xxx

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, her lips in a thoughtfulpout as she stared at the tracks.
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It wasn't unusual for owners to disengage their GPS unless they wanted
to use it, though it was heavily frowned upon and in certain areas could
result in high fines. This was one of those areas.
Danger almost shimmered in the waves of heat that drifted over the
vehicle.
Making up her mind quickly, she exited the Raider, moving to the front
of it and bending down to inspect the tire tracks more closely. They cut
deep into the ground, the off-road tires leaving a distinctive mark as
they made their way down the steep slope into the narrow valley below.
She reached out, her fingers brushing over the tracks as she tried to
focus on the impressions coming from them.
Fear. Determination. She could feel the emotions from inside the vehicle
on the impressions in the loose sand and dirt.
Staring at the area, she moved farther to the right, her fingers running
over the edge of another print. Mountain boots. Someone had followed
the vehicle in on foot. And they weren't there for the scenery either.
She rubbed at her chin, frowning as she tried to remember the lessons
her grandfather had given her in tracking as a young girl. The tracks
were at the least twenty-four hours old, no more than forty-eight. The
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mountain boots were more recent, within the past eight to ten hours.
She tilted her head then, her eyes narrowing at the lack of emotion or
sensation that came from touching the tracks. They were calm, centered.
As though whoever made them had known no fear, no anger, no
emotion as they made their way into the gully.
"Control, I'm heading in to investigate," she announced as she rose and
moved back to her vehicle. "There's evidence of someone following on
foot. It could be our missing hiker from Area Two."
"That's miles away, Fields," Lenny pointed out. "A good two-day hike."
"Yeah, but who the hell knows with some of these greenhorns." She
sighed as she closed the door and attached her seat belt once again. "I'll
check it out before heading home. Fields: out."
She engaged the vehicle's rough-terrain drive with a flip of the switch
before heading down the steep incline into the sluicing path made by the
millions of flash floods that had traversed it over the centuries.
Maneuvering slowly, she kept her eyes narrowed for signs of the vehicle
or the hiker. The wide gully split into several smaller tributaries, some
leading to secret caves that flooded easily during the rainy season,
others cutting a course in the land before slowly narrowing to dead ends.
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This gully was deeper than most, the steep walls easily reaching ten to
fifteen feet above the sandy base. Rock houses and deep craters had
been cut into the walls, proof of the incredible force of the water that
had gouged a path into the gully. Through the center of it, the tire tracks
continued until they disappeared around a steep bend.
Megan watched the curve as she approached it slowly. She could feel a
building sense of danger as she drew closer, of something not right. The
sun seemed too bright, the heat radiating off the hood of the Raider too
intense.
All her senses suddenly kicked in and spiked in strength. Wariness filled
her, as did the sense of impending doom.
Rounding the curve, she braked slowly, staring at the black SUV sitting
silently beneath the golden rays of the sun.
Damn. This wasn't exactly what she had expected.
The vehicle, while not as desert-friendly as her own, was definitely built
for off-road maneuvering. The heavy,terrain-cutting tires were made to
aid in pulling the vehicle from muddy or sandy ground. At least. when
they weren't flat, as these tires were.
She looked across the gully walls, eyes narrowed against the sun as she
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enabled the Raider's vehicle security. The hum and vibration of the tire
protectors sliding into place, along with the energized bulletproof
shielding, accompanied the rapid beat of her heart.
Death. She sensed it now.
"Fields, we show security engaged on your vehicle. Are you in trouble?"
Lenny's voice was suddenly alert.
"Negative, Control. Not yet, anyway," she answered as she checked her
field gun, sliding an extra clip of ammo into her vest as she disengaged
her seat belt. "I found the vehicle. It appears abandoned, all tires
flattened, windows shattered. I'm going in for a closer look."
She breathed in deeply, fighting to block the remnants of horror that
pulsed through the gully. Death. Her chest clenched, her lungs aching as
she forced air into them, fighling past the pure grief that rolled over her.
I failed_ She flinched at the sudden random emotion that drifted to her.
It wasn't her thought, nor her failure, but she felt it pierce her soul.
This was why she hid in the desert. Because of this curse, she wasn't
safe to work with, nor to work around.
Because of what she felt now, she knew she could never do the work she
had always dreamed of. The empathic abilities fractured her attention,
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drew her so deeply into the morass of emotions that flowed from others
that her concentration and her control began to crumble.
She breathed in harshly, determined to push back the pain and rage of
another's emotions as she attempted to find the reason why it existed.
"Negative, Fields." The voice of her cousin, Sheriff Lance Jacobs, came
over the receiver. "Get out of that gully and await reinforcements. All
copters are out of range and unable to assist. I'll head out with Crawford
now."
Megan snorted. She could hear the demand in his voice.
"I'm not the meter maid, boss," she drawled. "Regardless of your
attempts to make me one. The tracks into the gully are at best twentyfour
hours old. Whatever happened here is done and gone."
She hoped.
She activated the display board on her windshield, watching for signs of
life within the gully. She couldn't trust her senses now; they were too
flooded with the rage and pain that flowed from the vehicle in front of
her. But she had a feeling she really wasn't alone.
"Display shows the gully clear of life signs. I'm going to do an initial
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investigation while I wait on you."
His curse was muffled, his frustration wasn't. He knew the problems she
had experienced during training at the Law Enforcement Academy, just
as he knew that it was the reason she had returned home rather than
taking one of the offers from the larger cities that had come her way.
"Proceed with extreme caution, Megan," he warned her. "I don't like the
feel of this."
Neither did she.
She stepped out of the vehicle, cocking her head at the silence of the
gully. It was as though all life had deserted the area. Normally it would
be filled with the whisper of birds' wings, small wildlife and insects
fighting for food and survival. This gully was one of the few areas that
managed to retain moisture within the small caverns the water had
carved from it. There should be life here.
There was only death.
A peculiar, horrifying stench filled the air as well. The smell of death
wrapped around her, thick and filled with menace in the late afternoon
stillness. She felt the tension thicken, and it wasn't just her own.
"Lance, it stinks here." She heard her own voice tremble as she stared at
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the SUV gleaming beneath the hot sun.
Her chest tightened as she glimpsed the presence of two bodies through
the heavily tinted, rnostly shattered glass.
"Goddamn, Megan. Get the hell out of there." Lance hissed, his voice
heavy with dread.
Chills raced over her scalp, her shoulders, tightening her muscles as she
pushed back the sensations and fought to get a better grip on what was
there. Releasing the light field Wounder from the holster at her hip, she
held it confidently, her senses rioting and sending adrenaline coursing
through her as she walked to the vehicle.
Damn, she wished she had a real weapon, rather than the Wounder used
for lighter duty such as patrol. It only slowed down a criminal rather than
incapacitating him. Its greatest plus was its extended range. One of its
drawbacks was the inability to predict its effect in any given situation.
"The vehicle is riddled with bullet holes. We have at least two dead," she
spoke into the microphone, relaying the information she found to the
control center.
The windows of the SUV were punctured with bullets. The tires had been
ripped apart by them; the cliffs rising from the gully were scoured with
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ammunition damage. The smell of death surrounded the area, the heat
and carnage inside the vehicle twisted her gut as she surveyed the scene.
"Definitely two dead," she reported as she stepped back. "God, Lance,
their mothers couldn't identify them." The bullets had tom through their
upper bodies, ripping away much of their facial features.
"Megan, get back to the Raider now!" Lance ordered, his voice edged
with steel.
She could feel the hairs along her nape standing on end as her spine
began to tingle. Turning slowly, her gaze narrowed on the high gully
walls as adrenaline rushed through her system and her senses began to
riot. Someone was watching her.
"Infrared showed no signs of life_" she mused out loud. Somehow,
something had interfered with the system's readings, because she knew
someone, something, was out there.
She could feel the eyes watching her, malevolence following her.
Her finger tightened on the trigger of her weapon as she felt the danger
intensify. Where? Where was it coming from? She could feel it watching
her, tracking every move she made, yet the sensors in the vehicle
showed no signs of life.
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"I'm heading back," she agreed. "Something's messed up on the Raider,
Lance. Check it out. It showed no life signs_"
Lance was cursing, screaming at Lenny to find the copters, to get his unit
ready to roll. Backup. Yeah, she needed backup now.
Megan could feel the eyes trained on her. Even worse, she could feel the
weapons.
She backed up, her eyes scanning the gully as her heart raced in her
chest. Her mouth felt dry, her body tense with the need to turn and run.
She was halfway to the Range Raider when she felt the first shots being
taken. She could actually feel the malicious energy pouring over her a
second before she threw herself across the gully toward one of the small
caverns that had been cut into the wall.
Violence exploded through the air. Bullets tore into the sandy ground,
moving like lightning across the gully and taking chunks from the rock
wall of the entrance of the cavern she had thrown herself into.
"Megan. Megan, report." Lance was yelling in her ear as she plastered
herself against the dubious safety of a small indentation the water had
cut into the side of the wall, keeping her body well away from the
entrance.
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"At least two," she snapped into the mic, keeping her eyes trained on the
entrance and the sliver of outside she could see from her position. "How
faraway did you say the copters werc?"
"I said they were too fucking far away." Lance snarled furiously.
"Dammit, Megan, we're too far away from you."
Yeah. She remembered now. Damn. That sucked.
Holding her weapon ready, she moved carefully to peer around the
protection of the groove in the wall to get a sense of the movement
outside the cavern. She ducked back just in time to save her head as the
bullets ripped around her once again.
"Give me an idea of what's going on. We're heading out there but we're
at least an hour away."
She could hear the force of his breath behind his words, proof that he
was running from the control center and heading to his vehicle.
An hour.
Boy, she was so screwed.
"I'm holed up in a small cavern. I have at least one assailant in clear
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view of the entrance keeping me hemmed in. I can't tell what's going on
outside though." She swallowed tightly. "Lance, I'm not going to make it
an hour."
Chills raced over her flesh, a premonition of increasing danger as the air
thickened around her, growing heavier, hotter. Time seemed to stand
still, to creep by at a turtle's pace. So much could happen in an hour.
Over the receiver, voices raged in the background, the sound of tires
screaming as vehicles roared.
"Stay put!" She winced at the fury in Lance's voice. "Keep your weapon
aimed at the entrance and fucking stay the hell where you are."
"Yeah, that was my intention," she answered as she breathed in roughly.
"What the hell is going on out here, Lance? Why stick around after the
killing?'
It didn't make sense. Whoever killed that couple should have been long
gone, not waiting around to see who found the bodies.
And why hadn't she sensed the killers? She should have felt them, even
if the sensors hadn't picked them up.
"Well, why don't you just ask them, Miss Nosy?' Lance snarled through
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the mic. "Dammit, I told you to turn back. Didn't I tell you to turn back?'
Cousins. They were always : saying "I told you so."
"Yeah, well, you tell me to go to sit tight and look pretty too. Since when
did I start listening to you?' Sweat rolled down her back as the need to
move tightened her muscles. Bullets tore through the entrance again as
she flattened herself further against the wall and tried to become one
with the stone. Damrnit, all she needed was a little bit more room.
"Shit." She wheezed. "Those were close. Hell, Lance, I really wish you
would hurry."
She screeched as bullets ripped through the entrance again, hitting lower
to the ground, spraying sand at her feet as she tried to crawl up the wall
to prevent the deadly projectiles from tearing into her feet.
"Your girl needs to be spanked, Lance." The strange, arrogant voice
coming through the receiver made her stiffen in shock as a tense silence
suddenly filled the line.
Calm. Centered. There were no riotous emotions pouring over her as she
heard the voice, no impressions of past pains or lost dreams. There was
just an unbroken circle of peace.
She latched onto it. Felt it weaving around her, sensed the nearness of
the voice despite the sardonic amusement within it.
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"Where are you. Braden?'Lance sounded frantic as Megan dodged
another volley of shots. Whoever was out there had obviously moved for
a better angle into the shallow cavern. The bullets were coming closer to
her, tearing chunks out of the wall and pelting more sharp projectiles of
stone.
"Close enough." The rough, growling tone of his voice sent shivers up
her spine as she pushed herself closer to the stone at her back.
"If you're close enough then take a shot, dammit." She covered her face
with her arm as more shots rang out, sending a rain of rocks exploding
around her head.
Stooping, she leveled her weapon and fired twice into the gully toward
the estimated position of her assailant before she threw herself to the
other side of the wall and watched in horror as the wall where she had
been standing took five hard bursts of gunfire.
Okay, that was about as close to death as she ever wanted to come.
"Politeness counts, baby." The humor in his voice almost had her lips
twitching in response as she moved farther into the cavern. "Say please."
Shock washed through her system as a chuckle sounded through the
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earphone.
"Please?'she questioned furiously, her amusement quickly dissipating.
"There you go. See, that didn't hurt a bit, did it?"
She screeched as hard arms suddenly surrounded her from out of the
darkness and the voice blew a breath of air across her ear.
Her elbow slammed back into a hard-packed abdomen as she attempted
to hook her foot around his ankle and throw him off balance. All she got
in reward was a sudden tightening of his arms and the breath whooshing
from her chest.
Adrenaline surged through her like fireworks out of control. He was
holding her, restraining her. Shock, fear, and the overwhelming instinct
to survive were all she knew at that moment.
For the first time in her life, the emotions of others, the frustrations,
fears and angers of those around her weren't flooding her brain. Only the
need to survive.
"Settle down. The cavalry's here. Or a version of it, anyway." His soft
laughter did nothing to still the rush of fear and the instinctive need to
fight.
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"Can you extract?" She was only distantly aware of Lance barking the
question into the headset.
"Can and will, if she would stop fighting me like a little wildcat." She was
lifted off her feet as the dark male voice deepened. "You have a claim on
her, Jacobs? I think I might like to keep her."
Keep her? What the hell, was she a trophy now? She grunted as she
tried to elbow him again, fought to throw him off balance.
"Get her the hell out of there. You want to risk the second, it's your
head. We're on our way."
"Let me go." Satisfaction filled her when she finally managed to land a
blow that caused him to tense, his hold weakening enough for her to tear
away and turn on him.
Dark amber eyes stared back at her, the color intensifying in the
shadowed expanse of the cavern.
Calm. It wrapped around her, soothing the ragged edge of her own
nerves as it forced her to center herself.
"If you're going to shoot, hurry up and do it." A growl seemed to linger
in his voice as white teeth flashed in a sundarkened face. "Otherwise,
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we're going to be hamburger meat if we don't get to my Raider before
they get to us."
She could hear the voices outside the cavern now. Obviously more than
one, and getting closer.
She lowered her gun, breathing harshly as control slowly returned.
"I don't think I like you,'' she snapped as he turned and began leading
the way through a dark, nearly hidden crevice in the rock wall, the kind
often formed when one of the tributaries of water cracked through the
weaker portions of the caverns. It was barely wide enough to make their
way through, deep and dark, stifling hot. Its confines wrapped the scent
of man around her rather than death.
And oh boy, did he smell good. Dark and male, and like the land itself,
hot and hard and rich with life. She liked that smell. Too damned much.
Because suddenly it wasn't the danger following them that filled her;
rather, it was the scent of the man ahead of her and the sensual forks of
sensation it sent careening through her body. He made her think of sex.
"Good. Conflict just makes life more interesting."
He was insane. She loved it. She could feel her heartbeat racing with the
danger, adrenaline heightening her senses, surging through her with a
natural high that almost made her giddy.
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They moved quickly and within minutes the slender threads of sunlight
began lighting their way.
"We're out,'' Braden announced as they moved through the entrance and
ran to his Raider parked just in front of it.
"We're on our way,'' Lance replied. "Get her out of there_"
"No!" She turned on the brawny, wild creature that jumped into the
driver's side of the Raider as she turned in the passenger's seat.
For whatever reason she could no longer feel the rage, the need to kill,
the terror and the fear that had echoed from the valley. With the arrival
of this man, and the calm that seemed to reach out from him like a
shield that blocked those jarring emotions, she was centered once again.
"I can do this." She needed to fight. To prove to herself she could. "We
can't afford to let them get away. They killed, and they were waiting for
me. We need to know why."
He turned, his oddly colored eyes reflecting amused approval as a
crooked grin tilted his hard, sensual lips.
"Let's get them then_"
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"Hell no," Lance all but screamed then. "Damn you, Braden, get her the
hell out of there."
She continued to watch Braden as he looped a length of leather around
his long, tawny-gold hair and tied it at his nape.
"Megan Fields." She extended her hand as excitement poured through
her.
"Braden Arness." His grip was strong, firm. It sent a pulse of energy
whipping through her arm, echoing along her body. But there were none
of the riotous emotions coming from him that she felt from others.
Emotions that normally left her drained, unable to think clearly. She felt
the remnants of the earlier violence dissipating, the horror of a death not
her own easing, as though the calm he projected extended to those
around him.
"Braden, she's not experienced enough. Get her back to Control," Lance
ordered again. "We can handle this."
Braden's eyes narrowed as he watched her. Casually he disconnected
reception by flipping the mic up while his eyes stared into hers.
"Do you like to live dangerously?" His eyelids lowered, a hungry, almost
sexual expression crossing his face.
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A smile trembled on her lips as she flipped her mic back as well. "I live
for it."
Braden turned in his seat, revved the Raider's powerful motor and took
off. No seat belts, no word of warning as he turned the wheel sharply,
sending the Raider skidding along the sandy ground as it headed back
toward the gully.
"Wheel protectors and bullet shield engaged." She activated the security
settings before checking her weapon and lowering the window at her
side.
The bullets would clear the security field with no problem, but anything
shot into it would explode harmlessly before touching the vehicle. Most
of the time, anyway.
"Wrong weapon."
Megan turned, her eyes widening as Braden reached to the floorboard
between the bucket seats and pulled an automatic, laser-guided rifle
forward. "Try this one."
Illegal to the max.
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She loved it.
She opened her mind to the calm that reached out from him, centering
on it, letting it merge with her own fragile shields and finding it easier
than she could have imagined as she tested the weight of the weapon he
handed her.
The trim-line, fully automatic laser-guided rifle fired a deadly accurate
blast that left a hole in a man the size of the Grand Canyon.
As with the man, even the weapons he owned carried no residue of
violence or rage. They were tools, nothing more.
"Dead men don't shoot back, sweetheart," he reminded her as she cast
him a gimlet stare.
"Lance will shoot us both." She grimed in delight.
"Yeah, but his bullets don't kill." He grunted. "Damned police-issue crap.
What happened to the good ole days?"
She turned. bracing the rifle's barrel on the window as they sped around
the curve into the gully where her own Raider sat. Gunfire blasted
against their shields.
"Three o'clock." He yelled out the position. "Give 'em hell."
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Her finger tightened on the trigger as she further braced the rifle against
her shoulder, allowing the weapon to pound against her as she held the
trigger back and sliced an arrow of death through the gully wall.
Bullets ricocheted off the shield as they passed, a second before she saw
the first body fall.
"One down." She let off the trigger, throwing herself against the seat as
Braden threw the vehicle into another turn for the second pass.
"Second one is on the run. There he is." Rather than pulling up the heatseeking
radar on the windshield, he pointed to where a shadow moved
along a crevice at the top of the wall. "Are you going to wound or
wipe?'Kill or capture.
"Wound. I want answers." She pulled her own weapon free. "Let's roll."
Exhilaration pumped through her as the tires bit into the ground and the
vehicle shot down the expanse of the gully.
She aimed, watching the laser sight on the weapon carefully.
"Get your eyes off that damned light." Braden snarled. "Use your gut.
Let it tell you when to shoot. Those laser guides are for sissies."
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She licked her dry lips nervously, took a deep breath and watched the
assailant as he ran. She lifted the weapon a bit higher than the sight
called for, letting her senses explode, reaching out to the weapon as her
Navajo grandfather had taught her to rather than depending on the
sights as her training had.
She fired the first shot, cursing silently as the bullet bounced away
harmlessly just above her target's head.
Quickly adjusting, she fired again, twice in rapid succession, and
watched with a sense of satisfaction as the sniper shooting at her fell.
"Get ready." The Raider turned, slammed to a stop, and Braden exploded
from the vehicle to secure him.
"Darnmit, that was dirty pool." Megan raced out behind him. "I took him
down, I get to cuff him."
A roar exploded from Braden's throat as he struggled with the assailant,
who was growling with feral intensity. She stood back in shock, homfied
as she watched the curved fangs flash at the side of the assailant's
mouth a second before they sank into Braden's shoulder.
Braden's fist slammed into the side of his head, a furious roar leaving his
chest as wicked, long canines were revealed by the animalistic snarl on
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his lips.
They were both Breeds.
Suddenly, the man who had been her co-conspirator in adventure was a
primal, unknown threat. Discounting the fact that Braden seemed to
know Lance, she couldn't be certain that even her cousin knew the man
she faced now.
Shock transfixed her as she backed away, eyes wide, weapon raised.
Braden's fist landed in the undefended underbelly of the shooter, taking
his breath before Braden landed another hard blow to the face and then
delivered an incapacitating strike to the vulnerable neck.
It was powerful enough to knock the other man unconscious. Powerful
enough to send a pulse of terror pounding through her as she flipped her
mic down. She reactivated he receiver at her ear as she leveled her
weapon on Braden. He was powerful enough that the next blow he was
drawing back for might very well kill the only thing alive capable of
telling her what had happened here.
"Step away from him," she ordered, raising her voice above the
animalistic growl rumbling from his chest. It would have been sexy if it
didn't sound so damned dangerous. "Now."
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She couldn't afford to trust him. She couldn't sense Braden, couldn't
read him as she could others. And suddenly, she wasn't so certain that
he wasn't the enemy as well.
"Megan? Megan? Is that you? Thank God!" Lance was screaming in her
ear. "We're headed your way in a private chopper, ETA five minutes.
What's your situation?"
She ignored his frantic questions.
"I thought you liked to live dangerously?" The canines flashed again as a
growl rumbled from Braden's chest and he began to walk toward her.
Megan fired at his feet, causing him to come to a dead stop as he stared
back at her in surprise. His brow lifted mockingly.
"I wouldn't come any closer if I were you," she warned him firmly.
He flipped his rnic down.
"Lance, your girl doesn't want to believe I'm one of the 1 good guys.
Reassure her, huh?"
Braden was laughing. The son of a bitch was staring at her and laughing.
No anger, no rage, no desire for retaliation against her. "Sometime
before she puts a hole in my toe." She aimed higher. "Or somewhere
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more important."
She felt his amusement. It eased around her like a caress as she
breathed in deeply, forcing herself to release the edge of calm she had
allowed herself to tap into. His calm.
"Do you two think this is fun and games time?" Lance was screaming as
the sound of the chopper coming in from the distance could be heard.
"Megan, if you shoot him, I'm going to tan your hide for sure. You'll
never get out of booking. Do you hear me? Pull back, dammit."
She kept her gun leveled on him. Fine, Lance trusted him, but did her
cousin know who and what they were dealing with here?
"The situation here is contained," she reported. "But I think I'll play it a
bit safe and keep Puss in Boots in my sights until you get here."
Braden's eyes narrowed at the nickname as silence filled the receiver,
confirming her suspicion that he was indeed a Lion Breed. Coyote fangs
held a hard curve; the Lion Breeds' were straighter. He might not be the
enemy, but he wasn't exactly safe either.
Lance groaned a second later. "Megan, sweetheart, you are digging
yourself into a hole you won't be able to pull yourself out of here."
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If the way Cat-boy was looking at her was any indication, she already
had. Anger swirled in the golden depths of his eyes as he flipped the mic
up and crossed his arms over his impressively broad chest.
She didn't feel the anger though. It wasn't whipping at her head,
shredding her nerves. It was contained within him. Damn, she really
could have grown to like him. Maybe.
"You do like to live dangerously then." The rough timbre of his voice sent
a chill up her spine. "Next time, I'll let you tangle with the Coyotes and
I'll find a nice place to sit and watch."
"Yeah, you do that." She refused to let the gun waver so much as an
inch.
She could feel the tension in the air, despite his apparent casual stance.
He was waiting on an opening, watching her for a weakness. And she
could feel it, feel his readiness consuming her, pounding through her
blood.
It was exciting rather than painful. Exhilarating when it should have been
terrifying.
He shook his head in mock sadness, the deceptively lazy stance of his
powerful body almost deceiving her into relaxing her guard. Jeans
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loosely molded his powerful thighs, a gray T-shirt hugged his broad
chest. He was a walking sex machine and the glitter of his unusual eyes
showed her he knew it.
"We were making a great team." He sighed as the sound of the
helicopter grew louder. "It's too bad, Megan. I was finally starting to
have fun."
He jumped for her. Damn. No warning, no thought, no impression of
what he was going to do before he did it. He just did it.
The gun flew from her hand as she hit the ground, the breath whooshing
from her body as his heavier length covered her, heated her.
"Later baby." He nipped her ear before jumping to his feet and racing for
his Raider. A second later, dust enveloped her as he sped through the
gully and disappeared around a bend. The sound of the helicopter grew
closer.
Geez, could this day get much worse?
Washington D.C.
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Senator Macken Cooley frowned in displeasure as the cell phone vibrated
in his jacket pocket, forcing him to take his attention from the statutes of
Breed Law he was currently reviewing. The mandates that governed the
new species and gave them their special rights were a thorn in his side.
They were creatures. They weren't animal or human; they deserved no
rights.
As the special, secured cell phone continued to vibrate, he jerked it from
his jacket pocket with a grimace that turned to a look of interest when
he saw the number on the caller ID.
"Yes?'
"Arness was there," a low voice spoke into the phone.
"Megan Fields has taken out one of the hunters and captured the other."
Braden Arness was becoming the problem he had predicted to the
Genetics Council. He smirked at the ire in the voice on the phone,
wishing he knew who his contact was; he would love to imagine the
expression that went with the voice at the moment. He didn't sound
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pleased.
"I warned you it wouldn't be so easy." He couldn't help but gloat. "She
doesn't hide in that desert because she doesn't know what she's doing."
He had tried to warn the Genetics Council of this when they decided to
take the matter out of his hands.
They didn't know the girl or her family as he did. Their special psychic
powers would make it practically impossible to ambush one of them,
especially Megan Fields. Her empathic abilities were stronger than most,
harder to control, but definitely impressive.
"We're turning over two units to you, Senator," the voice rasped.
"They're ex-Navy SEALS and dedicated to our cause. Don't mess up. We
won't try to cover you if you're caught. You're on your own."
"And if I succeed?He could feel his cock stiffening at the thought of the
control he would soon have over the delicate little Megan.
If you succeed, you'll advance to the next position," the voice promised.
"If you fail, you'll die."
He wouldn't fail. And advancement within the Genetics Society was his
ultimate goal. He craved the power that would come with the position of
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a section leader. One of the few that commanded their own units of
Coyote soldiers. The spies would come to him then, their lives would be
in his control. The thought of that power was almost orgasmic.
As the phone connection was severed, he allowed anticipation to begin
building within him.
He didn't see the Breeds as human or as animal; they were creatures.
Tools to be used and nothing more. And Megan, by sheer chance, would
become no more than a pawn in his efforts to see the creatures placed
once again where they belonged-within captivity.
He would play with Megan a bit first though, see if she was as good as
her father had always claimed she was. He could take her out at any
time, but he wanted to see her fight. He wanted to see her scared. And
he wanted that damned arrogant Jonas Wyatt to come to the realization
that the Breeds were nothing compared to the Council. Nothing
compared to Senator Macken Cooley. Wyatt was always so arrogant, so
sure of himself and his power. Mac would show him once and for all the
reality of true power.
Of course, Wyatt would attempt to save Megan. He might even have her
placed in Sanctuary. It wouldn't matter. No matter where she went, Mac
knew his people could get to her. He wanted Wyatt to know that as well.
And maybe, just maybe before he killed little Megan, he would tell her
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why he had marked her for death. Not that she would remember at first.
He knew her. Knew how her powers worked. David Fields, her father,
had often confided in Mac as he worried for his daughter and her inability
to process the empathic signals she received.
No, she wouldn't remember that night; not until he took her life. He
would have her, and then he would kill her. But in the meantime, he
could play, just a little bit. The thought had him smiling as he turned
back to his research, his dedication renewed, his determination to find a
way to destroy those damned Breeds energized. He would succeed.
Chapter Two
Damn, she made him hard. It was the first thought that popped into
Braden's mind the next morning when Megan stepped into her cousin's
office and stared at him with instant suspicion.
She was dressed in tight, sexy jeans tucked into calfhigh boots. A khaki
shirt was buttoned just over the rise of her breasts; a wide belt cinched
her waist and held the holster for her police-issue Wounder that lay just
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behind her left hip.
A fine film of perspiration dotted her brow as her dark blue eyes gleamed
with amusement and a spark of menace. She would not be an easy
woman to control, but he had already guessed that.
And she was aroused. That was his second thought. It slammed into him
as the subtle, unmistakable scent of female heat reached his sensitive
nostrils. He sat up straighter at the scent, narrowing his eyes in
complete pleasure so he could relish it.
Who had aroused her, though? The prick to his male pride suddenly had
him frowning at her. She lifted her brow, her expression mocking.
He restrained his chuckle, just as he restrained the need to meet her
challenge. One thing was for sure: It wouldn't be long before he had
those pants off her ass and his cock seated snugly in that hot little pussy.
"You wanted to see me?'Megan prompted her cousin with a mocking lift
of her brow as she closed the door behind her.
Braden turned his gaze back to Lance, quirking his brow when he caught
the other man's less than pleased expression. Lance hadn't been thrilled
by the order that came from his superiors, nor by the information Braden
had given him on the Coyote's interrogation the night before. Not that
much had come of that.
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"Take a seat, Megan," Lance sighed.
Slouched back in his chair, his ankle propped on his knee, Braden turned
his head once again to watch her walk across the office. She moved like
a spring rain, smooth and silky. And damn if the smell of her didn't have
his mouth watering.
"Okay, so here I am." She stopped at the desk, eyeing the chair beside
Braden with no small amount of suspicion and a glint of humor as a
smile was quickly controlled. "I don't want to sit next to him. He bites."
She crossed her arms over her breasts, nice, compact little breasts with
just enough fullness to tempt him. Her mock frown informed him that
yesterday's little adventure hadn't really angered her. Those winged
black brows lowered over ocean blue eyes that looked deep enough to
drown a man, and challenged at the same time. He loved a challenge.
"She shoots." He restrained his smile as he turned back to Lance and
nodded in her direction. "I needed some sort of defense."
Lance wasn't amused. He wiped his hand over his face and muttered
something about "damn stubborn women."
Braden completely agreed with him.
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"Why is he here? Don't we have enough problems to deal with?'she
asked.
"Sit down, Megan," Lanced groused, obviously not in the mood for this
little meeting. "Even if it means moving the chair."
She did just that. Braden smiled at her slowly, wickedly, as he watched a
light flush color her bronzed flesh. The information he had on Megan had
been as clear, concise and well put-together as Braden had come to
expect from Jonas.
Her relationship with her cousin had been part of the report. It seemed
she and Lance had been sniping at each other for months due to her
insistence on taking the desert patrols rather than the safer assignments
in town. But they were closer than most brothers and sisters, let alone
cousins.
"I do have work to do today," she finally pointed out a bit impatiently
when neither of them spoke.
"No, you don't." Lance sat forward then, bracing his arms on his desk as
his frown darkened. "You're about to get exactly what you've been
wanting for the past two years. Congratulations." He wasn't pleased, but
Braden was already aware of that fact. Lance was madder than hell, not
just at Braden and the Bureau of Breed Affairs. but also at Megan.
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"Really?'she drawled in mocking amusement. "That's interesting. So,
does this mysterious want of mine include a gun?" Evidently that was
one argument she hadn't managed to win against her cousin. She hated
the police-issue Wounder and had been harassing him to requisition a
more powerful gun for her.
"Use one of your own," Lance harrumphed rudely. "You have enough of
them, and since you're no longer on official duty, I can't stop you. Or use
one of his. You seem to have done fine with it yesterday."
Megan cast Braden a look from the comer of her eye.
Braden gave her a smug, satisfied smile as her gaze moved fully to his.
Finally, she turned back to her cousin rather than voicing the mocking
retort he sensed lay on the tip of her very pretty tongue.
"Are you going to tell me what it is I'm getting? I have a lot of wants,
you know. Or are you going to let Mr. Arness do your talking for you?"
Spicy. That's what she was. Just spicy as hell. He loved it.
He lifted his foot from his knee and set it slowly back on the floor before
straightening in his chair. He never took his eyes off her, staring back at
her intently, loving how she met his gaze and hid the nervousness he
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could feel growing inside her.
Sometimes the animal DNA he possessed came in damned handy. The
natural empathic abilities easily picked up the emotions of those around
him, filtered them and came across without the emotional impact on his
own psyche that a normal person would experience. He knew what she
was feeling, but he didn't feel it himself.
