Her gaze lifted to Des’s. “How?”
“I didn’t want to do it this way. Please believe that. But you were dying and—”
She cut him off, needing to know only one thing. “Did you do it just to save me, Des?”
“No. You know I wanted this, mi amor. You know I did.”
Relief washed over her and she smiled. “So instead of killing me as you thought you would, you saved me.”
“Yes,” he said, his hands sliding into her hair. “Now, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to make love to my woman the way I should have when I marked you.”
“I’d be upset if you didn’t.” His lips brushed hers, but a memory jolted her out of the moment, her hands going to his wrists. “The box!”
“It’s here and it’s safe,” he said. “And before you ask, the kidnapped woman is fine. Marisol did something to erase her memories. I’ll tell you more, after I make love to you.”
Her body relaxed, the concern over the box fading into desire. “Hmmm,” she said. “I think I can live with that.”
At Jessica’s request, Des waited on the bed for her. Apparently, two days of sleeping did not undo the female need to perform a beauty routine. Though he didn’t know why she needed to do anything to herself. She was beautiful as she was.
Part of him had feared her reaction to their mating, the fears of his past still lingering in the future. But deep down he’d known she wanted him as he did her. Still, digging out of the hole he’d climbed into so many years before would take some time. He barely knew the man anymore, but with Jessica’s help, he would rediscover himself.
Even right now, unfamiliar nerves crept through his system. He felt more schoolboy than grown man. Before Jessica, there had been plenty of women, enough to offer confidence in his ability to please his mate. But none had mattered; none had held his heart. Jessica was the one who mattered now. He was going to make love to her as she had never been made love to before.
As eager as he was for her entrance, nothing could have prepared him for the moment when she finally appeared, for the moment when she stepped into the room completely, gloriously naked. His breath hitched in his chest and with a hunger born of passion and love, his eyes slid over her lush curves, her pale skin. High, full breasts and rosy, peaked nipples. Sleek raven hair brushed her creamy shoulders.
But it was not her beauty that stole his breath. It was the message she was sending to him. Because Des knew she was telling him she was his, no barriers, no walls. She was his woman, his mate.
He rose from the bed and undressed, their eyes locked as he tore away all that remained to keep them apart. When his clothes were gone, he stood there for her to view, his body aroused, his own message clear. He was all hers—body and soul, man and Beast.
They stepped forward at the same time, closing the space between them as they had the other barriers. Des took her hands, leading her to the bed and urging her to sit on the edge of the mattress. He wanted to pleasure her, to take his time making love to her.
He went to his knees, parting her legs as he moved forward, between them. His hands caressed her sides and slid up her back; her nipples brushed his chest; her soft skin teased his palms.
Des slanted his mouth above hers, their breath mingling, his chest expanding with emotion. “I love you, Jessica.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he absorbed the words with the brush of his lips. Once, twice, three times. And then he claimed her mouth. It was a gentle kiss, slow strokes of their tongues, passionate and sensual. A kiss of a man reawakened, a man discovering true tenderness. Perhaps experiencing it for the first time ever. Because Des didn’t remember anything remotely similar to what Jessica aroused in him.
Slowly, his lips traveled to her cheek, her jaw, her shoulder. She moaned softly as he began an exploration of her body with his mouth. As he kissed her elbows, her fingers, the ripe red peaks of her nipples. He lingered there, molding her breasts with his hands as he licked and suckled.
As he trailed his mouth down her stomach, she leaned back on her hands, arching her spine as he teased her navel with his tongue. He could feel the anticipation and burn in her. Feel her desire for him to kiss her lower, more intimately.
When finally he trailed his tongue along the V of her body, she tensed, waiting, ready. Des pinned her in a stare as his fingers slid along the silky wet center of her core, the proof of just how ready she really was. Her lashes lowered for a moment before she cast him a sensual look. A look that only made Des desire her pleasure all the more.
He took his time, building up the tension, stroking her sensitive flesh with his fingers, long before he gave her what she really wanted. And when he finally drew her swollen nub into his mouth, she shivered and gasped. With only a few caresses of his tongue, she shattered into orgasm. Des vowed it would be the first of many this night. A night that would begin a life of pleasure for Jessica. Because he was devoted to his mate in all ways possible.
After hours of wonderful lovemaking with her new mate, Jessica followed Des into what he told her was Jag’s den, promising that a surprise awaited her. To her utter shock, her father was sitting with Jag, smoking a cigar. Judging from their laughter, they were bonding quite successfully.
The minute Senator Montgomery saw his daughter, he abandoned the smoke and conversation, rushing toward Jessica. She was quickly pulled into one of his bear hugs.
“What are you doing here, Dad?”
“Jag invited me out to see the ranch and talk a little business.”
“Business?” she asked. “What kind of business?”
Before he could answer, a beautiful blond female walked into the room holding the magical box. Jessica’s heart jumped with excitement as the woman placed the box on a coffee table. Diamonds surrounded gold, the jewels glistening in the sunlight that streamed from the nearby window.
“This is Karen, Jessica,” Jag said, motioning to the blonde. “My mate.”
