Julian's Jeopardy

Chapter Two

Jules tensed and yanked furiously at his chains. Whatever the woman had done to him worked, because his body, if not his mind, felt at full strength again.

Though still dazed, he no longer ached. He had so many questions, but his beast demanded this woman get to safety. For all he knew, she was Montaña's newest way to get under his skin, but after all she'd done for him, after seeing the bright, shining white of her aura, Jules didn't much care.

“Stop. You'll hurt yourself,” she hissed. “I'll be back when I can. Don't tell anyone I was here.”

The sheen in her eyes froze him. Those glorious blue eyes made him want to do whatever she said without question. And that worried the hell out of him.

He slowly nodded. “I won't say a thing.” But he was talking to her back as she punched in a code and rushed out the door. He swore again as the damned thing made too much noise when it closed and locked behind her.

The rapid patter of her footsteps faded while heavier, familiar noises returned.

The changing of the guard. It would have made more tactical sense to never allow his door to be unguarded, but the assholes running the place insisted on daily briefings for everyone together in the central courtyard. He'd heard a few mention it in English—rogue Circs not from around here, obviously.

Thanks to the mysterious Sheridan, he felt better than he had in days, weeks, hell, a month. Who was she, and how had she healed him like that? Had he hallucinated and finally just healed himself? Though Jules normally healed quickly, whatever daily injection Silva gave him to keep him placid also affected his regenerative powers.

But nothing Silva had done should have accounted for the release of a building mating heat. With just the soft touch of her hands, Sheridan had alleviated that worry. Or had she? Had Silva's drugs somehow muted his instinctive need to mate?

God, he had so many questions. He'd been anxious about the mating heat as his time—what felt like forever—in this shit hole progressed. The mating heat might be the one thing that could break him. Because without ease, he feared he'd slowly turn rogue, unable to think about anything but sating his sexual and violent appetites.

His team's sanity had made them unique among the many sailors infected with the Circe serum so many years ago. The tight bonds they shared enabled them to overcome the madness that affected so many others. Yet the mating heat still struck them. Despite the bonding of Fallon and Olivia, and then Hayashi and Morgan, the entire team continued to need Circ sex. Only a Circ could satisfy the carnal needs that built inside them.

That Sheridan had eased his hunger in one large orgasm could mean several things. Her healing “power,” whatever the fuck it was, worked on Circs. Or his many injuries had drained him to the point that the mating heat hadn't hit, and his erection had been a response to the shy sex kitten who'd healed his hurts so generously. Or maybe he'd lost his fucking mind.

The dreaded haze of awareness he'd been forced to exist within returned, but this time, his distance from reality comforted. Gifted with a delicious fantasy, he allowed himself to linger on her memory.

As the minutes turned into hours, he couldn't stop dwelling on his visitor.

Sheridan.

Was she real? If so, who was she? And why was his beast so damned fascinated with her?

She'd been so small, fleshy, and so incredibly feminine that he could feel himself getting hard again just thinking about her. The woman wasn't tall, maybe five-four or five-five. Her hair was a rich auburn color, a thick mane of red he wanted to see spread over his belly as she went down on him. Sheridan had a woman's build, the kind men dreamed of and other women secretly envied. Not slender, not fat, but curvy, with ripe breasts and an ass made for fucking. He'd noticed everything about her the minute she'd stepped into his cell.

And such heat. Her touch was soft, healing, full of fiery energy that pulled at his beast and made him salivate to taste. He'd noticed her full tits, those hard little nipples begging for a bite. Would they be as red as her hair, or the soft peach of her blush? Such creamy, fair skin contrasted with the dark richness of her hair. Yet he hadn't seen any freckles, nothing to mar that smooth, innocent flesh.

To say nothing of her angel's face. A mixture of innocence and sultry beauty, a soft allure that lingered long after she'd gone. Jules had slept with a lot of women in his time. Even before he'd turned Circ, he'd had a voracious appetite.

In the course of his years, he'd never seen a woman to match Ava Belle's beauty. Mrs. Sharpe's assistant had a mouth that wouldn't quit, but her beauty couldn't be denied. The dark-skinned woman had a face and body that could have made millions had she bothered to show them off.

