Bengal's Heart

  wn.

  He had hoped at one time that they could console each other, but it had never happened. There was no touch but Raine’s that she could tolerate. And for him, there was only the memory of the woman he had thought Serena was.

  “You can’t just walk away,” she argued, grabbing his arm even as he tried to do just that. “We have to decide now what we’re going to do.”

  “We aren’t going to do anything,” he snarled back at her. “I will kill Watts, just as I killed the others. That simple.”

  “Not this time,” she cried out. “I have the right to be there. Myron and I both have the right.”

  They had the right, but he had the authority.

  “You forget one thing, little cat,” he bit out coldly. “I give the orders here. Not you, not Myron. I’ll take care of Watts.”

  Neither Danna nor Myron had any business being any further part of this. Their hands weren’t stained with blood yet; he wouldn’t have them stained with Watts’s blood. That was his responsibility, just as it had been twenty-two years before. He had failed then, he wouldn’t fail now.

  “I have the right.” She glared back at him, her eyes stone hard. Eyes like Serena’s, the same color, nearly the same face. But she wasn’t Serena. She wasn’t a betrayer. She was the one that had loved, that had lost and that had suffered through the years after that loss.

  “Little cat.” He sighed the endearment. Her mate was pure Lion. Raine had been as wild as the wind and just as impulsive. “Let me take care of this.”

  “Like you took care of that damned Coyote,” she suddenly sneered. “You just had to save him, didn’t you, Rick? Just had to help him. You knew the whole fucking pride would follow you, and you just had to do it.”

  He shook his head. “As I would have any Breed, Danna. You know that.”

  He wouldn’t excuse it. That was his responsibility as well.

  “A Coyote,” she cried. “A dirty fucking mongrel that didn’t have the right to live.”

  “We all have the right to live.” He removed her fingers from his arm and stared back at where Myron watched, his gaze filled with such pain, with such regret.

  Even the love of his wife Patricia hadn’t been able to dim the pain that festered inside him. That love had eroded over the years because of something Myron had been unable to help. Because of an affection he couldn’t give the woman who had given him her heart.

  So much waste. And he accepted the fault for it. It lay on his soul and he had learned to live with it.

  “I’ll take care of this,” he told them both then. “Then I’ll take care of the others. The Breeds might have been unwilling to kill Watts by using the truth serums on him, but I have no such fear. I promise you that.”

  He would get what he needed, and he would watch the man die. Slowly. Patrick wanted to savor his death. He wanted to watch each labored breath until Douglas Watts took his last and then no more.

  He lived for it. Ached for it.

  Turning from them, he left them where they stood, though he wasn’t confident they would obey the order he had given to stand down. He needed Watts alive for just a little while, just long enough to get the names of the final members of the Dozen. Names that those who had died previously were unaware of. It seems they hadn’t even trusted one another. Not all of them. None of the men knew exactly who all of their hunting party was. They weren’t disguised just on hunts, but at other times they’d met as well.

  They had been paranoid about their protection, but not paranoid enough. Elam March had trusted Ryan Damron. Ryan Damron had trusted Aaron Washington, and so on. Now he had only four other names to acquire. Once he acquired those names, his job would be done. His life would be done.

  What was there left? He doubted his son still lived, but he had to be certain. They had killed Serena and cut their child from her while he had been with his pride escorting the Coyote through the forest.

  Beautiful, lying Serena. Sweet, sweet Serena.

  He still didn’t understand. He doubted he ever would. He simply lived with the consequences of her actions. And he would die with them.

  ◆ CHAPTER 22 ◆

  Cassa sat through the rest of the meeting Jonas had with Cabal, Lawe and Rule. They laid out their plan for keeping up with Watts and identifying their rogue. They also named those they believed were possibly involved in helping the rogue.

  Walt Jameson, Myron James and Danna Lacey.

