Passions Recalled: Forbidden Passions, Book 2 (4 page)

Shifting to leopard form, he padded outside, leaving the door open behind him. He considered closing it, but dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. With the electricity out, the air conditioner didn’t work. Right now that wasn’t a problem, but the house would get unbearably hot and muggy very quickly once the rain died down. Plus he planned on staying near the house. Should she awaken or cry out while he was gone, he’d have a better chance of hearing her if the door was open. Decision made, he ran off into the surrounding brush.

There were jackhammers in her head. Even moaning hurt. Funny, she didn’t remember partying last night. She frowned, and it made the pain worse. Actually she didn’t remember last night at all. Rolling over, she pressed her forehead into the pillow and was immediately swamped by Jason’s smell.
Oh, God.
Where was she?

She couldn’t think past the pounding behind her eyes, but when the room shook with a crack of thunder she jerked her head up, wincing for her trouble. She hated storms. There was one window, and outside it a palm tree whipped back and forth.

Definitely not in Kansas anymore. Or Atlanta. Whatever.

Rolling back over, she took stock. Her head hurt like hell, but everything else seemed fine. Only one way to know for sure. Gingerly, she pushed up on her elbows, cursing the pounding headache that spread over her face with the strain. She sat up, gasping, and looked around the room. To call it bare was generous. It contained the bed and a dresser. The walls were empty. There was nothing to identify its owner but the scent of the sheets on which she lay.

But that didn’t make sense. She looked out the window again as another gust of wind buffeted the house. Rain tapped the roof, and she cocked her head, pressing her hand to the side that throbbed the most. The sound echoed loudly in the room, and her headache seemed to pick up the rhythm, pulsing in time to the rain. It was familiar. Tin would be her guess, and that at least helped her narrow down her location to probably somewhere in the South where in recent years tin roofs had become all the rage. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Not the Southwest, so not Jason’s home. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and set her feet firmly on the floor.

And why the hell was she wearing a bikini?

Only one way to find out, Celeste.

She had to venture out of the room, find out where she was and who else was here, if anyone. Her mind refused to accept it might be Jason, even if her body thrummed at the thought. She didn’t dare wish it was so. She squeezed her eyes shut. Jason was over. Jason was the past.

She stood and took a step toward the door, but froze when a black leopard appeared and blocked the space. Her eyes filled with tears.

The first time she’d seen Jason in leopard form, she’d been very confused. His brothers looked like typical leopards in their were forms, tawny and gold with black spots. Jason was dark, his coat black, his spots brown to cream colored. He’d explained that sometimes nature threw a genetic anomaly out there, in the leopard
and
wereleopard worlds. Melanistic leopards were often born in litters with regularly colored siblings, probably an evolutionary advantage for jungle ranging leopards. All of the big cat species had melanistic or black versions. The same held true for werecats. Black was not a common color to see, but not rare either.

Looking at him now, she remembered the pain of that conversation. His pain. She’d felt his loneliness and had wanted to soothe it. He’d identified himself as the outsider in his family, but she’d seen how much they loved him, how much they needed and respected him. Although, none of that had really mattered to her. She’d thought he was beautiful. She’d loved him beyond reason. She should have known better, she thought bitterly with the benefit of hindsight, but the observation didn’t make one damn bit of difference in her reaction.

He padded closer, stalking, and she clenched her fists. She would not reach out and bury her hands in that fur, would not give in to the tears threatening to fall. The big body pushed against her, his head butting and rubbing against her thigh in a show of affection, and she couldn’t help the sigh that escaped. He pushed her until the backs of her knees hit the bed and she sat, giving in to the temptation and sinking her hands in his pelt.

Soft. Silky. So, so dark and lit with light at the same time, like the mysteries of the midnight sky. And definitely Jason.

She was afraid to speak, afraid to shatter the spell. It was the best damned dream she’d had in over a year.