He growled, a deliberate, rough vibration that rumbled dangerously from
his chest as he lowered his eyelids and let his gaze rake over her.
Heat flushed her face and he'd be damned if the soft, spicy-sweet smell
of her sex didn't have him ready to jump her then and there. He
wondered if she had glimpsed his hard-on. It would be damn hard to
miss if her gaze slid down just an inch farther.
"Menace," she muttered, clearly not intimidated as she turned back to
Lance. "Why is he here again? You haven't explained that one yet,
Lance."
"Making my life hell," Lance grumbled as he flicked him an irritated glare.
Braden tilted his head in mocking acknowledgment.
"Fine, he can make your life hell and I can leave." Megan moved to rise
from the chair.
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"Sit down, Meg." Her cousin sighed then. "This involves you, too. Too
much. Braden, as you know, is a Feline Breed. Lion, to be exact. His
assignment here is a bit complicated."
"And involves me how?"
Before Lance could speak, Braden broke in.
"In the fact that the Breeds you found dead in that gully were here
looking for you. As were the Coyotes. Would you like to explain that?'He
tilted his head, watching her closely, sensing her confusion.
"Me?" She shook her head, staring back at him, perplexed.
"Why would they be looking for me?"
"I was hoping you could answer that one."
"Lance, what's going on here?" she asked. A subtle scent almost of fear
reached out to him, made him want to shield her, protect her.
"Our interrogation of the Coyote you wounded yesterday revealed they
were here to kill Mark and Aimee·nd you. They were to murder them in
your area, where you would be drawn to them_" His choice of words had
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to be a mistake. "From there, they were to kill you, Megan."
She licked her lips nervously as she shook her head in denial. "But I
didn't know them. I've never been in contact with Breeds or any part of
the Council. Why target me? Why would they want me dead?"
Megan stared at Braden with the heavy weight of fear in her chest. She
couldn't imagine why the Council would want her dead, or why two
Breeds would have been searching for her. She hadn't been part of the
Breed rescues, nor the investigations that had taken down the various
Labs. She had left the Law Enforcement Academy and come straight
home to her job within Lance's office.
"I was hoping you could tell me." Braden sat back in his chair then,
watching her with eyes that mesmerized and seemed to see too much,
too easily.
"I don't know." She shook her head. She was confused. This couldn't
have anything to do with her empathic abilities. It had to be something
else.
"I'm here to find out why, then." His voice hardened, as did the amber
glow of his eyes. "I've been placed with the sheriff's department to learn
the reasons why our Breeds are dying here and what the Council wants
from you. To do that, certain steps have to be taken."
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Why did she have a feeling this was the kicker? She could see it in his
eyes, hear it in his voice. And if that wasn't enough, her stomach was
rioting with nenres, a sure sign that she was not going to like what was
about to come.
"Such as?"
"A Rep." Satisfaction filled his voice. "I am required to live with, and to
work with, a representative of the local law enforcement department.
One who is aware of what I am, but will tell no one else. Since you are
also part of the investigation, it's been decided by the sheriff and the
Bureau of Breed Affairs, that you will be that Rep."
Oh, it was decided? As though she had no opinion'? No say in how she
was maneuvered?
"Oh, I don't think so." She came out of her seat, instantly rejecting that
idea. There was not a chance in hell.
"We have great motels here. Hell, Lance lives alone. Stay with him."
Braden rose slowly to his feet, and she just couldn't help it. She just
couldn't help checking out those powerful, long legs encased in faded
denim and sitting in dark, scratched leather boots. She jerked her gaze
back to his, her face flaming at the knowing smirk on his lips. Not to
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mention the more than impressive bulge between his thighs.
"Lance isn't an option," he drawled. "You are the reason they are here.
They won't stop until they kill you, Megan."
"Bull. Shit," she snarled. "If they wanted to kill me they could have done
so at any time. Your Coyote is lying to you, Braden. Have you thought of
that?"
"I thought of it." He nodded slowly, that damned smile still in place. "I
prefer to err on the side of caution. So, roomie, when do we head home?"
Megan turned slowly to Lance. Her cousin had been watching the
argument silently, which wasn't like him. The look on his face wasn't
comforting.
"Do something," she snapped.
"I did." He sighed, his look intent, determined. "I approved it."
Like hell.
"Then you can disapprove it." She could feel herself shaking, and knew
she was making a mess of this meeting and she couldn't help it. "You
can't make me let him live in my home, Lance."
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Her response to Braden Arness was too strong, it went too deep. Every
cell in her body was tuned to him, and she didn't like it. She didn't want
it.
"Megan, sit back down." Lance sighed wearily as he stared up at her, his
eyes, nearly the same blue as her own, darkened with worry.
"I don't want to sit down," she explained with mock patience. "And I
definitely don't want that fang-toothed Neanderthal as a roommate."
She ignored the little growl, subtle and warning, that came from Braden.
Just as she tried to ignore the fires that the sound set in her body.
"Your cousin has a sharp little tongue, Lance." The rumble in Braden's
voice was deepening. "She's going to meet someone capable of dulling
it, soon."
"That'll be the day," Lance grunted, appearing less than pleased at the
subtle warning.
"Lance." Megan leaned forward, bracing her hands on his desk as she
met his gaze. "We don't know him. He could be behind all this himself."
Of course, she knew better. She could feel it. "How can you trust him far
enough to order me to let him stay at my home?"
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"Because those Coyotes are trying to kill you, Megan." Lance leaned
forward, his voice guttural, filled with anger.
"Because I'll be damned if I'll sit back and watch you walk into a fucking
ambush. So get used to it. You can cooperate in this or I'll contact the
family and we'll all move in with you. How does that one sound?"
She jerked upright. Contact the family? Her eyes widened at the threat,
then narrowed furiously. It wasn't helping that she could tell Braden was
enjoying every moment of the confrontation.
"Like hell." She tried to keep her voice reasonable as she cast Braden an
accusing stare. She was definitely going to blame him for this.
She hadn't lived with anyone since she had left the Academy. She
couldn't handle the emotions that vibrated between the walls from
others, the resonation of nightmares, dreams, hopes and fears. And God
knew, Braden had to have plenty of nightmares. And that was beside the
fact that he made her jittery. Well, maybe jittery was the wrong word.
Nervous, uncertain, not comfortable in her own skin. The thought of him
was enough to arouse her, and the memory of that little nip to her ear
was enough to set flares of sensation racing through her sex.
"Megan, what the hell is wrong with you? She could tell Lance was as
confused by her outbursts as she was.
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"You know you're not safe."
She flashed him a severe look. He knew what was wrong with her.
"I can't do it," she retorted, reminding him of the problems she had
living with others, dealing with their fears, their emotions. "You know I
can't."
His expression hardened. "You don't have a choice."
She turned on her heel and stalked to the door, refusing to argue the
point further, refusing-period.
"Megan, damrnit, come back here." Lance's anger was like a whip
stinging her sensitive mind. She shook her head as she gripped the
doorknob, glancing back at the two men disdainfully.
"I don't think so." She smiled coldly. "Find him another bed. I don't have
one free," she informed them with a calm she didn't feel before jerking
the door open and fleeing the room.
She stomped the short distance to her own office, determined to collect
what she needed before heading to the desert. Patrol was mostly boring
as hell, but at least there she had a chance to calm her mind, to think
logically. She really needed to think logically right now.
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As she stepped into her office, without warning, she was pushed against
the wall as the door slammed closed and a distinctive, warning growl
sounded from the chest her face was currently pressed against.
Struggling didn't help. She tried to kick, to bite, to slap, and each move
was countered until she stilled, silent, fighting to ignore an instinctive
burning arousal that began flaming in the hungry depths of her pussy.
Son of a bitch. She wanted him. She stared up at him in realization,
feeling a flush of pure pleasure racing over her flesh as he held her to
him. Had she ever felt this? Ever known such intensity of sensation from
so little?
"Finished now?' Braden's voice was calm, infuriatingly amused but tinged
with dark hunger.
She refused to answer. He moved back enough to stare down at her.
Megan refused to speak. If she did, she might have to do something
stupid. Something irrational. Something guaranteed to get her into
trouble. And…
He had a hard-on.
Her eyes widened in shock as she felt the thick wedge of flesh pressing
against her lower stomach, hot and hard, and if she wasn't mistaken,
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more impressive than the bulge she had glimpsed the day before.
"Let. Me. Go." She forced the words from between her clenched teeth as
her clit screamed in protest. She wanted to rub against him, feel her
nipples raking his chest, and that just made her madder.
"You're not going to win." He held her arms behind her back with one
broad hand, refusing to release her as he arched her closer. The other
hand gripped her braid to pull her head back.
His eyes were dark gold, staring down at her with a latent sensuality that
had her womb spasming and her sex creaming furiously.
Yes, she hated him. She did. She hated him bad.
"Don't bet on it." She narrowed her eyes, staring up at him furiously
even as her body screamed with the pleasure of being so close to him. "I
don't want or need you. And the next time you manhandle me, I'm going
to shoot you."
His lips quirked in amusement.
"You try to shoot me, and I might have to bite you again." Her eyes
widened in shock as his head lowered, his lips settling at her abused ear
lobe to draw it into his mouth and lick it.
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She jerked her head to the side, trying to slam it into his.
Moving back, he chuckled, the sound rough and heated as he stared
down at her once again.
"Keep your damned vampire teeth to yourself," she snapped. "And let
me go or I'm going to scream bloody murder on your ass. This is called
harassment, you know. Sexual harassment."
"Hmm, that's not sexual harassment, baby. When I decide to get sexual,
trust me, you'll know it." He did let her go though. Slowly. Too damned
slowly. "Now sit down and we'll talk this out." The latent warning in his
tone caused her to tense.
"You talk it out." She drew herself up stiffly, staring back at him
indignantly as the urge to scream became almost overwhelming. He had
to be the most infuriating, most stubborn man she had ever met in her
life. "I am going to breakfast. A nice quiet breakfast. Without you. Then I
am going on patrol. Without you. I do not need your help. I do not want
it. Do you understand this?" Damned dimwitted male that he was, he
probably hadn't even heard her.
"We'll see if we can reset your schedule while we're at it. For the
moment, all patrols are out. Lance rescheduled you for today, but I
thought you might like to have some input on the rest of the week."
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Shock shuddered through her. He was ignoring her, but even worse, he
had her schedule reset?
You reset whatever the hell you want to." She snarled, shaking, on the
verge of a violence she had never imagined herself capable of. She
couldn't believe he was running over her like this, or that Lance was
allowing it. This was her life, damnit. She had enough problems dealing
with the curse she fought daily. She did not need this. "I'm finished with
you and my Benedict Arnold of a cousin. Go sleep in his bed, because
none of mine are free."
Before he could stop her, she jerked the door open and stalked down the
hall. Reset her schedule, did he? Canceled her patrol, had he? Screw
him. There was always something to do, even if it meant going home.
She would be damned if she would stand there and put up with his
highhanded attitude. No matter what her body wanted to do.
Chapter Three
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Megan knew she was in trouble. She wasn't stupid; she wasn't being
stubborn just to be stubborn. She was terrified, and that fear wasn't
directed where it should have been. It wasn't the Council or their beasts
of war that terrified her. It was her response to one arrogant, too-sureof
himself Breed.
She wanted him. And it didn't make sense. She had given up on physical
pleasure years ago, preferring to do without rather than suffer the
thoughts and emotions that poured from her partners during sex. The
stress from that alone was enough to pull a woman back from any
orgasm she may be nearing at the time.
Yet her heart was racing, her flesh heated, the soft folds between her
thighs were tender, sensitive, swollen with need. And she was wet. And
not just from the hot water that covered her as she stepped into the
steaming water of her bathtub.
Her ear was tingling, burning. Megan pulled at the offended lobe as she
relaxed in the huge claw-foot tub, fuming over Braden's complete
arrogance.
She hated arrogant men. And she hated how easily her body betrayed
her when Braden was anywhere near. One day. She had known the jerk
one freakin' day, and her body was clamoring for his touch.
Let the bastard just try to move in with her. She would show him exactly
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how fast she could shoot. She would blow his balls to dust.
Steam enveloped her from the hot water, soaking into her flesh to ease
the aches and pains of the numerous bruises that marred her upper
body. Her ribs looked like Christmas decorations, abraded red, deep blue
bruises and a multitude of scratches that burned like hell from
yesterday's battle.
She was pissed off and worried. The worried part was going to keep her
awake for a while, she knew.
"Woof." The soft snuffle of the shepherd/chow mix was a soothing
comfort. It also helped to pull her thoughts away from a certain Lion
Breed and back to the present.
Mo-Jo had refused to allow her to touch him when she first stepped up
on the porch. Again. As though yesterday hadn't been enough. The smell
of the Breed had been an affront to his canine pride. Or something.
He had taken one sniff and growled at her as though she was the enemy
and it was his job to dispose of her. Baring the wicked, sharp, perfectly
white teeth in his mouth, he had made her wonder why she even kept
him around as she snarled back at him. She had earned herself a doggy
sneer as she unlocked the door and he pushed past her. He plopped
down on the air-conditioning vent as she fixed herself snack. Well, fixed
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him a snack that he allowed her to share.
Now he lay at the bathroom door, watching her with that confused doggy
expression as she bitched and raged about Lion Breeds for the last thirty
minutes. He was a good dog when he wanted to be.
"Mo-Jo, go get me a beer." She sighed whimsically as she glanced over
at him, wishing he were a little less temperamental and stubborn. If he
had been, then that school for stubborn pooches might have worked out
for him. He would have known to go get her a cold one instantly.
Instead, he tilted his head and lifted his nose disdainfully, as though she
had asked him to do something distasteful.
She reminded herself not to share the next beer with him.
"Must be an animal thing," she muttered, thinking of Braden's expression
when she had sneeringly referred to him as Puss in Boots the day before.
That brought a smile to her face. Pure male outrage had reflected in his
expression.
Score one for the female deputy; she mentally marked the invisible
scoreboard of life. She deserved that mark after the shock he had
attempted to give her today.
Move in with her? She didn't think so.
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Mo-Jo heaved a sigh when she glanced back at him, his big brown eyes
drowsy as he enjoyed the climate-controlled coolness of the house. The
temperature outside had reached a hundred, and though he survived
just fine in the higher temperatures, he still preferred it inside.
"Are you lying on the vent again, Mo-Jo?" she asked, pretty damned
drowsy herself now as she noticed the position of his body.
He gave her a disinterested growl.
"One of these days, I'm going to trade you in for a poodle." She yawned.
Or a lion. She grunted at the image that suddenly appeared before her
mind's eye. Six-four. He had to be sixfour.
Height was her weakness in a man. Height and those wide, strong
shoulders, and the thick, long golden-brown hair. Broad hands. Boots.
He had worn boots and jeans and a black T-shirt that stretched across
that amazingly broad chest as the material strained around the bulging
biceps of his arms.
Snug jeans had hugged those long powerful legs, cupping an impressive
bulge she had made certain to check out when she aimed the barrel of
her police-issue Wounder at him yesterday. It had been just as
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impressive today.
Not that she would have shot. Not there, anyway. Some things were just
a crime to destroy, and if that bulge was any indication, that was prime
male flesh.
The thought of it made her mouth water and a moan tremble on her lips.
How long had it been since she had actually had sex?
"He was fine, Mo-Jo." She sighed then. "Really fine, And he knew it.
Damned Tomcat."
That one sucked.
Not that she had anything personal against the Breeds. Hell, she had
even campaigned for the Human-Breed rights law when it had come up
the year before. She wasn't prejudiced. Just cautious. That was all.
He was wild and untamed. She could see that in his devil-may-care smile
and in the brilliance of his dark amber eyes. He was an adrenaline
junkie, not the stay-at-home type, or the happily-ever-after kind. He
could, and if she let him, he would break her heart.
But he had let her fight. For once in her life she had been able to join the
action. She had personally battled the bad guys and won.
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The rush of pleasure that suffused her at that thought was nearly sexual.
She had trained for this job most of her life. She had fought for it only to
have her curse rear its ugly head.
Her empathic abilities had shown themselves during her last year of high
school, and had only grown steadily worse.
To the point that working in the field she had dreamed of was now
denied her. she was a hazard to a team. and to herself. The stronger the
emotions of the people around her, the worse they seemed to affect her.
"Maybe I should have gone into day care." She sighed with a grimace
before groaning in resignation. Day care would not have done at all.
She shifted in the water, sighing as the heated liquid caressed her
sensitive body.
"Woof." Her head jerked around as Mo-Jo came quickly to his feet,
turning to the door as he watched it suspiciously.
He might have flunked Politeness at that expensive canine school, but he
had excelled at defensive/protective training. And what he was
displaying now was pure male aggression. His territory was being
invaded.
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The most terrifying part was, she couldn't sense it. As she tried to sense
a presence, all she felt was cold, dead space.
Coyote Breeds. It had to be. She might not be able to sense Braden's
emotions, but she would have recognized his warmth and comfort
reaching out to her. The only time she had felt nothing, not even echoes
of awareness, had been yesterday when she stared into that Coyote
Breed's eyes. She had felt them just before they attacked. The evil and
the malevolence.
Shit. Shit. She didn't need this. She couldn't afford for Braden to be
right. Dammit.
Megan moved silently from the water, grabbing the long, thin silk robe
that hung on the wall and pulling it on quickly. Next came the gun she
had left lying on the back of the commode. The forty caliber Glock 22
handgun was a little heavy in her hand, but comfortable, secure. The
Glock was a bit outdated, but reliable. She liked reliable.
And the clip was full and ready to fire.
Mo-Jo was in stalking position at the door, his body tense with the need
to attack whoever or whatever was invading his self-proclaimed territory.
One thing the canine school had taught him was how to defend Megan
and her home. One of the major reasons she kept the ill-tempered bag
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of fur. That, and the fact that she secretly loved the hell out of him.
Especially now.
Following his body signals, she gripped the doorknob and opened the
door slowly, allowing him to move through the entrance first as she
followed silently. She kept the gun braced at her shoulder, her opposite
hand gripping the wrist that held it as she moved into her bedroom.
Mo-Jo was at the door now, silent, nearly quivering.
She tumed the doorknob carefully, cracking it slowly as Mo-Jo began to
force the opening wider to allow his broad body freedom.
Megan was more cautious. She peeked around the doorframe, lowering
the gun and flipping off the safety as she surveyed the silent hallway. Mo-
Jo stood at the stairs, crouched and ready as he waited on her.
She was moving silently toward him when he suddenly tumed, a look of
canine calculation on his face as he stared back at her. She couldn't hear
anything, not the squeak of a floorboard or a whisper of sound. But she
felt it.
Malice. Evil. Just as it had been at the gully. As though the destructive
energy of the Coyotes drifted on the air itself.
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It wasn't emotions. No fear, hopes or dreams. Just cold, deadly intent
instead of dead space. It wrapped around her, tightening at her throat
and her chest until she was forced to regulate her breathing and stamp
back the fear. They were closer, in her home, moving in for the kill. She
felt it, just as she had felt it in the gully.
She backed up, watching as the dog followed her. If Mo-Jo didn't want to
tackle whatever was downstairs then she would be damned if she was
going to.
She flicked her fingers to the bedroom door, commanding the animal to
follow her. They moved quickly back to the room. Locking the door
silently, she raced to the window, threw it wide and slipped over the
windowsill to the porch roof.
Mo-Jo followed as she closed the window and moved back from it an
instant before gunfire blasted through her bedroom door and the sound
of shattering wood sent Mo-Jo jumping from the porch roof to the thickly
padded sandbox she kept for him.
Megan quickly followed, landing hard and cursing silently at the impact
of the ground on her bruised body.
"I'm going to kill them," she muttered as she came to her feet and raced
to the front of the house, following her furious canine as he ran to the
open front door. There were no vehicles in the drive; the lock had been
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lasered. Whoever was in there knew what the hell they were doing.
She slid into the kitchen as Mo-Jo moved to position himself at the
entrance of the short hallway that led to the staircase. When he moved,
she moved, until they were beneath the stairs, silent and waiting.
"The bitch was here. Water is still hot. She went out the window."
She crouched close to Mo-Jo.
"All I smell is that stinking dog," another voice growled. "People should
learn to bathe their fucking animals."
They were at the top of the stairs. Megan narrowed her eyes, her fingers
clenching Mo-Jo's ruff as she waited.
Yeah, so getting the mutt smell off him wasn't always easy, but he was
about to show these bastards exactly why she
put up with it.
They were coming down. Her fingers tightened. Wait. All she had to do
was wait. Mo-Jo would surprise them and she would take them out.
Simple. Easy.
"Outside." The animalistic growl had the hairs at the nape of her neck
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rising in alarm. "She's on foot. We'll catch her."
They ran down the stairs, nearly silent in their pursuit of her. She
released Mo-Jo's ruff and waited on him to make the first move.
When he did, he went out snarling as they made the landing, while
Megan rolled across the floor, lying flat and firing. She took out the first
intruder with a deadly blow to the chest while Mo-Jo took the other man
down. Rushing to her feet, she raced to the confrontation to kick the
assailant's gun across the floor.
"Jo. Move!" she yelled as she watched the flash of a knife heading for the
dog's exposed belly. She couldn't get a clear shot, but she didn't have to.
She turned her head as wicked, sharp canines tore into the Coyote's
throat no more than a breath before the knife touched vulnerable flesh.
Mo-Jo wasn't a neat animal. Blood splattered around her as he shook the
neck of the assailant viciously before letting it go and jumping
protectively to her.
She went down in a surprised heap, rolling to her stomach and coming
up with her gun aimed at the door. The dog set off a round of snarling.
furious barks as Lance and Braden skidded to a shocked stop at the
doorway.
"Fuck!" Lance stared at the scene, his expression blank as he blinked at
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the sight.
"Where did you come from?'she snapped, blinking back at him in
surprise.
"We drove up as the shots were being fired." Lance shook his head as
Mo-Jo snarled in warning.
"Down, Mo-Jo." Megan pulled herself to her feet, all most groaning in
pain as her body suddenly began to protest the additional abuse. "Down."
The two men stared at the dead bodies at the foot of the stairs. Lance
shook his head in amazement as Braden turned back to stare at her, his
brows lifting in question.
"Hope you have a good cleaning service." Braden drawled as he leaned
against the doorframe. "Blood stains old hardwood like that fast, Megan.
Might want to go ahead and call them."
A sharp burst of laughter escaped her lips, not hysterical but not exactly
calm either as she stared at the mess.
Blood pooled around the bodies, the stench of death nearly
overwhelming in the closed area of the house.
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"Now this just sucks." She felt her knees buckling as she stood up and
moved quickly to the steps. "They're Breeds."
She sat down.
"Coyotes. God darnrnit Megan. We warned you. Didn't we warn you?"
Lance's fury slammed through the air around her, but this time, it didn't
touch her, didn't assault her mind. Instead, that aura of calm stability
reached out from Braden and wrapped around her.
She looked at Braden. He moved slowly from the doorframe, careful to
avoid the blood as he stooped next to the man she had shot and lifted a
lip cautiously.
"Coyote," he agreed.
Braden did likewise to the other before jerking his cell phone from his
belt and pressing a button quickly.
"We have two more. Area Four B, Megan Field's residence. Get your ass
out here."
Megan turned to Lance in numb confusion.
"Are you going to call this in?"
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He stared back at her, his expression livid.
"Hell no!" he snapped. "They can have this one too. We don't need news
of this hitting the streets in town." He wiped his hands over his face
before staring at her worriedly. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she sighed before lifting her eyes to stare at the dog. He was
whimpering at the doorway, having lain down, watching her with
miserable brown eyes. He didn't move.
"Mo-Jo, come here."
He didn't attempt to move, only whined miserably.
"Oh no." She struggled to rise to her feet as Braden turned to the
animal. "Don't touch him, he'll take your face off," she warned the Breed
as he moved to check the animal. "Lance, call Dad. The Coyote had a
knife."
Evidently the assailant had managed to land a blow after all.
"Are you crazy?'Lance stiffened in rejection. "We'll take care of him. If
Uncle David sees this, Megan, he'll jerk you off the force so fast it will
make both our heads spin."
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"You're just afraid he'll hit you," she sniped.
"You keep thinking that." He grunted in frustration.
She shot him a furious look as she jerked the phone from the wall and
knelt beside Mo-Jo. She punched speed dial.
"Meg. Dad and Granddad are on their way. Are you okay?' Her mother's
voice was frantic as Megan inspected the deep slice along Mo-Jo's
underbelly.
Her mother, bless her heart, had always known when her children were
in trouble even if her empathic abilities weren't as strong as her
daughter's.
"Fine, Mom. Jo is just hurt." She rose, jerking a dish towel from the
counter to apply pressure to the wound.
Leaning close to the animal, she cradled his head as the decrease in
adrenaline began to leave her weak. "He'll be fine
until they get here."
"You're sure?" Her mother wasn't fooled. She had been waiting on Meg's
call, proof that her father and grandfather left the house at a dead run.
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Her grandfather would have known something was wrong as well. He
said the winds spoke to him of her. She shook her head at the thought.
Empathy ran on her grandmother's side. She had never been certain
what ran on her grandfather's, but Megan knew it was just as powerful
as the talents she possessed, if not more so.
"I'm sure, Mom. I love you but I have to go now."
She disconnected the phone before staring up at Braden.
He was watching her with concern, and she realized she was definitely
going to be stuck with him. Lance would not let this little event pass
without having a stroke, or at the least without calling the whole damned
family in.
"You know, Braden, we're really not going to get along. As a matter of
fact, I don't even think I'm going to like you."
She turned away from him before he could speak, the sound of a vehicle
pulling up in the drive drawing her attention. She moved to the back
door, breathing a sigh of relief as her father and grandfather moved
quickly from the truck and headed for the house.
"You okay Meg?'Her father hugged her tightly.
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"I'm fine. Mo-Jo is down though. He took a knife to his underbelly." She
was shaking, trying to avoid her father's gaze and the concern that
always made her feel smothered.
Her father was dressed in his customary jeans but wore a dress shirt and
silver string tie, indicating he had been preparing to go out for the
evening. His thick black hair was peppered with gray, his black eyes hard
and probing as he moved through the kitchen to the hall entrance and
glanced over at Lance.
"It looks pretty deep, Dad,'' she sighed, staring at her grandfather in
resignation as she let him help her up and lead her to a kitchen chair.
"Uncle Dave, meet Braden Arness," she heard Lance mutter from the hall.
She was aware of Braden watching her, his head tilted, taking in every
movement, every expression, as he watched the scene before him. But
even more, that calm that was so much a part of him weaved around her
as well, sheltering her. A girl could get used to that. Too used to it. It
would be a bitch when it was gone again.
His eyes were questioning, almost confused, as her grandfather, stooped
with age and shuffling from his stiff joints, patted her on the shoulder.
"You sit still, little warrior. I'll fix you tea." His voice was filled with
concern, his weathered expression lined with worry.
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"Coffee."
"Tea," her father and grandfather spoke firmly.
She grimaced. The tea wouldn't even be caffeinated.
Despite their calm, she sensed the fear. She didn't feel it, thankfully. But
she sensed it thickening the air around her.
"What happened here, Lance?" Her father was bent over Mo-Jo, a small,
black medical bag at his side as he checked the wound.
"Why are you asking him? He wasn't here." She hated the protective
coddling she could feel beginning to wrap around her. Why hadn't they
just brought her mother along with them? That would have finished up
the wool wrapping nicely.
Her father glanced back at her, and for a second she glimpsed a fury and
fear that she knew shouldn't have shocked her. Yet it did, because she
only sensed it, she didn't feel it. It wasn't washing over her in blinding
waves or taking her breath. She also noticed Braden had moved closer to
her, making it easier for her to pull that shield around her.
"Because I'm tending a wound to your animal that could have been
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inflicted on you." He didn't snap at her, but she could feel the anger
vibrating from him. "I don't know if my nerves can stand hearing a
report from you, Daughter."
Her shoulders drooped. How did you battle that kind of love, dammit?
"I don't know what happened, Uncle," Lance finally answered. "I was
bringing Braden Arness here to talk to her. We walked in as Mo-Jo was
ripping out a throat."
"And what of yesterday?'her grandfather asked then. "The winds blew
through the land with a warning, her name echoing on the breeze."
Megan wanted to groan. "You guys are smothering me."
Braden leaned against the wall, watching it all, never speaking. Sexy and
silent. Okay, so he had a few things going for him.
"Get used to it." Her father's voice brooked no refusal. "Until I leave this
world, you are still my daughter and still under my protection."
"Protect Lance." She waved her hand at her smirking cousin. "He's in
more danger than I am if he keeps pissing me off. Share the love, Dad."
Her father only snorted as he applied a thick coating of skin repair to Mo-
Jo's underbelly.
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"The dog will be fine." He closed the bottle of fleshsimulating latex and
returned it to his bag. "The wound wasn't too deep; he's just a big
baby." He patted the dog's head before filling a syringe and injecting it
into the thick shoulder muscle. "There, something to ease the soreness.
He'll be good as new in a few days. We'll take him back to the clinic and
put him on some antibiotics to be certain."
At the same time, her grandfather set tea and ginger cookies in front of
her. She could still smell death all around her. There was no way she
was eating.
"Your blood sugar is low, Granddaughter. Eat as well." He shuffled
around the table and, of course, put on coffee for everyone else.
Sometimes, she wished she smoked. If any situation called for a
cigarette, it was this one.
"Explanation time." Her father stood up, his broad body tense, his
roughly hewn face matching the anger in his eyes as they met with
Braden's gaze. "Who the hell are you and what do you have to do with
this?"
Braden stiffened.
"Enough, David," her grandfather came to the rescue. She hoped.
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"Come, all of you, sit down at Megan's table and speak with respect in
her presence. She has defended herself well today. She has done what
no man could have done for her, and satisfied her warrior's soul in her
own protection. It is time to celebrate, not to berate her or those who
defend her."
Her grandfather's pride in her never failed to fill her with warmth.
Her father flashed him a disgruntled look.
"David_ husband of my daughter." He sighed. "I feel your worry as it is
my own. But I have warned you, her destiny is not as you would have it."
Argument time. Megan knew if she didn't change the subject quickly
then her father and grandfather would end up fighting again.
"Someone has to clean up the mess," she sighed, pushing away the
cookies and tea. "Has everyone forgotten the two bodies in my hallway?"
she asked them all with an edge of incredulity. "They are staining my
hardwood floors. Ask him, he knows all about it." She waved to where
Braden still stood silently, watchfully.
Too many men were crowding around her. She was wearing nothing but
a robe and reaction was starting to tremble through her as all the
testosterone began to brew in a furious cauldron. She did not want to be
here for the fight.
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"My people are headed back in." Braden moved into the kitchen and
before she could gasp or anyone else could protest he lifted her into his
arms and strode from the room.
God, he was warm, secure. Her arms gripped his shoulders in instinctive
response as she fought the need to get closer, to absorb more of the
natural shield that enveloped her as well.
"I'm not a baby," she tried to snipe despite the sudden desire to curl
against him.
"No, you're not. But the floor is bloody and you aren't wearing shoes."
He set her down on the stairs. "Sometimes you see the bloodstains when
you least expect it." He stared back at her, his golden eyes solemn. "Go.
Dress. My people will be here and there will be a clash of tempers that
you don't want to deal with half naked." His voice lowered.
"And I sure as hell don't want anyone else seeing those perfect nipples
shining through that damp cloth as they are now."
Her face flamed as her horrified gaze went down. Her nipples were hard.
Spike-hard, pressing against the silk of her robe like signals.
Her head raised as arousal and embarrassment coursed through her. It
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wasn't him, she assured herself. He was not turning her on. She didn't
even know him and she didn't want to know him.
She sniffed disdainfully, refusing to even attempt to explain or protest
her body's response.
*********
Braden watched her stalk to her room, his chest tight, his heart racing.
God, he wanted to wrap her up just as much as the three men behind
him did. Seeing her in that chair, looking so forlorn, had nearly been
more than he could stand. He had picked her up and moved her to the
stairs for his own mental well-being. The thought of her having to step
around the death in that hallway, that it could have been her lying there
rather than two Coyotes had his guts clenching in fury.
He hadn't realized how small she was, how light, until he picked her up
in his arms and felt the frailty of her body.
How the hell had she managed to battle two Coyotes and survive?
Dark midnight-blue eyes, nearly black, had seemed overlarge in her pale
face, filled with excitement and an edge of confusion. But there was no
fear. She was pissed. Quickly falling from an adrenaline high and aching
with the demands she had put on her body in the past two days.
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But she wasn't scared.
And he couldn't wrap her up. He couldn't shelter her from the danger. He
could only stand behind her and pray he could help her. The world wasn't
a playground filled with laughter and games. At least, his world wasn't. It
was bathed in blood and cruelty and only the strongest survived. She
was being thrown into the middle of his world for some reason he
couldn't fathom. He couldn't protect her from that. He could only guide
her through it.
"She's a warrior." The old man, her grandfather, spoke behind him.
