“Why do you think that?”
“It’s not an idea that comes from reason. When I’m a lion or a dragon, those animals recognize you. I think that’s why you’re so attracted to me.”
Anjali mulled over his speech, attempting to understand the implications. “So the instant connection I felt between us was not driven by how incredibly hot you are. It was just—chemistry? Well—biology, anyway.”
“Yes.”
Anjali thought for a few seconds, then shrugged. “So what?”
“So it’s not real.”
Anjali grazed the edge of his cheekbone with her thumb and stared into his blue eyes. “Humans are hard-wired to be attracted by a symmetrical face, signs that a person is a good provider or is fertile. No one claims relationships based on those things aren’t real.”
“You don’t feel . . . manipulated?”
“Is it just lust?” Her chest tightened. She didn’t want love, but she didn’t want to be a convenient body either. “Do you care about me?”
“I care.” His expression was diffident, his gaze focused over her shoulder, but the gravelly tone of his voice told her it was true.
Anjali nearly quivered with relief. She didn’t want more, but she couldn’t stand less. “Then that’s all that matters.”
She pushed him back on the narrow bunk, eased onto his lap, and kissed him. The heat between them was like nothing she’d ever known. She twisted her fingers in the cotton of his black T-shirt, straining to get closer, shedding her inhibitions like an old skin.
Despite the long night and stifling heat, he smelled like heaven to her and she nuzzled his cool neck, found the corded sinews of the muscles leading to his jaw and nipped him gently. She could feel the vibration of his groan in her chest and answered it with a moan of her own.
Jake’s lids grew heavy as Anjali laid soft nibbling kisses back up to his mouth. His whole world constricted to the places their bodies touched. He thrummed with heat. Her soft breasts molded against his chest, raising his excitement to fever pitch.
His fingers sought the buttons of her blouse and tangled with hers.
“Wait,” she said, and his heart stopped. He sought her lovely face and found her eyes brimming with tears.
“What is it?” He asked the question, but the answer gnawed in his head. Yeller eyes. Though the mating bond sparked her body, deep inside she didn’t want him.
The pain overwhelmed him and he wanted to tug away, but her damn hand kept him anchored in place, unable to tear his gaze from her.
She opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head. “I have no way of knowing without running tests, but—”
Tests? The shards of rejection lacerating his heart morphed into ice and froze the oxygen in his lungs. He scrutinized her, afraid to hear what she had to say. “But?”
She let out a sigh so heavy her whole body seemed to deflate. “I may be sick.”
“May be?” He watched her, waiting for her answer, trying to hide the fear rolling through him.
She turned her face to the rough-beamed ceiling, shaking her head, then leveled her dark gaze at him. “My doctor called a couple of days ago. I have an elevated white blood count.”
He scrambled to make sense of her words. He knew the white blood cells fought illness, but not much more. “And what does that mean?”
“Well, it could be nothing. Stress.” Her shoulders bobbed.
He almost snorted. Stress couldn’t put that expression of helpless terror in her eyes. “Or? What else could it be?” Dread settled in his belly and curled around his heart.
She shook her head at the ceiling again. “Some sort of infection—”
A damn scary infection from the way the words slipped out as if to speak them was to conjure the illness from the air. “What else?”
She was silent for a minute. He could hear the sink dripping in the cramped bathroom, but his focus centered on her, this woman who had become the fulcrum of his world in only a few short days. The lion paced inside him, pushing for release, wanting to run, unable to cope with the panic and apprehension spreading though the man. He clutched her shoulders and gave her two tiny shakes. “What else?”
She licked her lips. “Leukemia.”
He rocked back onto his knees. “Cancer.”
She nodded, her eyes solemn.
Unfamiliar with the terror swelling through him, his eyelids closed. Cancer. Fuck.
He cradled her cheek in his palm. “Do you feel sick?”
“I had a low-grade fever yesterday morning, but otherwise, I feel OK.”
