Wildfire (23 page)

His dark hair spilled over the large bandage on his
forehead. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him. She remembered her
tail smacking into Jack, lifting him up and flinging him, the sickening thud of
his landing, then the dark spill of blood. Lynn bit back the whimper
threatening to emerge. Unable to sit still any longer, she shut her book and
rose from the chair. Wincing at the ache in her back, she tiptoed closer to
him.

Her gaze traced the lines of his face, taking in the thick,
dark brows, the square, strong jaw. She swallowed. God, he was delicious. And
she was dangerous. She’d hurt him.

Lynn turned away and returned to her book and chair. Both
looked about as inviting as a trip to the dentist. She bit her lower lip and
glanced at the bed again, at the man who lay tangled in chocolate sheets and
sky blue quilt. A liquid warmth spread inside her, rushed her senses.

Trembling, she lowered herself into the chair. A twinge of
protest ran through her muscles in anticipation of her cramped position. She
shot out of the chair. “Stop being an idiot,” she muttered. The bed was big
enough and Jack lay on the far left side of it. She could easily sleep on the
other side without disturbing him. “We are both responsible adults here.” She
ran a hand over the soft cotton sheets. “Tired, worn out adults.”

Giving into her tiredness, she sank onto the soft mattress.

Lynn woke to darkness and the feel of a warm, hard masculine
body spooned against her back. Heavy, muscled arms wrapped around her. A large
hand cupped her right breast. She stiffened. She needed to get out of bed and
away from him. But Jack’s heady scent, spicy and male, intoxicated her, lulling
her into lying quietly in his secure arms.

He stirred, pressing his stiff erection against her behind,
squeezing and massaging her breast gently. Thank God for her t-shirt. The thin
cotton was a flimsy barrier, but at least it was
there
between her skin and his. Her mind screamed danger,
but she found herself pushing her traitorous ass against him, responding
to the slow rhythm of his hands.

A soft groan escaped him. His breathing increased as she
continued to grind herself against him. His hands slipped under her t-shirt.
Lynn shivered at the friction of his calloused palms against her peaked
nipples. Warm breath and a brush of lips against her neck had her arching back.
The graze of teeth on skin set her on fire.

Half-swallowing a moan, Lynn twisted and turned in his arms
to lie face to face with him. “Jack?” she whispered on a breath.

He fisted his fingers in her hair and tugged her head back.
Then Jack’s mouth covered hers. His body pressed against her. Hot need
boomeranged between them, back and forth.

The kiss was warm and urgent. Lynn’s body melted and molded
to his. She kissed him back hungrily. She wasn’t aware of anything but the
surge of hot, searing pleasure rushing through her. Once again dragon and woman
met in rare agreement— this man felt right.

Fiery desire razed her. She wanted more. Her hands roamed
across his warm skin, exploring every dip and curve, slid lower. He shuddered
beneath her palms. Lynn stopped when the top of his boxers met her fingers,
hesitated. Sanity spoke up, told her to stop. This would be a mistake.

His lips traced their way down her neck, opened wide and
latched on. Teeth and tongue nipped and sucked at her skin. Lynn cried out,
spasmed, wrapped her fingers around his erection. He groaned and shoved himself
more fully into her hand. His mouth reclaimed hers.

Her fingers fumbled, found the opening, slipped inside. Her
hand grasped his hard, hot sex, slid over smooth satin skin.

Suddenly the kiss became gentler. His tongue, which had been
tangling with hers, circled lazily. His fingers let go of her hair. She let go
of him, pulled back her hand. When his lips slipped from hers, she wanted to
cry.

“This isn’t a dream is it?” His voice, thick and heavy with
lust, lay between them in the dark.

Lynn couldn’t answer.

He reached over and across her and switched on the lamp on
the bedside table. Lynn crunched her eyes shut against the flood of brightness,
then slowly opened them. Jack stared at her with soft, sleepy eyes and mussed
up hair.

Kiss me
. She reached out to touch his face.

Kiss me
. A soft feminine whisper, full of need,
rolled around Jack’s mind. He skittered away from Lynn fast, landing with a
thump on the floor. “Get out of my head.”

They stared at each other.

He looked down at his bare chest. Who’d undressed him?
Slowly he raised his gaze to meet inscrutable dark eyes.

Lynn sat on the bed tugging her t-shirt into place. A simple
white t-shirt that clung to all the right places and set off her tanned skin
perfectly. A t-shirt that she didn’t wear much under as he’d discovered. His
cock stirred at the thought and warmth spread across his face. Thank God he
still had his underwear.

Wait a freaking minute. This was the woman who’d turned into
Godzilla. He took a deep breath. Okay, maybe not Godzilla. Something smaller
and prettier, but still scary with sharp teeth and fiery breath.

“Jack, what is it?” Lynn’s brows puckered as she tilted her
head to one side. “You’re making strange faces.”

