burned her like a brand, hot as Terran whiskey—and just as quick to go to her head. She wrapped one hand tighter around his thick shaft and took him deeper inside, digging her nails into his ass to hold him there.
Sweet Lady, he felt so good.
She licked, tasted, teased, fighting to concentrate despite the exquisite sensations he inflicted with his clever mouth and pumping fingers.
Until it wasn’t enough. She needed the thick cock she teased buried inside her as far as he could get it. She jerked her head away and gasped, “Now. Lady, Rance, now!”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Pulling away from her, he moved between her thighs and lifted her ass in his hands. Aiming his glistening length for her swollen sex. Zarifa rolled her hips up, fierce and needy. He plunged inside in one hot sweep. With a helpless gasp, Zarifa grabbed for his brawny shoulders, half blinded by that first luscious burst of pleasure.
Bracing both hands against the mattress, he began to thrust, slowly, carefully. She met him, rolling her hips, taking him so deep he shuddered.
He felt thick and endless in those slow, deliberate digs. Muscle surged and flexed in his powerful torso as he braced himself over her, and his ass rolled under her calves, all gentle strength.
Pleasure bloomed through her like an exotic rose with each burning entry, each delicious retreat. She shivered helplessly as she watched his face, staring into those tender golden eyes.
She’d never felt like this. Never felt such heat, such passion. Never known herself loved with such sweet certainty.
The orgasm took her by surprise, drowning her in a tide of fire and cream. She gasped as it rolled over her, hot and inevitable, driven by his long, pumping thrusts.
He growled as she convulsed. And lunged, so deep his pelvis ground against hers. Then again, faster and faster, harder and harder, gentleness lost in the frenzy of his need. And each slap of flesh on flesh drove her pleasure higher, wilder.
Rance roared, throwing his dark head back, arching hard against her as he came. She screamed, her cry ringing over his as the pleasure flamed like a star.
Tangled in velvet and silk, they lay together, breathing hard, hearts still pounding.
Tomorrow, Zarifa knew, they’d take her ship and head for the Freeworlds. She didn’t know what she’d find there on those wild planets, didn’t know what kind of acceptance she’d find among his people. But it didn’t matter.
Home was wherever he was.
With a sigh of pleasure, Zarifa let her eyes slip closed and settled into Rance’s strong arms to sleep.
A JAGUAR’S KISS
Lora Leigh
For Natalie.
For your friendship, your willingness to listen,
and your patience in the face of so many
different versions of one story.
But most of all, just for being you.
FOREWORD
They were created, they weren’t born.
They were trained, they weren’t raised.
They were taught to kill, and now they’ll use their training to ensure their freedom.
They are Breeds. Genetically altered with the DNA of the predators of the earth. The wolf, the lion, the cougar, the Bengal: the killers of the world. They were to be the army of a fanatical society intent on building their own personal army.
Until the world learned of their existence. Until the Council lost control of their creations, and their creations began to change the world.
Now, they’re loose. Banding together, creating their own communities, their own society, and their own safety, and fighting to hide the one secret that could see them destroyed.
The secret of mating heat. The chemical, the biological, the emotional reaction of one Breed to the man or woman meant to be his or hers forever. A reaction that binds physically. A reaction that alters more than just the physical responses or heightens the sensuality. Nature has turned mating heat into the Breeds’ Achilles’ heel. It’s their strength, and yet their weakness. And Mother Nature isn’t finished playing yet.
Man has attempted to mess with her creations. Now, she’s going to show man exactly how she can refine them.
Killers will become lovers, lawyers, statesmen, and heroes. And through it all, they will cleave to one mate, one heart, and create a dynasty.
PROLOGUE
Natalie Ricci stared at the tall, imposing figure standing on her doorstep and reminded herself to breathe. A woman who fainted over a dark, arrogant, exceptionally handsome man deserved whatever happened to her while she was out cold. And anything this man did, she would want to be awake for.
“Can I help you?” She brushed back the dark bangs that grew over her forehead and tried to restrain the nervous jitter playing patty-cake in her stomach. Tall, dark, and handsome was good, real good, but that gleam of powerful male assurance in his eyes warned her this man would be impossible for any woman to ever comfortably control.
“Natalie Ricci?” Even his voice was worth shivering for.
There was no discernible accent, and she was fairly good at identifying accents. His voice was well modulated, perfectly pitched, and stroked over her senses like black velvet.
Black hair, thick and lustrous, was pulled back from his face and bound at the back of his neck. His fallen angel features were composed, almost emotionless, but those eyes, eyes like emeralds, gleamed with intelligence, sensuality, and a spark of primal intensity from within his sun-bronzed face.
