Night Sins (7 page)

T
he thrill of discovery danced along Amber Green’s nerve endings and sent a rush of anticipation through her veins, pressing her to work past the last scorching burn of the Nevada sun before it slid behind the nearby mountain peaks, a part of the Grand Canyon gateway. A hum of silent energy radiated among the thirty-plus men and women in her excavation crew, all hurriedly clearing dust from a portion of the mile-long wall etched with ancient Mayan drawings. She could feel the same certainty and nervous energy in them that she felt. This was it. What they’d been looking for. What she’d sought in her father’s place since he’d been brutally murdered by thieves a year before at a Mexico dig site. Exactly why she’d left a three-year tenure at a Houston museum and wrangled his research grant, with his detailed journals as her guide. She was not only going to find proof that the fabled Yaguara, a shape-shifting race of jaguars, truly existed. If her father was right, she would also find evidence left by the shaman who’d created Yaguara; he had fled Mexico and hidden the secrets to Yaguara’s creation, and the way to its destruction, inside this cavern. And Amber yearned for that discovery more than she did her next breath. To honor her father.

Abruptly, all that anticipation curling inside Amber jackknifed, as a not-so-distant female scream pierced the air, the fear in its depths twisting a knot in Amber’s stomach. Three nights of no sleep, of an unexplainable sense of being hunted, stalked even, rushed back over her, pushed aside before now with the new day’s discovery. Tossing aside the brush in her hand, Amber grabbed the tranquilizer rifle leaning against the wall, and started to run toward the scream, but as quickly as she’d launched into action, she froze as she brought an unexpected, unbelievable source of danger into view.

“Jaguars,” she whispered, blinking with the impossibility of what was before her. Nevertheless, the correlation between their presence and the fact that she was seeking Yaguara was not lost on her. There hadn’t been a jaguar sighting in Northern America in more than twenty years, and yet they were as real as she was—the piercing golden eyes of the beasts lethally fixed on their new human prey. Another shiver chased a path down Amber’s spine with the realization that their research team had, indeed, become just that—prey.

Thankfully, Amber’s research partner, Mike Richards, along with several male crew members, were already pointing weapons at the intruders, forming a human barrier to protect the east perimeter of their camp. For several seconds Amber could do nothing but stand there in stunned disbelief at the sight of the big cats.

Her mind reeled, adrenaline in overdrive; her chest heaved with a hard-earned breath. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought she’d be within a few feet of even one of these sleekly muscled beasts, let alone, from her best count, a good half dozen of them—unrestrained predators, all well over two-hundred pounds and ready to attack.

The name “Yaguara” played in her head, its meaning—the beast that kills its prey in one bound—tightening her grip on her weapon, her finger hovering over the trigger. In the blink of an eye, any one of those jaguars could attack and kill before a tranq could pierce its beautifully tattooed skin.

“Amber, damn it,” Mike vehemently muttered from her left. Tall and fit, with blond hair fading into grey, he’d been her father’s best friend, and he was quick to play protector. “You should have stayed back.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Amber whispered, her rifle weighing heavily in her arms but not as heavily as the fierceness of one of the jaguar stares fixed directly on her. “These people are my responsibility.”

“Which is why you travel with experienced hunters,” he ground out. “To protect them. Let us do our jobs.”

“Right now really isn’t the time to debate this.” She breathed in a low ball of tight air. Not when that cat was fixated on her, and she could see the intent deep in the yellow of its eyes—it was going to attack and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do but hold her finger on the trigger and pray for a miracle.

Tension-laden seconds ticked by. Sweat trickled down her temple, a light breeze lifting strands of her auburn hair that had fallen from the clasp at her neck—the calm before the storm.

The closest beast lunged forward, and everything spun wildly out of control. Someone grabbed the gun from her hand a moment before she was thrust behind a big, muscular body, her weapon stripped from her grip. She stumbled and fell backwards, catching herself on her palms with a hard jolt to her arms. Instinct sent her scrambling backwards on her hands, certain that the jaguar would be on top of her at any minute.

