Amber Fire (2 page)

Her breath caught in her lungs with that declaration; it should have scared her but only made her hotter. Her fingers curled around his T-shirt, hands resting on the solid wall of his chest. Her knees were weak, but he held her steady, their legs intimately entwined together.

“Are you?” she demanded hoarsely, tipping her chin up in what was meant as an act of defiance but instead became a plea for a kiss. A plea he answered without the slightest hesitation.

His lips closed down on hers, brutally wonderful lips, his tongue pressing past hers, into the wet recesses of her mouth. One long forceful stroke, followed by another. He tasted like cinnamon and spice with a hint of coffee. Felt like sin, and the kind of devilish, demanding satisfaction she wasn't sure she'd experienced—not in this lifetime—but she wanted to. She melted for this man like the sun did into the moon—like light into darkness. And he was dark, dark in ways she probably did not want to know, but yet, darkly addictive in ways she felt she
had
to know. There was no chance of resistance, no hope of denying her desire for this man. She'd wanted him since the first moment she'd met him. She was wet and wanting now, welcoming the escape from everything, from the fear of moments before, into a place that was safe and pleasurable. To the desire and the warmth that was Jareth.

But as certainly as he had claimed her mouth, he released it and her, his heavy-lidded stare meeting hers. “Am I a beast?” he said softly, his voice a rough timbre of a taunt. “I suggest you leave before you find out the answer to that question.” He turned and started walking, the image of pure masculine power striding up that mountainside, fitting in here in a way that no simple writer could have.

Was he a beast? Jareth had all but dared her to find out. And he was no fool. He knew what he'd done. The question was—why had he ordered the others away and challenged her to stay? Should she be erotically charged or should she be scared? Because, it seemed, she was a lot of both. The two combined had Amber on fire.

N
early a week after the near attack in their camp, and the steamy hot kiss with Jareth, neither big cats nor man had been seen again, and the hard work on the cavern site was exhaustively underway. Exactly why Amber all but ran to the waterfall nuzzled intimately between brilliantly carved canyon walls, moonlight glistening off the water with the inviting promise of sweet relief and privacy. Though, if she were honest with herself, Amber wasn't sure if she was burning up from a day of relentless digging or from the long nights that had shifted from nightmares to erotic fantasies about Jareth.

No doubt he was displeased that her crew had remained. She'd tried to send them away, regardless of the impact their departure might have had on her grant. She hadn't done it for Jareth, but for her own peace of mind that they were safe. But most of the crew had worked for her father, and they hadn't missed the significance of finding a jaguar presence when they were hunting Yaguara, any more than Amber had. Everyone was in cautious, but energized mode. They were here for the long haul.

Determined to relax, if only for a few minutes, Amber raced to the edge of the pond, unbuttoning her shirt and discarding the tranquilizer rifle she'd been carrying around like a second skin. No matter how quiet things had been at their camp, that feeling of being stalked had not gone away, nor had the need to maintain a confident, calm façade for her crew. Which only made her need for this short escape all the more urgent.

Amber stepped to the edge of the water, naked and anticipating the cool, crisp relief of that pond. She waded through liquid ripples, the ground disappearing from beneath her feet, little pulses from the waterfall caressing her limbs, her auburn hair floating to the surface. She sighed and relaxed for the first time in days, settling onto her back, floating weightlessly, her arms and legs gently stroking the water.

For long moments, she simply enjoyed the pulses of the waterfall fluttering along her skin, her mind traveling to one of those midnight fantasies of Jareth. She might not have the flesh and blood man here to pleasure her, but she had those dreams. Back to what it had felt like to be in his arms. What it would feel like to be there again, with him naked. And she had done plenty of contemplating how he would look. So fiercely male, with long, sinewy muscles. What he would be like. Demanding. He would be demanding in all the right ways.

Her hands traveled her body, caressing a path up her sides and then over the stiff peaks of her nipples, outlined by the water. A soft moan slid from her lips. In her mind, it was Jareth's hands on her body, touching her, and that stiff, hard cock outlined in denim, pressed between her thighs, moving against her, teasing her. The fantasy came to her with such brilliant clarity, it was almost as if he were there, by her side. In the water.

Abruptly, a warning, sharp and daunting, sliced into the fantasy. Her chest tightened. Fear shimmered across Amber's skin in a rush of goose bumps that sent her bolting upright, hands fluttering in the water as her gaze did a quick sweep of the woods. Amber opened her mouth to call out and quickly pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to demand who was there. And someone
was
there—she could feel the heavy weight of being watched.

