Julian's Jeopardy

Chapter Three

Despite the danger, despite his ragged pain, Jules had a hard time thinking with so much exposed female flesh in his arms. Imagining Sheridan naked had been hard enough, but seeing her all but bare rocked his foundation.

Running with a hard-on wasn't comfortable by any means, but if the creatures chasing them got their hands on her, Sheridan would wish for a quick death. She’s here, in my arms. For fuck’s sake, she has to be real. Unfortunately, the drugs made his beast just as hazy as the human part of him. The colors of the forest popped despite the darkness around them. The scent of wild animals, flowers, and woman mixed into one heady perfume.

His body ached, his bones and tissue desperately needed to heal, but he didn't have the time to complete the process. What Sheridan had done had helped, but it wasn't enough. And their race through the jungle made it worse. Am I carrying her?

Is she really there?

He hugged her closer and heard a soft grunt.

She’s real. His beast growled and refused to accept the fact she might not be.

Not that Jules could blame him. Even the fantasy of Sheridan was better than anything they'd dealt with for weeks.

He still didn't know what had happened to facilitate their escape, but the time for talking could wait. He had to accept that he wasn't crazy. Sheridan was, in fact, a real woman.

So small and vulnerable, the woman in his arms called on every one of his protective instincts. No way would Jules let anyone put a hand on her. Sheridan had saved him, apparently at great peril to herself.

He jumped over a tree root and inwardly flinched when her full breasts smashed against his chest. A centerfold couldn't have asked for a sexier frame, and to hold her nearly nude against him was a hell he'd gladly suffer.

Trouper that she was, she didn't make a peep as he raced through the vegetation that would have scarred a normal man. The sharp blades of palms and bamboo grazed off his tough skin without leaving a scratch. Sheridan, unfortunately, caught a few cuts that bled, making her slippery in his arms. And still, she remained silent and uncomplaining as he sought safety.

Maybe because she's not really there to complain, some perverse part of him taunted. Maybe you just think she's there.

Enough. His beast roared at him to be silent on the subject, and needing the creature at top strength, Jules relented.

They crossed a narrow tributary before he felt confident enough there was enough distance between them and their enemy to stop. Sunlight filtered down through the eerie darkness around them via a few points in the space above the canopy of leaves overhead. Hell, he'd run all night long.

“Seems like in the short time I've known you, we're always in the dark,” Sheridan muttered, the first words she'd spoken in hours.

Jules walked to a small patch of sunlight and set her down gently. He made sure she stood on steady feet before letting go. Rummaging through the backpack, he found a bandanna he dampened in the nearby river. After cleaning himself, he returned to her and wiped the blood from her body. To his surprise, her wounds had already healed.

She stared at him in silence, her look one of awe.

He frowned. “What?”

“You're so…different.”

Yet instead of backing away, Sheridan took a step closer.

His beast liked the courage in the slight female, and Jules waited without moving, not wanting to spook her.

“Can I touch you?”

His cock rose in an instant, begging to be petted. “Wherever you like.” She flushed, a pretty pink that made him want to see it all over her body. As she stroked his forearms and chest, he took in everything he'd been trying to ignore while he carried her.

Her breasts strained the fabric of the thin pink camisole she wore, her nipples hard and outlined against the sheer cotton. Her shorts hugged her hips. Just as transparent as her top, they couldn't hide the thin strip of hair covering her mound.

He salivated at the thought of how sweet she might taste, and to his astonishment, he caught the scent of her lust on the air.

He opened his mouth to taste it and licked at his fangs. A light floral scent, exotic and particular. He'd never smelled the like before, and it intoxicated him.

Without meaning to, he leaned down and licked her neck, purring at her answering shudder. The floral perfume of her arousal intensified.

“Oh, that tickles.” She inched closer and stroked the hard plane of his abdomen. “You must work out a lot. I can see all your muscles.” He closed what little space remained between them, incredibly aroused, especially when his cock touched the smooth fabric guarding her belly.