There were shadows in those eyes as well. A latent, hidden pain that a part of her, the feminine, caring side of her that she wished she could ignore, longed to ease.
Dark jeans cinched low on leanly muscled hips while a dark blue chambray shirt stretched across his powerful chest. And he wore boots. Well-worn, scarred, and totally masculine boots.
“I’m Natalie Ricci.” She had to clear her throat to answer him, had to tighten her stomach to stop the little flutters of longing that attacked her womb.
Whew, if ever there was a man to tempt her hard-won self-control, she was betting it would be this one. What he was doing on her doorstep she had no idea, but whatever he was selling, she was certain she was ready to buy. Empty bank account notwithstanding.
It was really too bad, too. She had sworn off men. Until she could figure out how to play the game, how to protect her heart and her independence, then men were out.
As luscious and sexual as this man looked, she had a feeling he would be just as controlling, domineering, and arrogant as any man born. Probably worse than most. Definitely more than her ex-husband, whose control tendencies had managed to destroy their marriage.
“Can I help you?” she asked again, wishing she had worn something other than old faded jeans and her brother’s too-big, paint-spattered T-shirt.
He inhaled slowly, as though he had caught the scent of something that intrigued him.
“Ms. Ricci, I’m Saban Broussard, liaison to the Breed Ruling Cabinet. I’m here to discuss your application to teach in Buffalo Gap.” He pulled the slender identification wallet from the back of his jeans and flipped it open. The Breed law enforcement badge, his photo, and pertinent information were all displayed.
She froze in shock. Well, shock and the sound of his name, or the way he said his name, Saban, a soft little sigh of the S, the subtle a, and the bahn at the end. But what caught her, what had her senses standing to complete attention, was the vaguest hint of a Cajun accent in his voice after her certainty that there had been no accent.
If he was Cajun, she was just lost. If there was any sexier accent created, then she couldn’t think of it at the moment.
It took several breathless seconds for her senses to stop reeling, to focus on who he was and where he was from. When she did, her eyes widened in shock.
“Did I get the position?”
She wanted that position with a desperation that had left her shaking when she filled out the application more than a year ago. She had known, had been warned that there were thousands upon
thousands of applicants on the waiting list for a teaching position in the small town just outside the Breed headquarters of Sanctuary.
She had taken the chance, filled out the application, and sent it in, praying. She had prayed for months, and when nothing came of it, she settled back into her own routine and tried to make other plans.
“May we speak inside, Miss Ricci?” Saban Broussard turned his head, stared along the tree-lined street, and lifted his brow at the residents that had managed to find one reason or another to come to their porches or to work on their lawns. She should just charge admission and have done with it.
She bit her lip, knowing the questions that would be coming before the hour was out.
“Come in.” She stood back, holding the door open and allowing him to step inside the house.
He brought the scent of the mountains with him, wild and un-tamed, dark and dangerous.
“Thank you.” He nodded as she led the way into the small kitchen off her living room.
The living room was almost empty, filled with taped boxes rather than furniture as Natalie packed her belongings.
“Have you already taken another position?” He stopped in the center of her kitchen and stared at the boxes there.
She shook her head. “I haven’t. Simply moving to an apartment closer to the school where I currently work. My ex-husband gets the house and all its glorious payments. I get an apartment.” And hopefully a little peace.
He stared around the kitchen again, his jaw bunching before turning back to her.
“I was sent to inform you of the opening of the position and to escort you to a meeting with our pride leader, Callan Lyons,” he said then. “I’ll then stay to help you get things in order before escorting you to Buffalo Gap.”
She really needed to sit down, but she had given the table and chairs to a distant cousin that had recently made the monumental mistake of getting married.
“How did I get the position?” She shook her head in confusion. “I was told there were thousands of applicants just waiting for one to open.”
His lips quirked. “I believe the pride leader, Callan Lyons, stated it was close to forty thousand applicants. You hit the short list on the first stage of the selection process and managed to gain the position by what I’m told was a very long, tedious, and exacting investigation into the backgrounds of those on that list. Congratulations, Miss Ricci. You’ll be the first teacher hired in the county in close to seven years.”
Natalie blinked back at him. He stood confidently, his arms held loosely at his sides, his eyes seeming to take in everything as she stared back at him, certain she must look like a complete lunatic.