He moved closer, sat on his haunches and rested his front legs along her thighs. Then he licked her, a long swipe of his tongue up the side of her face, over her old scars. The raspy stroke woke memories. This tongue, this man. Months alone and lonely and heartbroken in a hospital bed. Yet she shuddered as her body responded to him, recalled the out of control feeling of being in his arms.

Memory shattered the dream.

Except it wasn’t a dream, was it? She pushed against the cat and scrambled back on the bed. Shifting, the man followed, crawling up her body and pinning her under his weight. A growl rumbled deep in his chest.

“No,” he ordered, refusing to allow her to retreat.

She tried to push him away, but he grabbed her wrists and held them next to her head, while forcing her thighs apart with his knees and settling between them. His erection pushed hard and throbbing against the juncture between her thighs. She grew slick, felt the swelling in her clit and saw by the way his nostrils flared he knew it too.

“So long,” he muttered, before his lips descended on hers.

God help her, she couldn’t resist. She opened her mouth to him, accepted the stroke of his tongue. His pelvis ground against hers in a matching rhythm, and she was positive the only thing keeping him from plunging into her was the thin fabric of the bikini. It wasn’t much of a barrier, and she wished he’d throw it away. She’d toss it herself if he ever let her wrists go.

The kiss was all too short as he broke the contact and trailed his lips along her jaw, down her neck, and finally closed over the old mark on her shoulder. He nipped it lightly and her back arched, her pussy flooding with cream as an intense orgasm froze her. God, she couldn’t respond to him like this, so quickly, after so many months absence. It was mortifying, and she strained against him. She needed a minute to collect herself, to attempt to build some kind of barrier around her heart. She feared she was too late. Maybe she’d never managed to do it in the first place.

He released her wrists, rolled onto his back and moved up the bed, pulling her across his chest with one arm around her waist. Somehow during the move he removed the bikini bottom. His cock insistently pressed against her center and with his eyes he begged for admittance, but he was leaving the choice to her. How could she resist? Her body had been dead for a year and now it screamed for the fulfillment only he could give her.

Refusing to acknowledge the niggling worry over where he’d been or where she was or even if it was real, she sat up on her knees and moved over his hips. She held her breath, closed her eyes and allowed the fantasy to take over as she took him inside her. Slow. So slowly. If this was a dream she didn’t want to ever wake up.

She felt his hands behind her neck, over her back. Shivered at the sensation of fabric sliding free of her skin. He was finally seated all the way inside her, when his hands closed over her breasts. Her entire system threatened to melt down.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

His thumbs flicked over her nipples. She opened her eyes in time to see his nostrils flare, to see him lean forward and flick his tongue over one hard point. He sucked it into his mouth, bit down. It was just this side of painful, and she grew wetter, felt her body rushing to accept him. She shuddered, then groaned. Didn’t even fight the orgasm she felt rising from the very center of her, the heart and soul. Nothing had ever equaled being possessed by Jason. Nothing ever would, she realized with sadness. As if he sensed her slipping away he moved his hands around her ribcage, let her nipple fall free of his mouth, and squeezed a little.

“Slow and easy is not going to cut it right now.”

She nodded. She knew. Maybe later he’d let her pet him, stroke him. When the leopard was appeased. He rolled her over, reached to wrap her legs around his hips, and plunged into her. She grabbed his shoulders and hung on. He wasn’t slow or smooth or even gentle. He was wild. Out of control. His fingers bit into her hips, holding her still and she tried to shift a little, tried to at least meet his thrusts.

He growled a low warning, and she waited for the spike of fear. She’d always been a little afraid of his primitive side and he’d been careful not to scare her, not to push her too far too fast. The old alarm didn’t come. She’d learned to be strong after the crash, found that she liked that about her new self. She ran her hands down his shoulders, over his pecs. Paused a minute to flick her fingers over his nipples. He growled again, and she almost smiled. She wasn’t scared at all. She was really, really turned on.

“When did you get so brave?” he asked, voice guttural with lust.