“How are you so big?”

It’s you, he wanted to say, then realized she meant the change. “I'm Circ.”

“What's a Circ?” Her hands left his stomach to graze his ribs.

He couldn't help it. A louder rumble vibrated though his body.

“You're purring!” She paused, then continued to touch him.

“That feels good.”

“You have fangs. Claws.” She fingered the sharp blades of his nails, not at all afraid but curious like a cat. Her creamy skin contrasted with his darker flesh, so tender, while his was so tough.

“I'm Circ. I'm a man who can change into this. A beast.”

“A beast,” she whispered. “Is this why Ricardo wanted you? To be able to transform like you?”

“I'm not sure.” He didn't know her well enough to trust her with all his secrets, despite how close his body wanted to make them.

“You're fascinating.” She stepped back, and he had to fight the urge not to pull her closer again. When she glanced up at him, her blue eyes sparkled in the light.

The neon blue of her gaze warned him to be careful. Her image fluttered in and out until he blinked her into focus and ignored his fading energy. He needed to lie down, to rest and recuperate with the enemy all too close. But he needed to be inside her even more.

She bit her lower lip. “You can heal yourself, like me. But you're so much more.”

He grunted. “You're a lot more than you appear to be as well.” Sensing they were safe, at least for now, he changed back, wanting to feel his normal body again, to be more compatible with Sheridan. Hell, if he were honest with himself, he wanted to feel her hands on the man's skin, not his beast's.

“Incredible.” She caressed his chest, and he stifled a moan.

The fog of lust made everything else fade into the background. Suddenly consumed with the need to take Sheridan, Jules could think of nothing but her. His aches and pains disappeared, pushed behind a door in his mind as his carnal desires overwhelmed his senses. Shit, I’m hard enough to split wood. And her pussy is creaming for me. I need this. “Hmm, yeah. Incredible.” He kissed her before she could protest, and she sank into his arms like she'd been made for him.

He licked her lips and pushed his tongue into the sweet cavern of her mouth, dizzy with need. She felt so damned good against him, so feminine and yielding. He wanted to sink inside such softness, to let it surround him and lose himself in her warmth. The energy in the woman called to him the same way her voluptuous little body did.

Ending the kiss, he trailed his mouth down her cheek to her neck. He placed his mouth over the spot on her neck he'd seen bruised, and lightly sucked, aroused when she moaned. Her nipples raked his chest, and he thrust against her belly, aching for her.

“Oh,” she gasped. “You're making me so hot.”

“Good, because you make me burn.” He had to touch her. He ran his hands over her back, then slid them under her top. She didn't protest, and he tossed the camisole away, exposing her creamy shoulders and breasts. “Oh, man. A rosy peach, my favorite color.” He groaned and sucked on her nipple, unable to keep away.

She moaned his name with so much desire and urgency that she soothed his need to take her hard and fast. After all the suffering he'd undergone, he intended to linger in the first sense of true peace he'd had since his hellish time in captivity.

Hell, since he'd turned fucking Circ, if he admitted the truth.

Her breasts were full, so large and round, and tipped with wide areolas and tight nipples. He feasted on one, then the other, biting the engorged buds until she cried out and clutched him tighter. Her small hands on his waist felt so hot, so good.

He wanted them on him, over his cock and balls. Closer, so close until there was no him or her—only them, joined as one.

Jules pushed her shorts to the ground and eased them both to their knees. He lay back, not wanting to hurt her skin on the rough ground. Not liking even that small of a distance between them, he pulled her closer to continue suckling her breasts.

Her moans and the sweltering scent of her need surrounded him with true paradise.

She settled over him more firmly, bringing the wet heat of her sex over his cock, and he bucked up, sliding in her cream.

“Jules, please,” she rasped, a throaty whisper that taunted his willpower. “I want you inside me.”

“Demanding little thing, aren't you?” he teased and kissed his way back up her throat to her mouth. A small part of him whispered of danger, of potential enemies nearby, but his beast snarled the caution to silence. This was much more important, vital to Jules's well-being. He needed Sheridan like he needed breath. And he intended to have her.

