Jaguar Night by Doranna Durgin

He said, “As it happens, I’ve made that decision. I’mjust waiting for yours.” He touched her bruised lips, the gentlest of caresses—one that sent her bones to singing all over again, pulling up such a response that she knew it was more than just the herbs and blood and unwitting connection she’d created, she knew…
    Then he stepped aside so she could leave.

Chapter 9
    D olan stared at the ceiling, his preternatural night vision turning it into a swirl of textured paint that no pure human could see. What the hell did I do that for?
    He’d moved aside—and she’d walked out. Squared her shoulders, set her jaw and walked out of the room. He hadn’t seen her since. Oh, he’d heard her—outside, finishing chores and bidding her friends good-night after they’d tossed out evening hay to the various creatures of Encontrados. And he’d heard her come back inside, moving quietly through the darkened house until the faintest glow of light from the hall told him she’d turned on her bedroom light. Brushed her teeth…rustled through a change of clothes…
    The light had gone out, and now Dolan stared at the ceiling, his body awash with so many aches he couldn’t even separate them from one another—aside from thatwhich came through loud and clear. The want. The want so strong he could barely stop himself from rolling out of this small bed and easing down the hall to Meghan’s bedroom. The overwhelming awareness of her presence…
    What little thinking he’d been doing, stopped.
    He clenched his jaw; he breathed through his nose and out his mouth. He reminded himself that he was a Sentinel; that he had training and strength and thirteen years of field experience. He reminded himself why he was there…what was at stake. That the Core no doubt still lurked—that they no doubt already realized this latest probe had failed.
    Meghan. He took another deep breath, let it go. Had there been no potential between them other than the incantation washing through their bodies, it would have been enough. Had he not wanted her from the moment he’d confronted her at the round pen, all spark and anger and defiance, wrapped around Sentinel skills so sweet and untried that even then they’d called to him, it would have been enough.
    But he had wanted her. Had been drawn to her. Had found himself lingering around the ranch longer than reason or common sense or his mission allowed. And when the Core had taken him down…
    She’d been the one he called.
    And even uninitiated, she’d heard him.
    Not, he thought, because her skills ran so deep, not without initiation.
    But because she’d been listening.
    Just as he listened now—for any sound of her, for any indication she was still awake, that she hadn’t been able to shake off what had happened between them.
    Get a grip. Big, bad Sentinel, obsessed with his physical reaction to a woman. Consumed by it. He snorted softly, rolling out of bed after all and ignoring the tiny voice protesting that it wasn’t just physical—wasn’t just chemistry and wasn’t just incantations.
    He didn’t bother with his shoes. For the sake of propriety, he did pull on his pants, recently washed and stiff. He listened in the hallway just long enough to make sure he hadn’t disturbed Meghan, and he padded down the hall to the kitchen, having already learned to open the door just so far and slip through if he wanted to avoid the most startling of creaks.
    He stood on the porch, breathing in the crisp smells of junipers and cedars, the bitter taste of willow, the damp, cold night air holding down the scents of the sky island. He shivered, wishing he’d brought his jacket…and then realized he had no intention of staying in this thin human skin.
    For the first time in days, the jaguar called clearly to him. And there, on the porch of the old ranch house, he reached for what had been waiting within, blanketed in herbs and illness. Impatient, eager…ready to run. Ready to hunt.
    Ready to