Rule Breaker: A Novel of the Breeds (14 page)

Wyatt was known as a man who kept his business promises, though; hopefully that meant he wouldn’t destroy her parents’ dreams when his commander didn’t get the bed bunny he was hoping for.

And wouldn’t her contact within the Unknown be jumping for joy at the prospect of her working so closely with the very enforcer they suspected was investigating them? The one they feared had found evidence to identify one of them?

“This is just what we needed.” Her father was all but walking on air.

“This contract will definitely up the office’s prestige.” Jason was all but crowing like a cocky little bantam rooster, she thought in disgust.

“So, when is this little party?” she asked them, barely able to muster a false smile, let alone any excitement at all.

“Well, the party is a little short notice.” Her mother was really nervous now, though. “It’s in a week, but I’m certain we can accommodate the date.”

She was going to scream.

“That is so past very short notice, Mother, that it’s ludicrous. The only gowns we have at the moment are the ones commissioned for the Lanceister Ball. There’s not enough time to commission for that ball and attend this one as well. And we’ve already committed to the Lanceisters; we can’t back out,” she reminded her mother, pushing her fingers deep, deep into the pockets of her capris to hide her fists. “Perhaps Director Wyatt should just look into a later announcement to the press. One that isn’t so—”

“We’ve already discussed it with the Lanceisters and Mr. Wyatt, Gypsy,” Jason informed her firmly, pointedly ignoring the sharp look she directed his way. Since when the hell was he king of the mountain around here? “The party was arranged a bit quickly, but the caliber of the guests demands a more formal atmosphere and dress. Never fear, there’s time to arrange more dresses for this fall. You and your mother could even make a trip to L.A., perhaps, and do a bit of shopping there. Or New York.”

She wanted to curl her lip into an insulting little sneer as Jason watched her with an unfamiliar gleam of triumph. What the hell was his agenda with this little party anyway? Getting her and her mother on a shopping trip? Did he really think it was going to work like it did in the movies? They’d come home all mushy-mushy and her parents would have forgotten the part she played in Mark’s death?

She didn’t think so.

But, as he said, getting new gowns wasn’t an issue. It was the idea of such short notice for such a very important event. Press notices needed to be arranged, a list of guests needed vetting and discussions were needed with the reporters affiliated with McQuade Image Consulting to discuss the articles that would best portray the Breeds as benefiting the area socially and financially.

The fact that Wyatt was acting as though this were something that could just be thrown together worried her even more than the dress situation did.

She let Jason and her parents ramble on about opportunities, clients and contracts, unwilling to burst their bubble. Hopefully, Jonas Wyatt wasn’t playing some cruel hoax at Commander Breaker’s behest and could manage to do his magic as normal until her parents could pull in their own magic. If this was some game, or joke, then she just might sue.

Or threaten to anyway.

Even she had heard about the hungry volcano Jonas was rumored to introduce his enemies to on occasion.

It was enough to make her want to kick Wyatt
and
his commander.

“A car will be picking us up for the ball,” her mother informed her as Gypsy came to her feet, preparing to leave the office. “You can have the next week off to get ready. Be sure to call the boutique this afternoon and see if Connie can get you in before the meeting this evening.”

Connie.

Gypsy almost sighed.

That was a very subtle hint that her mother thought her hair needed trimming and her nails might need some work. Greta McQuade was very particular about appearance when it came to McQuade Image Solutions. She slid an unobtrusive look to her nails.

Okay, she might need a manicure.

“And the meeting with Director Wyatt and his commander is this evening, don’t forget.” Her mother was sounding more worried now than she had moments before. “I’ll call Connie and see if she can’t get both of us in within the next few hours myself.”

Connie loved her mother.

The beautician had nearly gone bankrupt several years before, and it had been Greta McQuade who had used a few favors, worked a little magic, and within six months, Connie’s salon couldn’t keep up with the influx of appointments being requested. Gypsy had no doubt in her mind that Connie would schedule them within the next two hours.

“Just let me know,” Gypsy replied in resignation.

She couldn’t refuse the job, couldn’t let her parents down like that. And from the small, satisfied smile on Jason’s face, he knew it.

“Gypsy.” Her father’s quiet voice had her turning to him, his somber features warning her of what was to come now. And it was a discussion she simply couldn’t face.

