Not Quite Dead (A NightHunter Novel) Read online

  The table? Holy crap, he'd forgotten that they were in public.

  Swearing, he broke the kiss and lowered her leg, tugging her skirt back down over her thigh. He kept his other arm locked around her lower back, and she didn't let go of him either. She looked up at him, beads of perspiration shining on her upper lip, her cheeks flushed.

  Unable to summon the willpower to resist, he slid his thumb over her lip, wiping away the droplets in a sensual move that seemed to crackle with intensity.

  She swallowed, and then cleared her throat. "Wow."

  Wow. It was one word, but it made him grin. His loquacious woman had been kissed into wordlessness. Yeah, he was good. Or at least, he was good with her. He wasn't going to lie to himself. She brought out a side of him that no other woman ever had. "I have a lot more where that came from."

  She took a deep breath. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" She slowly untangled her fingers from around his neck, sliding her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, as if she couldn't quite make herself break contact. "Well, that worked."

  "It worked?" He frowned, and then recalled that he'd kissed her to ground her when the memories had become too overwhelming. Funny how the kiss had gone from therapy to pure sex in a fraction of a second. Not a surprise, given the intensity of what was developing between them. "See? If you'd had me around to kiss you, you wouldn't have needed Tristan." As he said the words, a flicker of envy rippled through him. Yeah, the fact that she'd still been with Walter when she'd met Tristan made it apparent that there'd been no naked, sweaty nights between Jordyn and his brother, which was good. No, more than good. It was great news. But it was also apparent that she and Tristan had a bond, and his brother had been there for her when she'd needed someone.

  He wanted to be that guy for her.

  Shit. What? He wanted to be a go-to guy? No. He didn't. He wanted to be her hot sex guy. That was it. Nothing else. He didn't do the go-to-guy thing anymore.

  She laughed softly and finally stepped back, and he reluctantly released her. "As magnificent as your kisses are, I don't think they would have been sufficient back then. The grief was pretty debilitating." She sat back down in her seat, and he eased down across from her.

  He didn't want to be sitting across from her. He wanted to haul her into his arms and kiss her until neither of them could think. He wanted to slide his hands over her skin, and kiss his way across her body. He wanted to hear her breath catch as he touched her. He wanted to feel her hands in his hair. He wanted to taste the salty sweat on her body. He needed to hear her whisper his name as he sank between her thighs and—

  "It got better after the eighth time," she said, interrupting his thoughts. "I was able to manage it better."

  "Yeah?" He could barely remember what they were talking about, and he was a little cranky that she seemed to have recovered so completely from the kiss, while he was still fixated on how insanely good her mouth had tasted.

  "I thought I was over it, but apparently, it can still come back." She grimaced, and her gaze went to his mouth. "But apparently, it can be averted by a kiss from the right guy."

  Yeah, he was the right guy. He liked the sound of that. "I'm here for you whenever you need it."

  She laughed softly, clearly aware of his thinly veiled offer. "You never give up, do you?"

  He took a deep breath and finally leaned back in his chair. "It's just you. No other woman affects me like that. It's a little distracting."

  She met his gaze. "I know what you mean."

  For a long moment, silence hung between them, a silence beating with the pulse of desire and need.

  After a moment, she cleared her throat. "It seems like the sheva destiny can be overturned by killing yourself eight times. After that, the compulsion fades enough that it's manageable, and you get a second chance at life." She spread her hands on the table. "So, that's why I owe Tristan. He gave me the chance to live, so I owe him everything. I have to make sure he's okay."

  "Yeah, I can see that. I like your loyalty to him. It says a lot about you. He chose well." It felt a little strange to be going back to simple conversation about his brother after that kiss. Had she really just turned it off? Because his jeans were so tight he wasn't going to get any breathing room in them until he took some time for himself to deal with it. Was it a woman thing, to be able to experience a kiss like that and then just turn it off? Because it sure wasn't a guy thing.

  She smiled faintly and began to swirl her straw around in her drink. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I know he sacrificed a lot to help me. I know what he endured."

