Mating Fever

by Celeste Anwar

  He sucked in a sharp breath. “You’ll be tha death of me, chere. I don’ know how I could love you so much.”

  “Because I love you,” she whispered, brushing her lips softly against his. “And if you don’t get me to a bed right now, I’ll show you just how much of a devil I can be.”

  His eyes flashed with heat. “I’m not so sure that’s the right incentive to get me ta move the way you want.” He ground his hips against hers with emphasis.

  Jessica bit her lip, stifling a moan. “Oh ... uh ... I think I just changed my mind.”

  The End

  Coming Soon: Project Nemesis 3: Primal Hunger by Celeste Anwar. Read an unedited excerpt below.

  Chapter One

  Surveying the dense jungle below through his night-vision glasses, Zach searched for any sign they might have company.

  His guts told him their mission had been completed too easily, and after years of experience in the field, he’d learned to trust his inner instincts.

  Especially since intel. pointed to a guerilla camp not far from where the drone had gone down.

  The damn thing had to have made a racket when it had plowed through the jungle, but as far as he could see, everything was still in the dark.

  He didn’t trust it.

  Zach signaled the pilot to drop lower for their jump. The quicker they got down there, the quicker they could make it to the coast with the brain of the drone before it could be intercepted and powerful technology compromised.

  It was time.

  The stealth chopper lowered over the canopy. His two best men, Dante Jackson and Lucas Mathews took point and checked their harnesses then bailed from the chopper, repelling to the ground.

  Taking turns as each got halfway down, it didn’t take long for the three men to reach the ground and the helicopter pulled back up into the sky.

  Sergeant Zachary Cooper, Zach to his men, quickly surveyed the perimeter one more time, noting the other chopper had dropped its load on the other side of the clearing and was already flying away as the men fanned out into position and laying out a grid.

  Repelling from the copter, a rush of adrenaline surged through his blood, settling in his stomach as solid turf left beneath his feet and he caught the air. Dropping down the line, he hit the ground and detached, watching as the chopper lifted off and took with them their only quick way out of here.

  They’d meet back at base. If they were successful in their mission.

  Whistling low, he motioned with his hands and his men took positions, raising their guns and keeping an eye down the barrel for attack.

  They began scouring the broken jungle for pieces of the downed drone.

  Most of the aircraft had exploded on impact with the speed it had been traveling. From the looks of things, it looked like it’d been shot out of the sky, but he’d not been privy to that information, and had been assured it had not been seen by the locals. The men began collecting pieces of scrap, looking for the brain and engine.

  Starting on four sides of the grid, marked quickly with string, they worked their way to the center, picking up scrap as they went and stuffing it into their half empty packs.

  Zach swore under his breath when they reached the halfway point. It didn’t look like much of the drone was intact—certainly not enough for an enemy to gain intelligence on. They’d have to have an elaborate technological system hidden out in the jungle to make sense of the tiny pieces that remained if they wanted to reconstruct it. And he didn’t think they had that capability.

  Orders were orders, though.

  Something caught the corner of his eye from the forest. Whipping his head in that direction, Zach snatched the night-vision up and looked.

  A pack of wolves edged the jungle, watching them.

  He hadn’t been aware of wolves in this area. Big cats, yes. Not wolves, but he wasn’t familiar with the flora and fauna to know for certain.

  Still, it struck him as odd that they would be watching them, especially this intently.

  Unease slithered through his veins.

  Zach looked around for more, but there was only the small pack. When he glanced back, the unease returned full force to see they’d disappeared into the jungle as silently as they had appeared.

  Half an hour passed and the men finished moving through the grid. He forgot all about the wolves in that time, and they gathered in a group to show him what they’d procured.

  It looked for all intents and purposes, like scrap metal honed from the garbage.

  Fuck, he fumed.

  “There’s blood on some of these pieces. I cut my fingers getting it up,” Dante said, rubbing his thumb at a wound.

  “Don’t be a baby. I think we all got cut picking it up,” Riker, one of his men, said.

  “Was there any on there when you started?” Zach wondered if the material had been tampered with after all, perhaps by some locals that didn’t know what they were looking at, or roving animals snuffling around for food.

  “Maybe. I thought I saw something, but it’s so fucking dark,” Dante said.

  “It’s weird,” Lucas said, and others agreed. Some of them had nicked their fingers in their haste to gather everything up.

