or a moment before he tightened them. His entire body was taut, tense with lightning-fast, erotic fingers of sensation.
He was fucking her mouth with slow, easy strokes. The tight, wet grip, her flickering tongue drove him crazy with need, with hunger.
Ah God, he couldn't bear it. He fought it. He couldn't come like this. He couldn't risk whatever unknown results . . .
His hands locked on her head again, stopping the rapid strokes of her mouth. Not that it stopped her. Once again she sucked, her tongue flicked, rivulets of heated, pulsating pleasure wracking his balls as he forced himself to pull back, forced himself from the ecstatic grip of her lips.
Snarling, he fought to restrain the hunger racing through him and lost.
"I needed to tell you . . ." He turned her, pressed her hands to the wood table and urged her to bend over.
Like this. The wildness inside him would have it no other way. Only here, only behind her, could he grip her as he needed, could his teeth lock into her shoulder and the hormone in his tongue spill to her system with maximum results.
Gripping the shaft of his cock, he pressed it against her, grimacing at the feel of her juices lubricating the crown, slickening it to allow for easier penetration.
The tiny entrance of her vagina parted, sucking at the head as he pressed it closer, clenching, urging him inside.
Her back arched as the scent of her pleasure whipped around him. He had to fight to hold back a roar as she cried out when he pressed the head of his cock tighter against the slick, fiery portal of her sweet pussy.
Bending, he pushed inside, felt the tight gripping muscles as they began to part for him, his cock bare as he began to forge his way into the sleek heat of her pussy.
"I'm sorry, Rachel." He felt the sweat drip down his face, watched as it fell to her shoulder a second before his lips moved to the vulnerable bend of her neck.
He was going to bite her. He could feel it. Animalistic, pounding, the strident demand of the animal was impossible to ignore.
Right there. Close to the heavy vein that meant life or death.
She was shaking. He felt her shuddering even as he felt the snug, wet heat of her body gripping him.
He was losing all restraint. He was losing his grip on what little awareness he had. There was nothing but the woman, nothing but the pleasure. Nothing but the fist-tight grip enveloping his cock as a snarl tore from his lips and he powered inside her.
Rachel's back arched.
Pleasure-pain streaked through her as she felt the sudden, fierce thrust that parted the tender tissue and filled her with exquisite, blinding heat.
She couldn't hold on. Her nails dug into the edge of the table as she began to move, her hips thrusting back, her muscles clenching on him as he began to move behind her.
His hips rolled, knees bent. She felt his claws at her hips, digging in with stinging heat, a pleasure-pain that added to the deep, driving thrusts inside her body as he fucked her deep, hard.
With her back to him, she had no choice but to concentrate on the pleasure. There were no distractions. She couldn't see his eyes, couldn't watch his expression, and it combined to send pleasure screaming through her system.
She was flying through ecstasy. She was thrown past reality into a world where nothing but the blistering, driving hunger existed. Where nothing mattered but this moment, this man. This pleasure.
It built inside her, tightening, tensing, burning. Wracking shudders raced up her spine. Agony gripped her clit as she felt the world beginning to unravel around her.
The explosion that resulted had her gasping his name. Nothing had ever been like this. Nothing had burned with such heat, stroked with such pleasure, or exploded with such shattering results.
Jonas felt it. The clench, the fist-tight grip that only became snugger, hotter. The rush of liquid heat, the shudders that raced through her body.
The pulsing, suckling grip she had on his cock was too much. Pleasure conflagrated. A fiery storm of sensation tore up his spine, tightened in his abdomen and exploded in his balls.
Before he could stop the impulse, his teeth locked in that sweet, soft area of her shoulder. The sharp tips pierced the flesh, the iron-sharp taste of her blood exploding against his rapidly licking tongue.
As his release tore through him, the barb emerged from beneath the head of his cock, extended, locking him inside her milking pussy, and began to heat his entire body with the powerful, minute release that detonated inside it.