Yet Ava had never intrigued him as much as the mysterious Sheridan did. And he couldn't help wondering why.

If the woman was in fact working for Montaña, then Jules was screwed, because he'd be damned if he could stop thinking about her.

Even when Montaña arrived the next day full of questions and rage that Jules had healed so fully and so quickly, even when he gave Jules a stronger beating despite Silva's emphatic screams to stop, Jules could only think of Sheridan and what she'd make of his new bruises. His beast grunted under Montaña's brutal fists. He didn't flinch when Silva shoved a heavy dose of another burning drug into his arm, nor did he fight when Montaña spoke in detail about Jules's team, about things he shouldn't possibly know.

Jules made a mental note, but his thoughts, and those of his beast, remained solely on the curvy redhead he couldn't seem to quit thinking about.

The Croatan National Forest, North Carolina

Frederik Gunnar Tersch ran his hands through his hair and growled as he paced in the large conference room of Circ central. He knew he probably looked like the Viking his team often called him. His blond hair had grown longer, and as he ran his hands through it, it probably resembled an unkempt pile of straw. At six-six, he normally looked down on everyone around him. But when he grew so out of control, he inadvertently let the beast slip. And now he'd gained a few more inches, enough to make the women around him nervous.

“Tersch, sit your ass down. You're making me dizzy,” Jesse Fallon growled, as anxious as the rest of them. His mate, Olivia, worried her lower lip, the sexy gesture one that usually would have Tersch teasing her, but right now, he had nothing to say.

He didn't care how dizzy Fallon felt. Jules, their team leader, the man who could always be relied on, a man he fucking loved but would never in a million years admit the emotion to anyone but himself, had been missing for six hellacious weeks.

“Gunnar, it'll be okay,” Ava murmured and sat next to Mrs. Sharpe, their boss.

Ava's soft hazel eyes looked at him with worry. Her light brown skin, which never failed to enthrall him, because it was so rich and so much darker than his own, seemed to ripple, as if she too fought a beast inside her. His Ava, a human woman he had no right to think about as much as he did.

But even she couldn't make this right. He lusted after the female with a hard-on that never ended and with an affection that had really started to concern him.

But she could never fill Jules's shoes. Hell, no one could.

“No, it won't be okay, Ava,” he said through gritted teeth, not wanting to take his frustrations out on her. He couldn't sit still. The urge to destroy had been building for days, weeks, but he'd kept ahold of himself. For Jules, because Jules would need the team intact to get him out of whatever hell he'd fallen into.

The anger, the rage, continued. He knew he had to contain it. While the others on his team had psychic abilities that helped, his harmed. Fallon could read minds; Olivia, emotions. Hayashi could see glimpses of the future—though Tersch still wasn't sure what the hell his mate Morgan Reynolds could do, other than annoy the piss out of him. And then there was Mrs. Alicia Sharpe, their boss. She was a mystery no one had solved, even after eight months of working for—not with—her.

“Alicia.” He snapped her name, never one to give respect where it hadn't been earned. Everyone else called her Mrs. Sharpe, at her insistence.

The petite black woman had beauty and a presence no one could deny. Too old for him, and too classy, he admitted, glaring at her calm presence as she sat in a black business suit, those damned pearls she never seemed to be without at her neck and earlobes. Just once he'd like to catch the damned woman in pajamas or sweats. But no, she never appeared with a hair out of place or dressed in anything not fucking appropriate.

Mrs. Sharpe sighed. “Gunnar, please. I know you're upset, but—”

“Upset? My team leader has been missing for six fucking weeks, and we're still sitting here with our thumbs up our asses!” he roared and felt his entire body pulse with the need to fully change, to fit into the monster that knew just what to do with all the hurt and anger. Becoming a Circ had only increased the strength of his inner beast. Whereas the others had mental abilities, Tersch's manifested themselves physically. A traumatic incident in his past had changed him, enabling him to channel his energy into raw strength. Even when not in his Circ form, he could do some serious damage.