  If the guerillas encamped ten clicks from them weren’t completely oblivious from the goings on in their own jungle, and didn’t have patrols scouring the area—they didn’t have a lot of time left before they were discovered.

  “Put your gloves on. God knows we don’t need open wounds getting infected with a parasite before we can get out of here. Check the area one more time,” he ordered and watched as the men obeyed and fanned across the grid in a straight line, shoulder to shoulder.

  Watching them move, he whistled low again, calling them back.

  The bundles they carried were awkward at best. At worst, lugging the heavy packs around would put them in danger if they went under attack. Especially given the trek they had to complete to get to their heading.

  “Let’s check this out and dump anything that isn’t essential,” Zach said. “Dante, Lucas, you check those. Riker, Williams, and Evans, get moving. We need to make sure all parts of the motor and brain are accounted for. Everything else is secondary. Split the parts so everyone is carrying an equal amount.”

  Dante and Lucas nodded then moved to complete his orders.

  He wasn’t about to risk all their lives for scrap that was worthless. When they stood there, not doing as he ordered, he set his pack down and removed excess supplies, then stuffed engine debris into his pack. Some of the pieces had dried blood on them, looking oddly black in the night. He sliced open his thumbpad sticking it inside his knapsack and swore himself a moron. He’d be lucky to get out of this without picking up an incurable disease.

  “Fuck,” he cursed, and wrapped a bandage around the wound then shoving his hands in gloves to keep the wound protected. He was as bad as a damn private, not thinking for himself. He reckoned all of them were sliced up from handling the razor sharp metal.

  Getting it packed, he hefted it. The damn thing was heavy as hell when he got done with it, but he felt his men would be safer having divided the load amongst them all.

  Giving the signal to move out, they proceeded into the jungle.

  “Ripley, you Sully, and Ames take point. The rest of us will pull up the rear,” Zach said, falling back to watch their backs.

  Lucas and Dante nodded, remaining wary as they moved in. If they thought the clearing had been dark, the jungle was worse. He could barely see his hand in front of his face even with the night-vision turned on.

  They hadn’t made much headway through the dense jungle when Zach got some disturbing news from Dante.

  “Something’s moving in on us, Sarge,” Dante said, hooking a thumb behind him.

  “Fucking guerillas. They must’ve found our trail or the wreckage site,” Zach muttered, scrubbing a hand over his jaw.

  “You want me to get a head count?” Lucas asked.

  “No. We need to hoof it to ou
r heading and get back to base camp. We can’t afford to lose any of the drone to enemies. We stick together, move fast, and don’t shoot unless they’re on our asses.”

  Forming a line, they moved through the jungle, brushing past thick vines and bushes, over fallen logs and other tough terrain. It seemed hours passed as they carried their heavy packs. Even with the dark, the humidity was a killer. Sweat trickled over his brow and down his chest and groin, making his balls itch and his camo. pants rub his crotch painfully.

  The cut in his hand burned like fire, making his entire palm ache and his wrist click like he’d suddenly caught carpal tunnel. He flexed his fingers.

  “Fucking humidity,” he grumbled, swiping his brow and adjusting his groin to alleviate the irritation.

  Mosquitoes nagged their exposed flesh, adding to the misery of the jungle. Something bit his arm, or at least, he thought something had. A sudden nagging sting shot fire into his bicep and shoulder. Fucking mosquitoes were big enough here to suck through their clothing.

  “Mosquitoes are monsters out here,” he grumbled.

  Dante grinned in the dark, flashing his teeth. “Reminds me of the swamp back home.”

  “Doesn’t feel like we’re that far off it. I don’t know how you stand living there,” Lucas said, punching him in the shoulder.

  “Home’s home,” Dante said and shrugged, heading further into the jungle.

  With all the discomfort, nothing compared to the tension of expecting an attack from behind, of getting shot in the back when they least expected it. His nerves felt as tight as a guide wire.

  If he’d been uneasy before, he was downright nervous as hell now. He didn’t quite feel like himself, but chalked it up to the strangeness of the situation. It didn’t sit well that no one noticed a drone crashing into the jungle or choppers coming to pick it back up.

  He held up a fist and called for a halt. Pulling out the map and checking the compass, they were only halfway to the pickup point.

  “Another five clicks,” he said to the group.

  As he slid the map back in his vest pocket, a sharp crack erupted through the jungle.

  They all hit the dirt, scrambling through the underbrush and taking cover behind a giant, fallen tree covered with moss.