His body was a mass of ecstatic pleasure. Powerful, brutal, primal in its intensity, building and burning inside him until his head jerked back from her neck and a hard, strangled roar left his lips.
His mate.
His.
His gift. His life.
He had betrayed her the moment that he had allowed her kiss. In this second, now, spilling his seed inside her, he had the horrifying realization that without Rachel, without her touch, her laughter, her warmth, his life held no meaning.
With that thought came the understanding, the knowledge, that when morning came, he might lose her warmth as well as her laughter.
What woman would welcome being mated to a monster?
CHAPTER 17
Rachel awoke in Jonas's arms, her head cushioned on his chest as his fingers stroked along her spine. Fingers that lacked the lethal, strong claws they had displayed the night before.
She'd seen the dangerously tipped extensions before, but had never had the nerve to actually explore the long, broad fingers to find out if they worked as a cat's would. She had to admit though, the feel of them stroking down her thighs had sent arrows of sensual excitement shooting straight to the core of her sex.
Her gaze dropped to the strong, broad hand that lay across her bare stomach. Reaching down, she lifted his index finger, stroked it for a second, marveling at the strength of it. Did she dare, she wondered? She knew she didn't dare look at him as she did it. Biting her lip, she pressed firmly just beneath the broad, well-manicured nail and watched as the lethally strong claw emerged.
His entire hand flexed then, and slowly, each finger sported the well-manicured, lethally sharp tipped claws she had felt across her thighs the night before. Her lips quirked. Only Jonas would have his claws manicured and honed to dangerous points. When it came to the idea of Breeds being civilized, Jonas gave an Oscar-worthy performance.
He was silent as she ran her finger over the sharp tip, his silver eyes watching her with quiet intensity as she lifted her gaze back to him.
She wished she could decipher the emotions that roiled in his eyes. She wished she could understand why the sight of them bit at her heart with aching sadness.
"Can all Breeds do that?" she asked as she flicked the tip of a claw with her finger.
His head shook. "Only a primal."
"A primal? I haven't heard that designation before." She thought she had heard all of them.
The color in his eyes flickered momentarily. "It's a sub-designation and kept carefully quiet. Many Breeds aren't even aware we exist. We are truly the monsters of the species. Primals are bred to be less merciful and compassionate. Our animals are closer to the skin, you could say, and the human instinct for cruelty and egomania was bred to be uppermost in our human genetics."
"The perfect soldier," she murmured, remembering the news releases that had accompanied the Breed rescues.
"No, Breeds are the perfect soldiers," he amended. "Primals are the perfect killers. We were created to work best alone, to never be able to be a lover or a friend, and to kill that person on command, or as needed. We were created to have no heart, no mercy. And we were created to breed hybrids that were animals walking on two legs."
Something more flickered in his gaze then: apprehension, perhaps? Did he expect her to feel fear at this point? As far as she was concerned, it was a little too late for that. She was in his bed now, she was truly his mate. Fear at this late date would have been drama. And Rachel seriously didn't believe in drama.
"What happened with the breeding part?" Her heart was breaking at the knowledge that they were created to never love, to never laugh. What a weight it must be to know they had been created to destroy, to kill, and that the world knew why they had been created. So many hated and feared them for their very existence. They had no idea how much the Breeds regretted that reason as well.
A short, bitter laugh escaped his lips. "They could never get that part to work so well. For the most part, the scientists were unaware of the need for mating. But the groundwork was laid for the creatures they eventually wanted to produce, though."
The creatures, not the children. Rachel had to force back her tears at the words he used. Jonas wasn't much on sympathy. He preferred reality and honesty above all things. She'd heard him say once or twice that sympathy was an empty emotion for those who had no desire to expend the effort to actually fight against an injustice.
