Lion's Heat

CHAPTER 13

The bath helped, but Rachel found herself not quite as sleepy, nor as tired, as she should be. Pulling on the long, warm gown that had been provided for her and a matching robe, she took a deep breath before leaving the bathroom.

She found Amber's crib empty when she reentered the bedroom. She touched the ultra-soft comforter on the mattress and felt her heart clench in something akin to panic.

Jonas was drawing her in. He was tying her to him in ways she wasn't certain she wanted to be tied to him.

Love.

She had thought she loved Devon. Those months in Switzerland had been incredible even though the job she had gone there for hadn't quite worked out.

She had thought it fate when she met Devon.

He had been bright, funny. She hadn't even known who his family was for months. Not until his father had arrived, dour, disapproving, and informed her that she wasn't good enough to marry into the elite Marshal clan.

Her confusion had been almost comical.

He'd looked Devon straight in the eye and disowned him until he decided to get some balls, as he called it, and ditch the dumb bitch he had knocked up.

He'd thrown a clip of money on the floor, ordered her to get an abortion and left.

Devon had sworn he loved her. He had contacts, he'd claimed. He would get a job; he loved working.

She snorted at the memory. That night he had disappeared. Not just with the money clip and Rachel's money, but also her passport and credit cards as well. She had been stranded; the rent and utilities were due. There had been no food.

He'd left a letter, short and to the point. He would contact her when the doctor he directed her to called and informed him the abortion had been performed. She could go home then.

The embassy had refused to help her after firing her. Of course, Devon's father had ensured that. She hadn't been able to get a job. Every time she secured one, something happened and she was fired within hours.

She'd called Kane out of desperation when she couldn't reach Diana.

And now, here she was.

Perhaps Devon had been fate after all, she thought. That road had led her to Merinus, and then to Jonas.

Or perhaps she was simply being as fanciful as Diana had always accused her of being.

Either way, here she was, and she was learning that love wasn't as tidy, or as sweet and easy, as she had once thought it should be.

It came with complications, and it came with a hell of a lot of questions.

Turning, she strode to the doorway, and for the second time, came to a stop. In front of the fire, on the large, soft rug before it, Jonas lay with Amber.

He'd changed clothes. Dressed in loose sweatpants, bare feet and a bare chest, he lay next to the baby as the fire flickered in front of them.

Amber was watching the flames with the drowsy wonder that only a baby could show. Her lashes lay low, sleep edging her expression as Jonas softly hummed a lullaby.

The dark rhythm of the sound lulled her as well, but it did nothing to cause drowsiness. Rachel felt her entire body flushing with arousal instead. The sensation was deeper, stronger, than it had ever been, fueled by emotions that tore through her, that left her aching for his arms around her, or a glimmer of warmth and amusement in his gaze.

Was it mating heat, or simply an amplification of the emotional and physical response to the person she was meant to love anyway?

Society had created a world where commitment to a relationship, to marriage, didn't mean what it had once meant. Marriages broke up over money, family, petty arguments and jobs that left individuals tired and searching for peace. A peace that wasn't often found when they walked through the doors and met screaming children, endless chores, and phone calls from demanding relatives.

Had nature decided to circumvent the ability to ignore the relationship and the commitment to one person?

What she felt wasn't a forced seduction or hunger. This was natural. What she would feel once she took the kiss she knew was awaiting her was another thing. That kiss would tie her to one man for more than a normal lifetime. And it would make her a part of something she still didn't understand, but found she didn't want to miss.

And her sister, Diana, said she lacked a sense of adventure. She was about to go on an adventure that even her sister would hesitate to face.

"She's almost asleep." The soft hum stopped to be replaced by the rich, dark sound of his voice. "She loves watching the flames."

And watching him with her daughter was breaking her heart. The man lying on the floor was nothing like the Director of Breed Affairs that he had been when he walked out of this cabin.

This man was meant to be a father. He was meant to cherish and to love everyone who came under his protection.

"It's the flickering light she loves," Rachel told him as she watched her daughter's lashes lower farther.

His fingers gently stroked the baby's arm, her tiny fingers. Amber looked so tiny next to him that Rachel wondered that he wasn't frightened to touch her. At times, Rachel was terrified of breaking her.

