Chapter 33
Having Cody run the rodeo had been the prudent thing to do. Too bad, it hadn’t sat well in Savannah’s heart. Instead, jealousy had reared its ugly head. Add to that pregnancy hormones and a maniacal goddess barely being kept at bay inside Savannah’s noggin, it was a recipe for disaster on an epic scale.
Savannah had known it before agreeing to attend the rodeo events that day despite her better judgment. What she should’ve done was lock herself inside a highly secured prison solitary confinement chamber with a straight jacket on with magical binding spells knitted into the fabric.
But that was not what she did.
Two fatalities.
Sixteen people in critical condition at the local hospital, two med-evacuated to the closest major city.
Fifteen horses unaccounted for.
And one sheriff, three deputies not believing a word she said.
Yes, Savannah should’ve done a number of things differently. Instead, she’d wrecked hell on those she cared for the most, including the man she loved.
***
The day had started pleasantly enough. She’d awakened to the thrum of Jasper’s heartbeat beneath her ear and the faint scent of pine floating on crisp air—the first sign autumn was not far away. Oh, how she wished she could see the leaves change colors again and watch the sunrise over the majestic mountain range. More than anything she wanted to watch Jasper sleeping.
He didn’t sleep much. As a guardian angel, he didn’t require a lot of rest. But if her memory served, he was gloriously beautiful when awake but outright divine when slumbering, at peace: his lush dark eyelashes dusted his tanned complexion; the worry lines etched in his forehead smoothed; and his sensual lips quirked up in a soft smile.
Self-pity will eat you alive and feed you to the dark.
Perfect! Just what she needed to ruin her morning—the damned owl intruding on her thoughts again.
Go away. I’m fine.
No, you are not.
I will be.
Whoo hoo.
Was that damn animal laughing at her? The flutter of wings indicated its departure from its perch outside the bedroom window.
Savannah knew one way to pick up her spirits.
Her fingers splayed against Jasper’s chest, softly caressing in a wavelike motion across rock solid abdominal muscles then descending further until they met some resistance where the cool cotton sheets had twisted around his hips. Before she could pry her fingers under the fabric, Jasper tore the sheets away. The rip of the cloth brought a smile to her face.
He didn’t move again, just waited for her to take the lead, which she gladly did. Her fingers grazed his manhood, already at full attention. Wrapping her fingers around his shaft, she ever so slowly slid her hand up to the tip then back all the way. Jasper’s responding moan poured hot lava into her own pool of need, but she was determined to make him beg for it this time as he’d made her beg last night for her release. He’d brought her to the edge over and over, driving her wild, for what had seemed hours of sweet torment until finally it’d been too much. Her screams of ecstasy had shaken the walls of the cabin, and something had crashed to the floor in the next room. This morning, she’d do the same to him.
Jasper’s moans grew deeper, more frequent. His hips rocked up to join with her ministrations, but she tsked at him. “No, no, naughty boy. You lay still.”
Whenever his breathing became too labored, she’d withdraw her touch. Once he’d calmed again, Savannah would start anew with a different technique—first her hand, then only her fingers lazily traced up and down his cock, then she used her tongue to lick it like a popsicle—slow and with just the tip of her tongue, and then she wrapped her whole mouth around him—licking and sucking until even she couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into her mouth to the back of her throat.
Immediately, she’d pulled back. “Now, what did I tell you before? Behave or I’ll just have to leave you completely unsatisfied for the rest of the day for punishment.”
He’d groaned at that but behaved and did as he was told.
Savannah crawled up to hover her entrance over the tip of his cock. “Tell me what you want, Jasper Moreau,” she whispered in her huskiest tone. “Tell me all about it.”
“I want you to fuck me until our combined screams bring trees in the forest tumbling down from the force of our climax.”
Wow! Savannah’s cunt quivered at his words. She didn’t know how much longer she could make things last before she lost control herself.
She lowered onto his shaft, nearly sending her to her own climax as the head pierced her entrance. Was she imagining things or was sex even hotter when pregnant? Lower. Lower. Desperate to ward off her climax until the last possible moment, she stopped midway down then slid upward, repeating the motion, and going just a touch lower with each descent.
Jasper’s pants grew more frenzied. His body shook from the power of his restraint. Part of her wanted to release him from this prison and allow him to resume control—slamming his cock into her repeatedly. She’d be done for in a matter of seconds. That she knew.
Edging down farther this time, he was fully ensconced inside her. Her entire body shivered with her building climax. “Oh, Jasper!” she groaned. She ground herself against his base, the sensitive skin exalting in the touch. “Oh, god! Jasper! I’m… I’m…”
His hips rocked upward, driving his cock further into her core. That was all it took! Their combined screams of ecstasy echoed as pleasure exploded in her every cell. “Oh, fuck!”
Before she’d even come down from her climax, Jasper started moving underneath her. “We’re not done,” he promised.
With each movement, her cunt quickened with need. Slow at first, she relished every tingling, pulsing sensation but soon demanded a quicker, harder pace until her full breasts bounced with the ferocity of his thrusts. “Fuck me, oh…oh…fuck ME!”
