His Darkest Embrace Read online

  Jagger moved into her line of vision. Skye held her ground and even though no outward sign betrayed her innermost feelings, she gulped back the fear that began to spread quickly.

  Jagger’s face held no emotion whatsoever, his features as cold as a slab of granite. Unflinching. Unyielding. It was amazing, really, that a face so incredibly arresting could look so aloof and bitter.

  She swallowed thickly. It was obvious he’d made up his mind. She was now his enemy.

  He’d donned a pair of pants and suddenly she felt exposed, vulnerable, as she stood there, her nakedness barely covered. Quickly her gaze passed over the other three men, but they all stared her down as if she had no right to be breathing the same air as they did. The older one, Cracker, spit into the ground and turned away. The other two followed, until they disappeared into the darkness, swallowed whole by the thick vines.

  She was alone. With a jaguar warrior who not long ago would have thrown her to the ground and made love to her if she’d let him.

  Yet now looked at her with no emotion at all.

  Skye took a second to push back her fear, held her head high, and slowly moved toward him. There was no use trying to escape. She needed to be smart about this. It was the only way.

  “This way,” he said flatly.

  They trudged through the jungle, swinging by the small pond of water where they’d been together less than an hour earlier. Jagger retrieved his clothes and pointed her in the direction he wanted her to take.

  She didn’t rate so much as a word, just the odd grunt and gesture.

  The silence was almost unbearable. Truthfully, she’d rather he yell at her, pick a fight or something. Anything was better than the morose quiet that followed as she carefully trekked across the jungle floor, picking a careful path.

  Several times the soles of her feet landed on sharp roots and she bit her tongue at the pain. Bitterly, she cursed in silence, thinking it was easy for the warrior since his feet were encased in heavy-duty boots.

  Her brother’s boots.

  Skye’s body began to drag, she could feel her energy depleting rapidly. When Jagger stopped suddenly, indicating that she do the same, relief washed over her.

  She wiped the sweat from her brow, lifting the heavy waves of hair that were stuck to her neck and shoulders. Her chest was heaving and she ran her tongue over parched lips as her gaze wandered the immediate area.

  She wasn’t sure why they stopped. As far as she could see, there was nothing here. Anxiously she looked at Jagger, wondering, not for the first time, where the hell her satchel was.

  His hooded eyes were looking straight at her and her breath caught in the back of her throat. The man stood like a stone god, all hard angles and sculpted features. The animosity that he felt was so thick she could taste it and she swallowed painfully, her dry throat protesting.

  Her gaze fell to the jungle floor. Darkness had fallen several hours earlier, but her eyes had adjusted and she could see quite clearly through the thick gloom. The foliage was knee high and there wasn’t much room to maneuver, no path that was evident.

  Jagger nodded toward a thick stand of trees, a grouping that was made of several trunks that had twisted and melded together to form one solid form.

  “Up,” was the only word that fell from his lips, but either her mind was too tired to understand or he wasn’t making any sense. Skye remained where she was, tottering on the brink of exhaustion, her limbs trembling.

  Jagger cursed, his voice low, almost guttural. He crossed over to her in two long strides until he was so close she could see the pulse that pinched at his temple. She could feel the heat from his body slowly evaporating into the air and she welcomed it as it washed over her suddenly cold, numb limbs.

  “The only safe place in this jungle tonight is up there.” Her eyes followed to where his finger pointed, “In the canopy.”

  Dully she looked at the tree trunk and with great effort forced one foot in front of the other until she stood at the base.

  “We don’t have all night. In fact I’m pretty sure we only have a few hours of rest until the DaCostas start knocking at our door, so I suggest you get your ass in gear and climb the damn tree.”

  A small, smoldering flame of defiance sprung quickly to life and Skye fought the urge to turn around and tell Jagger to go fuck himself. She kept her mouth shut. It was time to pick her battles and she wasn’t going to get in a pissing contest over where they should bed down.