"She's a woman," the father snapped furiously. "Darnmit, Lance, what
the hell is going on?"
"She's crazy, is what's going on," Lance argued. "She drove right into a
murder scene yesterday afternoon with me screaming at her to back off.
The woman is looking for trouble. This time, it found her."
"She searches for justice_" Joseph murmured.
And they were all searching for a way to protect her. Their need to
shelter her was slowly smothering her. Braden could feel it, could see it
in her face. She needed to fight, and now she had no choice but to do
just that.
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"No." He turned to face them all. "She's a fighter and a survivor and if
she's going to suivive this in any way, then you'll have to let her fight.
Until we find out why the Genetics Council marked her, we have to let
her fight, or you'll all lose her."
Silence, waves of fury, confusion and one old man's knowledge seemed
to flow around him. He met the sharp, ages-old gaze of the old Navajo
who stared back at him, his graying braids framing his square, stark
expression.
"She is a warrior," the old man said, raising his head in pride. "But
beware, my young Lion, she is also a woman. And that is most often
every male's greatest weakness. Even your own."
How the old man knew who and what he was, Braden didn't know and he
didn't care. Now, as earlier, confusion swamped him. The Breeds, except
for a very select few, had no children. No mothers, no fathers, uncles or
cousins.
They were created in a Lab, trained rather than raised, and now fought
daily for survival in a world that wasn't certain exactly what to do with
this new species.
Braden had never experienced the emotion, the sheer protective fury
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and determination to protect one's family.
He could easily see the three men slowly smothering the woman's
fighting spirit with their love.
"You'd better come up with a plan before she gets back down here."
Lance hissed as he stared at his uncle and grandfather. "I'm not firing
her. She'll never forgive me. Besides, she just ignores me when I try."
"I told you to do that three months ago," David, the father, snarled
furiously. "The very day he"-he jerked his
thumb at the old man-"heard her name on the winds. "But no, wait,
Uncle_" he mocked the younger man.
"Don't hurt her. She'll leave Broken Butte.' "
"Or shoot me," Lance snapped. "Dammit, Uncle, she's had three offers
from the larger cities but she stays here instead. Push her too far and
she'll leave."
"I won't allow it."
"You cannot stop it, my son_" the old man said.
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"Bloody hell, she's going to find trouble no matter where she goes_"
Lance argued.
Braden cocked his head, watching as the three argued. How interesting.
Personally, he thought it was a bit delayed and definitely the wrong time
for accusations, but interesting all the same.
The three males were obviously well used to arguing over how best to
protect a woman who wanted nothing more than to be who she was, to
fight as she was needed. It defied logic. Women were as fierce and often
less merciful than any man. They were excellent fighters when they
cared for the battle they were engaged in or for those they fought for.
And Megan was all woman. In that moment, he decided, she was also his
woman.
Chapter Four
Megan was in no better mood the next morning than she had been the
night before when Braden and Lance dragged their sorry butts into her
guest rooms to sleep. The dead bodies had been cleared out of her
house by ill-tempered Feline Breeds, one of which was a scary, silver-
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eyed son of Satan she was really glad didn't stick around long.
Her father and grandfather had finally left around midnight, under
protest. Braden and Lance had stayed, which meant sleep had been next
to impossible knowing that the object of her arousal was so close. She
had ached for his touch, her skin so sensitive that even the sheets were
an irritation against it.
Now, with the breakfast dishes cleared away and coffee sustaining her,
Megan stared at Lance and Braden. Fighting this wasn't going to work,
and she knew it. As much as she hated it, she needed Braden in this
fight.
She glanced over at him, aware that he was watching her closely, his
gaze hooded, his body tense. Was he aroused as well? Was he
tormented by the same desire she was? One as confusing as it was
strong?
She gave herself a mental shake before confronting both men.
"Now what?" She leaned against the counter and sipped at her coffee as
they stared back at her.
Lance got to his feet with a sigh. "I have to get back to the office." The
coward. He wasn't even going to hang around for whatever fireworks he
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expected to result from their discussion. "You're off today. I'll see both of
you in the office in the morning_"
"No. She's off indefinitely." Braden spoke as though his word were law.
Her eyes narrowed at the tone, her lips flattening in irritation as she
glared back at him.
"That is my job," she snapped. "I can't just lie around_"
"Your job is to stay alive." He walked over to the coffeepot to refill his
cup. Megan made certain she moved far enough away to keep from so
much as brushing against him. "We'll get organized and see if we can
figure out what the hell is going on. You're the link_" The look he gave
her when he turned back was hard, cold. "That means you have the
answers."
Which made sense. But that didn't mean she had to like it.
She glanced at Lance then, noting the tension in his muscular body, the
merciless anger that glittered in his blue eyes. Damn, she was glad she
wasn't feeling that. She couldn't have handled it. It destroyed her, the
fear and worry that filled her family because of the job she had fought
for so desperately and the weakness the empathy caused within her.
"Well." She breathed out roughly, containing the shiver that worked up
her spine. "So much for our complaints that Broken Butte is too quiet."
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Lance snorted at that.
"Those are your complaints, Meg. Not mine. I had enough excitement
when I worked in Chicago," he snapped.
He was angry. Really angry this time. She stared at his closed
expression, the haunted pain in his eyes, and felt her chest tighten.
"I'm sorry." She stared back at him directly, hating the fact that he was
worried enough about her to be so furious.
"Darnmit, Meg, I don't blame you." He reached out, his arm looping
around her shoulders as he pulled her close for a brief, hard embrace.
"Check in on schedule," he told her roughly then. "And watch your butt."
She hugged him back. Hard. Then watched as he left the house. For
some unexplained and upsetting reason, his touch rattled her. As though
her body was faintly protesting, uncomfortable with the once comforting
embrace of the cousin who was more like a big brother.
She listened until the sound of his Raider faded into the distance, leaving
a deafening, tension-filled silence between her and the Feline watching
her closely. She turned to look at him, seeing the curious gleam in his
eyes, the quizzical look on his face.
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"What?'she asked with mock impatience, controlling her breathing,
mainly to control the abrasion of her sensitive nipples against her lace
bra. What the hell was wrong with her? She had never been aroused by
so little in her life.
He inhaled slowly. What the hell was he sniffing for?
"Nothing." He finally shook his head slowly. "Get ready. I want to make a
trip back out to the gully to look around and I want you to stick close.
From now on, baby, just call me your shadow."
"Puss in Boots." She glanced at the boots. The man had some fine legs in
between, too.
Tension filled the air. It wasn't angry tension; it was hot, blistering in
intensity. He set his coffee cup on the counter, moving closer, his
shoulder brushing against hers as he passed her, moved behind her.
Megan stood completely still, feeling the displacement of the air around
her, the way he moved, turning until his chest nearly touched her back,
his breath wafting over her sensitive earlobe.
"You know, Meg," he breathed out softly, his voice rough, growling,
"you'll call me that one time too many, and then I'll have to show you
which of us belongs on top. And it isn't you, sweetheart. I'd be careful
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pushing me, if I were you. The scent of that sweet, hot little pussy has
my mouth watering and my cock pounding. I might show you not just
who belongs on top, but exactly how a Breed teaches dominance to his
woman."
She felt herself pale then flush, her eyes widening at the realization that
he could actually smell her arousal. That he knew she was wet, hot.
Ready to take him. That he fascinated her more than any man ever had.
It was a fascination that scared her to death.
"Get your vaccinations first,'' she snapped, moving away from him,
covering her embarrassment with snide anger rather than dissolving in
his arms the way she wanted to. She would be damned if she would. Just
what the hell she needed—the hots for a Breed, and he hadn't even
kissed her yet. Could life get more complicated, please?
"Megan, the snide Breed remarks don't become you," he finally chastised
her as she moved to place more distance between them. He only
followed her. Stalking her. "If you want to insult me baby, then keep it
personal.''
He was right, her insults weren't fair. Megan turned her back on him,
forcing herself to breathe, to find just a moment of stability amid the
conflicting needs surging through her. She wanted him so badly the ache
was a pit of fiery longing in her womb. She had forced herself to keep
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distance between her emotions and the men that existed in the
periphery of her life. But she wasn't maintaining distance with Braden.
The irresistible draw he was becoming made her angrier at herself than
at him.
She turned to face him again, her eyes widening as he came flush with
her body, trapping her against the counter, his thighs pressing against
hers, his erection cushioning itself in the soft warmth of her abdomen.
Her womb clenched, spasming with a sexual hunger that nearly took her
breath.
"Don't." She pressed her hands against his chest, shaking her head,
certain that if he touched her she wouldn't be able to fight.
"Sweet." He inhaled deeply, bracing his hands on the counter, his arms
holding her in place as her hands flattened against his chest. "You're hot
and wild, Megan. I could make you hotter. Wanna try me?"
She shuddered as his head lowered, his lips catching the sensitive lobe of
her ear, licking it with a slow, seductive move of his tongue. A hard
shudder raced up her spine as heat began to envelop her.
Her clit swelled in a resounding yes to his question; her breasts grew
heavier, her nipples harder.
A shiver streaked up her spine, then back down again before a tremor of
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need sliced through her sex. She knew she couldn't hide it. As his head
raised, his gaze meeting hers, she knew the hunger filling her was
reflected in her eyes. It wasn't just a need for sex. It was a need for
everything. To curl in his arms, to rub against him, to find a place to
rest. And she knew the illusion that she could do just that couldn't be
real.
He inhaled deep, his eyes darkening as sensuality suddenly darkened his
expression. "Get ready to ride,'' he growled rather than touching her
further as she expected. "We either get this show on the road or we
head to the bedroom. Your choice. Otherwise, you're going to find out
exactly how a Breed fucks the fight out of tempting little wildcats like
yourself. Now get moving. One way or the other.''
He kept trying to remind himself that he wasn't like her. Not really
human. Not the right man to start an affair with a woman who had no
idea what she was getting into with him, sexually speaking.
His lips quirked at the thought. Her snappish little comments against his
Breed birth hadn't bothered him. He saw more than he was certain she
wanted him to. The clash of emotions inside her was clearly felt, as was
the arousal, hot enough, deep enough to bum a man to his soul. And it
frightened her.
He drove across the desert, the gentle rocking motion of the Raider
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making the silence inside the vehicle seem all that much deeper. It was
hard to forget what he was, who he was, when the heat of her arousal
scented the cool interior of the closed vehicle.
He was a Breed. The bastard of the human and animal species. His
genetics were a mismatched collage of human and lion DNA that made
him stronger, faster, more predatory, more vicious than any human
should be. He was identified by the genetic marker of a lion's paw on the
inside of his left thigh, and by the longer, sharper canines at the sides of
his mouth. Not that those were the only anomalies, but they were the
most apparent.
His sexuality was hard, driven. If there was anything better than sex and
a wild, hot woman, then he hadn't found it.
It was better than a good bloody fight, and he loved those, too.
Adrenaline was the spice of life, be it sexual or lifethreatening. But he
had never taken a woman who wasn't a Breed. And he had never taken
one as fragile as the woman sitting beside him. The one burning, slick
and wet and ready for him.
From the comer of his eye he watched her rub at the earlobe he had
nipped the other day. He had broken the skin. The small curve was
abraded, though it didn't look as though it should cause her any
problems. But she kept rubbing and tugging at it as though it bothered
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her.
"I didn't bite you that hard," he grumbled as she continued to toy with it.
"You're not making me feel guilty for it."
"Think what you want to." She glared back at him. "It's still sensitive."
He flashed her a lazy smile. "That little nip was nothing. You need to
toughen up, sweetheart."
It was nothing compared to what he had ached to do to her earlier. As
his tongue had licked over the little abrasion on her lobe, he had longed
to move to her shoulder, to taste the sweet flesh there, to rake his teeth
over it, to mark her in a way no other man could ever mistake.
That need surprised him. He had never known a desire to mark a
woman. This woman he wanted to mark in all ways, so that no other
male could ever mistake to whom she belonged.
"You need to refrain from biting," she parried with an edge of nervous
arousal. Oh yeah, she felt it too. The need was burning inside her just as
hot, just as fierce as it was burning in him. He could feel it, could smell it.
He shifted in his seat to relieve the pressure against his swollen cock.
The scent of her arousal was driving him crazy. He wanted nothing more
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than to hold her beneath him, his teeth gripping her sensitive shoulder
as he worked his engorged cock as deep inside the melting depths of her
pussy as he could go. And she was melting. So hot, so wild that her
frustration was making her angry. Making him impatient.
"I'll see what I can do about that," he grunted as he turned and made
his way down the inclined entrance into the gully. The same path Megan
had taken the day before.
"You stopped here before coming into the gully the other day," he
remarked, determined to do the job he had been sent to do before he
did the woman. "Why?'
He watched her as she stared into the entrance to the deep gully, her
gaze reflective. He could feel the subtle tug of her ability to pull his
natural shield around her. It was·ntimate. As it enfolded her, shallow
though the protection was, it bonded him to her, made his spirit a part of
hers.
"Someone followed the jeep down on foot, wearing hiking boots. The
tracks were fresher than the tire tracks. Did you see who it was?" she
asked then, peering from the side window as she pushed the dark
shades above her eyes to see the ground clearly.
He shook off the knowledge of the deepening bond, relaxed his guards
against her and allowed her to pull the shield further around herself.
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"That was me." He eased the Raider into the wide gully before coming to
a stop. "I found the jeep about six hours before you came through. I
made it to about here, smelled the stink of the Coyotes around the
bend." He pointed to a fissure at the other side of the gully. "I noticed
this area is riddled with fissures and caverns. They're like a maze inside,
many of them connecting together. I was able to slip through those to
work my way closer to the cavern they were hidden within."
Megan nodded. "We had a particularly hard rainy season about ten years
ago. The gullies stayed flooded and many of them washed out deep
grooves into the stone. This is one of about a dozen of the hardest hit
areas. The floods in these washouts would come hard and fast, many
revealing small caves that go deep beneath them and now collect water
when it does rain."
"I worked my way through those washouts until I found a way to get
around them," Braden continued. "I wasn't far from you when I heard
you call in to Lance. They were waiting on you."
"But why me?" That was the one she didn't understand.
As he started the vehicle forward again, she lowered the window, staring
up at the steadily rising walls that grew steeper as they moved deeper
into the gully.
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He didn't answer her. There was no way to answer her until they found
out the reason for the Coyotes' arrival.
He drove around the steep bend, pulling to a stop behind the black SUV
Mark and Aimee had driven.
He watched as she glanced around the area, her eyes narrowed, almost
distant as she seemed to listen to something he couldn't hear. Finally,
she gripped the handle of the door and stepped out of the vehicle as he
set the security controls and followed her.
He continued to watch her. Leaning against the front of the Raider,
testing the wind every few seconds for the rancid scent of Coyotes as
she stared at the SUV, her expression solemn, intense.
"They looked so young." Sadness washed over her, regret for the lives
wasted before they could be lived.
"Aimee was twenty-three. Mark was twenty-four,'' he told her. "Neither
had been out of captivity long enough to know freedom."
She moved to the open doors of the SUV. The smell of death was thick,
the blood-soaked interior boiling with heat beneath the afternoon sun.
She didn't throw up as he would have expected her to. Her expression
tightened as she leaned in and bent forward, checking beneath the
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driver's seat, then in the console beside it.
She flinched every few minutes as though she were in pain. Or feeling
that of another.
"Did your people have time to go over it?" she asked him then.
"Thoroughly." There was nothing to be found. A few fast-food bags,
gasoline receipts. No notes, no letters, nothing to indicate why they had
left or why they had died.
"So why are we here?' She moved back, turning to face him with a frown
on her face.
"Because those Coyotes waited here for almost twenty-four hours for you
to arrive. We checked the SUV. This canyon is another story. We're going
to go over it, inch by inch. Every tributary leading into the rock wall,
every cavern. We're going to go over it. Because the Coyotes that are
dumb enough to stay with the Council are the ones too stupid to cover
their tracks well. They've left something here. They were here for too
long not to. Now it's up to us to find what they left and to figure out why
they want you. And they do want you, baby. Real bad."
Fear flashed in her eyes but only for a second. It was followed closely by
anger, then determination.
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"They can want on then." A cool little smile curved her lips. Calculating,
filled with cold purpose. "So where do we start?"
Chapter Five
They started with a perilous climb from the bottom of the gorge to the
uppermost section of the cliff that rose above it. More than ten feet from
the ground, handholds were few and far between; and though a fall
wouldn't lull her, it would sure as hell hurt.
Their destination was the grouping of small, narrow openings into the
cliff houses above. Weathered by sand and rain, the openings created
dark, shadowed crevices with a narrow ledge running between them.
In the heat of the day, the climb sapped her energy as perspiration
poured from her even before they reached the first set of small caves.
Megan had been amazed that the large, brawny Coyotes could have
existed for more than a few hours inside them, until she flattened herself
against the stone floor and scooted in.
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"The cave is much larger inside," she called back as she flipped on the
flashlight she carried before moving further inside. The risk of rattlers
was high in the area, not to mention a dozen other poisonous denizens
of the desert. The caves were cool in the heat of the day, and warmer in
the cold of night-the perfect hidden shelter for wildlife.
There was nothing to be found but a lingering, subtly noxious smell. Her
senses detected no danger, no presence of life. Only the cold, evil intent
that had filled the Coyotes.
"Those boys stink," she muttered as she pushed herself farther into the
cave and made room for Braden's larger body.
"Yes, they do at that." Unfortunately, the distracting scent of the
remnants of the Coyote Breeds' body odor was instantly overshadowed
by the smell of manly heat that tempted the senses and made her
erogenous zones wake up and howl. She clenched her thighs, feeling the
wet proof of her attraction to him dampening the outer curves of her
cunt.
And he wasn't exactly uninterested. She flushed as his gaze touched her;
the heavy-lidded, sensual awareness moving over his expression was
less than comforting.
Rather than staring at the hard body moving across from her, she moved
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the light over the cave walls. The cave extended well back into the ridge,
easily ten feet wide and perhaps twelve long, with several wide fissures
opening into the wall and leading further back into the cliff.
"I had no idea the cliff houses were this large," she murmured, directing
the beam of light to the widest fissure. It looked like a doorway opening
into stone.
"That fissure leads to another inner cavern at the base of the cliff. I
tracked them that far before I found the tunnel that led to the one they
had trapped you inside. I don't believe they had explored far though; the
tunnels are like a maze as you get deeper into the ridge."
She glanced at him as he spoke, watching the confidence in the way he
began to move about the cliff house.
"So what are we looking for? " She rose to her feet, the ceiling barely
high enough to allow her to straighten.
Braden's shoulders were stooped, his head lowered as he glanced back
at her.
"Jonas and his men didn't have time to go through the two upper
caverns fully," he said. "I just want to be certain nothing was missed."
"How did you manage to keep from getting lost in the tunnels?" The
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thought of an inner maze within the stone was daunting, and she didn't
care to attempt to search one.
"A good sense of direction." Amusement laced his voice. "Don't worry;
the tunnels shouldn't pose a problem. They wouldn't have left their
vantage point to search them. They were waiting on you, and knew you
weren't likely to use them."
She inhaled roughly before moving to the opposite wall and shining the
light closely on it. She didn't want to think about the Coyotes waiting on
her, watching for her.
"These haven't been here long." She ran her fingers over the stone,
marveling at the forces that had created them. "The storms that washed
out this gully were horrible. Before it was nothing more than a small
chasm. Now it's almost a secret stone wonderland. I'll have to let the
cavers' association know about these tunnels so they can explore and
map them."
It was imperative to get the proper GPS trackers within the tunnels and
caves in case the unwary became lost within them.
"And another of nature's secrets becomes unraveled," Braden murmured.
"But lives are saved." She shrugged at the faint condemnation.
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"Especially the children who lose their way so easily."
How many times had she done exactly that as a child? Too many to
count. Her father, even now, told the hairraising stories of attempting to
find her during the times she had disappeared into a cave or an unknown
part of the desert.
"Some secrets were meant to stay hidden." His voice was tight now,
tense with a deep-seated anger as he investigated one of the ledges on
the other side of the cave.
She assumed he meant the secrets the scientists had unraveled in
creating the Breeds. From the news stories she had watched, she knew
the controversy over Breed Rights was fueled by the Purists' beliefs that
their animal DNA
disqualified them from the description of human. As though the human
DNA had no significant value. It was insanity, the racism and prejudice
that was growing against the Breeds. And though she could hear his
anger, feel it distantly, it wasn't beating at her head, raw and painful. It
was just there naturally. Allowing her to breathe and to function. The
anomaly was comforting - confusing, but comforting.
"Nature does what she believes is right." She leaned against the rock
wall, staring at his broad back curiously.
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"Do you think you would be here if you weren't considered a worthy life,
Braden?' She tilted her head as he turned back to face her slowly.
His eyes were narrowed in the dim light that filled the cave, his
expression pensive.
"I wouldn't fight for it daily if I didn't consider it worthy," he assured her,
his lips quirking into a mocking smile before he turned back to whatever
he had been investigating. "I just believe some things were not meant to
be tampered with, Creation being but one of them."
He was accepting of who he was, of what he was. But she heard the
regret in his voice as well. Perhaps it was the world in general that
disappointed him. As it did her.
She cleared her throat, nervous. "Sometimes tampering creates
something beautiful," she finally whispered, staring back at him, licking
her lips as his gaze flickered with surprise.
"Back to work," she muttered, turning away from him before she let her
wayward emotions get her into trouble.
Hadn't she learned better more than once?
Shaking her head, she turned back to the job at hand, shining the light
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deep into the opening that led farther into the land. The light beam
caught on a piece of folded paper, tucked beneath the outcropping of a
rock. Moving into the tunnel, she bent and pulled it free before aiming
the light on it. The computer-printed schedule was damning.
Fields, Megan. Patrol Schedule. Her fingers rubbed over the paper as
hatred poured from it. Personal hatred. This wasn't the impersonal evil of
the Coyote Breeds. It was closer. Familiar. She knew the feeling, the
psychic imprint left by all creatures once they touched something. She
bit her lip, frowning down at the paper as she continued to rub her
fingers over it. The emotion was faint, but vicious. Whoever had printed
out this schedule had known what awaited her. Known and enjoyed the
feeling of power that came from the knowledge.
"What is it?'
Megan jumped in startled awareness as she heard , Braden's voice at her
ear, only then realizing how easily he had slipped up on her.
"This is from the computers at the sheriff's office." She frowned down at
the locator numbers at the top of the printout. "The printer automatically
sets the locator numbers to display the location of the office printing it ."
"Are they printed out often?" Braden reached out, lifting the paper from
her hand as she turned to face him.
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Megan shrugged. "Not that often. I get a copy and Lance has his copy.
Unless someone prints out more. But you need the password to get into
the system."
"It's still not a foolproof system." He shook his head slowly, staring down
at the paper a moment longer before refolding it and txcking it into his
pocket. ''I'll send it to the labs and see if they can pick up any prints
from it. Though I doubt any but those of the Coyote who carried it show
up after all this time."
"From what I've heard of the Council, they don't go after high-profile or
well-guarded women," she said then, remembering the reports she had
watched over the years. "They kidnap runaways. or women who are
destitute, with no family. And they don't just mark one for death. Why
change their routine now?"
She wasn't stupid. There had to be something more that they were after.
"You're right." He reached up, pushing back the fringes of hair that fell
over her face, his golden eyes narrowing as she stared back at him.
"There is something more they want. Unfortunately, I have no idea what
it is. Until I learn, we'll fight together. No going off alone. Megan. Trust
me to let you fight and to live."
Her lips parted at his statement while her heart began to race at his
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nearness. She should be excited about the opportunity to fight, not
about the chance to be a part of this man's life.
His lips quirked, a soft smile softening the features of his face. "You're
surprised?"
"A bit," she admitted, aware that his hand now cupped the side of her
neck, his thumb smoothing over the tender flesh just beneath her ear.
The intimacy that wrapped around them seemed to invade every cell of
her body.
"Why?" He tilted his head.
She shrugged, uncertain within the morass of arousal and emotions she
could feel building within her. Braden, as maddening as he could be,
drew her to him in ways she found impossible to fight. She wanted his
arms around her, wanted his touch and his kiss; but even more, she
wanted the man.
"Why have you stayed here?' he asked her then. "I see the wildness in
your eyes, Megan, the need to run free, to fight and to dance within the
flames of life. You let Lance give you a Wounder rather than a weapon,
and allow yourself to be smothered in this corner you exist within. Why?"
A frown snapped between her brows as the shame of her failure to fight
and control her Empathy filled her once again. "This is my home," She
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tried to shake off his touch.
"This isn't your life." He spoke the words that she shied away from daily.
"This isn't your business." She stepped away from him, ignoring the
instant chill to her body as she lost his warmth.
"This is a lot of my business," he assured her, still blocking the exit of
the tunnel. "I see a very strong woman. One with enough fire to warm
the coldest nights or to fight the bloodiest battle. Yet you're here,
sedated, bored out of your mind."
His voice was gentle, comforting, and yet at the same time the dark, rich
baritone had her blood pressure rising to a heated pitch of arousal. She
would have been amused if it didn't scare her silly. She could love this
man, even knowing he couldn't stay.
"Bored?" She arched her brow mockingly. "Now, Braden, how could you
consider this little comer of the desert boring? Surely you aren't ready to
head back to battle so soon?"
He was hitting too close to the mark, bringing to the surface too many
things that had been tormenting her with each passing year.
''I found a battle here," he responded softly. Crowding her closer to the
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stone wall at the side of the tunnel. "Now I just have to figure out why
there's a battle to begin with. Why would a beautiful, seemingly normal
young woman suddenly be targeted for death by a Council that shouldn't
give a fuck about her one way or the other. What did you do, Megan?
What have you seen'!"
She inhaled roughly, staring back at him with a remnant of fear as he
asked that question. What had she done? What had she seen? Why had
she run back to the safety of her home, her family, and hid within the
desert she so loved, when she really wanted nothing more than to live
the life she knew she had been destined to live?
Because she was scared. She had learned in the crowded setting of the
Law Enforcement Academy that —working within a team, dealing with
the various emotions, dark, often agonizing emotions, fractured her
attention to the point where concentration was impossible.
She had passed the courses with honors. But when it came to training
maneuvers, she had often endangered the team as well as herself. And
yet that had nothing to do with the Council.
"I haven't done anything, or seen anything that the Council would be
interested in." Her fists clenched at her sides as she assured him just
how wrong he was. "I'm here because it is home. I want to make a
difference here."
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"There's no battle here." His eyes were deceptively gentle: she could see
the cool. calm calculation that rested beneath the purity of the amber
color. "There is no fire here, Megan." He moved closer, his body brushing
against hers until she retreated against the cool wall behind her. "There
is no excitement, nothing to stimulate your very agile mind and body.
You hunger for justice. For adventure and excitement. You hunger and
yet you steer clear of the banquet waiting beyond your own borders.
Why?"
"Maybe I'm scared?" She arched her brow mockingly as she felt her
mouth go dry with nervousness. He was too close, too intent on learning
secrets that she revealed to no one. "Broken Butte is safe—"
The rumbled growl of warning that sounded from his chest stopped her
words as nothing else could have.
"Have I ever mentioned that lies have a scent?" he asked her, his voice
soft as he pressed closer. "Such a shame to mar the smell of sweet,
aroused female with the rancid tint of a lie. Don't piss me off, Megan."
He flashed those incisors as though she should be frightened of them.
She wasn't frightened of his bite; it was his touch that threw her off
guard, that destroyed her equilibrium. That was what she feared. And it
made her angry at herself and at him.
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"Don't piss you off?" She pushed against his chest as she wiggled past
him, stomping to the main cave as he followed her slowly. "No, Braden."
She turned on him warningly, pointing her finger at him imperiously.
"Don't piss me off, and don't poke your nose where it doesn't belong.
Concern yourself with the problem at hand and leave me the hell alone."
Now she remembered why she didn't want a damned Feline Breed on her
heels every damned minute of the day.
Arrogance was as much a part of them as the steel-hard muscles and
exceptional, savage beauty.
And let's not forget the strength. Before she could do more than gasp he
had gripped her upper arm, turning her and pushing her against the wall
again, his larger body holding her in place as his erection pressed
against her lower stomach.
Arousal swamped her. It ripped through her; not just her senses, but
every cell of her body seemed to open up, begging, pleading for his
touch.
Damn, she didn't need that. She could feel her womb clenching. And he
didn't miss a second of it.
His nostrils flared, his eyes darkening as he held her wrists in one hand,
high above her head.
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"Do you mind?" She struggled against his grip.
"I don't mind a bit," he murmured, lowering his head to her already
abused ear as his teeth raked over it.
Okay, she was screwed, and not in a good way.
She shuddered at the caress. That just felt way too good. Good enough
that she couldn't still the hard exhalation of breath that nearly turned
into a whimper of greedy need. Talk about a banquet. A smorgasbord of
hard, tight male flesh. And if the erection pressing into her stomach was
any indication, he was built like a damned tank and loaded.
Her hands strained against his grip as she arched against him, knowing
she should be struggling to be free of the sensations that flooded her at
his touch. But she wasn't. She was straining closer to the power, the
heat of him, needing more. She forced back the need, panting for air as
the blood raced through her body.
"Why are you doing this?" She tried to shake her head, but her eyelids
only fluttered in pleasure as he drew her earlobe between his lips and
caressed it.
"Be still." He growled, pressing his cock tighter against her belly.
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"You're not being fair," she protested, her nails biting into his shoulders
as she fought the attraction pulling her to him. She couldn't afford to let
herself feel this, to need this. "You know this can't go anywhere."
"Who said I'm trying to go anywhere?' Amusement and pure male lust
thickened his voice. "But if you don't stop rubbing that hot little body
against me, then I'm going to fuck you here, in the middle of this
damned cave. Now stay still."
His other hand locked on her hip as he eased back, his head lowering to
allow his lips to graze her neck.
Damn, it had just been too long since she'd been with a man. That had
to be all it was, because if it wasn't, then she was in more trouble than
she could have ever imagined.
"Just blame it all on me, why don't you." She tried to be snide, she really
did. But the smile that trembled on her lips fed to her voice.
"It's sure as hell a lot easier that way." He chuckled as he lifted his head,
moving farther back until he let go of her wrists and released her from
the sensual spell he had been weaving around her.
She should have been thankful.
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Instead she wanted to whimper in disappointment. "I just bet it is." She
rolled her eyes, fighting to balance her equilibrium once again. "Are we
finished in here, or was there something else you wanted to check out?"
She stooped down to retrieve the flashlight that had rolled against the
wall before flipping it off and re-securing it on her utility belt. Right
beside the wicked submachine pistol she had pulled from her closet and
holstered there that morning. She'd be damned if she ever carried
another Wounder.
"Oh, there are many things I would like to check out." The heavy-lidded
stare had her stomach tightening, her pussy spasming.
"I bet there are." She hid the spurt of laughter that was building in her
chest. "But if we're finished with these damned caverns I'd really like to
head back to town. I do still have some sort of life here. Living it brings
me some satisfaction, you know. And I'm getting rather hungry."
For food, she chastised her aching clit. Just food. No sex. Sex with a
Breed was not a good idea. It involved all sorts of complications.
Possessiveness, arrogance, and other adjectives she really couldn't seem
to pull out of her head right now. She was certain they weren't good
ones though.
"Hrnmm," he murmured. The rumbling sound wasn't comforting. "We'll
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check the other cave just to be certain before heading out. If they left
the schedule here, they could have left something else across the gully."
"Fine." Another climb. Just what she needed. This time he was going
first. She was not getting downwind of him with that sensitive nose he
had. She was so wet she was certain she smelled of nothing but lust.
Wild, hot lust.
She was so fucked. And if she wasn't careful, it was going to be in a toogood
way.
She fascinated him.
Braden admitted he could be in some very deep trouble where Megan
Fields and her various mysteries were concerned. It wasn't just the
arousal that concerned him. He had been aroused before, but never had
he been this hungry, this intent on one woman outside the drug induced
"tests" the scientists had conducted in the labs.
Megan did more than just make him hungry. She made him yearn, and
that could be a very dangerous thing. But she also made him curious.
Curiosity killed the cat, he thought mockingly as he searched the next
cave, attempting to ignore the sweet heat that flowed from her.
He ached so desperately to taste her that the small, almost unnoticed
glands beneath his tongue felt swollen. The scientists had labeled them
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as advanced taste buds, another of the anomalies of their human/animal
genetics. There were quite a few of those.
But the glands had never become inflamed, swollen. And they sure as
hell had never spilled the subtle taste of spice into his mouth. And now
they were. The very thought of tasting Megan, of pushing his tongue into
her mouth and feeling her soft lips surround it, made them throb harder.
Not to mention what the thought did to his cock. The head was pounding
like a toothache that refused to ease. He could jack off, but he had
learned last night that it brought even less satisfaction than it ever had.