“Can we talk later, Dad?” She was not in the mood for another lecture.

“No, we can’t.” His firm tone had her tensing as she watched him warily, aware of Jason’s frown as he sat forward slowly at the sound of Hans’s sharp tone.

“I want to know what you’re doing,” he told her, his former excitement suddenly gone as he went from business owner to father in less than a heartbeat.

She gave him a deliberately confused look. “Doing?” Lifting her hands in a gesture of uncertainty, she gave her head a little shake. “I’m not doing anything. Mom said she was going to contact Connie. I need to go home, shower and figure out what I’m going to wear to this meeting and get ready for it.”

The disapproval in his gaze had shame burning a hole in her stomach lining. Because most of that was a lie as well as a carefully worded reminder that a fight would only spoil this meeting for all of them.

“You were at one of the border bars last night. Director Wyatt mentioned it while we were talking this morning,” he reminded her. “How does it look when our finest image consultant, our daughter, is a regular at one of the most disreputable bars in the state? Have you forgotten we fired one of your cousins for just such a thing?”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Milly was a tramp. She was screwing her way through the bars as well as drinking her way through them. Neither of which I’m doing. Stop worrying.”

“That bar is dangerous, Gypsy.” Her mother had slid her hands from the table to hide them. To hide her clenched fingers, Gypsy knew. It was her mother’s way of coping and staying calm.

“That bar is fine—”

“That’s what your brother said about that same damned bar a week before you were attacked and he was killed. He thought he could mix with that crowd and survive. He didn’t survive it, and I’ll be damned if I want to bury another of my children,” her father burst out, causing her to freeze instantly.

She couldn’t speak. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. For a moment, one bleak, horrifying moment, the memories almost overwhelmed her, almost broke her once again.

She made herself meet her mother’s gaze and flinched, barely able to hold back a pain-filled cry at the accusation in that look.

In her father’s, there was immeasurable pain.

She couldn’t speak. She tried to. She tried to excuse herself, to apologize, but all she could do was see her father’s face as it was when he arrived in the desert that night.

Bleak. As tearstained as her mother’s. Standing next to the medic transport where her brother’s body had been placed. They had both looked at her, then stopped and looked back at Mark before her mother had collapsed and her father had tried to deal with her loss as well as his own.

Gypsy had stood there, alone, until Jonas Wyatt and Lawe Justice had come to either side of her, their warmth holding back the icy desert night.

“I told you,” she whispered as she felt Jonas staring down at the top of her head. “Who could want me . . .”

Turning, she rushed from the office, ignoring her mother’s protest, her father’s demand that she come back to the office.

From the corner of her eye she glimpsed Jason rising quickly from the table and her younger sister at the front counter, head down, her expression saddened.

Of course Kandy had heard the last of that conversation.

The door hadn’t been closed.

Rushing past her, Gypsy jerked the door open and strode into the brilliant heat and sunshine that enveloped Window Rock before moving quickly to where she’d parked her Jeep across the street in front of the store.

She wasn’t going to discuss her brother, or listen to another of her parents’ attempts to excuse what had happened. They tried, she gave them credit. They tried so hard to pretend that it wasn’t her fault that their son, their only son, had been killed because of their elder daughter. And for the most part, she let them. But more and more often her father was berating her for her evening activities, concern and suspicion filling his gaze each time he did so.

He didn’t know what she was doing. She knew he and her mother suspected she was drinking too much, perhaps worried she was into more than just a few beers. After all, what more could they expect? Her determination to go to a party at fifteen had been the reason her brother was murdered by Coyote Breeds. The reason all their lives had been torn apart.

She couldn’t reassure them. She couldn’t tell them what she was doing. But she wouldn’t have, even if she could. Let them think she was far less than what she was; it would only protect them if the unthinkable happened and the Breeds or the Unknown’s enemies ever suspected her.

And protecting them was all that mattered.

Which was why she intended to have a nice little conversation with Commander Rule Breaker concerning his part in the contract her parents believed they were being offered.

He needed to understand, now, before it went any further. There wasn’t a chance in hell that she was going to become his lover. Losing her virginity meant losing her last link to her brother, and she didn’t think she could bear the guilt of it if she did so.