  Besides, she supposed he was right. There was no cave close by for shelter and while the jungle floor held many dangers during daylight, they tripled once darkness fell.

  Her hands reached out, grasping the tree as hard as she could until her fingers found crevices with which she could leverage her weight. Skye began to climb, hoping like hell she’d be able to hang on and make it all the way without tumbling back to the jungle floor.

  She almost giggled at the thought, feeling the hysterics riding so close to the surface. That would certainly be the icing on what had undoubtedly been one of the most trying days in her life.

  She concentrated and hauled herself up using what last bit of strength she possessed, and tried to ignore the hot flush that spread across her face as she inched toward the canopy overhead.

  Jagger was just below, and if he looked up, which she was sure he was doing at this very moment, he would have an unfettered view of not only her ass cheeks, but everything else in between.

  She gritted her teeth, trying to keep her legs held tight together, which, while climbing, was really hard to do. After what seemed like forever she managed to pull herself up onto a natural platform, one that had been formed when the trees had come together and become one. It allowed about three feet either way of standing room, with natural barriers creating an almost cocoonlike room.

  She could see their supply bags, including her precious satchel, hanging from a large branch. He must have scouted the location earlier in the day.

  Skye turned to look down and froze at the look that hung on Jagger’s face. His eyes glowed with sparks that lit them from behind and his lips were drawn back into a grimace that should have marred the handsome face, but didn’t. As he jumped over the edge to land in a crouch, mere inches from her, the air shimmered and everything felt heavy, out of sorts.

  Skye stumbled and took a step back, yelping in pain as her tortured, tired feet hit a sharp snag.

  Jagger rose slowly, his large frame moving with the grace and fluidity of someone half his size. The man screamed otherworld and Skye froze at the intensity behind his eyes.

  The man looked dangerous. The man looked hungry. And pissed off.

  With her.

  She continued to back up, casually taking in the immediate area around her, but it was no use. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.

  Not that she had the energy, anyway.

  He took one step toward her and she flinched. Skye couldn’t help it. As much as she didn’t want to show an ounce of weakness, there was no denying the potent strength and underlying anger that fed the jaguar. His eyes swept over her, piercing, full of contempt and loathing.

  Skye felt her heart jerk, chest tighten, and she swallowed painfully.

  She couldn’t help but feel hurt.

  He reached for her and she held her breath, closing her eyes, expecting some sort of physical violence, but instead was pulled roughly into his arms.

  The touch of his flesh was welcomed with reluctance. It heated her cold skin.

  Skye stared up at him, confused. He pushed her back slowly, until her body was cushioned between the natural wall that the trees had formed and the hard body in front of her. She felt off balance, her torn and sore feet trying to gain leverage on the rough bottom.

  Instinctually her hands braced themselves against Jagger’s hard chest and she winced at the cruel laugh that fell from his lips.

  Skye closed her eyes, wanting to banish the image of the disgusted look that graced his handsome features.

&nb
sp; “Ever the little whore.” Jagger’s breath was hot against her cheek and she shivered as cold washed through her body. Words couldn’t be hidden behind closed eyes and the despair that she felt inside was painful.

  Why should she give a shit what he thought?

  His hands gripped her cheeks, the fingers digging in until the whimper that was torn from her throat hung in the air between them. Skye could feel the tears behind her eyes, but she held on. There was no way in hell that she would cry in front of him.

  “Just do it and get it over with,” she spat out, her eyes opening wide as a spark of anger bit at her.

  Jagger seemed surprised at her words, but only for a moment. Then understanding dawned and he smiled once more, the white of his teeth a soft glow amongst the dim gloom of night.

  His eyes made a show of trailing a path down her body, but the curl to his lip left no doubt as to what he was feeling.

  And it was anything but lust.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Skye. If I wanted to fuck, I’d have you begging for it before your back even hit the floor.” He laughed softly then, a sinister sound that grated on her last working nerve. “Don’t get all excited. I’m not particularly fond of screwing the enemy’s leftovers.”