He brushed a kiss on her brow. “We’ll get out of here and as soon as it’s safe, we’ll find you a doctor. If it’s cancer, well, we’ll deal with that. They have new treatments every day.”
Her mahogany gaze swept across his features as if memorizing them. She nodded mutely and took his hand from her cheek and guided it back to the buttons of her shirt.
He shook his head. “Are you sure? If you feel sick—?”
She smiled and something in his chest ruptured into a thousand pieces. “Neither of us knows what’ll happen next. Let’s live in the moment.”
He hesitated. God, he wanted so much more than a moment, but how could he ask for more when it might be all they had?
His fingers found the slick plastic of her buttons. Together, they peeled back her blouse. The lacy white bra she wore lifted her full breasts, but didn’t do more than veil her rosy nipples.
He reached around to find the catch and again her hands were there. The undergarment fell away. She panted as she watched him take her in, her full breasts rising and falling with each breath.
He reached out, his hand shaking, his gaze fixed on her face, to cradle her soft skin with his hand. The silky feel of her made his knees weak.
His palm tasted her turgid nipple. She quivered. The scrape of the knotted bud against his hand shot a current through him. He watched as her pupils eclipsed all but a sliver of mahogany iris.
A tiny smile stretched his mouth at her obvious excitement. His other hand closed over her.
She slid her hand down his chest and caught the edge of his shirt. He helped her strip it off. Her gaze was greedy on his chest and abdomen. Other women had admired his body, but the effect of their regard had ranged from leaving him indifferent to making him feel vaguely unclean. The excited desire in Anjali’s face pleased him beyond words.
The scent of her arousal filled the air, spicy and thrilling.
A teasing light sparked in her face. “Beautiful,” she said, covering with her hands the areas she’d admired. Her touch burned a path down to his waistband and landed on the fastening of his jeans.
He shucked them off.
Anjali didn’t know if she could take much more. Her lungs labored to process the warm air. The sight of him was so earthshaking her whole body seemed to contract.
He didn’t give her near enough time to drink him in. He grasped the belt loop of her slacks, reeled her to him and reached for the fastening.
A rush of uncertainty liquefied her knees, but she let him unbutton her, then slip them off, taking her panties with them. The hungry expression on his lean face as she stood in front of him erased her fears and sent a frisson of excitement down her spine.
She stepped up to him and sought his mouth again.
His body felt cool against hers in the heat of the room. His mouth was as fiery as the blazing desert sun outside the window.
She slid further into his embrace.
They kissed with a frenzied need that only fanned the flames, then fell together onto the rickety bunk.
Anjali gasped and gripped Jake’s forearms as he lowered his head and enveloped her nipple in the wet heat of his mouth. The pleasure was almost too intense. The draw of his lips on her nipple, the sight of his dark head against her pale skin, were so erotic she writhed, groaning. He looked up, his eyes vibrantly blue in the light slanting from the windows. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked, his gaze still lock
ed with hers. She clutched at his shoulders. “Jake.”
His eyes gleamed at the rising pitch of her voice.
The air felt cool on her breast as he abandoned it to lick his way to its twin. He lavished a similar attention on her other nipple and she arched off the bed beneath him. “Come into me now,” she begged, but he wasn’t finished.
His tongue flicked moist patterns down her body. He parted her folds and repeatedly stroked the creamy aching nub, first with a finger and then with his tongue.
“Oh God, Jake, please.” No way was he a virgin, no matter what he said. But at that moment she didn’t give a damn.
He dragged himself back up onto his elbows over her, parted her thighs with his own. The silky feel of him, so hot and hard on her stomach, made her cry out. He probed her gently, just rubbing his slick skin on hers.
She adored the feel of his body, large and lithe. His maddening scent enveloped her. The desire in his eyes, half-closed with pleasure, made her feel like a temptress.
Her legs enfolded his hips. She wrapped her arms around him, pulled him into her, her hands caressing the contours of his back as he entered her, filled her.