She’d lived so many years alone, without allowing anyone close enough to her to be harmed that she had no idea how to let anyone in anymore.

Even Khileen, once her best friend, rarely attempted to continue their friendship anymore. The Coyote Breed females Ashley and Emma had come closest to her, and nearly losing Ashley had given her more nightmares than she wanted to consider.

She didn’t need anyone—

She couldn’t finish the thought.

She escaped instead and assured herself she was strong enough to do this. She could resist Commander Breaker and any desire he filled her with.

Yet the taste of chocolate and peppermint lingered in her senses and left her craving more of the Breed’s kiss.

Craving it enough that she began to worry . . .

CHAPTER 7

She found Rule several hours later, after missing the appointment with Connie and her mother, spending precious time hunting him down rather than preparing for that damned meeting.

He was on duty, she’d been told by several sources, no doubt in town someplace overseeing the enforcers under his command.

She found his Dragoon parked behind a small stand of cottonwood trees outside town where the new division headquarters were rumored to be located.

Not that he was alone.

Dane Vanderale was of course with him, as were Dog, Loki, Mutt and another Coyote she’d only seen a few times who answered to Mongrel.

Pulling the Jeep to a hard stop mere feet from the arrogant commander who of course refused to so much as step back an inch, she watched his eyes, intent, somber as he met her gaze through the windshield.

The others showed varying degrees of surprise, with the exception of Dane, who just laughed.

Slamming out of the vehicle, she stalked around the front of it to confront the Breed determined to drive her insane.

“You are behind this.” She shoved her finger imperiously at his broad chest. “And don’t even bother denying it. I know you’re behind it.”

She was almost shaking with anger and she was damned if she could even explain why the match had been struck to her temper. She just knew it was his damned fault. She just knew she needed someplace to expend that anger before it destroyed her.

...

“Dog, Dane, find someplace to be,” Rule ordered quietly as he saw the Jeep bearing down on them and glimpsed the set expression of the young woman at the wheel.

“Sure, Breaker,” Dane drawled. “Tell me, should we worry about your safety or her virtue?”

“Go,” he growled as the Jeep slammed to a stop within feet of him and she exited it like a whirlwind of fury.

Of pain.

Words wouldn’t have struck at him nearly as deep as the agony rolling off her in waves and the sense that the tears trapped inside her were slowly drowning her.

He was only barely aware of the others moving for their vehicles as a slender finger poked toward him and jade green eyes darkened as she fought to find an outlet for the clawing, agonizing pain tearing at her.

“So what vile deed am I behind, Gypsy?” He frowned down at her, sensing that the gentleness that softened his heart to her would be instantly rejected.

No, she needed a fight. She needed to lash out and she needed to be held. But she would be damned before she would ask anyone to hold her.

“That crazy offer Jonas gave my parents.” She was shaking with the anger, the pain. “Image consulting?” she sneered. “For what? You’re masters of building your own image. Breeds were created for it. Master manipulators and scheming, calculating . . .”

He acted before she could say something that would only hurt her more once the pain tearing at her eased.

Reaching out quickly, gripping the hair at the back of her neck and pulling her head back, he covered her lips with his as a growl burst from his chest.

She was killing him with the hurt raging at her tender soul. She was breaking his heart with the scent of her loneliness, her utter desolate hunger and the unmistakable desire to just be held.

His Gypsy would never accept being just held, though.

But she did take his kiss.

Her arms latched around his neck. With a shattered groan her head tilted to the side as his lips slanted across hers. His tongue sank inside the hot silken depths of her mouth as she met it immediately with her own. Rubbed against it. Licked at him and tasted him as he tasted her.

Pain was replaced by pleasure and hunger in the space of a heartbeat. Her pleasure. His greedy demand. And God knew he was starved for her. So fucking hungry for her kiss, for the taste of her that it was killing him.

The skimpy little cami tank she wore and too-short cutoff jeans were little protection against his touch, against his intent.

His tongue played with hers, challenging her with little flicks against it. Nipping her lips if she tried to draw back, he picked her up easily, turned her and stepped to the opened back passenger door of the Dragoon.

Laying her back across the wide bench seat, he jerked the hem of her shirt to the full, lace-covered mounds of her breasts as he moved over her.

