Chapter 6
They rode for hours. Savannah tucked her head behind Jasper’s broad back and held on tight. The warmth of him, being so close to him, protected her from the chilly evening air. It also awakened other sensations she had—up until then—only dreamed of.
The last time she had seen Jasper, he had given her a sweet, chaste kiss on the top of her head then climbed back on this same motorcycle, speeding away and out of her life. She’d only been fifteen years old then, caught between being a child and a woman. Every night for years she had prayed he’d walk back into her life and see her as a grown woman. Ten years later, here he was. But would he ever see her as anything other than that scared little girl?
The bike veered off the highway down a bumpy, curvy road. She had no idea where they were and did not care. Her body enjoyed the closeness too much and she used the change in the terrain to hold on even tighter. Just like in her dreams from all those years earlier—Jasper had ridden into town, swept her off her feet, and they were running away together.
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t exactly her reality, but as long as the bike kept going, she could pretend. Smiling, she inhaled the scent of honeysuckle and road dust, content for the moment.
Finally, Jasper slowed the bike until they coasted to the edge of a large pond. As the roar of the motor died away, Savannah sighed deeply. She despised the idea of letting go, of pulling away from the mound of ripped muscles, of releasing the dream to the coldness of reality. Jasper patted her hands, still clinched around his waist. When she released her grip, she purposefully allowed her fingers to splay out along his stomach and dragged them slowly from around his waist, only breaking contact when they’d reached the middle of his back. He caught his breath and did not exhale until her hands dropped to her sides.
He cleared his throat and craned his neck around to peer at her. “Doing okay, back there?” She simply nodded, not trusting her own voice. “Thought we could use a break. This place”—he broke eye contact to gaze around— “seems nice.” The cycle rocked as he kicked the stand into place and slid off the seat. All the earlier warmth evaporated.
Following his lead, she hopped off the Harley, but wobbled. He grasped her arm to steady her.
Damn, here she was trying to act all smooth and grown up. Geez, not the time to turn into a klutz.
Without a word, Jasper slid his hand down her arm to intertwine their fingers before leading her to the water’s edge. The warmth of his skin singed her palm and sent happy sensations to the rest of her body.
There was a short, dilapidated-looking pier that jutted out over the water. They walked to the end and sat down. Considering the groans of the worn lumber, Savannah wasn’t too confident it would hold their weight. The last thing she wanted was to go for a moonlight swim—unexpectedly, anyway. Skinny-dipping, that was something else to consider.
The water was pristine, reflecting the half moon and the smattering of clouds above them. Sweet, tantalizing honeysuckle perfumed the air. A vine grew across a worn—in some places broken—fence that went halfway around the pond. Bushes and overgrowth camouflaged the rest. She inhaled deeply. Honeysuckle was her favorite fragrance. Too bad no perfume company had been able to adequately replicate it, especially not in her price range.
Minutes passed. Neither spoke, surrounded by the sounds of the night. A lone owl hooted in the distance, crickets chirped around the underbrush surrounding the pond, and what sounded like a trio of bullfrogs croaked from a rock outcropping closer to shore. At first it was comforting, but then wariness nipped at her peace.
Although her inner fifteen-year-old girl held onto a tendril of hope that Jasper would turn to her and declare his undying love and take her far away from her troubles, she was also a realist. He was here for one reason and one reason only—to save her ass from this demon or goddess or whatever the fuck had taken over her body earlier. When the entity was vanquished, he’d leave again.
Holy cowbells!She’d been possessed! Probably would be again. The mere thought sent shivers throughout her body. It was a good thing she didn’t recall a second of it. If she had been conscious during that episode, she was pretty sure she’d be catatonic now.
A deep, stuttering sigh escaped Jasper’s chest. That’s not a good sign.
“Savi, I’ve been thinking…”
“Not your best trait!”
Now why did she have to go and interrupt him with a smarmy comment like that? Probably because it was her only defense mechanism when it came to Jasper.
“Sorry,” she muttered, her eyes purposefully downcast, “I didn’t mean that.”
His laugh startled her as it echoed over the water. “Yes, sweetheart. Yes, you did. And”—he reached over to tilt her chin up so she would look him in the eyes—“you have every right to. I haven’t been the most dependable, or thoughtful, friend.” His thumb caressed her cheek, sending delightful shivers cascading to the rest of her body. “I am sorry.”
Her thoughts implored him to lean in, just a smidgen closer, to touch his lips to hers. As if he read her thoughts—oh, hell! Maybe he could do that—his exquisite icy blue eyes dropped to her lips. He did lean in. Savannah’s face lifted and her eyelids closed. His breath brushed against her face, warming her. She could feel him bridging the gap between them as every nerve ending fired in anticipation. Then…
Cold enveloped her. Her eyes sprung open as Jasper pulled away.
Dammit!
After the most agonizing and embarrassing moments of her life passed in silence, Savannah couldn’t stand it anymore. “So, what the hell are we going to do about my problem?” Inwardly, she cringed, hearing the bitterness in her tone.
It had the right effect, she guessed. Jasper inhaled deeply and then turned back to her. Physically, they were as close as could be. Emotionally, they were galaxies apart. It was safe in that place though.
