me why right now!"
Tierny's human eyes bulged wide as he pried at the strong alien hands clasped about his throat. The dark-haired female barked a command, and the other soldiers began backing out of the door.
"Who … are … you?" Tierny rasped, and after a long moment, Jakob let him drop to the floor like dead weight. But he gave no quarter, squatting level with his crumpled foe.
"Who am I? I'm your enemy, that's who I am. I'm the man whose wife you murdered five years in the future." With a menacing, deadly snap of his Antousian jaws, he went on: "I am Scott Dillon. And now you will tell me why you were there, on that battlefield, and why you killed my mate. Otherwise"—Jakob curled back his upper lip, growling like a feral creature and eyeing Tierny's exposed neck—"I'll kill you now, you human freak."
Jake bore down on his prey. Years. Years he had waited for this moment of payback, but he'd be damned if he didn't find out the reason behind Hope's murder before finishing Tierny this second time. He needed answers, craved them almost as much as he did making the pathetic human before him suffer for his crimes. Like Hope had suffered, and baby Leisa had suffered.
Tierny rasped, sliding a hand over his throat as he tried to recover, his green eyes cold and menacing.
At last, the human spoke. "You're blaming me? For your wife's death?" He coughed, sputtered … and then, before Jake could anticipate it, he lunged against him, knocking him to the floor. Jake's large bald head hit with a crack, and Tierny was atop him in a flash.
Nothing could have prepared Jake for the words that the human snarled at him next. "You Antousian nank" he roared, slamming a fist against Jake's long jawbone. "You're the reason my wife died
. You. I blame you! I've been hunting you down for three years."
Again, a fist slammed into Jakob's jaw with a cracking sound that caused bright spots to appear before his eyes. "Wh-what? I never hurt your wife. …"
"You slept with her! Just another one-night stand for you, but for me—" The human went wild, pummeling Jake's face harder and harder. From his violent outburst, Jake realized exactly how Tierny's wife had died—at the hands of her murderous, jealous husband. Not my problem, Jake thought, determined to regain control of his adversary. He had to protect Shelby, had to protect Hope in this time. In a roaring frenzy, Jake rose, thrusting the smaller man off of him.
The tables now turned, Jakob had his opponent pinned up beneath his massive, alien weight. "I slept with lots of women," he snarled, snapping his jaws against Tierny's face. "All over town. If your wife was one of 'em, that's your problem. But you killed my wife and my baby. In the future, you robbed me of everything." Jakob slid his rough hands about the man's throat, choking again. "Now you will pay."
"My wife … died," the human gurgled at him. Jake had to understand the truth and allowed his eyes to glow bright, soul-gazing his enemy. The waves of fury and hatred that radiated out of the man nearly caused Jake to pass out, the blackness of all the emotions were that terrible. It was true: The human had murdered his wife in a jealous rage. Not because of any particular one-night stand, but a whole string of them. The one with Scott had just been the one to finally send this killer over the edge. And he'd fixated on Scott as the cause.
"Your wife died because you killed her," Jake shot back at him, finally understanding the truth after so many years. "And so you killed mine to punish me … for your own crimes."
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