In Like a Lion (18 page)

She stepped up to him and sought his mouth again.

His body felt cool against hers in the heat of the room. His mouth was as fiery as the blazing desert sun outside the window.

She slid further into his embrace.

They kissed with a frenzied need that only fanned the flames, then fell together onto the rickety bunk.

Anjali gasped and gripped Jake’s forearms as he lowered his head and enveloped her nipple in the wet heat of his mouth. The pleasure was almost too intense. The draw of his lips on her nipple, the sight of his dark head against her pale skin, were so erotic she writhed, groaning. He looked up, his eyes vibrantly blue in the light slanting from the windows. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked, his gaze still locked with hers. She clutched at his shoulders. “Jake.”

His eyes gleamed at the rising pitch of her voice.

The air felt cool on her breast as he abandoned it to lick his way to its twin. He lavished a similar attention on her other nipple and she arched off the bed beneath him. “Come into me now,” she begged, but he wasn’t finished.

His tongue flicked moist patterns down her body. He parted her folds and repeatedly stroked the creamy aching nub, first with a finger and then with his tongue.

“Oh God, Jake, please.”
No way was he a virgin, no matter what he said
. But at that moment she didn’t give a damn.

He dragged himself back up onto his elbows over her, parted her thighs with his own. The silky feel of him, so hot and hard on her stomach, made her cry out. He probed her gently, just rubbing his slick skin on hers.

She adored the feel of his body, large and lithe. His maddening scent enveloped her. The desire in his eyes, half-closed with pleasure, made her feel like a temptress.

Her legs enfolded his hips. She wrapped her arms around him, pulled him into her, her hands caressing the contours of his back as he entered her, filled her.

The room disappeared. She rose to meet his thrusts. Short, excited gasps and moans, she barely recognized as her own, rasped in her ears.

Jake groaned, threw back his head. She could feel him pulse inside her and the knowledge of his climax thrilled her, drove her over the edge.

She dug her nails into his skin and convulsed under him in a swell of ecstasy so profound the world could have marched in and she wouldn’t have known it.

He sagged against her. Weak with the aftermath, she pressed a kiss to his salty shoulder, hugging him to her.

They stayed that way for several long minutes. Finally, Anjali’s heart rate resumed its normal speed.

Jake swiveled to the edge of the bed and reached for his clothes. He didn’t look at her and she suddenly felt shy and awkward.

He dressed quickly.

She watched him for a moment, searching for a sign of his feelings, then took refuge in humor. “Jake Finn,” she said in a deep announcer’s voice. “You’ve just rocked a woman’s world. What are you going to do now?”

Jake gave a tiny laugh. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, how did you learn so much pop culture? I mean, you’ve only been here for a few years, right?”

“We do get American movies in India, you know,” Anjali said. She hesitated, not wanting to think about the past but needing to share. “After my mother died, I had trouble sleeping. A person can only study so many hours in the day, so I watched movies.”

“Why American movies? Why not Hindi movies?”

She shrugged. “It was too painful, I guess. I didn’t want to be reminded of what I’d lost.”

He nodded and averted his gaze.

A spasm of pain gripped her chest. Would she be forced to leave him? Or worse, was he going to be one more thing she would lose?

He lifted his head, like an animal scenting the wind, and held up a hand. “I hear a helicopter.”

Chapter 23

When the sound died away, Jake turned to Anjali. “Gather the supplies. We’ll have to hoof it. We can’t risk flying with helicopters in the air.”

Anjali sighed.
Great. More walking.
She supposed she should be more afraid, but somehow, Jake made her feel protected, at least from Kincaid and his men, and there was only so much she could think about the other thing.

Minutes later, she hefted her purse, now heavy with cans.

He took it from her. The cans clanked and sloshed as he slid the strap over his shoulder.

How a man could appear deadly with a woman’s shoulder bag slung over one shoulder, she had no idea, but it in no way detracted from the air of sheer power cloaking him.

A shiver rippled through her as she remembered the excitement of his touch. Her skin tingled.

He glanced at her. His pupils expanded and she realized he could detect her renewed arousal. He slid his hand inside the open collar of her blouse, wrapped it around the back of her neck, and dragged her close.

Despite the urgent intensity on his face, his mouth met hers softly in a kiss so tender she wanted to cry. Again she wondered what she was doing. She wouldn’t risk her heart and he’d suffered enough.

