Lion's Heat

CHAPTER 5

The office was set up on the far side of the cabin, a vacant wing that Rachel had learned had been added only in the past year in case Jonas was forced to attend to business from his cabin in Sanctuary rather than the Bureau's offices in D.C.

The three-room wing boasted a large outer office for Rachel, a larger inner one for Jonas and an attached nursery for Amber complete with a Breed nanny to oversee her while Rachel was working.

What more could a personal assistant ask for?

Outside the wing was a large parking area, a sheltered yard with a toddler play set that Amber wouldn't be playing on for quite a while, if ever, and a Breed guard.

All the benefits of the D.C. office complete with additional security. There was no chance of meeting Brandenmore after dark any longer. Nope, all she had to contend with now was Jonas.

After a week of dealing with Jonas in his mating mood, Rachel was starting to wish she simply had to face Brandenmore. She doubted the other man was as completely arrogant as Jonas on a bad day.

"Rachel, if you schedule another appointment with Racert in D.C., we're going to have words." Jonas stepped from the office first thing that morning and glared at her with the promise of retribution gleaming in his eyes.

Rachel lifted her brow once that first breathless, sensually weak feeling that always assailed her when he walked in the room had passed.

"Racert is important to the funds that Senator Tyler is attempting to get approved through the Senate, Jonas, you know that," she reminded him as she kept her attention on the file she was currently adding information to. "I would be more than happy to deny the meetings he requests once you get those funds."

"You're going to begin denying them now," he informed her. "I have an assistant director, you know. Pawn the bastard off on him."

Rachel turned and stared back at Jonas with an expression of mocking disapproval. "We need to discuss your idea of an assistant director. Brim Stone isn't exactly the most tactful choice you could have made. I think his attitude may even be worse than yours. He growled at a congressman's aide yesterday and caused the man to wet himself."

No one ever accused the Breeds of failing to use intimidation to get their way.

"Pawn the damned meeting off on him," Jonas ordered.

"No." Rachel turned back to the file despite the sudden jump of her heart as she made the denial. It was never, ever easy to challenge Jonas Wyatt.

"I know a volcano hungry for a sacrifice," he muttered behind her. "You'd make the perfect candidate."

"Hungry volcanoes only accept virgin maidens," she informed him tartly. "That leaves me out of the running."

She almost grinned at the disgruntled growl that sounded behind her.

"Fine. Pack a bag. You're going with me."

Rachel froze.

She turned to him slowly once again, her fingers still poised on the keys of the electronic display board.

"Excuse me?"

Jonas moved closer, the lean, powerful shift of muscle holding her gaze even as she fought it. Hell, fighting it was becoming harder each day.

"I said, pack a bag. You'll be going with me. For the meeting as well as that insane embassy party you scheduled for me. Afraid to have me at home, mate?"

She swallowed tightly. Actually, she was. She wanted him out of the cabin, at least for a single night--long enough to rebuild the defenses she could feel weakening against him, despite his arrogance.

"I can't leave Amber . . ."

He snorted at that. "Merinus was taking Amber tonight anyway. Did you think Callan wouldn't inform me of that? What did you think you were going to do, Rachel? Get rid of me so you could rid yourself of the desire plaguing you?"

Actually, that had been her plan.

Her lips thinned mutinously. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Do you think I don't know about those very intimate toys that you picked up when you went shopping with Merinus last week? For God's sake. Those Breed guards on your ass don't take their eyes off you, Rachel, no matter what you think."

Mortification flamed in her face.

She'd been so certain she had managed to slip her purchases past the guards who had trailed after her and Merinus as they shopped several days previously. After all, she hadn't even bought the items herself. She'd convinced the sales clerk to take care of everything and then slip her the bag.

"Let me guess." His voice dropped to a husky, sexy croon as he flattened his hands on the top of her desk and leaned forward. "While the cat's away, the mouse thinks she's going to play?"

"That was the general idea," she gritted out. "So go away so I can play in peace."

She had no doubt in her mind that those ultra-sensitive ears of his would pick up the sound of a vibrator.

"Forget it." He straightened with a snap, his silver eyes like dark flames raging in his face as he glared down at her. "Now pack. You're going with me."

"I will not." Rachel came to her feet now, anger churning inside her at the complete arrogance of the order. "I am not required at either the meeting or that insane party being held for the ambassador to Switzerland. He's a jerk."

"Yet you thought I wouldn't mind attending?" he asked with carefully banked sarcasm. "How kind of you, Rachel. Pack a bag before I pack it for you."

