His mouth opened, and she met his kiss boldly, going up on her toes as she clung to his shoulders. He leaned in, pinning her against the vehicle. Her br**sts rubbed against his hard chest, becoming suddenly sensitive. The temperature outside had to be below zero, but her body burned with need.

Inhaling a ragged breath, she slid her hands up to his neck, and when she scraped her nails over his skin, he let out a throaty, encouraging growl. His kiss became urgent, possessive. His tongue slipped inside her mouth to meet hers in a fierce, wet tangle.

She’d imagined him to be a playful lover, but right now, she could also picture him being raw and rough, the kind of man who lost all pretense of civility and higher thought as he tore clothes, popped buttons, and f**ked his woman against a tree or into the ground.

Yes. She’d been that kind of woman once. Adventurous and intense. Hard-edged and a risk-taker. Something about Reseph made her body remember. Made it crave. Made it feel like it had been deprived of food and was starving.

She arched into him, and he hissed as her h*ps rolled against the ridge of his erection at the fly of his jeans. No underwear. He didn’t wear underwear.

“You are so damned beautiful,” he murmured against her lips. “I didn’t come here for this, but with every step closer to your house, I imagined kissing you again.”

She moaned as he dragged his lips along her jaw to her ear. His hot breath was a caress, his teeth instruments of pleasure as he nipped her earlobe.

“Yes,” she breathed, not caring if she sounded desperately horny. She hadn’t been with a man in more than a year, and Reseph was like no man she had ever been with.

Thinking this was crazy, she slid one hand down his throat, to his chest, intent on going lower… when she realized he’d gone deadly still. So still he didn’t even seem to be breathing.

“Reseph?”

“Shh,” he whispered into her ear. “Where’s your rifle?”

She blinked, her lust-soaked brain not understanding the question. “What?”

“Your rifle. Where is it?”

“In the barn. Why?”

“I want you to get inside the house.” His voice was calm, quiet, and so cold it chilled her to her marrow. “Right now. Something is watching us.”

Seven

A sense of pure evil vibrated inside Reseph like a tuning fork. Something was out there, lurking in the woods, and it wanted to kill.

Very slowly, he pulled back from Jillian. He expected to see fear, and yeah, that was there in her eyes, but he didn’t expect the fierce determination on her face.

“I’m going with you.”

“I won’t argue this with you, Jillian. Go in the house.”

Her smile was sweet as she bent over and picked up the bag of clothes. “Fine.”

She’d capitulated way too easily, and male instinct told him to be wary of that, but for now, she’d agreed and that was all that mattered. He eased them slowly toward the front door, and when they were a dozen feet away, he sent her inside as he walked, nonchalantly, to the barn.

He snared the rifle off the wall where it hung and by the light of the full moon, he jogged toward the trees in the direction he’d sensed the feeling of eyes on them. The sinister vibration was gone, but the air was still, the forest too quiet, as if nature was cowering in fear.

Reseph’s adrenaline surged as he crept through the snow, between trees, sticking to the shadows thrown by the moon’s silvery glow. On his arm, the horse tattoo tickled, as if it were moving beneath his shirt. He ignored it and pressed on.

Ahead, something dark was splashed on the snow, destroying the pristine white landscape. The coppery stench of blood was strong, but it wasn’t human.

It’s disturbing as shit that you know it’s not human blood.

He tamped down his inner voice and made a mental note to not revisit the fact that he could identify human blood by the scent.

Crouching, he crept closer. The scene was saturated with evil, and tracks tore up the snow… a battle had taken place here. It must have happened before he’d arrived though, or they would have heard it.

He studied the tracks. One set had been made by a big cat, a cougar most likely. The other… Jesus, what had made those? The prints were the size of a large human male’s feet, but the four toes were three times as long—and clawed. Whatever it was, it had won the battle and had either eaten the cougar or taken it somewhere. The cat tracks led to the site, but they didn’t leave.

Behind him, a twig snapped. He pivoted, rifle trained in the direction of the sound. He saw Jillian before she saw him. She carried a pistol, and dammit, that was why she’d capitulated so easily. She’d gone into the house to get another weapon.

He was both irritated and turned on by her bravery… he’d always liked tough chicks. At least, he thought he had.

But she didn’t need to see this. She was already battling some kind of trauma, and until he knew what it was, he wasn’t going to add to her worries. Quickly, he trampled over the freaky tracks and met her when she was about a dozen yards away.

