Journey with Joe (Middlemarch Capture Book 5) Page 9

  Mungo tried to swim to her, but the water was too powerful. The swift current dragged her downstream, away from the steed. It yanked her under and, despite her clawing hands, the force of the current never popped her up until her lungs burned for air. A rock gouged her arm, and water closed over her head again. She grasped for rocks, for overhanging branches but the stream swept her away, swept her toward the falls. The torrent carried her around the corner. She bobbled upward.

  Over there.

  If only she could get to the shallows, to the lower incline. She could climb to safety there.

  Mungo struggled against the flow, fought the current with every muscle. To no avail. The water swept her onward.

  She heard a panicked scream. The prisoner. She watched him vanish over the fall.

  Sweet charity.

  The water churned and bubbled. Rocks jabbed and poked her limbs. She sank, came up briefly and gasped for air.

  Then, she was falling. Couldnae fight the powerful water. Couldnae see. Couldnae breathe.

  Joe shifted and approached Harriet, speaking to her in a soothing voice. He untangled the reins from her front leg and ran his hand over her quivering striped side. He led her toward the grassland above the water, carefully studying her gait. She appeared unharmed.

  “Pretty girl,” he crooned, petting her again. God, where was Mungo? If she died, he’d never forgive himself.

  Harriet grazed, and Joe removed the reins, so she wouldn’t tangle herself. He doubted she’d wander far.

  “Joe,” a voice said.

  Joe halted and glanced behind him. It was Callander. His two enforcers stood beside him, still in wolf-form.

  “Where’s the prisoner?”

  “I think he toppled over the falls. He abducted Mungo at stunner-point. I have to find her.”

  Joe shifted, and Callander did the same. He raced down the hill with the three werewolves and tried not to think about what he might find.

  The waterfall poured into a big, round pond. Joe scanned the banks and his heart squeezed tight. It was Mungo, and she wasn’t moving.

  He shifted and ran to her, fear engulfing him as he dragged her clear of the water. With a trembling hand, he checked for a pulse. His breath hissed out and briefly, he hugged her to him.

  “Is your girl alive?”

  “Yes.”

  “Our prisoner isn’t,” Callander said in a gruff voice.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Nope. He’s wanted dead or alive. They intended to execute him, anyway. This will save the officials the problem.”

  Joe glanced at the prisoner the two enforcers dragged from the water. A collision with a rock had crushed in the side of his head.

  “It’s the shape of your steed’s hoof,” Callander said. “I’d heard they took a dislike to some.”

  Joe frowned. “Mungo was riding the horse with the prisoner.”

  “If your girl fell off leaving the prisoner in control, the steed might’ve reacted.”

  Joe nodded, not taking his gaze off Mungo. “What will you do now?”

  “We’ll call our pilot and get him to collect us.”

  Joe smoothed Mungo’s hair from her face. Her trews had a rip on the leg and the copper tang of blood rose to his nostrils. He figured she’d scraped herself on rocks. At least her heart beat strongly. She’d live, and he prayed she’d forgive him for not protecting her.

  “Thank you for signaling us,” Callander said. “We feared you might not.”

  “I have no desire to get into the bounty hunting business.” Joe raised his attention from Mungo to meet Callander’s gaze. “I’m a farmer. I enjoy working the land.”

  Mungo groaned but didn’t open her eyes.

  “I should go.” Joe cradled Mungo close, needing her proximity. “It’s not far back to my friends.”

  “We could give you a ride,” Callander said.

  “Thanks, but I need to collect the horse, and I doubt we’ll make the tide. My cousins and friends will have crossed the land bridge to the island by now.” At least he hoped they had. After meeting Adair Caimbeulach and hearing about Mungo’s family unease stirred within him. Add in the werewolves’ warning and he thought it wise to place a sea between them.

  Callander nodded and handed Joe another of his electronic tags. “Take this. If you ever require aid, we will come.”

  Joe studied the werewolf’s face and saw nothing but sincerity. “You don’t have to do that.”

  The two enforcers grunted while Callander barked out a laugh. “Most species we deal with try to double-cross us. They demand a cut of the bounty or attempt to steal our quarry after we’ve captured them. You have done neither, which earns you a future favor.”