He licked at her mouth and thrust past her lips, caught in the feminine taste of her.

The kiss flamed through his body, connecting them in a way he hadn't anticipated. Affection poured through him, racing alongside the lust that continued to build. Everything in Jules, in the man and his beast, cherished the gift of this female, so small yet so resilient as he laid claim to her. He wanted the moment to last as he learned all the ways to please her.

But the stubborn woman on top of him had other ideas. She shifted, and before he knew it, he slid inside her, the head of his cock engulfed by wet heat.

“Oh, fuck.” He swore and tried to stop her from moving.

“More,” she demanded.

Astonished at Sheridan's sudden fierceness, he stared into her bright eyes and watched her expression as she sank over him. He lost himself in her aroused gaze, in the flush of pleasure on her cheeks, in the parted lips that moaned his name as she willingly accepted him.

Inch by inch, she took him inside, the soft mews of her bliss making it increasingly difficult not to slam her on top of him and conquer the rest of her.

Instead, Jules allowed himself to be conquered.

She straightened, her heavy breasts lifting in time with her breathing as she lowered herself until she took all of him. The heat of her around him, of her wet pussy over his balls, was indescribable.

He gripped her hips and held her there, not wanting her to move yet, or it would all be over.

“You feel so good inside me,” she admitted on a breathy moan. “So full.” He swore and instinctively arched his hips. Her groan spurred him, and he raised her hips slowly, then let her glide back down him again.

“Ride me, Sheridan. God, please, don't stop. I want you to come all over me.”

“Jules,” she whispered and then pleasured them both.

She rose higher, until only the tip of him remained inside her; then she rocked back over him, taking him deep. The slide of her pussy mesmerized him, and he watched himself disappear inside her each time she took him.

He reached up and cupped her breasts, taken with the hard nipples. They pressed into his palms and begged to be pinched. When he did, she slammed over him. So he did it again.

Playing with her breasts gave him some small control over her motions, and soon she increased her pace until she was all but crying over him, tearing his mind and resolve to shreds.

His claws lengthened, his fangs grew, and his lust spiraled out of control.

Sheridan slammed down one final time and whimpered as her body clamped down hard, seizing his cock in a grip so tight, he couldn't stop himself from coming.

“Sheridan,” he moaned as he climaxed, filling her with a mess of seed. He seized in spasm, caught in an agonizing bliss as he spent and continued to spend.

When finally his orgasm tapered to a stop, he pulled her off him and shoved her to her hands and knees, then positioned himself behind her. Despite coming, he was still hard, needy. Still Circ.

Mine. Make her mine. His beast snarled at him to finish it, to take his mate and bind her to them.

She didn't protest when he slammed back into her and took her again, not sure when the pleasure of his first orgasm had stopped before climbing toward a second, harder fulfillment.

But somehow she was there, sharing it with him, her pussy a vise on his cock and taking all of him while he shuddered and whispered her name.

Finally wrung dry, he withdrew from her body and collapsed on the ground.

His aches and pains returned in a rush, and a bone-deep weariness tugged at him.

But he didn't care. Jules pulled Sheridan on top of him, not surprised to see her exhausted and on the verge of sleep. A satisfied smile curled her lips.

So precious. So mine. His beast repeated, even as it curled inside him, content and possessive. She was so slight, so frail compared to him. The thought of anything happening to her was unthinkable.

His head throbbed, and a striking pain darted between his eyes. Time was running out, and he felt that he'd made a huge mistake. The burning in his joints grew. His bones fucking hurt, and the stretch of muscle beneath even Sheridan's light weight hurt. He was fast going to lose consciousness. He could feel it.

“Sheridan, listen to me. If we separate or something happens to me, I want you to call this number.” He rattled off the Circ emergency number, worried because even to himself the numbers sounded slurred. “Repeat it back to me. You can't forget. There are people there who can help you.” She repeated it five times before he relaxed.