  That explained the tension that had poured from Danna when Cassa and Cabal had met with her. Danna had been part of the Breed Freedom Society all those years ago. And according to Jonas and his Breed senses, Danna had, at one time, been mated.

  “The scent is barely there,” he revealed. “Nearly undetectable except in periods of stress. She’s obviously been without her mate for some time, just as James has been.”

  “Myron is married. He has children,” Cassa interjected. “I thought that would be impossible if he had mated.”

  Jonas shook his head. “We don’t know that for sure, Cassa. We’re less than twelve years into researching mating heat. Our doctors and scientists still don’t know what the hell they’re dealing with here.”

  And neither did those who were mated or would be mated in the near future.

  She sat back, watched and listened as they went over their plans. To watch Douglas, make certain he had no chance to get to Cassa, simply because they thought that would piss him off, make him mess up.

  It was too clichéd. Douglas didn’t give a damn about her one way or the other. He was after something else here. There was something else, someone else, he was after rather than Cassa. She just had to figure out who it was and why.

  She knew Douglas. He hadn’t loved her. She hadn’t even truly been a possession to him. She had been the means to an end, nothing more.

  He wasn’t here for her. She just had to figure out what he was here for. Unless he knew who the killer was.

  He had to know who the killer was; he wouldn’t be headed here otherwise. If he didn’t know who and what he was facing, then he would have stayed where he was safe. Douglas would be more concerned with eliminating the threat to his own life, and the lives of those who could help him now. Namely, the Deadly Dozen. She would be nothing but an afterthought, and then for amusement only.

  He was alive though. All these years she had believed herself free of him, of the part he had played in her past. Only to learn he was still alive, and he was still determined to kill the Breeds.

  As the meeting wound down, the information was stored and Jonas rose from his chair to stretch lazily. Cassa’s gaze drifted back to Cabal. He had watched her through the meeting, his gaze lingering on her for long moments before his attention would return to the information scrolling on the holoscreen.

  She could see the heat building in him. She could feel it. Just as she felt it building in herself.

  Anger. Fear. Emotion of any sort affected the hormones that ruled the mating heat. But Cassa realized that something more was driving both of them.

  The earlier confrontation. Her insistence on meeting with Dog had broken through a barrier she hadn’t known existed between them. She didn’t even know what that barrier was; she still wasn’t certain.

  But it was as though something had been freed within her, a part of her that she hadn’t known existed and that had nothing to do with the hormones he had infected her with.

  This was pure defiance.

  How dare he keep this information from her. How dare he, for all these years, ignore what he knew was between them while keeping these secrets. And then, to push her so effectively from an investigation that she was so much a part of?

  Hell no. This wasn’t happening. It would never happen again.

  Her head lifted as her gaze met his, eye to eye, defiance meeting pure male arrogance. He might be a Breed, but she was his mate, and those who had drafted Breed Law regarding mating hadn’t done so without an eye to the pure stubbornness that epitomized Breed m
ales.

  She had her own rights. Rights she hadn’t enforced or threatened him with. This changed things. Never again would she be made to cash in on a valued favor because he wanted to play the protective, silent male.

  If he wanted to continue playing with Jonas, then by God he would do so under a new set of rules.

  “Gentlemen, be prepared,” Jonas finally sighed. “We’ll receive word several hours before Watts hits Glen Ferris. I want everyone in place and prepared.” He looked to Cassa. “We know where he’ll focus, so let’s keep our attention there.”

  Watts wasn’t focused on her—not that they were willing to see that. Because Breeds focused so highly on their women and their mates, they sometimes forgot that humans weren’t nearly that loyal. Not even close.

  She had faith in them though. Give Jonas a little time—if he hadn’t figured it out by now, then he would. Cabal no doubt already had his suspicions. She had watched his face through the meeting. He knew. Just as she knew. Or at least, she hoped he knew. If he didn’t, then he wasn’t as intuitive as she thought he was.

