The Breed Next Door (5 page)

She didn't think anything could take his mind off that coffee.

"Ex-SF, huh?" He breathed out roughly, shaking his head with weary acceptance.

"Yes, they are." She nodded mockingly. "They retired about five years ago. They were even part of the Breed rescues that took place just after the main Pride announced their existence."

His expression stilled and grew cold and distant.

"I know you're a Breed, Tarek." She wasn't playing games with him. She hated it when they were played with her. "Tell me what's going on."

He grimaced tightly before picking up his mug and moving to the kitchen table as though putting distance between them.

She followed him.

He turned his head, watching as she leaned against the counter across from him and waited. Other than appliances, the kitchen was bare. No disorder. No clutter or decoration. The living room had been the same as she remembered. As though he had yet to decide who he was enough to mark his home with those things that defined him. Unless…

"Did you buy the house?" she asked him then.

Surprise crossed his features. "It's mine." He nodded before sipping at his coffee. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Nothing, except the thought of him leaving bothered her.

Fine, he had no interest in her outside of her bread and her coffee, but she liked him. At least he wasn't boring.

"Nothing." She finally shrugged. Thankfully, she was wearing her thick flannel robe rather than one of her thinner ones, the ones that would have shown her hard nipples clearly and made it impossible to hide her response from him.

Thar was what pissed her off so bad about him. He was the one man in years who had actually interested her, and he seemed totally oblivious to her as a woman.

It sucked.

"You haven't told me what happened tonight yet," she finally reminded him. "I've been pretty patient, Tarek."

He grunted at that statement. "Yeah, I saw that while you were running through the rain."

He inhaled deeply, grimaced, and shifted restlessly in his chair. His hand rubbed at his arm, just below the bandage, as though to rub away the ache.

She ached for him, for that wound. The sight of his blood earlier had weakened her knees and filled her with a fear she hadn't expected. He had been hurt. While she dealt with the police and filing that stupid report, all she could think about was how severely he could have been wounded.

"I don't know," he finally answered, staring at her directly. "I knew someone was out there. I followed him. I caught him messing with the electric box and attempting to get to the back door when I tried to stop him." He pushed his fingers through his hair again, feathering the dark gold strands back from his face. "I don't believe he was after your TV set, though."

She didn't like the sound of that.

"The security company said the alarm couldn't be dismantled in the electrical box. That it has a backup…"

"It can be done." He shrugged heavily. "Your system is residential. It has its drawbacks. I'll get you a new one tomorrow."

"I didn't ask you to do anything." She was growing sick of this cat-and-mouse game of his. "I want to know what the hell was going on. Any burglar worth his salt would have run when he was noticed. This guy didn't run. Why?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you would." That wasn't a lie.

He stared at her, his unusual eyes darker, heavy-lidded…

She swallowed tightly. That was not lust glittering in the golden depths. Men like him didn't get turned on for frumpy little accountants.

She drew in a deep, uneven breath, flickering her tongue over her dry lips nervously. He followed the movement, his gaze heating.

Okay. This was odd enough. She could understand being hotter than hell herself, but now he was? Why? Did he have a flannel fetish or something?

"Fine. It was no big deal then." She crossed her arms over her breasts just to be certain he couldn't see her nipples pushing against the cloth. "I'll just go home…"

"Not tonight." His voice was darker, deeper. "It's not safe as long as your system is down. You can stay here or call your brothers. It's up to you."

"I can take care of myself." She drew herself up stiffly as she faced him.

He rose from the table, suddenly appearing stronger, broader, fiercer as he scowled down at her.

"I said, you could stay here or call your brothers. I did not give you any other choices." A growl echoed in his voice as his eyes seemed to glow with arrogant intent.

"I didn't ask you for choices, Tarek." She wasn't about to bow down submissively to him, either. "I don't need a keeper."

His jaw tightened furiously, his lips thinning as he glared at her.

And that really shouldn't have turned her on further. But it did. She could feel the moisture gathering, pooling, spilling along the sensitive folds between her thighs. Her breasts felt heavier, swollen, too sensitive.

