Lion's Heat

CHAPTER 10

A fire was burning brightly in the fireplace when Jonas escorted Rachel into the cabin. Mordecai sat on his haunches in front of it. The four-legged Coyote that traveled at his side was lying in front of it, black eyes watching as Jonas and Rachel entered the room.

Amber was sleeping peacefully after the formula Rachel had given her before they left the estate house, yet still, the Coyote Mordecai called "Cote" came to its feet, narrowed his eyes on the child and tilted his head as though attempting to figure out exactly what it was.

"The perimeter of the cabin is secure." Mordecai came to his feet as he wiped his hands down the front of his jeans, his blue gray gaze meeting Jonas's before he shrugged his broad shoulders.

There was an edge of discomfort whenever he was around Rachel, which Jonas hadn't yet figured out.

"Contact me immediately if you so much as sense anything," Jonas ordered him. "I'll be working tonight, then Rachel and I have to fly back to D.C. tomorrow afternoon for a meeting with the House Appropriations Committee concerning satellite usage. I want the heli-jet and Alpha Team One providing security for the trip and the meeting, as well as the return."

Mordecai gave a sharp nod as Rachel moved toward her and Amber's room. As Rachel's door closed, Mordecai turned back to him.

"What?" Jonas questioned as Mordecai stared at him silently.

"Merinus was forced to leave the safe room just after the male mates left. She was in the hall for long moments. While there, David became very agitated. He was pacing the room, and though he was fighting to hold them back, I could hear the tiny growls rumbling in his chest. He had all the appearances of adolescent feral fever, Jonas."

Jonas's jaw clenched. "I'll talk to Callan and Ely and see what they think."

Mordecai nodded. "He's a good boy. I'd hate to see his head messed with feral fever."

As Mordecai left the cabin, Jonas blew out a hard, silent breath. Feral fever had caused the scientists to kill too many young Breeds while they were still in the labs. Jonas had hoped the hybrid Breeds would be immune to it.

Moving to the kitchen, he quickly pulled a prepared meal from the freezer and shoved it in the oven. He hated damned microwaves.

Setting the temperature, he moved to the coffeemaker and flipped the switch to start the brewing process for the already measured grounds of coffee, then set out two cups, bowls and spoons.

Chili was one of the few things he could prepare well. That and coffee.

Turning at the sound of the bedroom door opening, he watched as Rachel reentered the room. She had taken off the exquisite dress and replaced it with soft cashmere lounging pants and a top. Her feet were covered with pristine white socks, her long red hair brushed until it fell down her back in a soft, satiny ribbon.

Seeing her dressed more comfortably, her face devoid of makeup, her demeanor softer than it was in the office, gave her an even more delicate, petite appearance.

She barely cleared his chest at five foot six inches. In heels, she went no taller than his shoulders. She was so damned tiny he was almost scared to touch her.

Fear was something he wasn't used to feeling either, not in any regard. Confidence was, at times, a fault where he was concerned, and he knew it. When it came to Rachel though, confidence was something he invariably found himself lacking.

"Is Amber sleeping comfortably?" he asked as she made her way into the kitchen.

"Like a baby." Her lips tilted up in amusement. "That child could sleep through a bomb, I believe. As long as her diaper is dry and her belly is full."

She was an unusually peaceful child, Jonas had to admit. Even for her young age, Amber was content to watch everything and everyone when she was awake.

"I'll have something ready for us to eat in a few minutes," he promised as he poured the coffee. "You have to be hungry."

"Starved." She leaned against the counter, staring up at him, her gaze quiet, intense.

Jonas could almost hear trouble brewing in her mind. The woman had more questions than China had rice at times.

Rachel watched as Jonas moved around the kitchen, still dressed in the mission uniform, a weapon strapped to one thigh, a knife to the other.

He was the badass he was rumored to be, there was no doubt. But there was a softer part of Jonas that few people saw, that he took great pains to hide. A part that she had often glimpsed, even when she knew he would prefer no one see.

It was the same part that had him fixing her coffee, and long minutes later preparing her meal before he set it on the table. She had never had a meal prepared for her, that she could remember, by anyone other than herself or her sister. Even Devon, when they had lived together, had never bothered to fix her so much as a glass of water.

But here was Jonas, tough, hard, coming down from the surge of adrenaline that she knew came from battle, and he was fixing her coffee, chili, a salad. There were crackers and fruits and bread. Everything laid out on the table for her to tempt her appetite.