  "Why do you think he helped you? I'm assuming you weren't romantically involved with him, given that you were still with Walter." He watched her toy with her drink. She was restless, and she wouldn't meet his gaze. Was she embarrassed because of her reaction to the kiss? Eric leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table as he studied her.

  "I don't know. I actually have no idea why he helped me." She still didn't look up. "I wasn't in any shape to ask. I'd kill myself, he'd resurrect me, and then I'd kill myself again. It was sort of a challenging time. Not a lot of opportunity for talking. I asked him once or twice, and he wouldn't tell me. So, I don't know."

  He said nothing, contemplating her story. He knew his brother well enough to know that Tristan would not have sacrificed himself for her without a significant reason. What was it? True love, or mind-blowing lust, might have been enough, but with those off the table...he didn't know. And how much damage had been done to Tristan as a result of saving her?

  She shifted restlessly, then finally looked up at him. "Just say it."

  He blinked, not sure what she was talking about. "Say what?"

  "That I was weak and selfish for going back to Walter after Tristan had warned me. That I was so weak that I killed myself eight times, forcing Tristan to sacrifice so much to save me. Because I was so selfish and pathetic, many people died, and now something terrible has happened to the man who saved me. It's my fault. Just say it. I know it."

  Shit. Was that what she thought? He leaned forward and took her hand.

  She immediately stiffened and tried to pull back, but he didn't release her. Instead, he ran his thumb over her palm, tracing the lines on her skin. He said nothing. He just touched her, an unrelenting caress that sent chills down her spine and spread warmth through her belly.

  After a moment, Jordyn sighed and stopped trying to pull away. She realized his touch felt good. More than good. She was unsettled by how incredibly amazing it felt to be touched by him. His skin was warm, and his touch was so gentle and intimate. She didn't want to be connected to him, or any man, ever again. His kiss had almost undone her, and now she wanted space, not intimacy. "Let go of my hand," she said.

  "You believed in the power of love," he said quietly. "How can you ever fault yourself for that? That kind of faith is all that keeps our world from crumbling into depravity and ruin." He continued to caress her palm in a sensual massage that made her belly tighten. Her lips were still tingling from his whiskers, and her nipples were still taut from being pressed up against his chest. She didn't want to react to him like this. She was here for Tristan, not to be cajoled into something she never wanted to get near again.

  "People died and suffered because of my choice," she felt compelled to point out. "My daughter died."

  He raised his gaze to hers. "People die and suffer every day, no matter what we do. Some who we love, some who are strangers. Most people live, die, and suffer alone. You walked through life making choices because you believed in love. That's bravery, Jordyn. That's the kind of thing that should make you hold your head up and be proud."

  Tears threatened in her eyes. "Love isn't good when it's stupid and naive, and results in people dying. If you don't understand that, then you don't understand love at all."

  He snorted. "Sweetheart, I know shit about love. I don't even know what the hell it is, let alone understand it. But I hear it in your voice and see it in y
our eyes, and I'll never condemn you for that. Ever."

  She bit her lip. "My daughter died at his hands. My best friend had her head torn off her body in front of me because I refused to see the truth about my relationship with Walter. I wanted love more than I was willing to be responsible." She shook her head. "It was unconscionable," she said. "I will have to live with that forever." She stared at their entwined hands, at the way his thumb was still caressing her palm. It felt so good that she wanted to cry. He knew what she was like, and yet he refused to judge her? He was wrong, but at the same time, it was such a gift.

  A gift that would tempt her into making bad decisions again. She didn't want comfort from him. She wanted space. She needed to keep her emotions under control, so that she never hurt anyone else again because she made a choice based on selfish emotions. "Let me go."

  He tightened his grip on her. "If you want me to let go of you, you're going to have to be the one to pull away."

  She swallowed, heat suffusing her cheeks at her inability to make herself pull back from him. "I don't want this. Not with you. Not with anyone."

