On the Hunt

  "You mind?" he asked as an obvious afterthought, gesturing with the cigar.

  She shook her head and rose to her feet. "I was just about to go inside anyway."

  As she started to walk past him, Jamie blocked her exit with his left leg, trapping her close against him. "Not so fast, Sunny Renfroe."

  There was danger in his tone, but as she looked down into his light green eyes, there was a heap more flirtation.

  "I have plans for us," he said, and before she could blink, he reached out and ran one hand along her upper thigh. Slowly he stroked her there, his touch so lingering and sensual that her eyes watered. "Yep, you're as good as I thought you'd be," he whispered throatily. "Better."

  She should've shoved him out of the way; she should've hightailed it to the other side of the veranda. Instead, she stood mesmerized, feeling her skin practically burn as he caressed her leg again, a little higher.

  "Why you been avoiding me, huh?" He gazed up at her through slightly lowered lashes. "I'm beginning to think you don't like me very much."

  His fingertips rode up beneath the hem of her short skirt. Her breathing increased and her heart thundered so hard that blood rushed in her ears.

  "But you do like that. I can tell." His beautiful eyes became filled with desire. "So do I."

  When his fingertips snaked their way much higher, nearing the edge of her panties, Sunny came back to her senses. Taking hold of his hand, she forced it from underneath her skirt. "Jamie . . . you need to stop . . . now."

  "Why?"

  For Jamie, it undoubtedly was that simple: If you liked someone or were attracted to them, you hooked up. No attachments, no entanglements, just pure, uncomplicated pleasure.

  Not in her world.

  He continued staring into her eyes, waiting for some kind of answer, and only then did she realize that their fingers had become entwined, neither of them letting go. "Because I don't even know you."

  "But you could. . . ." He gave her a suggestive glance. "In fact, it's downright biblical. To 'know' me. Very Old Testament, since that was the euphemism they chose."

  She flushed. "That's disrespectful."

  "God invented sex," he said matter-of-factly. "I happen to believe in God and in great lovemaking. I don't see a conflict of interest."

  Oh, for me there's one, she thought, trying to still the crazy tempo of her heartbeat and breathing.

  "Well," she said on an unsteady exhale, "I don't believe in having sex with someone I just met."

  He gave her a ravishing smile, his deep dimples popping into view. "Now, that, Sunny Renfroe, is a full-on crying shame."

  He released her hand and turned to light his cigar. Instantly she missed the warmth of his touch, the heat that he'd been stoking inside of her. Stupidly, she had the urge to cry out, Never mind.

  Let's start over! But the moment had been lost.

  Jamie puffed on the cigar, blowing the smoke away from her. It curled into the dim light coming from inside the house. He leaned back in his chair again, and it threw him into the shadows. Sunny hated not being able to see him clearly. He had some of the most beautiful human eyes she'd ever seen, so bright, so vivid, especially the way they contrasted with his naturally golden skin.

  "So how long does it take, then?" he asked casually.

  "For what?"

  "Until we've known each other long enough to have sex. For me to seduce you properly. A few hours? A couple of days? A week? Because I'm a very determined man. You should know that."

  Sunny leaped to her feet. "I've gotta go."

  "Oh, come on, sugar bug. Don't be like that. I'm not trying to scare you off. Sit down and hang out with me for a while. Tell me why it is you've been here most of your life, but I've never met you."

  Sunny stood, frozen, trying to decide whether she dared risk staying, because Jamie did scare her—tremendously so, but not because she thought he'd ever harm her. Not that he could overpower her if he tried, not with her otherworldly abilities. It had all been in that one look he'd given her, the hidden sweetness that all his bravado and flirtation masked. Her heart had flipped over inside her chest, her breathing had grown shallow—and she'd known she could fall in love with him. Quickly, swiftly, tumbling all the way down as she fell.

  And caring for any human in that way was strictly forbidden.

  "Jamie, I really need to go back inside right now," she said, starting toward the porch door.

  "Oh, come on and take a load off." Jamie wrapped one strong arm about her waist and brought her right down onto his lap before she could even react.

