Jack, page 12
part #2 of Hunted Shifters Legacy Series
“That was crazy. That was unbelievable,” she said, shaking her head.
“It was.”
She gathered her calm, remembered that his place was actually a small, lone pocket in itself. Then she turned her attention to him, finally taking in his state of dress.
Which wasn’t much.
Startled, Kit realized that while Jack had put on pants, he hadn’t put on a shirt. That exposed a hard, muscular chest where old scars lined his body and sweat had it glistening. A v-line went straight down, a thin trail of hair pointing like an arrow inside those pants. She’d seen this before when he’d first come unconscious to her home.
She wasn’t prepared for the way it made her body throb as if it had a mind of its own.
“You were amazing back there.”
The words had Kit’s eyes flying up, where they met his. Belatedly, she realized he must’ve been eyeing her up, too. A clinical assessment, most likely.
Awareness thickened the air, anyway, creeping in her senses and making it hard to think. That awareness made the elevator and the space between them seem smaller, despite the fact that he was on the opposite side.
Half-naked. Slick.
Watching her intimately, because what they’d survived was intimate.
She gulped. “I tried.”
“No, you more than tried. You fucking killed it with those assholes.”
The curse word sent desire skittering up her spine, and she had to grip her hands behind her on the elevator handlebar to keep from making a sound. Her hands itched to reach out, to feel just how hard he was.
Desperately, she tried to keep things normal.
“You were great, too,” she murmured. She tore her eyes away from those ice blue ones, the gaze making her sink in her arousal. She ended up looking down, fascinated at the washboard abs of his tanned stomach. “We might’ve failed the stakeout, but we aced that vampire side trouble, and…you’re injured.”
Without thought, Kit was already reaching out and touching the fresh wound at the area below his navel. It was close to the edge of his trousers, half-covered inside, and she tugged.
A strangled sound burst out of his throat. Her fingers froze.
“I can take care of it,” he said, voice tight. “It’s nothing big.”
His skin scorched her fingers, and she had to be careful as she removed her hands and looked away. Embarrassed, figuring he probably didn’t want to be touched, she swallowed.
“Alright. I trust you.”
She realized the admission didn’t just mean the scar, and she realized it was every bit of the truth. The need to explain further was so important, and she opened her mouth.
The elevator dinged, then opened.
“Come on. This floor’s only accessible through me, and people I allow access to.”
He took her elbow, then steered her in the vast, empty hallway. Trying to ignore the heat of that big hand, Kit looked around, the white marble floors and white walls empty. There was only one door there, too.
“Why is it so…?”
“So if anything somehow passes through this realm—a tracking device, a bomb—I can see it right away.”
Oh. She had no idea he lived like this, and she had no idea he lived on the building’s top floor. Jack directed her to the door, opened it with a press of thumb on the lock pad.
Inside, her eyes practically bugged out as she took in just how huge his apartment—penthouse—was.
A steel door, locked tight as a drum from the inside. Huge windows looking out, but with steel bars to keep anyone from getting in. It was an open concept filled with sleek, modern furniture, the kitchen flowing easily into the living room and doors that matched the walls.
“I knew it,” she muttered, mouth going dry.
“Knew what?”
“One, you’re rich. Two, your interior matches your clothes.” She shot him a look. “Dark and desolate, Stallone.”
“Funny,” Jack drawled. The gleam in his eyes watered down the seriousness in his tone. He pointed to the last door on their right. “Guest room. Help yourself to my clothes. Take a hot shower. It'll help you relax. This has been a long day.”
“I didn't end up helping you,” she whispered, instantly feeling guilty. But he was already shaking his head.
“Kit, you've been the best help these past few weeks. Trust me on that.” Silence. “Let me make some calls, ease Killian up. Tell me if you need anything.”
She wanted to tell him it was unfair how every trust he offered to her made her ache and want more. She bit her lip to keep from saying it, not trusting herself to keep it at that.
“I’m not the only one who needs to relax, you know,” she reminded.
“I know. I’ll get to it.” He waved a hand, already distracted as he turned and went for the kitchen.
Kit tried not to react at the punch of visuals that was his back, all the same faded scars and honed to warrior perfection. Wide shoulders, tapering to a narrow waist. Trousers clinging to a firm butt—
She made a squeaking sound, barely managing to cover it with a cough.
Then Kit was turning around and running to her assigned bedroom like the coward she was.
Chapter 16
As far as nightcaps went, this wasn’t a bad one: home-cooked dinner, dessert, and a bottle of red wine, one he’d been hankering to give a try but just didn’t want to drink alone. Kit wasn’t much of a wine fan, but she was a big enthusiast of his steak and apple cobbler—which, he supposed, made this a pretty successful turn from earlier’s troubles.
Jack watched Kit sit on his kitchen stool, contentedly savoring the apple cobbler she was close to finishing. Her earlier shower had washed off her makeup, and now she was in one of his gray shirts. Her hair was in a side bun, and her lips were slid up in a playful smile.
She was the epitome of relaxed, her ability to always bounce back was something that fascinated him. Seeing her enjoyment over a simple meal helped him relax, too, and he let the wine follow it up.
