The Death Skull: Relic Defender, Book 2 (28 page)

He couldn’t afford to care for the fallen angel. The realization hit him like a hammer between the eyes. Too late. He’d already started to care. More than he should. While she was sin personified, she had a depth of emotion that made him want to peel back the tough exterior and see what was there.

That was insane. Even he was smart enough to think twice about trying to rope a wild filly, and she was as wild as they came.

He straightened and ran his fingers through his hair then scraped across the five o’clock shadow on his jaw. A sigh blew through his nose. Inside the bathroom, the water turned on. When he was sure it ran long enough, he reached inside his jeans back pocket and pulled out the note he’d found at the woman’s place. Or rather, the note Mari had found. Unfolding it, he held it up and started reading, again, the sharp black print against the pristine white.

Dear Mrs. McKay,

As you know, you have fallen behind on your mortgage payments. You must bring the mortgage current within 30 days of the date of this letter. If you do not bring your account current within 30 days, Texan Bank of the US will start legal action to foreclose on the mortgage which will result in the sale of the property.

Thank you for doing business with Texan Bank of the US. It’s been a pleasure to serve you.

Jackson’s fists clenched, crumbling the paper into a small wad. Three weeks since the letter was sent and he’d found it at a stranger’s home delivered by—he thought—Kat. How the hell had she gotten it? He shrugged. She wasn’t around to ask and it didn’t matter. He had just over one week to come up with the money for the new retirement home before his momma was forced out of her home with nowhere to go by the greedy sons of bitches.

He’d done the best he could in sending whatever extra money he had to the bank, but it hadn’t been enough. Since he hadn’t finished his last job with that bastard Beliel, he’d never gotten paid. And working for Archangel Michael didn’t pay shit. For himself, it didn’t matter. He had room and board in that fancy mansion and everything he needed was handled. But nothing extra. Nothing to send to the bank. He was not about to ask Mikos or any of his partners for help. Stupid or not, Jackson had his pride to think about.

He ran a hand through his hair and along the back of his neck. Damn it to hell. Despite the fact he wanted that fancy retirement home for her, he couldn’t let his momma lose the only home she’d known since she married his pa. That house and the things in it were what remained of the love of her life and the son she’d raised but didn’t see near as often as he knew she’d like. He wasn’t there for her in that respect. Saving her home—that was something he had to do. Even if she was living in that retirement home, at least she’d know
her
house was still hers.

His lips firmed. He had one option. Something he would have to do. No matter the cost.

The water in the bathroom shut off. The rattle of the shower curtain rings against the metal bar told him Mari had stepped out of the tub. His mind’s eye pictured her golden skin glistening with water, the long ringlets of hair, dark with water, streaming down her back and across her breasts.

“Whoa, son,” he murmured and closed his eyes.

Thinking about Mari, unclothed, was a surefire way to drive him insane. He was halfway there with wanting her anyway. As beautiful as she was, he’d known other beautiful women who had nearly sent him to his knees with desire. With Mari, his feelings for her were more than that. More than the passion he’d seen in her eyes, more than her scent, warm and spicy. More than her violet eyes with their uptilted corners, and even more than the shiny cascade of glittering auburn hair kissed with fire.

Her strength, determination and steel will were parts of it. So was the fact she was willing to put herself in danger to save his fellow humans when he knew damn well she didn’t care about his race. Still, she stayed and fought for them.

The bathroom door clicked and he opened his eyes. She entered the room, clothed in a pair of some kind of silky pants and a sleeveless top with, holy hell, lace trim at the neck. Her arms were upraised as she towel-dried her hair. The jiggle of her breasts made his tongue turn thick with the desire to taste her.

She must have sensed something as the vigorous motion stopped and she slowly lowered her arms. He dragged his gaze upward to meet hers. Anticipating anger, he braced himself for the cutting edge of her tongue. Instead, a slow smile danced across her lips and her gaze darkened as her pupils dilated. With a casual motion, she tossed the towel to the side and stalked to him. Her bold stare never left him. Under the intensity, his body throbbed with need.

