Jasper scowled and his entire body stiffened. Any hint of humor vanished as he took a step toward me. I backed up until my spine hit the barrier of the wall. Shit. I’d really pissed him off and I had no weapon, although I was uncertain whether I’d have the guts to shoot him again. He was a rogue Scar assassin, who looked as if he was going to kill me.
He stopped inches from me then raised his knife to my neck. I didn’t breathe as he pressed the tip to the hollow of my throat and I felt a tiny pin prick. I held completely still, afraid to look away from him or move. His eyes held a dangerous glint in them as he stared at me.
Without a word, he grabbed the neckline of my pajama top. Then with his knife, he ripped it straight down the middle. I gaped. The clothes I’d been holding now held up in front of my naked breasts. He didn’t stop there as he put his hands on my hips and yanked down my white silk pajama pants.
“Oh, my God.” I stood in my pink panties in front of him, but he wasn’t even paying attention to me; instead, he strode to the window again.
“Put the fuckin’ clothes on or you go naked.” His tone was rough with a deep Scottish brogue as the tension pulsated from him.
I knew when to stop fighting and at the moment, Jasper was furious and I was certain any second, he’d either shoot me himself and take a loss on whatever money he was being paid, or throw me over his shoulder with nothing but my panties on.
I quickly pulled on the khaki shorts and pale pink t-shirt with the sparkly white horse on the front. A present from Xamien on my first Christmas here. It came with my favorite weapon—my circular blades.
By the time I was dressed, he was in front of me again, grabbing my arm and before I even had the shirt pulled down, he tugged me toward the door.
Then I heard it; cars driving up the gravel driveway and skidding to a stop and then doors opening and slamming shut.
“Looks like I’ll have to work for my money now. Hope you know how to kick some ass because I plan on living to get paid for this job.” I never had the opportunity to use my weapons, but I practiced with them and thought I could hold my own. “Our best scenario . . . we get out of here alive. The worst . . . I have to use you to bargain for my life.”
I gawked at him. “You wouldn’t.” But from the snippets of info I’d gathered on Jasper, I was betting he would.
His brows rose. “You want to test it, sunshine?” I heard the front door splinter as it was forced open. He waited for my answer and I finally shook my head. He smirked and then opened the door and pulled me into the hall.
My breath hitched as glass shattered and I slammed my back against the wall. Jasper didn’t stop though and pulled me behind him until we were close to the bannister overlooking the front hall. I banged into his side when he stopped abruptly. He glanced at me and scowled, but didn’t say anything. He tilted his head and his eyes narrowed as if listening for where the men were located downstairs.
Then he turned to me and said without a hint of teasing. “In case I die, you should know I’ve wanted to fuck you since that day in the bathroom.”
Wow, he really had no filter, and why would he want to fuck me? I was a pin cushion of scars and burns.
“Yeah, I saw the scars. Don’t give a fuck either. Means you have a story is all. One I plan on reading while sinking between your thighs.” Jasper didn’t tiptoe around me like I was some glass figurine with scrapes all over it. He was direct, honest and . . . completely offensive.
I caught his gaze looking me up and down as if he was contemplating whether to toss me against the wall and fuck me before we died or take his chances and hope we made it out alive then fuck me. And for some crazy screwed-up reason, the thought had my heart racing and my sex clenching. But when Jasper looked at me with heat blazing in his eyes I felt—wanted. Desired.
But I was damaged goods and I didn’t have sex—period. Sex was carnal and filled with emotion. There was too much of a chance my shields would falter and he’d see more of who I was. And the consequences of that ever getting out . . . it was safer for everyone this way.
He lowered his voice and nodded to the stairwell. “I’m guessing ten trained men with high-powered guns. That’s the bad news. The good . . .” he grinned. “I fight harder turned on.”
I never wanted to slap someone before; I just didn’t care enough to have anyone piss me off—until Jasper. Now I wanted to slap him and then . . . kiss him. Jesus. What the hell was wrong with me?
The men’s footsteps crunching on broken pieces of glass, china, and whatever else they’d destroyed, blanketed any crazy desire I was fighting. Xamien was going to be pissed and Xamien pissed meant there would be hell to pay. He was cool, calm and had the patience of a saint, but when Xamien lost it he was a tsunami.
“Stay the fuck behind me. I get shot, knifed, whatever, you can heal my ass.”
My stomach plummeted. “What?” How did he know I was a Healer? No one knew.
He opened the door. “Babe, the moment I touched you, I knew.”
My head spun and knees weakened. “Did you tell anyone?”
He hesitated, eyes watching me as if he was assessing something. “Nope. Let’s go.” He chin-lifted to the left, which led to the rear of the house, then let go of my hand. His back to the wall, he moved along it, knife in his hand, gun in his pants at the small of his back. His steps quickly ate up the ground, but he was quiet and calm.
Jasper stopped, turned toward me, dragged his eyes down my front and then yanked off his black t-shirt and tossed it to me.