“You didn’t tell me you made amazing, home-cooked dinners, especially cobblers,” she said, tone accusatory and playful.
He raised a brow. “Was I supposed to tell you?”
“Hell, yes.” Kit came to the last bite, licking her spoon with gusto. His eyes followed the movement, while his brain told him to look away. Both warred, and nothing helped as his stomach clenched in response. “Because if you told me, I would’ve demanded you cook in exchange for you crashing on my couch.”
Jack cleared his throat, tossing back a huge gulp of wine. “Well, then. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
Something flew towards his head, and he ducked. The piece of broccoli landed on the kitchen counter with a plop, making her stifle a grin.
“Great reflexes, Jack, but you probably already know that.”
“Thanks.”
The smile drifted off, and her brows furrowed.
“What now?”
“Nothing. Just curious.”
“About what?” he asked, taking another gulp of wine.
“How many women you've wined and dined here, except it’s none of my business.”
The wine went down the wrong pipe, and Jack very nearly choked as he tried to cough it out. He gave her a look.
“You’re right. It’s none of your business.”
“Yep.”
“But unless I count Celine when she came here with Hunter, the answer’s zero.”
This time, Kit gaped. “Are you serious? No nightcaps with women?”
“This is my sleep and work zone. Taking women here for entertainment is a distraction I don’t need.”
“So where do you take them?”
“Fancy dinner out, nightcap at their place. I don’t stay in. There’s work, and there’s my other life. Those are more important, and sometimes they don’t understand. So I eventually stopped dating.” Realizing he was close to babbling, Jack cleared his throat. “What about you? Was that asshole in your building your last one?”
Kit shrugged. “Dean was the last boyfriend, but I’ve had a string of bad ones. They find me fascinating at first, and then they grow tired of the whole persona.”
“Funny.”
“Funny why?”
Jack shrugged back, looking her in the eye—needing her to understand that he meant this. “I found you tiresome at first. And then I got to know you, and now you’re just fascinating.”
“The persona?”
“All of it, you’re Kit, not a persona.”
Her cheeks colored prettily, then she began to gather plates in an attempt to excuse herself. The fact that a compliment would make her blush charmed him, and he watched with quiet amusement as she hastily went to the sink and started washing the dishes.
“I don’t know how you live with black and white plates,” she complained, though her fingers ran over them with care. “The black ones make it difficult to spot food, and the white ones are boring. Have you ever tried bold colors?”
“I haven’t,” he admitted. “But lately, I’ve been thinking how nice it is to look at.”
“It is. All that rainbow beauty, pops of color that give life…”
“Golden streaks,” he added, watching as she stilled and got the reference. “Sad to see it go, since it’s honestly my favorite color as of yet.”
“Yeah, right. Wait until you see the next color.”
It would probably be something bold, just like she was. He was probably going to like it, anyway.
“Oh, yeah? Full golden?”
“I wish.”
“Watch out for that one. Dragons have a fondness for too much gold.”
“They don’t exist,” she shot back, then turned to look at him. “Do they?”
Jack smirked. “Only in your worst nightmares. But who knows?”
“You’re such a tease,” she grumbled, returning to the plates as she stacked them in his dishwasher. Done, she wiped her hands dry and turned to face him fully. “Also, dragons aren’t scary. They’re sexy. Now, do you need any more work done? I’d be happy to help in exchange for all that kickass food.”
The relaxed state Kit was in earlier only doubled, and now she looked positively sleepy. Her bun had ridden down, wisps framing her face, and his shirt had slithered to the side to show off one shoulder. That shoulder looked smooth as silk and utterly…bitable.
To his horror, his teeth itched against his gums, raring to go to their natural sharp state.
“No, there’s no more work to be done.”
She stretched her hands up and yawned, and the action made the shirt ride up. It skimmed against her pale thighs, and his vision tunneled when he realized she was probably just wearing her underwear.
Or maybe she was wearing nothing at all.
No bra, either, if the way her breasts stretched across his shirt was any indication. They swayed at her movements, huge enough to do so but still firm mounds.
Or maybe, just maybe, his imagination was overacting.
Christ.
“Are you sure? Because I’m totally willing.”
The words made his cock hard as iron before reality crashed in: that she was talking about helping him out with work. Of course, that didn’t soften it up, leaving him no choice but to stay where he was so the counter would cover his lower half. Slowly, Jack shook his head.
“No. It’s fine. Go get some rest.”
Kit smiled, and again, it was a sleepy one. He watched her as she walked over to him—then, nearly toppled over from his stool when her body pressed against his in a tight, friendly hug. It was quick and abrupt, but he caught a whiff of her scent, anyway: his cotton-scented shampoo, along with the apples that she’d just had.
“Goodnight. Get some rest, too.”
And then she was gone, leaving Jack alone in the kitchen and torn between aching, raging, and vastly relieved over something he couldn’t figure out.
* * *
Work, as usual, took up his night, and he kept at it until he felt his vision grow blurry. Jack didn’t fight it, closing his laptop with a snap and leaning against the couch, where his tired shoulders practically heaved a sigh as they touched the furniture’s softness.