"I'll get fat at this rate." She moved to sit in the chair he pulled out for her, and felt a start of surprise as he helped her adjust it.

"Your metabolism is too well-adjusted and you're too physically active to get fat anytime soon." He took his own chair and began digging into his own food.

Breeds consumed vast quantities of food to power those gorgeous, powerful bodies.

There had actually been a television special concerning Breed eating habits. It had amazed her that producers would even think of such a thing.

The meal progressed quietly. As she finished, Jonas removed the dishes, stacked the dishwasher, turned it on, then moved to the doorway.

"I need a shower and I have some papers to go over before the meeting tomorrow. I'll see you in the morning."

He left her sitting in the kitchen, alone.

Rachel stared at the doorway incredulously. He had just walked out, moved across the living room and entered his own bedroom as though she were no more than a guest.

She blinked as she fought to grasp this new attitude.

She would have expected to be fending him off tonight, not wondering why the hell he hadn't at least given her the chance to do so.

The knowledge that she wouldn't have minded the chance to do so had her lips quirking in a smile. The arousal that had slammed into her body the second she had seen him in that mission uniform hadn't abated.

When he had walked into the safe room, his tall, corded body outlined in the protective wear, she had nearly lost her breath. The black material only emphasized the height and breadth of his body, as well as the living mercury of his eyes. He looked more a warrior than she had ever seen him before.

Jonas's normal attire was silk suits and conservative clothing. She'd never seen him dressed outrageously, as some Breeds were prone to. No skintight leather or combat boots. He was every inch the conservative politician if one cared to ignore the dangerous aura that surrounded him. Or the gorgeous body. Or the sheer sex appeal.

She breathed, wishing she had better control over her attraction to him. For more than seven months she had fought the heated longing she felt each time she saw him. As she learned more about him, she'd had to fight it even harder.

And what she had seen tonight had made her see even more of the man he was.

The monitors in the safe room covered every area outside the safe house. She had seen him when he had met his sister in the entrance to Sanctuary.

The tenderness he had displayed toward her, the sheer agony on his face as she had cried in his arms had broken Rachel's heart. There were facets to Jonas that would take lifetimes to figure out. And there were others, such as his love for his sister, that were clear to her right now.

So many saw him as manipulating, calculating: A man who deserved little respect because of the pure power he displayed. But Jonas was so much more than that. He manipulated to ensure the safety of the Breeds. He calculated to ensure the happiness of those close to him. He did what he had to do to provide a measure of safety to Sanctuary as well as to Haven, and to bring the Breeds into a cohesive society that projected the appearance of invincible strength.

It was the only way to survive, she knew. The Breeds were facing an uncertain future in many ways. Laws could be changed on a whim, and what was theirs now could be taken from them tomorrow. It had happened in the past to other races. Rachel had no doubt that the Breeds too faced that threat.

Rising to her feet, she paced to the living room, then to her room. She was looking at a long night. Sleep had never seemed so far away, nor had it ever seemed so unwanted.

The rest of the week seemed to progress much as that night had. The day was filled with meetings, wrapping up projects and completing the move of the main office to Sanctuary. There seemed to be very little time to actually talk to Jonas, or to figure out what the hell they were going to do after the move.

It wasn't as though they could go back to the same routine that they had had before. Yet Jonas seemed determined to do just that.

He was more distant that he had ever been, and the time they shared together became few and far between.

She found that by living in the cabin with Jonas, though, there were benefits. He began slipping into her room and taking Amber for her feedings throughout the night.

Not once during the week had she woken to her daughter's fretful whimpers for a meal or a dry diaper. Once, she had awakened to see him bending over the crib, returning her daughter to her bed, his expression caught by the light of the lamp next to the small bed.

It had been a father's face, full of gentleness. The face of a man who had claimed a child--whether by blood or by love--and now carried through with the responsibilities of that job.

For long moments he had stood watching Amber, dressed in nothing more than a pair of soft cotton pants, his chest and feet bare.

Rachel had felt such a surge of emotion, such pure arousal, that for a moment her breath caught.

He had turned then, as though drawn by the power of what she had felt, his gaze locking with hers.

Not a word had been said. He had turned and walked from the room so quietly that she wondered if he had ever been there. She had never caught him again, though she knew he fed Amber nightly. The bottles were always washed and sterilized, sitting on the counter awaiting her the next morning, and diapers were in the waste each morning.