  He met her gaze, his face so close to hers that she could see the auburn highlights in his whiskers from the dim light of the bar. "Listen to me, Jordyn. I lived with Calydons for a year. I know all about the sheva bond. It's stronger than the most powerful warrior. If you hadn't gone back to Walter, he would have come after you. It was inevitable that it would end the way it did. The bond is too strong, and the sheva destiny always wins. So, ditch the guilt, and instead, be proud of the fact that you did what you had to do and somehow survived after it was all over. Your mate wasn't disciplined enough to stay sane, and he wasn't strong enough not to run around murdering everyone, but you were strong enough to stay alive. He's the one who made the choice to kill, and you were the one who made the choice to defeat a destiny that has claimed thousands of women over the centuries. You impress me."

  Sudden tears filled her eyes, and she pulled her hand away, her heart aching from the kindness of his words. "Don't be nice," she said.

  "Why not? You want me to be an ass? Just because you blame yourself for what happened? Well, too bad. I don't agree, so you're not going to get me to vilify you and string you up by those sexy-as-hell ankles of yours."

  "No, it's not that." She saw the furrow in his brow, and realized he genuinely didn't get it. She sighed, trying to articulate a jumble of emotions so confusing she didn't even understand them herself. "Eric, I choose to love the wrong men. My dad. Walter. It leads to terrible things, and people dying. I don't want to ever get close enough to a man for those things to happen again." She gestured at him. "There's no room for love anymore. Don't you understand?"

  "Love?" He blinked. "I think you're impressive as hell, and I want to get you naked, but I'm not talking about love. I'm sorry if I misled you, but—"

  "I know you're not proclaiming love," she interrupted. How dumb did he think she was? She knew a man like Eric didn't do the love thing, but that didn't change her reaction to him. "But you tempt me," she said. "I don't know what it is about you, but you appeal to me on a thousand different levels. I don't want to be tempted. I want to be safe and alone. I want all the men in my life to be just friends. But you—" She gestured at his chest, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "You're so incredibly sexy that I don't want to be just friends with you. I want you to ravage me."

  His eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead. "I'm okay with that—"

  "Of course you would be. You're a guy." She poked him in the chest, pausing for a fraction of a second to marvel at his muscle tone, then glared at him. "But if it was simply hot sex, that would be fine, because empty sex can't hurt me, right?"

  He grinned. "Yeah, so you want to—"

  "However," she snapped, "when you're all nice and understanding, you wake up that side of me that I don't want to hear from. The one that makes me see you as more than a nice set of pecs, the one that reminds me that I'm a woman with emotions and vulnerabilities. So, be the arrogant jerk you were in the jungle, make lewd suggestions that annoy me, and stop being nice. Got it? Don't tempt me into becoming emotionally attached to you!"

  She finished her speech, and then realized she was standing up, still poking his chest, almost shouting at him. He was leaning back in his chair, a small, arrogant grin playing at the corners of his mouth, which made him look even sexier than when he'd been all nurturing and nice. "Oh, come on! Just stop it!"

  "Everything okay, Jordyn?" David's question jerked her attention back to the room, and she looked over her shoulder. The entire bar was watching her, and David was on his way over to them with a baseball bat, eyeing Eric like he was about to use him for batting practice.

  Oh, crud. She hadn't realized how vehement she'd gotten. "Yes, yes, it's fine." She hurriedly moved to put herself between David and Eric, but Eric moved even faster. One second, she was in front of him, and the next second, he was on his feet, shoving her behind him, and using his body to shield her from David.

  "Back off," he said, his voice a quiet menace as David approached.

  David stopped immediately, his fist tight around the bat. "Get away from Jordyn."

  A barroom brawl was not what she wanted right now. "Stop it, both of you!" Jordyn tried to shove Eric aside, but he didn't move. Damn the man for being built like a brick wall, for heaven's sake! "David, I was just venting. Eric's helping me find Tristan Hunter, and he's on my side. Eric, this is David Savoy, my best friend from childhood. He's just looking out for me because you look like a thug and I'm yelling at you. So, both of you, calm down!"

