Violet Midnight (Violet Night Trilogy) (3 page)

Penetrating violet eyes stared back at Jake. Had they been spears, they would have pierced his soul. Jake curled his hand behind her neck as she rolled onto her back. Aftershock coughs followed for a few breaths, but her focus never deviated.

He wanted to spew out a thousand questions after what he’d seen—or at least
thought
he’d seen—but a crowd, three people thick, encircled them.

“What’s going on out here? What—” Cynthia parted the sea of people like Moses had the river Jordan. “Jake?”

“Buddy, what happened?” Dylan fell to his knees beside Jake.

“Fished her out of the pool.” Jake latched his focus on her entrancing jewels again. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Good.” She pushed herself up and Jake leaned back onto his haunches.

“Whoa. Hold on.” Dylan reached for her.

Faster than Jake registered it, she batted his hand away.

“Hey. I didn’t—you shouldn’t move too quickly. Did you hit your head?” Dylan asked, hands up in surrender.

“Sorry.” She shook her head as if chastising herself for her reaction, then touched her neck. She pulled her fingers away and analyzed them.

Just smooth, ivory skin. There were two small tears in her shirt, near the shoulder, but other than that, she seemed to be fine.

But why wasn’t she shivering? The frigid water had begun working its way into Jake’s muscles already. They constricted, sending an ache into his joints as he squatted beside the drenched beauty. But he didn’t want to move.

No, he wanted to lean in and kiss her, wipe away the droplets of water beading above her upper lip. What would she taste like? He took in her soggy body. Tight, drenched clothing clung to every contour of her lean frame.

“Getting a good look, buddy?”

Jake coughed into his hand and stood. “Sorry. Are you okay?”

“Other than nearly drowning, sitting on hard concrete, and being soaked to the bone, I’m just peachy.”

Cynthia giggled at Dylan’s side. “Well, come on.” She reached for Violet Eyes, but the girl waved Cynthia off.

“I got this. Thanks.” She leaned to the side and made her way to her feet, then peeled her shirt away from her body.

Damn, Jake was a jerk for staring. But how could he resist? It’d been so long since he’d been with a woman. Two years, nearly to the day. Ever since the changes started. He didn’t trust himself. But never had he felt the ache more than at this moment.

This very
inappropriate
moment.

He shoved his hands into his front pockets to hide the evidence of his desire.

“Emma?” The blonde Jake had seen Violet Eyes with earlier barreled through the crowd, the dark haired guy in tow. “Oh my gosh, Em. Are you okay?”

Emma. Nice name.

“Yeah. Come on. Let’s go.” Emma cast a glimpse at Jake as she reached for her friend’s hand. “Kinda wet here.”

“No way. It’s freezing out. You can’t walk home like this.” Ava shook her head.

“Exactly.” Cynthia stepped forward. “Let’s get these guys cleaned up. I’ll show you to a room.” She stood straight and waved toward the crowd. “Okay, everyone. It’s all good. Go crack open another keg.”

“No. I’m fine. It’s only a half-mile home. Really—”

Ava snared Emma’s hand and lugged her forward, right behind Cynthia.

“Come on, man.” Dylan backhanded Jake’s chest. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Jake followed Dylan as everyone else disbursed, murmuring things he couldn’t make out. Had anyone else seen this mysterious Emma do the things she’d done? Flashes of light above her hand and weapons appearing. She fought that…
thing
…with the strength of ten men.

Saved that girl.

Maybe Emma’s like me.

“So, you push her in so you could get a good look?” Dylan asked in a hushed voice.

“Very funny.”

“Kidding. What happened, though?”

“Not sure.” How could Jake tell him Emma took on three huge guys—if that’s what they were—and handled them like a highly trained Marine or something, until one got her in the water.

Jake had dived in to help but there was nothing but dark, hazy water surrounding her as she was reaching for him.

But who is Gabriel?

“Good thing you were around and got her out. Kinda cold to be in the pool. Probably drunk and fell in, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Jake followed the train of Cynthia, Ava, Emma and Dylan through that darkened set of sliding glass doors on the ground level. A light flipped on, revealing an expansive game room, complete with pool table and full bar.

“Wow. Nice place,” Ava said as they padded across the room to a door on the far side.

“This is a back way to get us to the hallway to Greg’s room.” Dylan opened the door and gestured up the stairs. “I’m sure he won’t mind lending you some clothes.”