He just wasn't the "jack off " type, he guessed. He liked sex. He loved
women. The taste, the sound, the softness, all the unique qualities that
made women what they were. The feel of their nails piercing his
shoulders in climax, or the sweet explosion of earthy lust on his tongue
as he licked their cream from between their thighs. Women were
softness in a world gone mad. But Megan was making him mad, insane,
so desperate for the taste of her that he was on the verge of taking her
to the cave floor and covering her like the animal he was.
"There's nothing here, Braden." It wasn't the first time she had made the
comment. "No fissures, no tunnels, no hidden little ledges."
Yeah, he had figured that one out five minutes ago. But she was here,
the smell of her trapped between the stone walls, stroking his senses
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and filling him with a peculiar lust that he needed time to understand. To
figure out how to control.
If they left the cave, the winds would dissipate much of the scent, and
the surrounding land would diffuse it. He would have no time to revel in
it. In his memory, no woman had ever been so naturally hot for his
touch. It was almost humbling. Fuck that, it was arousing as hell. He
couldn't get enough of it, and if she wasn't careful, he would soon be
tasting it.
"Keep looking." He bent along the wall he was searching, exploring a
fissure that ran diagonally across the stone.
It was thin, barely wide enough for the tips of his fingers, but enough to
pretend interest in.
"Keep looking!" she exclaimed before breathing out in exaggerated
patience. "You're too bossy."
"And you're too argumentative, but you don't see me pointing that out."
She made him smile. It had been a long damned time since anyone had
genuinely made him smile.
He loved sparring with her, loved to listen to her snap at him and defy
him. She was a challenge, both physically and mentally, and she kept
him on his toes. And if he hadn't been mistaken, a definite smile had
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been edging her lips earlier and echoing in her voice.
"Don't I?’ She was smiling for sure now. She might have her back to him,
but he could hear the smile in her voice.
Unobtrusively he shifted the hard length of his cock beneath his jeans,
hoping for some relief. The damned thing only seemed to swell further as
he closed his eyes and drew the scent of her deeper into his head.
"Whichever one waited in this cavern couldn't have been here long," she
finally said. "It doesn't stink like the other one did."
He had noticed that himself.
"I suspect they both spent some time in the other one." He shrugged.
"Coyotes work better in teams. They challenge each other in their
viciousness. It makes them more merciless."
He watched as she finished checking a shadowed corner and turned back
to face him. Her face was flushed, her nipples pressing against her Tshirt
as she snapped the flashlight off and clipped it to her belt. "I
assume we're done here?"
"For now." He glanced around one last time. "Hopefully by this evening
Jonas will have some information for us as well as the pictures of the
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Breeds who were murdered. I want you to look at them closely, see if
you recognize them."
Even their trainers wouldn't have recognized them the day before.
"That sounds fine." She nodded. "Since I'm stuck with you at the house,
I have to do some grocery shopping though. I bet you eat a lot, don't
you?"
Her gaze roved over him. He knew the minute she spotted his erection
and almost laughed out loud as her eyes widened in surprise.
"I have very strong appetites." He was almost choking on his laughter as
heat enveloped her face.
She cleared her throat, a nervous little sound-part arousal. part
amusement. "I just bet you do," she muttered heading for the entrance
of the cave. "Wouldn't surprise me a bit."
Damn, she was cute. Tough as hell, with a mouth as mockingly sarcastic
as anyone he had ever met, and with more secrets than any woman
should have. But she made him laugh and kept him on his toes. A major
accomplishment.
"You might want to look into stocking up on plenty of proteins for
yourself too." He kept his voice controlled, no sign of amusement or
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hidden meanings. "You'll need your strength."
She turned back to him, a retort on her lips until she met the
deliberately innocent expression he kept on his face.
She narrowed her eyes as she propped her hands on her hips, drawing
attention to the ripe curves that had the blood pounding furiously
between his thighs.
"You're not fooling me, Arness." She arched that perfect little brow as
she pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You think you are. You want to." Then
she did smile. A sexy slow curve of her lips that had him gritting his
teeth to hold back his groan. "Maybe you're the one who's going to need
all that energy. I could be too much for you to handle, you know."
She turned then, and with a twitch of her pretty ass she stepped over
the ledge to the first foothold that would lead her back to the floor of the
gully.
Too much for him to handle? Doubtful. Not impossible.
But very, very doubtful.
Chapter Six
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Megan doubted it as well. As they searched through the remaining
caverns, she fought to keep her senses alert, using her ability to draw
from Braden's shield to hold back the less desired effects of the Empathy
and to use her talents to search for answers instead.
She wasn't adept at it. She had never had the opportunity to work in
such a way, but she found herself intrigued by the opportunity now. And
by the warmth and the subtle information she drew on the man as well.
There were dark places inside him, but he kept them hidden; he didn't
let them affect him. There was violence, yes. But it was tempered,
softened with compassion.
There was also dominance, a dominance that edged at the shields she
was borrowing-shields he was controlling.
She probed at it, feeling the amusement, the lust, a hunger that was
only growing.
She tried to ignore that, focusing instead on the remnants of emotions
and actions that still lingered within the caverns. Not that there was
much to latch on to. The Coyotes had come here to kill. They had
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followed the Breed couple from Broken Butte, but how had they known
to start there?
They were there to kill the couple, then to wait on Megan. She sensed
that; it had been uppermost in their minds. A clean sweep, but of what?
What were they attempting to hide?
"There's nothing here." Braden finally sighed as they went through the
last cavern, standing at the ledge and staring below with narrowed eyes.
He gave his head a brief, firm shake. "Let's get back to the Raider and
head out. I'll see if Jonas has come up with anything further in his
interrogation of the Coyote he took back with him."
He swung from the ledge to the narrow path that led back into the gully
as Megan followed.
Megan pushed back the stray strands of hair that had escaped from her
braid as she began trudging toward the Raider. She was ready to get the
hell out of the desert, to head into town for dinner then home to her
soft, comfortable bed.
Bruises from the past week throbbed painfully, as did some new ones
collected climbing the cliff faces. Her ear burned and her pussy had
developed an erotic, sensual ache that tormented her with the
knowledge that she was fighting something she knew Braden wanted
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just as much as she did. Well, she wanted it pretty damned bad; she
could be in worse shape than he was.
"What did you really expect to find here, Braden?" She watched him
curiously, still not certain what he was after.
"Anything. Everything. Nothing." She could hear the shrug in his lazy
tone and gritted her teeth in irritation.
"Two out of three ain't bad." She mocked their dubious success with a
roll of her eyes. "We found everything this gorge could have contained
and nothing we needed to answer our question. You're on a roll,
Braden." She jerked the driver's-side door open, sliding into the cool
comfort of the vehicle with a sigh of relief.
"You do sarcasm very well, Megan." He turned to her as he slid into the
passenger seat, leaning back comfortably as he smiled with a slow, toosexy
curve of his lips. That fuller lower curve made her nipples ache. It
was bad when something as simple as a man's smile made your nipples
ache, made them long for the feel of those sensual curves surrounding
them.
"I try." She cleared her throat nervously, quickly turning away from the
temptation of him as he emitted a completely male grunt of exasperation.
That shouldn't have turned her on. It was insulting, not in any way
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erotic. But the sound had her thighs tightening and her core aching.
Dammit.
Maybe it was time for the Pocket Rocket, the little clitoral stimulator that
came in so handy. Pocket Rockets were nice. Or her vibrator. It had been
a while since the need for sexual release had been so imperative. Maybe
it had never been this imperative, she thought. Nor had it ever had this
ability to make her want to be closer to a man; to make her need to be.
And he knew what he was doing to her. She could see it in his eyes, in
the way he lifted his head, his nostrils flaring.
He could smell her, smell her heat and her arousal. And there was no
way to hide it.
On the heels of that thought came another. She knew the Breeds' senses
were more advanced than those without the altered DNA. But she
wondered, how much more advanced were they?
She glanced at him from the comer of her eye and cleared her throat
before asking, "How's your hearing?"
"My hearing?" he asked, his voice filled with lazy amusement and just a
hint of curiosity.
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She glanced over at him fully, widening her eyes innocently. "Your
hearing. You know, your ears? Can you hear things better than other
people?"
She fought the flush that threatened to build beneath the skin of her
cheeks as she turned her eyes back to the track ahead.
"Better than non-Breeds, you mean?" he asked with interest.
She didn't trust that look of male innocence for a minute, but the
pretense had her fighting to hide her smile.
"Yeah." She nodded shortly. "That's what I mean."
"I don't know." Cool amusement filled his voice. "How good is your
hearing?"
Well, she wouldn't be able to hear him jacking off, but it wasn't like his
hand buzzed either…
"Normal." She shrugged.
"What would you classify as normal? What can you not hear that you
think I could?" Was he teasing her?
She spared him a quick look, frowning at the curious expression. Was
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that laughter lurking in his eyes? Surely he couldn't guess why she
wanted to know?
She probed at the shields he used, but could detect nothing but the
amusement.
"I don't know." She gripped the steering wheel harder as she tried to
appear casual and merely interested in his unique Breed abilities. "If I
were in the kitchen and you were in the living room of my house, I
wouldn't know it if you were to use_ oh, say_ a pair of hair clippers."
That seemed like a good contrast. A small, even vibration of sound, not
too harsh, not too easy to hear.
"Hair clippers?’ he asked hesitantly.
"Yeah." She nodded in all seriousness. "Hair clippers."
He tensed, clearing his throat as he shifted in his seat. "Are you trying to
find out if I'll hear you using a vibrator, Megan?"
She lost her breath, her face flaming with mortification as her head
swung around, catching the narrow-eyed suspicion on his face before she
jerked back to stare at the track.
"No," she exclaimed, shocked. How had he known?
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"Because if you are, I will tell you now: I would know. I would smell the
sweet scent of your pussy as you found your release, and I would hear
even the quietest vibrator. And I would be very, very displeased. I might
even have to spank you."
She swallowed tightly, certain her ass wasn't tingling in anticipation, but
rather in trepidation. She glanced at his hand as it lay casually on his
knee. It was broad, strong…
She shifted in her seat.
"That wasn't what I meant," she muttered. "And what business would it
be of yours?"
He was going too far. He had pushed every sexual hot button she had
and was now attempting to deny her a release that would allow the
dissipation of the tension those buttons were causing within her body.
There were lines no man should cross, and as far as Megan was
concerned, that was one of them.
"I can smell your feminine heat, Megan." His voice lowered, his words
sending a flush of heat beneath her cheek.
"And I know I cause it. You need satisfaction; you can find it with me, or
you can suffer with me. It's your choice."
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She narrowed her eyes as her independence flared within her.
"You don't command me, Braden." She sniffed disdainfully. "Not now,
not ever, and especially not in this. Don't force me to prove it."
"Don't force me to lose what little control I have to not test the barriers
you are throwing between us," he responded, his voice calm, warning.
"Remember the beast you're dealing with here, Megan. I'm not a man
you can tempt in the ways you would others, nor am I one you can tease
in this area. For both our sakes, exercise due caution unless you want to
experience the consequences."
His voice held a dark, warning rumble that sent shivers racing up her
spine, and small fingers of lightning-fast sensation streaked through her
nervous system.
Flattening her lips, Megan drew the Raider to a stop before engaging the
parking system and turning to him slowly. He was leaning against the
door, one arm lying along the armrest below, the other braced on the
padded center console between them. He was relaxed but watchful, and
aroused. She could feel the arousal reaching out to her.
"Being a Breed doesn't make you exempt from the normal laws of
decency and privacy." She breathed in deeply as she stared back at him.
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"That's my home, Braden. My bedroom. When the door is closed, it
means you are not welcome to invade that room, no matter the
circumstances, barring physical danger. Don't think that just because
you're bigger and more primal than I am that it changes the rules."
"Unfortunately it does." He growled, the hard rumble shattering the edge
of calm she tried to force around herself.
"It shouldn't, and I regret the need. But I find that my control in your
presence isn't what it should be. Right or wrong doesn't come into it.
Using the vibrator within my hearing would be tantamount to parading
naked in front of another man, Megan. Don't make that mistake unless
you're willing to carry through with the invitation."
Her chin jutted forward, anger spiking in her veins at the warning.
"No means no, Braden."
"Don't push this, Megan." She could feel it now, the edge of his control
slipping. She drew back, jerking to attention at the awareness that he
was more primal, possibly more dangerous than she had imagined he
could be where she was concerned.
"Megan." The hand that had been braced between the two seats lifted,
his fingers moving for the strands of hair that had slipped from her braid.
He smoothed them back as she watched him warily, her breathing
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rough, ragged, as his unusual gold eyes glittered with hunger and an
edge of humor. "You make me yearn for things that I'm certain I
shouldn't want. Things I'm certain you don't want. I'm man enough to
understand my limits here, and to make certain you understand them as
well." His fingers caressed a path of fire from her cheek to her neck.
"Knowing you are hot enough, needing me enough to attempt to find
your own release may be more than the animal inside me can bear. I
wouldn't take what was not given willingly, but neither would I continue
to straddle the line I now walk along. I would seduce you rather than
allowing you the choice of coming to me. I don't want to do that, baby."
His hand dropped from her, returning to the console. "Don't push me to
that. I wouldn't like myself much for it, and I'm certain you would come
to regret it. So in the interest of maintaining both our boundaries, use
caution."
He was serious. She stared back at him with a hint of incredulity and
wariness.
"Why?'" she finally whispered. "Why do you care how you get what you
want?" No other man she had ever known had cared.
His lips tilted with a hint of gentleness and a sensuality that sent flares of
response racing through her.
"Because that beautiful body isn't all I want, baby," he answered
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cryptically. "Not by a long shot. I want everything. Think about that
before you push the wrong buttons and tempt something you have no
chance of controlling."
Chapter Seven
Megan moved down the staircase that evening after her shower.
Everything felt off balance. Her emotions were in chaos, her physical
responses confusing. Her reactions to Braden Arness had thrown her so
off kilter that she wasn't certain what to feel at the moment.
After the Academy, and the disastrous results of training exercises, she
had shut herself off, retreated to the desert and put aside the dream of
making a difference within the world.
She had spent five years training to work in law enforcement, the first
two in pre-Selection where candidates were put through rigorous classes
involving legal code. The last three had been spent in the Academy after
the selection process, the final year in real-situation training exercises.
The last training mission had been a hostage situation. The emotions
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pouring from the young woman being held by her drug-dealer husband
had nearly incapacitated her, and caused an officer to be wounded. Her
inability to focus on the perpetrator and his victim, rather than the
emotions and the pain pouring through her, had nearly been fatal.
The Empathic abilities had shown up in her late teens. Her inability to
form the barriers that others began building as children had been her
downfall. She had stubbornly refused to give up her dream though.
Forcing herself through pre-Selection and the Academy, right to the very
moment that she knew without a doubt that the dream was over.
Megan moved into the kitchen, heading for the coffeepot despite the
lateness of the hour, and tried to ignore Braden as he sat at the table
with his laptop. He had been working there for hours, low growls coming
from his chest as his irritation seemed to build.
The arousal was only growing as well. Unfortunately, finding release on
her own was something she wasn't ready to tempt. Braden had been
tenser since their confrontation in the Raider earlier; edgier, more
aroused. That hunger was something she wasn't quite ready to confront.
"About time you came back down," he muttered as his fingers moved
over the keyboard. "It's time we get to work."
She turned away from him, lifting a cup from the cabinet before pouring
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the dark coffee into it.
"What do you call what we were doing all day?" Every muscle in her body
was protesting the workout. She could have sworn that rock climbing
and cavern investigating was work. But hell, what did she know?
"Come here and sit down." He moved from the chair, making room for
her as she moved around the table. "I pulled up the Breed database.
Every Breed the Lab had information on, and some they didn't, is listed
here. I have Mark and Aimee's files pulled along with their pictures. Go
over them, see if you recognize them, or if you can recall any point that
you may have been in contact with them."
She sat down in his chair hesitantly, her gaze flickering to the file pulled
up on the screen.
"These pictures were taken while Mark and Aimee were still in the Labs,"
she whispered, seeing the nudity of Aimee's upper-body shot, as well as
her disinterest in herself and her surroundings. "I've seen a few of the
Breed files at the Academy. They didn't allow them to wear clothing."
She looked up, watching as Braden pulled sandwiches from the
refrigerator and poured himself another cup of coffee.
"We weren't human, so why did we need clothing," he grunted as he
moved around the kitchen, fixing more coffee as he snacked on the food.
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He ate a lot; dinner had been finished an hour before and she was sure
he had eaten enough for three grown men.
She turned her attention back to the laptop and the two files he had
pulled up for her.
Breathing out wearily, she pushed her hair back from her face, wishing
now that she had taken the time to braid it before coming down from her
shower. The thick mass never failed to slip over her shoulder. It also had
the effect of making her feel softer, more feminine, when it was loose
and unbound. It was a weakness she couldn't afford right now. The
attraction burning between them wasn't dimming; it was only growing
stronger. She needed something to douse it, not strengthen her inability
to run from it.
"Mark and Aimee were created in France." He sat across from her. "To
the best of my knowledge, they had never been in the States until a year
ago, when they were rescued and relocated to the Breed Compound in
Virginia.
There are no records of any overseas missions. Just as there are no
records of any trips you could have made out of the States."
There was a definite question in his voice.
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Megan lifted her gaze from the computer screen and met his evenly.
"I've never been out of the States, Braden." She let a smile of
amusement tug at her lips. It was obviously not the answer he wanted to
hear. "And to my knowledge, I've never met these Breeds."
But they were familiar.
She turned back to the photos, wanting to frown at the odd prickling of
recognition, but aware of how closely he was watching her.
"Why did you come back here after training at the Academy?"
"Didn't we go over this earlier?" she protested, swallowing past the lump
of nervousness in her throat.
"You had excellent marks until your final training mission where your
instructor was injured. After that you resigned, packed up and came
home, despite several very lucrative offers from both public and private
sectors."
She leaned back in her chair, refusing to look at him as she felt the
demand filling the air. He deserved the truth.
He was working with her and that put him in danger. He needed to know
that.
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"It's complicated," she finally sighed.
"I'm a smart guy." He seemed to bite the words out. "I'm sure I'll follow
along just fine."
She looked at him then, catching the glittering suspicion in his eyes as
he watched her.
"It has nothing to do with these Breeds," she finally answered, flicking
the fingers of one hand toward the laptop. "It's a personal issue, Braden."
"Not any longer, Megan." He sat his cup down, leaning forward as he
braced his hands on the top of the table and crowded over her. "My
people are dying in this desert. Mark and Aimee left Sanctuary and drove
straight here, into a trap, in a section of the desert patrolled by you. A
search of their computer files showed that they had done a search on
you before leaving. They were coming here to find you. Somehow the
Council learned of it and sent those Coyotes to kill them and you, using
their bodies to draw you in. Why?"
Guilt slammed through her. She jumped from her chair, facing him
squarely now. She fisted her hands to keep them from shaking as she
blinked back the moisture in her eyes. She didn't want him to see her for
the failure she was. Unable to control her own abilities, a liability to
anyone who fought beside her.
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"Answer me, Megan." He caught her again, this time his grip tight
enough on her upper arm to ensure she wasn't going anywhere, while
careful to leave no marks.
The Academy had been five years of hell. She excelled because the
strenuous work required complete focus. During training, she had gained
some relief from the stress, the fears and the often volatile personalities
who had come together in one area. It had amazed her, the number of
the recruits who were there simply to act out the violence that raged
inside them.
"Tell me why you're hiding. What did you see, Megan? Why are you
cowering in this damned desert like a child afraid of the dark?"
"Because I am scared of the dark." She raged, her control breaking.
Tears filled her eyes as she stared up at him, trembling, terrified that he
could be right. That she had possibly seen something, felt or sensed
something that she was unaware of. Or worse, that she had ignored
something that had caused those deaths, that somehow she could have
prevented the violence.
"Let me go." She pulled out of his grip, refusing to meet his gaze as she
turned her back on him and swiped at the tear that escaped her control
and fell from her eyes. "I'm an Empath, Braden." She fought the pain
welling inside her, the dreams she had run from in the face of reality. "I
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hide in this fucking desert because it's quiet. Because there's no one
around me for miles; no emotions, no fears or rage to batter at my
damned head. Because I can function here." Her throat tightened at the
admission.
Megan pushed her fingers in her hair, clenching at the strands as she
fought for control amid the chaotic emotions raging inside her now.
These were her emotions, her fears, and they were just as debilitating as
the talent that allowed her to feel others.
"Empath?" his voice was thoughtful now, the anger of moments ago now
throttled.
"I can't stand crowds, period. I can barely function here, in the town I've
lived in all my life. Until you, I've never been around another human
being I could tolerate for longer than a few hours at a time." She turned
back to him, her own anger tightening her body as she fought demons
she knew she could never win against. "I was in my late teens before it
began developing; I couldn't hide it. Most Empaths develop sooner, at a
time when it's possible for their brains to create the necessary shields to
protect them. It didn't happen that way for me. I'm helpless against the
influx of emotions and latent violence most human beings harbor. I can't
protect myself from it. I thought I could make it in the Academy." She
shook her head wearily, the guilt eating her alive. "It was my dream and
I was determined to have it until I was nearly the cause of my
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instructor's death during our last training exercise. After that_" She
breathed in harshly, wrapping her arms around herself and fighting back
the pain. "After that, I just came home. Lance gave me a job with the
sheriff's department and I tried to content myself with it."
Megan turned away from him, unable to risk staring into his eyes,
perhaps seeing the condemnation she always felt she deserved.
"Then why join the Law Enforcement Academy to begin with?" he asked
quietly.
"Because I was stupid." Her laugh was filled with bitter mockery. "I was
stubborn, so stubborn, and too young to understand what I was getting
myself into. That was my dream, and in my selfishness, I was
determined to have it.
My barriers are strong enough to protect me if others are careful to tone
down their emotions, which my friends and family had always done. The
real world_" She breathed out heavily as she pushed her fingers through
her hair, feeling once again the guilt she had never forgotten. "I found
out how ill prepared I really was."
"But it's absent with me?" She felt him move closer. "Why?"
"The hell if I know." She turned back, surprised to find his chest no more
than a few inches from her. God, how she wanted to lean against him.
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"There's a calm around you, some sort of natural barrier that, if I'm close
enough, I can draw from." She shook her head in confusion.
He was silent, watching her intently. His eyes darkened to the color of
old gold and began to glitter with heat.
"I'm not scared," she bit out. the bitterness that lived inside rising like a
demon intent on destroying her. "I want to live. I want to fight, and by
God I want to kick ass as much as anyone I've ever known. I dreamed of
being part of the Breed rescues and had to back out of the program
when recruits were chosen for the task force. I could be working
anywhere, everywhere. But I'm a danger; not just to myself but also to
anyone working with me. I can't take that risk."
"Megan, you can't live like this." When he touched her, she flinched.
Despite the gentleness of his hands, the soft rumble of his voice, she
could feel the sense of failure inside her. She had failed herself, and she
was failing him. "I don't have a choice." She shook her head, attempting
to pull away from him, to put some distance between them.
Didn't he know what his touch did to her? What it made her ache for? He
could touch her and she wasn't seeing the deaths he had been part of,
she wasn't feeling the brutality of his past or the violent anger she knew
he felt toward the Coyotes. She felt the heat of his body, the calloused
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warmth of his hands; she felt a hunger that she knew was her own and it
terrified her. Because she knew, once he was gone, she would never
have it again.
"We all have choices." The dark baritone was a caress itself as his other
hand landed on her hip, holding her in place each time she attempted to
move away from him."Stay still, Megan. You said you're calm when I'm
near. That my emotions don't batter you; they don't bring you pain.
Why?"
"I don't know." Her hands lay against his chest, and she knew she should
be pushing him away. But she couldn't.
He warmed her, took away the cold and replaced it with heat. "And I
don't need to be babied by you. Do you think I want to get used to it,
Braden? That I want to let myself use someone else's defenses for my
own?" Her fists clenched at the thought as she forced herself to push
away from him, to leave the shelter he provided.
"God. I don't need you to protect me any more than I need my family
doing it."
"What you need is your ass paddled for attempting to fight this alone."
He growled, his frustration apparent in his voice.
"Keep threatening to paddle me, Braden, and I'm going to make you
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regret it." Her eyes narrowed on him. This was the second threat.
"Or I'll make you enjoy it," he snapped back. "There are natural barriers
to protect you from this, Megan. Why haven't you found them?"
"Do you think I haven't looked?’ Why did men always think it was just a
matter of finding something? "I've got a library of self-help books,
Braden. I've watched every documentary and tried every fucking yin and
yang psychological trick I can come up with. They don't work."
He was too calm now, too calculating.
"Did you suspect?" She felt tension fanning inside her as the suspicion
began to grow in her mind.
"Of course I suspected." His eyes were narrowed on her as he crossed
his arms over his chest. "I didn't realize how debilitating it was, but I
suspected you possessed the gift. I watched you in that canyon, Megan.
You knew before the Coyotes fired. You sensed the danger and the death
before you ever stepped foot from that Raider. It was only logical to
assume you were Empathic."
She blinked back at him in shock. "And you never said anything?"
"What was there to say?' He shrugged negligently, his eyes still
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narrowed on her, his gaze considering. "All the signs were there."
"Is that why we've spent the day going over the murder scenes?" She
kept her voice low, her fury contained. "You did it deliberately?"
His brow arched in challenge. "Of course. You have the ability to find the
answers. I don't."
She breathed in roughly. "And now?"
"And now, we'll go back." His voice hardened. "We'll work on your
shields when this is over. When you're safe. But now, you need the edge
to stay alive. We'll go back and you will work at figuring it out."
"No." The snarl was one of fury, betrayal. He was fucking using her. "I'll
be damned if I will. I can't figure it out, Braden. Do you think I haven't
tried?"
"That's exactly what I think." His voice hardened. "I think you've grown
so used to hiding that it's become automatic. That the trauma of the gift
coming so late, the inability to produce an adequate barrier against it,
has resulted in an ineffective barrier. The pain gets in, the emotions and
the shock of the intensity of the violence throw up just enough of a
shield to keep the truth out, while allowing the pain to build. We'll work
on that, too."
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She stared back at him in horror. "You're serious."
"Of course I'm serious." His expression was completely confident. "You
can't afford to hide, Megan. These gifts_"
"It's a curse. At least call it what it is," she snapped out furiously. "And
I'll be damned if I'll go back to the murder scene. There's nothing there.
I tried."
"You didn't try. You hid. No more hiding."
Incredulity filled her.
"Fuck you!" She snarled.
"We'll get around to that, too." His answer had her gasping for breath,
grasping for control. If she had had a gun in her hand she would have
shot him.
"You used me," she threw back at him, becoming more enraged by the
second. "The trips to the crime scenes, the tender little touches, the
flirting. You've been using me. Nothing more."
"Don't kid yourself, cupcake." He snorted, a derisive little smile curling
his lips as his gaze raked over her heaving breasts. "My dick's so hard
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and ready to show you otherwise that I wouldn't advise pushing this little
boundary if I were you." The growl in his voice impaled her and sent
lightning whipping over her nerve endings, tightening her clit. Arousal
and lust, pulsing, red-hot and destructive, seared her womb.
Her juices gathered, flowed, moistening the outer lips, preparing her as
the rage and lust seemed to feed from one to the other until every cell in
her body and overly sensitive mind began to sizzle.
"You'll show me nothing," she cried out raggedly, betrayal slicing at her
chest at the realization that while she was fighting to survive, he was
determined to destroy her by making her experience the nightmares
awaiting her in that gully. "You will pack up now and get the hell out of
my house." She drew herself upright sharply. "I'd rather face the
Coyotes than deal with your lies."
"My lies?' He stepped closer, stalking her, his head lowered. His leonine
mane flowed around the savage features of his face as the golden eyes
glittered warningly. "I told no lies, Megan. I held nothing back. I've
asked you for the truth for days, and you have lied."
"I didn't know anything. I don't know anything."
"And you don't want to know." Before she could stop him, before she
could run, his arm snaked around her back, jerking her to him as his
head lowered farther, his gaze locking with hers. "Well, baby, you might
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be able to hide from the rest but I'll be damned if I'll let you hide from
this any longer."
His intent was instantly apparent. Megan's eyes widened, her fingers
forming fists as she pressed against his wide shoulders, her feet fighting
to find traction to jerk away from him. To escape the inescapable as his
lips covered hers.
Time stood still. Nothing existed; nothing moved or breathed except
Braden. His parted lips stole her breath.
His tongue pushed past hers, sinking into the surprised depths of her
mouth as a sudden taste of spice and heat exploded against her taste
buds. The dark, rich taste had her lips moving, clasping the intruder as
he licked, stroked. She met his tongue with her own, dancing around it
as she attempted to draw more of the blistering taste into her mouth.
She had to fill herself with it, sate her senses with its unique heat as she
fought to define the exact taste whipping through her mouth. There was
no description. It was lightning and a summer storm. It was cinnamon
and saffron, honey and sugar. And it was accompanied by the most
incredibly pleasurable kiss she could have imagined.
As usual, Braden asked for nothing. He swept in and conquered.
Claimed. She could feel the claiming in the hard hands that pulled her
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closer to his body, in the length of the erection pressing against her
lower stomach, and gloried in it.
She was doing some claiming of her own. Her hands sank into his hair,
her fingertips glorying in the feel of the thick, coarse strands that fell
well below his wide shoulders. Her hips arched as his hands moved to
the rounded curves of her rear, lifting her, notching her thighs into his as
his cock pressed against her swollen sex.
She needed to breathe, to scream out in pleasure, but the need for his
kiss was stronger. The taste that filled her captivated her, just as he had
captivated her since the moment she first saw him.
His tongue nudged against hers imperiously. She tangled with it, stroked
it as a warning growl sounded in his chest. She could feel the hard,
swollen glands beneath his tongue, knew the taste was spilling from
them, and craved more. She needed more.
"Now." He growled as he drew back, nipping at her lips as she tilted her
head, slanting against her mouth and fighting to pull his tongue back.
"Suck it. Ease me, Megan.''
His tongue speared into her mouth and her lips closed on it, drawing him
in deeper as she began a hesitant suckling motion. He began to thrust in
and out of her lips. The erotic action had them both moaning as the
blood began to boil in Megan's body, burning along her nerve endings,
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searing her mind.
White-hot pleasure was whipping through her now. She shook in his grip,
trembling as the ache in her pussy became deeper, sharper. God, she
needed him. Hungered for him. A hot, dark moan echoed in his chest as
her whimpers grew in volume and the kiss became rapacious, his tongue
thrusting in and out of her hot grip as she writhed against him. She had
known it would be like this. Lightning hot, destructive. The pleasure was
so intense, so deep, she wondered how she would survive when he left.
"Come here." She moaned as he lifted his head then dipped again for
another kiss.
He pulled back again, ignoring her needy little moan, the demand that he
return to the kiss. That he return the unique flavor to her mouth, to
allow her to relish it, to sate herself on it.
Her head fell back as his lips traveled over her neck, his tongue licking at
her flesh, sending riotous impulses zigzagging through her nervous
system at the faintest hint of the roughness of his tongue. It was perfect.
Not sandpapery; not smooth.
"Braden, God, I can't think." She gasped as his head lifted, the incredible
taste of him still lingering on her lips, the feel of his tongue echoing on
her flesh.
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"Don't think." He growled, his lips at the swell of her breast, his tongue
stroking the flesh there in long, slow licks. "Damn, you taste good,
Megan. Sweet and hot, like sin itself."
"Enough!" She struggled against him, her fists pressing against his chest
as his hand moved to her thigh, his fingers coming too close to the
blazing center of her body. God, she needed his touch. Had needed it for
days. And now it was so close, satisfaction so near that she could taste
it. It tasted of cinnamon and brown sugar. Of nutmeg and male heat.
Pure male heat.
"Enough?" He grunted the word, the rough growl in his voice sending
shudders quaking through her body as the animalistic sound seemed to
echo around her.
"This won't solve anything." She tore from his grip, very well aware that
he had let her go, and that it had nothing to do with her own strength,
which had completely deserted her now. Even her damned knees were
still shaking.
"It will solve many things." His gaze was heavy-lidded, his expression
possessive, lustful. "You're mine, Megan. You know it as well as I do.
You've sensed it from the very beginning. You know it."
Her head lifted as she fought the need pulsing heavily through her veins.
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It was mixed with fury. She hadn't asked him to do this to her. She
hadn't asked him to interfere in her life, to attempt to use her. And he
was trying to use her.
The curse he was so insistent that she court was one that would destroy
her. She had seen the destruction years ago in her nightmares.
"Stop. I can't do this."
He lifted his brow. Megan felt her teeth gritting as anger surged hot and
heavy inside her veins, mixing with the lust to create a cauldron of heat
that blazed through the center of her body.
The lust wasn't so bad. Actually, she kind of liked that part, she had to
admit. But his heavy-handed, know-it-all male stuff was going to get on
her nerves fast.
