On the Hunt (Sentinel Wars #3.5)(52)
Author: Gena Showalter

"They won’t go without her."

"Make them." JT would’ve handed her over to her teammates, but he didn’t want to have to explain the half-day coma. More, he would need to talk her down when she woke up, find some way to convince her that she had wrecked the Jeep, banged her head, and hallucinated the rest of it. Note to self: Roll the Jeep into a ditch down the road.

"About the temple," Rez began, his words barely audible through the static. ". . . council wants to know what you think."

"Blow it," JT said without hesitation. Over the past few years, the villagers had sealed five other caves that showed evidence of ‘ zotz activity. Each time, the demon attacks had skipped a couple of cycles. "Then get Natalie’s team out. Tell them she’s with me, and she’ll meet them at the embassy in a couple of days."

"Will do."

JT cut the call, rubbing his chest, where regret ached. Shit, he hated the idea of blasting an actual temple, rather than just an ichor-encrusted cave—ancestor worship was hardwired into his DNA, he supposed. But he’d been searching for the bat-demons’ sacred sites, had even talked the council into letting Natalie’s team stay in the hopes that their fancy equipment would lead them to pay dirt. And it apparently had, only he hadn’t been there to manage the fall out.

Some f**king protector he’d turned out to be.

That failure, too, was probably hardwired. Despite two tours in the Middle East, he knew too damn well that—in this war, at least—his people weren’t supposed to be the frontliners. His job was defense and mop-up.

"Shit." He scrubbed his hands over his face, suddenly feeling his age. He wasn’t near village-elder territory yet, but his body sure felt that way all of a sudden. "Get some shut-eye," he told himself. "The perimeter’s secure."

As secure as he could make it, anyway, given that the’ zotz suddenly weren’t playing by the old rules, the ones that said they came through the barrier only two at a time, and stuck together once they were out of the underworld. Which meant . . . Hell, he didn’t know what it meant. But it wasn’t good.

Knowing he should hit the couch, he headed for the bedroom instead. He stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of Natalie’s chest and seeing the stark white of the gauze four-byfours he’d taped to her arm.

He shouldn’t have admitted that he’d lied about the breakup. As miserable as he’d been for the past seventy-two hours, the situation hadn’t changed. He couldn’t leave the dark, dangerous slice of forest that had become his responsibility . . . and he couldn’t let her stay. She was too perceptive, too foolishly brave. Too much of a fighter.

"What am I going to do with you?" he said softly. It was rhetorical, of course. There was only one thing he could do: make her leave. But first he would watch over her, and make sure she slept safely.

Cursing himself for not being strong enough to walk away now, just as he hadn’t been man enough to stick around after he’d cut her loose, he lay down beside her. She’d be asleep until midmorning at the earliest, and didn’t ever need to know they had spent one last night together.

Her body heat seeped into him, filling some of the empty places and easing the aches. He knew it made him a selfish bastard to take the comfort that he wouldn’t have taken—or given—if she were awake. But right then he couldn’t make himself care. He needed this. He needed her.

Rolling onto his side, he propped himself up on an elbow and let himself look at her, let himself believe that she was there again, one last time. Tomorrow, he would convince her that the ‘ zotz had been a nightmare. Then he would drive her back to civilization, where she would get the news that he’d pulled strings to get her permits revoked . . . and that he’d started the process a month ago. She would hate him for that. And she would leave.

Tonight, though . . . tonight he could reach over and brush at a smudge on her cheek. He could feel the softness of her skin, the warmth of her breath, and—

She turned her face into his hand and gave a soft sigh. JT froze, a bolt of sensation ripping through him when she shifted and rolled over to curl into him, murmuring something soft and sweet.

There was no way she could be waking up this soon.

Except that she was.

Her eyes fluttered open, their depths blurry and vulnerable as they sought his. The air took on a strange humming note, one that resonated deep within his chest and kindled a sizzle of desire he had no business feeling.

"Natalie," he said in a rasp that broke partway. "There was an—" Accident, he should have said, but couldn’t stick to the lie. "Ah, hell," he whispered.

He would have taken the kiss, but she reached up as he leaned down, so they met halfway. As their lips touched, the strange vibration in the air changed pitch, lowering until it seemed to hum deep in his diaphragm, emptying his chest and knotting his gut.

When her lips parted, he tasted a freshness that chased away old betrayals. And when their tongues touched, a roaring, possessive heat seared through him.

He wanted to take her, wanted to protect her. Wanted to mark her as his own for tonight, even knowing he would have to drive her away tomorrow.

He rose over her, pinned her without breaking the kiss. He growled when she twined her arms around his neck to hold him close, and sizzling energy raced through him, coming from the relief of having her safe, the adrenaline from fighting the ‘ zotz, and three miserable f**king days spent in the forest trying to forget about her.

He tasted her, touched her, crushed her against him, and nearly came when she pulled the bedclothes away and looped a leg around his hips.

Gods, he thought. He didn’t say the word, though, couldn’t let her suspect the deeply buried part of himself that didn’t follow the rules and religions of normal humans. So instead he kissed her hard and pressed against her, trying to surround and protect her from everything but himself.

She got a double handful of his shirt—which was only fair, as he had both of his hands up hers—and twined her foot around the back of his calf, then used the leverage to roll them. Once on top, she rose over him for a long, lingering kiss that made his heart bump.

But then she pulled away, breathing hard, her eyes dark with arousal and confusion. "JT . . ."

She trailed off, eyes widening as memory returned. Her body stiffened against his. "What the hell was that thing?"

Damn it.

"It’s okay," he said quickly. "You’re safe here. They can’t get over the wall." They couldn’t fly until their wings regenerated, and he and the villagers never let them live that long.

And, shit, he was supposed to be telling her it was all a bad dream.