The peaks of her breasts jutted, the nipples pressing against the thin material. His heart hammered in his ears. She closed in on him, halting and standing so close the moist heat from her body curled around him like a warm blanket. Her clean feminine scent washed over him, the smell reminding him of the second rainfall of the season—crisp, fresh and refreshing. Something he would not normally associate with the fiery she-demon.

He dragged in a lungful of her scent as his gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. She met his look with boldness and hunger. He held her stare for a long silent moment which strung between them like a silken thread that she could choose to break at any time.

Her lips parted. When her tongue came out and stroked over her mouth, he thought he’d come in his jeans. That was enough for him. Crossing the distance between them, he pulled her into his arms. His lips came down hard on hers, his hunger raging through his veins.

She met his kiss with a hunger and demand of her own. The taste he’d gotten of her before was a campfire blaze compared to the roaring inferno of the touch and feel of her again. He drank in the sweetness of her lips.

A growl trembled from her and quivered against his mouth, sending an arrow of electricity straight to his groin. Crushing her closer, he explored the outlines of her full, moist lips with his, tickling the soft skin, dancing his tongue into her mouth. The sharp poke of her fangs reminded him that he held a preternatural creature in his arms—not a human woman.

He didn’t give a rat’s ass.

While he devoured her mouth, he slipped a hand up under the silky top. At the touch of her heated skin, he swelled more, his cock straining against his jeans. Damn, the woman was hot. Skimming over her skin, he moved his hands upward until he cupped one of her breasts, which seemed to surge into his grasp. His turn to groan as he brushed his thumb across a pebbled nipple.

Leaving her mouth, he licked and kissed a path down the side of Mari’s neck, lingering for a bit on the fluttering pulse until he reached the delicate lace at the neck of her top. He pulled back slightly, looking into her passion-flushed face. She met his gaze, the lavender engulfed by a red so dark it was garnet.

He half expected her to bolt from his arms, lashing out at him as she left. She didn’t. Instead, she leaned into him, caressing his bare arms, a teasing, light touch that sent currents of desire rocketing to every inch of him.

With a smooth twist of her body, she had him by both arms, spun him around and thrust him backward. He fell, his backside hitting the couch cushions a second before her firm body covered his. Her mouth plundered his, her tongue swirling and caressing. He sucked in a breath, inhaling the sweet taste of her. She pressed against him, her pelvis grinding into his. Pulling back slightly, she took his lower lip into her teeth and bit down.

The shock of the pain-filled pleasure mixed with the salty, metallic taste of blood stunned a moan from him. He couldn’t stop the swell of satisfaction as she echoed his moan with one of her own as it slipped through her lips. Lifting her torso from his, she grabbed the collar of his T-shirt and yanked. The material ripped, the tearing sound loud over their heavy breathing. Flames in her eyes soared, matching the fire in his loins. She leaned over him, dropping her head, and with a combination of tongue, lips and teeth traced a path from his neck to his belly button, then lingered at the waistline of his jeans. Each time the tip of her tongue stroked under the material, he couldn’t help the jump of his body.

She lifted her head and looked at him, a slight smile curling her lips. Little vixen enjoyed her power over him. As every pulse point throbbed, he grabbed the back of her neck, yanking her lips to his again. Mere millimeters apart, she resisted, a snarl rumbling from her chest.

He almost came at that moment. Only a tremendous effort of willpower kept his body waiting and shuddering with anticipation. He was not going to mess up his taste of her.

She danced her fingers down the fine hair from his chest to belly, then unbuttoned the top button of his jeans and slid down the zipper. As she tugged at the material, he lifted his hips to give her easier access. At the same time, he ran his hands up under the tank top, caressing the smooth planes of her back and in a quick flip and twist of his wrists, he pulled off her top. Feasting his gaze on her plump yet firm breasts, his mouth fairly salivated with the urge to take the jutting nipples between his lips.

