Cautiously Jagger crept forward, his powerful frame low to the ground, his great head moving about as his eyes took in every single detail of the mess in front of him. Dark stains along the edges of a ruined tent drew his attention, and cautiously he moved closer, his nose to the ground as tension hung low in his belly.
It was definitely blood, but he felt a huge wave of relief when he realized it didn’t belong to the woman he was seeking.
It wasn’t human, that he was sure of, and he shook his head slightly as he once more tried to puzzle out the subtle differences. It wasn’t something he’d ever come across before.
The camp appeared deserted, and for a few seconds the black jaguar contemplated his next move. There were too many scents intermingled with the sickly stench of death, and it was hard for him to filter out the singular trace he was searching for.
He continued forward and when he spied the body of a downed jaguar, his massive frame froze, as the putrid odor of violence clung to the carcass.
Something terrible had happened here, and his gut roiled at the leftover feelings of terror and pain that shrouded the encampment like a fine mist of misery. His need to find the mystery woman was paramount, and his senses went on high alert.
He had just made it to the far end of the clearing when a sound caught at him, and he whipped his head toward the thick jungle that lined the perimeter opposite him.
Adrenaline rifled through his veins and he loped forward until he cleared the immediate perimeter and plunged into the thick interior once more.
The jungle quieted, and he growled softly as the pangs of frustration threatened to spill out. He slowed his heart rate and concentrated, all of his senses open to any movement whatsoever. He edged toward a rotted mess of downed trees, and when he came abreast of it, his heart took off like a rocket as his body shot a second load of adrenaline hard through his veins.
A struggle had recently occurred and the smell of fear and rage was heavy in the air. He sniffed at a large dark stain that was obviously blood and his mouth lolled open as he tried to force the bitterness of it from his nasal passages.
He studied the ground, and from the looks of things, three different warriors had attacked a single person, a male judging by the footprints.
Jagger followed them, but when they disappeared, he held back, clearly puzzled. It was as if the person who’d been attacked had vanished into thin air. A feeling of unease washed over him, and for the first time in a long time, he was truly stumped. He couldn’t make sense of the clues left in the jungle.
Some serious shit had gone down here recently, bad mojo all around. He had a feeling black magick was at play, maybe heavily involved.
He barked once, low and soft. The need to find the blond woman gnawed at his gut with a burn that wouldn’t go away. But was it worth it? Should he not just turn around and hightail it back to his cave and forget he ever laid eyes on her?
Any other smart man probably would, but as the late afternoon sun began to wane, Jagger knew he wasn’t out here playing it smart. He was out here because he needed to be. He knew that his self-imposed exile was about to end. He could feel it, deep in his bones, and surprisingly, he was okay with it.
His gut clenched in excitement. In fact, he was more than okay with it.
Should he run away? Move on?
The questions flew into his mind and were discarded equally as fast. He snarled and flexed the powerful muscles in his body.
He was a Castille and would not leave a lone woman out here in the jungle at the mercy of the pack of shifters he’d come across. Indeed the blood that pounded through his body literally sang the warrior chant.
He realized then that he’d been too long from the fight. He craved it like food, and as a loud growl erupted from deep within his chest, he welcomed the chance to meet it headlong.
Fortunately for the great cat, the battle was about to land in his lap, as a scream that could wake the dead sliced through the quiet jungle and a flash of blond streaked at him from his right.
He had no time to react. He took the hit, cushioning the body that had lain so close to him only hours earlier.
They rolled together into the warm moist earth, and Jagger twisted in an effort to avoid the deadly looking machete that was aimed, straight and true, toward his groin. It wasn’t easy. The satchel was still entwined along his body and he immediately called the mist to him, his great paws doing their best to avoid slashing the soft, creamy skin that was now trapped between them.
The little hellion was swearing viscously, and he felt the burn of metal through flesh as she successfully nicked his left leg. His growl erupted into a full-blown curse as his human form shimmered and the fur fell from his limbs to reveal a long expanse of muscled limbs.
“Jesus Christ, hold still.”
She tried to bite his forearm and Jagger felt his patience wear thin, as her leg aimed for the delicate area between his legs.
There was no way in hell he’d let her get anywhere near his balls again.
He grunted as he tossed her onto her back, and was on top of her in less than a second, her arms splayed out above her head and held captive by his own.
She struggled and he was surprised at the strength she possessed, but he tried not to hurt her as he looked down into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. They were huge, startling in their clarity, as if cut from a sapphire.
And they were pissed.