Hadn't Merinus said something about Breed males enjoying spoiling and giving in to their mates?

"Come on, Jonas," she tried another tactic. A sweet smile. She batted her lashes at him. "You don't really need me there, do you? You know I hate these parties. You've always let me out of them before."

Amazing.

She watched his expression, and for the briefest second, she thought she was actually going to get away with it.

"You know," his voice dropped, became harder, "I'm certain that sweet little act would work if you were actually sharing my bed. But since you aren't"--he flashed those wicked incisors at the sides of his mouth--"pack that fucking bag."

Rachel flinched. She hadn't heard him curse like that in all the time she had worked for him. Her eyes widened as he turned on his heel and stalked from the office, the door slamming hard enough that her gaze shot to the room where Amber was sleeping, fully expecting to hear her disgruntled cries.

She slept on.

Breathing out hard, Rachel turned back to the door he'd just about slammed from its hinges.

Now, was that a Feline hissy fit or what?

Did she dare not pack to accompany him?

She grimaced. Hell, she had a feeling if she didn't pack, he would do just as he threatened and pack for her. Then he'd likely throw her over his shoulder and cart her to the heli-jet like a damned war prize or something.

Now wasn't that just what she didn't need: Jonas in a snit.

It looked like it was going to be a while before she was allowed to play with her new toys after all.

Jonas stalked from the cabin, his control shot, and he fully admitted if he had stayed in that office so much as a heartbeat longer, then he was going to jerk her from her chair and kiss those pretty lips like the hungry Lion he was turning into.

The glands beneath his tongue were swollen to capacity now. They throbbed like a son of a bitch and the taste of cinnamon and cloves filled his mouth like a particularly forbidden sweet.

Sweet Lord have mercy, she was making him crazy.

Jumping into the Raider he kept parked in the driveway, he signaled to the two hidden members of Ghost Team that he was riding out, started the vehicle and backed out of the smooth parking area.

It was time he had a talk with Merinus. The meddling she had done in his life was becoming dangerous. He was poised on a razor's edge here and it was going to begin affecting his job.

Even Brim Stone, the Coyote Breed he'd elected to cover for him in D.C., was becoming frustrated with Jonas's lack of tact, which was worse than normal.

According to Brim, he was like a Lion with a sore paw, and if someone didn't dig out the splinter, then he was going to do it himself, with a knife.

Jonas had dared him.

It was never a smart thing to dare a Coyote. God knew most of them didn't have the power to turn away from a dare. They were fucking insane like that.

Pulling the Raider into the circular drive in front of the estate house, Jonas jumped from the vehicle and strode quickly up the marble steps to the double doors.

A Breed guard opened the door for him. Jonas expected to come face-to-face with part of the Pride family, but instead came to a stop at the sight of Cassandra Sinclair as she sat at the bottom of the staircase, staring up at him.

The eerie blue of her eyes could be disconcerting, to Breed as well as human. Her innocent face was somber, the long, heavy curls of her hair flowing around her like a thick, black cape.

Dressed in jeans, a light sweater and sneakers, there was still no way to pass this particular Breed off as anything but what she was. A very preternatural woman-child.

"How is your mate?" Cassie propped her arms on her knees before laying her cheek against them and staring up at him inquisitively.

This was the same young woman that the year previously had stood in front of the Breed tribunal and argued, quite successfully, that the female mate of the Coyote leader had the right to deny her mate. That she could indeed live apart from him, as long as she submitted to close protective supervision. That Breed Law had no right to interfere in free will and a woman's right to choose, and that the Coyote leader, Del Rey Delgado, had unfairly and with deception mated the woman against her free will.

All of that might well be true, Jonas had argued. But the Coyote leader had rights as well. It was he who would have to know when his mate suffered. It was the male who would have to bear the burden as well as the guilt should anything happen to her once she left his care.

The Breed tribunal hadn't heeded his arguments. Hell no. Instead, they had stood fast and followed the very skillfully presented argument this child had presented.

At nineteen, most Breeds were considered so fully grown that the majority of them had been killing for more than four years. Breed children were sent for their first kill between the ages of ten and fifteen.

Cassie, barely nineteen, had yet to take a life. And with her mix of Coyote and Wolf DNA, she might possibly be more dangerous than any of them.

Because Cassie sometimes saw ghosts, and because she often knew things she should never know.

"You're worried," she stated as she watched him too closely with those odd blue eyes. "What's wrong, Jonas?"

Unfortunately for him, Cassie was one of the few people he was fond of. She had practically been raised in Sanctuary. Her Wolf Breed stepfather had come to the Felines for help while trying to save her and her mother's lives. Because of that initial call for help, Cassie was now a part of them.

