Rapture Untamed (Feral Warriors #4)(57)

And stirring the bitterness and bile into a frenzy.

Never had he felt such a pull between wanting and not wanting. Even as the darkness inside him tried to shore up the cracks in the wall of ice, draining his heart of the unwanted warmth, he found himself pulling her tighter against him.

He pressed his lips to her forehead and clung to her as she did him, conflicting emotions a tempest inside him. He was what he was. A man without love. Without family, but for the men forced to include him. Without friends.

He'd been this way for too many years to count, and would always be, even if he sometimes wished he could be someone else. How many thousands of times had he wished he were a different man? Not Jag.

Olivia lifted a single hand to press against his cheek, and he was lost. The warmth filled him, pressing back the bile and bitterness and filling him until he thought he would burst from the pressure of it.

She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears all over again. "I thought I'd lost you,"

she whispered, her voice breaking.

"Lost me?"

"In that house. Delaney felt Tighe's pain, but we couldn't reach you, couldn't hear you.

Then the Daemon flew out of there, drenched in blood, and I thought..." Her voice cracked.

He lifted his hand and stroked the bright fall of hair back from her lovely face, barely crediting her words. "You were worried about me?"

A watery smile broke over her face, sending sunshine pouring into his soul. "You drive me crazy, Jag." Her mouth tightened, her bottom lip trembling. "But I don't want anything to happen to you. I need you."

He'd been so angry, thinking her tears were all for Niall. But she'd been dealing with the remnants of fear, too, just as he had. Because, goddess, he'd been terrified when he'd realized one of the Daemons was loose in the yard.

He cupped her face in his hands. "I'm sorry about Niall. I'm sorry I let my jealousy of him get in the way of letting you know that."

Her eyes grew dark as a nightmare. "No one should die like that."

He tilted her head toward him and placed a gentle kiss on her brow, then lifted her face to his again, meeting her gaze. "We'll get that bastard, Liv. We'll get them all. If it's the last thing I do, I'll promise you that. Because you're right. No one should ever have to die like that."

She nodded, a fierce determination lighting those gray eyes even as they remained locked on his, pulling him deeper and deeper. His gaze broke from hers, for only a second, dropping to her ripe, tear-swollen mouth. Tenderness surged through him, melding with the heat he felt every time he touched her.

His gaze returned to hers and held as he slowly lowered his face. Something shimmered in her eyes, a sweet longing that stole the last of his control, and he dipped his head and kissed her for the first time.

Her lips were soft and warm, and as sweet as he'd always known they would be. Why had he never kissed her before?

Her lips moved beneath his, a low, soft moan escaping her throat. Heat and desire swirled inside him, but tenderness won the battle, an overwhelming gentleness he hadn't felt in too long to remember.

His hand slid into her hair, cradling her head, while his other slid around her waist, holding her tight, bending her back as his mouth fused with hers.

He touched her lower lip with his tongue, fire shooting through him and eliciting another moan from her as she parted her lips, giving him access. But he felt no desire to hurry, no need to rush. He wanted to savor every taste, every touch. Goddess, he wanted this to last forever.

Soft fingers slid into his hair. Her mouth moved beneath his, her tongue darting out to stroke his own. He opened his mouth over hers and slid his tongue across the full length of hers, deep into her mouth, tasting her sweetness, falling into her warmth.

Over and over, he kissed her, memorizing the contours of her mouth, the feel of her tongue and lips, the taste of her. The kiss grew hotter with every stroke of his tongue against hers, with every stroke of hers against his until his breath was ragged, his hands tense and roaming, pulling her tighter and tighter against his growing need.

His desire for her intensified until it was a living, breathing thing inside him. And at the same time, he thought he'd be perfectly content to remain like this, just kissing this woman and holding her, for the rest of his immortal life.

His lips finally, reluctantly, left her mouth, driven by a need to taste more. To taste her everywhere. He swung her into his arms, meeting her sweet, sexy gaze.

Olivia curled her arm around his neck and stroked his cheek with her hand.

Neither spoke. No words were necessary. Besides, how many times had words gotten him into trouble? He'd become so adept at using words as weapons, he was no longer certain he knew how to use them any other way.

And now, here, he wanted no more battle between them.

Deep inside him, the jaguar purred, then let out a soft roar of possession.

Mine.

The thought rang in his head and his heart, echoing all the way to his soul.

Olivia trembled as Jag silently lowered her to the broken bed and followed her down, taking up where he'd left off, kissing her cheek, her jaw, the underside of her chin.

With infinite gentleness, he undressed her, then himself, and gathered her into his arms, laying kisses upon her br**sts, her shoulders, the inner curve of her elbows.

Never had she known such gentleness. Never had she allowed it. And never in a million years would she have expected it to come from Jag.