  His men followed, searching the jungle.

  “Where the fuck did that come from?” Zach said, hefting his gun and peering over the log.

  “I saw a flash just over there,” Lucas said, pointing.

  Something flashed and a bullet exploded from the trunk of a tree nearby. The group fired on the site, eliciting a cry as they hit their target and enemy returned fire.

  “Head out and rotate. You three keep the rear and when we get into position, we’ll cover you,” Zach said, motioning to them.

  Slowly, they began their retreat. He couldn’t keep track of how much time had passed or if they were making any headway with the guerrillas dogging them. He couldn’t afford not to reach their destination on time. There was only so much allowance for them to get to the pickup. If they arrived too late, they might not get home at all.

  And that was something he wasn’t going to risk.

  “Pick up the pace,” he ground out, when he thought they were close enough to their heading to make it there without being slaughtered.

  Distantly, he thought he heard water crashing on the beach.

  “Run for the beach! It’s just ahead!” Zach yelled, motioning his men forward for all out retreat.

  They half crouched, ducking and running through the jungle before they could be hit with return fire. Bursting through the overgrowth, they landed on the beach, moonlight streaming down like a spotlight on them.

  The ripped off their night-vision, scouring the beach until they spotted the boat and ran for it.

  Sand split into the air from whizzing bullets. Dante and Lucas landed in the dirt, laying cover fire while the others ran for the boat, holding the guerillas back.

  Something crawled all over Zach’s skin, burning him alive. He felt like a flesh-eating virus was devouring him from the outside in, and wondered if he’d gone through a bed of fire ants or managed to get bit by some jungle creature he hadn’t noticed. Heat made his head swim.

  He fought the feeling off, shaking his head.

  Friendly fire erupted from the boat, giving them cover.

  They crawled frantically, watching as it shoved off into the water.

  The peel of gunfire was deafening, sounding like fireworks going off around them. Acrid smoke filled the air, clouding their view and choking the breath from their lungs. Zach, Dante, and Lucas moved into the water to swim for the retreating boat.

  Hampered by their heavy packs, it took every ounce of energy and strength to cut through the water. Weariness settled into Zach, dragging him down.

  All around, screams of terror and pain ripped from men’s throats.

  The salt water made the burning of his skin intensify. He felt his gloves soak, felt the cuts on his hand seem to catch on fire.

  A surge of energy pushed him on, and he caught the edge of the boat. Someone grabbed his arm, yanking him inside and nearly wrenching his arm out of socket.

  His lungs collapsed, breathless as he hit the metal bottom and someone slammed into his body.

  Anger and rage exploded from him like a living thing. He screamed and fought the man off him, ripping through flesh with teeth and nails, feeling something inhuman take control of his mind, leaving only base animal behind.

  A bullet caught him in the back, slamming him down again, enraging him further as Dante and Lucas joined the fray.

  Dimly, above the blood roaring in his ears, he could hear someone calling into their radio for backup. “Something’s wrong with the men! Mayday! Under attack from the beach--”

  The panicked voice was suddenly cut off.

  The coppery scent of blood filled Zach’s nostrils. Sucking in a deep breath, Zach fought off his attacker and looked frantically for another. The boat writhed with men and bodies, blood and death.

  Dante was at his side, fighting another man off, looking wild and not himself. Lucas growled like an animal, ripping off his pack as bullets slammed into his shoulder from above.

  The sound of a helicopter flooded through the melee. Zach looked up at the descending chopper, the rope ladder hanging down. He launched himself at it, scrambling up the rope with inhuman speed.

  Dimly, he recognized that something was wrong with him, something he couldn’t explain. Rage had taken a hold of his mind, crowding out rational thought, leaving sanity behind in favor of death and destruction. He was incapable of controlling himself—could only continue on, fighting, looking for flesh to rip apart.

  He heaved himself into the body of the chopper. The pale face of a man came into view, distorted by terror. Fear, thick and cloying enveloped the space. He stared down the man, bowing up and then roared when bullets slammed into his body, knocking him out of the bay and into the air.

  Wind rushed by him as he fell, and when he hit the water, blackness swallowed him whole.

  ***

  She’d come to Cuba to procure cancer treatment medicine that the organization her friends worked for could no longer afford to provide for free to patients that needed it. As much as Jasmine distrusted foreign countries and their medical practices, it was hard to turn someone down who was dying and couldn’t afford the medicine to keep themselves or their children alive.