Tersch tried to control himself but had a hard time thinking past the haze of fury swelling in his blood. Jules needed him. Right. Now. “Why the hell are Morgan and Hayashi in Brazil when they should be here, working with us to find Jules?”

“Easy,” Fallon said.

“Fuck easy! I should be there. Let me search the jungle. I guaran-damn-tee I'll find Jules or beat the answers out of those who know where he is.” Jules would have calmed him down. Jules would have known how to handle him.

Olivia answered him quietly. “You know why they're there, Gunnar. Kisho had a vision of himself and Morgan with Jules. We just have to be patient.” She put out a hand, and he jerked back, out of reach of the empath.

He was sick to death of being patient, of waiting, of never being in control when it mattered. He was failing Jules; he fucking knew it. Just like he'd failed other important people in his life. He refused to let it happen again. “I'm going,” he announced and turned on his heel.

Fallon darted in front of him to block his way and ducked the fist Tersch threw.

“Gunnar, stop,” Olivia cried.

He wanted to, but he couldn't.

“Hell. Ladies, get out of here,” Fallon yelled as he avoided another blow and shredded through his clothes to transform into a larger, predatory beast with claws, fangs, and toughened skin.

Tersch was barely aware of it, but his beast also rose swiftly to the surface. He didn't want to fight, but he had to. He needed this as much as he needed to breathe.

He ripped off his shirt and changed fully into his beast, stretching the elasticity of his pants. “I'm my own man. I go where I want,” he growled, worry for Jules pushing him to act. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the women leave the room.

“This is for your own good,” Fallon muttered.

“Fuck you.” Tersch tried to go around him, anticipating Fallon's tackle. When the smaller Circ launched himself, Tersch caught him and threw Fallon to the ground, through one of Mrs. Sharpe's precious antique chairs, which smashed into pieces.

Fallon hit hard but rebounded with speed. The bastard could take a hit, and Tersch's beast roared at Tersch to respond. They rolled, punched, kicked, and bit.

But instead of releasing his anger, the emotion boiled, increasing Tersch's anguish. Buried under his beast, he knew he was fast losing control. Not good, not good at all, and not what any of them needed right now. But he couldn't stop himself.

“You're not going anywhere.” Fallon huffed out a breath and telepathically sent him support. “Tersch, come on. Rein it in. You can do it.”

“Let me go!” Tersch tried to shrug out of Fallon's grip, but the tenacious Circ clung like a burr.

Anger pushed through Tersch's beast, calling forth the berserker that nothing could stop. He grew muscles on top of muscles and increased in mass. On top of that, he felt a burning fury to decimate everything in his path and intended to make good on his desire. His eyesight changed, seeing in heat patterns as the scent of his prey—Fallon—grew stronger.

He shoved Fallon back so hard into the wall that Fallon broke through the drywall and dented the reinforced steel behind it. Fallon stumbled groggily to his feet. Seeing his adversary weakened, Tersch took another step closer and drew back his arm.

Hands caught him, and he turned to attack.

Only Fallon's quick shove pushed Tersch away and saved Ava from taking a fist in the face.

Her eyes wide, she stared at him in shock, and the fury Tersch had been feeling faded under a blinding wave of shame. Fists striking, screaming. A frail female falling, moaning his name before she hit the ground, hard. Then the scent of death, all too close…

“Gunnar?” Ava took a step closer.

Horrified he'd nearly struck her, Tersch scrambled back. He turned to leave when he suddenly stumbled. Confused and heartsick he'd nearly hurt the woman who meant the world to him, he wanted nothing but to disappear. Instead, he fell to the ground.

“Easy, Gunnar. You just need to sleep this off,” Mrs. Sharpe said, her voice soft, soothing.

He glanced up to see her holding a dart gun, her expression concerned. He wanted to crawl into a hole and die. His worst fear had come true. He was nothing more than a monster, an abusive asshole like his father. Now Jules would suffer even longer because they'd never let Tersch help find him.

“Should have used real bullets,” he mumbled before he blacked out.