It was a routine they had begun to fall into, and it was one that was wearing on her nerves as she felt his hunger growing as well as the arousal beginning to build within her.

No one could claim this was mating heat, she thought as she watched him carry wood into the cabin for a fire that night. Not that they needed it so much for the warmth. She had learned while living on Sanctuary that the Breeds, for all their technology, preferred classic comforts. A comfortable seat, a fire, steak and potatoes, a cold beer. Many even still carried the outlawed bullet- and shell-loaded weapons from decades before rather than the laser-powered weapons that were more effective when set to stun or wound, rather than kill.

Not that their enemies didn't use the same weapons. Bullets were still preferred by many of their attackers, simply because they did more damage to the body with the same effectiveness of the new weapons being introduced.

Society in general was all about less bloodshed and more humane weapons, or so advertising proclaimed. At least, for those who cared about the damage caused or about leaving others less defended.

"Rachel, before you leave the office, contact Senator Tyler and ask him if he'll move the meeting set for tomorrow in D.C. out here. The Weather Service is calling for heavy snow tomorrow and I'd prefer not to get grounded by a blizzard."

He moved from his office into hers, a frown edging at his brows to indicate his irritation as he faced her. Jonas didn't mind the snow unless it ended up delaying something he wanted or needed to do.

"Anything else?" She made a note on the electronic reminder she used.

She heard him mutter something--she knew she had. But when she turned back to him, he was merely glaring back at her with the same expression he'd had moments ago.

"Did you say something else?" she questioned him in confusion.

"I said you could work naked, but I doubt you're into that." The glare became more intense.

Rachel just barely kept her lips from twitching. "I could, but don't you think Lawe and Rule might be a little uncomfortable when you start all that growling stuff?"

His expression stilled, no doubt in shock. It wasn't the first time he had muttered something; it was simply the first time she had confronted him over it.

As she watched, the arousal, the pure hunger he always seemed to keep a lid on, flared in his gaze for just a second before he managed to hide it once again.

What she saw stole her breath. The need that reflected for that one second on his face was like nothing she had ever seen or known in her life. It was all-consuming, overwhelming.

Unlike Jonas, she didn't have the self-control to hide her own responses nearly so quickly, and she knew it. Heat surged through her body, raced through her bloodstream, and in less than a second had her clit throbbing and her vagina moist and clenching in need.

She watched as he slowly inhaled, drawing in the scent of her arousal, and thought just how unfair it was that he had that ability.

"You're stepping into very dangerous territory," he warned her as he crossed his arms over his chest, the white silk shirt he wore stretching over his broad shoulders. "If you have no desire to be a mate, then perhaps you should give a second thought to teasing me, Rachel."

Perhaps she should.

"I haven't refused to be your mate. I simply stated that I'm not your mate," she pointed out to him. "Just because some hormone in your system wants to turn me into your sex slave doesn't mean I would be anything more than just that."

Perhaps she was wrong. She had spent quite a bit of time watching Callan and Merinus and talking to the friend she had nearly lost contact with. What she had heard hadn't sounded too bad, simply inconvenient. She just didn't have time to be inconvenienced in such a way.

"Keep pushing me," he warned her as he stepped closer to her desk. "You may not like the results."

That wasn't arrogance talking, she realized. It was pure fact.

Shaking her head, she watched him with what she hoped was cool interest. She was actually burning alive for him.

"And here I was actually starting to like you," she told him. "What happened to the man who fixed me dinner, who feeds my daughter at night so I can sleep?"

"I may as well," he retorted. "I'm awake every night, tempted by the scent of your arousal. The walls may be thick, sweetheart, but they're not that damned thick that the scent of your sweet pussy doesn't leave me aching."

She flushed. She hated it when she did that. Damn it, she had red hair; it should be illegal to make her blush. Of course, she should also have hell's own temper, and she was actually rather calm. For the most part.

"I can do without your attitude, Jonas." She stood to her feet, her head held high, and wished she presented a more imposing image. He stared back at her with that small glimmer of amusement in his gaze.

The glare was gone. It was a look she didn't care much for anyway. When he glared, the gentleness that was a glimmer of warmth in his gaze was absent. She rather liked that little light of warmth.

"I could do without your stubbornness," he informed her. "I put up with it anyway."

"My stubbornness?" She propped her hands on her hips and stared back at him with a frown. "How am I stubborn? I am the least stubborn person I know."