  Joe nodded. “Thank you. If you’re ever on Ione Island, come and visit me. I and my brothers would welcome you.”

  The enforcers grunted again, drawing Joe’s attention.

  “Another first,” Callander explained.

  “I mean it.” Joe gathered Mungo and rose. “Thanks.”

  As he climbed the hill with Mungo, he heard the rumble of voices, discussing their prisoner. Joe sweated freely by the time he reached the open pasture where he’d left Harriet. The horse raised her head from her grazing and nickered a welcome. He set down Mungo in the shade of a tree and brushed the long strands of red hair from her face. She showed no signs of waking and worry seeped through him. He’d prefer her awake and plotting against him or calling him a clot-heid in that strangely attractive brogue of hers.

  He checked her for wounds and found nothing more serious than cuts and scrapes. The bump on her head worried him more, but her breathing appeared normal. Since they’d miss the tide today, he’d make camp here for the night, and they’d leave early in the morning.

  Harriet’s saddlebags yielded nothing. Not surprising. Duncan had probably cleaned them out before they had handed over Harriet to the escaped prisoner. He stroked Harriet and checked her for injuries. She, too, bore scrapes and small cuts, but nothing serious. Next, he gathered some pink ferns to make a more comfortable bed and sat beside Mungo to wait.

  The hours passed and darkness settled over the landscape. Joe tied Harriet close to the makeshift bed. Mungo was sleeping peacefully, and he settled alongside her to share body warmth. He’d slept beside her for the last two nights, the habit natural and right to his feline side. He drew their bodies closer. Hopefully, she’d wake soon.

  Without warning, an elbow shot into his ribs. He grunted and barely dodged a knee to his balls. Joy suffused him, despite the danger to his person.

  “Mungo, you’re awake. How is your head?”

  “Joe?” Mungo ceased her struggles. “Is that ye, Joe?”

  “Of course it’s me,” he said. “Who did you think it would be?”

  “Ye let that brute take me. Ye turned yer back and walked away. Ye told him ye dinnae care.”

  “As soon as you were out of sight, I followed. I will never leave you.” Joe pulled her to him. “I about died of shock when I saw the waterfall. You didn’t hear my shouts.”

  Mungo shivered. “I remember trying to claw my way upward, then everything goes hazy. What happened to the man?”

  “Dead,” Joe said. “He had a Harriet-size print in his skull.”

  “Once I heard the waterfall, I jumped off Harriet. Harriet bucked. She turfed him off. I heard his screech, but the water swept me away and I dinnae see what happened.”

  “You need not worry anymore. The werewolves arrived and took him away.”

  “Werewolves?”

  “Bounty hunters. We met them before you joined us.”

  She snorted and the spurt of derision pushed his lips into a grin.

  “Ye mean when ye abducted me.”

  Joe pressed a kiss to her temple. “I came for you because you matter.”

  She issued a sigh, and it cut Joe. He opened his mouth to reassure her then considered her relationship with her family. Apart from her stepmother, she hadn’t received the sa
me love and support as he and his brothers. A few days acquaintance wasn’t enough to overcome years of emotional abuse.

  Instead, he rolled her onto her back and leaned over her. The first brush of lips was barely enough for a taste. When Mungo kissed him back, he deepened the contact, relief uppermost in his heart. His mate had survived. He had her in his arms, and now he had a better chance to woo her during the days of travel required to arrive at the resort.

  Mungo dinnae ken whether to celebrate or wail at her recapture. Joe had come for her. He’d left his precious coos and tracked them. He’d risked everything he cared about for her. Mungo’s heart ached at the unexpected knowledge, unsure of what to do or how to react. Her arms wrapped around him, and she froze.

  Bare shoulders.

  “Where are yer clothes?”

  “Back on the beach. Duncan hid them for me. It was quicker and safer for me to travel in feline form.”

  Mungo glanced downward. A pity it was blacklight.

  Joe’s chuckle dragged her gaze back to his face. “’Tis not seemly for you to peek.”