“How soon can you be ready to leave?” He stared around the house once again. “Callan Lyons of the Breed Ruling Cabinet will be flying into the capital, Columbia, tomorrow evening, if this is convenient for you, to outline the position and discuss the specifics of the job, though we do need to arrive ahead of him to complete other matters and sign the endless forms, contracts, and so forth that will go with the job.”
Natalie shook her head in confusion. “I thought the Breeds didn’t interfere in Buffalo Gap? I heard that somewhere. Wouldn’t I be meeting with someone from the Board of Education instead?”
“Not if you’re being hired to teach Breed children. Those children are very well protected, and any hiring done in that regard comes under the sanction of the Breed Ruling Cabinet. Until that decision was made, the Board of Education has allowed the Breed Ruling Cabinet to select any additional staff required.” He tilted his head and watched as she gripped the small bar she stood beside to keep herself from falling. “You are still interested in the job, are you not?”
She nodded slowly. “Oh yeah,” she assured him. “I would say that’s an understatement.”
“Very well. I was hoping we could make arrangements to leave for Columbia this afternoon, if possible?” He stared around the kitchen, his gaze touching on the boxes. “Sanctuary’s heli-jet is waiting on the private airfield outside of town to escort us there. Is that agreeable—”
His words broke off at the sound of the front door slamming open, hitting the wall in the small foyer she had led Saban Broussard through and echoing through the near-empty house.
Before she could do more than gasp, she was pushed behind the bar and within a blink Saban was across the room, weapon drawn from somewhere as he slammed her ex-husband’s body against the wall and jammed the muzzle of his weapon beneath Mike Claxton’s jaw.
Mike’s pale blue eyes widened as his face blanched in terror. Saban’s lips were drawn back in a snarl, lethal canines flashing as a growl rumbled in his throat.
“Call him off,” Mike gasped, his gaze latching on Natalie in desperation as he wheezed out the plea.
“For God’s sake, let him go!” Natalie stalked across the room, glaring at the Breed. Obviously a Breed. Only they had the unique, terrifying, wickedly powerful canines such as this one had. “He’s not dangerous, he’s just stupid. Dammit, do I have to be plagued with stupid males?”
Saban drew his weapon back, but only reluctantly. He wanted to pull the trigger. He wanted to rip the bastard’s neck out and watch him bleed, taste his blood, feel the terror that filled him as he knew death was coming.
Because his scent was in this house and to a small extent, lingered around the woman. The reaction was an anomaly. It wasn’t a part of who or what he was. He cared for no woman, and he certainly didn’t care which male touched them. Until this one, this Natalie Ricci, whose brother called her Gnat. Whose mother laughed at her childhood antics with loving amusement.
Until this woman, Saban had never known a time when he would have killed a man over his possession of a female. But this one, he knew he would kill man or beast over her.
The possessiveness had grown over the past weeks, during his surveillance of her. He had seen her on her back porch shedding tears after this bastard had stalked from her home. He had heard the screaming, stood outside her back door and prayed for the control to restrain the violence that rose inside him.
Brown-haired, weak, full of his own self-importance, Mike Claxton had no business near Saban’s Natalie, no reason to breathe her air, to be here in this house, as she attempted to leave the home he had stolen from her in the divorce.
“Let him go before I kick you both out of the house and end up costing myself a job I wanted. You won’t like me much if I have to do that.”
Saban glanced at her from the corner of his eye, aware of the weak-minded fool gasping for air, his hands clawing at Saban’s wrists as he was held securely to the wall.
The feminine ire, frustration, and promise of retribution filled her gaze and did something council soldiers, scientists, or rabid Coyote assassins couldn’t do. It caused a small core of wariness inside him to awaken.
If he was going to charm her, tempt her, and steal her heart, then starting out with her upset with him, possibly frightened of him, may not be the wisest course of action.
She looked furious and fierce, eyes the color of molasses, dark and gold swirling together as she glared up at him, demanding the release of a man whose scent of dishonor was cloying and offensive.
He released Claxton slowly, uncertain why he did so when he wanted nothing more than to crush him, and reluctantly holstered his weapon.
“Consider it your lucky day,” he told the other man as he collapsed against the wall, fighting for breath. “I’d leave if I were you. I’m not known for mercy or for my patience where fools are concerned. The next time you enter her home, I would suggest knocking.”
“You know,” Natalie commented, her tone stern and perhaps just the slightest bit concerned, “I have a feeling you and I are not going to get along if this is your normal attitude.”
Saban smiled. A flash of canines, the expression of innocence he had seen other males adopt around their mates when they had managed to test their women’s patience.