Sheridan tugged on the spaghetti strap of her thin camisole and stared without seeing at the large bed in her room. She had a feeling tonight would prove as frustrating as the past few nights had been. She couldn't sleep, and she didn't need to wonder why.

In the past two weeks, Sheridan had only managed to visit Jules twice more.

He never seemed quite aware of her, questioning her existence as if he thought himself dreaming. She thought that might be a good thing, considering his poor state of health. Better he be nearly unconscious than to be fully awake and suffering so much. Damn Ricardo!

Both times she'd seen Jules, he'd been beaten so severely, she'd cried as she healed him. Since she'd learned of his existence, she'd spent her time planning and plotting. With Pedro's help, she'd managed to copy, encrypt, and send her research to her family for later study. She'd thoroughly deleted her project from the compound's computers, pretending to continue her work on basic botanical studies any third-year student might access from a public university. Luckily, no one seemed overly interested in her research.

Sheridan couldn't wait to leave. And thanks to Pedro, she soon would.

He'd been a font of information concerning the compound, once she'd found the nerve to question the truth about the place. It wasn't the professional lab she'd envisioned when she'd first started working here. The scientists, if she could call them that, experimented on people. Or so it was rumored. She only wished she knew more. But avoiding Ricardo remained her top priority lately, especially concerning the information she'd recently overheard.

Apparently, Ricardo wanted her. Sheridan Keyes, quiet, unassuming, overweight botanist, had somehow managed to outshine Elena Dominguez, a supermodel and Latina hotbod. Who would have guessed?

She swallowed hard, trying not to imagine Ricardo's cold, calculating stare or the way he sometimes focused on her mouth or breasts, as if envisioning her naked.

She trembled, but as usual since meeting Jules, the very word “naked” immediately conjured up images of the sexy but bruised prisoner. Her tremble of disgust quickly turned to one of arousal. No matter how much she told herself not to think about the poor man that way, she couldn't help it. Jules could look at her lips or breasts any way he liked. And how messed up am I that I’m turned on by a guy who doesn’t even believe I’m a real person? Not only is he out-of-my-league hot, but he’s in pain and doped to the gills, and I’m lusting after him. Pitiful, Sheridan. Just pitiful.

Fixing him, despite the drugs he'd been given, took a lot of energy.

Fortunately, she had cured him without experiencing that odd, out-of-control desire for him while doing so. Seeing him bloody and beaten cured most of her arousal.

And the drain on her power, mingled with the ever-present threat of Ricardo so near, took the zing right out of her while she healed him.

Jules had promised her that he continued to remain mute about her participation in his recuperation. But he still wouldn't tell her why Ricardo was holding him, and he'd cautioned her not to trust anyone else with what she'd done.

To her surprise, she trusted him. She'd never told Pedro that she'd seen him more than that first time.

Sheridan worried about her safety. She still planned to escape, and with Pedro's help, she would. But she couldn't leave Jules behind. She wouldn't. She glanced again at the bed sitting in her spacious bedroom. While she would try to sleep on a thick mattress, poor Jules dangled from iron chains welded to a stone wall. In a freakin' cave.

“Sheridan, dear, how are you?”

She started, then cringed as she slowly turned around. Ricardo had entered her quarters unannounced. He'd never done that before. She hadn't been expecting anything but to crawl into bed, and she wore minimal clothing: a thin camisole, a pair of boxer-style shorts, and her grandfather's ring around her neck on a chain—a precious family heirloom that meant the world to her. She normally kept the ring in her jewelry box, but at night she liked it close. A piece of her past in a place she hoped wouldn't be her future for much longer.

He stared at her with hunger in his eyes, and she crossed her arms over her chest, unnerved. She hated that look on his face—the one that told her he clearly envisioned her sans clothes.

“Oh, um, hi, Ricardo.”

He drew closer, his gaze roaming her face and settling on her lips.

She refrained from doing anything that might provoke him, instinctively sensing that to show fear or unease would only spur his interest. “I was just getting ready for bed.”

“Hmm, that's too bad. You see, you and I, we need to talk.” He pounced, slamming her backward and down onto the bed and settling the full force of his much larger frame on her, surprising her with the speed of his action. To her disgust, he ground an erection against her belly.

