Lion's Heat (8 page)

It was his luck. Jonas entered his cabin, stood aside and watched as Rachel walked in, knowing that every curse, every ill thought his Enforcers had had concerning his turn at mating were most likely coming true.

The sight he'd seen in the medical facility had made his cock harder than it had ever been. She'd lifted her head with an arrogance that still amazed him, looked down that little button nose of hers and informed Elizabeth Vanderale that she was not mated because she hadn't accepted it.

It would have been amusing had she been another Breed's mate. Unfortunately, she was his, and though he'd had no intentions of fulfilling the mating promise, in that second, nothing else had mattered to him but mating her.

It was the Breed genetics, he told himself as she toed her shoes off and moved into the large living room and looked around. It was the challenge--the steely eyed certainty that she could deny him--and the fact that she was attempting to deny what he knew couldn't be denied.

It was the fact that she belonged to him. She was his. And she had dared to stand in front of the one woman he would never show weakness to and state that she was not his mate until she decided it was so.

It was enough to make a Breed consider relieving the ache of the mating hormone torturing his tongue, in a kiss that would burn them both straight to the tips of their toes.

"This is your cabin." There was an edge of accusation in the statement as she turned to him.

She had attempted to restore order to her hair, but still, it fell from the clip at the top of her head, long red strands cascading to the middle of her back as she flashed ire-filled neon green eyes at him.

Her face was scratched; her stockings were ripped and barely covered her flesh. The dark gray skirt she had worn the day before was torn along one seam, flashing a pretty section of thigh. The matching blazer was stained with oil, the cuffs frayed in several places. Her once-pristine white shirt was now gray with soot and dirt. And nothing in the world had ever looked so damned pretty to him.

"So it is." He shrugged as though it didn't matter while removing his boots and setting them alongside Rachel's black low-heeled shoes.

Padding along the hardwood floor, Jonas walked to the other side of the room and opened the door to the bedroom he'd added on once he'd realized she was his mate.

It was meant to be Amber's bedroom. The large, airy room was connected to a full bath, which separated the master suite from the child's room.

It would now be Rachel's room, he thought with a sigh as he turned on the lights.

The queen-sized bed had been installed as he'd ordered just after arriving to Sanctuary. A crib bed sat along one wall, a mobile of lions, tigers and fairies attached to the headboard while a soft baby-sized comforter covered the fairy sheets.

This would have been Cassie Sinclair's work, he thought with a spurt of amusement. The girl was a fairy herself, he often thought, as he stepped inside and allowed Rachel to enter the room.

The large bed was a romantic creation. The sleigh design of the bed frame was tall and heavy. Thick pillows were piled along the headboard, while a heavy blue-and-white quilt covered the mattress. His lips quirked at the sight of the small bed stool at the side of the bed, which made it easier for one of shorter stature to get into the bed easily.

"Surely there is another empty cabin." Her tone was weary, resigned.

"Sorry, sweetheart, this is it." Jonas crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down at her. "And you'll be safer here than you would be anywhere else. As will the baby."

She flashed him a hard stare. "Safer? With Brandenmore in custody . . ."

"Brandenmore escaped." Imparting that information wasn't easy for him. "He managed to make it to a heli-jet awaiting him several blocks from your home. He arrived in Iran several hours ago."

"Iran." Her eyes closed for a brief second and she turned from him. "One of the few places where Breeds can't touch him."

"Unfortunately, yes," he agreed. "The Genetics Council made an agreement with several countries such as Iran at the onset of the Breed rescues. That, combined with their radical views where the Breeds are concerned, have left little negotiating room with such countries."

Rachel moved across the room to the crib, where she turned on the small table lamp next to the child's bed. Then she glanced at Jonas.

He turned off the brighter overhead light and watched as she tucked Amber in.

Next to the crib was a line of bottles; beneath the stand that held the light were stacks of baby diapers. The shelf above the diapers held wipes and lotions, medicated diaper rash salve as well as a small case of baby first aid paraphernalia. Anything a mother could need to take care of her child.

The dresser at the bottom of the crib held clothes: sack gowns, pajamas and tiny outfits as well as socks, little head-bands and assorted baby girl accessories. Jonas had been specific when he'd ordered the room prepared. The exclusive baby store in Buffalo Gap had opened its doors at three in the morning to ensure that the child was provided with everything she would need.

Moving efficiently, Rachel stripped the child, cleaned her with several wipes, then diapered and dressed her in a clean gown in a matter of minutes.

As he watched, Jonas felt the glands at the side of his tongue tightening, filling with the mating hormone as they began to itch and ache. The need to mate her, to mark her, would eventually make him insane, he believed.

"The closet has clothing for you." He nodded to the large walk-in closet on the far side of the room. "I sent one of the Coyote females who's currently assigned to Sanctuary. They seem to be more girly than most of our Feline females. They assured me that you have everything you need."

"Tell me you didn't send Ashley." Rachel turned back to him, a look of almost horror on her face.

Jonas hid his smile. Ashley was the scourge of the entire Breed society. Sociable, so girly it gave a man a toothache, and able to kill with a smile. The woman made friends left and right, bought enough clothes to fill a small house and could talk all day about shoes and purses.

"It was her sister, actually." Her younger sister wasn't much better, but Rachel wasn't aware of that.

"Where did the whole genetic profiling go wrong with those women." Rachel shook her head. "They'll slice your throat for causing them to break a nail."

That wasn't far off the mark.

