Beyond the Darkness by Jaime Rush Page A

dropping the shoes in the process. She fell against him, her body plastered against his, looking at the hollow of his throat and the jaguar pendant. She couldn’t move. Beneath her fingers, where she flattened her hands on his chest, his skin was hot. He wasn’t helping her regain her footing. Her gaze met his. And her body wasn’t dying anymore. It was more alive than it had ever felt.
    The roar of lust consumed her like a fire out of control, licking at her senses—and her common sense. The answering lust in his eyes energized her body. His hands were on her shoulders and they slid down her back at the same time he covered her mouth with his.
    “We have to get back to the Tank,” he said between devouring kisses. He squeezed her butt in long, sensuous strokes.
    “Tank? You have one of those hidden away, too?”
    He chuckled. “No, that’s just what I call the RV.”
    Her fingers threaded through his wet hair.
    He stopped, blinked. “I must be crazy,” he muttered, his eyes still simmering with heat.
    She could only nod, her fingers tightening on his shoulders. “Definitely crazy.”
    “Not only should I not be doing this at all, I sure as hell shouldn’t be doing it now .”
    She took a step back, steadying herself. “I know. So why do I want to keep doing it?”
    “Beats the hell out of me.” He turned to her. “You felt it, too?”
    She nodded. “Even back at my place, when we fought Baal. I thought it was my imagination, because no way do I get turned on by fighting for my life. Why is it happening?”
    “Adrenaline.”
    “You feel like this every time you fight?”
    “No, not the lust part. Sometimes I want to puke or even cry. It’s just an outgrowth of the overwhelming surge of adrenaline.” He snagged his shoes, taking a look around while he did so. “We have to get out of here. And I’ve got to get rid of you.”
    “Me? This is my fault?”
    “No, it’s my fault. The fact that I want to throw you on the ground and tear off your clothes is obviously a volatile chemical reaction when mixing you and adrenaline. My weakness. And if I keep fighting with you around, we’ll both end up dead.”
    Y urek caught up with the Glouk farther upstream. He had to learn to morph back to his previous form faster. It took longer to come back, and it felt damned uncomfortable being in animal form. Turning into the jaguar, though, had put him on even ground with the mysterious human who had even stronger Callorian DNA than the woman. She called him Cheveyo. The Glouks who came here were afraid of him. Some, like Baal, wanted to be heroes and slay him.
    Yurek was beginning to feel the same way. He would be a hero to the Collaborate if he found and killed two people of unknown Callorian origin as well as extracting Pope back to Surfacia. Unfortunately, it was proving difficult.
    Baal transformed to his human form so he could communicate. “You lost them?”
    “It was your job to track them. I was busy.”
    “I can’t track good if they’re in water.” His nostrils flared and his head jerked to the left. “They went back that way. Faint scent, coming off the breeze.”
    “Then we go. We don’t want to lose their trail.”
    The Glouk lifted his chin. “I can track prey that’s miles away.” He transformed back to dog and bounded through the woods. The creature looked hideous, but it ran with speed and grace.
    Yurek walked back along the river’s edge until he came to the spot where they’d had the altercation. The underbrush was tamped down in places, broken in others. The dagger lay on the ground. He picked it up, running his finger along the edge, feeling it slice into his skin like a razor. Sharp. Deadly point. He had never met anyone like Cheveyo, who could transform into a beast but was not a Glouk. He’d only heard of them. He liked being a jaguar better than the dog; made him feel powerful.
    He ingested the energy imprint of the person he mimicked. Now that he possessed it, he could use it