“We’ll get along fine, cher,” he assu
red her before turning, locking his gaze with Claxton’s, and praying the other man read the silent warning there. “This one, though, he may have cause to worry.”
“Natalie, what is this?” Claxton massaged his throat as he glared at Saban.
There was fear in his eyes though, and Saban let himself be content with that for now. Maybe later, he told himself, perhaps once he’d secured his place in Natalie’s heart, then he would take care of this bastard.
“This is Saban Broussard,” she bit out as she moved away from both of them and went to the counter across the room to pour herself a cup of coffee.
He could feel the anger pouring from her now, the uncertainty, and he flashed Claxton another hard look before letting a hard growl rumble in his throat. Because of this son of a bitch, she was mad at him, and if Claxton weren’t very careful, Saban would take it out of his hide.
He was satisfied to see Claxton pale further, but when his gaze slid to Natalie, he nearly paled himself.
What an interesting reaction. Saban felt the clench of his chest, the awakening knowledge that he cared if this woman were upset with him. And she was very upset with him.
“He’s a Breed enforcer, if you haven’t guessed,” she snorted, a cute little feminine sound that he found he liked. “He’s here to escort me to meet with members of the Breed Ruling Cabinet. I’ve accepted a job with them.”
Ah. Saban’s gaze slashed to Claxton as fury, rich and satisfying, poured from the man. Perhaps this fool would give him the reason he needed to slash his throat after all.
Evidently he was doomed to disappointment. Claxton narrowed his eyes, his lips thinned, and his weak hands tugged at the polo shirt he wore, but he made no move toward Natalie.
She moved to the end of the bar with her coffee, leaned her hip against it, and regarded both of them rather curiously as she sipped from her cup.
Was she weighing the differences between them or seeing similarities? There were no similarities, Saban decided. Better she see that now rather than later.
“We need to be going,” he told her. “I arrived in time for you to contact Sanctuary or your local law enforcement for confirmation of my assignment and the arrangements that were made to transport you to Columbia. We’re running out of time.”
She sipped at the coffee again, her gaze going between the two of them.
“I can’t just run out of the house with you, Mr. Broussard. Even Callan Lyons should know that. I do intend to contact Sanctuary as well as the police department, my parents, and the principal of the school that I’ve been teaching in. I’ll then shower, dress, pack, and get ready to go. That won’t be accomplished in a matter of minutes.”
His body tightened; lust slammed through every bone and muscle that comprised it as he stared at the defiance in her eyes. When was the last time anyone had dared to defy him, to make him wait?
“I’m not leaving you here alone with him,” Claxton snapped, but there was very little heat in his voice.
Saban slid his gaze to the other man. “Bet me,” he murmured, letting his gaze meet the pale blue orbs and allowing the lust that fired his body to gleam in them.
Better this bastard knew up front that Saban intended to claim what the other man had so carelessly thrown away. Some men were just smarter than others, it appeared.
“Bet me.” Natalie’s cup struck the counter, jerking Saban’s gaze back to her.
She didn’t bother to shoot Claxton that gleam of anger burning in her eyes, but Saban felt it clear to the soles of his feet. It made him horny. Made him want to show her exactly who she would belong to, who would control all that fire and passion inside her.
But that wasn’t going to happen if he let her remain angry with him.
What had those dating books said? The ones little Cassie Sinclair had heaped on him the year before? Charm, soft words, praise, and the ability to compromise would show a woman his innate ability to please her on both the emotional as well as the mental level.
He could do this.
“Cher.” He let the soft breath of his accent free and tried to keep from strutting as her eyes widened, her face flushed, and a hint of aroused heat flowed from her body. “I apologize for this. He came in threatening.” Explaining himself nearly had him clenching his teeth in irritation. “I thought he had come to harm you or perhaps even myself. I am a Breed.” He shrugged, knowing it was self-explanatory; Breeds were attacked on a daily basis. “My only thought was to protect you and myself as well.” He smiled at Claxton. All teeth, sharp canines and the male promise of future payment. “Pardon my reaction to your entrance, but perhaps you should have knocked first.”
Silence filled the kitchen for long moments.
“And here I thought my day couldn’t get worse,” he heard Natalie mutter then. “I was so wrong.”
ONE
Years before, Natalie could have sworn there was no one harder to get along with than her brother. Ill-tempered, overbearing, and certain of his place in their mother’s affection, he had tortured her. Tormented her. Pulled her hair, hid her dolls, flushed her goldfish, and generally kept her in a state of distress.
She was of a mind to forgive him now, because she had found someone more overbearing, more ill-tempered, and much, much harder to get along with.