He shook his head slowly as he crossed his arms over his chest and
stared around the room.
"Why? So you can continue to hide, Megan? What is so frightening about
knowing the truth?"
"The truth?" She pushed her fingers through her hair as bitterness welled
inside her, "And how do you know the truth, Braden? I don't sense truth;
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I sense whatever was felt at the time. That doesn't necessarily mean it's
the truth."
Another painful piece of knowledge that the curse had taught her.
"In this case, it could bring you the truth," he pointed out softly. "The
Council wants you dead, Megan, and they won't stop until you are.
Unless you stop them first. Will you die for them?"
Will you die for them? She didn't want to die. She wanted to live. She
wanted to fight as she was meant to fight, to know adventure, life. Love.
She wanted all those things she had dreamed of as a child. Before she
had begun feeling the remnants of broken lives and broken dreams.
Before she had realized the danger she could become to anyone she
worked with, anyone she was around.
"You don't know that." She shook her head fiercely.
"You can't be certain."
His laughter was rife with knowledge, dark and brutal. His expression
was a grimace of savage, remorseless truth.
Of course they could kill her. He was proof that they could and would
tamper in ways nature had never intended.
"I can be certain." He tilted his head as he watched her.
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"And you know it's the truth. You know it, Megan, just as well as I do."
She flinched at his words. The news was still filled with stories of new
horrors discovered within the Breed Labs, and the records found. The
experiments, so horrible, so demonic that even now, years after the first
Breed had come forward, the world could only look on in shock.
"Aimee was one year out of the Labs," he reminded her then. "If you
read the files that were confiscated when the Lab fell you would know
that before her rescue she was a toy. She hadn't grown in strength, in
effectiveness, so she was turned over to the Council Trainers and guards
for their pleasure."
"Stop." She didn't want to hear this.
"They raped her. Day after day, night after night. They allowed her to
run; they let her fight and they laughed at her weakness as they raped
her. Over and over again, Megan. Because she wasn't human. She was a
creature. A toy. Without worth."
She wanted to cover her ears, to block out the remnants of memory, the
muted screams she had heard as she stood beside the SUV. Knowledge.
She had been able to block it for the small amount of time she had been
there. She had kept a careful distance, hadn't touched the bodies, hadn't
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touched the vehicles. Had refused to open her senses enough to feel the
pain screaming through Aimee's body. But enough of it had slipped past
the barrier she had slammed up that she knew of the betrayal.
"I can't tell you why they were killed." She clenched her fists as she
crossed her arms over her chest, fighting to hold back the chill moving
through her. "It doesn't work that way."
"How do you know it doesn’t?’ He continued to watch her intently. Too
intently. His gaze sliced through her defenses. "You've never tried."
"And I can't start now." Once she released the fragile barrier between
her and the world, she knew it wouldn't end. The pain would go on
forever.
"Yes, you can. And you will." His voice was hard. Determined.
Megan found herself stepping back as his arms uncrossed, the power and
strength in the hard muscles of his chest, his biceps, drawing her gaze.
They rippled as he moved, much like the huge lions his DNA came from.
"I can't do what you want." She forced the words past her lips, seeing
the steely determination in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Braden. I can't be what
you need."
She turned and left the room, moving quickly toward the stairs, her only
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clear thought to escape him, to escape herself. She felt too much when
she was around him. She had fought for too many years for the measure
of peace she had found in her life, only to learn that all the planning, all
the hiding, had been in vain. A curious sense of failure swept over her.
As she raced up the stairs, she was instinctively aware of Braden behind
her, coming for her. He had no intention of letting her escape so easily.
As she reached the second-floor landing, his hard arm latched around
her waist, pulling her against him a second before she found herself
against the wall. A gasp left her lips as his hand slid between her thighs,
cupping her, holding her heat captive in his palm.
"You are more than I ever dreamed I would find in this desert," he
growled. "But that doesn't mean you'll control me, Megan. It doesn't
mean you can run from me or that I will allow you to hide from yourself."
His fingers pressed closer, adding a heat and pressure to her swollen clit
that had her gasping in surprise. Her juices eased from her vagina,
dampening her further as she felt the muscles swelling, pulsing
erratically for his touch. The taste of cinnamon and brown sugar lingered
on her tongue, reminding her of his taste, the heat of his kiss.
"This isn't going to solve anything." She struggled against him, biting
back her moan as he held her firm, his other hand moving beneath her
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shirt, his fingertips skimming her stomach before flattening just below
her breast.
"I'm not here to solve anything except the danger stalking you," he
reminded her, his voice a dark, deep male purr. The sound of it excited,
terrified. "This," he pressed closer to her back as his fingers began a
gentle rubbing motion between her thighs—"isn't meant to solve. It isn't
meant to be comfortable, or a place to hide. Starting here_" She
whimpered as he pressed harder against her clit, rubbing more firmly as
she went to her tiptoes to escape the extreme reactions racing through
her body. "This is to show you. To tempt you_" A smile filled his voice a
second before his teeth grazed her neck. "To remind you_ I'm the boss,
baby. You will do it because I say you will. You will learn how to use your
gift, you will learn how to fight, because the alternative is death, and
that is unacceptable. And you can do it one of two ways_" His voice
deepened. "The easy way" His hand smoothed over her stomach. "Or
the hard way." His fingers pressed, stroked, rotated.
Megan's eyes widened as wildfire skipped through her veins and pleasure
popped through her womb.
It wasn't an explosion. It wasn't an orgasm meant to destroy her senses
or bring her to her knees in submission. It was meant to tease, a taste of
ecstasy, a deliberately seductive, erotically diabolical surge of pleasure
that would ensure she could never forget. Never forget who gave it, or
where the ultimate pleasure could be found.
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"Remember that cupcake." He growled before turning and stalking to his
room, anger radiating from him in waves as she watched him disappear.
She was still trembling, shuddering from the excessive pleasure and her
inability to control it. She couldn't control the need, herself or him. Oh
boy, she was in so much trouble now.
Chapter Eight
She wasn't in the best of moods the next morning. She had tossed and
turned in bed, aroused, furious, and scared.
Scared of the sensations she felt when Braden touched her, of her own
reaction to him, and the bonding she could feel tying them together. The
last was the crux of the matter. She had never bonded with anyone
outside her family, especially not a man as hard and as formidable as
Braden.
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She knew what he wanted from her, knew he wasn't going to let her hide
or ignore the very things she had fought to ignore for so many years. It
would have been easily avoided if she could convince herself it wasn't
something she wanted; but she knew it was. She wanted to learn how to
control her talents, how to separate herself from her abilities and sift
through the echoes of emotions to the knowledge beneath. She had
never succeeded on her own, and though she feared the failure of trying
again, she knew she would. She would, because the opportunity was
there; because she knew it could well be her last chance.
With the emotions churning so restlessly inside her, it was no surprise
that when Lance called, ordering her into the office for a meeting, it
irritated her.
"Broken Butte isn't a large town," Megan lectured Braden as they drove
past the city limit sign just before noon. "We're a very close-knit
community. We don't mind outsiders, but we don't like governmental
types." She sneaked a look from the comer of her eye as he slouched in
his seat, his Stetson pulled low to shade his eyes.
Damn, he looked good in that hat. And she didn't want to remember how
good he looked; didn't want to acknowledge it. She was still burning
from his touch the night before, so desperate to be taken it was a
wonder she hadn't gone to his bed last night.
"I promise I'm housebroken, Megan," he drawled.
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"Only because it suits you at the moment." She grunted, shifting in her
seat as she entered the outer edges of town.
She was aware of the long look he directed at her. It was impossible not
to be aware of it. Her body was so highly sensitive now that she swore
she could feel his gaze raking over her.
"Megan, sweetheart," he chastised her, his voice deepening to an
outrageously sensual pun: "I promise to behave myself. Jonas assures
me I passed Civility with flying colors."
He had been like this all morning. Gently sardonic, watching her, his
gaze patient as he seemed to wait on something. He could wait until hell
froze over. It didn't matter what he wanted, she was determined to deny
him.
Of course, she knew exactly what she wanted. Or rather, what her body
wanted.
No way, no how. Whatever the hell was wrong with her, she was not
giving in to it. She clenched her thighs together tighter, very well aware
of Braden's carefully drawn breath. He could smell her arousal and that
was just pissing her off.
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"Would you stop it," she hissed as she pulled into the parking lot of the
sheriff's office. "You start walking around sniffing the damned air and
everyone is going to know exactly what you are. And for God's sake,
keep those damned teeth hidden. One flash of that vampire smile of
yours and little children will run screaming."
He smiled slowly. "Actually, most seem rather interested in it. I believe
that fake Breed teeth even went on sale at the malls this year. I hear the
Breed Pride is making a mint from the sales."
Megan pulled into the first available parking spot before laying her head
on the steering wheel and shaking it in defeat.
"It's okay, baby." She started when his hand stroked slowly down her
back. "I'll make it all better when we get home."
Her head snapped up. "You are certifiably insane." She groaned, shaking
off his touch as he chuckled devilishly.
"Keep your damned paws to yourself."
His grin was rakish as he tipped his hat back a bare inch, his eyes filled
with mirth.
Megan shivered at the look. She would have moaned but she'd be
damned if she would give him the satisfaction.
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"Let's go." She released her seat belt before pushing open the door and
stepping out. "Lance is already pissed off enough at me. I don't need to
be late for this meeting to make it worse."
"Remind me to find a less confrontational partner the next time." He
sighed as she frowned at him darkly. "You, Megan, are becoming
downright hostile. For a woman who smells so sweet and warm, your
attitude leaves much to be desired."
She just bet it did. If he kept this up she was going to show him the
working end of her pistol and let him see just how confrontational she
could really get.
"You know," he said, "I bet if you try real hard, you could stand right
here and figure out just what this mysterious meeting is all about."
Braden stopped several feet from the steps that led to the double doors.
She stared back at him in horror before glancing around to make certain
no one heard his blasphemous words.
"Would you shut up," she snapped.
His brows arched questioningly. "Come on, Megan. It would be easy. Just
give it a little try."
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With a sneer she brushed past him and headed up the steps. She heard
his sigh a second before a small, amused grunt of laughter preceded him
up the steps.
"Well, you could have at least tried." He managed to grab the door
handle before she did, pulling it open with a flourish as she rolled her
eyes in exasperation.
Deputy Jenson's fury slapped at her as she passed his office. It was
always present—the dark violence, the thirst for blood. He wasn't one of
the good guys, but until he broke the right rule, Lance couldn't get rid of
him. That edge of violence nagged at her until Braden moved closer,
distracting her with his clean male scent and aura of male arousal that
whipped around her senses.
Megan breathed in deeply, ducking her head as she gritted her teeth and
moved purposefully to Lance's office at the end of the building.
Separated from the main offices by the visiting rooms, it leant a less
emotionally chaotic feel.
Lance was a calm person, not given to violence, though with a ragged
edge of bitterness that saddened Megan. He was still one of the easiest
people to be around.
She knocked on his door.
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"In," Lance snapped.
Megan cast Braden a frowning glance as she gripped the doorknob,
feeling Lance's anger seeping through the panel.
"What did you do?' she hissed, not in the least taken in by his innocent
look.
"Me?" He arched his brow, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I've been
a good Leo, darlin'. What did you do?'
She snorted at his reply before pushing the door open and stepping into
the room.
She was aware of the tension that snapped around her the minute she
entered the room. Though she had been unaware of the other inhabitant
standing across the room. And she bet he was a Breed. Dangerous,
powerful, and not in the best of moods.
His eyes narrowed the instant she walked in, and heat flooded her face
as he raised his head and inhaled quickly.
Son of a bitch. What did they do, go around sniffing every woman in the
world like a potential meal? So she was horny. Hadn't they ever smelled
a horny woman before? Or was she somehow different?
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The ridiculous thought caused her to turn and glare at Braden. He closed
the door behind him and stared at the room's other occupant with a
faintly questioning look. Evidently, he was just as surprised as she was.
"Jonas." His voice was cautious as Megan stepped to the side, closer to
Lance's desk.
"Braden." The other man inclined his head slowly, his odd, silver eyes
shifting to Megan then to Braden once again.
He was an imposing figure. As tall as Braden; muscular, savage. But this
one— Jonas — could easily be a killer. Megan could feel the darkness
that surrounded him, the emotions that clashed within him like lightning
in the middle of a thunderhead. Rage, dark and barely contained, fought
for freedom. But she could also sense honor, pain, regret. The regret
was nearly as thick as the rage. All the emotions were subdued though,
barely noticeable as an aura of control and determination held them back.
"Is there a problem, Lance?" She looked to her cousin.
"Megan, meet Jonas Wyatt. You saw him the night the Coyotes were
picked up at your house," Lance reminded her with a cold edge to his
voice.
Megan nodded.
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"What's going on?'Braden didn't seem inclined to beat around the bush.
He moved in front of her, facing Jonas.
She moved to go around him, only to raise her brows as he shifted in
front of her, blocking her once again.
Jonas's irritable growl as she pushed Braden out of the way had her eyes
narrowing on him.
"Lance?' She turned to her cousin, growing tired of the disapproving
frown Jonas Wyatt had leveled on her.
"Ask him." He waved his hand toward the Breed. "He called the meeting
with a demand for secrecy. I just live to serve."
Megan winced. Evidently he had received an order from very high up to
serve, otherwise he wouldn't be nearly as pissed.
Jonas flicked Lance a cool look. "I do apologize, Mr. Jacobs. The need for
secrecy was high. The report I received from Braden concerning the
printout found in that cavern was disturbing. The information corning in
from other sources even more so. I needed to assess the situation
myself."
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"What was wrong with meeting at the house?" Braden was too close. He
stayed on her ass, hovering over her like a dark shadow.
"The printout is being investigated," Lance snapped. "I will find out who
accessed and printed it. It's just a matter of time."
"What's taking so long?" She shook her head in confusion. "The
computers automatically log those passwords."
The voice that answered sent chills racing over Megan's flesh. "The
password used was Sheriff Jacobs's."
Lance stared at her. She could feel the pain radiating from him, but also
the protectiveness. Lance would never hurt her. She knew that just as
she knew the sun would rise in the morning and night would come later.
"We have a problem then." She turned and looked at Jonas. She was
seriously starting to dislike this one. "Someone has obviously managed
to steal passwords."
"The sheriff assures us he doesn't write his password down or share it.
He changes it weekly and uses strict privacy protocols on his computer."
Megan watched Jonas for long moments. Lance was still, quiet. And that
wasn't a good sign. An explosion was brewing and it was one Megan
didn't want to witness.
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"Tell him to stop, Braden." She stared into the savage silver eyes as she
spoke to the man behind her. "Now."
"I'd like to hear an explanation myself, Megan."
She turned to Braden carefully. "I said now," she reminded him, keeping
her voice soft, her fury throttled.
She didn't know the game Jonas Wyatt was playing, but she knew he
was playing one, and he was using Lance to do it.
"I don't need your protection, Megan," Lance snapped then. "I'll find
out"
"If you're still in this office." Jonas's voice was condescending. "Such
mistakes are not just criminal, they are also incriminating, Sheriff
Jacobs."
"You son of a bitch" Lance was out of his chair and halfway around the
desk before Megan could step in front of him, placing her hand on his
chest. But she jerked it back quickly. She stared down at her hand,
feeling the sharp sensation of distaste at the touch before staring back
up at Lance. "Fuck 'im." She kept her voice soft as she let a small smile
assure him of her trust. "We both know better, Lance. And I know you'll
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find the proof. Don't let him get to you."
"Dammit, Meg" He reached out, his hands gripping her shoulders,
sending pulses of a painlike sensation that attacked her nerve endings.
She flinched back a second before Braden's surprising snarl filled the
room and he pulled her away from her cousin.
"What the hell?’ Lance stared at her in shock. 'Meg, are you okay?"
He reached for her again, only to have Braden pull her quickly behind
him, ignoring her struggles as he did so.
"Dammit, Braden"
"What the fuck is going on?’ Lance’s voice was filled with confusion.
Anger. "Is she hurt?"
Megan forced her way back in front of Braden, her elbow stabbing into
his hard stomach as he tried to stop her.
"Don't push me back behind you again." She stared up at him furiously.
"When I need you standing in front of me, I'll let you know."
The rumbled growl that came from his chest might have intimidated
someone less pissed off, Megan thought. But it did little to impress her.
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Jonas shifted impatiently, drawing her gaze back to him.
"He won't allow another male to touch you, Miss Fields," Jonas snapped
furiously. "Test him and you might get more than you've bargained for."
"I didn't ask you." She turned on him, enraged, aware of Lance watching
her in surprise. "So you can just shut the hell up."
"You didn't have to ask." His tight smile was cold and dangerous. "I was
being nice by offering the information."
"Jonas, you're not exactly making sense," Braden pointed out, his voice
not as lazy as before, but no less confused than Lance's had been. "And
accusing Jacobs of betraying his cousin wasn't your brightest move."
There was a question in his voice as he obviously chose to ignore the
earlier statement regarding his possessiveness toward her.
"The evidence is there," Jonas pointed out. "The schedule comes from
this office alone, no one else should have had access to it. The
information we've managed to extract from the Coyote you captured
indicates someone working from the inside. Jacobs is on the inside."
Lance's fists bunched, his expression contorting into lines of fury as he
turned on the Breed. " I've had my fill of your accusations Jonas."
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Megan struggled to fend off the whiplash of emotions slamming into her.
She moved closer to Braden and threw up every shield she could force in
front of them, but nothing helped. Lance's anger was whitehot, his voice
pain-filled, edging into violence as Jonas's silver eyes darkened
dangerously. She shook her head, staring at him, fighting the stirring
cauldron of sensations as the swirled around her.
She couldn't run. She couldn't escape the emotions.
"I've had my fill of your incompetence," Jonas sneered. "Tell me, Jacobs.
Are you the one who directed Mark and Aimee into that desert? Did you
play liaison to the Genetics Council and their Coyotes?" His anger was
like wildfire, engulfing everything in its path.
"Like hell." Lance moved for the other man, his muscles bunching as
Megan felt the whip of another emotion. Deceit. A lie. A carefully
constructed game.
"No. Lance, he's playing you." She jumped in front of him again. "Don't
give him the satisfaction of a fight."
"Playing what?" he snapped, attempting to pull away from her. "I'll be
damned if I let him stand in my office and accuse me of trying to kill
you, Megan."
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"Stop." She shook his arm, ignoring the discomfort, staring back at him
fiercely. "Listen to me." Her fingers tightened despite the building fire
beneath her skin, the harsh reaction to touching someone else that
made no sense. "He's playing with you, Lance, He knows you didn't do a
damned thing. This is no more than a game."
She barely realized she was shuddering. She could feel Lance's rage
beating within him, beating within her, demanding action. She couldn't
let him fight; wouldn't let him fight. It was all a game, carefully
constructed, for what reason she wasn't certain.
"Megan, let him go." Braden seemed to tower over her, his hand
covering hers. His touch was cool, comforting where the touch of Lance's
flesh filled her with pain. "He's hurting you. I can feel the pain pouring
from you. Let him go."
She was shaking, fighting the sensations, staring up at the cousin who
had been one of the mainstays in her life for as long as she could
remember. The pain made no sense; the sharp discomfort in her hands
streaked through the rest of her body, cramping her muscles, searing
her skin.
"Hurting her?’ Lance’s frown was bewildered. "Meg, what the hell is going
on?"
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Lance moved back, pulling his arm gently from her grip as he retreated,
his concern washing over her as some dark sizzle of satisfaction speared
through the room. She turned slowly to Jonas Wyatt.
"I don't like you," she informed him, gritting her teeth in anger. "You are
a sick son of a bitch." He knew. She could feel it. He was aware of her
abilities, testing them, pushing them all. His lips curved sardonically.
"Perhaps." He tilted his head in acknowledgment of the insult as she
stared back at him in confusion.
"Why did you do this?" she asked quietly.
"Because it needed to be done." Jonas arched his brow. "You see, Miss
Fields, we have a spy somewhere in this little setup. If not here in this
office, then elsewhere. Possibly both. I'll find out who it is, one way or
the other. Thank you very much for assuring me that in this case I was
wrong. Sheriff Jacobs is innocent."
Her lips parted in shock.
"It's all a game," she whispered. "You knew I was empathic. You used
me to try to trap my cousin," she accused him, the anger growing in her
voice as she twisted her head to stare up at Braden. "You told him." It
made sense now. Somehow he had learned of the empathic abilities and
turned them against her by confronting Lance in front of her and then
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watching her reaction. "You bastard!" She struggled against Braden's
grip. "You cold-blooded, unfeeling son of a bitch."
"Megan. Stay still." Braden's arms surrounded her as she tried to slam
her elbow into his abdomen, jerking against his grip. "You don't want to
do this alone. Not right now. Too many emotions are whipping through
you. Settle down and think first."
His voice was at her ear, slicing through the chaotic din of the blood
thundering in her ears, of the emotions and sensations that attacked her
brain. Fury. Anger. It was her weakness. She couldn't manage even the
simplest shield against them on her own.
Lance was trying to pull his own emotions back, to spare her the pain of
his fury; but it was still there, whipping through the room as though it
were a separate entity.
She could feel herself shuddering in Braden's grip. She was breathing
harshly, her mind soaking up the psychic waves rolling through the
room. So many emotions. But over them all, satisfaction. Satisfaction, as
well as anger, that poured from Jonas Wyatt.
Her gaze rose to his as she grabbed hold of the fragile barrier she could
feel surrounding her, the calm that flowed from Braden and
encompassed her in its protection.
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"Get the hell out of this office, Jonas," Lance snapped. "Now. And don't
bother coming back here."
"Sorry Sheriff." Jonas's smile was flat, tight with his own anger now.
"Unfortunately, we're not quite finished yet. I came to find a spy; instead
I find out that my best Enforcer has now mated your cousin. Quite an
interesting little development, I must say."
Braden froze behind her as Megan blinked back at the Breed.
"What are you talking about?'she snapped.
Suddenly, the air in the room felt too thick, too tension filled to allow her
to breathe. Jonas glanced behind her at Braden.
Jonas's smile was cold. "The Mating isn't going to do her much good
unless you carry it through, Braden. Hurry and knock her up before she
loses her mind."
None of this was making sense. Jonas wasn't making sense.
"You're pushing me too far, Jonas." Braden's growl was savage,
animalistic. "Insult her again and I'll kill you."
Jonas's brow arched, his gaze locked with hers. "Did I insult her? he
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murmured. "I stated a fact, Braden. You have mated this woman. It's a
little-known phenomenon that began with Callan Lyons, the Pride's
leader, and his woman. You are both in the middle of Mating Heat. You
marked her, kissed her, infected her with that hormone in your tongue
that is more binding than marriage. And there's only one cure." His lips
curled coldly. "Well, perhaps not a cure exactly, but one of the few hopes
of easing the arousal that will become so painful, so debilitating that
she'll risk every area of your life. Congratulations, buddy." The last
remark lacked any sincerity whatsoever. Not that it mattered.
Shock now filled the room. It slammed into her, ripped through her brain
as she turned slowly to meet Braden's gaze and felt the absolute,
complete horror that raced from him and struck her mind, blinding her to
every other emotion.
His denial was so strong, so fierce, it slapped her like an open-handed
blow, pushing her back, reaching into the depths of her soul and
withering a hope she hadn't known had bloomed within her.
In that moment, she cursed her abilities with everything she had, just as
fiercely as she cursed the men staring back at her.
"I didn't want you either," she finally whispered as something in her soul
flamed in agonizing pain, forcing the lie past her lips as she turned and
moved jerkily away from him. "What I do want are explanations." She
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turned to Jonas, blinking back the tears that were gathering in her eyes
as she met his flinty look. "Now."
Chapter Nine
Mating Heat. Megan listened in silent shock as Jonas explained the
physical symptoms, the need, the arousal and what had caused it. He
was very clinical about it. She was thankful that he had asked Lance to
leave before explaining more fully.
It began with a certain touch. A kiss, a nip, any caress that allowed the
Breed saliva-infused with the hormone that caused the glands at sides of
their tongues to swell into a body's system.
The nip on her ear would have done it, perhaps. She remembered the
sensitivity of her earlobe after the confrontation, the slow-rising arousal,
the clash of emotions that kept her so off balance.
It hadn't exactly begun there. She remembered following Braden
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through the tunnels, intrigued by his scent, by the air of danger and
excitement that flowed around him. She would have wanted him
anyway, but would she have wanted him with the strength she did now?
That quickly?
She risked a quick glance at him and admitted she would have. He had
drawn her to him, fascinated her, became a conspirator in adventure
within the first half hour of their meeting. And she knew, despite the
conflicting emotions raging within her, that the little nip he had given her
had little to do with that.
That didn't make his rejection of her easier. Her chest was tight with the
tears she was holding back. She assured herself she wasn't going to cry.
Not yet. Though maintaining control on her emotions became harder by
the second as Jonas's explanations whipped through her head.
"We've watched the phenomenon advance," Jonas explained as he sat on
the edge of the desk, his mocking gaze touching on both of them. "Some
of the females it affects with greater strength than others. From the
smell of the heat pouring from her, I'd say your woman is one of the
strongest."
Now there was one pissed-off Lion Breed. Her eyes followed Braden for
long minutes, taking in the emotionless expression, the flat chill in his
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eyes and the strength of the barriers he had slammed between her and
his own emotions.
And perhaps that was for the best. The rejection had sliced through her
with a pain in her chest that she hadn't expected. Forcing the hurt back
was next to impossible as she listened to Jonas explain the Mating Heat
and its implications.
"Mating Heat means forever, boys and girls," he announced sarcastically.
Megan crossed her arms over her breasts and stared back at Jonas
defiantly.
"I can tell you're just thrilled over it too,'' she mocked him coldly,
ignoring the odd little glint of amusement that flickered in those icy gray
eyes. "What happened Mr. Wyatt, did you suspect this before you came
out here and set up this little meeting?'She waved her hand to
encompass the three of them. "You knew Lance didn't print out that
damned schedule, just as you knew that Braden would discover the fact
that I'm an Empath. You came here to be certain that the Mating you
suspected had actually happened."
His brow arched. A slow upward tilt that conveyed a sarcastic response
more clearly than words.
"I suspected," he admitted with a slow incline of his head as he glanced
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at Braden and grimaced. "I was hoping that this time my suspicions
would be wrong." His gaze when it returned to her was condemning.
"I'm certain his hopes agree with yours," she snapped as she flipped her
hand toward Braden's silent form, covering her hurt with anger. "So find
a cure." She ignored the rumbled growl that came from Braden.
Jonas chuckled. There was no mirth to the sound, only mocking
knowledge.
"The Breeds have been searching for a cure for more than five years," he
said. "There's a ban on this information, Miss Fields. Breaking that ban
could and would endanger more lives than just yours or Braden's. It also
comes with a rather stiff penalty."
"Oh yeah, I'm just going to run right out and call a press conference,"
she bit out. "Can the orders, Mr. Wyatt, I'm not in the mood for them."
His eyes narrowed. "For a woman whose abilities cause her to be too
frightened to join the real world, you can be rather confrontational, Miss
Fields." There was nothing kind about the tight smile that shaped his thin
lips.
"Enough, Jonas." Braden's voice was a hard rumble as he shifted from
his position against the far wall and stood straight, tense.
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He didn't want her, so why protest if another man dared to speak
sharply to her? Why protest anything about her period?
"Did I ask for your help?" she snapped before Jonas could speak. She
ignored the frown that lowered his brows and had his gold eyes glittering
in warning.
"You don't have to ask,'' Braden growled, as though he had rights. As
though she were some sort of responsibility now.
"Oh yeah, that's right." She wrinkled her nose sarcastically. "You're my
big bad mate now." She gave an exaggerated shiver. "I should be all
grateful or something, shouldn't I?"
"Or something," he muttered, eyeing her warily.
"Yeah, especially considering just how enthusiastic you were once Mr.
Wyatt here let us in on the secret of that great kiss you're packing. Gee,
maybe we should bottle that stuff, Braden. It would sell better than the
plastic Breed teeth."
She was aware of Jonas watching the confrontation with interest. If she
hadn't disliked him on sight, she would have certainly disliked him now.
That, added to the anger rising inside her, wasn't helping her attitude in
the least.
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"Your mate has a smart mouth, Braden," Jonas commented softly. "You
should work on correcting that."
"Yeah, why don't I just do that for you." Braden grunted as he watched
her carefully.
"Excuse me boys, I'm still in the room here." She waved her hand at
them as she spoke. "The little wornan doesn't need to be spoken over.
This Mating Heat or whatever the hell you want to call it hasn't fried my
brain in the least."
Braden and Jonas both directed fierce frowns toward her. It could have
been cute, if she weren't so pissed off.
"You know, I think I pretty much have the basic information now." She
smiled tightly. "He wants me because his hormones are all jacked up,
that's all. Hey, no biggie. Nature sucks, right?' She smiled brightly,
holding the pain back. "Well, tell you what, Mr. Director of Breed Affairs.
Just load your little golden boy right back up in one of those fancy little
helicopters I hear you boys fly around in and transport him right back to
your nice, secure little compound and see if you can't cure him of it. I'll
do just fine on my own. Just like I always have."
She was furious. She wasn't a damned hormone magnet, and she
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couldn't care less whether Braden liked the effects of some chemical
reaction that was all his fault anyway. She hadn't asked him to mess
with her life, and she would be damned if she would ask him to continue
to be a part of it.
"Just like you always have?' Braden snapped back then, his own voice
heating. "Hiding. Aren't you tired of hiding, Megan?"
"Actually, I think I am." She inhaled roughly, facing the two men as she
tilted her chin and glared back at them.
"But there's one thing you did teach me, Braden. That little shield of
yours is right handy. Given enough time, I'm sure I can copy it. I'm
nothing if not adaptable when I have to be. And I can adapt without you."
He stared back at her as he crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes
slowly narrowing as a hint of predatory calculation entered them.
"Don't dare me, sweetheart," he warned her, his voice soft.
"Dare you?'She shook her head as she retained the tight, sarcastic smile
she had adopted. "I'm not daring you, sweetheart. I'm telling you. I
didn't need you before you began this funky hormone stuff, and I sure
don't need you now."
"May I point out that the Mating Heat is harder on females than males."
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Jonas spoke up at that point, his voice curiously bland. "You may want to
rethink that."
"Did I ask for your opinion?'She turned and stomped toward the door. "If
the two of you will excuse me now, I'll go see if I can repair some of the
damage your inept humor has caused in this office." She gripped the
doorknob, turning back to scowl at Jonas. "One of these days, someone
is going to play this game better than you do, Mr. Wyatt. And when it
happens, I want a ringside seat."
His lips tightened further as he glanced at Braden. "Your mate has a
mean mouth." He growled. "It could get her into trouble."
"I believe it already has,'' she retorted in turn before jerking the door
open and stalking into the hall. The hard reverberation of the slam of the
door was an all-too-brief, satisfying sound as wood cracked against
wood. And a muttered Breed curse was heard from the other side. Let
them curse. As far as she was concerned, she'd had enough.
Braden stared at the door, his head tilted, eyes narrowed. She was
pissed and hurt, and he couldn't blame her a bit. His thoughts and
emotions had been too chaotic to allow her past his shields after that
first instant rejection. He couldn't risk it; not yet.
"The hormonal surges inside her will only make her worse." Jonas
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sighed, his tone more relaxed now.
Braden snorted. "Thanks for the warning. Just what I wanted, my
woman ready to skin me alive. Thanks, Jonas."
"I'm really hoping this Mating shit doesn't become a habit," Jonas said.
"This makes two damned good Enforcers I've lost to it. Tarek Jordan
didn't resign due to injuries as his file states. The son of a bitch mated
his neighbor. Can you believe that? Send a man on a mission and the
next thing you know, he's Mating the little sexpot next door. Now this."
He shook his head with an edge of irritation.
"Worry more about why I shouldn't kick your ass for pissing her off,"
Braden growled, pushing his fingers through his hair as he breathed out
roughly. "Damn, you could have at least tried a little tact here."
Braden could only shake his head at that point. The Director of Breed
Affairs was known for his manipulations and carefully calculated games.
He wasn't known for his mercy or his compassion.
"Fine. You made sure my life was a little harder for the next few days.
Surely that wasn't the only reason you came out here today?'He
shrugged his shoulders restlessly, trying to forget the implication that
sex could be coming. He was dying to touch Megan, to claim her, to
mark her. Mating Heat be damned. She was his woman; he had just
hoped to ease her into that fact.
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"Not hardly." Jonas moved to the desk, sitting on the edge of it casually
as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"The printout definitely came from here; our little Coyote buddy assured
us of that. He's alive, by the way."
Braden arched his brow. He hadn't expected that.
"It's not easy but that boy talks when it matters. I'll let him live until he's
not talking anymore."
