Coyote's Mate (49 page)
Authors: Lora Leigh
She felt too feminine and too physically weak. She felt like those silly little twits that cooed and ahhed at the sight of him. The ones she hated because they lusted after him with such determination. The slinky little redheads that hung to his arm. The vapid little brunettes she had seen him squire around. She detested each and every one.
“You’re normally up rather late,” he stated, his voice low as his gaze flickered to her laptop. The one she hadn’t turned on all day. “I expected you to be working on whatever story you were coming up with.” There was an edge of suspicion in his voice.
Could he smell her nerves along with her arousal? Probably. But who wasn’t nervous around him?
“I was restless tonight.” She shrugged, moved across the room and headed to the open kitchen.
“I’m going to fix a pot of coffee. Interested?” In the coffee, she should have said. She wished he was interested in something more.
She felt him follow her. Like a heated breath of air at her back, she could feel him behind her as she moved into the kitchen and headed for the counter.
“Nothing for me.”
No coffee, tea, or me, she thought sarcastically.
She lifted her shoulder negligently. “Suit yourself.”
Silence filled the room as she programmed the coffeemaker and flipped it on. Within seconds the scent of hot, rich coffee began to fill the room.
Cassa turned then and faced the one man, the Breed, she couldn’t seem to help but be fascinated by.
He looked far different now than he had nearly eleven years before during his rescue from the labs in France where he had been held.
There, he had been bloodied, slashed, bruised, near death but still fighting to survive in a pit filled with stakes and slashing blades. His pride had fallen around him. Women, children, young men. His screams of rage still haunted her nightmares, as did the knowledge that she had played a part in him being there.
Guilt seared her with a slash of pain that raced across her chest and a sense of fear that never failed to weaken her knees. And he sensed it, just as he always did. She watched his eyes darken, his body tense as the scent of it reach him.
“You’re always frightened of me. Why?”
After all these years, he had finally asked. Strange, she’d always imagined that question, and she’d always had a glib reply ready. Now, the words wouldn’t come. Her tongue felt heavy, her mouth dry as she stared back at him and fought back the truth.
“Feminine wariness?” She asked a question rather than giving an answer. Breeds could smell a lie, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of smelling hers.
“And arousal?” His head tilted to the side as though the knowledge of it were a curiosity to him.
“I bet a lot of women are aroused by you.” She was careful to keep her tone even, calm. No nervousness, no hint of guilt. She’d learned over the years how to cover most of her responses when around Breeds. They sensed too much, knew too much. And Cassa had far too many secrets.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” he stated as he continued to watch her much too closely.
“Why the fear?”
Cassa could only shake her head. And stare. She stared at those golden flecks in his eyes, unable to break the hold they had on her. She wanted, no, she ached to touch him, and that was by far the most dangerous impulse she had ever known.
“You should leave,” she finally forced herself to say, to speak the damning words she always hated voicing.
His lips quirked mockingly. “You’re always running from me, Cassa. Why is that?”
Why was that? Possibly because he was the most dangerous individual that she could ever have in her life?
Shoving her hands into the pockets of her robe, she pressed her lips together and forced herself to look away from him. A second later, her gaze flew back to him, her eyes widening as he stepped closer to her.
Heat suddenly raced through her veins in a frightening wave of pure lust. Cassa felt her hands fisting in her pockets as she fought to step back, fought to keep from touching him.
Cabal paused as he watched her, his eyes narrowing on her as he watched her pale. He had never seen so many expressions race across a female’s face before. Fear, trepidation, lust and confusion. She was tense, fighting herself and the arousal he could smell reaching out to him through the fruity scents of her shower.
He wanted to wash away the unnatural scents. He wanted to smell the fresh, sweet scent he knew she possessed and called her own. A scent headier than that of sunrise in the summer as it touched upon the mountains around them.
He knew what was at play here, as well as what was at stake. He should have never waited for her to come out of the shower. The moment he knew she was there, he should have left. But something had intrigued him.
As he had stood outside her bathroom door listening to the water running, he had been unable to smell her. Until the scents of shampoo and soap had filled the heated air, there had been nothing but the smell of water for long minutes.
He could smell the woman now, beneath the layers of pears and apples, it was there, drawing him, tempting him. But it hadn’t been there when he had first arrived.
He stepped closer, smelled her fear increase, as well as her arousal.
Damn her. She was wet. He could almost taste the silky heat he knew would be dampening her thighs. How wet was she, he wondered. How hot?
His fingertips itched with the need to press between her silky thighs and find out. To feel the silken rain of dampness, to draw his fingers through it, then his tongue. The need to taste her was almost overpowering his need to simply touch her.
“You’re not answering me, Cassa,” he reminded her of the question he had asked. “Why are you always trying to run me off?”
She inhaled roughly, then her tongue, pink and damp, raced across her lips. Soft, pink lips. Lips he longed to lick himself.