“Greg. As in Greg Adams?” Jake asked.

Dylan cast a look over his shoulder. “Yeah. You know him?”

“Sure. Senior Psych Major. Showed me around the department when I got here last week.” Squirrely guy, but nice enough. “He mentioned he was in a fraternity.”

“Yeah. Small campus.”

Jake ambled into the stairwell. To the right sat another door, but Dylan steered them to the left and up the stairs.

Dylan moved to the front of the line and said, “I’ll go on ahead to see if I can track him down and find you some clothes or a robe or something.”

Jake kept on the train to the top of the stairs. This time, he was behind Emma and had the most beautiful view. Her butt curved out and drew the jeans tight in exactly the places that made Jake’s breath hitch.

“I can feel you staring at me.” She scrutinized him from over her shoulder.

“No—I wasn’t—”

“Okay. Here.” Cynthia waved them forward.

She pushed open a wood door and reached inside. A light clicked on, and Jake stepped into a world of blue and white. A bed to his right flanked by two end tables and a TV stand at the foot of the disheveled bed. At the far end of the room, below a dark window, sat a desk with books strewn across it.

“Ava, come on,” Cynthia said. “Let’s find these fish a robe or something so they can get out of the wet clothes.”

“No. Really—”

“Zip it, roomie. No pneumonia on my watch.” Ava strode out behind Cynthia.

Emma faced Jake and crossed her arms over her chest.

Great. A guarded, defensive, and seemingly angry girl. No, not a girl, a woman. Emma, even in her defensiveness was still the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. How would Jake ask her about what he’d seen?

“So, your name’s Emma?” Jake edged further into the room. The dark blue paint on the walls made the space feel small, or maybe it was Emma’s commanding presence. The strength Jake had seen her exhibit earlier was amazing. It made her seem bigger and taller than her trim five-foot-five, a hundred and fifteen pound frame.

“And you’re Jake or is it Jacob?” She inched back toward the TV.

“It’s Jacob, but everyone calls me Jake.” He eased the door partially closed. “I need to ask you something.”

She stood straight and widened her stance.

He checked behind him and took a breath. Quickly, while they were alone, he had to get it out. “What
are
you?”

“What am I? You mean what sorority am I? Or—”

“No.” Jake crept forward until only three feet separated them. “I mean,
what
are you? Those three men…whatever they were—”

Emma let out the loudest, hopefully believable, fake laugh she could muster considering the circumstances. He’d seen everything.

Mind-wipe time.

“They were just drunk dudes, knocked me in—”

“No they weren’t. Look. It’s okay. I—things—I understand different.” Jake eyed the partially closed door across the room. “You can trust me.”

Emma huffed. Trust. Yeah, right. Two years ago, almost to the day, her life went bonkers. Strange things happened to her after the crash that killed her parents. She trusted no one, let alone a total and complete stranger.

No matter how drawn to him she felt.

He seized her wrist before she’d even registered he’d moved. Too distracted by his dominating presence in the small room.

She tugged at his grip, but he held fast.

Wait—was that warmth? He cuffed her wrist with his strong, able fingers. The same fingers that had caressed her spine so gently as she coughed half the pool from her lungs.

Damn water
.

She hadn’t noticed any heat then, or when he had held her neck, maybe because of wet clothes and hair. But now, there was no clothing, no water to obstruct the direct skin-to-skin contact. It sent a dizzying heat up her forearm, over her shoulder and straight to her chest.

She’d not felt warmth—any fluctuation in temperature—in two years. Her lungs tightened, forcing her to take small gasps for air. God she missed heat. She missed cuddling. Missed human touch.

And he wasn’t even asking about her cold skin.

Probably assumed it was from the water. Didn’t matter. She let the tension roll out into his grip and absorbed the sensual feelings penetrating her barriers.
Just for a minute
.

“Interesting tattoo.” He turned her hand, exposing her wrist.

Damn, she’d lost her watch in the water!

He stood so close his breath whispered against her cheek. How could she smell a heady, earthy scent emanating from him through the chlorine saturating his clothing and hair?

“Does it mean something?” he asked.

Emma shook her head, too lost in his touch heating her blood to verbalize a response. Not that she’d tell him it identified her as a Hunter, a protector with kick-ass powers. Or that it appeared on her skin overnight, while she lay in a hospital bed after the crash two years ago.

