Rule Breaker: A Novel of the Breeds (19 page)

She could taste the chocolate and peppermint candies he was known to enjoy. The taste of the sweet was licked onto her tongue as he pressed past her lips and stroked over it. It filled her senses and gave her a whole new appreciation of the candy.

The stroke of his hands down her back caused her to arch closer, pleasure rasping over the sensitive flesh, then exploding across her lower back as they slipped beneath her blouse.

Had she ever wanted to be touched in this way? Had she ever wanted a man to stroke her flesh, to tear her from the safe confines of her world and into a heady, chaotic storm of pleasure? Had she ever craved having all her plans for vengeance destroyed for a single man’s touch?

She hadn’t, she knew. Heat rushed through her as his nails scraped down her back lightly, rasping over her flesh and causing her to press closer to him. To rub herself against him as she felt the iron-hard, thick wedge of his erection beneath his jeans.

The impression of that erect flesh was large, too large, perhaps.

And she swore she could feel the heat of the engorged flesh through his jeans and hers as he pressed closer to her.

A tugging heat at her scalp had her head tilting back for him, her lips parting further as he began taking long, deep kisses from her. Sipping at her lips, nipping at them, only to rub the ache away with his far too experienced tongue.

“I want to taste you just like that.” His head lifted, his lips only brushing against hers as she forced her eyes to open, to stare up at him.

“What?” She couldn’t believe he meant—

“I want my tongue between your thighs, lapping at the sweet, hot cream I can smell dripping from you. I want to catch it on my lips, taste you on my tongue, then lick between your inner lips until it’s buried in the sweet heat hidden there.”

She gasped; her vagina clenched with such hard, involuntary spasms that the juices gathering there were suddenly forced to flow from her and further dampen her panties.

“You like that,” he growled. “Admit it, Gypsy. You want my lips there.”

His hand was suddenly between her thighs, cupping her mound, his fingers pressing firmly into the material where the moisture fell from her. The pad of his hand ground against her clit, rubbing it in short, erotic strokes that had her breath catching.

It was so good. So hot. She’d never even fantasized about a man touching her like this, of drawing such pleasure from her body that she suddenly wondered at the small amount of control she had over it.

“Your body knows me, Gypsy,” he warned her, his teeth nipping at her lips as he urged her to part them for him again. “It knows the pleasure I can give it, the heated caresses and the sweet release.”

A muffled cry, barely smothered, escaped her lips as his lips moved from hers and began spreading a line of kisses over her jaw and down her neck.

Sizzling arcs of sensation rushed through her system, burned straight to her clit and echoed in her womb.

God, she didn’t know how to keep him out of her bed. She wanted to beg him to join her there now. Beg him to do exactly what he had just told her he wanted to do. To bury his lips between her thighs and taste the pleasure he was giving her.

“Rule. Oh God—” The small buttons at the front of her nearly sheer blouse suddenly released. The sides fell away, revealing the silk and lace of the nude bra she wore, the full curves of her breasts rising above the cups.

“Have mercy,” he groaned, one hand cupping a breast as his lips pressed to the rise over its mate. “You taste like pure pleasure.”

His tongue stroked over the sensitive flesh, the slight, roughened rasp causing shards of increased need racing through her senses.

She wanted his lips on her nipples. Now.

She wanted his mouth devouring them.

His fingers gripped the lacy top of the material, drawing it slowly over the firm flesh, scraping the material against her agonizingly engorged nipples.

They pushed out from the tip of her breast, pebble hard and aching painfully.

Gypsy had to watch. She couldn’t help it. It was so erotic, so wicked, watching as his incredibly thick, long lashes lifted from the brilliance of his gaze as he watched her watch him.

His lips parted. His tongue peeked out, that roughness that covered it rubbing against her nipple.

Fire exploded in the tip.

It tore through her body in a rush of such pleasure she was certain she couldn’t survive it. Certain she couldn’t remain standing if he didn’t stop, and knowing she couldn’t bear it if he stopped.

Then standing wasn’t an issue.

Sweeping her from her feet and lifting her into his arms, Rule carried her the short distance to the couch, laid her on the wide cushions, then came down over her.

His lips covered a nipple immediately, drawing it into the heat of his mouth and suckling it with firm, hungry draws of his mouth. The sight of his cheeks hollowing, his expression suffused with pleasure, was something she didn’t know if she could survive.

The pleasure lashed at her nipple, and then as his fingers surrounded the other and began tugging and caressing it, the increased sensations tore free any further objections she might have been working on.

What the hell was she doing?