But the jaguar didn’t attack. It was retreating, as were the other cats, warily backing away, their attention fixed on one thing—the powerful man who’d made a powerful entrance and now stood where Amber had been seconds before. It was as if the many guns pointed at the cats weren’t a threat—but this newcomer was.

“Jareth,” Amber whispered his name.

A reclusive novelist, and the only resident for thirty miles, he’d come around often in the month they’d been there in the canyon, always focusing his attention on Amber. The relationship had started out simmering with awareness and turned to damn near animal attraction. A little detail that frustrated the hell out of her because, once they’d done the niceties, the talks about his books and her research, he’d always pressed her to leave the canyon, always warned that the area was notorious for wild animal attacks. A warning that might have meant more if he had not remained here himself, calling this place home, especially since they’d found not one stitch of evidence to support his claim. With irritation, she’d assumed he’d been protecting his privacy. Yet still, she had wanted him, damn him. And now the truth of his words was here, breathing down their throats, ready to attack.

“Oh, thank God, you’re safe,” said Evelyn Richards, Mike’s wife, appearing by her side and squatting down. “I was so scared for you.”

“I’m okay,” Amber said, mesmerized by the display of raw, male strength Jareth made as he held the rifle in ready position, biceps flexed beneath the sleeves of a snug black T-shirt. He was tall, the defined muscles of his lower body hugged by soft, faded denim and without one ounce of obvious body fat. Just pure, male power. He was a gorgeous piece of man, no doubt about it, but right now, it wasn’t his beauty that demanded everyone’s attention, but rather, the lethal quality radiating off him.

“I can’t believe they’re leaving,” Evelyn said softly, her eyes wide at the sight of the jaguars’ slow departure.

Because of Jareth
, Amber added silently, not willing to voice that opinion for reasons that bordered on protectiveness. More like guilt for misjudging him and dismissing his warning, because the notion that Jareth needed protection was a ridiculous one. As often before, she was struck by how he melded with the wilderness, a primal quality about him that reached behind the male sensuality he wore like a second skin. Behind that reserved demeanor of his, there’d been a lethal quality, evident now. She had no doubt those cats sensed it too, as they disappeared into the woods. Suspicion rose in her about his ability to cause such a thing, but Amber quickly squashed it. The man had just saved her life. He didn’t deserve suspicion.

Jareth’s broad shoulders relaxed into a straight line a second before he turned away from the woods, his straight dark hair framing determined features, a hard set to his square jaw. Penetrating teal eyes met hers; confidence radiated off of him that said this was over. The other men, Mike included, were far from ready to declare the threat gone. They held their weapons on target, ready for another attack.

Jareth kneeled by Amber’s side, at ease enough to settle the gun on the ground. One muscular forearm rested on his knee, his shoulder brushing her arm, and that chillingly direct stare of his holding hers. She felt that connection clear to her toes, too. A rush of heat slid through her limbs that had nothing to do with the fading sun, and everything to do with this man. There was something about the way he looked at her that stripped away everything but the raw, needy female, and made the fear of moments before fade into the erotic charge between them.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, his whisky rough voice tingling a path along her nerve endings. A wayward strand of that straight, raven hair of his fell across his brow, begging for her fingers, which she curled into the dirt behind her so they wouldn’t get a mind of their own.

“Hurt me?” she questioned, her voice gravelly, affected. She was never gravelly and affected. She told herself it was about the big cat that had almost attacked her, not the man she wanted to attack herself. In bed. Or wherever she could have him. “I’m pretty sure you just saved my life.”

“You saved her from that cat,” Evelyn interjected, her dark brown hair falling from the clasp at her neck. Nearing fifty, and barely over five foot tall, she packed more spunk than most women half her age. “I’m so very thankful.” Her words were etched with motherly concern. Amber’s real mother had died in childbirth, and considering that Evelyn had been around Amber’s entire life, she’d certainly played the maternal role on occasion. Evelyn wrapped an arm around Amber and hugged her. “I was sure she was dead.”