  She found herself leaning into a chest that was hard and muscular, her own soft breasts pressing far too close against his strength. His breath was warm on her cheek, and although she expected him to try to kiss her, he did something far more surprising. He reached out and caught one of her curls between his fingers, his breath hitching momentarily.

  "God, you know what's amazing about you?" he murmured. "I love your hair. It's beautiful. Well, I mean . . . if I had to isolate just one thing, it would be your eyes. I could lose myself in your eyes, Sunny. But I do love these curls."

  Very gently, almost tenderly, he began stroking her hair, as if he meant to soothe away her fears of him, her anxiousness about what he was asking for.

  He looked deep into her eyes, and although it was dark, she could see intensity in the depths of his gaze, almost as if he were searching for something. Only then did she realize she'd begun trembling slightly. He frowned. "Hey, now. I won't hurt you, sweetheart. I'm all meow, remember?"

  She splayed an unsteady hand against his chest. "I forgot about the possibility of teeth and claws."

  "Nah, I don't bite and I don't scratch. Well. . ." He laughed low in his throat. "That is, I'll stick to the parts you want nibbled and toyed with."

  Her eyes slid shut. "Jamie, I . . . I'm not used to this."

  "Being held by a man who wants to give you pleasure? A gorgeous thing like you? I find that impossible to believe."

  "Trust me."

  "Now, see, you don't seem to trust me. Am I coming on too strong? Or is it an issue with me in particular? Because from where I'm sitting, you on my lap and my arms around you, I wouldn't be anywhere else right now. And what is that perfume? You have the most unusual scent all over your skin. It makes me want to taste you."

  "Jamie!" She pushed at his chest in frustration. "You are coming on too strong. Way too strong."

  "And yet you're still sitting squarely in my lap. I don't see you rushing to escape." He held his hands up in surrender. "And I'd hate for you to go, but maybe that's best. So long as you promise I can see you again."

  She shook her head, turning away from him, and still didn't move from atop his lap. "I'm not . . . not experienced. Idon't...I can't do this. Okay? Please just let me go."

  He cupped her cheek, slowly urging her to face him. For a long moment, he looked into her eyes. "Sunny, baby, how is that possible?"

  "You're the one who didn't think I was even human," she said, distress mounting. His myriad signals were confusing, the way he vacillated between seduction and teasing and now gentleness.

  She found it harder and harder to sort out his intentions.

  "Well, are you?"

  "You've had your hands all over me. Don't I feel human?"

  He caressed her cheek. "You feel soft and beautiful and warm." He sighed, his eyes drifting shut. "Good Lord, you feell. . . like everything I need." Slowly he encircled her in his arms, holding her close, like a treasure.

  He made her whole body burn with those words and his touch, but he didn't confirm that he'd let go of his suspicions. She had to break contact before he used his famed hunting skills to deduce what she really was.

  "You should let me go," she insisted.

  He took one long puff on his cigar, studying her, but not releasing his hold on her body. "You're sure?"

  "Please."

  Releasing her gently, he helped her back to her feet with polite grace. Strai
ghtening her clothes, she took a step toward the French doors that led to the home's interior. But before she could open them, Jamie was behind her, pressed close to her body.

  His warm breath brushed against the nape of her neck. "I'll give you an hour to reconsider," he whispered seductively. "I'm not in the habit of begging, but I want you something fierce, Sunny Renfroe. I promise I won't hurt you, and I won't dishonor you . . . but I will make you feel things you've never known before. If you're will ing to risk all of that, meet me down by the creek in exactly an hour. Look for the glass gazebo to the right of the dock. I'll be there waiting for you. Don't disappoint me . . . please."

  She turned to look at him, but he was already moving back into the shadows.

  He'd basically begged her to come to him. What was he thinking? It was like he'd temporarily lost his mind around the woman, become enchanted.