Panting for air, her fingers sliding in the warm, coarse thickness of his black hair and tightening as his teeth suddenly surrounded the tip and bit sensually, Gypsy could feel the sexual woman inside herself pushing free.

Releasing the tender tip, his tongue licked at it, stoking the already burning sensations arcing through her body and leaving her quivering in erotic need.

This was why, she thought hazily. Why she hadn’t wanted to tease and flirt with the often-too-grim Lion. This was why she’d stayed as far away from him as possible.

Because he could do this to her.

He could make her lose control.

His caresses trailed from her breast, over her stomach to her hips and the buttons of her jeans. He flicked them open with experienced fingers, sliding beneath the material, moving closer to the humid ache tormenting her there.

And how much more was it going to ache if he continued? She couldn’t let him have her. She couldn’t let this happen.

His fingers pushed beneath her panties as his lips lifted from her breast and moved to hers once again, covering them. His kisses sipped at her lips, stroked them, stole reason and objection as his fingers continued their journey and slid between the lush, saturated folds of her sex.

Sensation lashed at her body as the callused tips of his fingers rasped through the narrow slit, parting the swollen folds before caressing lower, rubbing against the clenched entrance to her vagina.

The feel of her juices spilling to his fingers, eagerly welcoming his touch and tempting him further, had her thighs tightening in an effort to ensure that pleasure remained.

Oh God, just for a minute. Let her feel that rush of indescribable sensation for just a little while longer.

“Shh, it’s okay, Gypsy.” Rule’s voice was thick, filled with hunger as she realized the whimpers she could hear were falling from her own lips.

“It’s okay, baby, I promise. I have you. You can let go of my wrist, sweetheart.”

She had hold of his wrist?

She had to force her lashes open, feeling dazed and uncertain as her gaze fell to where her nails were digging into his wrist.

Then the heated rush of moisture that spilled from her at the sight of his broad hand filling her jeans caused her hips to jerk upward. The punch of sensation that attacked her womb stole her breath.

“I’m just petting you, Gypsy. That’s all.”

Her eyes lifted to his once again, shocked, a cry parting her lips as his fingers rubbed at the aching entrance of her body and the hard pad of his hand pressed against her clit.

“I don’t do this.” She could feel the fear trying to ease into the pleasure, trying to destroy her acceptance that her body would feel pleasure with such mind-numbing force, that it could ache or want or grow wet for such a touch despite her knowledge of what she would have to leave behind.

“Yet how pretty you are as I pleasure you.” His gaze darkened, his lips pulling back from his teeth to reveal the sharp, overlong canines as her body spilled more of her slick response to his fingers.

His expression was tight with his own pleasure. Yet where he was deriving that pleasure from, Gypsy had no idea. And as his fingers slid through the thick layer of moisture covering her folds to the swollen bud of her clit, Gypsy’s thoughts splintered as a strangled cry of pleasure tore from her lips.

“Your body was made for pleasure,” he crooned, his lips lowering to hers once again, taking brief, hard kisses that kept her aching for more.

His hand moved again, her fingers tightening on his wrist as he stroked from her clit to the entrance of her vagina and back again. Stroking, rubbing at each, sending waves of need clashing through her senses as her hips arched, her body begging for more.

Each stroke of his fingers tightened the pleasure building in her womb, in the tight throb of her clit and the ache in her pussy. She could feel it, like a band tightening between those pleasure points, stretching tighter, the need for more growing with each second.

“Rule,” she moaned, though whether in protest or plea she had no idea. “Please . . .”

She had no idea what she was begging for, what her body was burning for. This was so unlike her own touch or the toys she kept that it was laughable to even compare the two.

This was addictive, brutally ecstatic, and she wondered how she would ever be the same now that she had known it.

With each stroke of his fingers between her thighs, her hips lifted to him, begging for more, aching to be touched deeper, harder.

Pulling back from the narrow entrance to her vagina, his fingers circled her clit, the firm, rubbing caress sending a shower of pure pleasure arcing through her body. The swollen bud throbbed, the ache tightening as Gypsy felt a building wave of sensation threatening to burst through her.

She had never known this could be pleasure.

She had shied away from any man’s touch, pushed would-be lovers behind her and become their friend instead. She had told herself she could do without the touch or the aggravation of a man in her life.

And now, her body was intent on making up for lost time. It was burning in a Breed’s arms, her hips lifting to him, eager for more as he rubbed at the tiny bundle of nerve endings, stroked them, kept her hovering on a pinnacle that became sharper by the second.

“Look at me, Gypsy,” he growled, the rough rumble of demand rasping from his chest as her eyes opened for him.