He slept—not peacefully, as dreams plagued him. But he kept sleeping, anyway, the dreams already a constant thing that he could let it run there and still get the rest he needed. Those dreams were of the city, of the sewers, of every home he’d had before he’d managed to get this: a luxurious penthouse that had the best facilities and security. Of course, it helped that the building was also a pocket in its own right, accessible only via the top floor or the very-much ignored spot hidden behind the alley dumpster.
The dreams went on, pleasantly neutral at first before they changed. The change came gradually, letting thoughts of his past cradle him first before darkness rolled over.
That darkness brought in clouds, and those clouds hovered over him as Trey beat him to a pulp. Not just Trey, but every other reptile shifter who didn’t think him worthy and wanted him dead for it. Being half-human always made them stronger than him, and he had to train twice as hard and use every resource there was to have the slightest advantage.
It didn’t matter, because any win didn’t count. His blood had been deemed impure, and that was that.
The scene shifted, and now a new face came floating: Kit, with her bright hair and bright personality. The fear on her face reflected in his dream, watching incessantly as he fought for both their lives. Then she was the one fighting, rolling on the ground with the reptiles: one after another, piling on top of her until she was defenseless. Then they began to tear her apart, not leaving an inch of flesh behind until blood was running on the ground and filling the air with its coppery, sickening scent…
“Jack, help me.”
He tried, he really did. But she was buried in scales, no longer alive…
“Jack. Jack—"
The shaking snapped in his body, then had his eyes snapping open. In a second, Jack was moving, yanking the hand off him and rolling to gain momentum…
“Jack!”
The black, dreamlike blur in his mind cleared, but in slow intervals. The voice remained constant as it called out his name, gentle but firm and very, very concerned…
“Jack, it’s okay. I’m here. It was just a dream.”
Kit was in front of him, alive and breathing. His hands moved: checking for scars, assessing her condition, desperately trying to see if the nightmare had made its way to reality. But her flesh was intact with no ripped parts, and there was no scent of blood at all. The hard, stark fear that snapped at his system slowly went back down, replaced by the kind of relief that made his bones weak.
“It was just a dream,” he repeated, remembering her earlier words.
She nodded. “Yes. A nightmare. Whatever you dreamed about, it’s not real, okay?”
“You’re real,” he whispered, locking in on her. More out of desperation at first, that frantic need to cling to the reality she was talking about. Eventually, it became just looking: at her steady presence, at her big brown eyes, at the soft vulnerability she emitted that made him want to sink against her.
“I’m real,” she agreed softly. “As real as it’ll get.”
And she was pressed tight against him because he was still pinning her down to the rug like no one’s business.
His brain told him to disengage, but it wasn’t even functioning correctly at the moment. It noted that she was below him, noted that she didn’t look like she was panicking at all. It noted that awareness had started simmering in her eyes, which were trained on him and waiting.
It also noted that she was soft—softer than he’d expected, softer than he’d given her credit for. She yielded against his hard frame, making him hyperaware of one thing that had his mouth going dry. He’d been right.
Kit had forgone the underwear, her shirt the only barrier separating them.
And what a thin barrier it was.
His hand tightened around her waist, an instinctive reaction. His other hand fisted on the rug at the side of her head, everything in him torn between pulling back and driving his hips forward. She was also warm—so fucking warm that he wanted to sink again, but for a completely different reason.
As if that reason wanted to make itself known, Jack’s cock went rock hard, and he barely bit back his groan. Alarm raced to his head, screaming a beat that warred against his fingers moving to her hair—
“Jack…”
Like a time bomb that had just exploded, that broke it for him: the raspy sound of her voice, along with the confusion. Her nipples pressed against his chest. In an instant, he was up and off her, cursing in his head before he stubbornly held out a hand to her. She took his hand, had him gritting his teeth as electricity lurched through them both. She swayed to her feet, lips parted and eyes still on him.
Jack cleared his throat and looked away.
“You dyed your hair.”
Her answer made his stomach tighten. “This is my natural color. I figured I should let it sit for a while.”
Brown, lighter than her eyes. Pretty.
No, no. Fucking beautiful.
“Okay.”
Silence. Kit cleared her throat, too. “Is everything okay, Jack? That was your second nightmare since we’ve…that I’ve witnessed.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. They’re just things that I don’t get to solve before I sleep, and they always find a way to enter my mind.”
“That’s dangerous,” she admonished, taking a step closer. Her hand on his arm was meant to be a comfort, but his dick didn’t get the memo and began to jut out. “That’s…”
“Highly inadvisable for you to be touching me so early in the morning.”
“What? Why…?” Her voice trailed off, and brown eyes looked down to assess if she touched an injury.
Shock came in next, followed by her face coloring so brightly that he wanted to run his hands over it.
“It’s a morning phenomenon.”
“I know it’s a morning phenomenon,” she shot back, gaze flying back up. Then down, curiosity flaring on her expression, then up. The back-and-forth had his body going haywire. “I just didn’t know it would react that way to me.”
