Page 23 of Fated Protector

I lean forward to press a kiss on that cold, wan face when his eyes fly open. But those aren't my Jack's eyes. His eyes are burning red, irises the color of blood, and where there should be white, there is only darkness. He leaps up at me, knocking me onto my back. All the air escapes my lungs, and I gasp while still trying to fight him off of me. He claws into me, ripping and tearing both clothing and flesh. His facial features twist and morph until he is simply a creature wearing a Jack mask. He opens his wide, grinning mouth, and a cold screech that sends my blood curdling fills the air and echoes off the trees. In the distance, I hear the gators snapping their jaws in time with my heartbeat.

"Please," I sob, over and over again. "Please." He grabs my arm, his claws ripping through my flesh, and his other hand covers my mouth. I scream against his hand, but it's no use. There’s no one to save me out here. I'm going to die.

And then an angry howl pierces the air.

I wake up from the dream with a start, my eyes meeting the darkness of the bookstore. But instead of the sweet release of my paralyzed muscles and the natural ability to scream openly, I'm still caught under the Jack monster. His teeth glint down at me in the darkness, and I realize that this is no dream.

I scream and scream until my throat feels like it's bleeding from the effort. It's no use. The sound is captured by the creature's clawed hand, and no one can save me now.

Then, there is another howl, one from inside the building. The door bursts open in an explosion of wood and metal, and there is Jack, his hair messy, his clothes rent with claw marks. He lunges at the creature on top of me, and as they touch, the monster loses Jack's image and becomes a cloud of writhing shadows. They roll and wrestle each other, knocking into the bookshelves and walls. Books fall to the ground, sending great plumes of dust into the air. A set of glass vials topple over, shattering into pieces one by one.

The creature emits another wailing screech, but Jack raises his hand in the air. For a moment, I swear I can see claws on the ends of his fingers. Then he brings it down swiftly, and the creature is no more. The black fog disappears instantly, leaving only Jack, panting and heaving in its wake.

Jack runs to me, scooping me up in one motion and holding me to his chest. His heart rate is so fast that I can barely discern one beat from another. He gulps in air, squeezing me tighter with every inhale, rocking me back and forth in his lap. He mutters something in another language, and every few moments, he presses a fervent kiss to my hair, my temple, my cheek.

This isn’t how it should be. After everything that's happened, the first time we touch each other like this shouldn't be in a moment of fear. We deserve more than this fog of fear and terror.

"What was it?" I ask, my fingers threaded behind his neck, stroking the loose curls at his nape.

"A Cauchemar," he says, shaking his head as if he can hardly believe it. "A nightmare monster. It got through the wards."

"That's impossible. Jean-Pierre said that couldn't happen."

Jack swallows and presses another kiss to my hair. "Unless something has happened to Jean-Pierre."

I let out a small gasp. I may have only spent a few hours with them, but that gentle giant has won my friendship, and I can't bear the thought of him being hurt in any way. "What do we do?"

He ignores the question and begins to nuzzle just under my ear. His breath is ragged but calmer than earlier. Still, he holds me as if I’ll slip away into nothing if he lets go.

Nuzzles turn into kisses, each press of his lips mapping out the length of my neck. I tilt my head back, wanting to give him access, but instead, he cups my face in his broad hands and kisses me.

The kiss is sweet and gentle, surprising after the high-adrenaline nightmare just a few minutes ago. I part my mouth, and his tongue slides in, slow and lazy, tasting and exploring me. I tighten my grip around the back of his neck, steadying myself, and he pulls back.

“Is this okay?” he whispers. I study his face, overwhelmed by the sheer emotion reflected back at me. There is a long cut down the side of his cheek, tacky with drying blood, and a bruise over one eye. We should stop. Jack is hurt and needs to be cleaned and bandaged up. But all I do is nod, and once again, I see that strange gleam of gold in his eyes, as gold as the full moon.

My nod is the crack of a starter pistol. We lunge at each other, kissing, biting, and licking away the fear and terror that has consumed us for so many days. He lifts me by my hips and repositions me until I’m facing him on his lap, my legs wrapped around his back. Already, I can feel his cock, long and hard, hot warmth against my own core, even through the fabric of our pants. I roll my hips, and he hisses, capturing my mouth again and growling against the kiss. His hands trail down my shoulders, and he palms my breast, teasing my aching nipple through the cotton of my shirt. I let out a half-whining noise, and he chuckles against my lips.

“What do you want, princess?” he murmurs, flicking the tip of his thumb against the sensitive point. I jolt at the spark it sends through me, and my hips grind against him once more.

“I need–I need–” I can’t finish the sentence. I’ve never felt arousal like this before, a primal need that frightens me in its intensity. I arch my back against his steady hand, and he thankfully gets the message. He reaches for the hem of my shirt, and with a swift movement, he yanks it over my head. My bra follows seconds later, and at last, he can grab my breasts; there is only warm skin between us.

His palms are slightly callused, and the back-and-forth tease between smooth and rough skin against my nipple has me keening in pleasure. I claw at his shirt, desperate to feel his chest, even though he has to remove his hands from me to undress. The rent noise of a ripped seam accompanies the motion, but at last, I’ve got his chest all to my own. I run shaking hands over his chest, tracing the muscles, following the trail of dark hair that leads to his waistband and the paradise below. I cup him through his jeans, and his groan sends liquid heat dripping into my panties.

“Not here, Anna, not here,” he mutters, panting as I stroke the bulge in his pants. “We’re not ready.”

Not ready?What a peculiar thing to say. Judging by the state of his cock and my panties, we are damn ready. I grip him tightly, and he roars before flipping me over onto the floor. Luckily, one of the blankets from the cot is there, thrown off in the throes of the attack. Not that it matters. We are so far gone that bare wood would be just as welcome.

The frozen feeling of the Cauchemar’s attack comes over me for a moment, and I tense. Jack stops instantly, lifting his head from tasting my skin. “Cher?”

I lift a hand and trace the line of his soft beard. “Make me forget, Jack.”

He nods in understanding and begins to kiss a trail from my neck downward. His tongue is masterfully wielded, sucking and teasing my breasts. His hand slides down my belly and to my jeans, where he unhooks the button and zipper. His long fingers dip inside, past the cotton of my damp panties, and into my slit. I tense at the sensation, but it’s a good tension, one that promises to ramp up and explode any moment. He teases circles around my clit, coming close but never touching it before moving lower.

“God, princess, you’re so wet,” he says, biting his bottom lip and thrusting against my thigh. I clutch onto his hips, holding him still enough that I can undo his pants and release him from his boxers. I pull his jeans down just enough that I can grip his reddened length, and he trembles at my touch.

“You feel that?” he murmurs into my ear. “That’s all because of you. You’re all I want, all I’ll ever want. My cock is yours from now on. And this–” he swirls his finger into my hot wetness before thrusting a thick finger inside me. “This is all mine.”

I cry out as he moves his finger in and out, trying to focus long enough to stroke his cock in the same rhythm. I feel deliciously full with just one finger–and then he adds two, and then three. His fingers work me, faster and faster, hooking to touch that perfect spot inside. My entire body begins to tense, my back arching. Then he touches his thumb to my clit with the perfect pressure, and I’m gone, skyrocketing as my body releases in an explosion of white-hot pleasure.

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