Dazed, unable to fight past the waves of sizzling sensation building beneath his stroking fingers, she opened her eyes, her gaze locking with his.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his breathing rough, as harsh as her own. “Let it have you, baby. It’s only pleasure, I promise. Nothing to be frightened of.”

Nothing to be frightened of? Gypsy could feel the waves of control-destroying sensation tightening in every cell of her body. She no longer controlled her own body. She no longer controlled herself, and it was beginning to frighten her.

She had to control this.

She had to know what was coming before she stepped into it.

“No.” The hard growl in his voice had her body jerking as another powerful wave of sensation lashed at her as his voice rasped over her senses. “Stay with me, Gypsy. No fear.”

The stroking, rubbing, diabolical touch of his fingers increased.

Her thighs tightened, his image becoming hazy as she stared up at him, the lashing, heated waves of pleasure growing, becoming hotter, brighter.

Her hips arched to him, her breathing becoming harder, faster.

“Rule . . . please . . .” She was suddenly frightened of where it would take her, how it would change her.

She wanted to pull back, wanted to wait, feel her way through whatever was beginning to tear through her.

“Give to me, Gypsy, just this,” he groaned, the strokes shifting again, tightening.

Her eyes widened.

“I have you, Gypsy,” he promised again. “I’ll hold you right here, I swear.”

She lost her breath.

A strangled cry rasped from her throat as her hold on his wrist tightened, nails digging in as an explosion of white-hot ecstasy ruptured her mind.

Her hips were jerking beneath his stroking fingers, her juices spilling from her again, a wash of rapturous moisture weeping from her as her head tilted back and a cry of agonized pleasure tore her apart at the seams.

There was nothing she could do but stare up him, so dazed, so lost within the clash of sensations, pleasure and need that did just as she had feared it would.

Somehow, it changed her.

CHAPTER 11

Dog was waiting for Rule outside, leaning against the side of the building beneath the staircase that led up to the apartment.

The scent of Gypsy’s pleasure still lingered in his senses, that explosive mix of hunger and newly experienced orgasm as it washed over his senses, nearly stealing his ability to realize the second when that pleasure had turned to fear.

As the waves of sensations eased inside her, the stiffening of her body hadn’t registered at first. It had taken several long moments for Rule to gather his control around him and ease back from her.

And now, nearly thirty minutes later, he wondered if perhaps he should have stayed after she ordered him to leave.

As Dog straightened from his position, his eyes narrowed, flicking to the apartment upstairs thoughtfully, before he shook his head and led the way to the Dragoon. Rule slid into the passenger seat, propping his arm on the window frame as he stared pensively into the darkness while the Coyote pulled back onto the street and headed out of town.

He ran his tongue over his teeth again, just to be certain. He had a hard-on raging in his jeans that pounded in lust, but no true signs of Mating Heat.

“Cigar?” Dog extended the pack of thin cigars to him, his tone only mildly curious.

Rule accepted the cigar, then the pack of old-fashioned matches the Coyote carried.

Inhaling the sweet burn of the tobacco, Rule let the specially blended essence seep into his senses as the Coyote lit his own.

The window beside him eased down marginally to allow the exhaled smoke to escape as the Dragoon made its way through the streets of Window Rock at a legal speed.

Inhaling another draw of the cigar, Rule forced his senses to calm, his body to ease, but the hard-on straining his zipper refused to soften or relax in any way.

Damn, it had been all he could do to pull back from her. The need to strip the clothes from her exquisite little body had been almost more than he could control. He wanted to bury his cock inside the slick, hot little channel that beckoned him so bad it was like a fever inside him.

God help them both if it was Mating Heat, because he wouldn’t, he couldn’t allow it.

“I don’t smell the Heat, just your arousal. And perhaps her release?” There was an edge of amusement to the Coyote’s tone at the last observation.

“That would be none of your business, Dog,” Rule assured him before bringing the cigar to his lips once again and inhaling.

“A mating, or her release? You may have to clarify which you would want my opinion on,” Dog informed him with his normal sarcastic humor.

Rule turned his head and simply stared at him, knowing the other Breed and his propensity to create chaos wherever possible. Especially within the lives of those he claimed as friends.

“Ah, the release part.” He nodded, though the smile that tugged at his lips assured Rule that didn’t mean he would keep his observations to himself. “Still, there’s no scent of Mating Heat.”

Rule restrained a sigh of relief.

“I’ve often wondered, though,” Dog continued just when Rule was beginning to hope the Breed wasn’t in a troublemaking frame of mind.