"They were coddled." Jonas shrugged. "The lab that had these girls in Russia was secretly attempting to aid their escapes or rescues. They had complete control of the Breeds there with no oversight, mostly because the Council was unaware there were Coyote females. They were allowed to develop traits that other Breeds were never given the chance to find within themselves."

And they were still spoiled. The five Coyote females were given the funds for their pretty clothes, their shoes and purses by the Coyote leader and his Coya. They were still coddled and still protected in ways that other Feline females scoffed at. And still, they were just as tough, just as merciless in battle, yet quicker to smile, to make friends and to endear the human population to the Breed cause.

"I'll shower, then, and head to bed." The look Rachel gave him was firm. It was time for him to leave.

Jonas nearly growled in frustration.

Patience, he warned himself. He'd spent so long assuring himself that he could control the mating heat because they shared few intimacies. He could keep from taking her, he could keep from destroying her.

That was no longer an option. As she had stated earlier, he wasn't an animal. Well, he was, but there was a side of him that was more than instinct as well. There was the strategist, and soon, there would be the seducer.

No battle was won purely with a show of strength, he told himself as he left her room, closing the door quietly behind him. Every battle won was done so with the right strategy as well as the proper weapons.

He simply had to determine when and where to begin the first skirmish.

As he set the alarms on the cabin and retired to his own bedroom, he found himself almost smiling. If he wasn't very careful, then he might actually have fun seducing his little mate. As dangerous as he knew claiming her would be, it could perhaps be even more dangerous
not
to claim her.

CHAPTER 4

Ghost Team moved into Sanctuary late that evening, as Rachel and Amber slept soundly. Called back from a mission that was only partially finished in Guatemala, they were flown into the compound under the dead of night under condition "Alpha." Complete secrecy.

Jonas knew the second they entered his cabin, that sixth sense when it came to the team he had put together himself and commanded for ten years now.

Stepping from his bedroom, he checked the door to Rachel's bedroom, secured it to ensure she didn't step into the room, and faced the six-member team standing silently in the living room.

Ghost Team was the best. They were the most silent, most efficient, killers ever created, and they were also the best-kept secret the Breeds held outside of the truth of the mating heat.

Standing front and center was the team commander, the Black Jaguar Breed, who had excelled in killing at the tender age of five when he had sliced a trainer's throat for daring to backhand him. He was merciless, cold. He was as hard as diamonds and, often, just as cold.

"Your mate?" The commander nodded to the secured bedroom door.

Jonas nodded. "Brandenmore made his move on the files he believes I had. He used the baby against her and attempted to force her to steal them for him."

Fierce black eyes glanced toward the door once more before Jag shook his black head in resignation. "We should just kill him."

"We need to capture him if possible," Jonas reminded him. "But I have a larger problem. He attempted to kidnap Rachel's child. The baby was injected with what Amburg believes was a sedative, but there's a scent to the child now that wasn't there before. Whatever he's doing, it now involves her. I want a net around Rachel, the baby and the other hybrid children here at Sanctuary. I don't have a good feeling about this."

He could feel that odd twist in his guts, the premonition that something was building, that Brandenmore had a plan that they hadn't yet foiled.

"Indigestion," Jag quipped. "Brandenmore inspires it."

That was the damned truth. At this rate, Jonas would be the first Breed to develop an ulcer.

"We came in along the east border of the compound," Lobo, Jag's second-in-command, stated from the shadows along the far corner of the room. "There was a scent marker there, and signs that someone had used the ravine there to make their way into Sanctuary. We followed it until it disappeared along the main road."

"Were you able to detect the scent marker?" Jonas kept his voice low, his senses tuned to the next room.

Jag shook his head. "There was a faint hint of human scent, but it was too old for the trail we found."

"Too old or deliberately laid." The Coyote Enforcer, Loki, stepped forward, his gray eyes dark, the thick black lashes surrounding them looking almost too soft, too seductive, for the most elite killer the world might ever know.

"What did you detect, Loki?" Jonas asked.

Loki shook his head, the thick, straight strands of his devil's black hair feathering over his forehead and along his shoulders. "Don't know, Jonas. There was something odd about it though, as though the scent had been deliberately altered in some way."

Jonas turned to Jag, Lobo and the other members of Ghost Team.

"The rest of us didn't detect that, but Loki's ability to detect scents is better than ours." The other Coyote, Angel, growled the information, which was no less than Jonas had expected.

Watching Angel closely, he noticed the other man watching the bedroom door closely.

"Is there a problem, Angel?" Jonas asked softly, his tone dropping dangerously.

Angel shook his head, his black-and-gray hair shorter than Loki's, but just as silken and straight.

"I've no interest in your woman, Jonas," Angel assured him.

"Then why the interest in the door?"

"He likely senses what I smell." Loki stepped forward.

"And that is?" Jonas's head swung around.

"Your mate is awakening," Angel growled, drawing their attention. "That's what I sense. She'll be out in moments, and I'm certain you don't want us seen."

No one had ever seen Ghost Team other than Jonas. Jonas doubted the six men had ever faced another Breed or human without some sort of camouflage.

"If you see anything, if you learn anything, then let me know." Jonas nodded, still watching Angel closely.

There was no detecting a lie with these Breeds. Like Jonas, they had been taught how to use their emotions to trick other Breeds or animals. How to lie, to manipulate and deceive.

They nodded quickly before disappearing. Between one blink and the next, they were gone. Silently, blending in with shadows, moving quickly, taking advantage of the slightest weakness--that was what they were trained for before escaping into the pre-dawn darkness.