Jag pressed his fists into the mattress, raising up to rest his weight on his arms, staring down at her. Enjoying the pleasure of seeing Karen’s body as he pumped in and out of her. Watching her breasts shake and jiggle with the pounding of their hips together.
She reached up and covered them with her hands, pinching her nipples and moaning. At the same time, she began bucking against him, wild like an animal, head tossing from side to side. It was his name murmured over and over in that sultry voice of hers that pushed Jag over the edge.
He needed…to taste her.
Fear enveloped him. Of what he might become. Of what he was feeling and could not control.
Letting his weight settle on top of Karen again, he hid his face, afraid his battle of beast against man might scare her. Did he look like the animal he felt? His tongue slid along his teeth, feeling for the elongated teeth of the Darklands, but his concern was lost. Lost to his arousal. Lost to how near release his body had become.
But Karen wouldn’t allow him to back off. She nipped and licked even as she arched into him. “More, Jag. More.” Then near his ear, in a husky whisper, “Take me, Jag. All of me. Anything you want is yours. I…Oh. I am—”
The words were cut off when her body clenched at his cock and demanded his release. Spasms of her orgasm gripped him, stroking his shaft with tight little squeezes. Drawing him into ecstasy. He could do nothing but accept the cry of his body. Accept there was no escape from it or what might follow.
Jag thrust into Karen, burying himself to her deepest point, and shaking as he spilled himself inside her. But with his pleasure came an urge, primal, refusing to be ignored, demanding he claim Karen as his own.
He couldn’t think. Couldn’t stop what he had to do.
Jag’s teeth sharpened and he sunk them deep into her shoulder. Deep into the sensitive flesh of her body until he tasted the bittersweet proof of her life…her blood.
In his mind, Jag screamed with denial. No! He could not be this thing. He could not be a beast. He wouldn’t…but he was. Lord help him…he was.
Chapter 8
Karen sat up with a sharp inhalation of air, her eyes darting around the room, searching for reality.
Outside the window, sunshine spilled through the gape in the curtains of the bedroom. Brown curtains. Her gaze dropped. Brown carpet. Same room in Jaguar Ranch.
Her hand went to her chest. It had been a dream. Just a dream. She blinked. An incredibly vivid dream. A strange dream. To have a little fantasy dream with Jag as the star didn’t seem so hard to believe. The man was gorgeous, even if he was arrogant and bossy. Still, to do so under the circumstances…no, it was more than that. To have that dream.
To say it had been odd would be an understatement. But it had been more than odd. It had felt emotional. Intense. Lord help her, hot. Really hot. Arousing. She could tell her jeans were damp from her body’s reaction to the images in her sleep.
The voices in her head…She’d heard whispers.
He must accept you.
Claim him or the darker side will.
You are his salvation.
She could almost hear them in her head now. Like they were repeating over and over. She shook her head. This was nuts. She was going nuts.
Holding her hand out in front of her, realizing she was actually shaking a bit. Inside that dream she’d felt so involved, so urgently in need. For a moment, she just sat there, the dream replaying in her head. Her body feeling all warm and aware with the flash of naked bodies and sensual kisses.
Karen shook off the thoughts, laughing at herself, though even to her own ears, it sounded strained. She pushed to her feet, noting the doorway that she hoped led to a bathroom. This was ridiculous. She’d had a dream bred of circumstances. Even Jag biting her in the dream, and her actually liking it! The monster stories, this ranch and the arrogantly sexy man running it, her sister’s bite marks…all of it combined was messing with her head.
And judging from the aches in her body, she hadn’t even slept long. She shouldn’t have slept at all. She needed to find out about Eva. Karen flipped on the light in the tiny bathroom and turned to face the mirror. Dark circles smudged her pale cheeks and worry laced her features.
