Page 24 of Jordan

Chapter Nine

Nina plucked a pricklybriar from her hair and inwardly cursed the thorny vine it had come from. This section of jungle was thick with them. She knew it would clear but in the meantime, she had her fair share of scuffs and scrapes from them. She cast it aside and trudged onward.

Her mind wandered back to Jordan and she paused a moment, her chest tight at the knowledge he’d not only regretted what had transpired between them but that he’d run off, abandoning her in the process. When she’d sought out Manna she’d found out that Jordan had left the village, saying nothing to anyone. It was his choice. She’d refused to go after him, choosing instead to try to make her way home, even against the advice of a well-meaning Manna.

Manna had been kind enough to give her clothing and food for the journey. She even tried to offer to send guards to accompany Nina, but that wasn’t necessary. She’d moved faster on her own and was capable of protecting herself.

Nina had been raised on the planet, raised to understand the jungle and how to survive within it should the need arise. It didn’t mean she liked it. For as tough as she liked to pretend to be, she preferred the warmth and comfort of her own bed and the ability to soak in a hot bath over briars. She wasn’t a fan of having to catch and trap her own meals, either. Shifting forms and allowing the panther side of her to hunt for dinner was an option, but she felt drained and the cat lay dormant inside her—the first time in her life she could ever remember it doing so.

Spotting a clearing, Nina sighed, making her way to it. She took a seat upon a downed tree, her body aching. She was in great shape and shouldn’t be as exhausted as she was. A part of her wondered if her reluctance to continue onwards was due to Jordan being in the other direction. Did her body crave its mate and sense he wasn’t near? If so, she was screwed, because the guy wanted nothing to do with her.

The one man she truly wanted with all her being had, in the end, rejected her. It served her right. For so long men had been objects—a means to an end. Nothing more. She understood Pheebes’s pain and hated that she’d been the one to cause it. Now, as the one on the receiving end of rejection, she didn’t wish it upon anyone.

She’d been on the move for the greater part of six hours. The suns would soon set and the threat of the others attacking would increase tenfold. Knowing she’d have to keep moving once night fell, she lay upon the log and closed her eyes. Her intent was to get a thirty-minute nap to help combat the drain on her system.

When she awoke, it was to darkness and a rustling of leaves in her vicinity.

Her inner alarms went off, alerting her to danger. Something was close and its intent wasn’t friendly. She remained in place, pretending to be asleep, allowing her enemy to think her anything but a threat.

As she attempted to allow claws to emerge from her fingertips, she realized how little of a threat she truly was.

She tensed, focusing on her hand, willing her claws to appear. None did. It was as if her cat side was no more. While she could sense it there, deep down inside her, she couldn’t seem to slip back and forth with ease—or at all. It had always been second nature. Something was wrong. Something was blocking her ability to shift forms.

Knowing she was fodder for the taking, Nina rolled off the log—narrowly missing a blow from the enemy.

There was a snarl and a blur of movement. She came up crouched, looking around, trying to judge where exactly the enemy was. Even her senses were out of whack, refusing to give her accurate readings.

In a flash, something was charging her.

Muscle memory kicked in and she twisted out of its path, seizing hold of a piece of wood. She slammed it down on her attacker’s back and it shattered. That was a good sign. While she couldn’t call on her panther to assist, she at least maintained something close to her normal strength. Though, she could already feel the toll it was taking on her body.

She turned, knowing the enemy rarely, if ever, traveled alone. Growls and snarls seemed to surround her. She backed up, pressing herself to a tree trunk as she felt utterly helpless for the first time in her life.

Another shadow burst free of the tree line toward her and she prepared to give it her all…

As she stared into familiar green eyes, she tipped her head. “Jordan?”

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his breathing heavy. It was then she noticed the blood on his hands and forearm.

“No,” she whispered.

He put his body in front of her, and he held out a hand. Claws emerged from the ends of his fingers and a low growl rumbled as he glared into the darkness. “You messed with the wrong man’s wife.”

Confused, she put a hand to his back. “Jordan?”

He twisted and cupped her chin with his unshifted hand. His gaze locked on hers. “You scared the hell out of me. Never, ever do it again.”

“You left,” she stated, sounding so unlike herself that all she could do was blink up at him.

Emotions washed over his handsome face. “Because I hurt you, Nina. I forced you to accept me as your husband. I needed to think of how to fix this for you. I know you don’t want me, that you didn’t claim me back, regardless of what Manna says.”

She teared up and swatted his back. She’d have yelled at him for being so utterly stupid but the enemy picked then to attack.

Jordan spun around and met the threat head-on. She backed away, giving him room to do what he needed to. She’d never seen him in direct, head-to-head battle with one of the others. It was awe inspiring—the way he moved fluidly, twisting, turning, dodging, striking. Suddenly, the enemy was no more.

Nina glanced at the two pieces that had once been the threat and her stomach churned. She moved quickly towards a patch of fallen leaves and bent, positive she was about to be sick. Never before had something like that bothered her. In fact, she often found such a thing amusing, as twisted as it sounded.

Jordan was suddenly there, rubbing her back gently and pulling her hair from her face. He leaned, his body pressing to hers. “I don’t think the baby much likes all this violence.”

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