"I rarely worry, Cassie," he assured her with a slight grin as he took a seat next to her on the stairs. "Let's just say this hasn't been one of my better days."

"Because your mate is still denying you?" Playful humor glinted in her gaze as her lips quirked with a charming smile.

"Because my mate is a stubborn woman," he argued.

Cassie leaned back to rest against the step behind her. "Perhaps it's not stubbornness so much as it is fear," she stated then. "You would be a very hard man to walk into a mating with, I think."

"Ah, Cass, I thought you loved me." He chuckled.

She didn't smile back. Instead, she turned and gazed thoughtfully at the door for a long moment before turning back to him.

"Do you ever hate your life, Jonas?" she asked.

"No." He shook his head decisively. "I don't hate my life at all, Cassie. Though sometimes I must admit I hate those who attempt to destroy the life I and those like us have the right to live."

She nodded slowly again. "That's why you fight so hard for us. It's why some of us love you so much that we would do anything to see you happy and to see that you never regret your life."

Jonas frowned back at her. "Okay kid, you were waiting here for a reason. What was it?"

She nibbled at her lip for a moment as she considered her next words.

"Many Breeds don't like me. Do you know that, Jonas?"

He reached out and mussed the top of her hair a bit. "I love you, squirt."

The gesture didn't bring the usual smile from Cassie.

"I frighten them," she said softly. "I'm not one of them, yet I am. I know things I shouldn't. And they fear what I could mean to their lives. Do you fear what I could mean to your life, Jonas?"

He tilted his head and stared back at her with a sense of understanding. Cassie wanted to feel accepted, and sometimes, that was the last thing she felt.

"You don't frighten me in the least, Cass. Though sometimes, I am afraid for you."

She nodded. Sometimes, Cassie seemed to be a magnet for trouble, even more than she would normally be.

"Do you trust me, Jonas?"

And here was the kicker. "I trust you, Cass." He sighed. He did, though he didn't always follow the advice she gave him.

"Then don't berate Merinus for what was my fault," she warned him softly. "I told her a friend would call Kane, and that friend would be in dire need as well as important to all that we are."

"Enough, Cass." He laid his finger gently against her lips, amazed that there was no discomfort in that light touch. Mates normally found it entirely distasteful to touch anyone, in any way, of the opposite sex during the first stages of mating heat. "I know where this is going. It doesn't matter why Rachel came to me, or who played a part in it. I berate Merinus or she thinks she can make a habit of poking her nose in my business. It's that simple."

Cassie shook her head. "Nothing is ever so simple." She sighed. "No ill will come of berating her, but as you said, she will give a second thought to her actions for a while." Cassie stood slowly to her feet. "And really, Jonas, you don't want her to do that."

She didn't say anything more.

Turning, she ran up the stairs, leaving him to watch after her. He shook his head in resignation. He'd be damned if he couldn't have drained some of the frustration eating him alive if he could have tested his wits against Merinus's rapidly growing will.

Cassie paused at the top of the stairs, turned and frowned curiously. "Jonas?"

"Yeah, brat?" He rose to his feet and stared up at her with a patient scowl.

"Why did you tell Rachel she thought that while the cat was away the mouse would play?"

He didn't answer.

Stifling his curse, he turned on his heel, jerked open the door and raced to the Raider.

Damn her. He wouldn't allow it. He had no relief. There was no way to still the lust tearing at his guts and no way to ease the hunger eating at his soul. He would be damned if he would allow it.

She did it, she did it.

Rachel was still doing the little internal chant as she sat across from Jonas in the heli-jet hours later, the powerful motor flying them quickly to their destination.

All he'd had to do was leave the cabin, something he hadn't done in a week. At least, not while she had been awake.

But he had stomped out earlier, gotten in the Raider and driven off. Rachel had rushed to the bedroom, locked the door and pulled the toy free of her dress for one of the most intense orgasms of her life.

Damn, that shouldn't have been possible using fantasy alone.

She peeked over at Jonas through the cover of her lashes and wanted to let out a small laugh.

He was still furious. She didn't even care that he knew what she had done. The fact was, she had achieved it, and she felt great. Like a new woman.

How long had it been since she had found relief? Nine days? Yeah, she remembered the last time: the morning before Brandenmore had decided to invade her life, before going into work.

Jonas had been at the office every waking moment, it had seemed. Frowning. Growling. He'd even insisted on sitting beside her at her desk while she went over the figures for the new satellite system Vanderale Industries was donating to the Breeds.