Dumb, dumb, dumb. She should have been prepared for this. The years of gifts, the subtle yet increasing sexual interest in his glances, the avid interest she always wished didn't exist, Pedro's warning that Ricardo wanted her, not Elena.

She'd thought she'd have more time before confronting him. Hell, she'd hoped that she might escape before that came to pass. Now she had to deal with him and pray she could survive the fallout.

“You've been a naughty girl, Sheridan. Seeing Julian in secret, hmm?” He leaned closer, his eyes black with lust. “I bet the sight of you threw him into an uproar. That fine ass, those round tits. You're a tasty little treat, aren't you, cara?”

“R-Ricardo, I don't… Why are you doing this? What do you want?”

“Ah, what do I want?” He used one hand to pin her wrists above her head, his grip so strong, she felt bruised. With his other hand, he cupped her breast and squeezed.

She wanted to gag. Everything about him was wrong. His touch, his scent, the sight of his cruel gaze as it ripped past her defenses.

“I want to fuck you, chica. Hard, fast. To plant a baby in that belly. You're perfect for me. With your brains and beauty, and my strength, we'll have the perfect children. Just think of how incredible my sons will be, able to heal themselves whenever they wish?” He grinned at the shock in her eyes. He knew. “I'm tired of waiting. It's time.”

Stunned, Sheridan couldn't speak. She turned her head when he would have kissed her and felt his mouth on her cheek before he slid it to her neck and sucked hard, bruising her. She shuddered, wanting nothing more than to escape.

“You have Elena,” she managed when he leaned back again. “Why would you want me?”

“She satisfies my cravings when they get too much. But every man must continue his line. I knew when I first saw you that you would be the one to bear my sons. You're so special, Sheridan.”

Her heart raced in panic. How had he found out what she'd kept a secret her entire life?

“Hawkins healed well after your visits, though his mind is not what it should be. But we have Manoel to thank for that.” He chuckled. “His concoctions would keep an elephant down. I'll be surprised if Hawkins can remember his own name in another month.”

“Hawkins?”

“Julian, your naked friend, the one you like to play with, no?” His smile turned mean.

How could he know that? Pedro had told her there were no cameras or surveillance equipment at the caves. Unless Pedro had lied. That, or Ricardo hadn't told Pedro everything. God, she didn't know who to trust anymore.

“I don't know what you mean.” She tried to move out from under him, but he only shifted, fitting himself closer into the vee of her thighs.

“I think you do. You put your hand around his cock, and you milked him. Like an animal, you dragged his cum from his body.” His raspy breathing increased. “You will like what I do for you, my sweet. You'll take it and love what I give you. Maybe then you'll heal me too.”

She struggled and yelled out, but Ricardo slammed his mouth over hers. She bit his tongue when he tried to invade her mouth.

“Dios. A cat with claws, eh? Good, I like it a bit rough.” Before he could follow through with more mauling, though, Elena's scream of rage interrupted them.

“I'm sorry, but you said to let her through,” one of the guards said from behind her.

“You filthy, dirty whore! He's mine! You leave him alone!” As if she could move with the monster on top of her. “Elena, help me,” she cried.

“Fuck you,” Elena spat. She turned teary eyes toward Ricardo. “I'd do anything for you. But her? This bitch? She's not good enough for you.” Ricardo rolled off Sheridan and laughed. He waved Elena over. “Come here.

Let's show her what she's missing.”

Sheridan scrambled off the bed and tried to run out the door, but the guard stopped her. One of the large ones—who liked to growl when she passed by—the guard gripped her arm tight and held her close, sniffing her hair. She trembled.

God, how much worse can this nightmare get?

Ricardo pulled Elena to him and shoved her on her hands and knees on the bed, facing Sheridan. “Watch, Sheridan. This is how I fuck a whore. This is how she pleasures me, the way a woman is meant to pleasure a man.” To Sheridan's shock, Ricardo yanked down his trousers, exposing himself, and pushed Elena's dress up over her thighs. Then he shoved himself inside her, screwing her right in front of Sheridan and the guard who held her.