A flick of his fingers released the little front catch, spilling the lush curves to his waiting hand. Bracing a knee between her thighs to hold himself over her, as pleasure tore past their control.

He’d be damned if he could bear the pain she’d arrived with. Replacing it with hunger, with need, even if he knew her ire would be sorely raised later, was much preferable.

Much more enjoyable.

Moving his lips from hers, his kisses sliding to her neck, teeth raking against her flesh, a growl escaped him. A sweet feminine presence he hadn’t known he’d opened himself to was suddenly within his senses. Her pleasure became a part of him.

Hell, this hadn’t happened before. Her needs echoed through his mind as the impression of his lips against her nipples, his teeth nipping, pulling at them, his tongue stroking them sent a wave of heat ripping through his mind.

Lust clawed at him. His lips moved to her breasts. He was more than happy to fulfill that little need of hers. But as his lips covered a stiff, pointed little nipple and sucked it into his mouth, he became immersed in the needs clashing through her.

How had he ever enjoyed sex without this? Without the impression of his lover’s pleasure rocking his senses and amplifying his own sensations? It was so damned hot he was ready to come in his fucking pants.

His cock was stiffer than it had ever been, the engorged head pulsing, throbbing desperately. He gripped her nipple with his teeth, tugged at it and felt the echo of sensation lashing with brutal ecstasy at her delicate body.

Her hips lifted again, the heat of her pussy, the delicate scent of it driving spikes of hunger through his senses rubbed at his denim-covered cock.

She needed. Needed his hunger, needed his touch.

Sliding his hand down her stomach, her rising anticipation struck at his mind.

A fierce groan, part growl, erupted from him as he sucked her nipple into his mouth again while jerking the snaps of her cutoffs free and pushing his fingers beneath the material.

Heat poured from her. Her juices were saturating her panties, then saturating his fingers as he slid them into the swollen folds.

Slick, thick, moisture prepared her for him.

The scent of her tempted him, the heated sweet juices making his mouth water for the taste of her.

Drawing back, he stared back down at her, seeing her closed eyes, the mask of complete, absorbed hunger on her face.

“Look at me,” he rasped, the hunger tearing at him, straining his tenuous control.

Dark lashes lifted, green eyes stared back at him, dazed from her pleasure as he pulled his fingers from her pussy and brought them to his lips.

...

Gypsy jerked beneath Rule as he brought his fingers to his lips, the hard flesh glistening with the rich layer of her juices a second before he began sucking the taste of her from them.

Then his hips lowered to hers, the hard wedge of his cock driving into the vee of her thighs again as he pulled his fingers from his mouth and lowered his head.

“I could fuck you here.” The primal, graveled tone of his voice had her pussy clenching, more of her juices spilling from her vagina at the very thought of this powerful, erotic male doing just that. “I could strip that excuse for clothes from you and have you screaming with your orgasm within seconds.”

She gripped his waist, her head tilting back, her hips rocking against his as he ground his cock against her.

“Is this what you want, Gypsy? Here? Now? Should I take all that sweet innocence in the backseat of a fucking war machine?”

“Shut up,” she cried out desperately, her fingers suddenly curling into fists at the reminder that she was still innocent. Still a virgin. At the memory of why she’d never allowed herself to take a lover.

“Is this what you want?” he repeated, a hard hand gripping her ass and jerking her into the press of his erection between her thighs. “Tell me now. I’m two seconds from jerking those shorts from your body and giving you exactly what we’re both dying for.”

She shook her head desperately. Why wouldn’t he just do it? Why did he have to talk about it?

“Here and now?” His lips lowered to her, the hint of her feminine taste against her tongue as he took her lips in a brief, hard kiss. “Right here,” he repeated. “My dick sinking inside your sweet, tight pussy? I’ll ride you until we’re both dying from the pleasure if that’s what you want.”

She whimpered, the cry a ragged sound that shocked her, that reminded her how long it had been since she had truly cried. It reminded her how long she had needed to cry, to shed the agony destroying her.

“Just do it,” she cried out, her eyes opening, glaring up at him until the sight of his expression, his eyes, finally registered.