  Jamie stared through the glass porch doors and watched Sunny hurry toward the sofa where Shay and Kate sat. She kept neatening her hair, her clothes, and he smiled at how shy she really was. She hadn't been lying about her lack of experience; he was sure of it. But as she sat down stiffly between his sister and Kate, he panicked slightly. Was she going to tell them what he'd just done? If she did, there was no way she'd ever show at the gazebo, and that disappointed him fiercely—and not just because he wanted to ferret out her true identity.

  He hadn't expected her innocence to seduce him. Now he wanted to give her everything he'd just promised . . . and much, much more. If he learned her true nature in the process, that would be an extra bonus, but it was no longer his main desire or concern.

  Shay turned to Sunny, saying something, and he held his breath, wondering if Sunny would confess all. Well, it wasn't like Shay or Kate should be surprised. He was Jamie Angel, after all, and if they expected him to avoid Sunny Renfroe, then his little sis shouldn't have suggested he might find the woman appealing.

  He turned, not wanting to see whether Sunny blabbed about his proposition . . . or his failed seduction attempt. With a heavy groan, he leaned against the side of the porch and closed his eyes. His entire body was on fire, absolutely burning for Sunny. Tonight was supposed to be about subterfuge, about unlocking all her clever mysteries. Instead? He was fully fucking smitten with the female. Not good.

  Beyond that, he was harder than stone inside his jeans, which meant the next hour would be painfully slow—if she even showed at the gazebo. Reaching between his legs, he rubbed scraping denim against his erection, aching for Sunny with downright frenzied intensity. No woman in years had affected him so strongly and instantly.

  Wait! That was it. He opened his eyes with a start, hand still poised against his groin. No other woman had ever brought such heat into his body. Ever. She'd clearly placed some kind of erotic spell over him, proving her supernatural nature; otherwise he wouldn't be wound so tight.

  He would go to the gazebo, wait for her, and seduce her. Then, when he had her beneath him, he would pry the truth out of her.

  Sunny hadn't dared ask Shay or Kate what a glass gazebo was, and sneaking away from the party had taken some clever maneuvering. In the end, she'd said she wanted to walk down to the creek to get away from all the noise, and from the way Shay's eyes had gleamed, her friend had clearly guessed what was really going on.

  Shay had smiled broadly and warned her to be careful, which Sunny took to be more than a passing caution about her brother and his scoundrel's ways.

  Sunny had to be losing her mind to court the kind of danger that Jamie Angel was offering, and yet? She hadn't found the strength inside herself to stay away. Despite the fact that she was violating every rule of her job description, even knowing that she might be seriously reprimanded, or even possibly lose her position, she couldn't stop herself from following the gorgeous, seductive man.

  He wasn't wicked; there was no guile in him. Yet he attracted her with his frighteningly powerful magnetism. All her years and she'd kept herself pure. What would her supervisors say? They answered to God, and none of her kind was supposed to mingle sexually with humans. Ever.

  So here she stood at the end of the dark, tree-lined path, staring at the distant shape of what had to be the glass gazebo. She'd used her own radiance to find the way in the dark, but that wouldn't do now that Jamie might see, so she lifted her cell phone and used it to illuminate her path. The moon was overhead, too, but it was only a sliver, so while it definitely set the atmosphere, it didn't provide much brightness.

  Stepping carefully, she neared the structure; it appeared almost Japanese in design, which seemed at odds with the antebellum style of the home. She'd seen something like it before, but couldn't think where. She was about to search for a door, when Jamie opened one for her, peering out at her. In shadowy relief, he seemed much larger, like a massive, solid sculpture, and she hesitated.

  He answered by seizing hold of her wrist and tugging her inside the gazebo with him, closing the door tight behind them both. They fell against the glass panes, instantly in each other's arms.

  "You came to me," he breathed in the darkness.

  "Well, you asked so nicely." She laughed, and he pulled her much closer. She could hear his heart's fast, aroused tempo beneath her ear.

  "You make me want to be nice."

  "Which is so much better than naughty."

  "Now, that, my darling, depends entirely on what kind of naughty you're talking about." He traced the length of her nose with his fingertip, studying it intently. "Anyone ever tell you that you've got an adorable nose?"

  She burst out laughing. "Okay, I'm thinking you aren't nearly so smooth as you think you are!