  She rose silently from her seat, collected her pack from the floor and headed to the door, eager to return to her room. She had some research to do herself, some answers to find. Now that she had a bit more of the information that she needed, perhaps she could get her own line into this. There was even a slight chance that she could figure out at least one or two of the missing members of the Deadly Dozen.

  She might even have an idea where Douglas would head. One thing was for sure: If she was on his list, then she was last on his list.

  As she left the suite, she was aware of Cabal following her and the tension emanating from him. As though there were a wire connecting them, tuning them in to each other. The closer they came to the elevator, the tighter it became.

  She moved into the cubicle, standing close to the rear as Cabal stepped in and punched the button for the lower floor. The doors slid shut. Cassa blinked.

  The next thing she knew she was in his arms, plastered between his body and the wall of the elevator, as his lips closed on hers, pushing into the suddenly hungry depths of her mouth.

  The taste of him. It was nectar. It was spicy and sweet, cinnamon and sugar. It was a fire in the middle of winter and seared her to her soul.

  Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, the once muted desire flaring to an open flame, spreading through her body, blistering her senses.

  The mating hormone she had been taking for so many years had kept it repressed, did keep it repressed, until he kissed her. Then it was like a hunger that had waited too long. A starvation that flared to life and overwhelmed.

  “Damn you.” He nipped at her lips, licked over them. “You make me insane, Cassa. Like a madman that can’t get enough of the madness.”

  He would have kissed her again. She knew it was coming, she was reaching for it, when the electronic beep of the elevator indicated their floor.

  He drew back from her, took a hard breath, then gripped her hand and pulled her into the hall.

  “Impatient?” she gasped.

  If he wasn’t, then she damned sure was. As though all the pent-up anger and resentment didn’t matter any longer. As though the fierce fury that had thundered through her blood had suddenly morphed into something else. Arousal burned through her now. It hardened her breasts, pulsed in her clit and sent her juices spilling between her thighs.

  She was wet and hot. Spoiling for a fight and spoiling for his touch.

  “With you? I stay impatient,” he muttered as he shoved the key card into its slot and pushed the door open.

  Any other woman might not have noticed how he quickly inhaled, the small pause before he entered, the way he used his senses to ensure the room was safe before pulling her inside.

  “Great, now you have a key to my room. Tell me, Cabal, do you have keys to my car as well?” She knew he had keys to her apartment; he had surprised her more than once as she stepped inside to find him awaiting her.

  “Probably. Somewhere,” he growled before he pushed her against the wall and took her lips again.

  Nectar. Paradise. His kiss was almost an orgasm in and of itself. He took quick, hard little kisses, then settled his lips over hers and sipped delicately, then greedily. It was a smorgasbord of sensations and caresses.

  One hand fisted in her hair, the other gripped her hip. Cassa was beyond shame or reticence. Her legs wrapped around his hips, tightened on him. Her hands were in his hair, and her lips and tongue caressed and stroked in turn.

  The hard ridge of his cock notched against her sex—a heated, heavy weight that rubbed against her, ground into her and stroked her clit to a pinnacle of sensation.

  She was burning for him now. The need had been an ache before he touched her, but now, now it was a flame searing her from the inside out.

  “Burn, baby,” he growled against her lips. “Burn for me, Cassa.”

  She was a flame in his arms.

  Cabal had never known anything as hot, as sweet as Cassa. Her kiss. Her touch. The way her fingers threaded through his hair, tugged at it, pulled him closer. Her lips moved beneath his with heated demand, and what he didn’t give her, she tried to take.

  Her tongue rubbed against his, and as he followed those wicked strokes, she drew his tongue into her mouth and sucked at it with delicate greed.

  Cabal felt his entire body tighten, felt his cock jerk and harden further as he ground himself against the heated mound of her pussy.

  “Cabal.” She breathed his name against his lips, then her sweet little tongue stroked across them, eluding his kiss as it moved farther away to stroke down his neck.