"It doesn't matter if it's human or animal," she said softly as she stared back at him. "I don't believe anyone is born or created to kill. It's taught to them. You can use all the genetics you want, but it comes down to what you teach your children. Just as it comes down to what that child wants to be once you've taught it all you know. The knowledge of right and wrong is inherent, Jonas. The Breeds have proven that."
She saw the indecision in his gaze then, or perhaps disbelief.
Lying in his arms, his body warm, hard, tense against her, she finally broached the subject that had bothered her the previous night.
Jonas and the Leo had such a conflicted relationship as it was, but last night, they had both been more on edge than normal.
"What is the issue with Leo? He's been picking at you for as long as I've worked for you, but he was worse last night."
"He's been picking far longer than you've been with me," he grunted.
"Why?"
"Who knows why the Leo does what he does, or what he hopes to achieve from it." There was genuine confusion in his expression. "He keeps pushing for something that he has no desire to explain, and I refuse to ask for that explanation. I'm simply the whelp I'm certain he wishes they hadn't created."
His tone was matter-of-fact, accepting, but Rachel saw the hint of betrayal in his eyes. Leo's attitude pricked at him, and who could blame him? The one dream the Breeds had was that of family. Leo was his father, yet he acted as though he were ashamed, or regretful, of Jonas's existence. His eyes told another story, though, Rachel thought. Like Jonas, the Leo's eyes roiled with emotions.
"You're stubborn," she stated.
"And he's a manipulative bastard," he growled.
"Like father, like son, perhaps?" she questioned him with a smile as she stretched lazily, feeling the tenderness that assailed her body, the proof that she had been well loved the night before.
"My genetics are far different from his," he retorted. "His provided a base, if you will. The scientists then added what they thought would create the animal they wanted. Leo's no primal, but he should have been created as one."
She almost laughed. Unfortunately, she had a feeling that laughter wouldn't go over so well right now.
"I hate to tell you this, Jonas, but you're not that far from your father in genetics," she informed him. "The two of you are more alike than he and Callan are. You even have several of your mother's physical traits, such as the shape of your eyes."
His expression darkened. "Elizabeth isn't my mother. My dam was the Scientist LaRue, who headed the French labs where I was created. I share no genetics with Elizabeth Vanderale."
He was lying to her. Rachel sat up, turned and stared down at him. There was no mistaking the fact that Elizabeth Vanderale was his mother. Many of Jonas's actions mirrored hers, such as his habit of rubbing his neck when he was agitated, or the way he narrowed his eyes. She had seen the woman display those gestures many times over the past months.
Lies and deceit were things Rachel absolutely refused to tolerate. There was no way in hell she would stand back and allow Jonas to practice his less desirable traits against her as he often did in the political circles he moved within.
"Look, I don't know what you think this mating is going to be, Jonas Wyatt, but it will include not lying to me. And don't think I haven't learned by now exactly how to tell when you're lying. Let me guess: Elizabeth Vanderale isn't supposed to be your mother, so you've simply never informed her that she is?"
His jaw tightened. Whatever emotion he was trying to hide from her, whatever knowledge he wanted to keep hidden, was obviously something he had fought to keep to himself.
"How do you know I'm lying to you?" He gazed back at her with an almost innocent charm. It was so obviously feigned that she nearly laughed.
She rolled her eyes. "For some reason my female intuition kicks in. When you lie, it feels like the edges of a panic attack."
If there was one person she thought would understand that, she knew it would be Jonas.
He sighed as he stared up at the ceiling as though that knowledge was an irritant. "Just what I need, a mate who knows how to listen to her instincts."
Rachel gave a light laugh before she moved from the bed, drawing the sheet with her and wrapping it around her.
"The fire is going out. It will be getting chilly soon," she told him as she glanced to the window, where dawn was just breaking over the horizon. "And Amber will be up at any time. Would you listen for her while I shower?"
Jonas watched as she moved from the bedroom into the bathroom, a frown brewing on his brow as he finally figured out what it was that seemed off.