And she was worried. About her sister. About her decision to come to Jaguar Ranch. Damn. About that dream. It still felt so a part of her. God. It was familiar, too. Wait. Her hands went to the plain white sink, the counter barely wider than her hips as she leaned into it. She’d dreamed of Jag before. Her head spun as images flashed in her mind. Images of him kissing her like he had in the airport, saying the same words…only, it hadn’t been her he was kissing. It had been someone else. Yet, it felt like her.
Swallowing against the sudden dryness in her throat, she tried to make sense of the story playing in her head. Of the words that repeated once again in her mind.
He must accept you.
Claim him or the darker side will.
You are his salvation.
The words clung to her emotions, compelling and alive with meaning. Almost as if they possessed her. She balled her fist and pressed it to her chest, realizing her heart was pounding like a drum. Inhaling and then letting it out, she forced herself to calm. To process. She had to think. Panic wasn’t her style nor would it get her anywhere now.
What did all of this mean?
What was happening to her?
Jag needed answers, and he needed them now. His heart pounded against his chest as he took the stairs to the upper level of the house two at a time. Either Karen was playing games with his mind while he slept, or someone was using her to do it.
Either way, it stopped now. This was his house—his. He would not be a victim under his own roof. If he couldn’t control what happened here, how the hell would he control all the outside obstacles he and his men faced?
Rinehart stood outside the entrance to Karen’s room, arms crossed in front of him, staring straight ahead. You could take the man out of the Army, but you couldn’t take the Army out of the man. At least, not in Rinehart’s case.
Jag walked past him, no explanation offered. He unlocked the door, and eyed Rinehart. “What’s the status on the sister?”
“Same,” Rinehart said, never a man of many words.
“Lock it behind me,” Jag said as he turned the knob.
Without waiting on a reply, he stepped inside the room. No announcement. No knock. Finding the room empty, his gaze went to the bathroom at the same moment she appeared, a startled look on her face as she took in his presence.
Jag felt her presence like a charge of electricity. His body responded with memories of his dream. Of having touched her and tasted her. He was going insane over this woman. And just like that he snapped. He’d only intended to talk to her. To demand answers.
Instead he charged at her, unable to think beyond the moment and the two emotions clinging to him like a second skin. Desire and fear. Fear of losing himself to the beast. Driven by these feelings, Jag scooped Karen into his arms and carried her to the bed.
“What do you think you are doing?” she yelped, squirming in his arms to no avail.
Jag went down on the mattress with her, his legs framing her hips, hands grasping her wrists over her head. He rationalized his actions and words. If he fucked her now, he’d defeat the power she possessed of him in his sleep. Yes. That was what had to happen. He’d take her now and prove to both of them that she couldn’t push him to places he didn’t want to go. He was awake, and nothing outside this room controlled his actions.
He stared down at her. “Here I am, Karen. Right here. No dream. If you want to mess with my mind, do it in my face. If you want to have sex with me, do it in the flesh.”
Not giving her time to respond, Jag kissed her, his hands sliding to her face, his weight rested on his forearms. She was stiff at first, but in mere moments, she was whimpering into his mouth.
He felt her hands touch his shoulders, and then pull away, as if she fought her response. Jag did
n’t like that. He wanted her submission. Needed it, even. Here in flesh and blood, he needed to establish Karen’s inability to control him.
He deepened the kiss, making love to her with slow, sensual slides of his tongue. Her scent, her taste, her very presence, filled him, pushing him to take more. And he did. He wasn’t holding back. The beast wasn’t coming out. Neither it nor Karen had a say in how this went.
Satisfaction filled him as her fingers glided up his arms, lacing behind his neck. Proof, she no longer held back. Proof he was breaking her, not the opposite. This woman might dominate him in his sleep, but not here, in the waking world.
Wildness formed between them, like two beings starving for what only the other could deliver. He cupped her ass, lifting her and molding her hips to his, moaning at the sweet pressure against him. Somehow, one of her hands found its way beneath his clothes, her soft palm grazing his back and side. The skin-to-skin contact scorching him, making him want more.