That night, she had tossed and turned, and burned for him. That next morning, she had made certain she hadn't gone to work in the same state. Breeds could smell arousal.

"I can smell the scent of your release on you, and it offends me," he suddenly growled.

Uh-oh.

"Really?" She smiled back at him. "The smell is offensive?"

She rather doubted it.

"Don't play games, Rachel," he warned her, his voice tight. "They could come with consequences."

She was intimidated, but showing it would be a really bad thing.

Instead, she leaned forward against the security harness that held her in her seat and stared back at him defiantly. "Just because you're my boss doesn't make you my keeper," she informed him. "I've been taking care of certain things all by myself for a long time now. I don't have a problem continuing to do so."

"Then I'll assume Devon Marshal provided little pleasure the night Amber was conceived," he stated, his tone flat and to the point.

Rachel sat back. "Devon has nothing to do with this conversation. Please stop being mean, Jonas. It doesn't become you."

It didn't become him, but he was so good at it. She cast him a narrow-eyed glare as her lips thinned in disapproval.

"Being mean definitely becomes me," he assured her. "Haven't you heard? I enjoy being mean."

There was the faintest note of resentment in his tone. She couldn't blame him. He was called the bogeyman of the Breeds on national television on a regular basis.

"I like you better when you're being polite," she pointed out calmly as she forced her body into a more relaxed state.

"I'm certain you do," he growled. "It's much easier to get away with things you know you shouldn't do then, isn't it?"

She shrugged. "It's easier to ask forgiveness than to beg for permission," she reminded him. "Isn't that one your favorite sayings?"

She knew it was. He said it often--whenever he broke the rules himself.

"In this case, not asking for permission could be dangerous. I'm about a second from that kiss you've been avoiding all week like the plague, Rachel. You don't want to push this."

She widened her eyes in mock fear. "I'm so sorry, Jonas. I promise to never do it again." She batted her lashes for effect.

She was slipping into a mood she was certain would get her into trouble. It never failed to make Diana crazy when Rachel set out to irritate her.

Of course, if her sister would find that sense of fun she used to have, then Rachel wouldn't have to irritate her so often.

"I can smell a lie too, remember?" He was so obviously controlling himself that for a second Rachel wondered what it would be like if he lost all that cool, calculated reason that was the backbone of his being.

This mood was all his fault, she decided. If he had just left her alone, if he hadn't somehow managed to draw her and Amber into one of the complicated games he was forever playing, then he wouldn't have had to worry about that troublemaking streak she fought to keep subverted.

Jonas watched her, eyes narrowed, his senses fine-tuned as he opened the primal part of his genetics and allowed it partial freedom.

His hearing, acute anyway, became more so. His sense of smell became deeper, nuances easier to detect. The pores of his flesh seemed to open as the claws beneath the human nails threatened to flex free.

She was good. She had a control over her responses that normally only Breeds possessed. She was able to convince her body to follow the commands of her mind, but only to a certain point.

The arousal she was fighting was on the edge of slipping free, and he could sense the fiery, spicy-sweet taste of it against his tongue as he drew in the scent of her.

She hid it well; he had to give her that. There were no external signs of arousal. Her nipples weren't hard, she wasn't flushed, her breathing wasn't in the least labored. The arousal was shielded, pushed back, but definitely there and waiting to break free.

As he kept his senses focused on her, she slid the electronic planner she used free of her leather briefcase and flipped it on with a smooth motion of her slender fingers.

The screen lit up as she pulled the stylus out of its holder and began to work on whatever she had brought with her.

"Senator Racert has sent you several emails," she murmured as she glanced up at him, her green eyes barely hiding the mischievous glimmer that he could sense pushing at her control. She was dying to test his limits, he could feel it.

He'd had no idea the playful little thing she could be.

"Racert is always sending emails." He shrugged. "It's one of his failings."

A quick little frown pulled at her brow. "Did you know this afternoon's meeting is going to involve several other senators who aren't part of the Breed Appropriations Committee?"

"That's normal." Jonas shrugged again at the question. "Racert likes to show us lowly Breeds how undeserving we are and make his attempt to convince us to turn over portions of the Breed funds to their little pork barrel projects."

They sickened him. Racert was one of the worst. He was convinced Breed intelligence was so far beneath humans' that taking the funds awarded to the Breeds would be simple. Ten years, and still the man was certain he could convince the Breed portion of the committee that they were receiving funds they didn't deserve.

Money they used to build Sanctuary and the Wolf base, Haven. Funds used to defend and protect the communities they were building to ensure the safety of their own species.