Rachel carried his scent now. He could detect the hormone fusing to her system from the bite he'd given her the night before. He could detect a natural, subtle allure to her. But, she wasn't burning for sex as other mates did. She wasn't close to begging, and it had been six hours at the very least since he'd taken her.
The fire shimmered inside her. She was aroused. He could smell that hunger simmering in the sweet recess of her pussy. But she was controlling it rather than it controlling her as it blazed out of control.
Lying there, he tried to feel the burning, agonizing arousal that he knew affected mates for the few months of mating unless conception occurred. Or unless Ely was able to find the required hormonal dosage for the females to aid in relieving the symptoms.
It was limited, he realized as he rose from the bed and quickly dressed. He was aroused. His cock was as hard this morning as it had been the night before. The need to take her, to spill himself inside her, was still there. But it was no longer agonizing. It was no longer so painful he felt as though he were losing his mind.
Rubbing the underside of his tongue against his teeth, he felt the minor swelling in the glands. The hormone was there, ready to release into her system once again. The glands weren't overenlarged, though neither were they burning as though fevered.
Moving to the living room, he fixed the baby's bottle, then moved to her crib to change her diaper and prepare her for her breakfast.
A small grin tugged at his lips as he met her green gaze and a wide smile split her lips.
"Hey there, little one," he whispered as he moved closer and began the process of diapering her. "Waiting on me, were you?"
It had become his practice to get up before Rachel. He often used those spare moments to play with the baby where no one could see, and to develop the bond he knew would stay with them for a lifetime.
She cooed up at him, which instantly melted his heart even though he attempted to steel himself against it. This tiny little girl, so vulnerable, had the ability to make him question himself and how his actions would be seen by her as she grew older.
Her mother knew him, perhaps in ways he didn't know himself, he thought. She was definitely stronger than he had imagined. He had expected her to be shocked, horrified, at the knowledge of the child she could conceive. Instead, she had calmly disagreed with his knowledge of what their future could hold, and calmed his fears as well.
Could it be so
simple? he wondered. That a child of his could be more than a killer? That there was a chance he could raise it to value life as Jonas attempted to?
Fixing Amber's clothes, he had to grin again as her tiny foot kicked against his hand, her little arms waving in excitement. She knew it was time for him to pick her up, to cuddle her against him, and she was demanding that he hurry.
"You're going to kick ass," he told her as he lifted her from her crib moments later and gave her the bottle. "I can see it now. With an auntie like Diana, all that red hair, and me for a daddy, you won't have a choice."
He would have to teach her to protect herself. The Breeds' world wasn't one where safety was the norm. Danger was the norm, and all their children had to be prepared for it, even those who hadn't been born with Breed DNA.
Sitting in a nearby chair, he rested the child against his chest and held the bottle comfortably to her ready lips as he gazed down at her. She looked like her mother. There was nothing of her father in her. Not in looks, nor in scent.
He tested her scent, and found that Rachel's genetics far overpowered the Marshal genes. Then he frowned and tested the air again.
There was something new there, something he hadn't detected before. But it was as yet so light that he couldn't exactly pinpoint its source.
Of course, a baby's scent changed over the course of maturity, he knew that. Their scent as an infant was far different from their scent as an adult, even though it held that infant scent as a subtle undertone.
But still, Amber's shouldn't be changing so soon. She had several more months before the change would even begin, and slightly longer before it should be detectable.
As she finished her bottle, her eyes drifted shut, and sleep overtook her again as Jonas rocked her gently. Within moments, she squirmed, whimpered and, damn, but he had to grin again.
Easing his restraint, he let the contented purr of a mated Breed rumble in his chest. He'd been purring since the night he'd brought Rachel to his home. Another anomaly, he thought. Most Breeds didn't purr until after the barb had emerged during full intercourse.
Yet, Jonas had. And he'd been very careful not to allow Rachel to hear it. He wanted her comfortable with the mating before he allowed her to see exactly how much of an animal he was.