Still kissing her, he shoved her shirt up, finding the front latch to her bra and snapping it apart. He trailed his lips down her jaw, and neck, even as he filled his palms with her breasts. Jag wanted her shirt gone, over her head, but he was impatient. Instead he slid downward, his mouth finding her nipple and suckling.
Karen moaned, arching her back, fingers sliding into his hair. Her response drove him onward, and he swirled his tongue around the hardened peak. He took his time, licking and teasing, moving from one nipple to the next, feeling her arousal in her body’s response.
But when he lifted his mouth to find hers, his gaze caught on hers and locked. In her passion-filled eyes, he found more than lust and desire. More than the arousal they shared. Lord help him, something deep inside him moved in that moment. Something he hadn’t felt since he’d looked into his wife’s eyes…since Caron.
He stared at her, wondering why she reminded him of his wife, why she did to him what only one other had done. Though there were no real answers to be found, her gaze held innocence and honesty. She wasn’t plotting against him. If anything, she was more victim than him. After all, he knew the war being fought. He’d chosen sides. With these realizations came a heavy dose of reality. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t take Karen out of anger and accusation.
Murmuring an apology, he rolled off of her, onto his back. He covered his face with his arm, and willed the rage of his body to calm. Everything inside him screamed to go back to her. To take her. He just needed to lay here a minute.
And not touch her.
He absolutely could not touch her again.
Karen scrambled to fix her shirt and bra, feeling her cheeks flush with the realization of just how willingly she’d given herself to a stranger. If he hadn’t stopped…well, she wasn’t sure she would have. She’d been shocked when he’d carried her to the bed. Even more so when he’d started kissing her. But her own reaction, her blatant lust, that was the kicker, and the thing, that had her floundering for what to say or do next. Karen had no business participating in some sex-fest when her sister might need her.
Clothes back in place, Karen sat there on the bed, staring at Jag. At the wild array of hair framing his face. At the dimple in his square chin. At his muscular forearm as it rested over his forehead.
Somehow, her gaze managed to settle on his stomach where his shirt was still pushed up from her efforts. On a thin trail of hair leading from his inverted navel to his waistband before disappearing in his faded Levi’s. She swallowed as she thought of exactly where it might end and how much she wanted to find out.
She lightly shook her head, trying to get rid of the craziness of her thoughts. Talk. They needed to talk.
Karen diverted her gaze and pulled her knees to her chest, arms wrapping them. If she kept looking at this man, her mind would not be on talking. The urge to climb on top of him and kiss him again was all too strong.
She felt like she was in the Twilight Zone. Fear, not lust, should be her reaction to Jag, a man who basically held her captive. But she didn’t fear him. Not at all. She made a face. That was obvious, considering she’d just gotten half-naked with the man.
Eyeing his unmoving form, she wished he would say something. But even now, with no words spoken, the feeling of knowing him was getting stronger. The dream—correction, the dreams, as in plural—of him seemed to indicate she, indeed, knew him, though she couldn’t imagine any woman forgetting a meeting with this man.
Something Jag had said surfaced. He’d mentioned a dream right before he’d thrown her into a heated flurry of kissing him. Could it be possible for two people to share a dream? She didn’t know, but one thing was for certain, whatever was between her and Jag seemed somehow linked to Eva. It had to be.
Growing up here, then traveling the world, Karen had heard superstitions and myths. She rarely gave any of them merit. But now, well now, the myths, the bites on Eva’s neck, this ranch…it all seemed to add up. She drew a breath. If she said any of this out loud, she’d be called an absolute Fruit Loop. Still, her sister was affected by whatever was going on, and Karen had to keep an open mind. Before she told anyone else, she’d get proof. Somehow. Someway. She’d get proof. And she’d help Eva. She’d keep her sister safe.
Delicately, Karen cleared her throat. “Jag?”
Silence.
“Jag?” she asked, and touched his shoulder.
