The Beast Within

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “And now is one of those times,” she confirmed.

  “Now it shouts for attention and we shall give it what it wants.” He smiled. “But make no mistake, little Marisol. We will win.”

  Chapter 2

  Karen finally felt the 727 touch down near her hometown of Brownsville after twenty-four hours of travel, including two canceled flights and a cluster of bad luck. When she’d finally boarded the last flight in her passage, she’d thought the trouble had ended. Not so. She and a hundred and twenty other passengers had sat on the runway two hours before takeoff. Two hours with no circulation and a plethora of nasty moods.

  She was beginning to feel like some evil force was working against her getting home to her sister.

  But finally, she was on the ground, only an hour’s drive from her destination. Now, if she could just get Eva on the phone. So far every attempt had come up dry and it had Karen tied in knots inside with worry.

  “We’re here, pretty lady.”

  “Yes,” Karen said, teeth grinding together. “We are, indeed, here.”

  The announcement came from Bob, her travel partner by seating default, and the final test of her composure on this incredibly long and frustrating trip. Good ol’ Bob who had forced his life story on her. She now knew he was forty. Divorced. An insurance salesman. The list went on. He’d talked while downing four of those miniature bottles of rum, each one making him more obnoxious and flirtatious. The fifth bottle had ended up in her lap, her thankfully dark-colored slacks still damp from the mishap.

  “How are you getting into Brownsville, sugar?” Bob asked, leaning his arm behind her seat, crowding her as he had for the past four hours. He smiled, his eyes glazed from too much booze. “My car is here. I can drive you into town. Maybe buy you dinner.”

  Like she’d get in a car with a drunk. “No. I have a rental car I plan to make good use of.” She reached inside her purse trying to find her phone to no avail. “Damn.” She started digging in the cushions.

  “What’d you lose?” Bob asked, his voice slurred as he started trying to assist.

  “My phone.” A moment later, their heads connected and pretty darn hard for that matter. Her hand went to the spot of impact. “Ouch.”

  Bob reached out to touch it, as well. “Let me see,” he said. “I’ll rub it and make it feel better.”

  She pulled back, almost hitting her head on the window this time, biting back a remark. With the luck the past day had delivered, biting remarks were more likely to excite anger than restraint on Bob’s part. Still, when his hand touched her hair, she wanted to scream. “No.” The word was crisp. “Stop.” A whiff of rum invaded her nostrils, and she inwardly cringed at the scent. Bob was a prime example of why she stuck to Diet Coke when she traveled. “I’ll find it when we get up. After everyone gets off the plane.”

  A few minutes later, as she followed the signs directing her to the baggage-claim area, recovered phone in hand, Karen dialed her sister’s number. Unfortunately Bob was still by her side. He’d insisted on helping her find her phone, thus leaving her with a problem she didn’t have time for…getting rid of him. After ten rings and no answer, Karen hit the end button on the phone, upset her sister still hadn’t answered.

  She sighed as Bob pointed out their luggage area, feeling both tired and defeated. There was no escaping the man, shy of being rude. She could only hope her luggage would come soon and Bob would leave sooner.

  At times like this, Karen could almost wish for a knight in shining armor. But only for a minute. Bob coughed and stumbled, and she grimaced at the walking, talking proof, there was no such thing in her future. Not that she’d ever thought as much. For some reason, Karen had always felt she wasn’t meant for the traditional happily-ever-after, so she’d never wasted time thinking about it. But Eva had. Eva had wanted marriage and kids and the white picket fence. Mike had wanted the same things.

  Karen’s chest tightened at the thought. A buzzer sounded and the conveyor began to move. Relief washed over Karen, urgency building inside. She needed to recover her bags and make fast tracks to her sister’s side. That meant getting rid of Bob with whatever means necessary. She hated being rude but at this point, unless some other brilliant plan slid into place in the next few minutes, she saw no other option.

  Bob had to go.

  Jag stepped off the exit walkway from his plane, his visit with Salvador behind him, but without the answers to the questions he’d sought. Why he’d thought this trip was a good idea he didn’t know.