“I would never have allowed her to be hurt,” Jareth said softly, his voice tingling along her spine with unnerving precision and hitting every hotspot on her body. Her nipples ached, and she squeezed her legs together against the thrum of sensation. It was ridiculous what Jareth did to her so easily. But then, she had been fantasizing about the man since she’d first set eyes on him a month before. Most likely, every woman, and maybe a few men, who met him did the same.

He offered her his hand. She stared at it, her heart fluttering almost as wildly as it had when she’d faced that jaguar. As silly as it might seem, she felt that touching him might change her in some way. His brow arched in challenge at her hesitation, amusement flickering in the fiery depths of his eyes.

“You knew they were here,” Mike accused, his sudden appearance at her side offering Amber an escape. She pushed to her feet on her own, silently refusing Jareth’s hand, as Mike’s rant continued. “You knew and you said nothing.”

A hint of irritation flashed across Jareth’s rugged features before he cut a sharp look at Mike, his voice steady, calm. “I told you what you needed to know. It’s dangerous. Leave before it’s too late. You ignored the warning.”

Mike was fuming, as if Jareth had put them in danger instead of having saved their backsides. “A vague warning from a stranger isn’t enough. You should have specifically stated there are jaguars here.”

“Those cats are endangered, which in my book makes them far more valuable than your dust and rocks. They deserve to be left alone.”

“Yet you live here,” Mike countered.

“I am one man,” he said. “You are an army of intruders on their home terrain.” His gaze cut to Amber. “Take your people and get out before someone gets hurt.”

Amber opened her mouth to speak, but Mike was too quick for her. “Is that a threat?” Mike demanded.

Jareth cut him a look. “What else would you call what just happened?”

Mike tilted his head, his teeth grinding together. “I’m trying to figure out why they left when you arrived,” he speculated.

“You got lucky,” Jareth said sharply, the air crackling with instant, undeniable tension. He reached down and snagged the rifle from the ground and tossed it to Mike, forcing him to catch it. “Think about it as you pack up and leave.”

Jareth turned and started walking away, finality in the action. He was done. With the conversation. With them. He’d made that clear.

But Amber wasn’t done with him. Instinct sent Amber in pursuit. Jareth was a part of this place in ways no one else here was. If anyone could help her find the answers she sought, he could.

“Stay here, Amber,” Mike called behind her, but she didn’t stop. Jareth was fast departing, headed toward the steep mountain to their right that led to his cabin. “It’s dangerous! Damn it! Get back here!”

But it wasn’t dangerous. Not with Jareth nearby. She understood this on a level Mike would never comprehend. Heck, she barely did herself.

“Jareth!” she yelled as he reached the path leading up the mountain. He stopped, turned; he stared at her as she darted forward, with a head-to-toe inspection that made her thin black tee and cargo pants feel invisible.

Amber stopped in front of him, a bit breathless, and not from the run. From his nearness. “I’m sorry for Mike,” she said. “I know what you did for us back there.”

He arched a brow. “What did I do, Amber?” His voice seemed to rasp her nerve endings; his eyes, to brush them with a soothing velvety finish.

“You tell me,” she urged softly. “How did you make those cats retreat?”

He tilted his head, studied her with keen eyes, a predatory gleam in their depths. There was something different about him today, something far more animalistic than ever before. Something that made his piercing attention wash over her with the impact of a firestorm. She was hot, melting in place, her heart drumming in her ears.

Suddenly, she was in his arms, his fingers splayed intimately at her lower back, melding her against that long, hard body. She’d have been ashamed at how instantly wet she was, how downright achy to feel this man inside her, if not for the bulge of his cock pressed into her stomach—proof that Jareth had gone from zero to one hundred, in the same thirty seconds she had.

Finally, he broke the silence. “You want to know how I tamed the beasts, do you?” he challenged, his voice velvety thick with seduction. And Amber all but moaned as his breath, warm and wicked, caressed her cheek, a moment before he whispered, “Maybe I’m a beast myself.”

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.