The woods carved a circle around the water, greenery flickering wildly as something brushed harshly against the undergrowth along the edges. A low sound—a growl followed, then another. Jaguar! Amber's heart jumped as she launched herself forward, swiping her hands wildly through the water in a path toward the gun. Good Lord, she was a fool. She'd allowed the cats' absence to let her forget just how dangerous they were.

She'd made it about halfway to her destination when she froze in place at the sight before her. From the center of a thickly wooded area came a male form—tall, dark, lethally sexy and dressed in black jeans and a tight black T-shirt.

Jareth strode forward, a dominant force, silently claiming ownership of everything around him. Commanding order. Commanding control, just as she thought he would do in bed . . . Silence slid through the woods, not even the sound of a bird could be heard. She, herself, didn't dare breathe.

He stopped when her weapon and clothes rested at his feet. Bent down and lifted her black silk panties on one finger. “Not much on bathing suits, I take it?”

A breath trickled past her lips at the gentle taunt, the tension of seconds before sliding away with its escape. “The swim was spontaneous.” Somehow she doubted he would be a man who did anything on a whim. Not even kiss her. Which meant his dare had been as planned as the kiss.

He dropped her panties, leaned his arm on his knee. “Did you know that jaguars are excellent swimmers? That they, in fact, love the water?”

Amber swam away from him, to the rocky ledge to the left of the waterfall and held on. “I don't see a jaguar,” she countered, a challenge in her voice. “And we both know they won't come around as long as you're here. They're afraid of you.”

He arched a wicked, sexy eyebrow, not bothering with denial. “Are you afraid?”

Instinctively, the words made her look for her weapon. It was gone. He'd taken it, no doubt. And so she said, “I should be,” and wondered why she was not.

“Yes,” he said, his voice a sensual caress. “You should be afraid.”

And yet she had never wanted a man more in her life, and after losing her father, she'd seen how short life could be. “I'm not.” Certainty filled her. This place was what she'd been looking for. And so was this man. Five years of searching had led her to this place, and to this man. She wasn't letting him slip away.

She pushed herself up onto the rock, water pouring off of her boldly displayed naked body as she settled on top of it and pulled her knees in front of her. “Jaguars love the water,” she said, the pool of water separating them. “Do you?”

 

Jareth had come here to do more than fuck Amber Green, more than bury himself deep inside her and finally find blessed relief from the raging hard-on she'd given him since the day he'd met her. He planned to wait until her most vulnerable moment and demand the answer he sought. Was she one of the generations of Hunters—like her father before her, like Mike and so many of her crew were now—who tracked down and killed the Yaguara? Who judged them by race, not actions, and murdered them in cold blood? Because if she was a Hunter, seducing him to find the secrets of his people, she was misjudging him. He wasn't just Yaguara, he was a Sentinel of his race, and at three hundred years old, one of the ancients of his kind, one of the strongest and most powerful. He did not die easily, nor did he take sins against his race lightly. If she was using him, if she was a Hunter, he would make sure the pleasure he gave her this night was the last she would ever experience, for he would kill her himself. And if she was innocent—and why he wanted her to be, so damn badly, he did not know—well, then, she deserved to know the truth about what she was involved with, before her ignorance got her killed.

He stepped to the edge of the water, the crystal liquid the only barrier stopping him from seeking the truth. She smiled at him, a perfect mixture of seduction and innocence, before crooking a finger at him to urge him forward. The swell of her breast peeked from beneath her thigh with the movement, teasing him with that barely there glimpse. His cock twitched, thickening with arousal, his blood rich with fire. He wanted those breasts filling his palms, then pressed to his chest. Hunger clawed at him—ravenous, demanding, unforgiving.

His desire for her infuriated him, wrenched him with guilt and anger. He should not want a woman who might well be hunting his kind. But he did. Wanted her as he had never wanted another. Wanted her as a mate would want his intended—a fact that defied both her humanity and her loyalties. He could not mate with a human, certainly not the daughter of a Hunter.

Across the water, Jareth's eyes locked with Amber's, warning her there was no turning back—finding no resistance, only welcoming desire. A decision she would die regretting if she was betraying him. He yanked his shirt over his head, the rest of his clothes quickly following, aware of what she would see—the natural yellow and black tattoo covering the left side of his body, the same design as his skin when he was in his animal form. The design started at his shoulder and ran down his side, across his back, and down his leg. He stood there a moment on display, aroused, cock jutting in front of him, and let her inspect the man and beast, as he watched for fear or the disgust of a Hunter for Yaguara.

