Rapture Untamed (Feral Warriors #4)(60)

Strong, beautiful, precious girl.

Mine.

He sat back on his haunches, watching her with fascination, sharing her excitement.

She didn't need him for this. She was a master, a virtuoso directing a symphony of massacre.

The little fiends died by the dozens, but the rest kept on coming, unthinking, drawn to her Therian energy, to their primary source of food. And they, too, died.

The cloud diminished with surprising swiftness until finally, with a last puff, the draden were gone.

Olivia did a quick turn, then stopped, facing him, hands on her hips, her feet spread, her face alight with a triumphant grin.

"I'm Superwoman."

Jag shifted back into his human form and grinned at her. "You looked like Superwoman. A one-woman draden-demolition team."

"It's never been like that. I've never been able to sense them individually. I can even..." She cocked her head, her expression turning thoughtful. "I can feel you. Your life force, bright and whole. I think..." Her brows drew together. "I think I could feed just from you. Even if there were others around, I think I could target you alone."

It occurred to him that her words should probably have him reaching for his knives, but she was no danger unless she wanted to be. He was as sure of that as he was of the sun's rising in the morning. If he hadn't been, he never would have brought her back to Feral House.

She watched him with growing intensity, as if she were studying him. "Tell me if you feel anything."

He did, that sense of her feeding. Not painfully strongly, but not lightly either.

Pamela Palmer Rapture Untamed

"You're feeding."

"Yes." At once, the feeling went away. "I wonder..."

Again, he felt a buzz, but it was different this time. Almost like a light tingle of energy that danced along the surface of his skin, sinking inside him. The energy began to flow into him, into his blood, into his muscle. His senses sharpened, his mind felt clearer, his energy renewed.

He stared at her. "What are you doing?" But he knew.

"When I feed, I pull energy into me. Right now, I'm pushing it back at you."

"I feel it. I feel stronger. Not like I'm ready to lift buses over my head, but I feel good.

Rested. Ready for anything."

Her fists dropped from her hips, and she tucked her knives away and closed the distance between them with an air of elation that made her face absolutely glow.

"Do you know what this means, Jag?"

He grinned, caught up in her joy. "Not a clue."

Pamela Palmer Rapture Untamed

"It means that if I take too much from someone, like that kid at the motel, I can give it back. I can target what I'm doing. Steal from an enemy without hurting those around me. And give back to those who need it. It's brilliant!"

He slipped his hands around her waist. "Easy, Red. It's brilliant while it lasts. But this may be temporary."

The brightness of her expression dimmed. "It may be. Then again, being draden-kissed has been quite permanent."

His hands rose to cup her face. As he stared into her shining gray eyes, he was gripped by a longing so fierce, so piercing, he had to catch his breath against the force of it.

Mine.

Deep within him, the jaguar roared his approval.

He took her into his arms and kissed her like a man too long without touch. Without tenderness. And he was that man. Goddess, he was exactly that man.

Olivia reached up and slipped her arms around his neck, her fingers caressing his flesh, his scalp. She'd walked into his life like a small flaming tornado, stirring up his existence, tossing everything he'd known, everything he'd believed, to the winds.

He wanted her with a desperation he could barely fathom. Her body, yes, but more. So much more. Her smiles, her joy of battle, her fierce pride, and her soft touches.

My mate.

But even as the words roared within his heart, that thing that lived inside him rose up with a horrific growl.

What right did he have to happiness? To love and a mate. To satisfaction. To joy?

None.

What he felt for Olivia was wrong. All wrong.

He was nothing but a selfish, coldhearted bastard who hadn't even stepped in to save his own mother. Who'd run to save himself, leaving her to die a death as awful as any Daemon could dish out.

He didn't deserve happiness, and never had. He didn't deserve Olivia.

On the edge of her consciousness, beyond the swirl of passion and hot desire, Olivia felt the kiss change from one of hungry tenderness to something sharper. Darker. The gentleness inexplicably vanishing.

The kiss turned from a sharing of passion to one far closer to a battle. For dominance and control. And Olivia never shied away from a battle.

As Jag's tongue swept into her mouth, staking a claim, her fingers tightened in his hair, pressing him closer until her lips ground against his. The kiss turned hungry and demanding, and not altogether nice.

She craved the taste of him, the touch of his mouth, his tongue, and reveled in the fierceness. She was strong, but so was he, and she exulted in his power.

His hands began to tear at her clothing and she shoved him back. With the life energy of a hundred draden pumping through her veins, she was nearly as strong as a Feral.

She pulled off her own clothing, having no desire to see any more of it ripped, and she sensed Jag was in a mood to do just that. As she tossed her bra in the grass and pulled down her panties, she met Jag's hot gaze, watching him smile wickedly.