him and desire swamped him. He had not taken the time to fully heal himself and if he were to regain his strength he would need sustenance.
More than anything he wanted to find Juliette, to bury his body deep in the haven of hers, relieve the terrible pressure building with unrelenting madness in his body. He could almost feel her mouth gliding over him. He could taste her heat and spice, feel her soft skin beneath his fingers.
A sound shook him out of his reverie and the small cat went instantly still, crouching low high in the forest canopy. He heard a soft sound in the distance, muted by the natural sounds of the night. Insects hummed. The sap ran in trees. Bats dipped and wheeled in the air. Bushes rustled as small rodents dashed around looking for safety. Larger predators hunted. But the sound was human-and feminine.
Riordan remained still, allowing his senses to flair out into the night, scanning the area for intruders, for traps, for the identity of the human hidden a few miles from him.
Juliette. His heart accelerated. He shifted to his natural form as his incisors lengthened in anticipation. She was close, just ahead near the stream. He could hear the water bubbling over rocks and emptying into a pool of sorts. She had to be there, cooling her body from the heat of the jungle, from the fire raging out of control between them. When he was absolutely certain they were alone, with no one near them for miles, he began to make his way toward her, using the foliage for cover.
There was the smallest of hesitations.
Her voice was breathless, sensual. She was feeling the same heat, the same needs. Riordan was beginning to understand what lifemates were all about. He had been away from his people too long and he had forgotten the close bonds. He had forgotten whatever one lifemate was feeling, so did the other. Relationships were highly sexual and always intense.
He found his way to the small grotto where she rested. He sat above her, high in the trees, pleasure blossoming deep and wild just looking at her. She was so beautiful she robbed him of speech, of breath. He could look at her for eternity and never tire of it.
Chapter 5
Juliette lifted her hair from the nape of her neck and wiped the sweat gleaming on her body. It was very hot and her clothes were sticking to her skin. The moon's reflection in the deep pool shimmered with cool invitation. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse and allowed it to fall to her elbows.
Riordan's breath caught in his lungs. She shrugged the top off and tossed it to land on a large fern growing out of the boulders. Juliette dipped her hand in the cool pool and poured the water down the valley between her breasts. Her head was thrown back and her breasts jutted forward, high and firm and enticing in the moonlight. Her body was no girl's, but that of a woman, with generous curves a man could lose himself in. She looked a night temptress, a woods fairy, nearly insubstantial as the water ran down her soft alluring skin to her belly and lower still, disappearing beneath the darker material of her jeans.
His body tightened into a hard, painful ache just looking at her. Her hands were graceful as she pulled the pins from her hair and the thick braid tumbled down well below her waist. There was something terribly sensual about a woman unbraiding her hair, Riordan decided. His chest hurt it was so tight, his lungs burning for air. Her hair floated free, a mass of blue-black silk he longed to crush in his fingers, to bury his face in.
She crouched by the pool, threw water on her face. Droplets ran down her throat, down to the creamy swell of her breasts, and lay on her skin waiting to be licked off. Riordan shifted his weight in an attempt to ease the fullness of his clothes. He didn't dare warn her she wasn't alone: she would try to run from him, and it was necessary to find out the secrets she kept locked away from him.
A faint breeze fingered the leaves of the trees so that they glittered silver and black in the night. Her scent was ripe and feminine, an allure all its own. He felt a growl rising in his throat, the beast roaring for freedom. Temptation was a woman cooling the heat of her body there by the pool in the moonlight. Riordan sank his nails deep into the branch to keep from going to her. His head pounded, his blood thick and hot. Every movement she made was a seduction. And what the hell was she doing walking around half-naked all alone where any predator could come upon her?
Juliette rose with her lithe, sensuous grace, her breasts swaying in time with the seductive movement of her hips. He couldn't take his hungry gaze off of her. Honor and gentlemanly behavior were completely overridden by primitive possessiveness. She was his lifemate. She belonged to him. Her lush body was everything he could ever want. He wanted to start at the top of her head and kiss his way down to her toes, lingering in every intriguing shadow and hollow along the way. His gaze narrowed as he saw her look around, scrutinizing the trees and bushes before stepping up on the highest boulder. She lifted her face into the air and sniffed, as if scenting the wind. Apparently satisfied she was alone, she stepped back to the edge of the pool, her hands going to the zipper of her jeans.
Riordan bit down hard on his bottom lip, hoping the pain would distract him. He couldn't have looked away if his life depended on it. She tugged at her jeans. The humidity was high and the material clung to her skin, so she had to squirm and shimmy to get them over her hips and down her thighs. Her breasts jiggled invitingly as she did a little dance to rid herself of her clothes. Tight dark curls formed a vee at the junction of her legs, a tempting arrow to draw his attention. At once he caught her feminine fragrance, the call of woman to man. Her body was burning, catching fire from his thoughts. He was broadcasting his hunger far too loudly.
Juliette was very susceptible to his needs. Dark cravings ate at him, hardened his body and sent erotic images teasing his brain. She was there waiting for him, her body open for his, craving his with the same terrible need that could never be assuaged. He closed his eyes and thought about how it would feel to plunge inside of her welcoming sheath, hot and tight and wet, slick with need for him.
Juliette made a single sound of distress as her body reacted to the waves of sexual hunger, the lust rising in him, lust she'd helped to create with her blatant fantasies. Riordan drank her in through half-closed eyes, his lids heavy and his body on fire. He wanted to see her hands travel over her soft skin, taking the path his hands would take. Up her thighs, over her rounded belly, up her narrow rib cage to cup the weight of her breasts in his palms. He wanted her thumbs to tease and flick her dark nipples, bring them to a heated peak in anticipation of his hot mouth suckling strongly.
He could already taste her, feel the soft mound of flesh in his mouth. He needed to pillow his head there, spend the night lavishing attention on each breast, on the dark inviting nipples, yet it wasn't enough. He wanted to feel how hot she was. How wet. How much she needed his body deep inside of her. His palms itched to feel her thighs, soft and rounded with firm muscles. He would slide his palms upward, feel the heat of her entrance before widening her stance, wanting her legs open to him. Gently he would slide one finger deep inside of her. He actually felt fiery heat, slick and moist, and it nearly stopped his heart. He wanted more. Wanted to feel her body grip and hold, clamp tightly around his.
He couldn't bear the feel of his clothes another moment and he dispensed with them easily with a single thought in the way of his people. The small breeze instantly caressed his body, touching him all over, adding to his sensitivity. He wished it were her fingers wrapping around the hard length of him. His erection was full and heavy and merciless, a pulsing, throbbing pain he could hardly endure.
Juliette had never felt such unbearable lust. It rose up from the very depths of her being and consumed her. She had always known there was passion deep inside of her. The heat of the jungle made her feel sensual when others found it oppressive. She often felt sexy, even seductive around men, but never had she felt such building heat. It was uncomfortable and unsettling, an edgy pressure demanding urgent relief. Her breasts ached for the feel of his mouth. She didn't want a gentle lover, she wanted him to feel the same smoldering, dangerous passion welling up in her. She wanted an explosive joining, his hard body driving deep and mercilessly into her. She itched