But the heavy-lidded look she cast him showed neither of these things—there was only lusty appreciation. “The tattoos are beautiful,” she said, her voice gravelly, laden with desire. Her gaze dropped to his protruding erection, lingering as her pretty pink tongue stroked her bottom lip, and then her eyes slowly returned to his. “
You're
beautiful.”

He inhaled, containing the lust that threatened his control, the predator in him analyzing his prey, assessing her with his feline senses. She knew what he was—he sensed that in her. Knew, but she did not care. In fact, his animal side aroused her; he could smell her desire, her nervous excitement. Perhaps fucking her prey got her off. A practiced way of hiding what she was, what she really wanted. The thought pulsed through him with an anger that sent him into action. Wading into the warm, sun-stroked water, Jareth stayed to his left, using the underwater rocky cliff he knew all too well. He'd endured a bloody past in the place—Indians his people had befriended, and the explorers who'd slaughtered them for the secrets of Yaguara. Exactly why this place was guarded by purebred jaguars, not shifters, the history far too rich to risk discovery. It was why Yaguara lived under the guise of being human, inside the human world. And why only well-trained Sentinels, like himself, spilled blood. But would he spill Amber's? That was the question.

He reached her side, inhaled the wicked scent of her arousal. Pressed his hands on the rocks when he really wanted them on her body. But he also intended to establish who was in control. “Come here, Amber.”

Unmoving, she blinked at him through a dark veil of thick lashes, shyness in her expression, hesitation charging the air. His seductress had gone soft and timid.

He arched a brow. Inhaled. “You're scared,” he accused, not giving her time to confirm or deny the words. She didn't have to. He could smell the fear in the air. Jareth reached for her, gently, but forcefully, pulling her to the edge of the rock. He spread her legs, stepped between them, but not before his gaze devoured the sweet curves of her body, the plump nipples, the flawless, sun-bronzed skin. His fingers slid into her damn hair. “You said you weren't afraid.”

She bit her bottom lip, shivered as his hand traveled up her bare thigh. “I'm not afraid.” Her voice was raspy, affected.

He leaned in, inhaled again. “Yes. You are.” But she was also aroused. His nostrils flared with the sweet scent of honey-ripened female, his cock thickening. The game of give-and-take had begun: he'd give pleasure and then take it away until she, in turn,
gave him
what he wanted—her submission. “Why is that, I wonder?”

She pressed her hand to the center of his chest, seared him with the heat of the connection, as she fixed him in a piercing green stare. “Nervous. Not scared. You got a problem with that?”

Surprised, amused, Jareth's lips twitched and so did his cock. Damn how he wanted this woman. “Yes,” he said, brushing his lips over hers. “As a matter of fact, I do. They'll be no nerves allowed.” He trailed kisses over her jaw, covered her breasts with his hands and then gently teased the nipples. Whispered near her ear. “Only pleasure. I'm going to kiss you all over. Taste you here.” He kissed her lips, his hands sliding into the sleek V of her body and stroking her swollen little clit. “And here.” He kissed her again. Slipped his fingers along the sensitive folds of her core. “Already you're wet for me, and I've barely gotten started.” He ran his tongue along her lips. Slid his finger inside her and she moaned. He swallowed the sexy little sound and then said, “I bet you taste as sweet as you look.”

He pumped his fingers inside her, slid a hand around her lush little ass and arched her into the action of his hand. She was dripping wet, rocking against the caress of his fingers. Moaning into his mouth. Kissing him with desperation that said she'd forgotten all about nerves, that it was pleasure she wanted—and satisfaction. Which he wasn't going to give her, not yet—perhaps not ever. But he'd damn sure take her to the edge—tease her with release—tease her until she begged.

He denied her his fingers. “No yet,” he ordered. “No orgasm until I say you have an orgasm.”

She panted, pulled back. “You are so unfair.”

“I never promised to be fair,” he told her, covering her breasts and rolling her nipples, tugging, pinching. She pressed her lips to his, kissed him—hungry-wild kissed him. Clung to him as she arched her hips toward his. Tempting him. It would be so damn easy to pull her off that rock and bury himself inside her. And damn he wanted to. Wanted to bury himself to the hilt and fuck her until she could take no more.

She moaned into his mouth, the sound pouring through him, she was like a fine wine, a rich flavor that drugged and enticed, then burned past that sweetness straight to his soul. Her hands traveled his midsection, her touch gentle, seductive, driving him wild.

He told himself he was in control, but when her lips settled over the tats on his shoulder, caressing him with gentle whisper-like kisses, seductive, alluring, he forgot his purpose for a few moments. His body tensed viciously, muscles clenching with the intensity of his reaction. Damn it, he could not afford to lose control. He grabbed her wrists, held them in front of her with one of his hands.