Lion's Heat (20 page)

What she saw stole her breath. The need that reflected for that one second on his face was like nothing she had ever seen or known in her life. It was all-consuming, overwhelming.

Unlike Jonas, she didn't have the self-control to hide her own responses nearly so quickly, and she knew it. Heat surged through her body, raced through her bloodstream, and in less than a second had her clit throbbing and her vagina moist and clenching in need.

She watched as he slowly inhaled, drawing in the scent of her arousal, and thought just how unfair it was that he had that ability.

"You're stepping into very dangerous territory," he warned her as he crossed his arms over his chest, the white silk shirt he wore stretching over his broad shoulders. "If you have no desire to be a mate, then perhaps you should give a second thought to teasing me, Rachel."

Perhaps she should.

"I haven't refused to be your mate. I simply stated that I'm
not
your mate," she pointed out to him. "Just because some hormone in your system wants to turn me into your sex slave doesn't mean I would be anything more than just that."

Perhaps she was wrong. She had spent quite a bit of time watching Callan and Merinus and talking to the friend she had nearly lost contact with. What she had heard hadn't sounded too bad, simply inconvenient. She just didn't have time to be inconvenienced in such a way.

"Keep pushing me," he warned her as he stepped closer to her desk. "You may not like the results."

That wasn't arrogance talking, she realized. It was pure fact.

Shaking her head, she watched him with what she hoped was cool interest. She was actually burning alive for him.

"And here I was actually starting to like you," she told him. "What happened to the man who fixed me dinner, who feeds my daughter at night so I can sleep?"

"I may as well," he retorted. "I'm awake every night, tempted by the scent of your arousal. The walls may be thick, sweetheart, but they're not that damned thick that the scent of your sweet pussy doesn't leave me aching."

She flushed. She hated it when she did that. Damn it, she had red hair; it should be illegal to make her blush. Of course, she should also have hell's own temper, and she was actually rather calm. For the most part.

"I can do without your attitude, Jonas." She stood to her feet, her head held high, and wished she presented a more imposing image. He stared back at her with that small glimmer of amusement in his gaze.

The glare was gone. It was a look she didn't care much for anyway. When he glared, the gentleness that was a glimmer of warmth in his gaze was absent. She rather liked that little light of warmth.

"I could do without your stubbornness," he informed her. "I put up with it anyway."

"My stubbornness?" She propped her hands on her hips and stared back at him with a frown. "How am I stubborn? I am the least stubborn person I know."

His black brows arched as he leaned against the doorframe. "Least stubborn?" His lips quirked. "Let's see, what was your nickname in high school again? I know I saw that on the background check I had run on you."

Her eyes widened. "Don't you dare, Jonas Wyatt." She laughed. She hadn't heard that nickname since she'd graduated.

"I could be bribed to forget it for a minute." He almost grinned. That little twitch at the corner of his mouth was completely charming.

"Just for a minute?" She narrowed her eyes back at him warningly.

He was teasing her. Merinus had stated that Jonas never joked, that he never teased. Maybe it was that no one had ever paid attention to the unique way he did it. Or perhaps, he kept them too angry to pay attention.

"And what would be the price of forgetting?" She just had to push it, she couldn't help it.

The change that came over him was almost frightening. For a woman who had never known a man like Jonas, it could be terrifying.

His expression darkened; sensual, sexual awareness filled every inch of his face, gleamed in silver eyes that seemed to lighten, to burn with hunger.

"Jonas." As though that look alone were enough to weaken her, to turn her legs to jelly, Rachel leaned against the edge of her desk and held on for support.

Predatory awareness transformed his face as sensual hunger flamed in his eyes. Straightening, he moved from the door.

"Get out of here." The order that rasped from his lips shocked her. "Run, Rachel. Get away from me."

She shook her head. How was she supposed to run? She could barely breathe. The look on his face was all-consuming, filled with need--for her.

Had anyone ever needed her? Ever ached for her?