“I thought she might be,” Jessica said, inclining her head. Only a few people could touch that box, and it made sense Karen would be one of them. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Karen said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” She waved at the jewel-covered box. “It hasn’t been opened. We thought both you and your father deserved to be present when it was.”
Jessica was surprised and pleased with their actions. “I don’t even know what to say.”
Des took her hand and pulled her to the brown leather couch in front of the box. They sat down side by side, and everyone gathered around them. In silent support, her mate was there for her, sharing this experience. The way it was supposed to be. She and Des, together.
As she studied the box, Des squeezed her hand. Her eyes narrowed as she noted the keyhole, shaped like a star. Her gaze lifted to find Jag standing directly in front of her, on the opposite side of the table. Ruby and emerald stones lined the solid gold lid. It was a gorgeous box, a treasure holding a treasure.
He squatted down and held up his hand, displaying the ring he’d shown her during their prior meeting. “The key.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered, her gaze lifting to Jag’s. “You weren’t supposed to find the box until you found Karen. You wouldn’t have been able to touch it.”
Jag’s lips hinted at a smile, as if he was impressed she’d discovered a secret he’d already been privy to. He reached down and turned the box to face him, inserting the ring. It turned the lock without hesitation, and he lifted the diamond-studded lid. Apparently satisfied with what he saw inside, he turned the box back to Jessica.
“That list holds the bloodlines that offer my men hope,” Jag told her. “Will you help us decode them? I suspect you will discover your family is indeed on that list, by the way. Just in case you were wondering.” He winked. “I have an excellent informant. Perhaps you’ll meet one day.”
Her chest swelled at the offer, at the amazing opportunity this was to complete her mother’s work. Unbidden, he
r thoughts went to Max, and she prayed one of those bloodlines indeed held his hope.
“Thank you,” Jessica said. “I’d have it no other way.” Her own destiny with Des formed a question in her mind, which she presented to Jag. “I assume those bloodlines represent mates to the Knights?”
“They do,” he agreed. “And our mates allow us to defeat the Beast within us so that we can become stronger and more capable of defeating the Beasts. And, thanks to you, their family names are now under our protection.”
Jessica’s father spoke then, his voice laced with a hint of emotion. “The journal will stay here as well. I believe your mother would want it that way.” He glanced at Des. “And she’d be glad to know you, and the journal, have a Knight of White to watch over you.”
Jessica took Des’s hand in hers, and before he knew her intentions, she placed his palm on top of the box. A small gasp resonated through the room and then a sigh of relief. The box was still intact. Jessica smiled. “He is indeed a Knight of White.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “In all ways possible.”
“Jessica,” Des whispered, his gaze locking with hers. In that moment, they shared a scorching hot stare that had her father clearing his throat and the rest of the room laughing.
Epilogue
A week after their mating, Des sat on the front porch of the ranch, Jessica by his side. Karen and Jag were with them, sitting in matching lounge chairs, telling tales of their recent travels. The feeling of fulfillment that Des felt with Jessica by his side was beyond words. And their love had offered hope to the rest of the Knights.
Karen’s soft laugh filled the air as she spoke of visiting Paris. “When the waiter brought us the wrong wine, Jag orbed to the cellar and got it himself. I was a nervous wreck over that.”
Jag chuckled and Des’s eyes locked with his old friend’s. A moment of understanding. Both knew these two women had changed their lives. Before Karen, there was no laughter in Jag. No happiness. Now, here they were, on the porch, changed men. Happy men.
“So Des, my man, any visions of the future you want to share?” Jag asked.
Jag spoke of Des’s new power—premonitions. Des laughed and gave Jessica a scorching look that made her blush. His last premonition had been rather intimate.
“Nothing I’d be willing to share,” he said, returning his attention to Jag. “So far I’m getting nothing that holds any significance in battle.”
“That power will develop as you are ready,” Jag assured him. “With time I’m sure your new ability will guide us in invaluable ways.”
“My father called, by the way,” Jessica offered. There had been concerns her father could be a target for the Beasts, so Jag had offered him protection. “He and Eva are getting along well. She’s filled his assistant position quite nicely, and he says she’s great with the public.”
Karen smiled a bit sadly. “Eva will take good care of your father. I really didn’t want her to leave, but she said she needed to do this. And if I didn’t let her, she’d be trying to charge the battlefield with the men.”
“This seems a good compromise,” Jessica offered. “I saw Eva with a sword. She can handle herself, but with my father, most likely she won’t have to.”
From the side of the house, Max appeared, walking toward his Harley, parked in the driveway. Des’s gaze connected with Jag’s. “He met with Salvador?”
Jag inclined his head, his expression grim. “He killed a human. There will be consequences.”
“But that human was evil,” Jessica argued.
Something about Max’s vibe wasn’t good. Des waved at him. “Where you off to, man?”
Max kicked a leg over his bike. “Nowhere good,” he said, settling onto the seat, offering nothing more. His helmet went on and he started the engine.
The sound of Max’s engine was the only noise for long moments. Everyone sat there, watching as he departed. Jessica broke the silence, her attention going to Jag. “What consequences?”