"Do you know who printed the schedule?'Braden was determined that
the bastard who had betrayed Megan would pay.
"I have it narrowed down. Unfortunately, Sheriff Jacobs was on the short
list. The other two were Lenny Blanchard and Deputy Jose Jensen. I'm
having a tail put on them; we'll have answers soon."
"Blanchard doesn't seem the sort." Braden shook his head slowly,
thinking of the friendly desk sergeant.
"Those are usually the ones that make me the most nervous,'' Jonas
growled. "Watch your ass. I can't spare a team out here yet, Braden, or
I'd have one covering you, you know that. But I'm working on
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something, so hopefully, I'll have a team soon. In the meantime, I'll get
an investigation started on the two deputies and see what I can find out."
Braden nodded at that.
"And now for the biggie." Jonas smiled with too much enjoyment. "You
and the missus have tests to undergo. Think we can talk her into
cooperating?"
Braden dropped his head. Cooperation? Megan? Now?
"One of these days, one of your Enforcers will end up killing you, Jonas."
He snarled as he lifted his head and dropped his arms. "And I'll be
damned if I'm not there to see it."
Jonas chuckled at the sentiment. "Hold that thought, buddy." He smiled
with all appearances of looking forward to it. "It's been a while since I've
had a good fight; I think I'd enjoy the challenge."
And there lay the problem. Jonas was rarely challenged.
He played where he could, never in a manner that endangered his
Enforcers, but in ways that made them willing to kill him. At the
moment, Braden understood the sentiment and he was certain Megan
did as well.
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She was hurting. He had felt it when she stormed out of the office, and
as much as that worried him, it also sent a surge of satisfaction
thrumming through his senses. The key to Megan was in touching her
emotions, her heart.
She was fiercely independent, determined to make a difference, even if it
was only in her own little comer of the world. She was a fighter, one of
the finest alpha females he had ever laid his eyes on. With a bit more
training, and the right shields, she would make a hell of an Enforcer. He
turned his gaze to Jonas, wondering how his commander would take
having a non-Breed on the payroll.
Jonas scowled back at him. "What?"
"She would make a hell of an Enforcer." He kept his voice low; God help
him if Megan heard him plotting her life out. "You don't have to lose an
Enforcer, Jonas, you can gain one instead."
Jonas's eyes narrowed. "She's not a Breed."
"She's an Empath. And her gun collection is better than mine." He
snorted at the description. Unfortunately, he knew there was a risk. Her
weapons collection rocked. "But even more than that, even if she weren't
my mate, she's still my woman. I won't leave her behind." And he
couldn't give up the fight. Bringing down the remnants of the Council and
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the Pure-Blood societies was too important.
"You're not fighting the Mating." Jonas settled himself more comfortably
on the desk's edge as Braden watched him carefully. "She didn't seem
pleased."
Braden sighed wearily. "I don't like having decisions taken away from
me, Jonas, even by nature. I knew she was mine, but I hadn't decided
how to convince her yet. This complicated things. She felt the rejection
of the idea of the Mating and now she's pissed. But she'll get over it."
She wouldn't have a choice.
Braden stood still as Jonas continued to stare back at him. He had that
habit, as though he could see into a man's soul and gauge his worth. For
most it was disconcerting; for those who worked with him and fought
beside him on a daily basis it was a comfort.
"Okay." He nodded sharply. "Build her defenses and her shields. And
training her is your responsibility. I'll leave it to you."
Now, he just had to convince Megan.
As a silence descended between them, the door snapped open and Lance
Jacobs stalked back into his office.
"Get the hell out of here," Lance snapped when he spied Jonas sitting on
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his desk. He then turned to Braden. "Megan is in her office, but if you're
not careful you'll be hoofing it back to the house tonight." There was no
compassion in his voice whatsoever.
"I know where your mate gets her streak of mean from now," Jonas
grunted to Braden as he slowly straightened from the desk. "It's
hereditary."
"You just keep believing that," Lance muttered as he moved behind his
desk and took his seat. Slouching back in the chair, he watched both
men with calculated interest. "She's going to fight you every breath," he
informed them after several moments passed. "And you can put a ban
on whatever the hell you want to, Jonas, that's my damned cousin your
messing with. She's close enough to be a sister. Don't think because she
lives in that desert alone that her family won't back her. Every damned
one of us."
"Right down to the Special Forces uncles? Jonas arched his brow as
Braden smothered a sigh.
"Especially those." Lance's smile was tight, merciless. "Remember that.
And while you're at it, get your asses out of my department; I'm damned
sick of dealing with Breeds."
That seemed to be the general consensus of anyone dealing with Jonas.
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Braden stayed silent, watchful, measuring the sheriff as he scowled back
at Jonas. The man had an unusual air about him, at once old and young.
He had seen pain, he had known death, and he had come back, wary,
bitter. Braden knew his past, knew his file down to the last detail, but
sometimes one could read much more in eyes that stared back from a
weary expression.
"I'll head back to Sanctuary." Jonas nodded abruptly, drawing Braden's
attention from the sheriff. "Let me know when you're ready for me to
return with Elyiana."
The tests. The very same ones he suspected Megan would fight like a
rabid wild cat.
"I should know something soon." Braden nodded before heading to the
door.
As he stepped into the hall, he clearly heard Jonas's last warning
comment to the sheriff.
"We'll be talking again soon, Jacobs. Very soon."
And Braden wondered just what the hell the Director of Breed Affairs had
up his sleeve now.
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Chapter Ten
Megan stalked into the house and up the stairs more than an hour later.
She heard the back door open behind her.
She had known Braden would be coming in soon, knew she had to face
him eventually. But not yet. She couldn't force herself to stay, to face
the rejection she felt in Lance's office. To see in his eyes the anger that
surged through him at the knowledge that they were bound together in
ways she could have never imagined.
She had left the office without him, sneaking from the building and
rushing to her Raider. She hadn't expected to be greeted by the sleek
black heli-jet Jonas had flown in on, or to see Braden as he lounged
against the side of the house waiting on her.
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Mating Heat. Adrenaline rushed through her at the thought, sending her
heart racing and, unfortunately, her womb clenching. Whatever it was, it
had bound her to him. She had felt it from that first moment they met,
the aura that surrounded her, calmed her. The arousal that tormented
her. The kiss that left her weak, hungry for his taste. Cinnamon and
brown sugar.
She could almost taste it on her lips, her tongue. Craved it, had been
craving it since he had kissed her the night before.
The heat that filled her sex was driving her crazy. She clenched her
thighs against it, determined to hold back that particular need. She had
never just rolled willy-nilly into bed with any man and she would be
damned if she was going to start with Braden.
At least, not right at this moment.
She slammed her bedroom door closed before stalking to the wide
window at the end of her bed. She swiped at the tears that dampened
her cheeks. The drive from the sheriff's office had left her alone just long
enough for her to lose control of her emotions. She knew she needed to
be stronger than this. But it hurt. For the first time since her talents had
shown themselves she had been able to be close to a man. She could
feel his arms around her and had known only his heat and hardness, not
his nightmares or his fears. She had begun to hope that it meant
something.
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How stupid. A cynical, weary breath accompanied the thought. She
should have known better. Life didn't work like that. And now she was
bound to a man who had rejected the bond that she had felt growing
between them. It had a name. Mating Heat. It wasn't natural, or so
Jonas claimed; but her heart had other ideas. And the blow to her
emotions that Braden's rejection had caused had shredded her control.
She flinched as her door opened, her breath hitching, another tear falling
as she felt him enter the room.
"Megan." His voice was soft, regretful. "I know what you felt at the
office. It wasn't you. It wasn't a denial of you. You have to understand
that."
She hated the fact that she had given away her pain, revealed how much
that single impression had affected her. How much she had hoped the
feelings building between them were more than just lust. For her they
were, and that hurt the most, knowing they hadn't been for him.
"It doesn't matter, Braden." She fought to swallow past the emotion
blocking her throat and kept her back to him, her tears hidden. "I
understand."
His life was a battle, day to day. Why would he want or need someone
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who couldn't fight her own battles, let alone stand beside him in his?
"Do you, Megan? I don't think you do, but you will. Very soon."
"Stop." Her voice broke as she shook her head.
She could feel him moving closer, could glimpse the image of him in the
glass of the window. "Please Braden, I need time_" Her shoulders shook
as she fought the sobs that built in her chest. "I'm sorry. Please_"
"So you can continue to hide?’ His tone grated at her already shredded
nerves.
"Yes!" She whirled around, staring back at him with a look that mingled
fury and pain. "So I can hide. So it doesn't have to hurt so fucking bad."
Anything else she would have said locked in her throat the second she
saw his eyes. They glowed. Amber lights flickered in the deep gold color
as his tight, hungry expression gave his face a savage cast. He looked
like a conquering warrior. A man intent on possession.
She stepped back quickly.
"Now there's a fine idea," he drawled as he stepped closer. "Keep a bit of
distance between us, darlin', because the closer you get, the sweeter
that soft little pussy smells and the harder my dick gets. You really don't
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want to make it harder. Any harder and I'm going to have to do away
with these jeans and see just how deep I can push between those pretty
thighs and how loud I can make you scream as you come around me."
The explicit words sent heat flaming through her body as invisible fingers
of lightning began to course from nerve ending to nerve ending,
sensitizing her, stoking the fires inside her hotter. She felt the wet heat
dampening her panties further.
"Why?’ she cried out then. "You don't want me. You don't want this_"
She waved her hand between them to indicate the Mating Heat. "Why do
you care?"
"You like fooling yourself, don't you, baby." He stepped closer. Megan
retreated. Now was not a good time to get within touching distance.
"Now see, that's where you are entirely wrong. I wasn't rejecting you,
Megan. I was rejecting what nature had done, not you. There is no
reason for your anger."
She lifted her chin defensively. "I have a right to be angry with you. You
were using me in those cliffs, using my Empathy to find the answers you
needed just as you let Jonas use me to try to trap my cousin. Just as you
used what I_" Felt. She wouldn't say the words, wouldn't address the
pain of his rejection.
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His gaze flickered with regret; the emotion washed over her, clenching
her chest as another tear slipped free.
He shook his head slowly, his hand reaching out to touch her cheek, his
fingertips rasping over her flesh with heated pleasure.
"I would never use you." His voice throbbed with the vow. "I have been
alone so long, Megan. Alone within myself, knowing, feeling that nothing
in this world was ever meant to be mine. Then suddenly something was
mine. You were mine." The possessive tone had her blinking back at him
in surprise. Both his hands framed her face, holding her still as his
thumbs smoothed over her damp cheeks. "Mine. Everything inside me
locked down in fear because suddenly I had something to lose. And so
did you. And the thought of that was unbearable. I've lost too much
already."
Her lips parted as her heart began to race, not in lust or excitement or
adventure, but in hope. She had found someone who matched her, a
warrior and a shield. A man she could respect; one she could argue with
and enjoy. She hadn't wanted to lose that. Hadn't wanted to be alone
again.
"No"
"Yes." He snarled, emotion thickening his voice. "Do you not understand
yet, Megan? This Mating is not just a physical phenomenon. It is not
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merely chemicals gone haywire. Look inside yourself. If you could love
any type of man, lean on any other person, who would this person be?
Who is the lover that haunts your dreams? What fight boils in your
blood? We would have been two parts of a whole, no matter who we
were or where we met. You know this. Just as I know this."
She clenched her teeth, fighting the surging emotion of the realization he
was right, but also recalling the denial she knew he had felt earlier. She
had something to lose.
"See?’ He latched onto the emotion she couldn't hide, his fingers pressing
against her scalp as his taut features became more primitive, more
exotic for the emotions he was fighting to contain. "Feel it, Megan. Feel
what I knew. My soul would die without yours to fill it. Without you to
hold me close in the darkness of night; without your laughter to bring
the light into the darkness that has filled every fucking day of my life for
as long as I have drawn breath. For the first time in thirty-four years I
am alive. I live because of you, and the thought of going back to the
desolation of being alone scares me to death."
His emotions slammed into her, filling her, heating her.
"Feel me." He groaned, his voice rough, tormented. "I know your gifts,
for mine are their companions. When we battle, I feel you reaching out,
connecting to me as nothing else ever has, feeding me what you know
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even as you draw on my strength to brace yourself against the pain. You
are the Empath, I am the shield. Two parts of the whole, Megan."
He released her then, stepping back to stare at her with such an excess
of emotion that she could barely breathe, let alone speak. "This was
what I tried to deny, to reject, even knowing that if I lost you, no matter
how, my soul would be as dead as the Coyotes who search only for blood
and for death."
He released her, only to pull out of his shirt pocket a small plastic pack
that held several pills. His gaze probed her expression as she lifted her
eyes questioningly.
"And that is?'
"This," he glanced to his palm then to her before his lips twisted with an
edge of bitterness, "is a nifty little drug designed to ease the worst of the
symptoms of the Mating Heat. The pain if you don't get fucked often
enough, as well as the forced conception caused by the hormones
secreted from my body, can become_ harmful. Unfortunately, mating a
Breed isn't always pleasant. Unless you want to get knocked up, you
take the little contraceptive."
"A birth control pill?’ How insane.
"After a fashion." He shrugged, inhaling deeply in a gesture that
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reinforced the excess of emotions that were filling them both. "Though
the hormones in it are radically different than those once used on the
drug market. These are more to block the hormone released from me,
rather than those of your body."
"So why aren't you taking it?’ She glared at him furiously.
"Because, darling, I'm not the one who will suffer if you don't conceive.
You are. The Mating Heat builds until conception occurs. The hormone
continues to grow within your body, overriding everything else but the
need to have sex and to procreate. This will ease the symptoms as well
prevent ovulation. So make your choice."
"Will it make it go away?' She continued to stare at the innocuous little
pill. Was it the cure she had so rashly demanded?
"Nothing will make it go away." He didn't sound displeased. "Ever. But it
will give us a chance to figure the rest out, Megan. We were well on the
road to where this is going anyway."
She raised her gaze, staring back at him for long, silent moments.
"You would have rode off into the sunset the moment your job here was
finished."
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He gripped her hand and laid the small container in her palm. "No
Megan, I would not have left you. For even a day. Now take the little pill,
baby, and then we'll talk more. Eventually."
He was going to take her to bed first. She knew it. Just as she knew her
next breath would be filled with the scent of him, she knew that the
moment that pill passed her lips he would make his move.
"Braden." She licked her lips trying to still her nerves. "It's been a very,
very long time for me."
To be honest, she hadn't attempted sex in years.
"Take the fucking pill," he growled then. "I've tortured myself with the
thought of touching you, of feeling you hot and tight around me. It's all
I've thought about since the moment I saw your courage in that damned
cavern. I don't know if I can wait much longer."
Evidently, she wasn't the only one the Mating Heat was driving insane.
She snapped open the container, her breathing becoming harsh, rough.
"I still don't like this,'' she informed him as she lifted the small blue pill.
Though she knew different. She hated the situation, hated the confusion
filling her, but she knew her feelings for Braden were something that
went much deeper, flowed much stronger than anything even resembling
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"liking" him.
He growled in response.
"This is not the smartest thing I've ever done." She opened her lips as
she lifted her hand closer to her mouth.
His eyes flared with sensual promise as she laid the small pill on her
tongue, closed her mouth, and swallowed.
It went down easy, without the aid of liquid, no doubt helped along by
the intense watering of her mouth.
The growl rumbled in his chest again. Feline. Dangerous. It was a sound
that had her pussy clenching in spasmodic convulsions. She gasped at
the intensity.
"How long does it take to help?" She watched him, knowing there was no
fighting the hunger as he stepped closer. She retreated again. And
again. Until her back came flush to the wall, his broad chest trapping her
against it.
"Hell if I know," he muttered. "Hell if I care, as long as I can do this."
She expected a kiss. What she didn't expect was the abrupt lowering of
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his head until his lips were at her neck, his teeth scraping over the flesh
as his tongue stroked it in a sensual caress. She went to her tiptoes; the
sensations were so intense, so filled with pleasure.
Shudders raced down her spine, spread between her thighs and seared
her to the very core. She felt the syrupy dampness wetting her further,
felt her clit pulse and throb with the need for his touch as her nipples
tightened beneath her blouse. God, how she needed his touch.
Everywhere, all over. She craved it. Ached for it.
Her head fell back against the wall; her hands gripped his forearms as
his fingers curved at her hips, arching her against him as he bent to
press the hard wedge of his cock against the soft pad of her pussy.
She jerked at the friction, a whimpering moan escaping her lips as her
nerve endings seemed to sear with the flames of building passion. She
couldn't get enough air. Hell, she didn't need to breathe. If he would just
kiss her, touch her, still the ache growing in every cell of her body, then
she might have a chance of surviving.
"Damn, you taste good." His voice was filled with wonder as he caught
the lobe of her ear between his lips for a brief nip. "Sweet and hot. You
make me wonder if I'll keep my sanity once I push inside you."
Her sanity wasn't going to last that long.
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Chapter Eleven
"You're so soft, Megan." The sound of his voice, the rough growl that
whispered over her senses made her lose control. His hand moved from
her hip to rest just beneath the swell of her breast. The subtle stroking
of his fingers there had her breathing faster, her nerve endings
sensitizing, reaching out for his heat. Sensations whipped through her
body, tendrils of electricity flickered over her, holding her entranced as
his fingers curled in the fabric of her shirt and began dragging it upward.
She stared up at him, fighting past her dazed senses and the need for
his kiss as she felt cool air meet the bare flesh of her stomach. He was
taking her shirt off, lifting it slowly as his tongue stroked her lips, the
taste of cinnamon and brown sugar tempting her.
"Braden." She was shaking, her breasts so swollen, so sensitive that the
thought of him touching them stole her breath. Never had arousal been
so intense or pleasure so fiery.
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"Yes, baby?’ The hungry growl weakened her knees as she felt the shirt
lift slowly over the material of her bra.
"Kiss me." Her hands still gripped his forearms, even as they rose, his
hands lifting her arms before whisking the material of her shirt over her
head.
"I will." He nipped at her lips. "I promise. But not yet. I want you to feel
this first. I want you to know it. To know you need it, hunger for it,
before I kiss you."
"You kissed me last night." She panted roughly as he caught her hands
and lifted them, holding her wrists in one hand and stretching them
above her head as the other flipped open the latch of her bra. "Braden."
She fought to breathe as she felt the material part, the lace scraping
against her sensitive nipples. He stared down at her with narrowed eyes.
"One kiss." He growled, his head lowering. "That was just one kiss."
He smoothed the material from the swollen mounds, making certain to
rasp it over the burning tips of her nipples as she cried out at the
sensation. Wicked forks of fire shot from the heated tips to her womb,
stealing her breath, her mind, as she trembled at the caress. Her eyes
closed, her body jerking in sensory overload as she felt his breath
whisper over the tips.
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"So pretty," His voice was like dark, midnight-velvet, rough and sensual.
"The softest pink in the world. Innocent pink. Are you a virgin, Megan?"
She shook her head desperately.
"Thank God for that." His voice echoed with relief, with an erotic hunger
that stole her breath. "Because I don't know if I would have the control
to take you as you deserved if you were that innocent. And God knows it
would kill me to hurt you."
His tongue licked over her nipple with just a hint of roughness. It was
enough to have her arching against him, her pussy convulsing as heated
liquid flowed from it. She twisted in his grip, desperate to get closer, to
feel the moist caress just one more time. When it came she nearly
screamed. His lips covered the tender peak, drawing it into the furnace
of his mouth as he began to suckle her. His tongue flickered over it like a
wild flame as a hungry growl echoed around her. Heat raged around her,
through her, ripped through her womb and exploded through her body
as he sucked at her breast, nipped at her nipple, and tortured her with a
pleasure she could not have imagined existed.
"Braden" Her hips arched against the wedge of his cock as his knees
bent and he thrust against her jeans covered mound.
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She could feel him, thick, hard. Between layers of clothing he burned
her, stole reason and pushed her closer to a mindless abyss of pleasure.
His tongue flickered over her straining nipple as he bent to her, suckling
at her with a slow, easy rhythm.
"I can smell you." His voice was almost reverent, his lips drawing her
gaze, the swollen curves heavy, sensual.
"As sweet as a spring rain, as hot as fire. I want to taste you, Megan."
She swallowed, certain she wouldn't survive the overload of pleasure.
She stood still, staring back at him, trembling as he released the snap of
her jeans and lowered the zipper slowly.
"Kick your shoes off."
Megan moved to toe the sneakers from her feet, forcing her legs to obey
the simple commands as his head lowered, his lips caressing her
collarbone, his teeth scraping it.
"Good girl," he crooned when the shoes were pushed aside.
Slowly he lowered her arms, releasing her wrists as he placed her hands
against his lower stomach. He gripped the T-shirt he wore and jerked it
over his head, staring back at her intently.
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"Undo my jeans." He growled.
"Braden." Her hands trembled as the heat of his flesh soaked through
her palms. "I can't think." She shook her head weakly, fighting to make
sense of the needs tearing through her, the lust so unfamiliar, so much
stronger than anything else she had ever known.
"Then don't think, baby." His hands cupped her face before moving to
her hair, pulling at the length of her braid. "You undo the pants, I'll
release the braid. Such soft, pretty hair. I want to feel it brushing over
me, Megan, caressing me."
Her fingers gripped the snap of his jeans. God, she had never even done
this before. It came loose easily, sliding from its mooring as his abdomen
flexed with a convulsive shudder.
"The zipper now." The nylon band that held her hair came free.
The feel of his fingers unwinding the thick ropes of hair made her eyes
close, her fingers moving to the zipper. Beneath it, his cock throbbed,
thick and warm; it waited beneath the material for freedom. Pulsed in
eagerness.
She gripped the tab of the zipper, lowering it, easing it over the straining
length of his erection. Her thighs clenched against the ravenous need,
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the hunger burning her alive.
"There you go." Her hair was free and so was his cock. Thick, hard, the
material of his jeans parted over the straining length as his hands moved
to her jeans, pushing at the material and quickly moving it over her hips
to her knees.
"Lift." He gripped her thigh, forcing her to lift her leg from the material
before repeating it on the other.
All that protected her now were her panties. Wet, sodden silk that clung
to her flesh as her knees weakened dangerously.
Gasping, her hands gripped Braden's shoulders; as he bent and lifted her
into his arms. She could feel the strength in his powerful arms, feel the
need that held him in its grip as firmly as it held her.
His expression was tight, his eyes gleaming with hunger. But even more,
she felt tenderness despite the obvious savage need ripping through
him. She felt his determination to hold her, to gentle her, felt his fear of
hurting her. The wash of emotions was intense, all consuming. The
ability to feel what her lover felt during sex was one of the reasons she
had abstained for so long. The powerful mix of lust, triumph and selfsatisfaction
had turned the act into something to be avoided rather than
experienced.
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With Braden it was different. As his tongue twined with hers, she could
feel the incredible control he was exerting over himself. Just as she could
feel his needs. The images flickered through her mind, explicit, erotic.
She moaned, her own hunger increasing as he laid her back on the bed.
He bent and removed his boots quickly, then straightened to push his
jeans over long, powerful thighs. His body appeared completely hairless.
Even the heavy sac beneath the length of his erection looked smooth,
impossibly sexy.
As he stood before her, staring down at her, she could feel the blood
pumping through her body, adrenaline and lust flaming beneath her flesh.
"It hurts." Her womb flexed as the muscles tightened in her vagina. "It's
not supposed to hurt, Braden."
Fear mixed with desire as the implications of what was happening began
to hit her. Uncontrolled hunger beat at her like the wings of a frightened
bird as she felt her pussy spasming with a greedy lust she couldn't
control.
"Not for much longer," he promised sensually as he lay on his side next
to her. He leaned over her as he eased her into his embrace, one hand
stroking her thigh. "I promise it won't hurt much longer.
His lips slanted over hers as she felt his hand moving closer to the
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soaked material of the panties. Felt his fingers caress the damp material
as he growled fiercely. She was flaming, burning. Her thighs parted for
him as her hips lifted, pushing closer, needing more.
Suddenly the fierce control that held him back snapped. She felt it,
gloried in it even as she feared it. The sound of the panties ripping from
her body was accompanied by her own desperate moan as his fingers
touched her, parted the swollen lips and slid through the thick cream
that covered them.
Her hips bucked, a moan tearing from her throat as his finger circled the
tender opening, caressing her, teasing her with his touch a second
before he began to enter her. She felt the rasp of his calloused finger as
she writhed in his grip. Her vaginal muscles tightened around it, begging
for more.
Within seconds there was more. Another finger joined the first, working
in slowly, stretching her, preparing her for more. Her hands were buried
in his hair as she drank in his kiss, his taste. The sweet taste of the
destructive hormone blazed within her, sending her senses careening
with a pleasure she could never have imagined possible.
Her thighs parted farther, her hips moving against his hand as her clit
grazed against his palm, sending fireworks blazing through her nerve
endings. She was close. Oh God, she was so close.
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"Not yet." The fierce growl came as he tore his lips from hers and slid his
fingers from the tight, wet clasp of her body.
"Don't don't you dare stop." She reached for him, fighting against the
powerful hand that once again gripped her wrists as he began to move
from her.
"Stay still, Megan." His voice was a whiplash of demand and furious lust.
"For God's sake, don't start fighting."
He pushed her legs apart as he held her still, moving between them
before shockingly lowering his head to the slick, swollen folds of her sex.
His tongue swiped through her tender flesh as a growl of pleasure tore
from his throat and her hips drove upwards involuntarily. He released
her wrists, only to grip her hips and hold her still as his tongue circled
her clit before moving lower to lap at the liquid heat flowing from her
body.
So close. Her thighs tightened as the wicked tongue moved over her
flesh, his destructive lips sucking her clit between them. He flicked at it
with his tongue before moving lower, lifting her, and then driving inside
the greedy depths of her body and triggering an explosion that had her
screaming in release. Her body tightened, arched further as her head fell
back, her lips opening as cries tore from her throat.
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As though he had been waiting just for that, Braden came quickly to his
knees, lifted her closer then tucked the head of his cock at the suckling
mouth of her vagina before beginning to move inside.
Megan shuddered beneath him as she felt him begin to stretch her. Felt
each slow thrust and retreat as he began to work his erection into the
convulsing sheath. It was too much sensation. Violent flares of pleasure
tore through her body with each inch pressed into her. She stared up at
his face in dazed fascination.
His lips were pulled back from his teeth, his head thrown back as the
muscles of his neck flexed powerfully.
His hair flowed around him as perspiration gleamed over his body. His
hips worked slowly, pushing forward, drawing back, stealing her breath
as another inch of her pussy was conquered with each forward motion.
Desperately, her hands clenched in the blankets beneath her as her
whimpers again turned to cries and muttered, senseless pleas.
Fireworks were exploding inside her, searing each nerve ending, burning
tender flesh as he worked deeper inside her.
"More." She was gasping for breath as she made the order, her body
demanding that he hurry. "Please, Braden. It's not enough. More."
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His snarl filled the heavy, lust-filled air of the room as his hips rolled,
pushing him further inside her. Yet it wasn't enough. Hungry greed
echoed in her clenching vagina, which spasmed with sensation as her
juices spilled around his flesh.
"Dammit, if you're going to fuck me then do it," she cried. "Stop teasing
me to death_"
She cried out a second later as he drove home, burying the hard length
of his cock inside her.
Control was a thing of the past. There was nothing now but the drive to
release, the need to still the burning hunger raging through her. Her hips
lifted with no urging from his hands. Her cunt milked at the driving flesh,
tightening around him, flexing, pulsing as each stroke drove her higher,
sent her flying until her orgasm slammed through her. It jerked her
shoulders from the bed as her hands gripped his arms, her eyes staring
into his as he drove home again. Harder. Deeper. A tight, almost painful
grimace twisted his expression as she felt the head of his cock throb,
swell further, then…
Horror swept across his face as she felt the change. The swelling of the
already thick crest, the extension reaching out, locking into the back of
the pulsing muscles that gripped him, feathering inside her, pressing
firmly into a spot that sent sensation crashing through her mind.
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The new orgasm it triggered was too much to bear. She auld only
convulse. She slammed back to the bed, her body jerking, her cries
pleading whimpers of insensible words as she heard his roar, felt the
hard, hot blasts of semen spewing inside her and the hot kiss of the flesh
lock him to her.
Megan stared up at him, her eyes wide, her gaze locked with Braden's
glittering, golden depths as she felt the odd pressure pressing into the
too-sensitive flesh high in her pussy. Emotions whipped from him into
her. Distant, scatttered thoughts that slipped into her now-open mind as
she felt her strange connection with him become deeper.
Stronger.
Barb.
Bonded.
Locked together.
Possession. Raging, intense, soul-jarring possession.
He stared back at her in tortured disbelief.
Animal.
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The thought was filled with pain and self-disgust. And it wasn't her
thought. It came from him. From the deepest, darkest reaches of his
soul.
She felt her lips curve, her smile weak, though tinted with the small
shred of amusement that began to fill her.
"I like your animal" she whispered, her voice strained as another
shudder of orgasmic pleasure tore through her body. "My animal"
Chapter Twelve
There was nothing like the morning after. Braden stood on the back
porch watching the sun come up, a mug of coffee steaming in his hand
as he stared at the mountains in the distance. He could feel the eyes
watching the house.
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Friendly and enemy alike. He knew there was at least one team of
Felines watching over them, but he was certain there was a Coyote in
the midst somewhere.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the fresh air of a new day wash
over him, through him. The tint of malevolence wasn't strong. There was
just a hint of the danger, of the evil stalking them. Not close enough to
matter, but out there all the same.
As he sipped from the coffee mug and scanned the area searching for
the most likely spot in the ridged hills surrounding them for the Coyotes
to hide themselves. Jonas had sent the maps and aerial shots of the land
through the secure satellite connection the laptop used. The most likely
spots had been marked, though the team scouring the cliffs and hidden
caverns had yet to find any sign of the Coyotes. There were just too
many damned places to hide.
At the moment, he almost wished he were sitting in one of them.
He could hear Megan in the kitchen, muttering to herself as she went
over the files. Again. The laptop sat on the kitchen table, the database of
Felines and available information open to her. There would be no keeping
her out of it now. As his mate, she would have to adapt, to learn how to
live the often violent, rarely secure lives they led.
His mate. His body had certainly reinforced that sentiment. The memory
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of the pleasure and the shock of the barb emerging from his cock the
night before still had him grasping for understanding. For acceptance.
He pushed his fingers through his hair restlessly, fighting to ignore the
throb of his erection behind the material of his jeans. It refused to ease.
And he'd be damned if he would take her again without her asking.
Without some sign that she wasn't sickened by what had happened the
night before.
Not that she had appeared sickened by it. But a woman on the edge of
unconsciousness couldn't very well be trusted to be truthful. She had
given in to exhaustion moments later, her body relaxing in his arms even
as her tight heat held him captive within her.
"Braden, what the hell is an A Force?" she called out in frustration. "You
really need a directory here."
He winced at the question. He was a part of A Force.
"Assassin, Megan." He kept his voice tempered, hiding the irritability
feeding him now.
Silence filled the air as his lips twisted in knowing mockery. He turned
and stared through the open door before stepping back into the house
and securely closing the panel. She was staring at the monitor, her
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hands lying gracefully on the keypad while she went through the
thumbnail pictures displayed and the stats given.
"Fourteen marks, three waste points," she recited the statistics. "What
does that mean?"
"Fourteen kills, three of which were innocent marks I was unable to
save." He no longer tormented himself over the three he had been
unable to maneuver out of the line of fire.
"Three." Her voice was raspy, uncertain. And who the hell could blame
her? This wasn't exactly a woman's dream of happily ever after.
"Three." He nodded as he moved back to the coffeepot. "The files are
there, Megan. If you have questions, read them."
Maybe the fact of who he was would distract her from what he was.
He was careful to keep his senses open, to catch any hint of
condemnation that could come from her. He felt none. He felt confusion,
anger, but no accusation. Finally he turned to her, watching her curiously.
Her emotions were as easy to read on her face as they were in the air
around her. She would be easy for the Coyotes to find if she were caught
in a situation that required her to hide not just her physical self, but her
mental self as well. The animal senses were rapier-sharp in all Breeds.
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Picking up on emotions was nearly as easy as using scent to guide them.
How she had managed to surprise them the day they attacked her home,
he had no idea. She was confused, aroused, and hurting. Surprisingly
enough, the hurt seemed to be for him, not because of him.
"You didn't write the reports." Her eyes were moving over the page as
she clicked on the details.
He tilted his head, watching her intently. "How do you know?"
She shrugged. "I can tell. It's too graphic. Too focused on the fact that
you didn't kill savagely enough." She lifted her eyes, the blue orbs dark
with pain.
His lips twisted at her last words. His Trainer had written the reports,
and in each, Braden knew the emphasis on his apparent mercy had been
notated. Braden would have been canceled eventually, and he knew it,
simply because he could not force an illusion of satisfaction in killing.