“Always happy to oblige you, my love.” His husky whisper combined with his breakneck speed to send her over the edge into blissful oblivion.
Her voice hoarse from hollering out his name, Savannah giggled when seconds after Jasper’s own voice silenced, there was a tremendous thump from within the forest.
***
But that had been hours ago. Now, Savannah sat on a hard metal chair with a coarse wool blanket around her shoulders trying to give her statement to the police. The stench of charred wood and something far more dire swarmed her senses.
They’d arrived at the rodeo shortly before it had started. She’d wanted to get there hours before but had allowed herself to be continually distracted by Jasper. Savannah prayed he still wanted her this much after the baby was born.
Cody had explained a few alterations he’d made in the lineup and the association had mandated a few more safety rules since the last time they’d been open for business. Two steers had been sold to pay for renovations and upkeep. Everything was more expensive, it seemed. There were two brand-new riders—one female, one male—on the circuit. He’d agreed to let them compete as a favor to a friend from high school, but he hadn’t been convinced either was ready for the big time.
Overall, Cody had proved he had his act together. At least, he didn’t have another entity inside him beating against his skull. Being in full control of your own mind and body had its advantages.
After lots of discussion in between sex during the morning, Jasper had ruled it too dangerous to perform an exorcism to rid Savannah of her whack job mom currenting holed up somewhere inside while she was pregnant. But having not one but two others sharing her body, made Savannah resentful watching Cody running “her” rodeo. More than once she’d made a snippy comment, low enough that only Jasper heard—thankfully.
Then, the new barrel racer had shot out of the gate at a breakneck pace, cutting around the obstacles like a ballerina pirouetting on Savannah’s horse—Baretta. She knew Baretta’s movements as well as she did her own body. She heard the pounding of the horse’s hooves on the dirt, the rush of wind as they rounded a barrel, and the cheers of the crowd. All the things she’d ever wanted for herself back when Mama Wedgefield had kept her trodden down as the company’s bull fighter—also known as the rodeo clown.
The cowgirl had beat everyone’s time, including a new personal best record according to the announcer.
The resounding roar of the crowd had blown fresh oxygen onto the embers burning in Savannah’s soul, igniting a roaring inferno set to explode.
And that had been the last thing she remembered before waking up to sirens screeching, hollers from frantic rodeo hands, frightened cries, and the thunder of a stampede.
***
Jasper blamed himself. He should’ve been more cautious with Savannah. How many times had they discussed how she considered herself a danger to others, including their unborn child? Manea was still plotting inside Savannah to get out and wreak havoc on the world. Savannah had yet to learn how to control the entity vying to possess her, but she’d established some control through meditation and grounding exercises they’d been working on over the last week.
It had been too soon.
No, he had just been too blinded with love and hope to admit she wasn’t better. She was still a danger.
He slumped over in the tiny metal folding chair, raking his hands through his hair. Savannah had been escorted to the rodeo manager’s office once she’d awakened from her trance. The cops had wanted to speak to her alone. They had no proof she’d caused the ruckus. How could they? And the truth, they’d never accept.
During the events, he’d sensed Savannah’s resentment in the grim set of her jaw and her ramrod straight posture. The sunglasses she had worn did nothing to disguise the pain racing through every vein of her body. She’d requested he describe everything to her but would fill in her own narration based on the sounds and smells. She’d commented on every bull rider’s skill and that of the bulls, too. She truly knew the cowboys and the animals thoroughly. After living the rodeo life for so many years, she should, he guessed. But with every event that passed, her aura dimmed to the dark gray of storm clouds across the desert sky.
He should’ve taken her away from there.
Then the new cowgirl—Tammy Sue—had been announced. Her hair had cascaded over her shoulders and down her back like ribbons the color of raven wings, reminding him a bit of his pal, Greylyn. But it was the horse that had captured his attention. It was the same animal he’d first witnessed Savannah riding when he’d pulled up to the rodeo so many months before. Savannah’s horse, Baretta, had bolted out of the gate like hell’s fire was chasing her. She’d twirled around the barrels with more grace than the most talented professional ballerina at a pace that made horse and rider appear more as a colorful blur against the backdrop of dirt and dust plumes kicked up by Baretta’s hooves.
He”d peeked at Savannah under lowered lashes to see how she was handling the situation. Her horse. Her event—at least the event she’d always wanted to compete in. And this little girl, barely sixteen years old, was living Savannah’s dream. All he’d seen was the piercing white light bursting from her eye sockets.
That’s when the screaming started.
Smoke hung heavy in the air; its stringent stench stung his eyes and choked the air in his lungs. The injured had been escorted to the hospital with a couple or more having to be sent by helicopter to a bigger facility in Butte, or had it been Bozeman?
Swallowing the last drops of water from a paper cup one of the officers had given him, Jasper reined in the frustrated bellow building in his chest. He could’ve stopped all this, could’ve kept it from happening. But he’d failed all these people. Failed those Savannah loved from the rodeo. Failed Savannah and his child.
Now the woman he loved would have to live with the knowledge of…
Two dead.
Eighteen critically injured.
Fifteen horses still unaccounted for. Five bulls with second degree burns.
Baretta lamed.
And one sheriff, three deputies not believing a word she said.