“Don't worry, Jules. We'll get out of here together. I know it.” She yawned and stroked his chest, the tingling heat from her fingers giving him something he'd been missing for some time. Warmth, a sense of belonging, affection that spread and deepened inside him.

He kissed the top of her glorious red hair and smiled as the darkness overtook him. How ironic that in the belly of this nightmare he'd find an angel of his own.

God, if I’m dreaming, don’t ever wake me up.

He caressed her back as she settled into slumber. His beast sighed and decided to join her.

No, not yet, he yelled in his dazed mind, to no avail. The sated creature refused to heed him, so tired, so worn down by the treatment they'd suffered in the labs. Jules tried, but the man couldn't deny his need to rest either. The drugs surged through his unprotected mind. Without the beast there to temper the effects, the chemicals saturating his brain turned the jungle into a circus of rioting sensation. And without wanting to, he fell into a nightmarish sleep in a place where he and Sheridan could little afford vulnerability.

He awakened to more darkness and to the foreign scent of threat in the air.

Sheridan stirred, and he had trouble raising his hand to cover her mouth to caution her to silence. She nodded, and he removed his hand. He pulled her ear to his mouth and whispered, “Stay low. We have company.” Cursing himself for falling asleep when he shouldn't have, he forced his beast to stir, giving him enough power to move to his feet and at least give some semblance of a Circ who could fight. He pushed Sheridan into a copse of trees and prayed his scent masked hers. He could feel the presence of Circs nearby. Fuck.

Rogues, he hoped, because they'd probably been ordered to take him back to the compound. But mutants couldn't reason. They fucked and fought to sate abnormal hungers. Combating more than one mutant by himself, especially being this weak, would spell certain death. But he'd die before he'd let anything happen to Sheridan.

He straightened to his full height and pushed with everything he had in him to change, and just in time. Three rogues flew at him from all directions. He fought as best he could with fangs and claws and brute strength, but he put up a pitiful contest at best.

They didn't need much to take him to the ground, but still he fought, desperate to distract them so that Sheridan might escape the danger.

To his shock, his teammates arrived and began hammering on the rogues around him. Except Tersch, who delivered a punch to his jaw that hurt like a motherfucker.

“Easy, Viking,” he garbled.

“Viking? Shit, he's gone.” The raspy voice was unfamiliar, and Jules blinked up at a rogue he didn't know.

“Not…Tersch.”

The asshole smiled and drew back his fist, readying to punch Jules right in the face. He could feel it. His beast knew it was coming but could do nothing to stop it.

Sounds grew louder, then softer, and the rogue in front of him suddenly had two heads. Then the lights went out.

Sheridan's scream woke him from the darkness, and he turned to see two rogues fighting over her, tugging on her like a damned piece of rope. To his confusion, the rogue who'd been ready to hit him had vanished.

He roared and stumbled to his knees, trying unsuccessfully to regain his feet.

Unable to stand on what felt like a broken ankle, he crawled after Sheridan. He didn't get far before one of the rogues fighting for her turned in his direction. Dark brown eyes flashed to green, then back to brown again. Like magic, the rogue seemed to grow, then shrink, and Jules puzzled over the male's ability to change.

“Shit, he's a goner,” the shrinking Circ said. “He's fading fast. Take the girl.”

“No. Sheridan,” Jules rasped and scared himself. He sounded weak, his voice barely audible.

Then the mutant found him.

Too bad he found a moment of clarity only to see a monster out of his worst nightmare descending on him.

Circs who had succumbed to bloodlust faster than others were prone to a speedy descent to hell if they couldn't manage the mating heats or if they'd been dosed with a control drug meant to manage Circs. Unfortunately, the drug didn't manage so much as alter Circs, who soon mutated into creatures no longer resembling anything human.