Lust tightened his features, filled the blue of his eyes, but there was more there than just the sexual hunger burning inside him. Something she swore she could
feel
. It wasn’t hunger. It wasn’t need, sympathy, compassion or pity. Something that felt like understanding. Like warmth surrounding her ragged emotions, a soothing touch in the depths of her soul as her chest tightened and her breathing hitched dangerously.

“Let me go.” She would not cry. She couldn’t cry.

He eased back slowly, but before he released her he resnapped the shorts, fixed her bra and gently pulled her tank back in place before allowing her to sit up.

She jumped from the Dragoon, her back turned to him as she stood beneath the searing sunlight and drew in several ragged breaths.

“I know what you did,” she finally whispered.

“What did I do that’s so heinous?” A rasp of remembered pleasure and hunger echoed in his tone.

“The offer from Jonas to my parents. You were behind it.”

She couldn’t even turn to see the expression on his face as she forced the accusation past her lips.

“Did I now?” he asked, the dark, seductive tone sending sensation racing across her flesh as the need for his touch came dangerously close to addiction. “Why would I do that, Gypsy?”

“For this.” She turned on him, her hand swinging out to gesture to the back of the Dragoon. “Do you really think that’s going to get you into my bed?”

Grave, intense, his gaze met hers, held it. And she felt it again. That soothing warmth sinking inside her chest and loosening the shields between her and a loss of control she couldn’t countenance.

“Gypsy.” He sighed her name with an edge of chastisement. “I could have just taken you in that backseat and you would have loved every second of it. Screamed for me. Begged to come for me. I touch you and we both go up in flames. Do you really think I’d stoop to the trouble of playing games to get what I want you to give me willingly? If that were true, you would still be lying beneath me, your nails raking down my back as I fucked us both half crazy.”

She flushed. She couldn’t help it. Hunger, embarrassment, that warmth she hated feeling tugging at her emotions, urging her into his arms, against his chest, where he would shelter her as the agony buried inside her, tore free.

“Stop!” she cried out desperately, her fingers sinking into the hair at the side of her head in desperation for one crazy second as she swore he was inside her. “God, you’re already making me crazy.” She glared at him accusingly. “You don’t have to fuck me into it. I’m already there.”

“I think I need that extra, added little push into insanity,” he told her far too seriously. “Shall we try it and see if it works?”

Her lips parted as she felt the disbelief suddenly covering her expression. She couldn’t believe him. She couldn’t control him.

His lips quirked with a hint of amusement as he watched her intently, his eyes appearing even bluer, more electric than before.

“The next time you need a hot little necking session, don’t expect to get away so easily,” he warned her. “The next time, you’re going to be on your knees with my dick working between your lips in exchange for all my restraint. You can stay a virgin as long as you think you have to, but if you want to play, then you can share the pleasure. Because I fully intend to have my tongue buried in all that sweet cream filling your pussy.”

That cream spilled copiously between her thighs, her vagina tightened with a hard clench of need and she swore her clit nearly exploded in climax.

His eyes darkened. “Get in that Jeep and get the fuck away from me, Gypsy,” he suddenly growled, his tone darker now, warning. “You have about ten seconds before I rip those shorts off your body and sit you firmly on my face. When I’ve eaten you until your taste has me crazy to fuck, then I’m going to do just that. Fuck you. Right here, in the middle of the fucking desert . . .”

She ran.

Heart pounding, adrenaline coursing through her because she wanted it with a power that sent terror racing through her. It was all she could do not to strip for him, not to go to her knees and beg him to take her mouth.

...

Dust flew as Gypsy reversed the Jeep before turning the wheel and speeding away from him even faster than she’d come speeding to him.

Propping his hands on his hips, he watched the vehicle as it disappeared around the curve of the highway seconds later, then blew out a hard, miserable breath.

Son of a bitch, his dick was stiffer than a poker, his balls so tight they felt knotted.

“Remind me to stay the hell away from the two of you when you get started.” It was Dog who growled the words out.

Rule swung around to watch as the Coyote moved from the small rise of stones across from the Dragoon.

“I told you to leave,” he growled, frowning back at the Coyote.

“You should have clarified,” Dog breathed out roughly. “Damn, Breaker, you get any hotter with that woman and I’m going to think you’re mating her or something.”

Rule chuckled at the thought. “Not even the first sign of Mating Heat,” he crowed.