Chapter 8

Jagger laid her down on the thick white furs.

Cora writhed beneath him, the drug tearing away every shred of her inhibitions. Her bare leg hooked around his thick waist, pulling him down against her.

The friction was agonizing. Jagger let out a harsh groan. His eyes were bloodshot, his fangs extending slightly as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He bit down, hard enough to leave a red mark, but not enough to break the skin.

He grabbed the edge of the white pelt, ready to rip it away and claim her.

Suddenly, Cora let out a broken, painful whimper. A single, hot tear slipped from her closed eyes and landed directly on the back of Jagger's hand.

The heat of that tear felt like a branding iron.

Jagger froze. He looked at her face. She was completely lost to the drug, her brow furrowed in agony, begging for a release she didn't understand.

If he claimed her now, while she was out of her mind, he would be no better than the feral beasts in the jungle. She would wake up and hate him.

The thought of her looking at him with terror and disgust made his chest ache.

With a roar of sheer, agonizing frustration, Jagger pushed himself up, tearing his body away from hers.

Cora cried out at the loss of his heat. She reached for him blindly, her nails scratching across his chest, begging him to come back.

Jagger grabbed both of her wrists in one massive hand, pinning them above her head. He had to get the drug out of her system, or the fever would cook her brain.

He took a ragged breath. His free hand, rough and calloused, slid down her stomach, slipping beneath the edge of the vine skirt.

When his rough fingers found her, Cora's entire body arched off the furs. She let out a high, sharp gasp that shattered the silence of the cave.

Jagger closed his eyes, his jaw locked tight enough to crack his teeth. He didn't look at her. He couldn't.

His fingers moved with a agonizingly slow, deliberate rhythm.

Cora sobbed, her head thrashing side to side. The pleasure was too intense, mixed with the burning need of the drug. She turned her head and sank her teeth into his thick shoulder muscle, biting down hard.

Jagger didn't flinch. He let her bite him, increasing the pace of his fingers, driving her higher and higher into the inferno.

With a final, broken cry, Cora shattered. Her body convulsed violently against his hand, and then she went completely limp, her chest heaving as the overwhelming, tidal wave of pleasure momentarily suppressed the drug's frantic burning. It wasn't entirely gone from her bloodstream, but the peak of the fever had broken, allowing her exhausted body to finally surrender and fall into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Jagger pulled his hand away. He looked at his trembling fingers, his breathing harsh and ragged. The fire in his blood was screaming for release.

He stood up, sprinted out of the cave, and threw himself directly under the freezing, pounding water of the waterfall.

Hours later, the fire had burned down to glowing embers.

Cora slowly opened her eyes. Her body felt heavy, but her mind was crystal clear.

Then, the memories hit her.

She remembered the heat. The begging. His fingers.

A wave of mortification so intense it made her nauseous washed over her. She pulled the white pelt up to her chin, her face burning.

Jagger was sitting by the fire, crushing green leaves between two stones. He heard her shift and turned his head.

The silence between them was thick, heavy with the memory of what had just happened.

He stood up and walked over to the bed. He sat on the edge, his massive weight dipping the furs. He reached out with the crushed, cooling herbs.

Cora flinched as his rough fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her neck, applying the paste to the bite mark he had left.

"Don't move," he commanded, his voice a low, raspy whisper.

Cora looked at his shoulder. The deep, crescent-shaped teeth marks she had left were bruised and purple.

Her heart did a strange, painful flutter in her chest. He had suffered through absolute agony to protect her dignity.