Hell, this was getting out of control.
“Look we’re both aware of the freaky stuff going on with the Breeds right now,” she finally stated. “Mating heat and uncontrolled, frenzied sex. I prefer to keep a safe distance between myself and all of you.”
“We’re both also well aware of the fact that once mating heat begins, it doesn’t stop,” he reminded her. “It becomes painful.” He felt his voice lowering as the heavy length of his cock throbbed in anticipation. “You can’t deny it. Do you feel the need to rub all over me Cassa? Do you want it so bad it hurts?”
God, he did. He wanted it until nothing else mattered. It enraged the animal within him that he denied himself the taste of her, that he denied the heat he knew awaited them. She snorted at the question and rolled her expressive gray eyes. “Get real.” Such a deceptive little baggage. He almost smiled at the knowledge that she was trying to hide her need from him. Cabal allowed his lips to quirk in amusement and forced himself to step back. Her scent was there where it hadn’t been before. Perhaps something else had been at play to fool his senses earlier, he thought, though he doubted it. He looked around the kitchen, searched for answers where he knew none existed, then turned back to her. “When are you leaving Haven?” he finally asked. “I have the heli-jet in the morning, we could drop you off at your offices in New York if you wish.” Her brows lifted. “That’s very generous of you, but I’m meeting with the lupina and prima in the morning.” The alpha mates, Hope Gunnar and Merinus Lyons. Both were present at Haven after the joining ceremony of the Coyote alpha and his mate. He nodded slowly and turned to the door.
“Perhaps next time,” he offered instead. “Yeah, I’ll remind you of that.” Her voice was cockier now that he was retreating. Cabal found it amusing, and definitely intriguing. “You do that, Cassa,” he drawled, as he stopped at the door and turned back to her. His gaze raked over her robe clad form. Brillant red little toenails peeked out beneath the long, thick robe. They curled against the warm floor and the scent of her became heated and filled with desire.
God, he did. He wanted it until nothing else mattered. It enraged the animal within him that he denied himself the taste of her, that he denied the heat he knew awaited them.
She snorted at the question and rolled her expressive gray eyes. “Get real.”
Such a deceptive little baggage. He almost smiled at the knowledge that she was trying to hide her need from him.
Cabal allowed his lips to quirk in amusement and forced himself to step back. Her scent was there where it hadn’t been before. Perhaps something else had been at play to fool his senses earlier, he thought, though he doubted it.
He looked around the kitchen, searched for answers where he knew none existed, then turned back to her.
“When are you leaving Haven?” he finally asked. “I have the heli-jet in the morning, we could drop you off at your offices in New York if you wish.”
Her brows lifted. “That’s very generous of you, but I’m meeting with the lupina and prima in the morning.”
The alpha mates, Hope Gunnar and Merinus Lyons. Both were present at Haven after the joining ceremony of the Coyote alpha and his mate.
He nodded slowly and turned to the door. “Perhaps next time,” he offered instead.
“Yeah, I’ll remind you of that.” Her voice was cockier now that he was retreating. Cabal found it amusing, and definitely intriguing.
“You do that, Cassa,” he drawled, as he stopped at the door and turned back to her.
His gaze raked over her robe clad form. Brillant red little toenails peeked out beneath the long, thick robe. They curled against the warm floor and the scent of her became heated and filled with desire.
“Good-bye Cabal,” she hinted strongly.
Yes, she wanted him out of her cabin, out of her life. As she had stated, she knew about mating heat. She had to suspect the reason for the strength of her desire. Just as she was denying it.
Anger surged through him at the thought of it, as it always did each time she avoided him or went out of her way to let him know he was encroaching on her space.
“Until later, Cassa,” he said softly. It was a warning rather than a promise.
He’d thought he was meant to be alone, that finding his mate would be something that would never happen, at least not this quickly. The year before, at his brother’s mating, Cabal had felt the loss of the only true connection he’d had in his life. Until he’d met the reporter who had insisted on interviewing his new sister-in-law. She was pushy, inquisitive and too damned tempting. And she was his mate. He’d sensed it, known it, even though he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself during that first meeting.
In the months after that, he’d stopped denying it. He’d accepted it. And now, he was losing the battle in his attempt not to force her to accept it.
“Until later, Cabal.”
Was that regret he heard in her voice, he wondered as he opened the door and returned to the rainy darkness beyond? Did he hear knowledge in her voice, as well as hunger?
He shook his head and closed the door carefully behind him, blocking out the scent of her, though there was nothing that could block his need for her.
He had a job to do. He didn’t have time for a mating. He had a killer to find, not a mate to claim.
The darkness stretched ahead of him. Darkness as shadowed and bleak as the life he led. And still, he walked away. From his mate.
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COYOTE’S MATE
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / February 2009
Copyright © 2009 by Christina Simmons.
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