  With rapid steps, he walked past rows of gates, yearning for the sanctuary of the ranch, the place that brought him the closest to peace he ever found…which wasn’t saying a lot. The plane ride had certainly held none.

  Sleep had come halfway through the flight, but it did not deliver rest. It had delivered yet another dream. The darkness of slumber, the comfort of darkness…they were no more. This dream had been more confusing than the others. It had been of Caron, of his wife. The dreams of the past few weeks were always erotic, but this was the first involving his wife. The first where the woman had taken on Caron’s appearance.

  Without any luggage to claim, Jag started to bypass the collection area when he caught a glimpse of a woman standing beside a conveyor belt, her profile in view. Long blond hair, slim with sultry curves in all the right places. Recognition slammed into him, stopping him in his tracks. His heart pounded against his chest, a drum beating loudly in his ears as the sounds around him blanked. Someone barreled into him from behind, but Jag remained unmoved.

  “Hey, buddy, watch it,” the man said from behind, but Jag didn’t even bother looking at him. The vision before him had him spellbound.

  The impossibility of her presence clung to a moment in time, stilling him into a frozen state. Yet, it was true. The woman from his dreams was here, now, in this airport. He’d suspected she was real, of course, just based on the few hints Salvador had given him about her. Still, seeing it, confirming her flesh-and-blood presence, delivered a jolt.

  Shock behind him, Jag started toward her, acting on instinct, ready to confront her. Before he could get to her, a man stepped to her side, complicating Jag’s plan of attack. Slowing, he stopped a foot away, within hearing distance, pretending to watch bags pass on the conveyor. Watching her interact with the stranger, sensing her discomfort with the man before he ever heard her words. Feeling an instant need to protect and defend her. An ironic feeling, when for all he knew, she was the devil in disguise. A seductress bent on calling him to evil.

  “No,” she said to the stocky, bald man, “I don’t need help.” She stepped toward the conveyor. “Excuse me. I need to grab my bag.”

  “I’ll get it for you,” the man said, his words slurred as if he’d been drinking. He moved forward at the same time she reached for a small leather bag passing by. The two collided and she stumbled backward.

  Jag double-stepped, finding his way behind her just in time to catch her before she completely lost her balance. His hands went to her shoulders stopping her fall, his chest and body protecting her softer one. The heat of arousal darted through his body like an electric charge. Instant. Scorching. Her intake of breath told him she felt it, too.

  The scent of jasmine flared his nostrils, familiar, strong, delivering memories with its impact. She smelled exactly as she did in his dreams. For a moment, his eyes shut, images of her ivory naked perfection flashing in his mind.

  He leaned down, whispering in her ear, “Are you okay?”

  “Hey, you, let go of her.” The bald man’s breath, thick with the scent of rum, was suddenly close. “The lady’s with me.”

  Jag ignored his more primal instinct, the one that wanted to yank the man by his poorly knotted necktie and then toss him a few feet.

  Responding before Jag could, the blond seductress shoved out of Jag’s grip and turned to face him. Her skin was pale ivory perfection that contrasted with her full, red lips. And her heart-shaped face held an angelic quality. The minute h
er gaze locked with his, he saw her blue eyes go wide with surprise that quickly turned to confusion. The same reaction he’d had when he’d first noticed her. Either that or it was a damn good act. The latter had to be the case. Meeting like this couldn’t be a coincidence. And if he didn’t plan their encounter, surely she had.

  “I’m fine,” she said, responding to his inquiry, running her hands through her hair as if trying to ensure it was in order. Her gaze never left his face. “Do I know…?” She glanced at the bald man and stopped midsentence, her attention returning to Jag, a pleading look on her beautiful face. A plea that made sense as she said, “I thought you’d never get here.”

  Jag’s brow inched upward as understanding took hold. She wanted to be saved from the drunken man. Fine. He’d save her. Then he’d get answers. In agreement, he gave her a subtle nod.