"I regret their deaths, not my actions," he assured her. "I did what I had
to do to protect others. To protect myself. Those of us who survived
realized early on that we would only do so by being smarter than those
who created and attempted to train us."
"The three innocents?" He watched her swallow tightly, saw the
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compassion in her gaze. It soothed him, even when he felt he deserved
no ease for those deaths.
"A scientist who attempted to break away from the Council. He escaped
with a newly born Breed babe and attempted to reach someone within
the media. He was killed, though the child was never recovered. Also, an
Interpol agent investigating one of the European scientists, as well as his
contact, the young son of one of the Council members."
He kept his voice cool, his manner distant. He had done what he had to
in his battle to survive. "If I hadn't killed them, if I hadn't performed as
ordered, others would have died. If a Breed failed, then his closest
littermates died as well. If he didn't return, then every Breed within his
assigned Lab was murdered and the facility shut down."
He clenched his jaw as he remembered the bonds of loyalty and the fight
to survive that had tethered them during those times.
"Loyalty," she whispered.
Braden inclined his head slowly. "Foolish perhaps, but the majority of us
were born with a sense of bonding, of loyalty to those we considered
littermates. There was no breaking it."
"Did you try?’ He saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes and felt his heart
clench at the emotion reaching out to him. There was no pity, but there
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was pain. For him. For those he had fought to protect.
"I tried." He nodded slowly. "Each mission. I had a plan in place; I could
have escaped. I could have found safety for myself." He grimaced at the
thought. "The others wouldn't have died easily, and I knew it. I couldn't
be the reason for it. My own death would have been preferable. As long
as we lived, there was always a chance of survival, of finding a way to
save the others as well."
"I thought the Council frowned upon loyalty and friendship between the
Breeds?’ He could feel her searching for clarification, for understanding.
"They punished us severely for it." He pushed his hands into the pockets
of his jeans as he leaned against the wall, his lips tilting mockingly. "We
were created to murder, to revel in any blood we could spill. We were
their disposable soldiers, their robots if you will. Animals who could pose
as humans and could strike with deadly force. We weren't created for
loyalty, but the scientists and trainers knew it existed. There was no way
for us to hide it entirely."
Tears shimmered in her eyes before she turned away from him, the
compassion that filled them clenched his heart. She had forced herself to
be so strong, enduring alone for so many years. But he could feel her
now, reaching out to him, a warmth that eased into his soul and relieved
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the bleak chill of his memories.
She moved from the table quickly, hitting the power button on the laptop
to abruptly disconnect the pages she had pulled up. Her face was pale,
her body tight with tension.
"It doesn't do any good to run from it, Megan. You knew our lives
weren't exactly happy hour," he pointed out calmly when he wanted
nothing more than to smash something, anything. Preferably the
computer that held the incriminating information.
He ached for her. For himself. How horrifying it must be to be bound to a
man you knew could kill you with one thrust into your body. To know he
could stare into your eyes, whisper your greatest fantasy, and murder
you a second later. But it was information she had to have. Secrets she
had to know.
She was his mate. He refused to hide anything from her.
The air thickened with tension, fear and pain whipped around him. Not
through him; his natural blocks were too strong for that. But he felt it,
knew it for what it was.
She turned back to him slowly.
"Do you think I blame you for any of that? she snapped as she flicked
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her fingers to the laptop. "That I would ever believe you had done
anything other than you had to?" Bitterness twisted her lips. "You might
be as arrogant as hell, Braden, but you're not a murderer."
He stared back at her silently, watching as her expression softened, the
militant light of battle slowly fading from her eyes.
"I wish I could ease the memories, the pain." Her whispered admission
surprised him. "I would take the nightmares if I could, Braden."
Shock tore through him as he read the truth in her eyes.
His little Empath, who had hid from the world and from other's
nightmares, was willing to take his in order to ease his pain and accept it
as her own.
"Then you're insane." He growled, feeling his erection swell in his jeans
as he watched her, saw the emotion that filled her gaze and felt it
swirling around him.
Her gaze flickered to it. The scent of her pussy drifted to him, her
arousal growing as adrenaline began surging through her body.
"Yeah, that remark resembles me sometimes." She flashed him a cocky
smile that had his heart aching.
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"Don't romanticize me, Megan." He growled then. She had to know the
truth of the man she was bound to now.
"I'm not a hero, and I'm sure as hell not Superman. I kill, and
sometimes I even enjoy the blood I spill." Council Trainers, their
soldiers_ And one day, he swore, when the main Council members were
found, he would exact his own vengeance.
"No, you're not Superman." She rolled her eyes at him as she propped
her hands on her hips and confronted him with a frown. "But neither are
you a monster. If you want to put distance between us, find another way
to do it."
"Wouldn't you like that," he snapped. "You've been trying to throw me
out since the beginning."
Her eyes widened at the anger he displayed.
"What's with you? " She lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes in
challenge. "You've been fighting to get into my bed and override my
defenses against you since you first met me. Fine, you had me, you bit
me, you mated me. And now dumb little Megan cares one way or the
other if you die. Feeling a little trapped now, are we?"
Braden glowered back at her. He didn't feel trapped, he felt_ off balance.
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Women feared him; even those who came to his bed were wary of
tempting his anger. But Megan accepted him, defended him even when
he couldn't defend his actions himself. She terrified him with her courage
and her ability to accept not just the Mating, but him.
He finally sighed wearily. "I don't feel trapped, Megan."
He felt like snarling at his own helplessness to see her safe from the
threat against her. "You have to know the truth about me. Dealing with
this situation requires that you know who and what I am. Otherwise, you
cannot make the choices you will have to rationally."
"I have a feeling few people deal with you in any kind of rational
manner." She crossed her arms over her breast, the loose T-shirt she
wore riding up the hem of her shorts to flash a tempting strip of flesh.
He wanted to lick it.
"This is possible." He dragged his attention from the bare flesh to reply
to her comment. "I was never considered one of the tamer specimens."
"Why did you pull that up for me to read?’ Her lips thinned in annoyance
and suspicion.
"It's a part of me, Megan." He shrugged. "Part of who I am. If you don't
learn it now, you may have to later. And controlled conditions are always
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best."
"You think you're fooling me. You're not so cold, Braden."
"I'm not?' Actually, there had been times when he had been forced to be
worse.
"You're trying to piss me off,'' she accused him heatedly. "Trying to
make me think you're nothing but a coldblooded killer."
"That's exactly what I am, Megan." There was no sense in hiding the
truth. "Accept that now. You read the reports; you saw the truth of me. I
kill. I track down my prey, and I use whatever means necessary to kill
them quickly and effectively. They have no worth in my eyes.
Understand this now. It's a life you will have to share with me. One you
will have to learn to live within. You are my mate. My fight has now
become yours."
Surprise burned in her expression, just as excitement flowed from her.
"This Mating crap has rotted your brain, Braden." She deliberately
provoked him. He noticed she attempted to do that a lot. One day, he
would have to cure her of that habit. Maybe. "I don't have to do
anything. I do as I please. What's between us won't change that."
She stared back at him defiantly. That defiance made him want to take
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her down. To show her exactly who was the stronger, who controlled.
She belonged to him and she damned well better get used to it.
"You will follow, Megan. I lead." That description was beginning to grate
on his nerves and it was time to put a halt to it.
"Sorry Lion Man, but that's not exactly how it works." She snarled, her
chin lifting defiantly as she stood before him like a spitting little tabby
cat. "This Mating Heat stuff doesn't change that. And while we're on that
subject, just how many different women can you do this to, anyway?"
Braden tensed. He hadn't expected this one, and evidently she had just
thought of it herself. Her eyes widened then narrowed as her lips
tightened in suspicion.
"As far as I know, Breeds mate only once. For life." At least that was the
information he had received. "Just as true lions are known to."
"Real lions have a freakin' harem," she spat out, her eyes glinting
suspiciously. "One male, up to a dozen females."
"They mate only one," he assured her arrogantly. "And pray to Heaven I
follow their example because if I had to deal with another woman even
similar to you, I would go ahead and walk into a den of Coyotes for the
relief. You, Megan, are threatening to destroy any control I have
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managed to learn over the years."
"It better be a one-time deal," she muttered, frustration thick in her
voice as she paced the room once again. "Because I don't share."
Seconds later she stopped, turned to him, and narrowed her eyes. "If
you're such a big-shot assassin, why haven't you tracked down the
people who murdered the Breeds here?"
"First, I need to know who I'm tracking." He grunted. "You keep killing
the suspects, Megan. You can't question what isn't breathing. Out of four
Coyotes sent after you, you've left only one alive. Give me something to
work with here, baby."
She crossed her arms over her breasts. Nice, plump little breasts that fit
his hands exactly. Hard nipples spiked beneath the cloth of her T-shirt
and the scent of her need whipped through his senses like wildfire
burning out of control.
"It's kind of hard to be nice when those assholes are trying to kill me."
She finally shrugged. He had a feeling she had intended to say
something far different.
"Once I learn who is behind it, then I'll go hunting." He kept his relaxed
pose, leaning against the counter, ignoring the almost hidden glances
she made toward the erection straining against his jeans. At this rate,
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his cock would end up bursting the zipper before the day was out.
"Yeah, you do that," she finally muttered, turning away from him to pace
back to the table.
She stood behind the chair, leaning against it as she stared down at the
computer once again. The information there was not what was on her
mind. He could feel her nervousness now, knew what had been coming.
Her subtle glance at the erection straining beneath his jeans warned him
that her attention had now shifted from his killing expertise to other
matters. Those matters weighed heavily on his own mind, and were the
very ones he had wanted to avoid.
"It's called a barb," he informed her coolly, knowing that putting it off
wouldn't make it easier. "But I have a feeling you already knew that."
A deep flush filled her face then, and he swore her nipples tightened
further. They poked against the shirt with the same insistence of his cock
pressed against his jeans.
"Did I ask?’ she snapped, jerking back as she straightened fully and
glared at him.
His shoulders lifted negligently. "I could see it on your face, Megan.
You're so nervous you're about to jump out of your own skin. There's no
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sense beating around the bush or ignoring what happened."
"I could be a little put out that I seem to be stuck with an arrogant knowit-
all assassin intent on pissing me off this morning," she pointed out,
managing to project cool disdain despite her embarrassment. "That
would throw any girl off track, don't you think?"
"Some, perhaps." He tilted his head in acknowledgment as a smile
tugged at his lips. "I think it excites you more than anything else. Your
nipples are hard. Would they get harder if I told you about all the cool
weapons you could play with?"
She breathed in deeply, her expression becoming mutinous as she stared
back at him.
"Oh yeah, blood and guts really just turn me on." She snorted
sarcastically. "I bet yours would do wonders for me."
"It's not my blood you want right now, Megan." He tensed as her gaze
dropped once again, her breathing becoming heavier as her eyes
flickered over his crotch before jerking up once again. "It's a little late for
pretense, baby. That barb might have you nervous as hell, but you want
it. I can smell it."
"I'm going to cut your nose off." She rubbed at her arms before a light
shiver shook her slender frame. It was building in her, just as Jonas had
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said it would. The need to mate, to conceive. For three days to a week
the overwhelming need would be near impossible to deny. After that, the
arousal would be easy to tempt, though the reactions closer to normal.
Nothing would make the barbing disappear. Thank God.
It was the most pleasure he had ever known with a woman.
More pleasure than he had ever given one, even under the influence of
the scientist's drugs.
"I thought your little pill was supposed to fix this." Her voice was
huskier, filled with her heat as it began to climb within her.
"It only eases the harsher effects of the Mating Heat. There will be no
pain if you don't deny the arousal." She might not be in pain, but it was
killing him.
She swallowed tightly as she stared back at him, her gaze mischievous,
hungry. Her high cheekbones blazed with heat as she dampened her
pouty lips with the flick of her pink tongue once again. He wanted to feel
that tongue.
Licking him, stroking him.
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This was his woman; his scent covered her, his seed filled her. His teeth
clenched with his need to mark her. He had denied himself the growing
desire to give her that sensual bite to her neck the night before. Had
fought the impulse with every straining inch of control he possessed.
Today, he would not deny himself.
She licked her lips again, slowly, weighing her options, he thought in
amusement. The woman was definitely attempting to side with caution
this morning. He wondered which would win out, the need for caution or
the need to fuck. He knew which one he hoped would win.
As he watched, he felt a frisson of unease skirt down his back as her
expression suddenly cleared of nervousness and indecision. It was
replaced with pure feminine sensuality. It was enough to make a grown
man wary.
A second later her eyes darkened to near black and the flush on her face
deepened. Hunger filled her. He could smell it on the air around her,
taste it in the spicy hormone that suddenly flirted on his taste buds as
the glands beneath his tongue began to throb in demand.
He tensed as she moved, walking slowly around the table with her eyes
narrowed on him. He almost smiled. It was more than obvious that the
little minx was out to prove something. He just wasn't certain what.
"You are starting to irk me, Braden," she told him as she rounded the
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table, gliding forward as the scent of her arousal began to cloud his
mind, and his judgment. Damn, he wanted nothing more than to throw
her to the table and fuck her until she screamed for mercy. Or for more.
"I do seem to be rather good at that." He contained his laughter. Hell, he
was fighting for breath as her hand flattened against the tight muscles of
his abdomen, the silken warmth sinking into his flesh as her nails
pressed into the skin.
He uncrossed his arms, one hand reaching out to thread through her
long hair as her lashes fluttered.
"Be certain, Megan," he growled out. "I'm riding a very thin edge of
control right now. I cannot promise you gentleness."
She opened her eyes, the dark depths reflecting so many emotions they
took his breath. He could feel her fears swirling around him, the fear of
the bond between them, her wariness of it. She had been alone so long.
Too damned long. Forced to forget she was a woman with needs. Forced
to hide herself and her gifts in her quest to protect those she loved. Her
dedication to her family, her obvious love and sacrifice for them touched
him. How much more loyal would she be to a lover, or to one who held
her heart?
His patience was a fragile thing right now. Despite his best efforts, he
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could feel his normal calm eroding further as the animal impatient to
mate surged to the surface. He grimaced as her nails scraped his
abdomen, scratching
along his flesh until they stopped at the waistband of his jeans. She
smoothed her hand over the waistband, her fingers pausing at the snap,
delicate, graceful fingers that trembled.
Braden trailed his hands down her arms, curiously watching the small
shivers that raced over her flesh. He was certain her responsiveness was
due to the Mating Heat. But she was his mate. What did it matter why?
"You are as soft as the finest silk." He sighed, losing himself in her
passion.
"I need you." Her voice trembled with emotion. "I'm not used to needing
someone else like this Braden. It terrifies me."
He could feel that fear pouring from her. The aching knowledge that she
was bound to him, that for the first time in her life she couldn't run. She
couldn't protect herself, or him, from the changes rapidly taking over her
life. Megan had built her life around protecting others. And doing it alone.
"I like your need for me." He caressed her waist, pushing beneath the Tshirt
to touch warm, soft skin. "Feeling it wrap around me, binding me.
You are a miracle, Megan," he told her softly. "My miracle."
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The zipper lowered slowly, easing over the erection throbbing painfully
beneath the material. God help him, he wouldn't last long at this rate.
Lust already burned inside him, prickling over his flesh, demanding that
he touch her, taste her_ possess her.
His.
A low, tortured growl left his throat as she slowly freed him from his
jeans.
Uncertainty and fear were rapidly losing way beneath her hunger. He felt
it pouring from her, sinking into him, heightening the sensations ripping
through his body.
Control.
He slammed the barriers down within his mind instinctively. He couldn't
lose control at this point. The desires rising between them were too
fragile, and would be too easily damaged if he pushed at the wrong time.
He needed to let her feel instead. To let her sense his needs, his passion,
his pleasure.
He leaned back against the counter, giving her the opportunity to do as
she pleased. To touch him, to guide the passion rising so rapidly between
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them. To investigate her own hungers. That was important, he knew, to
allow her the freedom to touch, to accept him.
"I've never touched another man like this." Her nervous admission broke
his heart. She was a woman of strength, of passion; to have denied
herself to the point that she rarely touched, or allowed herself to be
touched, must have been agonizing for her.
'That's okay, baby." He groaned. "You are doing exceptionally well."
Her fingers traveled the length of him, stroking from balls to tip as she
tortured him with her touch. Leaning forward, her lips touched his chest,
her tongue peeking out to lick at his flesh tentatively.
Sweet merciful God_ His thighs bunched as pleasure slammed through
him, rocking him as her fingers smoothed just beneath the head of his
cock, where the barb had emerged and locked his cock into the tight
depths of her vagina the night before.
"You can feel it." Her voice was reverent, filled with pleasure, a pleasure
that was killing him as she probed at the ultrasensitive flesh where the
barb would emerge later. "Just beneath the skin. It throbs."
His whole body throbbed. Ached. Screamed out for her touch as her
breath caressed his skin. Her lips moved over the hard muscle, her
tongue licking, spreading fire across the flesh as her head dipped, her
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teeth raking the hard, flat nipple that rose to her touch. And all the while
her fingers stole his breath as they stroked his cock.
"Baby, this is a very dangerous game you're playing." He fought to hold
back, to allow her the freedom she needed.
Yet she also needed to understand that a very thin edge of control
separated the man from the animal.
"I like living dangerously. Remember?’ He felt her smile a second before
she began to move lower, lips and tongue raking across his skin as she
moved closer to the straining length of his cock.
That fickle flesh jerked in rising anticipation, eager for her kiss, the liquid
warmth of her mouth. His mouth filled with the taste of the hormone
spilling from the glands beneath his tongue. He swallowed slowly, his
teeth gritting as his lust rose higher, hotter. Sweet God, he was burning
alive.
"This is insane." He growled as her tongue painted a trail of electric
sensation down his abdomen. His hands moved from her waist, reaching
for her head, for the soft weight of her hair as she drew steadily closer to
the trembling, eager flesh throbbing in her hand.
He prayed for patience, for control. She needed this, perhaps even more
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than he did. Needed to touch and taste where before she had never been
able to, never dared to. And God knew he wanted it more than he
wanted his next breath.
"Hmm, it's hot." She was going to kill him with pleasure. "Hot and sexy.
You make me feel sexy, Braden."
Wonder filled her voice, pierced the savage haze spreading through his
mind.
"God help us both, Megan. You are so fucking sexy you burn me alive."
Her tongue licked teasingly at his navel as his hips jerked in reaction,
driving his cock closer to her hot little mouth. "But so help me, if you
tease me much further you may have little choice in this game you're
playing."
Chapter Thirteen
She could feel his desire, his hunger. It raged around her, inside her,
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whipping through her mind, her body, until the lust that filled her
overwhelmed her caution, her reserve. She knew what he wanted, what
he ached to feel.
Her fingers gripped the width of his straining erection as her mouth
watered to taste his flesh. The desire was like a beast raging inside her
until she lowered her head to the silken crest.
She licked the desperate flesh rather than consuming it as she knew he
wanted. Her tongue slid over the damp head, licking at the small drop of
pre-come that beaded from the slit. He jerked in her grip.
The taste of heated male, salty and wild, filled her with an addictive
hunger that she knew had little to do with the arousal she could feel
pouring from him. Her hunger, her need, tore through her unlike
anything she had known before.
There were none of the conflicting emotions she had felt years before
when she had attempted any intimacy with a man. None of the
selfishness or sense of triumph. It was pure, undiluted need, pleasure,
the desire to give as well as receive.
"Megan, teasing can be a bad thing at this point." Amusement lay
beneath the rough need in his voice as his hips jerked against her flirty
licks. "I would advise caution in your play, sweetheart." His control was
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tenuous; she could feel his struggle to hold back.
"Hmm, you don't like it?" she murmured against the straining flesh. The
brief thought that they were in the kitchen, still mostly dressed, and
playing such erotic games sent a thrill of excitement racing through her.
"Maybe I like it too much." He seemed to be speaking through gritted
teeth as her tongue moved lower, probing beneath the flared cap at the
pulsing point where she knew the barb lay hidden.
"Teasing can be fun." She licked the straining head a second before she
let her lips cover the point, suckling at it timidly as her tongue raked
over it once again.
His hips jerked as his cock seemed to swell in her grip. Lust, rich and
hot, swirled around her, in her, meeting her own, driving the heat
tormenting her higher. Every cell in her body seemed sensitized, ready
to explode in climax.
"Teasing can be dangerous." His voice was rougher now, more primal.
She licked at him again before lifting her lips, raking over the hard flesh
before her mouth opened and slowly, so slowly she could feel the savage
hunger growing, deepening, pouring over her-she consumed the hard
crest.
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"Sweet Jesus_" Braden felt his control slipping. He could feel the point
where the barb emerged growing hotter, a pinpoint of pleasure that
tortured and tormented as her lips began to rake over it, just as the
sensitive area on the other side pounded with the need for release.
Her lips tightened around his cock, drawing out the pleasure as she
learned the shape of him, her curiosity and her pleasure wrapping
around him. Feminine hunger slammed into his senses as her suckling
mouth began to move with more confidence, with greater intensity.
Son of a bitch, it was killing him. Never, even when trying, when
attempting to feel the hunger that drove his partner, had he been able to
feel this. Sweet, pure female need wrapping around him, driving his lust
higher.
He gripped her hair, holding her to him as her mouth tightened on him,
sucking him with a voracious hunger that consumed him.
"Sweet mercy." He growled, his fingers tightening in her silken strands.
"That's it, baby, suck it harder. Your mouth is so fucking hot you're
burning me alive."
Her tongue flickered beneath the crest, a hum of pleasure vibrating
against the already violently sensitized flesh.
His hands cupped the back of her head as he began thrusting, unable to
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halt the movement of his hips, pushing into her mouth, retreating. His
teeth gritted at the ecstasy consuming him. He was going to have to
stop her soon.
Saints alive, he didn't know if he could hold on to his control to keep
from hurting her, to keep the beast raging inside him from taking her
with a force he knew could destroy them both.
She hummed against him again, sweet moans of rising desire that tore
at his determination to hold back. Her fingers caressed him, stroked the
throbbing shaft, curled around the taut spheres below and sent his
senses spinning.
"Good girl," he crooned almost mindlessly now. "Sweet baby, there you
go. Suck my cock, Megan" He gritted his teeth as his head fell back.
His hips moved in short, digging strokes, filling her mouth as the
vibrations of her moans, the scent of her arousal, stole his sanity.
"Enough" The barb was throbbing beneath the head, pressing out as he
felt his balls tighten with the need to come. "Enough, Megan" He pulled
at her hair, desperate to tear her away from him before he lost all
semblance of control.
Her nails nipped at his thighs as her teeth raked his flesh warningly, the
small bite of pain sending his senses exploding with heat.
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"Fuck Megan." His hands dug into her scalp as he tried to hold her still,
fought the climax that surged through his body. Electric trails of
sensation raced up his spine, tightened his scrotum. His sanity and
control receded beneath her suckling mouth.
He felt the barb press outward, extending as her tongue began to flicker
desperately over it. Her mouth drew tighter around him as rapture
erupted through his body. His seed filled her mouth, explosive jets of
semen shooting inside the moist depths as her tongue fought to lick at
the hard extension, extending his climax, sending bolt after bolt of
sensation racing through his cock.
Megan was lost in the primitive taste and response filling her. Braden did
nothing to hide either his mental or physical pleasure. Both filled her,
empowered her, and stripped away any caution, any reserve she could
have mustered from him.
She drew back from the still-hard, pulsing erection, staring in dazed
fascination at the thumbtip-sized extension pulsing beneath the head of
his cock. Its position would allow it to be anchored in the most sensitive
portion of a woman's vagina. High, behind the hard clutch of muscles
that would have gripped him had he been buried in her pussy.
As she watched it slowly receded, sinking back into the flesh as though it
had never been there.
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"It's amazing." She smoothed her fingers over the area, a smile tugging
at her lips as his hips jerked in response and his hands pulled at her hair.
"It's damned strange." He growled, pulling her up, forcing her to
straighten against him as he stared down at her with his dark gold eyes,
his long honey-and earth-streaked hair falling around his face. "But right
now, it's the least of my concerns."
The primal throb of power and lust in his voice sent chills racing through
her body, followed by a wave of heat that nearly buckled her knees. His
eyes glittered with his lust, the planes of his face savage, intent on
possession.
"What does concern you then?’ She meant to sound teasing, flirtatious.
The words came out as a plea instead.
The smile that shaped his lips stole her breath. Arrogant, assured, a
confident male animal.
"This concerns me." His hand moved from her hair to her thighs, his
palm sliding between them as he cupped the saturated curves of her sex,
grinding against her clit and sending fire racing through her nerve
endings.
She arched in his hold, aware of his arm tightening around her back as
her knees weakened with the extreme pleasure. She ground herself
against him, a gasping cry escaping her throat as liquid fire seemed to
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consume her.
"I can't" She lost the strength to finish the cry as she felt him tear at
the material of her shorts, dragging the soft cotton out of the way as she
trembled against him.
"Control it?’ His rumbled growl was filled with satisfaction. "Hell no. You
can't, Megan, and I wouldn't stand for it if you could. I want you out of
control, baby. Burning with me. Feel. Feel how good it is."
She jerked against him, her legs straightening until she stood on her
tiptoes, her eyes widening, dazing as his finger pressed against the
tender opening before sinking inside her.
She felt the slide of moisture rushing from her, easing his way as he
filled the sensitive depths of her pussy. His finger moved wickedly,
stroking her, rasping against the delicate nerve endings as she
shuddered in pleasure.
Oh God, it was so good. Too good. She could feel him inside her, the
calloused pad of his finger creating a friction intended to drive her crazy.
"You're pussy is hot, Megan." He growled in her ear as his teeth scraped
the lobe. "Hot and sweet, like the finest cream. As tight as a fist. Taking
you is more pleasure than I ever imagined existed."
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There was no subterfuge, no lies. She could feel his pleasure whipping
around her, sinking into her, mixing with her own to create an
intoxicating sense of rapture. Her hands roved over his shoulders, the
feel of the tiny silken hairs covering his flesh prickling her palms. She
wanted to feel him fully against her, feel that satiny pelt rubbing over
her, stroking her flesh with a lazy eroticism that stole her mind.
She mewled in rising hunger as his finger moved inside her, thrusting
with diabolically slow strokes as she teetered on the edge of orgasm.
"Are you going to tease me all morning?’ She finally gasped as she felt
him change the angle of his hand, felt another finger joining the first. A
ragged, tormented moan was her only recourse as he stretched her
further, filling her, stealing her breath.
"I want to lay you down and lick at all that sweet cream pouring out of
you," he drawled in her ear, his voice a seductive growl of primal hunger.
"I want to fill you with my tongue, Megan, and consume every sweet
drop of cream I can force from your body."
She shuddered, moving against his hand, helpless in the grip of the
overpowering need to have him do just that. To feel him licking her,
eating her inch by inch.
"Now." She groaned helplessly. "God, do something before I die."
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The words had no more than left her lips when his fingers slid from her
pussy, giving one last caress to the spasming flesh before he bent and
pulled her quickly into his arms. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her
head falling against his chest as her lips moved to the hard muscle,
opening over it then sinking against the tough male flesh helplessly. She
wanted to mark him. To taste him. To fill him with the same pleasure he
sent racing through her body.
If the tight, hoarse snarl was any indication, she had succeeded.
Within minutes she was naked, lying in her bed and watching as he
jerked his pants from his powerful thighs.
Before she could do more than marvel at the powerful male creature
intent on possessing her, he was moving over her, his lips catching hers
as his chest raked erotically over her already tingling nipples. Wildfire
filled her as his tongue pushed between her lips, sweeping into her
mouth as he nudged against her tongue, demanding she take him as she
had the hard erection earlier.
She arched against him, accepting the riotous demand as the spicy taste
filled her senses. Their moans echoed around her, his animalistic, hers
beseeching. Pleasure raked through her as he held himself above her, his
hands framing her swollen breasts as his fingers began to pluck and
plump them. She had never considered her breasts a particularly erotic
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area, until Braden touched them. Until his hoarse growl filled her mouth
a second before he broke the kiss, his lips moving purposely across her
jaw and down her neck. He licked at her, nipped at her skin and raked
his teeth over the sensitive area before moving inexorably toward the
thrusting, hard-tipped mounds.
When he reached them he paused, his eyelids lifting languorously as he
glanced up at her, his full, strong lips swollen from their kiss.
"Mine." The harsh, gravelly pitch of his voice had her trembling in
anticipation as his warm breath wafted over her straining nipples.
Resistance was futile, she thought with a spurt of amusement. He was
claiming her; she could feel it in every cell of her oversensitive brain.
"Am I? she challenged him then, smiling up at him with deliberate
mystery as she arched into his grip. "Prove it."
She loved challenging him, loved making his eyes darken, his
cheekbones flush with lust.
His fingers tightened on her nipples, sending an electric surge of
pleasure tearing through her womb. She gasped, her head falling back
weakly, nearly begging at that point for him to fuck her.
"You are," he promised her, more than satisfied with her response if the
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tone of his voice was anything to go by.
"Says who?" She was dying for him to prove it. Aching for it.
He chuckled at the deliberate challenge, his thumbs raking sensually
over her nipples with a rasping pleasure that had her gritting her teeth
to keep from begging him to consume her.
"Oh, I will prove it, baby." His voice was low, intent. "In ways you could
never imagine."
She tensed at the husky murmur, anticipation and trepidation sliding
through her at the misty images that filled her mind. Him behind her,
covering her, taking her…
"I don't think so_" Her gasping laughter surprised her as her eyes
opened, meeting his gaze with amused defiance.
She shouldn't be amused. He was deliberately allowing her to sense his
emotions, as well as the desires filling him. And there were many, many
desires. They had her blushing from her toes to her hairline, a fiery heat
filling her at the thought of them.
"Never say never, baby," he warned, his eyes sparkling with his own
amusement as his head lowered, his tongue licking over the top of her
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breast. "There are so many different ways I could claim you. You have
no idea."
Oh yes, she did. The pervert! Those ideas of his were whipping through
her head now, thoughts, pleasures she could have never imagined. And
they were stealing her will, stealing any resistance she might have
thought to make. Well. for the most part.
Any thoughts of resisting, surrendering or chastising him for deliberately
playing with her mind were washed away beneath the moist, rough
warmth of his tongue as it curled over her nipple. The sensitive tip
screamed out in pleasure, causing her to jerk at the sensations as a
strangled moan left her lips.
She twisted beneath him as he covered the taut point, suckling it into his
mouth, rasping against it with his tongue as liquid fire shot through her
pussy. Oh hell, she liked that. She liked that so damned much. It was
incredible. Hot and tempestuous, and so exciting she almost screamed
with the pleasure. Except he stole her breath. Stole her breath, then
stole any thoughts she could have made as he moved to the next
mound, repeating the action.
He stroked, nibbled, licked and rubbed. His tongue just a bit rasping, just
enough to titillate and make her crazy for more. And the way it stroked
over her nipple as he sucked at it firmly was definitely making her crazy.
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Her hands tangled in his long hair, holding him to her as his fingers
plucked and tormented the peak his mouth wasn't covering. Sharp
sensation surged from her nipples to her pussy and stole her breath with
the sharp spasms that surged through her womb.
He wasn't content to linger there, no matter how desperately she pulled
at his hair as he began to move lower.
"Stop teasing me_" She was panting. Panting was so juvenile. But there
she was, panting for breath as he licked his way down her stomach,
nipping and kissing and generally driving her crazy.
"Hmm, teasing is good,'' he reminded her as his hands moved to spread
her thighs. Wide.
She shuddered as his teeth raked at the inside of her thigh, her muscles
clenching, fighting to close against his head despite the broad hands
wrapped around her knees, holding her open.
"You smell so sweet.'' He placed a nipping little kiss in the crease
between her thigh and her desperately aching cunt. The pressure
pounding in her clit had her trying to arch closer, to force his mouth
where she needed it. And oh, did she need it.
"Braden, I didn't tease you like this." Oh hell, that wasn't a whimper. It
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really wasn't. And she wasn't begging, she assured herself. She just
couldn't breathe enough to make her voice firmer.
"You mean like this?"
She screeched as his tongue swiped through her aching slit, from the
entrance to her hungry pussy to the swollen nub of her clit.
Harsh tremors shook her body as she reached for release, only to hear
his heated chuckle as he sent a breath of air to tantalize her aching flesh.
"You're evil." She panted, straining to get closer.
"That wasn't evil," he growled. "This is evil."
His tongue flickered over her clit, the touch so whisper light that the
taunting strokes only pushed her arousal higher without allowing her to
explode.
Her hands clenched in his hair, pulling at it, her ragged moans
demanding relief. A sharp nip to her thigh had her stilling for a second.
Only a second. The eroticism of the small bite caused her to shudder as
her head whipped back and forth on the mattress.
"Stay still, minx," he ordered, his voice growing darker, hotter as she
strained against him. "Let me do this."