Ah hell, what was he waiting for?

Like a striking snake, he grabbed one tempting nipple and sucked while his fingertips stroked the circle of her breasts. She let out a sharp cry and arched her back, pushing her breast deeper into his eager mouth. He gorged himself on the dusky peak, moving from one to the next as she writhed above him, her head thrown back, the silken ivory column of her throat gleaming in the low lights.

Blood pounded in his brain and made his knees tremble. All this and they’d indulged only in foreplay?

Her tormented groan was a heady invitation. Before she could stop him, he wrapped his arms around her while he continued his ministrations of her nipples, surged from the couch, flipped and put her on her back beneath him. She squirmed, protesting, but he held her down using his greater weight. Everything told him she liked to be in control; he planned to show the fiery demon giving up some control was just as pleasurable.

Shucking his jeans and briefs, he bore down on her, even as he slipped the silky pants from her curvy waist. She lifted her head, nipped at his skin. A small part of him wondered if she’d bitten his neck. The rest of him didn’t fucking care.

He trailed his fingers down her side, over the sweet curve of her hips, down the outside of her thighs, across her knee and back up until he reached the downy hair and moist, quivering flesh underneath. He sunk his fingertips into the hair, the damp curls clinging. She moaned and arched her back again.

Slipping a finger inside, he found her ready. Unable to keep himself from feeling her wrapped around his cock, he lifted his hips to better position himself when he was shocked by the feel of her hand, hotter than hot, clutching his member as she guided him to her opening and welcomed him inside her.

He thrust, her muscles clenching and unclenching around him, the sheath so tight he felt almost as if he might hurt her, but the gasps and moans she made told him pain was the last thing she was experiencing.

She met each thrust with a surge of her own, rising upward and swallowing him with abandonment until his need for her overrode everything else and there was only her. Only Mari.

With their cries muffled by each other’s lips, Jackson shattered, shuddering into her as he buried his face in her neck, inhaling the spicy scent so familiar. So Mari.

He held her close until his passion was spent and the throb of her core trembled to a halt.

Christ in Heaven, he was in big trouble.

The next day, one day after they’d arrived in Belize, Marisol stood on the banana plantation’s jetty looking out over the Columbia River. She and Jackson were waiting for the guide who would take them to San Pedro Columbia, not to be confused with San Pedro Town, then into the jungle to Lubaantun, the City of Fallen Stones. Tendrils of her hair—the pieces escaping from the tight braid she’d woven—stuck to her temples and her neck with irritating discomfort.

Fires of Hell, this place was worse than actually
being
in Hell. Oppressing humidity that clung to her body, sapping her strength. She inhaled a quick breath then swore at the clash of jungle and human odors. Various scents that fought for dominance each time she breathed.

She’d only been in Belize two days, and the first one hadn’t counted since they’d spent it in a resort hotel. Now, not even a full day later, she was certain she’d never come back again. Not because the tiny country sandwiched between Guatemala and the Caribbean Sea wasn’t absolutely fascinating and gorgeous. Or that the people weren’t friendly. For humans, they were quite pleasant.

It was the insufferable heat and humidity. If she’d wanted to sweat all the time, she could have stayed with Lucifer in Hell. A tiny, dark insect flew into her face. “Cerberus’s heads,” she muttered. The bugs too. The place seemed rife with the tiny winged beasts.

“What’s the matter, Mari? Doesn’t this feel like home?”

She slid Jackson a flat glance. Other than a slight sheen of sweat glazing the bits of his chest not covered by the white shirt, he seemed perfectly at ease. A hat rode low on his forehead. She couldn’t see his eyes but did see the amused twist to his lips.

The sight tore her back to last night. She had gone after Jackson as if she’d been a bitch in heat, tearing at his clothes and skin, trying to brand him forever. He’d met her fiery passion with a darkness of his own, as fast and furious as she had been. Even now, the juncture at her thighs tingled with remembering the feel of him thrusting into her, hard and fast until they’d both found a violent, satisfying release.