Sheridan tugged at the guard's arm and glanced away, wanting to be anywhere but there. This isn’t real. It’s all just a bad, bad dream.

“Make her watch,” Ricardo commanded and grunted as he pounded into Elena.

The slaps of flesh against flesh and the slick, sucking sounds of their coupling made Sheridan ill.

The guard gripped her chin and turned her face, forcing her to watch the carnal display. “Watch, Sheridan,” he said, the words rumbling from his chest. “Let him show you how good it can be.” Under his breath, he whispered, “Play along.

Don't make me hurt you.”

Ricardo continued to slam into Elena while his gaze remained on Sheridan.

She'd never considered herself a prude, but seeing Elena being taken like a possession, seeing the sick, dirty rutting of a man who considered women no more than his playthings, pushed her to escape. Oh God, why didn’t I leave sooner? She should have left when she realized there was more going on here than a legitimate lab. And finding Jules chained up in the cave? Why had she waited so long to go?

She didn't need a perfect plan; she just needed out of this room right now!

Sheridan closed her eyes and made herself go limp, pretending a faint. The moment her guard leaned down to catch her, she slammed the back of her head into his face. He swore and released her, giving her time to run from the room.

Racing through the corridors of the housing building, it took her a moment to realize no one followed her and that the place was empty when it should have had at least one or two guards stationed at intervals throughout the halls.

She'd just reached a turn when a hand shot out and dragged her into a room.

She screamed and felt dizzy from relief when Pedro urged her to be quiet. “We don't have much time. Come on.”

“Pedro!” She threw herself into his arms, feeling comfort in his paunchy build as he tentatively hugged her back.

“I'm so sorry, Sheridan. This is my fault.”

She blinked away tears and stepped back. Pedro refused to meet her eyes.

“Pedro?”

“He made me watch you all the time. There are cameras everywhere. I didn't want to, but no one argues with Ricardo. The things he does, what he's planning to do to you…”

She shook her head, bewildered. “I don't understand.” She didn't want to understand.

“Never mind. We don't have much time. I managed to divert the guards and locked Ricardo and the others in your room, but not for much longer. You have to leave, now.”

“But I don't even know where I am.”

He handed her a backpack. “Here. There's a map, compass, some food, and water. I didn't pack any shoes or clothes, though.” He flushed as he looked her over.

“I-I didn't think this would be necessary so soon.”

“You're coming with me?” she asked, letting the analytical part of her mind take over. Her safety and Jules: both overriding priorities at the moment. The ring was too noticeable around her neck, and she worried that if she suffered any more rough treatment, the chain would snap. She removed it and tucked it into the pack for safekeeping.

She put the backpack on. Now to get out of here and find Jules.

Pedro sighed. “I can't come with you. I need to stay behind to give you more time. I can disable some more of the cameras and mislead him in the wrong direction for a while. Besides, he'll never know it's me. I placed the blame on Elena and covered my tracks too well.”

“But Elena—”

“Is a bitch,” he snarled. “The woman is jealous of you and always has been. She tells Ricardo everything you do. She hates you with the same passion she has for the monster I work for.” Pedro checked his watch.

Her thoughts raced. “I can't leave without Jules.”

Pedro sighed. “I knew you'd say that. Go now and use this to free him.” He handed her an iron key. “Sheridan, if you aren't out of here soon, you'll never leave.” She hugged him again. “I wish you'd come with me.” But Pedro would never be able to keep up, not as out of shape as he was. And as he'd admitted on more than one occasion, he wasn't one for roughing it.

“You'll have to walk a few miles before you find a village, but there's money in the pack as well. You can buy a ride back to the coast if you push.” He grew silent.

“I love you, Sheridan.”

“Oh, Pedro.” She sniffed. She'd been so wrapped up in her work, she hadn't noticed. But now that she thought about it, Pedro's shy smiles and attentive consideration made more sense. She felt torn. He'd had a crush, and now he thought he loved her. And he might very well die because of it. She blinked back tears. God, he could die for her. For all that he worked for Ricardo, Pedro was a good man. And she felt terrible for never noticing.