“What exactly have you wondered, Dog?” he asked, enjoying the bite of the cigar again and preparing himself to hold back his temper. It was hard telling what would pop out of that Breed’s mouth.

“Why you’re so damned skittish about Mating Heat? Most Breeds bitch about it, joke about it and secretly long for it. You, on the other hand, are more than serious about running in the opposite direction should you encounter it. Why?”

Why?

Rule knew why. Just as he knew he wasn’t in the mood to discuss it.

“If you don’t smell the scent of Mating Heat, then don’t worry about it,” he warned the other Breed.

“Should I worry about it if I sense Mating Heat?” Dog asked then, though the humor in his tone had scaled back immensely.

Should another Breed worry about it?

“Only if you want to die,” Rule warned him.

A chuckle whispered through the vehicle as Dog turned it toward the hotel after pulling away from town.

“You know, several Breed scientists theorize that if a mating isn’t complete, then should the Breed part of the equation remove themselves from the mate’s vicinity, it’s possible that another Breed could come in and complete the bond. Especially if the substitute Breed is a blood relation of the true mate.”

Rule remained silent. He’d heard that; Jonas had explained it to him in great detail actually when they’d feared that Rule’s brother, Lawe, would deny the heat between him and his mate, Diane Broen.

Lawe had always felt his mate shouldn’t be another Breed, or a warrior of any kind. He’d always felt a mate weaker than himself was what he needed. One who would be content to be protected within the confines of Sanctuary while Lawe stepped into a less dangerous role of security enforcement.

Instead, Lawe’s mate should have been a Breed. She was a warrioress who commanded her own team of men and did so with exceptional ability.

“It’s just a thought,” Dog said then.

Rule turned back to the Coyote slowly, his gaze narrowing. “What’s just a thought? If there’s no scent of Mating Heat, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

“True.” The Breed nodded.

Besides, Lawe had already given Rule his opinion of trading mates when Rule first saw Gypsy, first feared that she would be his mate.

He had his mate, and one he was well satisfied with. A mate strong enough to fight by his side rather than being content to hide behind the walls of Sanctuary, the feline Breed compound.

“We are now at Condition Beta. I repeat, Condition Beta.” The radio crackled with the security protocols as the call came through from base over the vehicle’s speakers.

Rule reached out and activated the two-way link.

“Commander Breaker responding to Condition Beta,” Rule snapped into the link as Dog hit the gas, the Dragoon hitting top speed in seconds and racing through the night to the hotel.

“Commander Breaker, Director Wyatt requests immediate Blue Protocols be enacted. I repeat, enact Blue Protocols immediately.”

He pulled the communications earbud he carried at all times from the small holster on his belt and clipped it to his ear. Activating the link, he waited for the beep that indicated secure status before identifying himself and giving the day’s authorization code. “We have Condition Blue. I repeat, Condition Blue. Enact all security protocols. Director Wyatt has authorization until I’m on site.”

Liza Johnson and Claire Martinez, were in danger again. The two women were too important to the Breeds to chance losing. They were too important to Jonas Wyatt to even consider allowing them to be in danger.

Twelve years before, Liza Johnson and Claire Martinez had been Honor Roberts and Fawn Corrigan, two test studies of one of the most important research projects that Brandenmore Research, a very well-hidden part of the Genetics Council’s labs, had ever attempted. A project that created the drug now threatening Amber’s life.

...

Spinning into the back lot of the hotel, Dog brought the Dragoon to a jerking stop before Rule threw open the door and raced out to the enforcer running toward him.

“We had two six-man teams rush Liza and Claire’s security force just after leaving the hotel for transport to safe houses. Backup arrived in time to secure their safety, but these bastards were good, Commander. Too damned good,” Flint McCain reported as he met them at the back entrance, his expression savage. “Liza’s secure with Enforcer Black and Miss Martinez is currently secured in Director Wyatt’s suite. Blue Protocols are in force, but complete lockdown is impossible at this point.”

There were simply too many guests in the hotel who weren’t Breeds.

“Have we identified the teams?” Rule barked out. “Scent markers, any identifying DNA left?”

“Nothing. They struck, made an attempt to gain access to the Dragoons, then before we could get backup into place, they were gone. They didn’t breech the Dragoons, but if backup hadn’t been there . . .” Flint broke off, the message clear as they rushed into the hotel. “They left nothing to identify them, and we suspect scent markers were blocked.”

“Get a crime scene unit at the site and on those Dragoons,” Rule barked out. “And get me someone up here with a deeper sense of smell. They had to have left something to identify them, and I want it found. Now.”

