Rapture Untamed (Feral Warriors #4)(3)

Not until he got her into bed and slaked this obsession. Which, considering the way he'd first approached her, was going to be a challenge.

Usually, he didn't much care how women took his peculiar brand of charm. Being a Feral Warrior was enough to get him into plenty of beds despite his piss-poor attitude.

Once there, he knew what to do to make certain he got invited back...if he didn't piss them off too much later. Which happened sometimes. His charm was an underappreciated thing.

The thought made him smile, a small biting twist of his lips.

Olivia had definitely underappreciated the way he'd greeted her last week. Even for him, walking up to a strange woman and squeezing her breast had been going a bit far.

But he'd been out of his mind from the magic crawling on him at the time, and there'd been something about her that had pulled him like a magnet. Maybe that hair of hers was the problem, that glorious red beacon and the way it caught the light. Or the hint of a Scottish brogue he sometimes heard in her words.

Maybe it was way she barely reached his shoulder yet filled the room with her presence until he could think of nothing else.See nothing else. Or maybe it was the heat in her eyes that had snared him, the temper she kept carefully banked and masked beneath a layer of chilly frost.

He honestly didn't know, but whatever the hell had drawn him to her showed no signs of letting go.

The woman intrigued him, all right. Sooner or later, he'd have her moaning his name, begging him to take her to bed. She wouldn't want to. He had no illusions about that.

Pride was written all over her face and woven into every line of her sweet little body.

No, she'd see wanting him as a weakness, begging him to fill her as a self-betrayal. But she'd beg him all the same because few women could resist him once he set his mind to seduction.

Jag smiled. Not even Olivia. Hard as she tried, the cool, sexy little redhead couldn't ignore him. He'd gotten under her skin. Just as she'd gotten under his.

Beside him, Wulfe cracked his knuckles. "Have we learned any more about these Daemons?"

Lyon's mouth tightened. "No. They appear to be little more than soulless feeding machines, but that doesn't mean they're not dangerous. Hawke and Kougar have been trying to re-create one of the ancient Daemon traps, but so far without success. After five millennia, too much of our understanding of the creatures has been lost. Kougar hasn't given up on the traps, but we can't count on them working. We're going to have to hunt down those bastards the old-fashioned way."

Jag knew what was coming next. It hardly took a brain surgeon to understand why the Therian Guard had been invited to this party. Chiefy wanted them to use the buddy system. Wasn't that cute?

His gaze slid to Olivia, daring her to turn her head, but she studiously ignored him.

Beneath that trim jacket of hers he could make out the swell of a well-curved breast.

His body tightened at the remembered feel of that softness beneath his hand. A softness he longed to feel again.

He wasn't kidding about being obsessed. He could think of little but getting near her again. Waking or sleeping, she filled his thoughts, his mind, as he imagined her naked and writhing, legs parted as she begged him to fill her.

Gray eyes cut to him, narrowing as if she'd heard his thoughts.No way in hell sang in the air between them.

He smiled. They'd just have to see about that, wouldn't they?

Lyon's voice pulled his attention back to the meeting. "There's been a rash of human disappearances up near Harpers Ferry. No bodies, but that doesn't mean the third Daemon isn't behind the carnage." Lyon's gaze swung between Jag and Paenther. "The two of you were in that cavern. Can either of you pick up Daemon scent?"

Jag nodded. "Hell, yes. I'm not sure my nose will ever be the same."

Paenther shook his head. "I'm not sure I can, Roar. With my link to my animal breaking down at the time, my senses were shot."

"Jag, you're on it, then. I want to know if we've got Daemon or Mage involvement in those disappearances. And if it's Daemon, I want it dead."

"Aye, aye, Captain. Do I get to take me a buddy?"

Lyon glanced at him, a wary sharpness in his eyes. As if he didn't quite trust what his jaguar shifter might do or say. Imagine that.

Pamela Palmer Rapture Untamed

"One of the Guard will accompany you, yes. Which one is up to Olivia." Lyon turned to Tighe. "You'll take the other two members of the Guard and join Kougar and Hawke.

You'll be in charge out there. Paenther, I'm sending you in a different direction. The Shaman and Ezekial are putting together a small team of Mage and Therians to hunt the Daemon blade and get a lock on Inir. You're in charge of it."

Jag leaned forward, willing Olivia to meet his gaze. "Whatcha say, Red? Be my buddy?

We'll have oh so much fun, Sugar. I'll f**k your brains out when we're not hunting Daemons."

Olivia's eyes flared with shock, and something more, something dark and hot.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her two men go tense as iron rods against the back wall, as if ready to leap to her defense. Against a Feral. Idiots.

Olivia's hand shot toward the pair like a traffic cop's, though her gaze held Jag's.

"Jag!" Lyon snapped. "You will show some respect."

Jag leaned back in his chair, his mouth pulling up in a small, satisfied smile. Ah, yes. He did so love to spread good cheer.