The rogues Jules had fought looked like him—larger, wider, darker, but still mostly human. This mutant had night black skin and crawled on four feet. Its hind legs were somewhat shorter than the front legs, and it moved the way a gorilla might. But there the resemblance to the mighty ape faltered. Because this thing didn't have ears or a nose, just large red eyes without pupils, slits where its nostrils should have been, and a mouth filled with rows of sharp teeth, almost like a cross between a shark and a predatory feline.

The thing wasn't graceful, yet it moved with such speed that it covered Jules before he could blink.

He swore he heard Sheridan yelling in the background, but he couldn't make sense of anything more than that the fucking mutant was eating his arm. Tearing the flesh from bone and sucking with a pronged tongue.

“Dammit!” He tried to throw the thing from him but could do no more than lie there and suffer. At least some numbness removed him from the pain. But in the back of his mind, he thought the lack of sensation might be worse than feeling the injury.

“Hunger,” the mutant rasped and grinned. “Mine.” It surged against him, letting him feel its mangled cock. “Hunger.”

“Oh, fuck no.” Jules couldn't think of a worse way to die, but at least the thing wasn't after Sheridan. Yet. “Go,” he tried to yell at her. “Get away.” This thing had a bad case of the mating heat; he could smell its lust in the air. But instead of turning him on, it made him want to puke. So unnatural, so pitifully wrong.

With a last burst of strength, he shifted his clawed hand between their bodies and struck hard at the thing's cock, raking his fingers over its most vulnerable part.

It screamed and retaliated by clawing his chest and biting his neck.

The pain blindsided him, but he twisted his fingers and dug deeper, sawing until he'd castrated the creature.

The resulting scream of pain and rage it made into his ear broke his eardrum, but already numb to the pain, he barely felt a pop before the darkness started to settle once more. He felt its bite and its tongue as it sucked the life from him.

But Jules couldn't think of anything beyond ending its life. If the thing made it past him, Sheridan would be next, and he couldn't let that happen. So much life, so much pure goodness in her aura. She had to live. His beast demanded it.

With a strength he hadn't known he possessed, he pulled back his hands and pushed up hard, digging into the monster's chest cavity.

“Holy shit! Do it, Grayson. While Hawkins has its attention, take its head. I'll get its legs.”

He didn't recognize the voice. But he did realize that the mutant's voracious sucking at his neck slowly subsided. At that point, he completely lost his vision.

Scent, touch, and hearing started to fade as well.

He dreamed of his team laughing and smiling. Mrs. Sharpe disappeared, then reappeared, standing arm in arm with his old boss, Admiral Geoffrey London, a good man, a good friend. The sky lit up like a supernova, so pure and bright.

Welcoming.

His beast protested, and Jules frowned. They needed to go. But they… He couldn't leave. Not yet. Not without her.

“No! Jules. Jules. Come back to me. Please.” A woman's voice. Warmth. The fire of pain as his tissue joined and his bones knit.

The numbness faded. Pain, so sweltering and all consuming that he seized in an indescribable spasm of the worst torture imaginable, became his entire center.

His heart stuttered, his breath came in short bursts, and slowly, so slowly, the shaking pain became an aching throb, which gradually eased into an uncomfortable buzzing in his ears, and a weightless kind of tranquility. Not like the numbness, but a good, pure calm.

He blinked up into the vision of an angel surrounded by white. So bright, it hurt to look at, her silhouette was one of grace and peace.

“It's okay. You're good now, Jules. You'll be all right.” Her voice was hoarse but sweet, and she stroked his face with hands from heaven. Jules sighed, basking in the delight of the afterlife.

The warm peace he felt reminded him of something, his experienced pain and resultant pleasure kindling a fantasy of the perfect woman in his arms. He struggled to understand the voices above him, and his beast growled at the deep male tones too close to Jules's angel. But then peace reclaimed him, and he let himself float in the drift of calm nothingness.

Jules didn't stir when Raul lifted him in his arms.

“Heavy fucker,” Raul muttered and shifted the bulk of Jules's large body between him and Grayson. “Can't believe he wasted a mutant when he was nearly dying. Damn.”

