Lion's Heat (12 page)

She did it, she did it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uh-oh.

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

She rather doubted it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His woman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER 6

Her sister, Diana, had once told her that there was nothing worse than a determined man. Rachel hadn't clearly understood what she was talking about until she had seen the pure, undiluted determination in Jonas's gaze.

Seeing it wouldn't have been near so terrifying if the instant response that whipped through her body hadn't been so impossible to control.

And he'd known it. He'd sensed it. He'd scented the quick, rapid flow of moisture that filled her vagina, he'd glanced at her breasts to see the hardened tips of her nipples pressing against the thin material of the white blouse she wore.

Arousal--blazing, uncontrolled and rapid--had rushed through her, nearly breaking her own determination to deny the primal response she couldn't seem to control.

Thankfully, Jonas seemed wary of the edge they were suddenly skating on. He'd pulled back, remained silent and allowed her the chance to get her body, as well as her imagination, under control.

The imagination part had actually been harder. All she could think of for precious seconds, all she had seen, had been Jonas rising over her, his expression savage, dark, as he took possession of her. For an instant, her pussy spasmed in need at the thought of him pressing inside her, filling her, working his cock into the sensitive, snug muscles between her thighs.

She'd felt her body's hungry desire for his touch in places where she had never known such need before. On her tight, hard nipples, the moist heat of his mouth sucking her. Along her hips, the swollen bud of her clit and deep in the aching center of her body.

Remnants of that hungry need still assailed her if she didn't keep a close watch on the control she'd fought to maintain for so many years.