The room disappeared. She rose to meet his thrusts. Short, excited gasps and moans, she barely recognized as her own, rasped in her ears.
Jake groaned, threw back his head. She could feel him pulse inside her and the knowledge of his climax thrilled her, drove her over the edge.
She dug her nails into his skin and convulsed under him in a swell of ecstasy so profound the world could have marched in and she wouldn’t have known it.
He sagged against her. Weak with the aftermath, she pressed a kiss to his salty shoulder, hugging him to her.
They stayed that way for several long minutes. Finally, Anjali’s heart rate resumed its normal speed.
Jake swiveled to the edge of the bed and reached for his clothes. He didn’t look at her and she suddenly felt shy and awkward.
He dressed quickly.
She watched him for a moment, searching for a sign of his feelings, then took refuge in humor. “Jake Finn,” she said in a deep announcer’s voice. “You’ve just rocked a woman’s world. What are you going to do now?”
Jake gave a tiny laugh. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, how did you learn so much pop culture? I mean, you’ve only been here for a few years, right?”
“We do get American movies in India, you know,” Anjali said. She hesitated, not wanting to think about the past but needing to share. “After my mother died, I had trouble sleeping. A person can only study so many hours in the day, so I watched movies.”
“Why American movies? Why not Hindi movies?”
She shrugged. “It was too painful, I guess. I didn’t want to be reminded of what I’d lost.”
He nodded and averted his gaze.
A spasm of pain gripped her chest. Would she be forced to leave him? Or worse, was he going to be one more thing she would lose?
He lifted his head, like an animal scenting the wind, and held up a hand. “I hear a helicopter.”
Chapter 23
When the sound died away, Jake turned to Anjali. “Gather the supplies. We’ll have to hoof it. We can’t risk flying with helicopters in the air.”
Anjali sighed. Great. More walking. She supposed she should be more afraid, but somehow, Jake made her feel protected, at least from Kincaid and his men, and there was only so much she could think about the other thing.
Minutes later, she hefted her purse, now heavy with cans.
He took it from her. The cans clanked and sloshed as he slid the strap over his shoulder.
How a man could appear deadly with a woman’s shoulder bag slung over one shoulder, she had no idea, but it in no way detracted from the air of sheer power cloaking him.
A shiver rippled through her as she remembered the excitement of his touch. Her skin tingled.
He glanced at her. His pupils expanded and she realized he could detect her renewed arousal. He slid his hand inside the open collar of her blouse, wrapped it around the back of her neck, and dragged her close.
Despite the urgent intensity on his face, his mouth met hers softly in a kiss so tender she wanted to cry. Again she wondered what she was doing. She wouldn’t risk her heart and he’d suffered enough.
He pulled away, resting his forehead on hers. “I will keep you safe.”
The words were a vow, but something about the way he said them sent a shaft of fear rocketing through her. Air snagged in her throat. “What are you going to do?”
“After we get you to Las Vegas, I’m going after Kincaid. As long as he’s alive, he’s a threat to you.”
Anjali swallowed. “You plan to confront him in his own territory? In the building where he kept you captive for years?” She let anger bury her fear. “Ugh! You are such a . . . a man!”
She shoved him back and marched out the door.
Jake trailed Anjali out the door, her spine under her thick, glossy braid appeared ramrod straight. She radiated righteous outrage. Probably best if he didn’t try to talk to her.
She brushed by a mound-like grayish bush no more than knee height.
“Stay on the path. It’s easier to see the rattlesnakes,” he called.
She swerved away from the vegetation and steamed ahead. He found himself biting back a grin as he followed, increasing his pace to keep up.
He’d almost reached her when she suddenly sagged, arms wrapped around her middle.
He caught her before she could hit the desert pavement. Scooping her up into his arms, he cradled her against his chest, his pulse surging with terror. “What is it, Anjali? What happened? Are you bit?”
