Last Wolf Hunting

“What do you know about fear?” she demanded, her voice cracking, bleak with emotion.

“I know it scares the hell out of me,” he confessed in a gritty rasp, his breath warm and damp, “thinking that I might have lost you during one of those challenges.”

“Damn you, Jeremy.” She tried to stumble back, but was caged in by the thick trunk of the tree, his hard body pressed against her front. He was a dark, raging presence before her, trapping her.

“I’m going to make it hard as hell for you to deny me,” he warned in a ragged tumble of words. Then his mouth claimed hers again, angry and hot and hungry.

Sweet Jesus. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. But who cared? He made it so much more than a mere kiss. It felt too intimate, too carnal, like the decadent, provocative things he did to her in her dreams.

Jillian knew she should push him away, but more than that, she wanted to pull him closer. The details, so shocking and electric, overwhelmed her. The sexy, slightly rough texture of his lips. The silken stroke of his talented tongue. She could taste his hunger, his heat, and it was like going under…falling into him. Everything pulsed through her with a sharp, shattering awareness. And yet, she was lost, floating, her head fuzzy with the rioting sensations as his tongue claimed her mouth more deeply, the kiss slow and eating and deliciously sweet, like warm, melting honey.

She moaned, giving up, rubbing her tongue against his, and everything changed.

With a low, hoarse curse, Jeremy crushed her breasts with the muscular wall of his chest, while taking deeper possession of her mouth. It was something decadent, hungry and invasive, the way he penetrated her, shoving past any resistance, smashing it beneath his dark, persuasive need… Only, she wasn’t resisting. Not anymore.

Jillian trembled, gasping. He growled low in his throat, moving against her, and she could feel the hard proof of his erection, long and thick enough to make her breath catch. Her hands lifted, the cool tips of her fingers touching in a butterfly caress against the scorching heat of his cheekbones, and she flinched from the warmth of his skin.

“Touch me,” Jeremy groaned against the corner of her mouth, nipping at her bottom lip, then diving back into the kiss with a breathtaking intensity that made her toes curl. “Put your goddamn hands on me, Jillian.”

The shaken, guttural words slipped through her system like a dizzying rush of pleasure, all but making her purr. God, yes, she wanted to. Wanted to put her hands on the hard, lean lines of his magnificent body and learn him by touch, taking him in the way someone who’d lost their sight could lose themselves in another world through Braille. He was an unknown landscape she wanted to explore until she was privy to all its secrets, until it was so much a part of her she knew it better than she knew herself.

Jillian slipped her tongue past his lips, lost in the dark, honeyed sweetness of his taste, and took the aggressive sound he made into her mouth at the same time she pressed the flat of her palms against his ribs, fingers splayed, wanting to touch as much of him as possible. His body communicated its hunger through his skin, burning her, even with the barrier of his shirt between them. But she wanted flesh. Wanted to feel the silken texture of his skin, the blond whirl of hair that circled his navel, then trailed in a daring arrow toward the blatant, rigid proof of his lust.

Moaning deep in her throat, Jillian slipped her hands under the hem of his shirt and clasped his hot skin at his sides, just above the waistband of his jeans. His breath shuddered in his chest and he panted against her lips as he pulled away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against hers. The hunger and chaotic mix of emotion Jillian had always carried for this one man surged through her, filling her up, giving her the courage to do what she’d never done before.

Now, she didn’t have a choice. Her body wouldn’t let her fight what her heart knew was going to hurt her in the end. Biting her lower lip, she trailed her fingertips to the waistband of his jeans, then slowly stroked them inward. Any second now she was going to touch that intimate, powerful part of him that she’d never explored when younger. A fine sheen of sweat coated his skin, his flesh burning hotter. His lips pulled back over his teeth and he stopped breathing.

Her fingers pulled closer…closer…and then she heard her name being called out over the eerie silence of the forest.

“Jillian? Are you out there?”

She wrenched her hands away and shoved against his chest. “Sayre?” she tried to shout, breathless, wondering how she’d let herself get into this situation. She lifted her wide gaze and almost jumped from the searing look of lust darkening his eyes. His jaw locked, and he finally reacted to her pushing hands, taking a step away, the front of her body left chilled at the loss of his incredible heat.

It terrified her, how badly she wanted to pull him back to her.

Taking her hands from the firm muscles of his chest, Jillian pressed them to her sides, and tried to find a measure of calm, even while her heart hammered out a vicious tempo beneath her ribs. “Sayre?” she called out again. “Where are you?”