  “Ye’re laughing at me.”

  “A little,” he said. “You should try to sleep. We must leave early to catch the tide right and join up with my cousins.”

  Mungo gazed up at him, ultra-aware of his strength and his inner goodness. In that instant, she considered a future away from the clan. Her family. Although she’d kenned the men for a few cycles, they’d never struck her. Never treated her with anything other than respect.

  “I’m not tired. Tell me more about yer home on Ione Island. Will ye ever return to yer first home? The other planet?”

  “Not now,” Joe said. “We’ve put down roots on Ione and have ties to other communities and species on the planet. Sure, I miss Earth. I miss our farm and the life we had there, but if we returned, things will have changed. I don’t know if they discovered a cure for the feline virus that decimated our population. We have no idea where it came from. We heard rumors the government released the virus on purpose because they thought we’d become too powerful.”

  “From what ye have told me, yer people have different things to us.”

  “You mean technology?”

  Mungo frowned at the word. “Our way of life is simple.”

  “Doesn’t mean it’s bad,” Joe said. “Just different. Technology is stuff and possessing it doesn’t make for happiness. You’ll see how the resort works once we arrive. I think you’ll like my mother, sister, and sisters-in-law.”

  But would they accept her? “What if they hate me?” Was she truly thinking of going with Joe? Tingly warmth suffused her as she considered the future. He’d put her first. No one had ever done that for her before.

  “I like you and that is all that matters.” Joe followed up his statement with a kiss.

  Not one of his gentle caring kisses, but deeper and more sexual. Passionate. Heat roared through her on the tail of her warm thoughts. A sense of need for more. His hands wandered and skimmed beneath the hem of the soft shirt he’d given her. His callused fingers sent urgency crawling through her veins. Her breasts prickled, an unusual heaviness making her aware of her femininity. Instinct had her wriggling to get closer.

  “If you don’t cease your squirming, I’ll forget I’m a gentleman.”

  Mungo stilled. “I dinnae believe I’ve ever met one of those.”

  She giggled at Joe’s grunt, enjoying the way she could say anything, even insult him and his friends, and he didn’t backhand her or take offense.

  “Are you insulting me? I heard you call the escaped prisoner a clot-heid.” Humor sounded in his tone now. Laughter.

  “He was an eejit. How he expected Harriet to mimic a nimble-footed goat and climb the cliff, I have nay idea. The man died because of his stubbornness.”

  “The bounty hunters were chasing him. That made him take risks.”

  Joe’s arms squeezed her, holding her tighter for an instant. The pressure against her bruises and cuts hurt, but she never protested the flash of pain. The contact healed and delighted her since apart from Reilynn and Janeet, no one ever touched her with affection.

  “C-can I explore ye?” Heat gathered in her face at her forward manner.

  “All you need to do is ask.” Joe released her and turned onto his back. She caught a flash of his grin in the scant light from a moon. “Stroke me wherever you want.”

  Her gaze flashed down his body and back to his face. “Anywhere?”

  “Anywhere,” he repeated. “I desire you. I crave your hands on me.”

  A tremble shook her fingers as she reached out to touch him of her own volition. She placed her hand flat on the middle of his chest. The warmth struck her first, and her breath whooshed out in astonishment when she registered the rapid beat of his heart.

  “Is that all you intend to do?”

  Mungo stared at him, wishing for whitelight and perfect vision. “N-nay.”

  “Do I make you nervous?”

  “Nay,” she snapped, embarrassed by her lack of experience.

  “You shouldn’t be. I don’t bite.” He waited a beat. “Much.”

  Mungo snorted. “Dinnae forget. I’ve seen yer teeth.”

  “Touch me, Mungo. Please.”

  It was the please that reassured her more than anything. That and the blacklight she’d bemoaned a mere instant earlier. She sucked in a breath and slid her palm across his muscular chest. His skin was a darker color than that of her people—likely because he ran around without his shirt while it was cooler in the Highlands. Their men seldom removed their tunics.

  She’d seen him and his cousins naked several times. Their nakedness didn’t appear to bother them. While decency bade her to avert her gaze, curiosity had tempted her to sneak a peek or two. She slid her hand across his flat belly, explored the ridges of muscle that rippled with each move. She hesitated.