“Go easy, please.” Sheridan wiped tears from her eyes and would have fallen if Grayson, the other Circ nearest her, hadn't steadied her.

When the two large rogues in front of her had turned and killed the other rogues trying to drag her away earlier, she hadn't known what to think. She'd wanted nothing but to escape them all to help Jules.

It was only when Grayson left her to help Jules, and Raul caved in to her demand to help Jules as well, that she realized these rogue Circs weren't the enemy. In an odd twist, Raul was in fact the same guard who'd entered her room earlier with Elena. The one who'd told her to comply because he didn't want to have to hurt her.

She didn't understand what they were really after or why they were helping her. But right now, the only thing that mattered was saving Jules. God, she'd wanted to die when Jules had begun to fade. It made no sense, but literally feeling his life force depart from his body had stolen her will to do anything but help him or die trying.

“He'll be okay now,” Grayson murmured. Like Raul, he'd transformed back into the form of a man. She still couldn't totally believe she'd seen men transform into beasts. The scientist within her saw the possibilities, but the woman had a hard time believing she wasn't going crazy. For now she'd accept it, because she didn't have the time or energy to do anything else.

Fortunately, both men wore loose-fitting trousers that had withstood their earlier shift into those beastlike creatures. The pair of Circs stared at her, and she tried to look steadier on her feet than she felt. Healing Jules had taken everything within her. But it was worth it.

She smiled as she stared at Jules draped between Grayson and Raul. He was okay. Finally. He'd need rest, but he'd recuperate. Thank God.

Grayson cleared his throat. “Ah, you might want to put some clothes on.” She blinked, not understanding him, and would have fallen if he hadn't let go of Jules and caught her.

“Shit. Call that number, Raul. You heard what she said earlier.” She tried to make sense of his words, but she couldn't stop squirming. He felt nice, but he didn't smell right. No vanilla, no Jules. She faded, seeing nothing but darkness. And then she blinked and saw Grayson again. What had he said? “Call that number…”

“You're gonna call?” She said the phone number again, remembering it easily in Jules's deep voice. “He needs help. You promised.” The vague assurance that she'd made a deal with these rogues in return for something lingered at the back of her mind.

“Sheridan? Hey, Sheridan,” Raul said louder. “We have a deal or not?” Raul slanted a dark look at Jules now over his shoulder. “I'll take him, but you have to heal us.”

She didn't have much of a choice now, did she? The need to protect Jules wouldn't leave her. “Right. The deal.” She shook her head, trying to push through the fatigue weighing her down. To her surprise, Grayson began to rumble against her side in a vibrating purr. She glanced up at him and saw his hazel eyes narrowed on her chest.

“Sorry.” He caught her look and grinned, and she saw a very handsome man under the threat of the Circ. “We'd best get you dressed.” He cleared his throat. “So it's a deal, right, Sheridan?”

She nodded.

He turned to Raul. “Take him.”

“I don't need you telling me what the fuck to do,” Raul growled.

“Wait.” She struggled in Grayson's arms before he set her gently down. Not sure why she cared so much, she looked around for the backpack they'd brought along. She found it near some trees and stumbled to it. Sheridan wished she had the energy to dress, but right now, she couldn't make herself care. She focused on her task at hand. The ring she sought lay in the front pocket of the pack, and she pulled it out and off the chain on which it sat.

By rights, she barely knew more than Jules's name or the way he felt inside her body. But she'd felt his energy. She's watched him protect her at great cost to himself. He could conceivably be worse than Ricardo, though she couldn't bring herself to believe it. Just because he can heal himself doesn’t mean he can’t have a secret agenda. After all, he knows Ricardo in some way. A drug deal gone bad? A cop who got too close?

Though her conscience protested she have a care in her dealings with Jules, her heart wouldn't listen. Her mother had told her that the time would come when she'd know to pass on the ring. And God help her, but Sheridan just knew.

The ring needed to go to Jules.

“Sheridan, he's getting heavy,” Raul muttered.

