Truth rang in her voice, but there was also another note, something else he couldn’t quite identify, not even when he was studying her face so carefully.
Camellia turned back toward the grotto, crouching down, her hand disappearing in the mist. “In the meantime, we have to get rid of this threat, regardless of who it’s targeting. Gray indicated there are eight intruders coming this way from over the eastern side of the mountain. They shouldn’t know that you’re up here, but they may if your teammate Jeff is the target. They will have known you got spooked and the three of you came up the mountain.”
Jonas wondered just how she’d gotten that information from the owl. While puzzling that out, he simultaneously went back over her declaration about leaving. She wasn’t trying to challenge him into following her, but she knew he would.
She pulled open what appeared to be a trapdoor built into the floor of the cave. The depression was shallow. Inside was a vest that she slipped over her head. Pulling a bow along with several quivers filled with arrows, she slung them expertly over her shoulder and added various small pots made of shriveled mushrooms. Even the tops to the pots looked as if they were made of the mushroom. The pots appeared to be sealed. She put them inside pockets in the vest. She added three knives to loops in the vest before turning back to him.
“Let’s go. I don’t want them to get this far. Your men will be safe where they are, and we can take most of the team out before they reach us. If we leave one alive, you can question him and find out who they’re after.”
6
When Camellia crouched down to open the trapdoor, Jonas stepped right behind her in order to see exactly what she was doing. The mist had grown thick, taking on a beautiful bluish-lavender tint that seemed to hide the woman very effectively, shrouding her movements, cloaking her in secrecy and mystery. Jonas was having none of it. She’d been right all along. There was no way he would ever let her go if she ran. The hunter in him was far too strong.
The more he realized he didn’t know much about her, the more he needed to know. He loomed over her, using enhanced vision, grateful for his ability to see so well at night. He could see almost as well as an owl. One of Whitney’s enhancements had been to give him a tapetum lucidum at the back of his retinas, essentially a mirror that reflected light back at the rods, allowing him to catch and amplify every bit of light. That should have made his sight blurry during the day, but Whitney had been prepared for that result by giving him the enhancement of eagle sight to call on during daylight hours.
He could see down into Camellia’s neat little storage unit built into the ground. Thick grayish strands of tightly woven wood lined the walls and floor of the unit that despite being built into the floor of the grotto, showed no signs of water intrusion. The cache was surprisingly spacious and held numerous weapons as well as what looked like a go bag she could grab if she needed to leave in a hurry. He would have liked to see what was in that bag.
Camellia selected weapons and readied for battle with sure movements, as if she’d done so a million times, not even looking as she donned a vest and shoved knives into loops.
As she stood and turned around, he didn’t step back, and she rose right into him, bringing them so close it would have been impossible to get more than a piece of paper between them. Her eyes went wide, lashes lifting, gaze meeting his in a kind of shock. Her eyes were even more beautiful up close than he had realized.
“This isn’t good, Jonas,” she whispered.
He felt that feathery voice running through his veins. Settling in his bloodstream. Something wasn’t right and yet it was perfectly right. He ignored the quick shake of her head and settled his fist in the material of her vest, giving her plenty of time to step back away from him.
“Do you have any idea how lethal I am?” Camellia regarded him from under the veil of those dark lashes.
“Yeah, I know. You’re like me. You know hundreds of ways to kill a man. I just saw you put knives in your vest. It doesn’t matter. You think you have to save yourself, I’ll understand, baby, I really will. You go right ahead, do whatever you think you have to do. I just don’t have a choice here.”
He drew her that last little bit closer so their bodies touched. He was careful not to crush her into him. Just letting her rest against him was enough. Feeling her close. Hearing her heartbeat accelerate. He cupped her chin, the first touch of her skin with his. His heart clenched hard in his chest. He had to suppress a groan. He never had reactions like this, but what he felt for her was visceral, tearing at his guts. A recognition, an electrical charge running through his veins, like scorching jabs of lightning that spread through his body to every cell, making him aware of her. Of him. Of them together.
His thumb slid over her lips. Velvet soft. Those generous lips. Did he dare kiss her? If he did, would he ever be free of her? He doubted he could be free of her now, even though he hadn’t kissed her. Already they were tied together in some inexplicable way he didn’t understand, and he didn’t care how it had happened.
“Self-preservation,” she whispered, her lips moving against his thumb.
The movement felt erotic. “Self-preservation seems overrated at the moment,” he replied. “Don’t you want to know what it would feel like?” He deliberately tempted her, his thumb stroking caresses along that sinful curve of her bottom lip. “Just once?”
Her tongue touched the pad of his thumb, a sexy little stroke that sent heat crashing down his spine and roiling in the pit of his stomach.
“Once wouldn’t be enough, Jonas.” Her breath turned ragged. She nuzzled his thumb.
“Babe.” He meant it as a reprimand, but it came out an entreaty. He slid his free hand into the wealth of hair she had tumbling around her shoulders. It was thick and silky and sexy as hell. He was so far gone that the feel of the silken mass against his skin added to his nearly desperate need of her. “I’m going to kiss you.”
“So stop talking about it and just do it,” she advised. “Before I chicken out.”
Jonas didn’t need a second invitation. He’d waited for her consent, but now that she’d given it, he took advantage. His fist tightened in her hair, while his other hand cupped her chin, holding her still for him. He lowered his mouth to hers.
He was gentle, his lips coaxing hers, small little kisses. Tasting her. Discovering the flavor of tuberose and jasmine. Just a hint. Egyptian blood orange perhaps. He would need to taste more to know for certain. He kissed the corners of her mouth, feeling her texture. That satin. The perfection of those too-generous lips. He traced the seam with his tongue and then bit down very gently on the bottom lip. She gave a little gasp and he took advantage, sliding into the heat of her mouth, claiming her.
Her mouth was pure fire. Scorching hot. He stroked his tongue along hers, persuading her gently, hanging on to control with an effort. Kissing Camellia was something he was going to have to repeat often. He realized she had been right all along about this too. He was going to need to kiss her the way he needed air to breathe. Self-preservation be damned, they were both in trouble.