In all her life she'd never truly had anyone but her sister, and Diana had her battles. Danger was Diana's lover, her family, her friend. Amber was Rachel's responsibility. Devon had been a footnote in her and Amber's life, nothing more.

Yet Jonas ached for her. She could see it, she could feel it.

"Jonas . . ." She licked her suddenly dry lips as he moved closer.

"Do you know what I am?" he growled, his tone so rough, so primal, it sent shivers racing down her spine. "You don't even know the beast that draws you, do you, Rachel?"

"Running me off, are you? What about all this 'me Breed, you mate' crap you're always spouting?" She felt light-headed, sensitive. Her flesh was crawling with the need for his touch.

She couldn't blame it on mating heat. Ely had assured her it took more than the few brief touches they had shared to cause the need to rage inside her.

"I was created to be a breeder." He moved to her, his hands curving around her upper arms as she stared back at him, barely understanding what he was saying, her gaze locked on his lips. Lips she needed to taste, a kiss she hungered for in the dead of night and yet continued to deny herself.

"Are you listening to me, Rachel?" His lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl, revealing the strong, sexier than hell incisors at the sides of his mouth.

"A breeder." She had to fight to breathe now. "I heard you."

"I was created to breed the perfect killer."

She licked her lips again, wondered how he would taste.

"Yeah, well, I guess they had to have an excuse for creating someone so damned arrogant and certain of themselves." It made sense to her anyway, and she had to say something, otherwise he might believe she was as dumbfounded as she knew she was becoming.

A growl rumbled in his chest and vibrated in her pussy.

Oh Lord, what was happening to her?

Should arousal be this strong, this hot? She felt flushed, overheated, oversensitive.

"If you don't get the hell away from me, I'm going to kiss you." He shook her just a little. "Listen to me, Rachel. You don't feel the heat; I do. You don't know what it does. Trust me." One hand lifted, touched her chin and raised her face until she was staring into his eyes. "Listen to me, baby: You'll regret it."

She shook her head. How could she regret it?

"Just a little kiss," she whispered.

His eyes closed briefly. "A little kiss." When he reopened them, the irises had lightened further, the color swirling, burning.

"I want you," she whispered. "You know I do. Surely there's some way . . ."

"I don't have the control," he snarled.

"The king of control?" She shook her head in bemusement. "What is it, Jonas? All or nothing? You can't let me at least have a glimpse of what I'm getting into without forcing me to accept it all the way?"

She watched his face. His jaw clenched and bunched as rage seemed to flicker in his gaze.

Slowly, so slowly, his head lowered, his gaze holding hers as she watched a battle she couldn't understand flickering in his eyes.

"I would never force you," he whispered.

His lips touched hers. So slowly.

Rachel felt herself shaking from the inside out as she tried to part her lips. She tried to take more of him, only to have him hold her closer. His lips were closed, heated, sending fiery sensations racing through her nervous system as desire began to rage through her.

His hands stroked down her arms, drew them to his shoulders before his hands gripped her hips and jerked her closer.

Her lips parted on a gasp.

Jonas's head lifted, his lips moving to her neck, his teeth raking the sensitive flesh. The feel of his hardened cock pressed tight and hard against her as the position forced her legs to part.

Thin dress pants were no protection against the hardened length of his erection beneath his own slacks.

His cock was hot, hard. So thick and heavy against the overheated, swollen mound of her sex. Rachel couldn't help but try to lift herself closer, to grind her clit against the heated proof of the heavy shaft as the need for release suddenly overwhelmed her.

Jonas's large palm cupped the back of her head as it fell back. His lips stroked along her neck; his teeth raked, nipped. The feel of his incisors, wicked sharp, sent fiery pleasure tearing through her before it struck her womb, clenching it with ecstasy.

"Jonas." Weakness assailed her, yet adrenaline coursed through her. She needed more. She ached for more.

Just as quickly as he pulled her to him, she found herself free. Stumbling against the desk, she stared back at him in shock as he snarled.

"What . . . ?"

"I have work to do." He turned, stalked back to his office and slammed the door. A second later, the lock clicked, informing her with more than words that he wanted nothing more to do with her.

