Dawn Endeavor 3: Julian's Jeopardy (6 page)

She bit her lower lip. “You can heal yourself, like me. But you're so much more.”

He grunted. “You're a lot more than you appear to be as well.” Sensing they were safe, at least for now, he
changed
back, wanting to feel his normal body again, to be more compatible with Sheridan. Hell, if he were honest with himself, he wanted to feel her hands on the man's skin, not his beast's.

“Incredible.” She caressed his chest, and he stifled a moan.

The fog of lust made everything else fade into the background. Suddenly consumed with the need to take Sheridan, Jules could think of nothing but her. His aches and pains disappeared, pushed behind a door in his mind as his carnal desires overwhelmed his senses.
Shit, I’m hard enough to split wood. And her pussy
is creaming for me. I need this
. “Hmm, yeah. Incredible.” He kissed her before she could protest, and she sank into his arms like she'd been made for him.

He licked her lips and pushed his tongue into the sweet cavern of her mouth, dizzy with need. She felt so damned good against him, so feminine and yielding. He wanted to sink inside such softness, to let it surround him and lose himself in her warmth. The energy in the woman called to him the same way her voluptuous little body did.

Ending the kiss, he trailed his mouth down her cheek to her neck. He placed his mouth over the spot on her neck he'd seen bruised, and lightly sucked, aroused when she moaned. Her nipples raked his chest, and he thrust against her belly, aching for her.

“Oh,” she gasped. “You're making me so hot.”

“Good, because you make me burn.” He had to touch her. He ran his hands over her back, then slid them under her top. She didn't protest, and he tossed the camisole away, exposing her creamy shoulders and breasts. “Oh, man. A rosy peach, my favorite color.” He groaned and sucked on her nipple, unable to keep away.

She moaned his name with so much desire and urgency that she soothed his need to take her hard and fast. After all the suffering he'd undergone, he intended to linger in the first sense of true peace he'd had since his hellish time in captivity.

Hell, since he'd turned fucking Circ, if he admitted the truth.

Her breasts were full, so large and round, and tipped with wide areolas and tight nipples. He feasted on one, then the other, biting the engorged buds until she cried out and clutched him tighter. Her small hands on his waist felt so hot, so good.

He wanted them on him, over his cock and balls. Closer, so close until there was no him or her—only them, joined as one.

Jules pushed her shorts to the ground and eased them both to their knees. He lay back, not wanting to hurt her skin on the rough ground. Not liking even that small of a distance between them, he pulled her closer to continue suckling her breasts.

Her moans and the sweltering scent of her need surrounded him with true paradise.

She settled over him more firmly, bringing the wet heat of her sex over his cock, and he bucked up, sliding in her cream.

“Jules, please,” she rasped, a throaty whisper that taunted his willpower. “I want you inside me.”

“Demanding little thing, aren't you?” he teased and kissed his way back up her throat to her mouth. A small part of him whispered of danger, of potential enemies nearby, but his beast snarled the caution to silence. This was much more important, vital to Jules's well-being. He needed Sheridan like he needed breath. And he intended to have her.

He licked at her mouth and thrust past her lips, caught in the feminine taste of her.

The kiss flamed through his body, connecting them in a way he hadn't anticipated. Affection poured through him, racing alongside the lust that continued to build. Everything in Jules, in the man and his beast, cherished the gift of this female, so small yet so resilient as he laid claim to her. He wanted the moment to last as he learned all the ways to please her.

But the stubborn woman on top of him had other ideas. She shifted, and before he knew it, he slid inside her, the head of his cock engulfed by wet heat.

“Oh, fuck.” He swore and tried to stop her from moving.

“More,” she demanded.

Astonished at Sheridan's sudden fierceness, he stared into her bright eyes and watched her expression as she sank over him. He lost himself in her aroused gaze, in the flush of pleasure on her cheeks, in the parted lips that moaned his name as she willingly accepted him.

Inch by inch, she took him inside, the soft mews of her bliss making it increasingly difficult not to slam her on top of him and conquer the rest of her.

Instead, Jules allowed himself to be conquered.