And he wasn't exactly uninterested anymore.

Her gaze flickered down, her face flushing heatedly before she jerked it back up. He was filling out those jeans like it was nobody's business.

And he hadn't missed the direction of her look, either.

"Don't tempt me, Lyra," he suddenly warned her, his voice rasping over her sensitive nerve endings. "My control is shot for the night. Either call your brothers or march your sweet ass upstairs to my spare room, or you're going to find yourself flat on your back in my bed. Your choice. The only ones left. Make it."

Chapter Five

He was nearly shaking with the need to touch her. Tarek stared down at her pixie features, the blood pumping so hard and so fast through his veins it was nearly painful. His cock was a torturous ache between his legs, the glands at the side of his tongue swollen and throbbing.

His hard-on made sense. The rush of blood was explainable.

The tongue was an enigma, and the taste of spice in his mouth confusing. The only thing that did make sense was the need to kiss Lyra.

She had tormented him for months. Tempted him. Laughed at him and mocked him with a gentle, feminine warmth that shouldn't have touched him as deeply as it had.

The smell of her arousal was killing him. It was hot, liquid sweet, and he was dying to lap at the soft cream he knew was spilling from her pussy. It would be hot, frothy with her growing need, and as rich as sunrise.

"Hell of a choice." Her arms tightened over her breasts.

He knew what she was hiding. The lush curves of her breasts, her swollen nipples.

"Make it fast if you don't mind," he growled. The erection was killing him. "Because the scent of your arousal is making me insane, Lyra. Pretty soon, I'm going to make the choice for you."

A whimper escaped her lips as her eyes widened in horror.

In shame? He frowned as she paled and then flushed furiously, her eyes brightening as though with tears.

"What?" He caught her shoulders as she moved to turn from him, turning her back to face him, knowing that touching her was the biggest mistake he could make.

"You smell me?" She trembled, embarrassment bringing tears to her eyes as she struggled against him.

He sighed wearily. Dammit, he was too tired, too hungry for the taste of her to watch every damn word he said and every move he made. He wasn't exactly the social sort, and the "rules of polite society" wasn't a class he had found the time to take.

"Lyra." He breathed out roughly, his hand lifting to her cheek, marveling at the silken texture of her flesh. "I'm an animal," he whispered softly. "My sense of smell is so highly advanced that I can detect any scent. Especially the sweet, soft heat coming from you. It's like forcing a starving man to stand before a banquet and not taste the riches."

She blinked up at him, swallowing tightly, her gaze suspicious, softening only slightly as his thumb smoothed over her lips.

He wanted to say more, but the silken curves held his attention, mesmerized him.

His tongue throbbed as the glands spilled more of the spicy taste into his mouth. The blood pumped harder through his veins as his control slipped further.

He lifted his hands from her shoulders carefully.

"The bedroom is upstairs, third door on the landing. Get away from me, Lyra. Now. Before I lose all control."

She frowned back at him.

"I don't like the way you make decisions for me, Tarek," she snapped furiously. But, thank God, she began to back carefully away from him. "It's annoying."

"I'm certain it is." The smell of her still wrapped around him, tormented him. "We can discuss it tomorrow over coffee.

Now go to bed."

She sniffed in disdain, glaring back at him as she reached the doorway.

"This tendency to boss me around best not become a habit,"

she warned him again. "Otherwise, I might disabuse you of the idea that you can get away with it. Count yourself lucky I'm letting you off the hook and escaping. Otherwise, you'd be one molested kitty, Jordan."

He could do nothing but stare at her disappearing back in shock as she muttered the heated words. Molested kitty? He groaned at the phrase. Good Lord, the woman was going to make him completely insane.

He sighed in relief, forcing himself to let her go before pulling the cell phone from its holder at his side and pressing the calling pad impatiently.

"Jonas." Jonas Wyatt, head of Feline Enforcer Affairs at Sanctuary, answered on the first ring.

"We have a problem," Tarek said quietly. "I think I encountered our Trainer tonight. Unfortunately, it wasn't me he was after."