  In a flash, she was standing next to him, arm linked with his. “Thanks for everything,” she told the bald man. “My fiancé’s here now, though, so I’m all set.”

  Jag wasn’t sure who was more surprised by the announcement—the drunk, bald man or himself. Either way, a grumble later, the drunk was gone and Jag went into motion, revolting against the crazy warmth her words had evoked. What the hell was wrong with him?

  He grabbed her hand and led her toward the escalators. “What are you doing?” she asked, protest in her voice. “Hey!”

  Jag didn’t respond, stopping just out of hearing range of the crowd and pulling her into his arms. One hand went to her lower back, melding her close, while the other went to her cheek. To most it would seem a happy homecoming, two lovers saying hello after too much distance. Too much time.

  To Jag it was an effort to control her. “I don’t like games,” he said. “Who are you?”

  “Games? Excuse me, but you’re the one who just dragged me across the airport against my will. You’re lucky I didn’t scream.”

  “Why don’t you?” he demanded but he didn’t wait for her response. “That wouldn’t serve your agenda well, now would it?”

  “Agenda?” she asked. “Are you crazy or something? I didn’t scream because you seem familiar. Who are you?”

  “Who are you?” he countered.

  “I asked first. Who the hell are you?” she demanded, her fingers digging into his chest. “Talk fast or I’m going to scream. How do I know you?”

  Her bottom lip trembled, perhaps in anger. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. It became an invitation, drawing his gaze, his body hard with her nearness, his emotions tangled with some strange burning beyond the physical. A burn that frustrated him. He didn’t like being controlled, nor did he like being toyed with.

  “I’m only going to ask one more time,” he warned. “Who are you?”

  “Let me go and I might tell you.”

  An odd sense of pleasure rushed over him at her challenge. He enjoyed this matching of wits, and he didn’t know why. Insanity was the only thing he could call it. Maybe magic of some sort.

  “I’ll let you go when you tell me who you are and why you’re here.”

  “You first. And this is your last warning. Start talking or I’ll call for security.” She shook her head. “No. I’ll scream. I’ll scream at the top of my lungs.”

  He narrowed his eyes on her, a flash of memory darting through his mind. Of a day so long ago when he’d snuck into Caron’s family’s stable to ride her father’s prized horse, Diablo. Of her threatening to call for help. Of how he’d responded…just like now.

  “Scream you say?” His eyes narrowing on her, he decided she just might do it. “Then I better give you a good reason,” he said, kissing her as he had his wife to be so many years before, not thinking, letting his emotions and instincts take hold.

  Jag pressed his lips to hers, her body stiff, her protest quickly turning to a sigh of surprise. The kiss was gentle, nothing more than a whispered touch of his mouth to hers. Ah, but he felt it in every inch of his body and soul. Felt it with such intensity he couldn’t pull away. He lingered, lost in the moment, pleased beyond reasons as she seemed to melt, easing against him.

  But any real pleasure quickly ended as someone cleared their throat. “Excuse me, folks.”

  Jag and his seductress pulled away from one another, sharing a look of stunned disbelief at what they’d just shared. As they broke apart, no longer touching, Jag had the distinct yearning to pull her close again. The feeling of loss, he wouldn’t try to understand right now. For that feeling had to be some spell, some form of manipulation by a woman who’d long haunted him. How else could Jag explain any of this? How else did he explain the fact that a security guard stood only a few inches away, too close for Jag to have missed his approach? But he’d been that lost, that out of the present.

  The gray-haired man in uniform smiled. “I know you two are happy to see each other, but we can’t allow too much of that stuff in public.”

  His blond seductress smiled at the man, diverting her gaze from Jag’s, suddenly acting nervous, hands sliding down her clothes as if straightening them. “Sorry about that.” She smiled at the security guard. “Can you show me to a bathroom to freshen up?”

  Jag considered following her but decided against it. At least obviously. He needed time to think and plan. He’d keep his distance for now and figure out how to fight the impact this woman had on him. Why did she have so much power over him?

