Rapture Untamed (Feral Warriors #4)(5)

Or was he just a sociopathic jerk?

Lyon allowed the fight to continue for nearly three minutes before finally calling a stop to it.

"Enough!" Lyon roared, his voice thundering off the walls.

Instantly, Tighe shoved himself off Jag, his fangs and claws retracting. Blood splatters patterned his ripped clothes.

Jag stumbled back, the blood running freely down his face and neck. His cheek had been ripped open, but his eyes were alight with an unholy fire and keen satisfaction.

He'd taken the worst of it by far, even though the two Ferals were, to all appearances, evenly matched. Instinct told her Jag wasn't any less of a fighter. No, he'd intentionally drawn Tighe's fury, then done little more than defend himself against any real damage.

Which just supported her theory that he'd invited the attack. He'd wanted the beating.

Lyon stepped between the two combatants, his own claws unsheathing as he shoved Jag back against the wall and dug his claws into the shifter's bleeding neck.

A deep growl rumbled from Lyon's throat. "For two and a half centuries, I've put up with your surly attitude because nothing I do makes a difference. Rile the other Ferals and me all you want, but you willnot disrespect the women in this house. Do you understand?"

Jag just grinned. "Riling away."

And he had, hadn't he? Tighe was furious with him, as was Lyon.

Another deep lion growl rolled through the room. "Back off, Jag, or the instant those Daemons are dust, I'm going to throw you in the prison and leave you there to rot. I need ateam , dammit. A team I can count on to work together to contain this threat.

And I need you on it."

Jag just smiled that small, nasty smile. "You're looking a little tense there, Chief. That little mate of yours finally figure out she's too good for you?"

Lyon yanked his claws from Jag's throat and shoved him away. "Shut up, Jag."

Olivia watched the confrontation with interest. She'd have been lying if she had said she didn't enjoy watching Jag get his butt kicked. Except for that stab of unwanted empathy caused by the niggling feeling that she understood what drove him and the suspicion that deep inside he was hurting as badly as she once had. And she wouldn't wish that on anyone.

She resumed her seat, crossing her legs. Regardless of what drove him, he was one messed-up male. She'd be out of her mind to agree to partner him. Yet could she really, in good conscience, make one of her own men go with him?

Jag straightened, his T-shirt hanging in shreds on his well-muscled torso, his camouflage pants stained with blood. As he reached for his chair, a flash of pink caught Olivia's eye, and she turned to see the Ferals' housekeeper, a striking, pink-feathered bird-woman, slowly amble into the room with a tray of steaming mugs, her flamingo legs taking long, awkward steps.

Olivia had met Pink briefly on her first visit and found the woman to be retiring in nature, uncomfortable with her odd appearance in the company of strangers.

"What the hell?"Niall muttered against the back wall, loud enough, unfortunately, for all to hear. He hadn't been with her when she'd met Pink.

Olivia cringed.

Jag froze, going feral once more as he leaped at the unsuspecting man, pinning Niall against the wall with one clawed hand.

"Don't disrespect the bird,"the Feral growled through wicked fangs.

Niall turned pale, the blood running into his shirt as he stared up at the furious shifter.

"I..." Niall's gaze shot past Jag to Pink. "I apologize. I meant no offense."

"Jag," Pink said softly.

Amazingly, the shifter responded to her as he'd responded to no one else, releasing Niall and whirling away with a low growl.

As Jag took his seat, retracting fangs and claws as he swiped away the blood from his already-healing face, his hard gaze slid over Olivia. In his eyes she saw real anger and a flash of true protectiveness.

Interesting. Apparently there were those he wouldn't torment.

Pink moved away, offering mugs around the room.

Jag's gaze locked on Olivia, his lip curling, his look turning insolent as his gaze dropped to her breast. Coming to Pink's defense had cracked his hard-ass façade and he knew it, which was why he was doubling up on the insolence. Transparent as glass.

Yet knowing why he stared at her breast did nothing to protect her from her body's untoward reaction. Though she fought to ignore his laser stare, she felt her br**sts tightening beneath his fierce regard, her ni**les turning to small, hard buds. Heat burst inside her, raising her temperature in a telltale flush that warmed her skin and charged her blood. Goddess, what he did to her.

The more time she spent around him, the less control she had over her body's reaction to him. And she needed that control, badly. Part of her trouble was that she was getting hungry. Not for food, but for the life energy all draden-kissed needed to survive. Little pinpricks danced over her skin, telling her it was time to feed.

Slowly, carefully, she drew energy out of the air, as she often did. She drank a mere sip of the raw, testosterone-laden strength that filled the room, skimming a fine layer of life force that none would feel. That none would miss.

Jag snarled, a low, dangerous, animalistic sound, drawing Olivia's startled gaze. And everyone else's.

Jag rose to his feet, his own gaze whipping across the table to spear Paenther. "That witch of yours is doing something again. I can feel the energy rippling over my skin."