About a year ago.
The answer froze in her throat. His eyes had turned from their natural green to the narrow amber slits of his cat and she knew he was losing what little control he had. She liked it. Liked that she could push him to it. She didn’t answer, just shook her head, arrested by his expression, by the need and desire stamped across his face.

Not that he gave her a chance to frame a suitable reply. He reached between them and pressed his thumb against her clitoris. Every thought fled. Every worry. Everything but sensation. And sound. She heard herself screaming as she came, heard skin slapping against skin, heard him grunting as he came seconds later.

She didn’t know how much time passed, thought she’d probably dozed off. When she came back to her senses she was sprawled over Jason’s body, one arm around his neck, one leg thrown over his hips. She smiled at the familiar feeling, almost forgot a year had gone by since she’d seen him, but slowly came back to herself, became embarrassingly aware of the leopard beneath her.

She shifted a little, intending to move away, to gather herself but he held her still. One hand convulsed on her ass, the other caressed the nape of her neck. He was gentle, quiet, but his breath sawed from his lungs as if he’d just run a marathon. She struggled to remember how she’d ended up here, but the effort just brought the headache back.

“What am I doing here, Jason?” she whispered.

She had to figure this out.

He lifted his head to meet her gaze, eyebrow arched.

“You don’t know?”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, biting back the exasperated retort that hovered. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t release her. He moved her further over so she stretched from head to toe across his body. His erection pressed against her belly and with a sigh, she spread her thighs to straddle him, felt him nudging the lips of her pussy seeking entrance. She tried hard to ignore the spark flaring to life inside her.

“Not a clue,” she grumbled. The wind howled outside. “Maybe we could start with where am I? And why does my head feel like someone beat on it?”

He scowled.

“Because someone did. I was hoping you would tell me who.”

She thought about it, and her temples throbbed. Shaking her head, she answered, trying to ignore the rising panic.

“Nothing. I don’t remember anything. Where are we?”

“Florida,” he said, then grunted.

She wasn’t sure if he was angry or as confused as she was, but a disturbing thought niggled. Florida seemed…familiar. She needed to remember something important. One thing clicked at least, and she looked at the window with alarm.

“Hurricane Iris?”

“So you remember something of the last few days at least.”

“Days?” she asked, alarmed. “Have I been here that long?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I found you a couple of hours ago in the beach parking lot. Laying on the ground and bleeding.” His voice turned menacing. “I need to know who hit you, Celeste.”

She was surprised at the quiet vehemence, as if he actually cared. She snorted.

“Why?”

He’d always moved fast, but she was still shocked when he reversed their positions and she found herself flat on her back and pressed under his weight again. His cock nestled against her pussy and unable to resist, she tilted her hips just enough to take the head inside her.

“Because no one attacks my mate and lives. No one.” He thrust deep.

She blinked. Surprised and seriously pissed. She found the strength to push him off of her, to push away the tears. His mate. Yeah, right.

“Your mate,” she whispered and then ground her molars against the angry words threatening to spill out.

One learned to be careful with words when one grew up in an Alpha werewolf’s household. She wanted to scream and pace, but tried to resist the urge. Well, to hell with that. He wasn’t a werewolf, and she owed him nothing.

“My mate,” she said, putting as much scorn as possible into the word. “My mate would not have left me alone for months in the hospital. My mate would not have left me alone when the doctors told me I’ll never have children. My mate would have been there for the months of physical therapy and half a dozen surgeries to fix my face.”

She wrenched free and jumped off the bed, putting as much distance between herself and his seductive body as she could, pointing a shaky finger at him.

“Don’t talk to me about mates, Jason.”

He rose slowly, rounded the bed and paced toward her. He looked a little green under his tan. Probably didn’t like to be reminded of his failures in the mate department, or hers in the human. His cock jutted out before him, stiff and proud and damned near impossible to resist.

“Well, that explains that,” he whispered.

He kept advancing, and she retreated until her back hit the wall. She went to duck around him, but his hands slammed against the wall, his hips pushing into hers and pinning her, caging her between his body and the hard place at her back.