She straightened, her heavy breasts lifting in time with her breathing as she lowered herself until she took all of him. The heat of her around him, of her wet pussy over his balls, was indescribable.

He gripped her hips and held her there, not wanting her to move yet, or it would all be over.

“You feel so good inside me,” she admitted on a breathy moan. “So full.” He swore and instinctively arched his hips. Her groan spurred him, and he raised her hips slowly, then let her glide back down him again.

“Ride me, Sheridan. God, please, don't stop. I want you to come all over me.”

“Jules,” she whispered and then pleasured them both.

She rose higher, until only the tip of him remained inside her; then she rocked back over him, taking him deep. The slide of her pussy mesmerized him, and he watched himself disappear inside her each time she took him.

He reached up and cupped her breasts, taken with the hard nipples. They pressed into his palms and begged to be pinched. When he did, she slammed over him. So he did it again.

Playing with her breasts gave him some small control over her motions, and soon she increased her pace until she was all but crying over him, tearing his mind and resolve to shreds.

His claws lengthened, his fangs grew, and his lust spiraled out of control.

Sheridan slammed down one final time and whimpered as her body clamped down hard, seizing his cock in a grip so tight, he couldn't stop himself from coming.

“Sheridan,” he moaned as he climaxed, filling her with a mess of seed. He seized in spasm, caught in an agonizing bliss as he spent and continued to spend.

When finally his orgasm tapered to a stop, he pulled her off him and shoved her to her hands and knees, then positioned himself behind her. Despite coming, he was still hard, needy. Still Circ.

Mine. Make her mine
. His beast snarled at him to finish it, to take his mate and bind her to them.

She didn't protest when he slammed back into her and took her again, not sure when the pleasure of his first orgasm had stopped before climbing toward a second, harder fulfillment.

But somehow she was there, sharing it with him, her pussy a vise on his cock and taking all of him while he shuddered and whispered her name.

Finally wrung dry, he withdrew from her body and collapsed on the ground.

His aches and pains returned in a rush, and a bone-deep weariness tugged at him.

But he didn't care. Jules pulled Sheridan on top of him, not surprised to see her exhausted and on the verge of sleep. A satisfied smile curled her lips.

So precious.
So mine
. His beast repeated, even as it curled inside him, content and possessive. She was so slight, so frail compared to him. The thought of anything happening to her was unthinkable.

His head throbbed, and a striking pain darted between his eyes. Time was running out, and he felt that he'd made a huge mistake. The burning in his joints grew. His bones fucking hurt, and the stretch of muscle beneath even Sheridan's light weight hurt. He was fast going to lose consciousness. He could feel it.

“Sheridan, listen to me. If we separate or something happens to me, I want you to call this number.” He rattled off the Circ emergency number, worried because even to himself the numbers sounded slurred. “Repeat it back to me. You can't forget. There are people there who can help you.” She repeated it five times before he relaxed.

“Don't worry, Jules. We'll get out of here together. I know it.” She yawned and stroked his chest, the tingling heat from her fingers giving him something he'd been missing for some time. Warmth, a sense of belonging, affection that spread and deepened inside him.

He kissed the top of her glorious red hair and smiled as the darkness overtook him. How ironic that in the belly of this nightmare he'd find an angel of his own.

God, if I’m dreaming, don’t ever wake me up.

He caressed her back as she settled into slumber. His beast sighed and decided to join her.

No, not yet, he yelled in his dazed mind, to no avail. The sated creature refused to heed him, so tired, so worn down by the treatment they'd suffered in the labs. Jules tried, but the man couldn't deny his need to rest either. The drugs surged through his unprotected mind. Without the beast there to temper the effects, the chemicals saturating his brain turned the jungle into a circus of rioting sensation. And without wanting to, he fell into a nightmarish sleep in a place where he and Sheridan could little afford vulnerability.

He awakened to more darkness and to the foreign scent of threat in the air.

Sheridan stirred, and he had trouble raising his hand to cover her mouth to caution her to silence. She nodded, and he removed his hand. He pulled her ear to his mouth and whispered, “Stay low. We have company.” Cursing himself for falling asleep when he shouldn't have, he forced his beast to stir, giving him enough power to move to his feet and at least give some semblance of a Circ who could fight. He pushed Sheridan into a copse of trees and prayed his scent masked hers. He could feel the presence of Circs nearby.
Fuck
.