“Right here,” her sister answered, the last word trailing off as the young woman stepped into the small glade and caught sight of them. “Oops,” she whispered, blushing, her blue-gray eyes wide with surprise. The ends of her curly, strawberry-blond hair just grazed her jaw, completing the fey look created by her unique features. Her nose was delicate, her chin sharp, jawline almost fragile. Her skin was as luminous as a pearl, the arc of her cheekbones always flushed with a wild color of rose because Sayre could never move at a normal pace. She was boundless energy and exuberance, like a hummingbird always flitting from one spot to another. But she was wise beyond her years, her big eyes steady and calm within the thick fringe of her lashes. She was a wild spirit with a pure heart who never let others down, and she was the closest friend Jillian had ever had.

“Um, sorry,” Sayre murmured, her curious gaze moving from one to the other. Jillian tried to avoid blushing, but knew her face was crimson. “I was so focused on finding you, I didn’t pick up on the fact that you aren’t alone.”

“It’s okay,” Jillian said firmly, stepping out from between the tree and Jeremy’s body, needing the space to breathe. “Jeremy and I were just—”

Before she could finish the thought, Jeremy took a step toward her sister, his green eyes full of startled surprise. “Sayre?” he whispered, while a slow grin curved his mouth. “I don’t believe it. Is that really you?”

A wry smile curled across Sayre’s mouth, and she ducked her head shyly. “Hi, Jeremy.”

“You were just a scrawny little runt the last time I saw you.”

Sayre’s musical laughter filled the glade, and it made Jillian’s heart hurt to think of how her sister had always followed Jeremy around when she was little, as worshipful as an adoring puppy. Sayre had been crushed when he’d left Shadow Peak, and it’d been so hard to explain to the little girl why he wasn’t coming back. “Yeah, well, that was a long time ago,” she said with an easy grace, obviously trying to put them at ease. “Not that I’ve ever managed to outgrow the scrawny thing. I may be taller, but I still look like a toothpick.”

“Naw. You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman. I bet you have all the boys chasing after you.”

“Hardly.” She laughed. “But it’s sweet of you to say so.”

“Is everything okay?” Jillian asked, irritated with herself for the tiny flair of jealousy she felt at their easy camaraderie. “You know I don’t like you leaving Shadow Peak on Challenge Nights. It isn’t safe.”

Sayre nodded. “Yeah, I know. But I had to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine. How did you find me?”

Sayre’s cheeks flushed, and she ducked her chin. “It wasn’t hard, Jilly. You were broadcasting pretty loudly.”

Jeremy arched a questioning brow in Jillian’s direction. “Sayre’s still growing into her powers,” she explained quietly, “but they’re already very strong.”

“Obviously,” he murmured, staring, and Jillian knew he was wondering just how strong her own powers had grown in the past decade.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Sayre said cautiously, flicking a nervous glance toward Jeremy, “but I wanted to let you know that Eric was waiting at your house. He heard about what happened at the clearing and wanted to come looking for you. It wasn’t easy, but I, um, convinced him to head home and let me check on things. I told him you’d call him later.”

“Eric who?” Jeremy questioned, at the same time Jillian whispered, “Hell.”

“Eric who?” he repeated, the words sharper this time.

“Um, Eric Drake,” Sayre said too brightly, wincing when she caught sight of Jillian’s glare.

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Why would Drake be waiting at your house for you?”

Jillian opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. “Not to sound rude, but that really isn’t any of your business.”

“Wrong answer,” he said silkily. “I’m making it my business.”

“I’m not doing this in front of Sayre,” she warned him in a quiet voice.

“All I want is an answer to my question.” Jillian could hear the silent for now tacked onto the end of his statement.

“We’re…friends.”

“You and Drake?” he rasped, his tone full of disbelief and the hard, biting edge of anger. “Since when?”

“A few months now,” she explained awkwardly, alarmed at the way he stumbled back a step, his expression little more than a hard mask, giving nothing away. But his eyes were like a window into his soul, and she knew the idea of her with Eric caused him pain. For years, she’d thought she’d take satisfaction in seeing him hurt, but she’d been wrong. Instead, his pain cut at her like a knife, jabbing and sharp, while shame pooled thickly in her belly.

“Why?” He didn’t need to say more. She knew exactly what he meant.

Her hands fluttered nervously at her sides, and she wished she was wearing jeans so that she could hide them in her pockets. “We started working together on a few of the new reform committees for education and housing. We ended up spending so much time together that we’ve become…close—”

“If you two are so close,” he interrupted, taking a step forward, hands planted on his hips, “why wasn’t he there tonight?” His lip curled in cruel sneer, but she could see the burn of a darker emotion in the deep, smoky green of his eyes. Jealousy burned harder than anger or fear or arrogance, blurring the edges so that only the source flared through, sizzling and sharp.

Jillian lifted her chin. “I asked him not to come. And he respects my wishes.”