  Watching her walk away, he inhaled and then let the breath out. Now wasn’t the time or place to finish this. As much as he wanted answers, he knew he had to be patient.

  But not for long.

  They would meet again, and next time, next time would be on his terms.

  Karen rolled her bag toward the rental car van, an emotional roller coaster going on inside. Her sister was going through all kinds of trauma, and Karen had just acted like some sort of airport bimbo. It was bad enough that she’d lost an entire day to travel when she should have be with Eva, but to act as foolishly as she just had really topped it all off. Good gosh, she’d just kissed a stranger in the middle of the airport.

  Clearly no sleep and a whole lot of worry had gotten to her. Clearly she wasn’t thinking straight.

  And he was still here. Oddly enough, she felt him. The realization should scare her, but instead, it thrilled and enticed. His presence even seemed to comfort. Walking away, she’d wanted to turn back. Wanted to extend their time together.

  As crazy as it was, for the first time in her life, a man—a stranger to boot—gave her a silly “knight in shining armor” fantasy. A crazy notion considering she didn’t want such a thing, nor did his behavior merit such a comparison. He’d saved her from a drunk and then accosted her himself.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  A tall, lanky man with glasses appeared in the rental-van doorway. “Can I help you with that?”

  “Please,” Karen said, welcoming the assistance. “Thank you.” The man took her bag and disappeared inside the van to stow it.

  Karen started to follow when a tingling awareness compelled her to turn to her right. And there he was, her stranger, standing beside a pickup truck, staring at her. She studied him, struggling with the familiar feeling he delivered. Trying to place him, frustrated when her dream came to mind again. A dream she couldn’t quite visualize. Besides, dreaming of a stranger was impossible. And what a stranger he was. Tall and broad, his body rippled with muscle, his presence screaming of sex and desire, of a mighty warrior.

  Still, searching his features, the dream continued to cling to her mind. The vision of pure masculinity he portrayed in real life the only thing clear in the array of blurry images of her sleep.

  So damn familiar…his raven-colored straight hair hung past his chin. Untamed. The word came to her from nowhere. Like a whisper in her mind warning her of wildness behind the deep, dark depths of those mysterious eyes staring back at her. A whisper she’d felt in his kiss, even now, in some unattainable memory taunting her.

  “Ready to go?” the attendant a
sked, reappearing in the van door.

  Several seconds passed before Karen could manage to force her gaze from her stranger. Air slid from her lungs, and she realized she’d been holding her breath. The urge to turn, to look for her stranger, begged to be answered, but she refused.

  She nodded. “Ready,” she told the employee, taking the first step into the van, determined to put her silly obsession with the “dream” man to bed. They’d shared a little flirtation, a kiss even.

  So what?

  It was over.

  She had real life to attend to, not some silly fantasy of a dark stranger come to save her from all her troubles. That wasn’t how things happened in her world.

  She did the saving. And right now, she needed to go save her sister from heartbreak and pain.

  Karen had to get to Eva.

  Chapter 3

  Adrian rested against the hood of his black BMW. His car, like everything he surrounded himself with, was a sign of power. He liked power and soon he would have more of it. When he led the Darklands to the destruction of Salvador’s army, Cain would reward him. Cain, the ultimate force in the underworld, could offer him power and wealth beyond that of this existence.

  Everything was going as planned. Jag would soon crumble and Salvador would soon follow. As expected, Karen Gibson had returned home to rescue her sister.

  Soon he would unite the two soul mates. Jag would have his wife back through Karen, in soul if not body. And Jag’s denial of the source of his strength, of his unique abilities, would be his demise. He’d crave his mate both in flesh and blood. Ah, but he would deny the needs, seeing it as evil. Jag would fight his urges until he couldn’t control himself. Until he drained Karen dry, caving to the beast begging for life.

  And if that didn’t work, Eva would be insurance. If Jag claimed his wife, his mate, then he’d surely do anything to save her the pain of losing her sister. Yes. Eva was perfect leverage against Jag.