His black brows arched as he leaned against the doorframe. "Least stubborn?" His lips quirked. "Let's see, what was your nickname in high school again? I know I saw that on the background check I had run on you."

Her eyes widened. "Don't you dare, Jonas Wyatt." She laughed. She hadn't heard that nickname since she'd graduated.

"I could be bribed to forget it for a minute." He almost grinned. That little twitch at the corner of his mouth was completely charming.

"Just for a minute?" She narrowed her eyes back at him warningly.

He was teasing her. Merinus had stated that Jonas never joked, that he never teased. Maybe it was that no one had ever paid attention to the unique way he did it. Or perhaps, he kept them too angry to pay attention.

"And what would be the price of forgetting?" She just had to push it, she couldn't help it.

The change that came over him was almost frightening. For a woman who had never known a man like Jonas, it could be terrifying.

His expression darkened; sensual, sexual awareness filled every inch of his face, gleamed in silver eyes that seemed to lighten, to burn with hunger.

"Jonas." As though that look alone were enough to weaken her, to turn her legs to jelly, Rachel leaned against the edge of her desk and held on for support.

Predatory awareness transformed his face as sensual hunger flamed in his eyes. Straightening, he moved from the door.

"Get out of here." The order that rasped from his lips shocked her. "Run, Rachel. Get away from me."

She shook her head. How was she supposed to run? She could barely breathe. The look on his face was all-consuming, filled with need--for her.

Had anyone ever needed her? Ever ached for her?

In all her life she'd never truly had anyone but her sister, and Diana had her battles. Danger was Diana's lover, her family, her friend. Amber was Rachel's responsibility. Devon had been a footnote in her and Amber's life, nothing more.

Yet Jonas ached for her. She could see it, she could feel it.

"Jonas . . ." She licked her suddenly dry lips as he moved closer.

"Do you know what I am?" he growled, his tone so rough, so primal, it sent shivers racing down her spine. "You don't even know the beast that draws you, do you, Rachel?"

"Running me off, are you? What about all this 'me Breed, you mate' crap you're always spouting?" She felt light-headed, sensitive. Her flesh was crawling with the need for his touch.

She couldn't blame it on mating heat. Ely had assured her it took more than the few brief touches they had shared to cause the need to rage inside her.

"I was created to be a breeder." He moved to her, his hands curving around her upper arms as she stared back at him, barely understanding what he was saying, her gaze locked on his lips. Lips she needed to taste, a kiss she hungered for in the dead of night and yet continued to deny herself.

"Are you listening to me, Rachel?" His lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl, revealing the strong, sexier than hell incisors at the sides of his mouth.

"A breeder." She had to fight to breathe now. "I heard you."

"I was created to breed the perfect killer."

She licked her lips again, wondered how he would taste.

"Yeah, well, I guess they had to have an excuse for creating someone so damned arrogant and certain of themselves." It made sense to her anyway, and she had to say something, otherwise he might believe she was as dumbfounded as she knew she was becoming.

A growl rumbled in his chest and vibrated in her pussy.

Oh Lord, what was happening to her?

Should arousal be this strong, this hot? She felt flushed, overheated, oversensitive.

"If you don't get the hell away from me, I'm going to kiss you." He shook her just a little. "Listen to me, Rachel. You don't feel the heat; I do. You don't know what it does. Trust me." One hand lifted, touched her chin and raised her face until she was staring into his eyes. "Listen to me, baby: You'll regret it."

She shook her head. How could she regret it?

"Just a little kiss," she whispered.

His eyes closed briefly. "A little kiss." When he reopened them, the irises had lightened further, the color swirling, burning.

"I want you," she whispered. "You know I do. Surely there's some way . . ."

"I don't have the control," he snarled.

"The king of control?" She shook her head in bemusement. "What is it, Jonas? All or nothing? You can't let me at least have a glimpse of what I'm getting into without forcing me to accept it all the way?"

She watched his face. His jaw clenched and bunched as rage seemed to flicker in his gaze.

Slowly, so slowly, his head lowered, his gaze holding hers as she watched a battle she couldn't understand flickering in his eyes.

"I would never force you," he whispered.

His lips touched hers. So slowly.

Rachel felt herself shaking from the inside out as she tried to part her lips. She tried to take more of him, only to have him hold her closer. His lips were closed, heated, sending fiery sensations racing through her nervous system as desire began to rage through her.