"Jonas." She whispered his name, her hand lifting to her neck and the stinging sensation she could still feel.

Touching dampness, she pulled back and stared at her fingers with wide eyes.

Blood.

"You're playing a very dangerous game, little girl."

Rachel turned quickly, off balance, shocked as she stared back at Dr. Ely Morrey.

Dressed in a heavy sweater, jeans and boots, she didn't look like the genius in Breed genetics that Rachel knew she was.

"How . . ." She blinked, swallowed tightly. "I didn't hear you come in."

Evidently, Jonas hadn't heard either.

"Come with me." She jerked her head beyond the door before stepping into the harsh chill of the mountain air.

Rachel followed, not quite certain why. Closing the door behind her, Ely glared back at Rachel, her brown eyes enraged.

"I heard more than I probably should have," Ely expressed in a precise, icy tone Rachel had never heard from her before. Anger glittered in her brown eyes, an anger Rachel didn't understand. "You ask that man for the impossible."

Rachel shook her head. "What do you mean, the impossible?"

"To ask him to touch you, to kiss you without sharing the mating hormone, without making you his, is like asking the sun to not rise in the morning or set in the evening. You're asking him to destroy himself."

Rachel shook her head. "You said the hormone had to be shared to produce such reactions. That it was okay . . ."

"For you," Ely snapped. "You walk around him daily, sleep in his cabin, share his day and you don't suffer. Because he respects your desire to wait. Because he will not force this on you, no matter the pain he feels. You do this to him, and you don't even care about the effect on him."

Ely's face flushed with her anger.

"Ely, we haven't shared the mating hormone." Panic was beginning to set in, a fearful realization struggling to reveal itself inside her mind. Her heart.

"
You
haven't shared it with him," Ely snarled back at her. "You haven't tasted what drives him insane with need and pain because he can't have what nature is demanding he take, no matter how it must be taken. You don't suffer into the night, so aroused that it feels your flesh is peeling from your bones. You don't breathe and smell nothing but the scent of hunger and need that clings to the one who desires you, yet refuses you. You, Ms. Broen, aren't tortured with an agony that even the labs couldn't compare because there is no relief, there is no release."

"He has a hand," she shot back, furious. "Don't tell me he can't find relief. What am I asking for? A chance to love him rather than be tied to him without the benefit of a choice?"

"A hand?" Ely's tone was clipped, frosty with disgust. "In this, my dear, he has no 'hand,' as you so eloquently phrase it. No amount of masturbation will help; it will only make the agony greater. Each time he touches you, breathes in the scent of your desire, touches your flesh. Each time, the hunger is a thousand times worse than starvation. It's like having a limb ripped from his body. What you just did to him is greater disservice than those Council scientists could have ever done to him."

"All I wanted was a kiss," she whispered, horrified at what Ely was telling her. "I would never deliberately hurt him."

Ely glared back, refusing to soften. "You are to him something greater than even your child is to you. If you don't know now that you love him or that you could love him, then the best gift you could give him is to leave, completely. That, or stop being such a child and accept the gift he would give you." Censure glittered in her eyes. "If you're woman enough. Which at this point, I very much doubt you are."

CHAPTER 11

Rachel couldn't imagine the pain Ely had described to her. She couldn't imagine anyone enduring such pain, even Jonas. The man accused of being stone-cold ice inside.

After she returned to her desk, Jonas walked from his office, staring back at her, his expression perfectly calm and perfectly composed.

"I apologize for biting you so hard," he stated, his tone no longer tortured. "It was an accident, Rachel. One that won't be repeated."

She watched him now, trying to see beyond the calm expression to the torment Ely swore was a part of the mating heat.

She should have questioned him more, she thought. She should have taken the time, no matter the danger at first, and the business of their routine in the past week, to learn more about what she was refusing.

"Do you love me, Jonas?" The question slipped past her lips, almost unbidden.

She had always dreamed of love, not mating heat. Commitment. Loyalty. Faithfulness.