  “Touch me, Mungo,” he whispered, his voice rough and gritty.

  Her hand slid lower still until she reached his tadger. “It’s grown.”

  “You make it so,” he said with a broad smile. “Continue, please. I enjoy your hand on my cock.”

  She curled her hand around his shaft, the flesh silky hot beneath her touch. Her fingers flexed, and he groaned.

  “Joe?”

  “You’re gonna kill me,” he said.

  The amusement in his tone reassured her.

  “Like this.” His bigger hands curled around hers. He demonstrated an up and down motion, and when she followed his silent instructions, he groaned again.

  She stopped to peer through the blacklight.

  “Don’t stop.”

  “I’m not sure what to do.”

  “I’m happy to be your playground.”

  His words confused her, and she struggled to comprehend the meaning.

  “What if I explore you and we go from there?”

  She considered his suggestion, thought of Reilynn and her strict instructions to stay away from men. Not that they ever noticed her, anyway. She swallowed. The truth. She wanted this, and Reilynn was far away in the Highlands. She’d never ken Mungo’s behavior.

  “Aye,” Mungo said.

  “Thank you, God,” Joe muttered.

  In an instant, he lifted her body and resettled her carefully on the pile of ferns. Even now, he showed his caring nature, considering her bumps and contusions. He pressed his lips to hers, and the tension that had slid into her gut lessened. She welcomed his kiss and opened to his questing tongue. Her hands lifted to wind around his neck and hold him close should he halt before she was ready. Finally, he parted their lips to kiss the tip of her nose, her eyelids. He trailed a line of kisses down her jaw and she giggled when he unexpectedly nipped her neck.

  A harsh sigh escaped him when he reached the spot where her neck and shoulder met. His tongue licked over the fleshy pad, the sensation rough and slightly abrasive. His tongue swept back and forward until every nerve ending sang a tune of delight.

  Joe’s te
eth scraped over her neck, and his big body trembled without warning. He cursed—a word she dinnae ken, but the tone told her of his mood.

  “Joe?” Nerves now danced through her stomach. Had she done something wrong?

  “Shush, sweetheart.” His warm breath drifted across her neck before he levered upward.

  “Did I do something wrong?” She dinnae need to pretend her confusion.

  “Can I remove your T-shirt?”

  Her gaze rushed to his glowing eyes. In the blacklight, they appeared more yellow than the true green. Faintly menacing. “A-aye.”

  “If you want me to stop, tell me. I refuse to force myself on you.”

  Their gazes remained connected, yet she read nothing in his expression. Cursed blacklight. All she saw was his glowing yellow eyes, which should’ve been enough to scare her into fleeing. Instead, she took a leap of faith and went with her gut. In the short time she’d kenned him, he’d kept his word and behaved with decency. And he’d come for her. She couldnae forget that truth.

  “I trust ye, Joe Mitchell.”

  Joe helped her to sit. “Lift your arms, Mungo Caimbeulach.”

  His teasing tone returned, and the last vestiges of anxiety dissipated. She lifted her arms and Joe whisked the shirt over her head.

  “Should I remove my breast band?”

  “Let’s remove all your clothes.”

  “A-all?”

  “You can see me. I’d enjoy seeing you in return.”

  “Aye.”

  Joe disrobed her with brisk rapidity as if he feared she might change her mind. The realization he was trusting her and was equally uncertain of her reactions and thoughts eased her last reservations. Despite Reilynn’s stern voice whispering through her mind, she wanted this next step.

  “You’re beautiful, Mungo.”

  “Nay.”

  “I love your bright red hair and the way it glows like fire in the sunlight.” He combed his fingers through the curly strands, using care so he dinnae tug at the knots. His big hands cupped her skull and rubbed. “Your brown eyes remind me of caramel and whisky, and each time I see the tiny tilt of your nose I want to kiss it.” His lips skimmed her nose before he kissed each eyelid. “Then there is your chin. It often lifts with a trace of arrogance and determination. It hints at your bravery and courage.”