“Well, I need to find out what Manea wants from you.” He gritted out the monster’s name between his teeth and his dark olive skin paled. Even in the faint moonlight, seeing him like that sent a different kind of shiver up her spine—the scared shitless kind. “Then I can formulate a strategy for defeating her, once and for all.” He grasped her hands in a tight grip. “I promise to protect you, always.”
Anger boiled in her gut and shot up to her mouth. “Forgetting something there, champ? You’re not doing this alone! It’s me she seems to want, so I’m a big part of this whether you like it or not. I’m not a damsel in distress. You’re not a knight on a sleek, white horse riding in to save the day. We do this together or you can leave now.”
Dead silence answered her. Even the bullfrogs had gone quiet.
When Savannah formed the courage to look at Jasper again, she was astonished to find a smile creeping up his beautiful face. “That’s my girl. Always so brave. So beautiful. Oh, I’ve missed you, little one.”
Whereas his smile had lit her up from the inside, those last two words punched her in the gut.
Little one. He would never see her as anything other than that fifteen-year-old girl.
***
It took every ounce of restraint Jasper had to pull away from those luscious lips. Every fiber of his being had begged him to lean in, wrap Savannah in his arms, and never let go. The entire ride, he had relished her arms around him, her body pressed into his. It had been pure, delightful torture.
This little piece of heaven—moonlit lake, nature’s symphony playing a sweet tune, and this beautiful creature with hair as white as the moon blowing about her face in the soft breeze, her eyes beseeching him to lean in closer, her sensual lips inviting him to taste—screamed romance. He wanted nothing more than to tenderly press his lips to hers, just to bask in their silky softness. But his body knew him too well. One gentle kiss from her would sweep his common sense away. He was not a good enough man to resist allowing one kiss to race into a desire-fueled frenzy where he could lose control. He could not do that to her.
Of course, he should’ve expected the outburst about her not needing to be saved. How many times had she screamed that at him when she had been just a frightened kid surrounded by a gang of young boys with one thing on their mind? How many times had he hauled her away, kicking and yelling obscenities, onto the back of his Harley, and had driven away until her screams stopped? Every stop along the way had been the same discussion over and over—I don’t need you; I don’t need saving; I can take care of myself.
He hadn’t doubted her then, but he’d stayed around and found her a safe home with a loving couple who would care for her. He did doubt her now, though. If he couldn’t save himself from Manea hundreds of years earlier as a royal knight, how could Savannah save herself from the same monster?
But the way her eyes dimmed when he’d kinda, sort of apologized… What was that about?
Savannah sat straighter and pulled away from him. A blast of icy air filled the space where their bodies had been nearly touching. “So, what’s your plan?” she ground out between clenched teeth.
A plan? Oh yeah, he should have a plan. But… He didn’t.
While conversing with the cowboys over warm, greasy pizza and a couple of beers, his brain had been busy trying to formulate one. He should have had it all figured out by now. He was a military battle strategy genius, or so he always bragged to his friends. But facing Manea again, that messed with his mind in all kinds of horrific ways, leaving him paralyzed with fear—something he had not experienced since his death.
The sound of Savannah clearing her throat brought him back to the present. How could he tell her that he just didn’t know what the fuck to do? That wouldn’t be very reassuring. A guardian angel should have all the answers, right?
“Based on what we know of our adversary”—he hoped to stall while providing a recap that was not needed— “she’s the mother of ghosts and the undead. She can manipulate them to her will, so I expect she’s been using them to spook the animals at the absolutely worst times during the rodeo. Her intent, usually, is to cause chaos, madness, and ultimately, insanity.” He glanced over to Savannah who rolled her eyes at him. He’d intentionally withheld the part about there being an off chance that he could kill Manea by killing her as well and that… was not an option.
“You’ve told me this already. What do we do to stop her?” She groaned in frustration. “I don’t give a damn why she’s doing anything, just how to make her stop before someone else gets hurt because...” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “It’ll be my fault if that happens.” Tears overflowed her eyelids, breaking Jasper’s heart.
“No. No. None of this is your fault.” Instinctively, he pulled her to his chest and stroked her flowing mane of silvery white hair. Her body shook as sobs overtook her. He knew she needed this release, but she would also be pissed later to have allowed herself to cry.
“Don’t you dare say it.” Her words were muted as her face was buried in his chest. Then she looked up at him, fire sparkling in her eyes. “I am not a victim.”
Jasper pushed a strand of hair that had matted on her face and tucked it behind her ear. “No, you’re not. Never have been and never will be.” He couldn’t help the grin that broke out on his face. “And Heaven help the person who ever thinks otherwise.”
Savannah returned his smile with a vibrant one of her own. One that ignited a flame in his body, burning to his very soul. Without warning, her hands clasped the sides of his face and pulled him to her. Their lips smashed together. Not tender as he had imagined kissing her at first, but with a demand that elicited a primal moan. He could not tell if it came from her or from himself, or both.
Unable—or unwilling—to pull back, Jasper fisted a handful of her hair at the base of her neck and clutched her close. Her lips were just as soft as he’d imagined. The innocent image he’d carried with him of this woman fractured and swirled as she nipped at his bottom lip until he opened to her.
He had been wrong. His thoughts of sweet, gentle kisses slowly diving into sensual caresses as desire built to a crescendo evaporated. He was instantly transported to that place of wanton, crazed desire where thinking played no part.