“What are you doing here?” Waiting to eat him. That would be
an effective way to keep her secret. His gaze darted around the room. The chair.
She lay between it and him. The lamp? Somehow he didn’t think a lamp would faze
the beast. Why the hell didn’t he stash a fire extinguisher in his bedroom?
God, he sounded loony toons.

She sat still, her gaze wary. “You have a concussion and the
doctor wanted someone to wake you every two hours. Jen and I are taking turns.”
She scooted toward the edge of the bed.

Jack scrambled back and up. Concussion…maybe that explained
his crazy thoughts. “Uh, gotta go.” Clutching the sheets to himself, he dashed
to the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

Chapter
23

Ironically, he’d thought about their conversation at
Tavistock’s ranch and reached the conclusion that he needed to talk to Lynn,
figure out what she meant by “I heard you.”

Jack stumbled to the sink, wrenched open the faucet and
splashed some water on his face. The icy cold water on his skin, made him gasp,
cleared his thoughts a bit. Pull your shit together. He grabbed a towel and
buried his face in its softness. He’d decided she was important to him and he couldn’t
let her go without a fight. Of course, as soon Jen had told him that Lynn was
out with Henry, he’d gone all primal and rushed off to stake his claim.

Instead, he’d found her struggling with Henry and a rage —more
fierce and hot than anything he’d ever felt— had shook him to his soul. Jack
took a deep breath and ignored the whisper of heat his recollection called up
from deep within.
Focus.
He’d pulled Lynn out from the asshole’s truck. Then
turned to deal with Henry.

Jack rubbed his sore jaw. Henry had turned out to be quite a
little fighter. And then there was this monster. He’d looked around for Lynn.
But there was just this thing, breathing fire, watching him through cold
reptilian eyes. He shook his head, before stopping as the pain gonged through
his head. Had he already had the concussion and imagined the beast? He touched
his sore ribs and winced. The injury was real. But how had he been hurt?

He stared at the bathroom door. The person on the other side
probably had some answers. All his muscles bunched up and tightened. Every time
he thought of her, the image of the beast came crashing through his mind.
Impossible. People couldn’t change into beasts. Could they? Jack raked a hand
through his hair, groaned when his fingers brushed a sore spot.

After a couple of calming breaths, he snagged his robe
hanging behind the bathroom door and pulled it on. Ridiculous as it was, that
single layer of cotton made him feel less vulnerable. He tightened the belt. There
had to be a rational explanation, and he meant to get it.

Jack sauntered out of the bathroom and made a beeline for
his closet, giving Lynn a wide berth. Had he really heard her whisper in his
head? Kiss me. He focused on the floor, on putting one foot ahead of another.
If he could avoid looking at her, he’d be able to
think straight. He threw the doors open and searched through his shirts.

“Do you want me to leave?” Her voice, low and throaty,
whispered over his skin. He barely suppressed a telltale shiver.

“No.” He fingered a cotton blue and white striped shirt. “We
need to talk.”

“About?”

Clutching a gray sweatshirt, a white t-shirt and jeans, he
turned to face her. She lounged in the bed, supported by a bank of pillows, and
watched him. In his bed. Memory of skin sliding over skin threatened to
overwhelm him. He swallowed. “About what happened.”

“You mean the kiss?” She folded her arms across her chest
and raised her chin.

“Ah, no.” His mouth tingled. He touched his lips, then
dropped his hand as if burned. Maybe the sweatshirt would be too warm. Did he
need to open a window?

Lynn swung her legs off the bed and walked to the door.
Damn, the woman had a nice ass. She turned and leaned against the door jamb.
Her eyes, dark and cold as winter nights, stared from an impassive face. “Oh,
you mean my turning dragon.”

The clothes dropped from his hands as a strangled laugh
pushed from this throat. “Dragon?”
No one can turn into a dragon.

“I did.” The quiet conviction in her voice stunned him.

He blinked. Had she heard his thoughts? Jack bought himself
some time by gathering up the clothes. “That’s not possible.”

“People used to think it wasn’t possible to sail around the
world either.”

He rubbed his jaw, the rough scratch of stubble on skin
helped anchor him to reality. “That’s different,” he said. “People just didn’t
know enough of the world.”

“There’s still a lot people don’t know about the world.”

Jack studied her, taking in the dark circles under her eyes,
the bleak expression on her face, and the stubborn-set of her chin. “Is this
some kind of a weird joke?”

“I’m not joking,” Lynn said. “Trust me.”

Okay, she was crazy. Or he was. One of them was crazy and
delusional. “Give me a reason to.”

“You’re in your house, alive and in one piece.”

Reason warred with his fear as images of the beast filled
his mind. Standing in the doorway, she’d effectively cut off his escape. Her
words sat heavy and true between them. If —that was a big if— she could really
turn dragon, she could also have killed him at any point between his losing
conscience at Jim’s and waking at the hospital. Presumably, it was Lynn who’d
got him to the doctors. He owed her.

