Read Online Mystic Danger 2: From the Ashes by Cash Cole - Free Book Online

to a new generation of Native American shape-shifters?”
    Jake smacked his ass. “What does my sister think?”
    Rance tried to step back, but Jake held him in place.
    “I haven’t felt Sarah in at least two days, and you’re about to piss me off if you think I’m going to chart the rest of my life based on—”
    Jake silenced him with a slow, wet, deep kiss. “Rance Maxmillian Clarke, what I feel for you has nothing to do with tribal politics, brotherly affection or the advice I’ve been receiving from my cousins and my mother, not to mention Vera Rogers, who has taken quite a liking to you.”
    Rance waited, blood racing. “So what do you feel?”
    Jake set his jaw, and instead of the flip answer Rance expected, his Indian softened, his handsome features showing more emotion than Rance had seen on them. Their eyes locked unwaveringly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to feel anything, so I’m not sure what to say right now.”
    “The truth would be appreciated,” Rance said, swallowing his pride. He’d known from the moment he set eyes on Jake that rainy night on his boat how he felt about him. And it wasn’t because of any Native American superstition or legend, and it wasn’t because of gratitude for Sarah’s sacrifice.
    “I want you.” Jake opened his mouth to say more, but the words never followed.
    Rance waited, albeit, impatiently. He had no intentions of helping Jake, but when it appeared Jake was at a loss, Rance couldn’t resist teasing. However, a fair amount of panic prompted the sarcasm. “Okay, is this a craving, like for candy or soda, or do you have some viral sort of want that requires you have sex to cure it? Define want , please.” Rance stiffened his back. “I need to know.”
    Jake slowly grinned. “Is this need a craving, like for…?”
    Rance socked him on the arm. “I flew over a thousand miles, gave up my home, any prospects for a job, my comfort zone. The least you can do is level with me. What does want mean to you?”
    Jake drew his face to within a breath of Rance’s, and the dark look in his eyes sent bottle rockets from Rance’s scalp to the soles of his feet. It spoke volumes, more than anything Jake could have uttered, but Rance’s derision seemed to be the impetus Jake needed to air his thoughts. Jake shrugged. “There is no cure. It’s a terminal case.”
    Jake threaded his fingers through Rance’s hair and dragged his lips slowly across his, his tongue running along Rance’s lower lip, tasting, sucking, drawing him. This kiss was slow and deliberate, the ultimate panacea Rance craved.
    Rance growled and gave back with all his heart, his very soul. It didn’t matter how they’d met or that they’d both lost so much. Jake might not be able to speak the words. Hell, neither could he. But Jake cared for him—Rance knew it—and they could build on that.
    Jake kissed his face, his cheeks, his lips, whispering something in Cherokee over and over. Breathlessly, Rance asked what he was saying.
    “A-gi-ga-u.”
    Rance repeated it. “Ah-gee-gah-ooh? What does it mean?”
    Jake grinned, saying it in both Cherokee and English. “Beloved, beloved, beloved.”
    Rance sighed. “Jake, damn it. Do you want me or not?”
    At that, Jake laughed, but before Rance could take exception and pick a fight with him over his lack of clarity, Jake dragged him below deck, kicked open a half-closed door and shoved Rance unceremoniously onto a king-sized. Then he jumped after him, pinning him to the comforter. Rance looked sideways at Jake’s bulging forceps as their fingers laced. Jake drew their hands downward until Rance let go and fastened his fingers to Jake’s belt.
    “So you do have a bed.”
    Jake quirked an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
    “Well, first time we fucked was on the deck, and the only kissing we’ve done was outdoors. I was beginning to wonder if you even had a bed.”
    “All ya gotta do is ask if you want to know something.” Jake rolled