Rapture Untamed (Feral Warriors #4)(10)

His line of sight shifted, his senses exploding with his cat's. Without a moment's hesitation, he took off through the woods at a full-out run, desperate to douse the fire that burned inside him. Though the shift into his animal form cooled the raging passion that had claimed his man's body, the fire continued to burn inside, deep in the recesses of his mind. Desire for something he couldn't even name. Obsession with a woman he didn't even want, except in the most carnal sense. A fire that licked at his innermost self with a pain he'd long ago learned to live with, though he found it impossible to ignore.

He ran, uncertain of his destination and not caring, as the damp morning breeze blew through his whiskers. But when he found himself high above the rocky cliffs overlooking the Potomac River, he climbed onto the rocks and stood, his cat's body breathing quickly from the run, his jaguar's face lifted to the wind.

What if he kept running? What if he never looked back? Nevercame back? The thought had entered his mind too many times to count. And he might have done it. A thousand times, he might have run, never to return. Except for two things - being a Feral Warrior was the one thing that made his life worthwhile, and the certainty that running would accomplish nothing. Because the thing he most wanted to be free of, he couldn't outrun.

Himself.

Finally, he turned back for Feral House, his thoughts on the woman who wouldn't leave his mind. Olivia. Dammit, but she intrigued him. He'd never seen her out of her pantsuits until tonight. He'd thought her hot in her trim business persona, but dressed for action, she'd set his blood on fire. He could still see her as she'd stood in the media-room doorway, her thick red hair deliciously sleep-tousled, her feet bare, the pants clinging to her narrow hips, the tank top molding every sweet dip and swell of her br**sts.

She put on that ice-princess act, but she was as hot for him as he was for her. And when he'd touched her with his palms, pressing the pleasure into her, he'd nearly melted from the heat that had roared off her.

The odd ability to heat or cool with his hands had seemed useless until he'd long ago learned to use it to excite and pleasure his lovers; but never had a woman risen so fast, so violently, when all he'd done was touch her waist. What would happen if he slid his hand between her legs and palmed her?

The thought of it, of the scream of release that would almost certainly follow, excited the hell out of him.

This thing wasn't over between them, not by a long shot. Somehow he had to make certain she decided to partner him herself. And he knew just how to do it. He had her number. He knew pride when he saw it, and Olivia was made of the stuff.

Yeah, she was going to be his partner. And before this mission ended, that neat little package of a female body would be his.

Chapter Four

Olivia sat alone at the huge table in the Feral's dining room, devouring the piles of food on her plate. It was nearly noon, the time they'd agreed to meet to grab lunch and leave for their respective Daemon-tracking assignments. With no true understanding of the wraith Daemons, they weren't certain if they were nocturnal like their draden hosts, or could move freely during the day. Nor had they any idea where they'd hole up during daylight if theywere nocturnal.

So the teams would head out in broad daylight to begin a hunt that could take days.

She cut another thick bite of ham and shoved it into her mouth, amazed her stomach could hold so much. After her frustrating encounter with Jag just before dawn, she'd devoured a plateful of food out of a refrigerator mostly stocked with meat, then returned to her room, where she'd given in to the need to relieve the awful sexual tension Jag had left her with. As she'd guessed, only a few quick strokes of her finger had brought on a cataclysmic release.

She'd fallen asleep almost immediately after, sleeping a solid six hours. And woken starved again. Her body was burning through the food at an alarming rate.

Pink set a platter of thick-sliced toast on the table, preparing for the rest of the household, who should be arriving any minute. With a smile at the pink-feathered bird-woman, Olivia grabbed a couple slices, eating them quickly. The others better get down soon, or there wasn't going to be anything left.

What she craved and needed was life energy. She couldn't get away from Jag soon enough.

She'd decided Niall would be the one to partner him. Niall was by far the more even-tempered of her two men and far less likely to let Jag's antagonistic remarks draw him into a fight. And while her instincts told her Jag would never intentionally kill one of their own, a Feral with his claws and fangs drawn could be deadly to mortals and immortals alike. No Therian would ever win against a Feral. Not unless the Feral let him.

Or, in her case, unless she had an unfair advantage.

She had confidence that Niall would be able to handle Jag for a few days, and that should be all they needed to find and kill the Daemons.

The sound of male footsteps and the low sound of voices beyond the dining-room door warned her she was about to get company. A moment later, Ewan and Niall walked into the room in uniform, dressed in black pants and boots much like hers, and dark red T-shirts.

A bear of a man, Ewan possessed fair coloring and a neck as thick as her upper thigh.

Niall, on the other hand, stood lean and wiry, as dark as Ewan was fair. Of the two, Niall's eyes were by far the softer. At least when they looked at her.

Both men followed her without question, or they wouldn't be under her command.