Read Online Jaguar Night by Doranna Durgin - Free Book Online

of Sentinel or Atrum Core activity.
    Well, you’ve seen it now.
    So she stood in the doorway to the barn, and she listened. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, falling into unconscious habit. Sometimes she listened to a horse, sometimes to the land, sometimes to the true mood of those around her…sometimes she just listened to see what was there.
    And this time she heard something.
    It was small and slippery and whispery, a harsh and discordant sound. She tipped her head, followed it.
    It moved.
    From the outer edge of the property toward the center, it eased between strong wards. As if in response to having been noticed, its movements increased in speed; Meghan felt a hint of malevolence, and fury swelled within her. How dare anyone send such an incantation sneaking around her ranch? Trespassing, unwelcome… malignant.
    She wasn’t a prodigy when it came to wards, not like her mother. She didn’t have the power. Still, she knew enough to find the nearest ward lines, to grasp those shadowed glow lines in her mind’s eye and slam them together over that dark blot of unwelcome presence.
    A sizzle; a pop. The presence vanished. The ward lines wavered, momentarily diminished—but they were tied strongly to the land, and the thin spots soon flowed back into balance.
    Meghan let out a long, deep breath, finding herself with a small grim smile of satisfaction. “No trespassing,” she murmured to the world at large, and went to take her nap.
    Dolan opened his eyes to an unfamiliar room. His body continued the low-key background thrumming henow associated with Meghan, but was still plenty weak, muscles full of burning pain and lassitude. Unfamiliar panic surged within him—concern that Meghan, barely schooled and unpracticed, had truly done him harm. Had somehow locked him away from the jaguar permanently.
    It’s been only half a day. She said it would take time.
    He smelled the water by the bedside and took solace. If he could smell the water, then the jaguar still lurked.
    Not to mention he was damned thirsty.
    He sat for a moment, checking his stability, taking in the details of this room. An old room, nothing quite in true any longer, everything worn around the edges…comfortable. It smelled of Meghan, gingery, and while at first he accepted the effect as a natural for her house, his gaze finally landed on the rocking chair in the corner. He realized that the bundle of light knit cotton throw was actually a bundle of Meghan beneath the cotton throw.
    He watched her sleep for a moment, getting his bearings. The bedside clock said it was early afternoon; they’d only been here a few hours.
    She’d said it would take time. Not a few hours, but time.
    He quashed the flare of impatience and reached for the bedside pitcher—slowly, deliberately, taking none of his muscles for granted—to pour himself a full glass. He downed it in a few deep gulps, his eyes still on Meghan. She hadn’t stirred. Exhausted…and with good reason.
    He wondered about her arm. No cat’s claws made awound to be so casually dismissed—too prone to infection, regardless of size. He should check…
    And still his body urged him to return to sleep, a deep escape from pain. He found the glass still in his hand—and then he misjudged the distance to the serving tray. The tumbler clunked awkwardly into place.
    Meghan’s eyes opened at once. “You’re awake,” she said, voice a little creaky. “How are you?”
    “I was wondering the same of you.” He flung the quilt back and dropped his legs over the side of the bed, relieved to find himself still fully clothed. “Your arm?”
    She pushed the light throw down; she wore a bright coral tank top under a white, gauzy tunic, spaghetti straps barely visible. His gaze got hung up on the strong, graceful lines of her neck and the sweep of her collarbones; she pushed up the tunic sleeve and held her arm out for inspection, turning it this way and that.
    What he saw got his attention, all