“I told you to stay in the house.”

Her steady gaze met his. “Well, that’s the thing. It’s my house, and no one tells me to do anything on my own property. If you’re going to stay here, get that through your head. ’Kay?”

“Feisty.” He shot her a wink. “I like it.”

She rolled her eyes and then started toward the grisly scene. “What is it?”

“Looks like a cougar got a deer,” he said, moving to intercept. “It’s gone. Let’s head back to the house.”

She frowned, and he didn’t like her troubled expression. She was too decent to be worried about anything. “There have been a lot of cougar attacks lately.”

“On what? Deer? Livestock?”

“People.” She holstered her pistol like a pro. “It’s strange.”

“That is so hot.”

“What?” Her head jerked back as if she’d been slapped. “Cougars eating people is hot?”

“No.” He grinned. “You. Handling a weapon like that. It’s sexy as hell. Hot chicks with guns is, like, fantasy material.”

“You,” she said sternly, “are a very odd man.”

“I’m also a very hungry man,” he said, more to distract her than because his stomach was growling. “You got food?”

“Come on,” she muttered. “I’ll feed you.”

She started back toward her house, and he followed on her heels, keeping an eye out for anything that might decide she looked as tasty as he thought she did. But as they caught sight of the house, he couldn’t resist grabbing a fistful of snow and hurling a snowball at her. It broke apart on her back, showering her in white stuff.

“You’re going to pay for that.” Her voice was a singsongy warning that egged him on, and he threw another, this one exploding off her shoulder. “I was a softball pitcher in high school, buddy. Back off.”

Right. Now she was just asking for it. He bent to grab another handful of snow, and son of a bitch, she nailed him in the head with a clump the size of his fist. Chunks of snow went down his shirt, and even as he stood to hurl a snowball at her, another smashed into his neck.

“You little—” He broke off to duck at another one she sent hurling at him, catching him in the arm. And then she was off, darting toward the house, her laughter carrying like a bell in the clear night air.

He gave chase, gaining ground easily. She might have great aim, but he was faster, and when he put on a burst of speed, he caught her in a matter of heartbeats. Tossing the rifle carefully aside, he tackled her, twisting so she came down on top of him. He cut off her squeal of delighted outrage with a kiss. For a second she struggled playfully, thumping her fists lightly against his chest, but he rolled her over, using his weight to control her and his mouth to seduce her.

With a sigh, she relaxed, winding her arms around him and shifting so he was between her legs. They couldn’t stay like this for long in the cold snow, but he wanted to have this, if only for a minute. She tasted like a lemon-lime soda and smelled like the outdoors, like a clean mountain spring. She was magnificent, and he wanted to drink her in, wrap himself around her and stay that way forever.

“Let’s go inside,” he said against her silky lips. “I’d much rather be doing this in front of the fire.”

Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight. “I don’t know how ready I am for anything more than this,” she whispered. “I don’t know you… and it’s been a long time.”

He was ready. He was so ready his balls felt like they might blow all on their own. But he wouldn’t push. Jillian was far too important to him already to do anything that might make her uncomfortable. He could go slow. Couldn’t he? He frowned, because the whole going slow thing felt really, really alien.

“You call the shots.” He shoved to his feet and held out a hand to her. “Food?”

She took his hand and allowed him to lift her to her feet. “You have a one-track mind.”

“Nah. Two tracks.” He winked. “I’ll let you guess what the other is.” He bent to pick up the rifle he’d tossed—and the next thing he knew, she’d shoved a handful of snow down the back of his jeans.

“That,” she said smartly, “will cool down that other track.”

Jillian was so glad Reseph was back. She had no idea how a man she hadn’t known for long could so easily thread his way into the fabric of her life and make her feel so comfortable around him, but Reseph had done it.

And he didn’t just make her feel comfortable… he made her feel safe. The way he’d moved through the forest, the way he’d handled himself at the scene of the cougar-deer attack, it all spoke of confidence and familiarity. She’d been spot-on when she’d first thought of him as a warrior. Maybe he’d been in the military?

Then he’d gone from dangerous and intense to playful and mischievous in a matter of seconds, but even when he’d tackled her, he’d been careful, taking the brunt of the fall, rolling her gently to settle his weight against her with the greatest of care.