  The rasp of her teeth had a growl rumbling in his chest. His hands tightened on her rear, clenching in the bunched muscles there as he lifted her closer, pressed her harder to the wall and ground his cock powerfully against her pussy.

  He was on fire for her. Son of a bitch, he was burning for her.

  “You’re going to push me too close to the edge.” He was almost panting, the need for her growing so sharp, so desperate, that holding on to his control was becoming no more than a wish.

  “You already pushed me past mine.” She bit at his neck, and damn if the pleasure didn’t intensify tenfold. Those sharp little teeth of hers nipped, her silken little tongue stroked and pleasure struck his balls like a bolt of lightning.

  “Let me down.” She wiggled in his grasp. “Let me go, Cabal.”

  He released her rear, allowed her legs to slide down and tried to catch her lips with his once again.

  “Not yet.” She slapped at his hands as he glared at her, outraged.

  “What the hell do you mean, ‘not yet’?” He could barely push the words past his lips as her soft hands slipped beneath his shirt.

  Sweet God save him. His stomach clenched as her nails raked over his hard abdomen.

  “Exactly what I said.” There was an edge of feminine command to her tone that had his hackles rising even as his cock took notice with a hard jerk of interest.

  She pulled at the metal tab of his jeans.

  “Damn.” He breathed out the curse as the zipper rasped down.

  “I want to lick those stripes.”

  Cabal stiffened at the moan in her voice, and the desire she voiced.

  He had never allowed any woman to caress those stripes. Until this moment, they had been his personal shame. Now, hell, if that’s what it took to get her tongue on him, then he was fucking all for it. Let her lick. Let her lap. Sweet heaven. She could bite if she wanted to.

  He sucked in a breath as his jeans pushed past his hips. Watching her, he narrowed his eyes, seeing the complete absorption in her face as the hard length of his cock sprang into view.

  She wasn’t distracted. Fuck. He was praying she would become distracted.

  “Hell.” His head nearly slammed into the wall behind him as she licked one of those fucking stripes. Her tongue was a lash of fire, and he promised himself she was going to pay for
the torture.

  Soft, delicate, her tongue ran over the stripes, exciting the sensitive flesh. As though the nerve endings were closer to the skin in that area, each wash of her tongue was like a flame of excitement burning across the area.

  “You’ll pay for this, Cassa,” he promised her.

  “Promises promises.” She nipped at his thigh, then moved to the other.

  As she tortured, tormented the area where the flesh was striped darker, Cabal toed off his boots, worked his jeans over his legs and tore off his shirt.

  He watched, his jaw clenching in greedy hunger, as her tongue licked and stroked, coming close enough to his oversensitive cock that he could feel her breath.

  He was going to feel more than her breath. He promised himself that. Tonight, he was going to feel that hot little mouth wrapped around his cock.

  His fingers tightened in her hair, tugged at the silken strands, and he nearly growled at the soft little moan that left her throat.

  “Stop teasing me, Cass,” he ordered her roughly.

  “You tease me.” She was panting for breath, kneeling in front of him and driving him crazy with the proximity of her mouth to his cock.

  He gripped the base of his cock with one hand, her hair with the other. Pulling back, he watched as he rubbed the thick crest against her moist lips and swore he was going to come from that sheer excitement alone, when her tongue peeked out to rake against him.

  Sensation shot through the shaft straight to his balls. Never had anything been so good, or so tormenting. He wanted her mouth on him. Wanted the moist warmth wrapped around the sensitive crest, wanted to feel her suck him, lick him. Just one more time. He was going to burn alive if he didn’t have her.

  “Cass. Now.” His voice was a rough, primal groan.

  Her lips parted as her lashes lifted to watch him. The crest slipped inside as her tongue lashed at the underside, stroking sweet fire across the sensitized flesh as she sucked him into her mouth.