He couldn't get the scent of the assailant out of his mind. It was too damned close to the smell of the clothing, admittedly from years before, that the bastard had worn. Not exact, but damned close.

"Explain." Jonas was a man of few words, which was one of the reasons Tarek liked working for him.

"He was breaking into the neighbor's house. Lyra Mason, she's the sister to three…"

"Special Forces agents." Jonas finished for him. "Grant, Marshal, and Tyree Mason. They headed the force that took down some of the main Breed labs."

Tarek closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Did you know she lived here when I bought this house?" he questioned him.

"I knew of her. I hadn't run a full investigation because I saw no reason to." He could almost see Jonas shrug with the words.

"Twenty-four, accountant, lives modestly, a nice little nest egg but nothing substantial. Medical records show a virgin, with all the normal childhood ailments and no police record. I didn't have time to go deeper and had no reason to. Why?"

Tarek shook his head. "No reason. I might need to come in soon, though; I think I need a checkup or something." He ran the sides of his tongue over his teeth, feeling a soft warmth spill into his mouth.

"What's wrong?" Jonas was sounding concerned now. About damned time.

"I don't know." He moved to the small foyer that led to the stairs. "Those damned glands at the side of my tongue. They're inflamed and doing funky shit. I swear I taste cinnamon."

Silence filled the line.

"Where's the girl?" Jonas asked then. "The Mason girl."

Tarek frowned at the question.

"My guest room. Her security system was breached."

"Hell!" Jonas breathed roughly. "Have you fucked her?"

A growl rose in his throat. "That's none of your damned business now is it, Jonas?" he asked silkily, dangerously. "Don't overstep your place, buddy."

"Can it, Tarek," he snorted. "And listen close. This is straight from the old scientist who treats the main Pride members. The swollen glands contain a special hormone. That spice filling your mouth, buddy, is an aphrodisiac. Lyra Mason is your mate."

Tarek laughed. Damn, he hadn't taken Jonas for a comedian.

"Fine. Whatever." He grunted. "Now tell me the truth."

He was going to kill Jonas for playing fucking games with him. He wasn't in the mood.

"No shit, Tarek." Jonas sounded much too serious. "It's kept very quiet. A complete ban on the information unless a couple appears to be mating. One of the best-kept secrets in the world."

Heat rushed to his head, and then to his dick.

"What do you mean, 'She's my mate'?" Could that account for the almost obsessive lust that had developed in the past months? The patience with her that he would never have had with anyone else? The growing, clawing hunger that kept his cock hard, his senses inflamed?

"Biological, chemical, whatever you want to call it," Jonas snorted. "If you kiss her, it causes the hormone to affect her even more than you. Mating Heat. Complete sexual abandon from now until forever. You poor bastard." There was an edge of envy in his voice, though.

Complete sexual abandon? From now until forever? His mate?

"She's mine," he whispered.

"Yep. That's what the doc says. Somehow, nature picked your perfect woman for you. Have fun."

"Have fun?"

Jonas chuckled. "Tarek, you sound dazed, buddy."

He gazed up at the stairs before closing his eyes and shaking his head miserably. He had a feeling Lyra was really going to have a reason to be pissed now.

"Shit," he breathed out roughly. "This is not a good time for this, Jonas. I don't have time for sexual abandon or some kind of fucked-up aphrodisiac. Get the cure out here."

Jonas laughed at that.

"I'll bring the latest attempt at contraception instead," he informed him. "Tell her what the hell is going on, and before you take her, be sure she takes the little pink pill. It's worked so far. Their best guess is that the Mating Heat is nature's way of ensuring the success of the species. Because without this pill, conception of the first child occurs quickly. They sure do make some pretty babies, though."

Babies? Tarek swallowed hard. The thought of Lyra carrying his baby did things to him he couldn't explain.

"Just get me some help out here," he snapped, attempting to cover the emotional response suddenly surging through him.

"I'm telling you, Jonas, it's getting dangerous here."

"That goes without saying," Jonas agreed. "I'll head out there myself with Braden and cover you. Let me know how she takes it."