  Again, she tried to get past Eric, and again, he blocked her path with ease as he continued to trade hostile glares with David.

  Then suddenly, David grinned and lowered the bat. "She must think you're okay if she's yelling at you when she's not mad at you."

  Eric's frown dissolved, and he grinned back. "She insults me constantly."

  David nodded knowingly. "Does she tell you to shut up?"

  "All the time. Is that a good thing?"

  "It is when it comes to Jordyn. That's her way of telling you that she thinks you're hilarious, and you make her life better."

  Eric glanced over at her, and his right eyebrow went up. "So, you really are in love with me then? That's why you got all worked up?"

  Her cheeks heated up. "Oh, shut up." The words came out before she could stop them, and both men laughed.

  "Looks like you're all right, man." David held out his hand, and the two men shook hands heartily, instant best friends when they'd been ready to kill each other moments before. She scowled as they exchanged amicable greetings. She didn't understand how men could go from enemies to best buddies instantly. How could they be so sure they could trust each other?

  Sighing, she sat back in her chair, watching David's expression as he talked with Eric, who was grilling him about Tristan. David looked serious and interested, and not at all wary. David, who was so protective of her in high school that he'd beat up more than one of her dates for looking at her the wrong way, clearly sensed no threat from Eric...which made it all the more frustrating because she didn't want to be stupid enough to trust Eric or like him. Having David like him made it harder to be smart and keep her distance.

  After a moment, the men shook hands again. David turned away to answer a question from a patron at the next table, and Eric sat down in his seat, studying her with great interest. No longer was he all about languid sex, or the relaxed chumminess she'd seen with David. He was alert and interested. The expression on his face was almost curious.

  "What?" she asked.

  He cocked his head, studying her. "He's not the kind of person I'd have thought you'd pick for a lifelong best friend. He's too—" His body suddenly changed. He became rigidly tense, and sat up abruptly. He scanned the room, looking past her, as if there was something hunting her. "Let's go."

  "You want to leave?" At his nod, her chest tightened at his visible tension, unsure what ha
d suddenly put him on alert. She glanced at David as he started to head back toward the bar. "Okay, but wait a sec. David? Didn't you want to talk about something?"

  He hesitated, then his gaze flicked toward Eric. "Later."

  So he didn't entirely trust Eric after all? He trusted Eric with her safety, but not whatever it was he wanted to discuss with her? That didn't make sense. "David—"

  "Later," he repeated, with a meaningful shake of his head.

  Jordyn glanced at Eric, and saw he was watching the exchange very intently. He was still tense, but for the moment, he'd focused his attention on them. Chills rippled down her spine, and she suddenly felt claustrophobic. She didn't want to be that closely scrutinized by any man, but especially Eric. He was too intense. That was why she had connected so well with Tristan, because he was fun and easygoing, not some testosterone junkie with too much muscle. "Okay, fine. Should I come by tomorrow?"

  "No." David shook his head. "I'll call you. What's your cell phone?"

  She rattled it off to him, and by the time she was done, Eric already had her arm and was propelling her toward the door. Irritated, she twisted her arm out of his hold. "What's the rush?"

  "Do you hear it?"

  She shivered at the dark undertone of his voice. Her instincts fired on, and her skin prickled in sudden fear. "Hear what?"

  He shouldered the door open and stepped out into the dark night, pulling her with him. He shoved the door shut, and the night descended upon them. "Listen."

  Chapter 6

  The screen door swung shut behind them, clattering gently against the battered wooden doorframe. Eric's fingers were light around her elbow, and he scanned the woods around them, his gaze intent, and his entire body taut with readiness.

  The night was dark, the moon barely reaching through the thick tangle of trees ahead. Heavy dampness hung thick in the air, clinging to Jordyn's flesh. The parking lot was half-empty, and the remaining vehicles were mostly old pickup trucks, trying to hold together for one more day. Behind them, she could hear the hum of insects in the swamp, a buzzing that reverberated through the dark night. "Listen to what? The insects?"