The Jackal (Black Dagger Brotherhood - Prison Camp 1)

As Nyx spoke, she was aware of Jack’s utter stillness. And going by his lack of movement, she guessed that she’d shocked him.

“I suppose I shouldn’t really be saying any of this.” She shrugged to downplay the very important things she’d given airtime to. “But something about almost getting shot full of holes—for the second time in twenty-four hours, or was it the third or fourth?—makes me want to talk.”

The joke fell flat, even to her own ears. “Sorry.”

“Nyx . . .”

“I know. I’ll stop.” She forced herself to eat more even though she wasn’t tasting anything. “So what’s the new plan?”

Jack looked away to the wall. When he refocused on her, his expression was neutral. “I have to go find the others. We’re going to need them again.”

“Will Lucan and Mayhem get into another convenient ‘fight’?” She put air quotes around the word. “Or is there another strategy this time. At this point, I’m open to anything.”

As she waited for him to talk, she wanted to touch him. She wanted to hold him. But she stayed where she was and finished the food as he watched her eat.

“Let’s check your shoulder,” he said. “And then I’ll go round them up.”

“Okay.”

As Nyx went to pull off the tunic, she winced. Her shoulder did hurt, as it turned out. Who knew?

She took off her windbreaker, too, and pulled the sleeve of her T-shirt up. “Oh . . . yeah, it is bleeding.”

In spite of the fact that she had managed to save herself and had somehow gotten here, she felt like she was making a mess out of everything.

When there was a shifting sound, she glanced up. Jack had come over, and as he bent down to inspect the injury, a flush went through her body.

“It’s reopened,” he said grimly. “I wish I could stitch it up for you. And there’s no way I can take you to the infirmary.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“When you take my vein, yes, it will.”

His stark statement made her recall another ubiquitous phrase, one that was used far and wide when not-so-hot ideas were brought up in whatever way they were: Now is not the time, and here is not the place.

It covered things nicely at this moment. The problem was not his vein. It was what was going to happen the instant she took it: Now was definitely not-time/not-place for her to get him good and naked. Not that she would take it for granted that he’d be down for that again.

Meanwhile, as he stared across at her, his astonishing blue eyes were level. Calm. Reasonable. “I promise it won’t lead anywhere.”

All she could do was shake her head at herself. “It’s not you I’m worried about,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She rubbed her eyes. “No, actually, I don’t want to lie to you. The truth is, I fear the taste of you.”

“Why’s that?”

One more thing to mourn, she thought.

“I’m going to want all of you,” she replied roughly as she looked over at him.

His eyes flared, as if she’d surprised him. And then he lowered his lids to half-mast.

“I will never tell you no.” His voice was a sexy rasp as he spoke. “Not ever.”

Before she could respond, he pulled up the sleeve of his tunic and extended his arm. “Take my wrist.”

Her eyes locked on the veins that ran from the base of his palm up the inside of his forearm. They were heavy compared to her own, and beneath the cover of his flesh, she could see the pulse.

Hunger surged and made her shake. From anticipation.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked him, thinking of that cell he had stopped in front of. That female he was so tied to, regardless of what he’d said.

“You need me,” he replied. As if that explained everything.

“When I came here in the dark,” she said, “I had nothing to guide me, and that increased my fear until I was choking on my paranoia. As soon as I was sure that I had not been followed, I lit one single candle. It increased my risk, but it was a small thing, and it grounded me. It kept me from losing it. If I can understand just one piece of who you are, it’ll be like that single candle. It will ground me.”

Jack dropped his head. As the silence stretched out, she didn’t try to persuade him. He had to make up his own mind—and still his vein lay exposed between them, the temptation so strong, she clenched her hands into fists. She knew, though, that these were going to be among her last moments with him.

“Or tell me why the female in that cell doesn’t affect us,” she prompted with a helpless shrug. “Just give me something to go on. Anything.”

“There is no female for me.” His voice was hoarse. “Nothing affects us . . . because you are the only one I have. The only one I want.”