He pulled away, resting his forehead on hers. “I
will
keep you safe.”

The words were a vow, but something about the way he said them sent a shaft of fear rocketing through her. Air snagged in her throat. “What are you going to do?”

“After we get you to Las Vegas, I’m going after Kincaid. As long as he’s alive, he’s a threat to you.”

Anjali swallowed. “You plan to confront him in his own territory? In the building where he kept you captive for years?” She let anger bury her fear. “Ugh! You are such a . . . a
man
!”

She shoved him back and marched out the door.

Jake trailed Anjali out the door, her spine under her thick, glossy braid appeared ramrod straight. She radiated righteous outrage. Probably best if he didn’t try to talk to her.

She brushed by a mound-like grayish bush no more than knee height.

“Stay on the path. It’s easier to see the rattlesnakes,” he called.

She swerved away from the vegetation and steamed ahead. He found himself biting back a grin as he followed, increasing his pace to keep up.

He’d almost reached her when she suddenly sagged, arms wrapped around her middle.

He caught her before she could hit the desert pavement. Scooping her up into his arms, he cradled her against his chest, his pulse surging with terror. “What is it, Anjali? What happened? Are you bit?”

Her face was blanched paper-white. A thin film of sweat shone on her cheeks. She shook her head. “No. I—it hurts.”

“Where?” He ran one hand over her legs and up her arms, searching for a cause. “Where are you hurt?”

“All over. Oh.” She jolted in his arms, as if shocked by electricity, and her eyes closed.

“Anjali!” He shook her, gently. Her head lolled on her neck, wisps of hair clinging to her damp face. He brought her mouth up to his cheek. A whisper of breath tickled his skin. He almost sagged with relief. She was alive, but what was wrong with her?

They’d had plenty of water. He surveyed the sky, sun-bleached to a pale denim. It was hot, but they hadn’t been out in it long enough for heat stroke.

Her illness.
God, even when Kincaid had had him strapped down for some cruel-ass experiment, he’d never felt so helpless.

He raced her to the spring and splashed water on her face. His heart thudded like a bass drum, each beat banging painfully against his chest. Was he losing her?

He embraced her, trying hard to be gentle, his heart fighting to resume its normal rhythm, trying to think of something—anything he could do, then she gasped and opened her eyes.

She mumbled a word, but it was too garbled for him to understand.

“What?”

She sat up, blotting her forehead, shiny with sweat, with a slender forearm.

Jake peered up once more at the painfully blue sky. “Damnit. Don’t do that to me again. I thought you were dead!”

He set her down and knelt next to her, helping her drink some water, his gaze playing over her drawn features.

“It wasn’t . . . exactly a . . . picnic for me.”

A laugh bubbled up inside him and echoed on the rocky slopes nearby. He hugged her again, inhaling the scent of her hair and skin. “How are you feeling now?”

She licked her lips and swiped the moisture from her face with her hand. “I think I’m OK. I’ve never felt anything like that.”

“Do you think it’s your illness?” He whisked back a damp strand of hair that had glued itself to her cheek and felt the base of her throat to check her pulse, happy to find it steady.

She felt her cheeks with her palms. “Your guess is as good as mine, but it seems likely.”

Finally, when she seemed stronger, he got to his feet. “Can you stand? I hate to push forward but whoever Kincaid has sent after us is probably getting closer.”

Anjali stood. She was a little wobbly and he propped a hand under her elbow.
Damn, she felt fragile
. She should be in a hospital.

He’d hauled a sick woman from the safety of her home into one of the most dangerous places on Earth. The thought cut deep, digging a furrow in his chest big enough to hold a rising well of rage and guilt. He wanted to tear something to pieces, but this adversary was beyond his reach.

Something must have shown on his face because she took one step and halted as she caught sight of his expression. “What is it?”

He shook his head. “I’ve done nothing but put you in danger since the moment we met.”

Anjali’s lush mouth firmed. “
Kincaid
put me in danger.”

He held her, her hands warm in his, as she tested her legs. Whatever had thrown them together, whatever might rip them apart, he could support her now.

She leaned against him, smiling with the tight brevity of someone pretending everything was OK, then threaded her fingers through his and they began to walk.

A few hours later, Jake opened the can of peaches with a single claw.