“Just let me do one thing.” She slowly walked over to Raul, ignoring the way he studied her body with a hunger that made her more than uncomfortable. She moved behind him to grab Jules's hand dangling down Raul's back. As she slipped the ring on his ring finger, she wasn't surprised when it fit as if made for him.

Some way, somehow, if she didn't end up dying in this jungle, she'd find him again. He'd touched her heart without meaning to. An enemy of her enemy—

Ricardo Montaña.

“Be careful, Jules. I'll see you soon,” she whispered and kissed his cheek. He didn't move, just lay slumped over Raul's shoulder.

Raul growled. “I'll make the call and dump him somewhere safe.” The look he gave her warned her to move back.

She bumped into Grayson and froze. Like Raul, Grayson had a worn, mean demeanor. She could feel his wounds as if her own. Her palms itched, and she curled her fingers, holding back. She sensed his tension, as well as something else.

Behind her, his erection pressed into her back. Against these men, she was helpless, and they all knew it.

The spark of cruelty in Raul's gaze darkened. He licked his lips, and she saw the hint of a sharp fang. “Grayson will take you someplace safe. I'll be back as soon as I can. You don't move until I get there.”

She nodded, not happy, but she'd already agreed. “I have your word you won't just ditch Jules somewhere and leave him for dead?” Raul stared down at her. But before he could answer, Grayson answered for him. “He'll do what he said. Or he'll answer to me.” The menace in his voice made her shiver.

“Fuck you.” But whatever Raul saw in Grayson's face convinced him to end the argument. He turned and disappeared into the jungle after one more leering stare at Sheridan.

Grayson turned her in his arms and sighed. “We'll get along without a problem, right, Doc?”

“Sure, Grayson. But I'm not a doctor.” She felt safer with him than Raul, actually. But she didn't think it best to admit it. “I need my c-clothes.” Sheridan trembled again, despite the heat. Fatigue weighed heavily on her shoulders.

“Yeah, you sure as shit need some clothes.” He groaned. “Come on, Doc.” Grayson took a few steps from her and dug into a large rucksack she hadn't noticed before. He took some clothes out of it, then moved to her pack and dumped the contents of it into his rucksack. He hooked the straps over his shoulder, seemingly ready to go.

He handed her the clothes, then surprised her by turning his back. She stepped into the T-shirt and shorts with gratitude.

After a few moments, he faced her once more and held out a hand. “I'll carry you. You probably weigh little more than the pack.” She flushed. I wish. “It's okay. I can walk.” Grayson narrowed his gaze. “No, you can't. You're weak from whatever the hell you did to Hawkins, and you're barefoot besides. Look, I'm not going to hurt you.

You heal Raul from Silva's whacked-out experiments and fix this chronic stitch in my side, and I won't let a damn thing happen to you.” He paused, studying her with bright hazel eyes. “You never worked for Montaña, did you?”

“No.” She rubbed her throat, where Ricardo had mauled her earlier. When Jules had made love to her, he'd overtaken her memories of what Ricardo had almost done. But now, in the presence of another strange male, Sheridan couldn't help reliving the horror of the event. Her eyes welled with tears.

“Shit. Okay, Doc, here we go.” His voice gentled as he scooped her into his arms and held her against his chest.

But he didn't smell like vanilla, and she couldn't help missing her Circ. Jules Hawkins. The man who'd taken more than her precious ring when he'd gone. He'd taken her trust, her respect, and, she feared, her heart as well.

“Holy shit. It's him. I thought it was going to be just another wild-goose chase.”

“Easy. Don't move him yet.”

“I'm not. But he seems okay. Just out of it.”

Jules moaned at the loss of warmth that had cocooned him from the world. But instead of basking in peace, he blinked up into the faces of two of his teammates—

Kisho Hayashi and Morgan Reynolds.

The normally stoic Asian smiled with relief when he met Jules's gaze. “Damn, Jules. Where the hell have you been?”