Jag’s expression held no emotion, no hint that would give away what would become of Max. “Nothing he can’t overcome if he’s willing to fight for it.”
“But he’s already fought so long and hard,” Jessica argued.
“He did save Jessica’s life,” Des added. “That should count for something.”
“Saving a human life is his duty,” Jag countered. “You know that.” Jag glanced up at the sky, Karen taking his hand in hers. “Everything has a purpose,” he added softly.
Everything has a purpose. Des took in those words, holding Jessica close, and silently vowing he would never let her go. She melted against him and he knew she felt what he did in that moment. Thankful for what they’d found. Thankful for this gift they’d been given.
Return of the Beast
By Lisa Renee Jones
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter One
Chris Evans. That had been his name. A name he’d tried to forget. A life he’d left behind. But he wouldn’t ever forget this day. Because today he had returned home, today he had returned to the place where he’d died and been reborn, an immortal Knight of White—a Demon hunter known only as Ryder.
Leaning against his black Chevy pickup, Ryder stared at the wooden stairs leading to the double doors of the small-town bar he’d visited that night—the night he’d been attacked by Demons. Rows of vehicles surrounded him, the full parking lot showed how busy the Double R Tavern was this night. Music poured from the doors and window of the popular nightspot with a blustering force extending beyond its panels. The plentiful crowd overflowed to the porch.
In the distance, thunder rumbled with ominous force, lightning flickering across the black sky, a scent of rain lacing the air. In a gust of wind, dust lifted in the air around his well-worn boots. Almost as if Mother Nature shouted a warning—beware of danger approaching. Of darkness beyond a storm. Darkness that mimicked the ache in his chest, the painful memories of the past that chased him night and day. He scrubbed his jaw, and told himself to go inside, that the ache would persist until he got this over with.
Those memories reached out to him, taunting him with a nagging insistence, as they had for weeks now. Reminding him of a night twenty-five years before in this very parking lot, when he’d been a man with a family, with people who had loved him, people he had loved.
Wrangling with his emotions, Ryder ran a hand through his thick, sandy-brown hair. Edgy still, he scrubbed his palms down the faded Levi’s he wore. Finally, he shoved aside his thoughts, pushing off the truck in the same moment, and charged toward the porch. Charged from the past into the present.
But halfway to the steps and counting, he drew to an abrupt halt. The soft sound of a female’s delicate voice lifted in the air, the impact of which set his nerve endings on fire. He swallowed hard against the intensity of the reaction, struggling to grasp how or why a simple voice could wreak havoc on his composure. But before he could delve deeper within himself, the voice sounded again, this time hinting at urgency, at a bit of fear—angry fear. Fear that spurred him into action.
Ryder followed the voice as it lifted in the air, traced the location to four vehicles down, behind a nineties-model Ford pickup. “Let go of her arm!” the voice demanded.
“Ouch,” another female said, a choked sob bitten back with the word.
Fighting back the unnatural instinct to pounce before evaluating, Ryder forced himself to stop, to assess the situation before acting. He crept to the vehicle’s edge, the nearby lights allowing him a decent visual of the scene unfolding. A brawny cowboy held the arm of an obviously distressed, petite blonde. A tall, leggy brunette stood in confrontation, her hands balled on her jean-clad hips. She didn’t even have to speak for him
to know that this was the one who owned the voice he’d heard moments before.
“I came to take her home,” the brunette declared, “and that’s what I am doing.”
The cowboy snidely rejected her claim. “She doesn’t want to go with you.” He ran his hand down the blonde’s hair, his touch possessive. “Do you Kelly?”
Fear radiated off the blonde. “No,” Kelly said, casting him a submissive, beaten look, and then turning her attention to her friend in explanation. “I…we just had a little spat. I shouldn’t have called.”
The brunette glared at the cowboy, dismissing the blonde’s statement. “I know you hit her.” Her voice was low, venomous. “And it’s not the first time. I’ve seen the bruises. I’ll call the police before I let her stay with you.”
Sarcastic amusement laced his bark of laughter. “Go ahead,” he said. “In case you didn’t know, I own this joint. And the good ole Round Rock Police Department enjoys their free drink privileges. Call them. See if it will do you any good. In the meantime, we’ll be inside enjoying ourselves.” He sneered. “You should consider having a drink. Might make you likable for once.”
The brunette didn’t appear rattled by the insult. She grabbed Kelly’s arm. “Come on. We’re going home.”
The cowboy shackled the brunette’s arms, and Ryder felt the flare of his temper launch him into action. He didn’t wait to introduce himself, he strode forward, intent on freeing both women. A heroic effort rendered unnecessary when the brunette landed a well-placed knee firmly in the cowboy’s groin. Instantly, the man doubled over with a loud grunt, and the women were freed. Ryder slowed his progress, felt the urge to laugh—something he would have considered impossible in this place, on this day. The urge quickly washed away as the cowboy lashed out.
“Bitch,” the man yelled at the brunette as she grabbed her friend and tugged. “I’ll make you pay for that.”