With Amber, he'd relaxed his guard though. That first night as Rachel slept, exhausted, Amber had been restless for her mother. He'd allowed the purr to escape simply because he had no idea how to hum as he'd heard Rachel when she held her child.
Amber had been immediately captivated by that purr, so much so that now she refused to sleep for Jonas unless he used the unique sound as he rocked her.
He was wrapped as tightly around her little finger as he was wrapped around her mother's.
When he could no longer sense wakefulness in the child, he laid her back in her crib before picking up the comm link he kept close by.
"Command, I need a secure line into lab level two," he ordered the security command center. "I want the channel locked and encrypted."
"Yes, Mr. Wyatt," the control Enforcer answered.
A series of static beeps and pings signaled the secure line going into place, and seconds later the first ring echoed through the line.
"I've been trying to get hold of you," Amburg answered quickly, his tone distracted. "You should answer your sat phone or comm link more often, you know."
"Really?" Jonas feigned disinterest. "What did you need?"
"I need you and your mate back in the labs together as soon as possible. I'd like to get samples while the two of you are in each other's presence to compare them against previous samples," he informed Jonas. "Ely ran your tests last night and they contained several surprising anomalies. I need to study those further and wanted to see how the added stimuli would affect the tests."
"Hmm," Jonas murmured as he felt his more calculating side overtaking the sated languor he had felt moments before.
"Does it have anything to do with the change in Amber's scent as well?"
Silence filled the line for long moments. Jonas felt a tension that hadn't been there before and knew the good doctor's face would be creasing in a thoughtful scowl. Which didn't bode well for the answers Jonas needed.
"Bring the child as well." There was a note of concern in the scientist's voice. "I don't know what the changing scent is, but if it's indeed changing, then Ely, Elizabeth and I need to figure out why."
Jonas's brows arched. When had Amburg, Ely and Elizabeth Vanderale begun working so well together that Amburg felt comfortable enough calling Elizabeth by her given name rather than Dr. Vanderale?
"We'll see you in the labs soon then," Jonas informed him before lowering his voice. "Be careful, Amburg. If I find out you're messing with tests, I promise, you'll regret it."
"You seem to forget, Wyatt, I am a scientist," Amburg stated, his tone regal now. "I may dislike you until hell freezes over, but Breed genetics and evolution have been my life. Messing with those tests never once crossed my mind, simply because it would mess with the results. Can you say the same?"
Jonas's lips quirked. Of course he couldn't. He messed with certain tests of his own every time they were conducted. Any test that would shed light on who his natural mother was, was given a thorough fucking over, though why he bothered, he wasn't always certain.
Wouldn't Leo, Dane and Callan be horrified to learn that the bogeyman of the Breeds was a full brother rather than a genetic by-blow, as Leo liked to call him?
Hell, he didn't reveal it for the simple fact that he knew that damned woman would fucking cry. Son of a bitch, he'd watched her cry over Callan when he was wounded the year before, nearly killed. She had sobbed in Leo's arms, her voice broken, agony tearing through her that she'd not had enough time to love her son. That they'd been forced apart for too long. That she deserved more time, that he deserved more life.
What would she do if she learned that her eggs, frozen by the Council when she had been a part of it, and Leo's semen, had created him? It was only after his creation that his genetics had been manipulated. Manipulated enough that evidently the parental scent had been wiped away. Only the base of Leo's scent had been retained.
"I'm finished." Rachel stepped from the bedroom, her long hair lying damp over her shoulders, her green eyes slightly darker, her arousal slightly hotter. Yet still, he could smell no distress.
He wanted to ask her to return to the bedroom with him first. He wanted to relieve the ache tightening his balls, but she smelled so fresh and soft and appeared anxious to see her daughter.
She strode quickly across the room, smiled down at her little angel, then picked her up gently and cuddled her as she begun to hum.
Jonas rubbed at the back of his neck, the ache there irritating him. Tension activated it. It bred an ache rather like a head