  He turned her around before she had a chance to react, her mind stinging from the nastiness of his words.

  “We need to sleep. I’m damn near dead on my feet, no thanks to you, and I’ve got a lot of shit to deal with tomorrow.”

  “What are you …” Skye’s voice trailed off weakly. She felt like a rag doll that had been beaten down, trashed, and kicked to the curb. She just had nothing left.

  Jagger pulled her down with him, keeping her back nestled against his chest. It wasn’t for comfort, either. His arms were like hard steel bands that wrapped around the front, just under her breasts, holding her there firmly. Skye wasn’t going anywhere.

  Her tongue felt thick and her head was swimming from lack of food and water. Slowly her gaze wandered up to the satchel that hung just out of reach.

  The weight of her mission and everything that had transpired over the last six months was incredible. Would she have the strength to carry it through?

  “Lots to deal with,” he whispered ominously against her ear. Skye couldn’t hide the shudder that wracked her frame.

  “And you’re first up on the agenda.”

  Chapter 9

  Skye wasn’t sure how long she lay there, her body rigid against the warmth of Jagger’s chest. She tried to ignore the feel of him, his muscles, the hard planes of his torso, the way his body rose and fell as he inhaled air deep into his lungs.

  She was so tense it honestly felt like her body was going to snap in two. Her shoulders were sore, her neck in knots and her fists were balled together so tightly she could feel the wetness from the blood her nails had drawn.

  The dizziness that had washed over her earlier was still circling inside her skull, making her feel weak, and to top it off her head was pounding so hard it felt like a truckload of jackhammers was having a freaking party.

  She’d give anything for a couple shots of tequila. Or better yet an entire bottle dumped down her throat. She just wanted everything to go away.

  What she wouldn’t give to fall asleep and wake up in another life. In another world entirely. One that didn’t include shifters, magicks, and demons.

  The dead lump in her gut told her that fantasy was never gonna happen.

  For the first time Skye was not only scared, she was beginning to lose hope. Even the months she’d spent in captivity being held by the DaCostas—even then—she’d never given up hope that the eagles would win.

  That the portal would be recovered and sealed.

  That humanity would be saved from the brink of a demon war.

  But now?

  Skye was just so tired and burnt out she didn’t know what to think anymore. Was it even possible to win the war? It all seemed so incredibly hopeless.

  She closed her eyes and fought the ache that had attached itself to her soul. It pulled at her, dragging her down. She hurt. Everywhere.

  She needed to sleep, but was hesitant to fall under. She was scared.

  Not of the jaguar that held her—although Skye was pretty sure she’d be changing her tune in the morning—no, it was the promise of something much more insidious.

  Her nightmare from the evening before still hovered around the edges of her consciousness, the leftover images and feelings lingering, taunting.

  Was Azaiel real? Were the nightmares more than what they appeared to be? She exhaled softly, trying not to move. Maybe she really was losing her mind.

  Skye held on and did her best to keep her senses alive, her mind working even as she longed to close her eyes and rest. But as the minutes dragged by she could feel herself losing the battle. Jagger’s heart beat a steady, hypnotic rhythm beneath her and the warmth from his flesh crept into the coldness of her own.

  Eventually her mind began to wander and as she succumbed to the kiss of the sandman, a soft sigh of regret slipped from her mouth.

  Jagger wasn’t sure how much time passed, but eventually Skye grew limp as the weight of her body fell into the crook of his arms. Her head rested against his chest, but even in sleep, she held herself rigid. Her shoulders were hunched, her body held at an unnatural angle in an effort to avoid his touch.

  She felt cold but he had no inclination to offer anything other than the prison of his embrace. He didn’t trust her in the least.

  He tried to ignore the scent that clung to her skin. He knew it was potent. Christ, it felt like she was drowning in come fuck me musk. He was angered by the response his body took.