  He was dying. The suction of her mouth was taking the life right out of him. Soft, heated bliss. Fiery hunger. Her tongue stroked and licked, while she sucked him deep. Soft fingers wrapped around the shaft as far as they would go, pumped it, caressed it, as her other hand moved between his thighs to stroke the taut sac that held his tortured balls.

  Never had he needed to come so badly and yet fought the release with such desperation. He wouldn’t come in her mouth. He wouldn’t allow himself to. He wanted to be buried deep inside her, feeling her pussy clench and tighten around him as he pumped into her.

  “Fuck, your mouth. Hot. Sweet.” He was muttering, growling. It was an ecstasy he could barely stand to endure.

  “Yeah, baby. Suck it.” His thighs tightened as his hips began to move, to pump shallowly inside her hot little mouth as he fought to relish the sensation of her sweet suckling.

  If he could just hold on a few more seconds. One more minute. Just a little while longer.

  He watched her face as she sucked him. The way her cheeks hollowed, the flush over her face, her reddened lips. She wasn’t just sucking his cock, she was loving it with every stroke of her lips and tongue. Relishing it. Tasting him with all her senses.

  “Enough.” He couldn’t take any more. One more stroke of her tongue against his cock and he was going to come.

  He pulled her head back. Forced her head back as he ignored the mewling little protest that slipped past her lips.

  He had to have her. Nothing mattered at this point but taking her. Slipping inside her, feeling the heat and soft acceptance she always gave him.

  That was it. The acceptance. Without lies, without asking for anything but pleasure in return, she accepted him.

  And he needed it now. Needed her. Beyond the mating heat, because it had begun long before he had ever felt that torturous heat moving through him. He needed her. Her touch, her laughter, her softness. Her acceptance of who and what he was.

  Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to the bed. Laying her on the soft blankets, his lips covered hers as he made short work of the clothes that kept the sweet perfection of her body from him.

  God, he loved touching her. Just touching her. Stroking her skin, tasting her kiss, loving her.

  He loved her.

  That knowledge slipped past his soul from that shadowed corner where he had kept it hidden. Even from himself.

  “Sweet love.” He pressed his lips against the mating mark on her shoulder as he moved over her.

  She tasted so good there. Each touch he gave her she responded to as though she had been made for him alone. She was his mate. Nature had created her just for him, for no other man in this universe. Her skin ached for his touch; his kiss fueled her desire, just as hers fueled his. She was the other half of his soul, not just his body. Not just his heart.

  “Cabal, don’t tease me.” Her breathy tone sent shards of impatience tearing through him.

  The soft brush of her thigh against his cock had pre-cum spilling from the tip. He was on an edge he had never known before. The need to savor her body versus the need to spill inside it. God only knew which hunger would be sated first.

  Moving lower, he couldn’t help but swipe his tongue over one hard nipple, then the next. A single taste would never be enough though. He drew the tight tip into his mouth, sucked at it, laved it with his tongue and tasted her until she was arching to him and crying out his name.

  Then he couldn’t have one without having the other. He sucked the mate into his mouth with greedy hunger. Sucked it. Worshiped it. God help him, but he couldn’t get enough of her.

  “Cabal, you’re killing me,” she cried out, but the pleasure in her voice was enough to spur him on.

  He moved lower. Stringing kisses down her torso, along her stomach, he spread her legs and inhaled the sweet, delicate scent of arousal. Of pure heated female.

  And he had to taste there as well. The scent of her was pure fucking bliss.

  “You taste like summer,” he groaned as he lowered himself between her thighs. “Hot and sweet.”

  His tongue swiped through the narrow slit, drawing her juices to it, tasting the incredible need that flowed from her. Never had a woman tasted so sweet or so damned innocent.

  She wasn’t tainted by another man’s touch. No other male’s scent lingered on her flesh. She was pure. Fresh. And he needed more of her. So much more of her.

  He licked the soft folds, drew them into his mouth. E