His hands stroked down her arms, drew them to his shoulders before his hands gripped her hips and jerked her closer.

Her lips parted on a gasp.

Jonas's head lifted, his lips moving to her neck, his teeth raking the sensitive flesh. The feel of his hardened cock pressed tight and hard against her as the position forced her legs to part.

Thin dress pants were no protection against the hardened length of his erection beneath his own slacks.

His cock was hot, hard. So thick and heavy against the overheated, swollen mound of her sex. Rachel couldn't help but try to lift herself closer, to grind her clit against the heated proof of the heavy shaft as the need for release suddenly overwhelmed her.

Jonas's large palm cupped the back of her head as it fell back. His lips stroked along her neck; his teeth raked, nipped. The feel of his incisors, wicked sharp, sent fiery pleasure tearing through her before it struck her womb, clenching it with ecstasy.

"Jonas." Weakness assailed her, yet adrenaline coursed through her. She needed more. She ached for more.

Just as quickly as he pulled her to him, she found herself free. Stumbling against the desk, she stared back at him in shock as he snarled.

"What . . . ?"

"I have work to do." He turned, stalked back to his office and slammed the door. A second later, the lock clicked, informing her with more than words that he wanted nothing more to do with her.

"Jonas." She whispered his name, her hand lifting to her neck and the stinging sensation she could still feel.

Touching dampness, she pulled back and stared at her fingers with wide eyes.

Blood.

"You're playing a very dangerous game, little girl."

Rachel turned quickly, off balance, shocked as she stared back at Dr. Ely Morrey.

Dressed in a heavy sweater, jeans and boots, she didn't look like the genius in Breed genetics that Rachel knew she was.

"How . . ." She blinked, swallowed tightly. "I didn't hear you come in."

Evidently, Jonas hadn't heard either.

"Come with me." She jerked her head beyond the door before stepping into the harsh chill of the mountain air.

Rachel followed, not quite certain why. Closing the door behind her, Ely glared back at Rachel, her brown eyes enraged.

"I heard more than I probably should have," Ely expressed in a precise, icy tone Rachel had never heard from her before. Anger glittered in her brown eyes, an anger Rachel didn't understand. "You ask that man for the impossible."

Rachel shook her head. "What do you mean, the impossible?"

"To ask him to touch you, to kiss you without sharing the mating hormone, without making you his, is like asking the sun to not rise in the morning or set in the evening. You're asking him to destroy himself."

Rachel shook her head. "You said the hormone had to be shared to produce such reactions. That it was okay . . ."

"For you," Ely snapped. "You walk around him daily, sleep in his cabin, share his day and you don't suffer. Because he respects your desire to wait. Because he will not force this on you, no matter the pain he feels. You do this to him, and you don't even care about the effect on him."

Ely's face flushed with her anger.

"Ely, we haven't shared the mating hormone." Panic was beginning to set in, a fearful realization struggling to reveal itself inside her mind. Her heart.

"You haven't shared it with him," Ely snarled back at her. "You haven't tasted what drives him insane with need and pain because he can't have what nature is demanding he take, no matter how it must be taken. You don't suffer into the night, so aroused that it feels your flesh is peeling from your bones. You don't breathe and smell nothing but the scent of hunger and need that clings to the one who desires you, yet refuses you. You, Ms. Broen, aren't tortured with an agony that even the labs couldn't compare because there is no relief, there is no release."

"He has a hand," she shot back, furious. "Don't tell me he can't find relief. What am I asking for? A chance to love him rather than be tied to him without the benefit of a choice?"

"A hand?" Ely's tone was clipped, frosty with disgust. "In this, my dear, he has no 'hand,' as you so eloquently phrase it. No amount of masturbation will help; it will only make the agony greater. Each time he touches you, breathes in the scent of your desire, touches your flesh. Each time, the hunger is a thousand times worse than starvation. It's like having a limb ripped from his body. What you just did to him is greater disservice than those Council scientists could have ever done to him."

"All I wanted was a kiss," she whispered, horrified at what Ely was telling her. "I would never deliberately hurt him."

Ely glared back, refusing to soften. "You are to him something greater than even your child is to you. If you don't know now that you love him or that you could love him, then the best gift you could give him is to leave, completely. That, or stop being such a child and accept the gift he would give you." Censure glittered in her eyes. "If you're woman enough. Which at this point, I very much doubt you are."