There was no such thing as no evidence, or no proof of identity. There was simply the inability or unwillingness to detect it. “Director Wyatt is reporting that Miss Johnson may have remembered something.” Flint lowered his voice as they entered the elevator and headed for the top floor. “He wants you with him now.”

Rule’s jaw clenched. If Liza was remembering something more, then hopefully Claire wouldn’t be long behind her. That meant the danger would only increase.

It was time to suggest removing both women from the area and completely out of sight rather than securing them in town, before the Genetics Council or, worse yet, the two women’s former protector and now their would-be executioner, Gideon, managed to get to them.

If either party caught up with them, their lives wouldn’t be worth shit and the Bureau would have no chance in hell of saving them, or Amber.

And that, they definitely couldn’t allow to happen.

...

Gypsy moved into the darkness, her hands pushed into the pockets of her denim jacket to ward off the chill of the desert as she stepped away from her Jeep and entered the abandoned garage on the edge of town.

The call had come through before the vehicle that arrived to pick up Rule had managed to pull from the parking lot. The voice on the other end of the line had requested a meeting at the garage immediately.

“I’m here,” she stated, coming to a stop in the middle of the garage bay she’d entered and staring around curiously.

“You always come when we call, don’t you, Gypsy?” the voice reflected quietly. “You’ve never denied us, nor have you ever betrayed us.”

She shrugged, a bit uncomfortable with this sudden reflection rather than the arrogance she was used to. “I came to you and offered my help, you didn’t ask me for it.

“No, we didn’t,” the voice agreed, causing her to stare intently at the shadow as it shifted just slightly. “You didn’t have to give your life, though. Just as we never expected Mark to give his.”

For a single, brutal moment she was fifteen again, watching in horror, in agony, as the razor-sharp edge of that knife sliced across her brother’s throat.

“Gypsy?” The dark voice pulled her back as he spoke gently. “This isn’t what he would have wanted. He would never have asked this of you.”

What the hell was the point of this meeting? Was she somehow being fired from a volunteer position?

How had she managed to mess this up?

“Do you not need my help any longer?” There was a curious sense of regret at the thought, at the loss she felt coming. Who would she be if she wasn’t Whisper? She was no one’s daughter, no one’s sister; she could be someone’s lover, but the risk would destroy her. What would that leave her?

“Your help has always been invaluable,” he finally breathed out roughly. “But I would never want you to compromise your dreams, or your own life, for that help. I want you to understand that. Your brother was my friend, Gypsy. A good friend. And I know his dreams for you had nothing to do with the risks you take for us.”

Gypsy shrugged again, telling herself she had to be wrong. “Is there something you need that you think will compromise that?”

“It’s possible,” he stated as she restrained a sudden, relieved cry. “You left the bar with Breaker and took him to your apartment. You’ve never done that. Is there a bond between the two of you that I should know about?”

“Are you asking if he was in my bed?” she frowned. “No, I haven’t had sex with him, nor have I forgotten the conditions of working with you.”

“Should a bond with this Breed develop, know that should you need to pull back in your work with us, we’ll understand. But at no time would I ever be able to overlook it if you revealed your past work with us. Do you understand me?”

“I understand.” Her fingers curled into fists at the remembered need to do just that. To end the lie she lived with just one person she could trust.

“Just before Commander Breaker left your apartment earlier, Liza Johnson and Claire Martinez were attacked on their way back to the safe house they’ve been assigned. They’re fine, but already we’re receiving transmissions among the Breeds that indicate she and Claire may be moved to a more secure and secret location. If this happens, then we need to know that location.”

Just like they needed to know the information the Breeds had on them? Something she still hadn’t managed to find, nor had she even managed to learn whether it actually existed.

“Rule doesn’t seem like a man who tells his secrets to anyone, let alone potential lovers,” she stated, her fingers curling into fists in her jacket pocket as she felt the fine threads of the spiderweb she lived within slowly tightening on her.

“Whatever you hear, see or perceive will be of the utmost importance to us,” he told her. “We need Liza and Claire safe, but the Breeds have enemies even within their own ranks. I don’t trust them to ensure Liza and Claire’s safety.”

“Are you going to attempt to take them yourselves?” she asked. “Liza Johnson’s Breed fiancé would object to that, I’m certain.”

“No doubt.” Regret shadowed the voice. “But time is becoming of the essence. Should we take that route, though, we’ll be certain to let you know the matter has been accomplished.”

Gypsy nodded, though her stomach was twisting with the knowledge that she could be pulled straight into the middle of a battle between the Unknown and the Breeds. That wasn’t a position she wanted to be in and one where she was terribly afraid she would end up.