Most of the countries of the world paid into those funds. Predetermined amounts were set aside and deposited on a yearly basis into a multinational fund in Switzerland, which the Breeds had access to.

There were limits to the money, though. One was the appropriations committee, which had been created to oversee the larger amounts that were paid out. The committee had been created as a protective measure to ensure that future Breeds never used those funds to build arms against the countries that paid into it.

"The senators meeting with you today are there to attempt to convince you to use the funds for something other than Breed-designated projects, then?"

"Of course." His brows lifted at her surprise. "Surely you didn't think we haven't had to fight to keep that money, Rachel. You know your government better than that."

"True." She inclined her head in acknowledgment before turning her attention back to the electronic planner.

"Which toy did you use?" Jonas allowed the question to slip free, his curiosity getting the better of him.

She froze. He sensed her forcing her emotions as well as her response to him deeper inside that shielded parted of her psyche. She had no intentions of giving in to him any more than she had to.

"Excuse me?" She lifted her gaze back to him.

"Which toy did you use to achieve release?" His body was tight, his control was shaky. Jonas could feel the need to touch her tearing through his system now.

Evidently, she sensed the danger inherent in answering him. He watched as her tongue swiped over her lips nervously. She inhaled slowly, deeply, fighting back the need to tease him, perhaps? He wished she would tease him. For a moment, he would have given anything if she would have pushed at the fragile thread of control that held back the beast determined to mark her.

"Jonas, this is not a conversation I want to have."

He watched as her face flushed a delicate, rosy hue. Her green eyes flashed with undisguised desire, and slowly, temptingly, his senses filled with the sweet, spicy scent of feminine need.

She was losing control--over her body, at least. He could sense the sensual weakening, feel it rushing through him as it simultaneously pulsed through her body.

He had to clench his teeth, force back the claws determined to push free and hold back a growl of hunger that he feared could terrify them both.

"It's a conversation I want to have though," he assured her. "I want to know what you thought about, Rachel. Who was in your imagination when you came? Who was taking you as your body arched and your breath caught in pleasure?"

A fine shudder raced through her. Any other man would have missed it. Most Breeds would have missed it. But Jonas felt it. He swore he could feel the vibrations as the sensation tore through her body.

His cock was so damned hard he swore it was in danger of bursting. His balls drew up tight to the base, blood pulsed and shuddered through the heavy shaft.

In his entire life he had never wanted, never ached for anything as he did this woman, his mate.

His woman.

Nature had created her for him alone. God had gifted him, and holding himself back from her was the hardest thing he had ever done in his entire life.

"Please don't." The plea in her voice was heavy with her own battle to deny him.

" 'Please don't,' " he murmured. "Such a delicate little plea for something we both want so desperately. Tell me, Rachel, how much longer do you think we can continue to deny it?"

He wasn't going to make it long. The taste of the hormone filled his senses, dug sharpened claws into his control and shredded it further.

"As long as we have to." She breathed in hard, deep. "I don't need a mate, Jonas. I don't need a man, period. I want my life back, and I'm certain you do as well. Giving in to this is only going to complicate both our lives."

"You think you can walk away then?" The animal instincts that were so much a part of him roared out in denial. He would never, ever allow her to walk away from him.

"I know I can." In her eyes he saw her belief in that statement. "I have no choice, Jonas. Neither do you. When this is over, Amber and I will leave. So I would suggest looking for a new assistant while you can."

He was in her face. Even before he realized it, he leaned forward, his palms flat at the sides of her seat, his nose almost touching hers, his eyes locked with hers.

"Never." The rumble of sound that tore from his throat bore little resemblance to the voice of a man. "I'll never let you go."

"And I won't allow you to hold me. Tell me, do you truly want a mate who wants nothing more than to escape?"

"If that's the only way I can have you, then I'll take it and be content," he promised her with a snarl. "Think about that, Rachel. Believe it. Keep pushing this, keep pushing me, and I'll show exactly how easy it will be to hold you."

Before he lost all semblance of the man he was, Jonas jerked back in his own seat and fought the need. God, he fought. He wanted to feel her against him. He was dying for her touch. Anything to ease the tightness in his flesh, the ache for the warmth of her touching him rather than reaching out for him.

He had lived through hell. He had been created to kill and to breed. Now, nature was pushing, demanding, overriding his control and creating a path he hadn't meant to take.

The plans he had made over the years were now falling by the wayside in favor of a life he had promised himself he wouldn't attempt to live.

Fate had stepped in, and Jonas could now only pray that she had some idea what the hell she was doing. Because he was damned if he knew.