His mind whispered:
Predator
. Goose bumps danced
across his skin, but he forced himself to stand still. “Fine. I’m listening.”

She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder. “Would you
feel better if I called Jen to be part of this conversation?”

He did
not
need someone to hold his hand. “No thanks.
This is between you and me.”

“Okay, watch me.” She took a deep breath and closed her
eyes.

The air shimmered and boiled around Lynn, thickening, almost
becoming tangible. Energy snapped and crackled, filling the room with soft,
whispered noises. The temperature grew warm, warmer, hot. He swiped sweat off
his brow.

Iridescent blue green scales rippled across her skin and
encased her like some new-fangled armor. Her fingers shot out curved claws,
dark and deadly, like the razor-sharp beaks of birds of prey. Holy Shit! Jack
bit down hard on his tongue to kill the scream building inside, to make sure he
was awake. Pain flashed along his nerves then disappeared. She stood there
still, alien and frightening.

Her body pushed to stretch, as if struggling to escape its
prison of skin and bones. The writhing and contortions looked painful. His
throat snapped closed and he struggled to breathe. His brain yelled run, but
his legs refused to move. He stared at her, demanding answers without words.

The t-shirt tightened across her body, seams popped. Lynn’s
eyes flew open and she stared at him through glowing, cat-like eyes. She
breathed in short, heavy spurts. “Like whaat you seeeessss?”

The tortured, hissing words rasped across him like
sandpaper, awakening him to an unreal reality. With a half-strangled shout, he
stumbled back into the closet. No escape. His hands searched for something,
anything, to use as a weapon.

“I guessss notssss.” She closed her eyes again.

Should he barrel past her? He’d played football once and he
knew how to sprint and body slam someone. The chances of him pulling it off
were pretty good. His gaze flew to those scythe-like claws. Or maybe not.

Suddenly the claws retracted and disappeared into human
fingers. As he watched, Lynn grew smaller and returned to her familiar height
and shape. The scales receded like waves rushing from a beach, leaving behind
only golden, unmarred skin.

“Fuck.” Breath, he hadn’t realized he’d been holding,
whooshed out of him. This time when her eyes opened they were the familiar
black, but no more comforting. Jack glanced away from their cold, dark depths.

She took a tentative step forward, and he backed further
into the unyielding hardness of the closet. Almost climbed onto the shelf.

“I’m not going to harm you.” Her voice sounded quiet and
normal.

How could she change so fast? How could she change at all? What
was she? None of this made sense.

She took another step forward.

“Stop, stop right there!”

“I won’t harm you.” Her voice cool, empty, cracked at the
end. It was that bit of dissonance, of vulnerability, that finally seeped into
his conscience.

“I know, but you’re damn scary.”

Lynn looked away and stared at the wall. She wrapped her
arms around herself.

He’d hurt her feelings. Could a monster even have feelings? A
real monster, not the Disney version. He shook his head. “Okay, a part of me
knows you won’t eat me, but the rest of me is just reacting without thinking.”

“Yeah, your body seems to do that around me.”

An image of her in his arms formed, then erupted into a
monster, all spewing flames and snapping teeth. He almost made a break for it,
but crossed his arms and forced himself to stand his ground. “Look this is some
crazy shit and I’m trying to deal with it the best I can.” His face warmed as a
heaviness settled inside him. “We need to talk about everything.”

Oh God, I’ve been lusting after a beast.

She flinched as if struck, then straightened her back and
faced him. “Yeah, I guess we do,” she said. “The kiss was nice, but I don’t
have time for such distractions. I’m here on serious business.”

Shameful relief spread through him at her words. He just
couldn’t imagine being with her, now that he knew what she was.
Beast
. A
shiver trembled through him. No, don’t go there. “What business?”

“Figuring out who’s been lighting fires all over Paradise
Valley.”

Adrenaline spike through his veins. He leaned toward her. “Do
you know who it is?”

She shrugged. “I have an idea.”

Curiosity overrode caution, he strode within inches of her.
“Tell me.” He’d make the bastard pay.

“Why?”

“I want to help you get him.” He bunched his fingers into
fists. “He’s wrecked havoc with people’s lives and I want him punished.”

“What makes you think the arsonist isn’t a she?”

The thought hadn’t occurred to him, but it was possible. Apparently
anything was possible. “Whatever.” He licked his lips. “I want to help bring
this person down.”

She unfolded herself from against the door jamb and stuffed
her hands in her jean’s pockets. “Then stay out of my way.”

Jack gaped as she pivoted and sauntered down the corridor.
He followed at a safe distance. “This is my town, my people, I’m not going to
be ordered around by a —beast— a stranger.”

She stopped in front of the opening leading to the kitchen
and looked back. “Oh, sorry to break it to you, but you are part beast too.”
She smiled. “Have fun researching the family tree.”

With that she turned the corner and disappeared from his
view. A tremble quaked through him at her words. Jack swayed and teetered, then
his legs buckled.