Anjali grinned. “I see you’re getting used to your abilities. I find it fascinating that there’s a flash when you shift completely, but no light at all when you only partially change.”

Jake eyed his claw as it retracted, and his finger returned to normal. “We’ll add that to the list of things to ask my brother about someday.” He made sure his tone was light, but in the back of his mind the ghost of her illness lingered, whispering that there might not be a someday.

Anjali seemed more at ease with his animal nature than he was, but then she’d never had to face a part of herself that wasn’t entirely under her control.

Still, everything that’d happened in the last few days gave him hope he could master his animal side.

Anjali pressed her lips together, her face sad, and he wondered if he’d said something to cause that expression, or she was thinking about her illness. Since he’d rather surrender to Kincaid’s tender mercies than talk about that, he settled for turning the subject back to his abilities.

“You know when I discovered I wasn’t crazy, all I could feel was relief, but later, I was angry at not being normal.” He smiled a little.

Anjali tilted her head as she listened, but didn’t respond. He’d never been a ‘talker’, so it was funny how easy he found it to talk to her.

He scuffed a toe on the ground, uncovering an under-layer of paler dirt. “Now, I’m starting to like it.” It was only as he said the words that he realized they were true. He might not be normal, but maybe he was more. Maybe there was a place for him. A way for him to rejoin the world.

A grimace gripped Anjali’s features, driving away his thoughts. Her thick lashes brushed her cheeks. She inhaled, long and slow. “It’s happening again.”

The episodes of pain had come sporadically as they’d traveled, forcing him to carry her part of the way, her slender body nestled against his chest. An act he would have enjoyed if it hadn’t been for the reason.

A sheen of sweat glazed her forehead. “Talk to me. Maybe it’ll take my mind off it. Tell me how you shift.”

He sorted through his thoughts, his stomach knotted with dread. How could he talk when he knew the agony racking her? But she needed the distraction and it was the least he could do for her.

“I picture the lion in my mind.” He shrugged. “The other forms are part of me all the time. I think of them and it’s like they emerge from their cages.”

“What about—” She paused to marshal her strength as if she’d been running, then nodded at his hand. “Changing just a part.”

“Same thing. I just imagine the part I want to change.”

“What-what does it feel like?”

Her skin appeared clammy again. He started to go to her, but she waved him back with a limp hand.

Her refusal of his comfort hurt, but he squashed the feeling with a twitch of his shoulder. “Nothing really. It’s like moving a part of you. You think it and it happens.”

She seemed wrung out and he hurried to keep her mind off her pain, aching to stop and consider she was dying in front of him. “Tell me about what it was like growing up in India.”

She smiled, but her skin was ashen. “I had a wonderful childhood. My mother and I were very close. She was my best friend.”

“And your father?”

A shudder rocked her shoulders. She shrugged, hugging herself. “He loved me. He did, but when I was small, well, I don’t think I was what he’d expected of his only child.”

The tiny catch in her voice burrowed into his chest and took up residence there. He squeezed his hands into helpless fists, uncertain what to say.

She smiled, but it was the kind of smile people give when covering grief. “I ran wild. Always into everything. It got better though.”

“What changed?”

“One day when I was about ten, I saw the disappointment in his eyes.” The sun gleamed on her cheekbones as she watched a hawk trace the bowl of low peaks around them. “It was worse than any scolding. I can’t say I got control overnight, but I tried. I guess that’s why this illness is so scary. I haven’t felt so out of control since then.”

He touched her hand. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Her expression was stark. “In the end, everybody is alone.”

Stung, he stood and paced a stride away.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped and began again. “Jake, I’m sorry, but I can’t lean on anyone. It’s too hard when they leave.”

He took a long draw of dry desert air. What the hell could he say? He planned to go back for Kincaid and he couldn’t promise he’d survive.

He studied the horizon for a moment. “Are you ready to go?”

He helped her stand, steadying her.

She touched her temple with a shaky hand. “Whoa.”

He froze. “What?”

“The pain has mostly faded, but I keep hearing, seeing, and smelling things that can’t possibly be real.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I probably need to drink more water.”

After a long swig, her color improved.

“How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad, but—” She inhaled deeply through her nose. “This is going to sound weird, but I smell trouble.”

He imitated her, turning his head into the wind. A whiff of man, leather, gunpowder, and cold determination met his nose. “I do, too.”