  Talking about my nose, Jamie Angel." She giggled some more, especially when he looked genuinely offended for a moment.

  "Cutting down my moves now, are you?"

  "I have a silly nose, so you were really reaching." She'd always thought it turned up just a little bit too much.

  He bent down and very sweetly kissed her there. "It's got an attitude. It says, 'I've got pluck and determination.' "

  "My nose tells you that?"

  "Uh-huh. And it tells me to do this, too." Without asking permission, without a word or a sound beyond a low groan, he covered her mouth with his own. It was an un-apologetic kiss, a commanding one, and he pressed her tighter against his chest.

  Before she could stop herself, before she could consider the potential reprimands—or trouble with heaven itself—she opened her mouth eagerly to him. He slipped his tongue between her lips, creating a circular, slow pressure, until she dared to reciprocate the motion. Something changed right then, a next level of heat and fire passing between their bodies.

  This kiss . . . was more than a kiss—it had to be. It was a kind of claiming, with Jamie moving his hands into her hair, twining his fingers all in it, even as he pressed her up against the glass door. He used his hips to pin her there, and she gasped when she felt his very hard erection push into her belly.

  He broke the kiss, moving his mouth to her neck. "What's wrong?" he murmured, lowering his head until his lips were against her throat. He began suckling and nibbling there, then, with a laugh, released a husky meow.

  She dragged at the air, trying to find her balance. I felt your manhood, and it scared me . . . made me want you even more.

  "I'm afraid," she admitted quietly, aware that she'd begun shaking slightly.

  He kissed the column of her throat, trailing wildfire across her skin. He stilled, his mouth poised against her collarbone. "Won't hurt you," he rumbled. "Trust me."

  "I don't know what to do."

  "Baby. Baby. You are doing everything I want or need," he said, then flicked his tongue against her throat, licking her there.

  With a trembling hand, she reached up and stroked his hair, leaning against the door to steady herself. He moaned slightly at her gentle gesture, nuzzling her, then turned his cheek until it rested in her palm. In that moment she realized he really wasn't a threat, or anywhere near as tough as he wante
d the rest of the world to believe. It was just as she'd sensed on the veranda earlier: He possessed a very tender, gentle streak that he did his best to hide from everyone around him.

  She'd done her research on him before today, and knew that he'd seen the darkest side of the universe as a result of being a hunter. Maybe that had caused him to put those walls up, or maybe he spent allhis bravery in the field, and protected himself in love. That thought filled her chest with painful loneliness, a palpable sadness for the emptiness he lived with. She ran her fingers through his hair even more tenderly, wanting to soothe away all his monsters.

  "You feel so right, Sunny Renfroe," he whispered in reaction. "And nobody ever feels right in my arms."

  She stilled, instinctively knowing that he'd just made a very deep, intimate admission, maybe without even fully realizing it. Her eyes teared up suddenly at the idea that this strapping, gorgeous man—this battler of demons and the forces of darkness—clearly felt alone.

  She caressed his cheek slowly, the heat between them simmering, briefly changing to something far more tender.

  Just as quickly, the moment passed—or he forced it to. He stood upright, bracing both arms about her so that she was framed against the door. With a long, searching gaze into her eyes, he whispered, "I wish you'd become my lover tonight."

  Jamie stretched out on the wicker chaise longue that occupied the center of the glass house. He'd brought the chair out here after his mother's death, when he'd needed a place away from his family, away from the Shades and the Spartans. Somewhere quiet where he could think. It faced the flowing creek and marsh grass, and late in the day he liked to amble out here and drink a glass of wine.

  But he'd never, not once, invited a female to this place of sanctuary. That alone should've tipped him off that Sunny was bounding past any of his own protective wards, yet he kept trying to tell himself that it was all about identifying her supernatural nature. She didn't feel evil and sure as heck didn't taste it. She was the diametric opposite of all the nasty creatures he fought. But after years with the sight, a decade of hunting, he had to know exactly what she was. If she wouldn't admit it, then he'd use his sensual skills to pry the facts out of her.