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His head moved lower, his tongue reaching out to rim the flooded
entrance of her pussy.
"Mmm, delicious." He lapped at her, licking with such sensual destruction
that she swore she was going to go up in flames and disintegrate into
ashes before he ever gave her relief.
She moaned, a low, pitifully desperate sound that she knew she was
going to blush over later. But for now, the pleasure was sweeping
through her, rocketing through her bloodstream and building in intensity.
"Like that, baby'!" His hands slid from her knees to her inner thighs, his
thumbs catching at the plumped flesh of her pussy to open her further.
She nearly wept as his tongue began to tease at the opening, flickering,
licking, lapping at the juices easing from her. The vibration of his
growling moans was another caress streaking through her.
"I hate you." She moaned with a spurt of laughter as his teasing
threatened to steal her mind. He was killing her.
He laughed, a low wicked sound that sent shivers racing over her flesh.
"That's okay, baby," he crooned. "I like the way you hate."
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His tongue sank inside her, parting the clenching muscles, licking at the
sensitive flesh and sending her exploding as her hips arched and the
breath rushed from her lungs.
One thrust. That was all it had taken. One deep, powerful thrust of his
wicked tongue and she was exploding around him, melting, burning
beneath the erotic lash of each caress.
She was barely aware of him moving, able to do no more than gasp as
he flipped her to her stomach before pushing her knees up, forcing her
to hold her hips from the bed. In that position, she was open to him,
completely defenseless as she felt him rub the head of his cock against
her quaking pussy.
"So pretty, Megan." The growl in his voice was deeper now, more primal.
"So wet and hot."
He pressed against her, the wide crest opening her, stretching her with
unbelievable pleasure. "There, baby." He came over her, covering her as
he began to work his cock into the gripping muscles of her pussy.
God, it was killing her. He was hot and thick, spreading her open,
caressing nerve endings she had never known existed until he possessed
her.
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Megan whimpered as her fists clenched in the blankets beneath her, her
eyes closed, aware of nothing but Braden taking her, holding her
beneath his powerful body, his tongue caressing her shoulder, his teeth
raking it as he thrust slow and easy inside her.
She shuddered, clenching around him as she pushed back, eager to take
every inch, to experience once again the amazing pleasure she knew she
would only ever find with Braden.
"There, baby," he crooned at her shoulder, placing stinging little kisses
there as he began to move inside her.
"See how sweet and tight you are? Like a snug little glove created just
for my cock."
His explicit words had her moaning in excitement, the gravelly, growling
sound of his voice piercing her womb as his erection tunneled through
her pussy with increasingly hard strokes.
The air around her began to pulse with hunger. His. Hers. The smell of
hot sex, sweat-soaked bodies and lust filled the room. Braden's growling
moans, her desperate cries echoing around her. The sensations weren't
just pleasure—they were desperate, grinding, furious sex.
Braden braced himself over her, his teeth opening over her shoulder as
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his hips moved faster, pounding his cock inside her with sharp,
jack hammering thrusts that had her screaming. She tilted her hips and
rocked back into him as she felt wildfire twisting through her pussy, her
spasming womb, climbing higher, hotter.
He snarled at her neck, and as though the trigger had been released, she
exploded. Her back arched, white-hot heat whipped through her body as
her orgasm ripped through her nerve endings at the exact moment she
felt Braden's teeth sink into her shoulder.
Pain, pleasure-both exploded through her, one driving the other higher
until she didn't know where they began, where they ended or if reality
would ever return. The hard, erotic extension locked him inside her,
heating her further, driving her climax harder. She felt Braden's cock
jerk, felt the hard, jetting pulses of his seed shooting inside her as he
growled again, a low, throaty sound of pleasure as his release rocked
him as hard as hers tore through her.
Megan collapsed beneath him, feeling his lips lift from her shoulder, his
tongue lapping at the wound she knew he must have made. It should
have hurt like a son of a bitch; instead, she felt only a low. distant ache
and a slight sting.
And Braden.
"You bit me." She could barely push the words past her lips. "Told you
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not to bite me again."
He growled. The sound sent a pulse of pleasure raking over her nerve
endings as she moaned in defeat. Hell, what was a little bite? She was
sated and exhausted, more relaxed than she could ever remember
being. She could handle a little bite or two.
Maybe.
Chapter Fourteen
"This biting stuff is going to have to stop." Megan surveyed the damage
to her shoulder in the mirror over the sink as she frowned at the slight
bruising. Talk about the hickey from hell.
Two small punctures pierced the flesh, reminding her of the gory
vampire books she liked to read. She shivered at the thought.
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"It's not that bad." His voice was quiet as he stood in the doorway
watching her, his eyes dark gold, his expression carefully blank as he
glanced at her shoulder.
She tried to sense what he was thinking and feeling, but he held it back,
keeping it carefully behind the shields that seemed such a natural part of
him.
"Wish I could do that," she muttered in exasperation before pulling on
the soft cotton tank top she was going to be forced to wear beneath her
blouse. This was definitely a no-bra day.
"You could, if you tried." Megan stilled. She could hear the determination
now, carefully banked.
Lifting the cotton blouse from the hook on the wall beside her, she
shrugged into it, buttoning the loose material as she ignored him and his
comment.
"I need to go into the office this morning." She tucked the shirt into her
jeans before snapping them and latching her belt. "I'm sure I have
plenty of paperwork piled up and waiting. I may as well take care of it
while we're waiting for whatever answers you're going to come up with
for this."
Braden crossed his arms over his chest. She ignored the action.
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"The paperwork can wait." Damn. His voice hadn't changed; neither had
his expression. That wasn't a good sign.
"For what?" She turned and faced him squarely now. It was better to get
it out in the open and fight over it before they left the house. She was
evidently not going to like whatever he had to say or he would have said
it already.
"We have a job to do, Megan," he reminded her. "We have to find out
why those Breeds were murdered and what the Council wants with you.
We're not going to do that in this house fucking ourselves to death, or in
the office completing your paperwork."
"I didn't tell you to infect me with that funky hormone shit you have
going on, Braden," she pointed out with a scowl. "So don't blame me for
your own horniness."
He grunted at her declaration.
"Stop trying to change the subject." He straightened from the
doorframe, pulling himself to his full sexy, broad height as he stared
down that perfect nose of his. Well, maybe not so perfect. She looked
closer, barely detecting where the flattened plane appeared to be
misaligned by the smallest degree. Aha, an imperfection. She knew he
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had to have one somewhere.
"So tell me what the subject is." Unfortunately, she was afraid she
already knew. "I haven't heard you actually state anything, yet."
We're heading back into the desert today," he informed her. "Area Sixfifteen,
Section C. It's a small canyon we suspect Mark and Aimee may
have gone to before heading to the gully where you found them."
Megan paused. "And you know this how?"
His lips quirked. "Jonas managed to pull another small bit of information
out of that Coyote you let live. We're going to check the canyon because
evidently the Coyotes hadn't made it there yet. That was their next stop.
But we suspect Mark and Aimee might have stopped there."
"And you know this how?’ she asked again.
"GPS tracking was turned off in their vehicle, but they kept a directional
and mileage recorder on. Analysis of the electronics indicates they were
in that canyon for as long as twelve hours. Alive."
She stared back at him silently. She knew what he wanted. He wanted
her to use the Empathic abilities she possessed to find the answers the
others couldn't.
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"It won't work," she told him softly. "If it would work, I wouldn't have to
run to this desert to hide. I would have gone to my superiors and let
them help me find a way to make it work."
"I'm not your superior, Megan," he reminded her, his voice dangerously
deep now. "And the situation has changed. Because, baby, I can do more
than just mute the emotions flowing around you. I can amplify them.
Today we will find answers."
"Hold on just a damned minute." She rushed through the bedroom,
determined to catch up with him as he moved down the stairs, obviously
ignoring her.
"Braden Arness, you hold it right there," she snapped, grabbing the rail
and taking the steps two at a time as she rushed after him.
He stopped all right, turning just in time for her to slam against his
chest. She grunted at the hard contact, silently cursing the hard muscles
before pushing back from him fiercely.
"What the hell are you talking about? You can amplify them?"
He arched his brows.
"Get your boots on and I'll show you. It's time to find answers, Megan.
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It's obvious the Coyotes are not going to attack again any time soon and
give me a chance to force the answers from them. And we can't stay
here, hidden in the desert forever, waiting on them. We find our answers
on our own now."
She stared back at him, fighting the fears rising inside her. She knew
what it was like, the struggle to sift through the bleak emotions, the
violence of lives forcibly taken. It was hell, slicing into her brain with
torturous strength. She had never managed it before, had never found
so much as a glimmer of hope that it could be done. Even her
grandmother, with her experience in controlling her abilities, had never
truly been able to do it.
"And if I can't?" she asked, hating the thought of failing him, of failing
them both. "I've tried before, Braden."
"Not with me you haven't," he pointed out coolly. "There comes a time,
Megan, when you have to stop hiding and start fighting. I can help you if
you'll let me."
Or he could force her to do it his way, whatever it took.
She saw it in his eyes, in the grim set of his mouth. She could feel her
stomach twisting with nerves, her mind already rebelling against the
coming pain. The emotions and horror attached to a violent death took
years to recede from the area in which it occurred. It would be just as
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strong now as it had been when she first met him.
"Do you want to die like them?" he asked her then. "Do you let the
Council win, Megan? Or do you fight back?"
She fought. The answer was instantaneous. She had never given
anything up without a fight, she just didn't know how to fight this battle.
She moved around him carefully, stepping into the kitchen where her
boots sat by the door, her holster and belt hanging on the coat rack on
the wall. She stared at the Glock strapped into its protective holster
before picking up her boots and pulling them on quickly. The belt went
around her hips, the velcro anchors around her thigh. Moving to the hall
closet, she opened the hidden door and lifted several sheathed knives
from the velvet-covered shelf as well as a powerful snub-nosed machine
gun.
"You're expecting them to be there," she said. She could feel it. Not in
any sense of emotion or thoughts coming from Braden. but with an
inborn gut-deep knowledge she couldn't explain.
"They've been watching the house." The information didn't surprise her.
"I suspect they haven't attacked because they're aware of the team of
Felines watching from one of the points above us. They'll follow though.
It's even possible they have a team in place."
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"So how do you expect to get around them and into that canyon? And if
we do, how am I supposed to figure anything out?’ It seemed a recipe for
disaster to her. "I can't function in those circumstances, Braden." The
emotions would attack her if she abandoned the defenses she had built
against them. Slight though they were, they allowed her to function for
short amounts of time.
"You did fine in the gully the other day," he pointed out, his voice never
deepening nor warming.
"You helped me." She knew that, realized it with an aching sense of
failure. "I hid in that shield you have around yourself."
"Because I let you." His voice was lower, dangerous. "I've let you use the
shields, because you needed them. Your mind needed to learn how they
worked, even if it did so subconsciously. As powerful as I suspect you
are, you'll learn quickly how to create your own shields by using mine as
a guide."
A bitter smile curved her lips. "And if it doesn't work?"
"Then we're both in a shitload of trouble." There was no doubt in his
voice. "Do you want to risk that?"
Her lips trembled as she pressed them tightly together. Rather than
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speaking, she bent to strap one of the knives below her knee, the other
to her thigh.
"I don't like the way you stack the odds. Have your buddies take out the
team watching us here," she suggested.
He grunted. "If they can, they will. There's always the chance they can't.
Now let's get moving. I want to get there before noon."
He turned and strode from the house, clearly expecting her to follow
him. Damn. And she was going to do it, she knew she was. He smelled of
danger, of adventure, of a way to conquer her demons and find the
freedom she had longed for all these years.
And, in that moment, as hopeless as he made the mission seem, she
knew he wouldn't carelessly drive them into the arms of their enemy. He
had been doing this all his life, planning each move, each battle. He
knew what he was doing.
That didn't mean she had to like it.
It didn't mean he wasn't going to tell her exactly what was going on. In
that moment she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was no
more than a test. The decision to follow him, to trust him. And she would
be damned if she wasn't going to pass it.
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Braden kept his expression calm, his shields carefully in place as Megan
opened the door to the Raider and jumped into her seat.
"GPS, pull up Area Six-fifteen, Section C, Casper's Pass." The windshield
immediately became a cross-section of lines and map points as he
backed the Raider into the turning area and pulled out.
"There's the canyon. Lance and I always called it Casper's Pass, though
officially it has no name. We named it that for the sound the winds make
at certain times of the day, like ghostly laughter weaving through the
canyon.
"Here." She pointed to a section of marked range, hilly, appearing
impassable if one used the GPS appearance.
"There's a rarely used road that weaves through this range. It's pretty
much hidden, even from the air, so satellite would have a hard time
finding it. If we disconnect GPS and the locator beacon on the Raider, we
could slip through here. It would bring us above the canyon and allow us
to survey it from a point where damned near all the canyon is in full
view, It could give us an advantage that the other routes won't."
Braden glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing as he stared at the
direction she laid out by touching the points on the screen. As she had
said, it was hidden, so well that even the Breed satellites had been
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unable to detect it.
"The Raider can traverse it?" The range looked remarkably rough.
"Lance and I went fishing up there last summer with Grandfather." She
minted to the blue area indicated more than a mile from the observation
point she suggested. "We took the range road with his Raider. It was
rough, but definitely passable, and the area is also greener than the valley
below, which cuts down on the dust trail. Without beacon, locators or dust
points, the satellite imagery—if the Council is using it—can't pick us up
here. They won't be expecting us if they're there."
Excitement. He could feel it building in her, along with fear. And arousal.
He inhaled slowly, restraining the lust building within him.
"Stop sniffing." He almost grinned at the disgruntled tone of her voice.
"Leaving the house was your idea, not mine. I was perfectly happy
bouncing in bed."
"You have a way of describing things that astounds me, Megan," he
drawled. "Next time, we'll try the kitchen table and see what you come
up with for that one."
"Ewww, I eat there," she retorted in mock distaste.
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He glanced at her, allowing a smile to tilt his lips.
"I'll just make a meal out of you,'' he told her, not bothering to hide the
hunger in his voice.
She flushed. He loved watching the color move beneath her skin, the
way her eyes darkened and her breathing roughened.
"Pervert," she accused him, though her voice lacked heat. "I'll wait until
we get closer to the area before I disable the GPS and locator beacon.
Otherwise, anyone at the office can track us. I'll never believe Lance
would betray me, but there are several people there I wouldn't trust as
far as I can throw them."
There were several people he knew would sell her out in a second. Jonas
had pulled profiles on each and every deputy on the force, as well as the
sheriff. Their records weren't nearly as clean as the state investigators
had listed them.
"I anticipated that." He nodded, pointing to a small area several miles
from their present location. "I'll pull over here and disable. While I'm at
it, I'll contact the team watching the house and see if they were able to
take out the Coyotes there. We hadn't pinpointed their exact location
yesterday, but I'm hoping that when we drive off, they'll begin moving.
My team will be able to locate them if they do."
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Silence filled the vehicle then. Braden was aware of Megan breathing in
roughly before disengaging the GPS map and settling back in her seat.
She watched the road in front of them, her body tense, her emotions
chaotic. He knew the step she had taken hadn't been an easy one.
"I could fail," she finally reminded him, fighting to steady her breathing,
her fears, as though frightened of giving the words strength by voicing
them.
"And you could find freedom." He kept his hands tight around the
steering wheel, refusing to reach out to her, to comfort her as every
instinct inside him was demanding he do.
He was supposed to protect his mate. To fight her battles, to cherish her.
And God knew he had grown to cherish her. Hell, he was so in love with
her he was acting more like a callow youth than a fully grown Breed. She
was his other half; the Mating would not let him deny it.
Taking her into danger wasn't sitting well with him. He knew the
problems she would face as she learned to build the shields she needed.
The pain she would endure in opening herself up to emotions that filled
that damned canyon.
She wasn't a Breed; she had none of the natural, instinctive blocks to
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protect her mind from the horror she would face.
By letting it in, she would experience it, the same as Mark and Aimee
had experienced it. She would know their pain, their horror, and their
deaths. And with any luck, the secret of why they had made the fateful
trip to Broken Butte in search of her would be revealed.
"Freedom would be nice." Her voice was reflective, thoughtful as she
responded to his earlier comment. "It would be very nice."
What she wasn't saying, he could feel. Freedom was adventure. It was
the warrior's soul given the chance to fight, to make the difference it had
longed to make. She would have no choice but to fight. Further training,
if they survived this mission, would be a necessity. He was an assassin.
He didn't capture the scientists and Trainers who had worked within the
Council. As far as he was concerned, there was no redemption for the
corruption that filled them. They were diseased animals. And like such
creatures of the wild, the only peace the world would know was in their
deaths.
He flexed his shoulders, feeling the scars crisscrossing his back that he
had never allowed Megan to see. The whips used in the training centers
and Labs were created to maim, to kill in the most painful ways. He had
learned early on to avoid that punishment at all costs. But he had
learned it at a painful price.
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"We'll go slow." He made the promise against his better judgment. "We
can observe the canyon from above, see what you can pick up from
there."
"It's too far away," she said regretfully. "I drive through the canyon
when on patrol, looking for tire tracks, or sensations of previous
movement. I can't do that from a distance; I'll have to get into the
canyon. Normally, GPS will pick up life signs, but something jammed it in
the gully, so I'm hesitant to trust it now."
"Yeah, I noticed that. My Raider wasn't picking them up either. The
jammers were gone when the team went through the canyon though."
"Unless it was being used from another point. Did we miss one of the
Coyotes? She turned to stare at him, a frown creasing her brow.
"We missed one." He nodded, certain himself that there had been a third
Coyote. "That's why we won't rely on GPS this trip. We'll use what God
gave us to survive, Megan." He couldn't let her do otherwise. "We don't
have a choice. We find out now why they want you, and what my people
were doing here. And then we take them out."
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Chapter Fifteen
The route they took to the canyon was longer than the others, but as
Megan promised, the grassier terrain yielded no dust clouds and the
sheltering hills and passes muted the sound of the motor as it made its
way to the location.
It wasn't an easy drive, and one he was certain only the Raider or a
terrain-eating motorbike could have traversed.
The Raider sliced through several streams before squeezing through
passes he was certain there was no way it could scrape through.
Before noon, they were pulling into a hidden copse of trees. Braden cut
the motor before leaving the vehicle. The edge of the canyon was just
ahead.
Braden pulled the binoculars from the backseat and began surveying the
area while Megan looked around nervously.
He could feel her fighting to lower the shields that were so much a part
of her and search for any hidden enemies.
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"What do you feel? He kept scanning with the binoculars; the heatseeking
capabilities of the equipment couldn't be blocked. There was
plenty of wildlife, but so far none of the two-legged variety.
"Fear." Her voice was flat, tight.
"How strong is it?" God, he hated this. He could feel her hesitancy. her
instinctive rejection of the emotions trying to bombard her.
"Probably mine," she answered with resignation. "I'd rather face the
Coyotes and bullets than try this."
"Let's move in closer. I can't detect any hidden life signs. If they're here,
they're below."
The Coyotes wouldn't anticipate their arrival from above. They would
expect them to take the same course into the canyon that Megan would
have taken on patrol.
"There're several ways into the canyon from here." She kept her voice
lowered as little by little she forced the mental blocks to recede.
It wasn't easy for her. He could feel the struggle she was waging to drop
them, to allow her sensitive brain to pick up whatever emotions leaked
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from the canyon below. They were there; he could feel them, just as he
could feel the presence of the Coyotes.
"We'll stay high for now." Bending low, they moved from the shelter of
the thick trees, staying parallel to a mass of boulders that appeared to
have been dropped like a child's marbles along the top of the canyon.
Megan moved along the edge of the thick pine growth, thankful for the
cover of brush as she moved closer to the area where she would have
been most vulnerable during patrol.
She couldn't feel the presence of the Coyotes. The dark malevolence that
was so much a part of them, the thirst for a blood, was absent. She
knew them now, knew the feel of them, the smell of them.
She was aware of Braden moving behind her. The sense of calm, the
shield that normally reached out to her wasn't there now. The absence of
it sent her pulse racing; the knowledge that she was mentally on her
own was almost frightening.
She couldn't feel the Coyotes but the tendrils of violence that reached
out from the canyon floor had her chest tightening. Rage. Fear.
She breathed in roughly, fighting to allow it in, to sift past the rage and
anger for the core of the emotion. There was always a core. A driving
reason behind the pain. But at this distance it would be next to
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impossible to detect.
"Mark and Aimee had been here. They knew the Coyotes were following
them," she said, her voice rough as she felt him behind her.
He was tense as he covered her. The shields he had allowed her to use
before weren't available, but there was something else, a connection, a
sense of energy pouring from him into her.
"Let's move back, work our way to the canyon floor and see if there's
anything there. Maybe the distance between here and the entrance they
used is still too much."
God, she could feel them already, distant though they were. The
shadowy impressions of emotion clenched her chest as the overwhelming
grief, the bottomless pit of rage and pain, sought her out. Why had those
Breeds been here? What had they wanted from her?
They backtracked quietly. As they neared the upper edge of the cliffs,
Megan pointed out the steep trail that led to the canyon floor. The
weaving path led between boulders, scrub pine and a multitude of brush.
It wasn't the safest route, but it was relatively secure.
"I'll go ahead of you." Braden paused at the top of the path, glancing
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back at her, his gaze darker, filled with concern.
"Are you doing okay?"
She nodded stiffly. Dropping her barriers, ineffective though they were,
was still hard. It wasn't something she was used to doing and her mind
was rioting at the vulnerable position she was placing herself in.
"How did you learn to use your shields?’ she asked.
"Most of it is natural instinct. Animals have the ability to sense emotion,
to sense danger, while remaining unaffected by it. They know it's there.
My abilities are stronger than many of the other Felines. I can drop my
shields and sense emotion without feeling it, but I can't pick up specifics.
I can pick up the fact that there was death, pain, rage or danger. But I
can't sift through the emotions to reach the secrets."
"And what makes you think I can? She tried to regulate her breathing, to
hold back the fear that reached out to her and weaved through her
consciousness.
"Observation." He paused at a particularly steep stretch of the path
before moving to the left several feet in search of surer footing. "And the
fact that I can feel you drawing on my shields. It stands to reason that
you could also draw on my abilities and pick up more."
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"To increase them." She paused as she stared back at him. "You're going
to increase what's already there."
Breathe. In. Out.
She could handle it. She would kill him later, but for now, she could
handle it. Do the job; that was the important part. The rest she could
tackle later.
"I'll be here with you, Megan." He turned, his expression still, almost
blank. "We'll work on it together. We'll balance each other. I promise."
Her lips flattened as she fought the bitterness that seemed to seep
through her. Balance each other.
"You won't feel what I feel, Braden." The betrayal still stung. The sense
of being used seared her soul. "That's not balance."
"You'll see." He turned and continued down the path. "'Explaining it
would make no sense, but you'll see what I mean."
The closer they moved to the floor of the canyon, the stronger the
impressions came. At this point, it wasn't the rage or the death. She felt
determination, a sense of purpose.
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She paused at the wide entrance, fighting to still the tremors that passed
through her body. One of the unfortunate side effects of her abilities was
the fact that she felt not just the emotions of the event reaching out to
her, but also the lives the victims had lived. Not clearly. Not enough to
find answers or even completely understand the darkness that filled her
mind - and would later fill her dreams. And the darkness within the two
Breeds who had died here had been deep.
She paused just within the rising cliffs, closing her eyes and trying to
focus. They hadn't been frightened. They had stopped here, staring into
the canyon for long moments, aware of something_ Danger.
"They were hunters." Braden's voice was soft. "Mark and Aimee were
paired in the Labs because their abilities complemented each other. Mark
was a perfect shot; Aimee was more in tune with the weapons-what
would work best where-than he was. She had a feel for them. She was
an excellent tracker: he was a strategist. We suspect they were mates,
but they never came forward to verify it."
Megan sensed that the two had been close, though they had fought to
hide it. The small distance she felt between them wasn't a result of that
attempt to hide their bond. It was a result of betrayals. They had loved,
but that love had been marred horribly.
"They were mates." She frowned as she sifted through the impressions.
She could feel a bond, and it was strong.
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Strange, the information that could be found on the outskirts of violence.
As though everything that had been felt had been saved, impressed
upon the area like information to a hard drive.
Braden. He stood just behind her, his primal DNA a magnet to the
psychic impressions.
"Concentrate." His voice was almost mesmerizing. "I'm here, Megan. I
know what's here with us. Trust me to help you."
She moved slowly in to the canyon, one step at a time, feeling the
presence of the two Breeds as she made her way between the sheer
cliffs that rose above them.
Mark had been hard, fierce. He had believed irnplicitly in whatever they
were there to do. Aimee had been less certain. She hadn't been
frightened, but rather wary. She could sense things easier than her
partner, her mate.
Megan inhaled sharply as she stopped. She hated this. Her insides
clenched with pain, a physical sensation to match the mental excesses as
she felt the spirit of the woman reach out to her.
She felt death.
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"I can't" She whimpered then, desperation rising inside her as her
hands went to her own stomach.
"You're not a part of it, Megan." His voice was at her ear, his hands
gripping her hips, holding her to her feet when she knew she would have
fallen. "Feel around your mind, right now." His voice hardened. "Keep
your eyes closed, baby. Remember. You are separate. Separate yourself."
Separate.
Her hands clenched at her stomach as she felt the pain rising in her soul.
"She was pregnant." She wanted to curl into a ball, to find a hole that
could hide her, that would let her grieve.
No. No. That was Aimee. Aimee had wanted to hide.
"She was pregnant." Braden's voice was low, aching with sadness. "Why
was she here, Megan? Why did she want you? Go beyond Aimee. There's
a place beyond the emotions, the pain, where the truth lies. What did
she want?"
What did she want? There were so many emotions rolling over her,
through her. Sift through them. Find the core. There was a core.
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"Revenge."
Megan stiffened, gasping at the strength of the thought. Aimee wanted
revenge.
"Keep your eyes closed." Braden growled as they flew open. "Close your
eyes, Megan. Concentrate. Feel the strength I'm lending you, learn how
to use it and keep looking. What is the core, baby?"
She was gasping for breath. She could feel the fine sheen of sweat that
covered her face, her neck. It wasn't the heat, it was the shaking cold
inside her.
Revenge. The word whispered through her mind again. But first, they
needed proof. Here lay the proof. They would move to the other side of
the curve and wait. GPS on Mark and Aimee's vehicle had been disabled,
stealth had been enabled.
"Breed vehicles have stealth?' she asked, confused, thinking of the
special electronics that blocked life signs by law enforcement vehicles.
He stiffened in surprise "Not normally." His voice was grim now.
"Sometimes, only when authorized."
She kept searching, desperate to find the answers here, now. She didn't
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know if she could go further, if she could force herself to pull in the
shattered emotions that lingered here. Already her mind was screaming,
demanding to be allowed to hide from emotions that weren't its own.
The emotions were stronger here than they had been in the gully where
the couple had died. They had rested here within the shelter of this
canyon. They had held each other, loved, and accepted that the battle
they had taken on may not be successful.
Megan felt herself weakening. Her knees shook, her chest felt tight with
a need for oxygen that should have been there. She was gasping for
breath; surely she shouldn't feel so deprived?
Behind her closed eyes, sparks of light exploded before her gaze, shifting
colors, sizzling heat. She felt a premonition of death, a race to make a
call. Another call. Had they been betrayed? Aimee had felt the betrayal
beating at her brain, the sense of danger, of death.
Then, through the building emotions, the knowledge of another's danger,
another's death, came a sense of impending doom stronger than the
impressions lying in wait. Her eyes flew open as she realized they were
closer to the sharp bend that led further into the canyon than she had
realized.
"Stop." She hissed, digging in her heels, staring at the curve, her
muscles freezing. her mind screaming.
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He stopped. Time stood still as she fought to get some sort of control. to
separate herself.
"Someone is there," She could feel it. Knew they weren't alone.
"It's the strength of your abilities." He began to soothe her.
She shook her head desperately. "I feel them. They're there."
"I don't feel it." His voice was cold, analyzing. "What do you feel,
Megan?"
Her hand fell to her holster as she loosened the clip that held the Glock
in place and allowed it to drop into her palm. She was aware of Braden
doing the same.
"Do you feel it?" she asked him. Friend or foe? She couldn't be certain. It
wasn't a Coyote, she knew that.
He jerked her to the side, moving to the base of the cliff, using the scrub
and boulders that littered the area as a shield. Megan fought to slam the
barriers in her mind back in place, almost whimpering in pain as they
refused to lower.
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As though once lifted, they would be forever out of reach.
"What is it?" she asked. She wanted to clasp her head in an attempt to
hold back the sensations still rushing toward her. Whoever, whatever
waited on the other side was cold, emotionless. She sensed nothing but
their presence.
"Non-Breeds." Braden's voice carried no farther than her ear. "At least
two."
"Moving or still?"
"Waiting. The scent hasn't changed. They know we're here. What do you
feel?"
She shook her head. "No emotion. Just presence."
She felt more than heard his curse.
"We move back above the canyon." He growled in her ear. "Back to the
Raider."
Backing up, Megan kept her gaze on the curve that led around to the
other side of the canyon. Why wait there?
What were they searching for? Her mind was alive with twisting emotions
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that made no sense, that she had no time to sift through. But she could
feel the answers there, just out of reach. Both Mark and Aimee's, as well
as whoever lay in wait now.
They definitely weren't Coyote, she thought as Braden pushed her back
up the path to the head of the canyon. She kept low, moving between
the sheltering boulders and brush as they rushed up the steep slope.
Silence was imperative. She was aware of Braden's silent demand, of
how he braced her when needed, keeping her from stepping in the softer
areas and leading her along firmer ground.
From below, she could feel patience, silent watchfulness. Whoever was
there knew that she and Braden were also, or at least suspected they
would be rounding that curve. They were waiting on them.
She wanted to whimper as pain seared her mind. It took every ounce of
strength she possessed to flee back up the path, to concentrate on
climbing rather than lying down and moaning at the pain.
As they neared the top of the cliff, Braden pulled her to an abrupt stop.
She felt it then. Just above them, waiting.
"You stay." He pushed her behind the boulder they were using as a
shield, turning to stare at her, his eyes blazing gold with fury. "I'll be
back for you."
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She caught his arm, defiance filling her. She had come this far, she
would be damned if she would let him shelter her now.
"I'll be behind you," she told him, careful to keep her voice low. "From
here, we can break off, shimmying along the side. We can move to the
top of the cliff with the smaller boulders and brush covering the
entrance. We'll be hidden and on either side of them."
His lips flattened, an instant denial flashing in his eyes.
"It will work, Braden," she whispered. "We're not that far from the
Raider. You can smell them, right?"
He nodded briefly.
"You'll know where they're at once we get to the top. You can signal to
me and we can take him out. It's the only way." She could feel it. Her
brain was a morass of sensations and information she couldn't make
sense of, but this made sense. Someone was waiting on them, possibly
to stop them.
"We fight together or we don't fight at all," she told him fiercely. "I won't
be coddled."
"You'll be dead if you don't do as I tell you." He growled. "Let me check
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it out first."
Megan stared back at him furiously.
"Go then," she said coldly, releasing his arm and settling back against
the boulder as anger burned in her chest.
"I'll just sit here like a good girl and wait on you."
"You do that." He grunted, nodding sharply. "Give me ten minutes. If
you don't see me after that assume the worst and use this." He pressed
a small locator in her hand.
"And this is?"
"The signal goes straight to Jonas. He'll have help out here soon. Stay
hidden and shoot anything that moves the wrong way. You're fairly
secure right here." He touched her cheek before flashing her a wicked
grin. "But I do intend to be back, baby."
He grabbed her by the back of the head, pressed a quick, hard kiss to
her lips, then moved off.
Son of a bitch. He was trying to protect her. Playing the big bad Feline
hero taking care of the weak little woman.
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She snorted at the thought. She did not think so.
One.
Two.
Three.
She watched him make his way to the left, using the craggy outcropping
of the cliff to hide his presence.
He was smooth, she had to give him credit for it. If she hadn't watched
him move into the brush and boulders then she would have never known
he was there.
But that was okay, she wasn't too damned shabby there herself.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Now.
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She moved away from the boulder, sliding to the right, careful to stay
low as she began to shimmy up the side of the trail at the opposite angle.
Of course, he would know what she was doing; there wasn't a chance he
wouldn't catch sight of her. But those below, and whoever the hell
waited above, wouldn't have a clue. She knew this area like the back of
her hand, had played here as a child, hunted as an adult. She and Lance
had trained in this area with her father and grandfather as teachers. She
knew how to stay hidden.
Staying on her belly, she used her knees and elbows to scuttle along the
slope, staying low, moving between and around the brush and craggy
outcroppings of rock. The paths worn into the steep slope made it hard
to stay under cover, but her grandfather had taught her how to blend
into the landscape around her and to use even the most insignificant
cover effectively.