Rogue Soul (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 3) by Linsey Hall Page A

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    She clambered up the ladder to the roof to resume her vigil. But the storm had veered toward normalcy. Pounding rain, but no roiling black clouds.
    “They’re gone!” she screamed.  
    She thought Cam growled, and she watched anxiously as he turned the boat into another tributary like the one they’d visited the day before.  
    He pulled along shore, leapt down from the pilothouse, and tied the boat off to posts stuck into the bank presumably for that purpose.
    She climbed down after him, raking the wet hair off her forehead as she hurried toward the bunkhouse to stand beneath its shelter. Rain still pounded down, a cacophony against the tin roof. The din of animals screeching and howling returned, signaling that the threat from Otherworld was gone. She rubbed her arms, wishing that cold and nerves didn’t still skitter across her skin.
    The gods had already figured out she was gone. It’d only been two days. She’d been sure she’d have at least a few days more, long enough to make it out of the Amazon.
    She huddled against the exterior wall of the bunkhouse and waited for Cam to finish securing the boat. He was quick and capable. Rainwater gleamed on his flexing biceps as he yanked on the final line. Satisfied, he dropped it.
    Ana started when Cam whirled and stalked to her. He loomed over her and growled, “What the fuck were you thinking?”  
    “I can protect myself!”
    “I know that, damn it! But it doesn’t mean I want you to have to. If any of the gods had been with the boars, they could have snatched you and aetherwalked back to Otherworld.” He shook her, his rough hands tight on her arms.
    Normally cool gray eyes burned down at her, on fire with worry and anger. His lips were tight with rage, his hair plastered against his head, and he looked like he wanted to keep shaking her but never let her go. He was so handsome and so harsh that the sight of him stole her breath, a vise squeezing her lungs.
    He’d been afraid for her.
    “Damn you, Ana.” He crushed his mouth to hers, hot and hard, crowding her against the wall of the bunkhouse.  
    The heat and hardness of his body, such a contrast to the storm-cold air, forced a small noise through her lips. He thrust his tongue inside, releasing a groan that spoke of pleasure and pain.
    Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea. But she was unable to stop her wayward, selfish hands from running up the steel muscles of his chest. To test him. To feel him. To know the strength that pressed her into the rough wooden planks of the bunkhouse until they bit into the tender skin of her shoulders.
      But the pain only heightened the pleasure. And the fear. He was so big. Big thighs pressing to her own, big chest pinning her to the wall, big hands gripping her waist. So much bigger that she, a goddess, became a rag doll in his hands, his to mold.
    “Don’t ever fucking do that again,” he rasped against her lips before claiming her mouth again.
      Hard hands traced her sides, his strength and frayed control vibrating through tensed muscles and shaking hands. The fear and anger in his kiss only heightened the aching need that pulled at her.  
    He thrust one of his big thighs between her own, lifting her easily to set her atop it and drag her against him. His cock pressed into her belly, hot and branding. It was dirty and delicious and stole every rational thought from her mind.
    His big hand smoothed up her back to clutch her head, holding her steady for his mouth. His other gripped her ass. A wicked jolt streaked through her when he ground her against his thigh. It was as if he were determined to make her feel every part of him. Every part of his claim on her. Spikes of pleasure shot from her pussy through her body, leaving shivers in their wake.  
    He growled low in his throat—an actual growl—and it threw propane on the lust and fear and confusion that raged through her blood.

    Cam’s heart pounded against his ribs, so hard and loud he feared it would drown