Her face was blanched paper-white. A thin film of sweat shone on her cheeks. She shook her head. “No. I—it hurts.”
“Where?” He ran one hand over her legs and up her arms, searching for a cause. “Where are you hurt?”
“All over. Oh.” She jolted in his arms, as if shocked by electricity, and her eyes closed.
“Anjali!” He shook her, gently. Her head lolled on her neck, wisps of hair clinging to her damp face. He brought her mouth up to his cheek. A whisper of breath tickled his skin. He almost sagged with relief. She was alive, but what was wrong with her?
They’d had plenty of water. He surveyed the sky, sun-bleached to a pale denim. It was hot, but they hadn’t been out in it long enough for heat stroke.
Her illness. God, even when Kincaid had had him strapped down for some cruel-ass experiment, he’d never felt so helpless.
He raced her to the spring and splashed water on her face. His heart thudded like a bass drum, each beat banging painfully against his chest. Was he losing her?
He embraced her, trying hard to be gentle, his heart fighting to resume its normal rhythm, trying to think of something—anything he could do, then she gasped and opened her eyes.
She mumbled a word, but it was too garbled for him to understand.
“What?”
She sat up, blotting her forehead, shiny with sweat, with a slender forearm.
Jake peered up once more at the painfully blue sky. “Damnit. Don’t do that to me again. I thought you were dead!”
He set her down and knelt next to her, helping her drink some water, his gaze playing over her drawn features.
“It wasn’t . . . exactly a . . . picnic for me.”
A laugh bubbled up inside him and echoed on the rocky slopes nearby. He hugged her again, inhaling the scent of her hair and skin. “How are you feeling now?”
She licked her lips and swiped the moisture from her face with her hand. “I think I’m OK. I’ve never felt anything like that.”
“Do you think it’s your illness?” He whisked back a damp strand of hair that had glued itself to her cheek and felt the base of her throat to check her pulse, happy to find it steady.
She felt her cheeks with her palms. “Your guess is as good as mine, but it seems likely.”
Finally, when she seemed stronger, he g
ot to his feet. “Can you stand? I hate to push forward but whoever Kincaid has sent after us is probably getting closer.”
Anjali stood. She was a little wobbly and he propped a hand under her elbow. Damn, she felt fragile. She should be in a hospital.
He’d hauled a sick woman from the safety of her home into one of the most dangerous places on Earth. The thought cut deep, digging a furrow in his chest big enough to hold a rising well of rage and guilt. He wanted to tear something to pieces, but this adversary was beyond his reach.
Something must have shown on his face because she took one step and halted as she caught sight of his expression. “What is it?”
He shook his head. “I’ve done nothing but put you in danger since the moment we met.”
Anjali’s lush mouth firmed. “Kincaid put me in danger.”
He held her, her hands warm in his, as she tested her legs. Whatever had thrown them together, whatever might rip them apart, he could support her now.
She leaned against him, smiling with the tight brevity of someone pretending everything was OK, then threaded her fingers through his and they began to walk.
A few hours later, Jake opened the can of peaches with a single claw.
Anjali grinned. “I see you’re getting used to your abilities. I find it fascinating that there’s a flash when you shift completely, but no light at all when you only partially change.”
Jake eyed his claw as it retracted, and his finger returned to normal. “We’ll add that to the list of things to ask my brother about someday.” He made sure his tone was light, but in the back of his mind the ghost of her illness lingered, whispering that there might not be a someday.
Anjali seemed more at ease with his animal nature than he was, but then she’d never had to face a part of herself that wasn’t entirely under her control.
Still, everything that’d happened in the last few days gave him hope he could master his animal side.
Anjali pressed her lips together, her face sad, and he wondered if he’d said something to cause that expression, or she was thinking about her illness. Since he’d rather surrender to Kincaid’s tender mercies than talk about that, he settled for turning the subject back to his abilities.
In Like a Lion (The Chimera Chronicles) Page 18