With his free hand, he traced the arrow, and Emma’s legs morphed into wet noodles. She leaned against the desk, not having realized she’d backed up so far. Thankfully she had, because it kept her vertical.

What was happening to her?

His finger followed the pulsing blue vein to the crook of her elbow, up her arm until his hand cupped her shoulder, all the while, he held her wrist tight with his other hand. His already nearly black eyes darkened as the pupils ate up the dark irises. His gaze shifted, and his tongue moistened his plump, completely lickable bottom lip.

The heat that’d ignited in her heart suddenly pooled in her belly—very low in her belly.

He leaned forward, mouth only inches from hers. Even his breath on her lips was warm. Amazing. How could she feel warmth with his touch when she couldn’t with any other person?

Need more.

“I saw how strong you were. How you fought them off.” He stepped into her. “And this tattoo. I’ve seen it before.”

Oh, God.

“It’s a symbol of power. Apollo and Artemis.” His voice went husky.

“How do you know that?”

“I know a lot, Emma.” His hand followed the curve of her shoulder until he caressed the nape of her neck. “Why’d you pick this mark to put on your skin?”

A wave of heat stormed through her. “I didn’t choose it.” Emma licked her lips in anticipation. “Woke up with it two years ago.”

She stretched toward him, and the softest, warmest lips met hers. He tensed, probably at the cool temperature of her skin, but she didn’t care. She only craved his warmth. His touch.

So long she’d been without.

He inched forward, and she opened for him. A heavy thigh landed between her legs as his other hand wove around her waist. She drank in his heat. His strong, able body pressed flush against her.

He moaned and tightened his hold. His soft, moist tongue teased her bottom lip, begging entrance, yet not too forcefully. She melted against him. A blanket of comfort, familiarity, and warmth wrapped around her body.

Another gentle knock, and she opened. Their tongues met with a tentative brush, then he tilted her head and dove in. They teased one another until she grew dizzy.

She coiled her arms beneath his and latched onto his shoulders as if he were the anchor she’d been seeking.

The anchor she wanted—she needed.

“Emma. Here, I found—”

Emma ripped herself from Jake’s magnetic embrace, and he shifted back.

“Oh.” Ava coughed as she paraded into the room. “I—here. I found you some dry clothes.”

The haze of lust cleared with each step he took back. But he never shifted his attention from her.

“Yeah. Thanks, Ava.” Emma brushed her fingers over her tingling lips. His warm essence still coated them. “I should get out of these wet clothes.”

Jake gripped his shoulder, still staring at Emma.

“Okay, well, Jake is it?” Ava set Emma’s clothes on the foot of the bed.

“Jake. Yeah.” He stood straight and finally severed eye contact.

“Dylan found you some, too. He’ll be right in.” Ava gave Emma a one finger wave and ducked out the door, leaving it mostly closed.

She reached for the clothes. “Look. I’m sorry. I—”

A warm set of fingers gently grasped her arm, right above the elbow, and she stopped, but stayed focused on the clothes in her hands. She didn’t dare make eye contact. The feelings, warmth, and confusion storming through her body scared the crap out of her. It was like he called to her.

Emma couldn’t have a boyfriend. She wouldn’t survive losing someone she loved again. She’d almost not survived the first time.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not.” A gentle nudge urged her to face him. He peeled his shirt up over his head and pivoted his body, giving Emma a clear view of his tattooed shoulder. “Because two years ago, I woke up with this.”

A circle with a smaller circle inside. Eight arrows shot out in every direction from the small circle, but within it lay a drawing of a skull. It covered most of his deltoid.

“Did you hear me? I woke up with this. Two years ago, Emma.” He stood straight. “What does this mean?”

She swallowed hard and stepped out of his range. Too close to think straight. It was as if his heat melted her logic, her brain.

“It has to mean something. I saw you do such amazing things out there tonight. Maybe we’re the same. Maybe—”

“Hold on.” She clutched the clothes to her chest. The heat of his kiss still lingered on her mouth. “Let’s think this through. I—”

“Hey, buddy. Got some clothes for you.” Dylan stopped in the doorway.

“Dylan. Can you show me to a bathroom?” Emma asked, stepping toward him.

“Wait. Em,” Jake said.

Emma froze. Only a select few were allowed to call her Em. Three were dead and the other was Ava. No matter what kind of heat Emma felt with Jake, and despite the fact that he woke up with a tattoo on his body like she did, he couldn’t call her Em.

Not yet, anyway.