  He wanted her. Plain and simple.

  Oh, he’d proclaimed his aversion to her charms, how could he not? She was obviously in collusion with the enemy. But the aching throb that lay heavy against his groin told another story.

  Jagger felt another wave of loathing wash over him and this time it had nothing to do with Skye. It was toward himself and the weak betrayal of his body. He clenched his teeth together viciously and vowed that as soon as they got back to some sort of civilization, he’d find the first willing female that he could and screw her until his balls turned blue.

  Tiredly his mind turned in circles. There was so much he didn’t know and for the first time he felt a sliver of regret. He’d been selfish to disappear, to leave his family fighting a war without him.

  He was the soldier, for Christ sakes, not Julian.

  He closed his eyes and laid his head against the rough bark of the tree at his back, forcing his body to relax. The nocturnal sounds of the jungle soothed his soul, the clicks, hoots, hisses, and even the shrill call of the occasional howler monkey. They all melted together into a comforting lullaby, and eventually Jagger fell asleep.

  At first he wasn’t sure what had woken him. A feeling of unease. A blackness that slid over his skin. It awakened the animal deep inside and Jagger was instantly on guard.

  His eyes flew open and his nostrils quivered.

  The jungle was now silent, eerily so.

  The black of night had given way to the hazy gray of early morning. Shadows shifted in the breeze that blew around him, looking sinister.

  He felt his stomach muscles clench. The quiet ate at him. It wasn’t normal.

  He was instantly alert, and he pulled in the woman that he held with his arms until she was tight against his chest. There was something in the air but it was unlike anything he’d encountered before. The scent was subtle.

  Skye moaned softly and her body began to shake in quick, jerky movements. Her head lolled to the side as her body continued to quiver and it took great effort for Jagger to hold her still.

  Her eyes flew open, the blue roundness wide yet unseeing. He watched as her lips began to tremble, soft moans escaping.

  His arms held her tighter but that just seemed to aggravate her even more, and her skull connected solidly with his chin as she continued to thrash a
bout.

  Son of a bitch!

  Her fingers unfurled and the claws that ripped into his upper arms were sharp, deadly weapons. He looked down, not surprised to see long talons taking the place of her fingers.

  Every hair on his body was electrified and his instinct to defend and destroy kicked in big-time. He began to pant and his body broke out in a thin sheen of sweat.

  Skye’s nails drew blood and he cursed under his breath. Fuck! He had no time for this shit. Jagger twisted his hips and pushed, effectively flipping Skye over so that she was now trapped beneath him.

  She began to buck wildly, her strength surprising him. A chill slithered up his body and Jagger stilled, his head whipping around as the jaguar inside hissed in anger.

  The space was empty. But he knew better. There was something there. It wasn’t human or animal. Whatever the hell it was, it was definitely otherworld.

  His eyes scanned the entire length of the canopy and his ears listened closely as he struggled to calm the woman beneath him.

  The air seemed to dissipate, as if some force was sucking it out into a black hole. Frustration gnawed at him but Jagger kept still. He’d seen and dealt with many things in his life and knew the only way to defeat an unseen enemy was to keep a cool head and look for the perfect opportunity to attack.

  Timing was everything.

  Skye suddenly stopped moving and his gaze quickly returned to her. Inside, the animal railed against him, wanting out, feeling panicky, as if under attack.

  Her eyes widened in fear. Her lips began to move, whispered words falling from between dry lips, and he bent down closer in an effort to hear her.

  She spoke in a language he’d never heard before, an ancient tongue. The rhythm was awkward, the sounds guttural and sharp. Her voice was rough, unlike the melodic timbre he’d grown accustomed to.

  Her eyes were trained on a point behind him but they remained unfocused. As her voice rose the vivid blue receded, the color invaded by an insidious black that seeped into the orbs, leaving them dull, opaque.

  She began to shake violently, her head thrashing from side to side, and Jagger began to fear for the woman beneath him.