He jerked his arm away and turned his head to fix her in an accusing stare. “I’m hanging on by a thread here. Unless you want me to forget I’m a gentleman, don’t touch me.”
She frowned. Could this man really want her that much? Surely he had women lined up to please him. Besides, he’d put her through virtual hell in the past few hours.
“You’re hanging by a thread?” she demanded, feeling fairly agitated at this point. “What about me?” Her hands dropped from her legs and she moved to her knees to face him. And as always, when she got angry, she was swiping her hand through the air. “You come in here, flinging accusations at me, after you’ve kept me from my sister, invaded my dreams and then made me act like a…a damn hussy or something.” Feeling flustered, she paused, “I don’t like it one bit.”
He was sitting up now, and his hand shackled her wrist. “Oh, now you dare touch me?” Karen demanded. “Let go. I’m sick of being bullied by you. I want to leave. Let me have my sister and I am out of here.”
“You had a dream about me?” he asked, urgency in his voice.
“Yes,” she said, glowering at him. “I had a dream. I was trying to tell you that when you shoved me away.”
He ignored her comment. “Have you had one since you got to the ranch?”
She nodded. “Yes, and you’re squeezing my wrist too hard.”
He loosened his grip but didn’t let go or acknowledge the remark in any other way. “Have you ever dreamed about me before?”
“I would have said no this morning but now…now I think the answer is yes. The images are cloudy but I feel certain I’ve dreamed of you. Maybe many times.”
Jag stared at her, his dark eyes intense. Potent. Unreadable. As abruptly as he’d grabbed her, he let her go. With an agile move, he was off the bed. He paced the room a moment, much like she had earlier, pausing with his back to her and running his hand through his hair.
Karen could feel his torment like a charge in the air. He was struggling with some unnamed emotion she wished she understood. Maybe it would give her insight into what was going on.
“I know you think you can’t trust me,” she said in a low voice, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Honestly I don’t know if I can trust you. Still, it seems whatever is going on involves us both, and I think I deserve to know what it’s all about.”
Jag turned then, facing her and fixed her in a potent stare, his dark eyes holding a hint of darkness beyond their color. His hair was in wild array around his face from having both their hands all in it.
“You want to know what this is about?” he asked, but he didn’t give her time to respond. “Us
sharing dreams. You say you dreamed of me since your arrival here. Well, I dreamed of you, too. What happened at the end of your dream, Karen?”
She didn’t know what to say. Did she dare bring up him biting her? “You…”
“I bit you,” he said. “Whoever is playing with our dreams wants that to happen. Once I bite you, once I cross that line, I become like the beast that hurt your sister. I lose everything I am.” The words lingering in the air with implication. “So now you have your answer. This is about monsters, Karen. Real-life monsters like the one who bit your sister. Monsters that steal your soul and your life. They did mine.”
She swallowed, fighting the emotion welling in her chest. His emotion as it reached out and wrapped around her. Of an odd connection that made her understand exactly what he was feeling.
“Jag—”
He cut her off with a swipe of his hand. “You were right not to trust me. I do fight those monsters but as you saw in your dream, I am not so different from them, either.” His teeth clenched, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “But this ranch and my men are the closest thing to safety you have. If you leave, they will hunt you down and kill you. So choose to believe me or don’t. It’s up to you. Just know this—staying means you live.”
She expected him to say more, but when he didn’t, she realized he was waiting for a response. There really wasn’t an option. Everything inside her said he spoke the truth, as insane as it would sound if she said it out loud.
“For how long?”
“You and your sister have become targets, and don’t ask me why. I don’t know.” His lips thinned. “But I intend to find out.”
She nodded, believing him. “We’ll stay.”
“There’s more,” he said. “The dreams won’t stop. Whoever is doing this plans to push me to the limit.”
“And you think they are using me to do it?”
“Do you know what my wife’s name was?” he asked, but didn’t give her time to answer. “It was Caron. C-a-r-o-n. The Italian version of your name.”