Hayashi's mate, Morgan, breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank God. Now you can deal with Tersch. He's been driving everyone crazy while you've been gone.” Morgan's green eyes flashed with humor as he studied Jules. “And I have to say, for a man we imagined tortured for weeks, you look pretty damned good.”

Jules groaned as he stretched. “Where am I?”

“In a hotel in Trindade, off the coast of Brazil. I smell the scent of a rogue Circ in the air, but nothing more,” Hayashi answered. “What the hell happened to you, Jules? Where were you?”

“Trindade?” Everything felt fuzzy, wrong somehow. Rogue Circ? What about the angel in white? “The woman. Where's the woman?” Morgan and Hayashi exchanged a glance before Morgan answered, “There's no woman, Jules. The manager saw a big dude drop you off yesterday. The man paid well to make sure no one fucked with the room. Other than that, no one's been here.”

His beast snarled at him to wake up and find her. “I need to find her.”

“Easy, Jules.” Hayashi helped him stand.

To Jules's bewilderment, he wore cotton pants that fit, as well as a white T-shirt. But no shoes. On his ring finger sat an unfamiliar ring. It looked old and expensive. And it wasn't his.

“You feel okay, hoss? How many fingers?” Morgan held up three fingers.

“Three, and don't call me hoss.”

“Yeah, he's back.” Morgan turned away to make a few phone calls on his cell.

Hayashi waved Jules to a change of clothes. “I brought your stuff, and we have a plane on standby.”

Jules studied his friend. “You saw this” Hayashi nodded. “I had a vision of the three of us in this very room, then on a plane back home. Nothing else. I had no idea when you'd arrive. As soon as I had the vision, I left with Morgan. We've been here for almost three weeks, scouring the nearby towns along the coast and inland. No one's seen anything of you, Jules. Then yesterday, the emergency number gets a call. Some guy says to come here to this seedy hotel. And bingo, here you are.”

“No woman?” Where was she? Who was she? Was she even real? A mysterious beauty who'd healed him while in… Where the hell had he been? An image of Montaña rose to mind, but was it because he needed to find the man or because Jules had been held in the enemy's stronghold? More questions than answers, and his head began to pound.

It would make sense if Montaña had been behind his kidnapping. But that some nymphet, who just happened to screw his brains out, had helped Jules escape?

Yeah, right. A fantasy if he'd ever had one.

He rubbed his chest and felt something hard brush him. The ring. Damned if he could place it.

Hayashi shook his head. “I'm sorry, buddy. No woman. It's just you, me, and Morgan.”

Morgan joined them. “The team can't wait to have you back. Even Mrs.

Sharpe's ready to throw a party.”

Jules frowned and tried to focus on the here and now, but his mind was still muzzy from whatever he'd been drugged with. “What was it you said about Tersch?” Hayashi sighed. “He's been having a really hard time without you, Jules.

Going berserker on us. Nearly hit Ava—a total accident, mind you—and ever since, he's been like a ghost. He won't talk, barely eats. Like he's wasting away.” Jules swore under his breath. While he'd been gone, his team had been hurting, maybe as much as he had. The mystery of where he'd been and who had taken him would have to wait. “Let's go.”

“Good. I'll make sure the way is clear. Don't move till I tell you,” Morgan ordered. He kissed his lover, then darted out the door.

Jules raised a brow, relieved to see that at least Hayashi seemed okay.

He flushed when he saw Jules watching him. “What?”

“He's a little bossy, hmm? Since I've been away, seems someone's forgotten his place in our hierarchy.”

Hayashi grinned, and Jules never tired of seeing it. His once somber teammate now looked content. The same violet aura, the color of love, still surrounded him and Morgan. And it made Jules happy to see it.

“Tell you what, team leader. Soon as we're back on State soil, remind Morgan who belongs to whom. I look forward to watching you ream him. Hard.” Jules smiled. When Hayashi turned away, his smile faded. Inside, his beast roared at him to find her—a woman who might or might not exist.