He coughed. “Go. Down the southern hallway and outside the main buildings.

Stay in the shadows, then grab your friend and leave. Follow the trail I marked on the map. But hurry.”

She kissed him on the cheek and left. Following his instructions to the letter, she didn't encounter anyone on her way to Jules's cell. Once inside, she ignored everything but freeing him. And just her luck, he had to be in the worst condition she'd yet seen him. She had no idea how he remained standing.

He stirred when she finished unlocking the last of his manacles. “Sh-Sheridan?”

“Dammit. Don't move.” She put her hands on his chest and pushed her energy into him, fast and hard. Light-headed yet filled with lust, she stumbled back and would have fallen if he hadn't caught her. She didn't think she'd given him enough healing, but it was all she could manage and still remain standing.

“What the fuck?” He held her wrist up. “Who did this?” Already she felt the bruises along her wrists and arms. The minor hurt paled next to the burning desire racing through her body for Jules. Man, I am so insane to want him when we’re in so much danger.

“No time,” she rasped, trying to catch her breath and praying her nipples didn't look as hard as they felt. “We have to go. Now.” He studied her barely clad body and swore. “I'm going to kill Montaña. Slowly.

Painfully,” he said hoarsely, still not 100 percent okay.

She could feel his wounds still festering but didn't have the energy to finish him. What she'd done would have to do.

He dragged her with him to the door and exited after she keyed in the code.

“Wait. There's a map.” Sheridan drew in a deep breath and found her center.

She couldn't run away if she was on the verge of passing out. Though not at full strength, she intended to leave on her own two feet. It was clear Jules couldn't manage more than himself at the moment. She shrugged out of the pack and found the map in an outer pocket. But when she tried to orient her direction, she found she couldn't focus.

“You sure you're okay?” Jules asked.

“I'm fine.”

He plucked the map from her hands, turned it around, and pointed north.

“That way. Let's go.” He took the pack and wavered on his feet.

“Are you good?”

“I'll have to be,” he muttered. He put the pack on his back and took off into the jungle, glancing over his shoulder at her every few seconds.

She surprised herself by keeping up with him, adrenaline giving her the boost she needed to escape. Though he'd been injured, he still had a well of strength she didn't. She kept up with him for what felt like a good mile, knowing full well he'd slowed his pace for her.

Then her body just quit. The drain of healing him, the shocks she'd faced tonight, and the run through the freaking jungle in bare feet, took its toll. She collapsed like a rag doll behind him.

The minute she dropped, he was there.

“Damn.” Jules shook his head and just… grew. One minute, he stood there, a human giant; the next, he had longer hair, claws, darker skin, and stood a foot taller, wider, and just bigger everywhere. His growl sounded more animal than man, and she couldn't help staring in shock as he lifted her in his muscular arms.

His eyes no longer resembled those of a man, but of a cat.

She was so amazed by the changes in him, she didn't even think to question being held in his arms.

Jules leaned closer and sniffed at the curve of her neck, where it joined her shoulder. “Fuck, you smell good.”

She gasped when she saw fangs. “Oh my God.”

He snorted, what she thought might have been a pass at laughter, and then he took off. Jarring yet exhilarating, they moved through the jungle faster than she could have moved by herself, even in running shoes. Jules flowed over the uneven ground like a jaguar at full tilt. He had speed, stamina, and an instinctive knowledge that made him seem at one with the jungle.

They'd run for what felt like hours before he slowed. But he didn't stop. At times he stumbled. His pain would flare and fade, and she felt a subtle twin sense of energy within him, as if two people fought for command of his body. It was odd; she'd never before felt the like.

His gait grew rougher, but he wouldn't put her down.

“Jules, let me go.” She'd rested enough.

“Not yet.”

“When? When we reach the States?” she asked drily.

“When we outrun them.”

Before she could ask who, as if on cue, a loud, wild scream rent the air.

“Mutants, probably a few rogues,” Jules answered. “They find us, we're fucked.” Jules took a deep breath and ran faster. “And that's if we're lucky.”