Rogues, he hoped, because they'd probably been ordered to take him back to the compound. But mutants couldn't reason. They fucked and fought to sate abnormal hungers. Combating more than one mutant by himself, especially being this weak, would spell certain death. But he'd die before he'd let anything happen to Sheridan.

He straightened to his full height and pushed with everything he had in him to
change
, and just in time. Three rogues flew at him from all directions. He fought as best he could with fangs and claws and brute strength, but he put up a pitiful contest at best.

They didn't need much to take him to the ground, but still he fought, desperate to distract them so that Sheridan might escape the danger.

To his shock, his teammates arrived and began hammering on the rogues around him. Except Tersch, who delivered a punch to his jaw that hurt like a motherfucker.

“Easy, Viking,” he garbled.

“Viking? Shit, he's gone.” The raspy voice was unfamiliar, and Jules blinked up at a rogue he didn't know.

“Not…Tersch.”

The asshole smiled and drew back his fist, readying to punch Jules right in the face. He could feel it. His beast knew it was coming but could do nothing to stop it.

Sounds grew louder, then softer, and the rogue in front of him suddenly had two heads. Then the lights went out.

Sheridan's scream woke him from the darkness, and he turned to see two rogues fighting over her, tugging on her like a damned piece of rope. To his confusion, the rogue who'd been ready to hit him had vanished.

He roared and stumbled to his knees, trying unsuccessfully to regain his feet.

Unable to stand on what felt like a broken ankle, he crawled after Sheridan. He didn't get far before one of the rogues fighting for her turned in his direction. Dark brown eyes flashed to green, then back to brown again. Like magic, the rogue seemed to grow, then shrink, and Jules puzzled over the male's ability to change.

“Shit, he's a goner,” the shrinking Circ said. “He's fading fast. Take the girl.”

“No. Sheridan,” Jules rasped and scared himself. He sounded weak, his voice barely audible.

Then the mutant found him.

Too bad he found a moment of clarity only to see a monster out of his worst nightmare descending on him.

Circs who had succumbed to bloodlust faster than others were prone to a speedy descent to hell if they couldn't manage the mating heats or if they'd been dosed with a control drug meant to manage Circs. Unfortunately, the drug didn't manage so much as alter Circs, who soon mutated into creatures no longer resembling anything human.

The rogues Jules had fought looked like him—larger, wider, darker, but still mostly human. This mutant had night black skin and crawled on four feet. Its hind legs were somewhat shorter than the front legs, and it moved the way a gorilla might. But there the resemblance to the mighty ape faltered. Because this thing didn't have ears or a nose, just large red eyes without pupils, slits where its nostrils should have been, and a mouth filled with rows of sharp teeth, almost like a cross between a shark and a predatory feline.

The thing wasn't graceful, yet it moved with such speed that it covered Jules before he could blink.

He swore he heard Sheridan yelling in the background, but he couldn't make sense of anything more than that the fucking mutant was
eating his arm
. Tearing the flesh from bone and sucking with a pronged tongue.

“Dammit!” He tried to throw the thing from him but could do no more than lie there and suffer. At least some numbness removed him from the pain. But in the back of his mind, he thought the lack of sensation might be worse than feeling the injury.

“Hunger,” the mutant rasped and grinned. “Mine.” It surged against him, letting him feel its mangled cock. “Hunger.”

“Oh, fuck no.” Jules couldn't think of a worse way to die, but at least the thing wasn't after Sheridan. Yet. “Go,” he tried to yell at her. “Get away.” This thing had a bad case of the mating heat; he could smell its lust in the air. But instead of turning him on, it made him want to puke. So unnatural, so pitifully wrong.

With a last burst of strength, he shifted his clawed hand between their bodies and struck hard at the thing's cock, raking his fingers over its most vulnerable part.

It screamed and retaliated by clawing his chest and biting his neck.

The pain blindsided him, but he twisted his fingers and dug deeper, sawing until he'd castrated the creature.