"She looks like you," Jonas said, his voice still soft. "A living beauty."

Rachel's breath caught as his gaze lifted from the child, to her. For once, the living mercury of his eyes wasn't raging. They were calm, glowing in his dark face with power and promise.

She couldn't speak. The words felt locked in her throat, the power to pull them free lacking inside her. He stared at her as though he truly adored her, as though she was perhaps perfect, beautiful, a woman well worth desiring.

No man had ever stared at her in such a manner before. No man had ever made her feel as though she was the center of his hunger, and only she could relieve it.

Jonas rose to his knees then, picked the baby up and straightened before moving across the living room to the smaller crib, which he must have placed there while she was showering.

Rachel closed the bedroom door and stepped into the living room.

He was putting the baby closer to them so they could hear her from his room, separated by the open fireplace. Private, yet accessible should Amber need them.

"I thought you would want to hear her if she fussed tonight." He laid Amber in the crib so she could continue to watch the flames, before drawing a light blanket decorated with tiny pink teddy bears over her tiny body.

"I don't understand this," she whispered as she paused before the fireplace and watched as he turned back to her. "And I'm frightened of it."

"Frightened of what?" He moved to her, his long legs eating the distance despite the fact that he was moving slowly. "What's there to be frightened of, sweetheart? More pleasure than you can imagine? A man who would die for you?"

Things women swore they would die for. It wasn't the love, or the devotion, that frightened her, though.

"Of the mating heat." She swallowed tightly. "I don't like not having control, Jonas. I don't know how to live and not be certain of what tomorrow will bring, or how not to control what my own destiny is."

"Did you know what tomorrow would bring when you were with Marshal? And sweetheart, I hate to tell you this, but you have all the control," he told her softly, his hands moving to her shoulders, his fingers caressing the flesh revealed by the loose neckline of the gown. "Whatever you want, I'm here to provide, Rachel," he promised. "Whatever keeps you safe, happy and in my arms, I'm here to give you. Just tell me what you want."

His head lowered, but he didn't kiss her lips. He didn't share the mating hormone that Ely had stated made each breath torturous, the hunger was so intense. Instead, his lips touched the skin just below her ear, where sensations were magnified, where heat built and spread along her nerve endings like wildfire.

Rachel felt her lashes drifting closed as sensual weakness and an emotional overload assailed her. What he did to her, she could barely make sense of. He could break her heart, he could make her want to shoot him, but through it all, she didn't want to miss this chance.

"What are you doing?" Breathing was becoming harder by the second as she felt arousal burning through her, marking her with the need for his touch.

His lips were warm velvet, his tongue, with its slight rasp, a heated roughness that had her eyes closing and her knees weakening, and the hunger to feel more, to feel all of him, nearly overwhelmed her.

"Jonas." She whispered his name, the need building inside her now, tearing through her and laying waste to any thought she may have been harboring about thinking this step through any longer.

Lifting her hands, she pressed her fingers to his hard, heated abdomen, feeling it flex beneath her fingers as her own stomach clenched in hunger. She loved how readily he responded to her touch. There were no games with it. She gave him pleasure just as well as he gave her.

"Come to bed with me, Rachel," he breathed against her ear. "I promise, there will be no heat tonight. You have all the time you need to become accustomed the idea of it. To decide if the loss of control is worth it."

She lifted her head, staring back at him, wondering at the incredible gentleness in his voice.

"It hurts you," she whispered.

"Like it would hurt any other man not to have you." He cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her lips. "You are an addiction to me, love. But it's not as though I'm going into withdrawal quite yet."

He looked amused, patient. He didn't look like a man in the throes of agony.

"Ely thinks . . ."

"Ely is sometimes a bit overprotective when it comes to mated Breeds, and a whole lot too nosy about the biology of the phenomena," he stated as his hand stroked down her arm, his fingers finding hers as he moved back to draw her to his bedroom. "Don't worry about what Ely says, Rachel. Worry about what you need."

He was lying to her. She could see the lie in his eyes, in the fine film of perspiration glistening along his forehead. He was in pain, and the knowledge of how he held back, to give her the time she needed, had her wondering if holding back was truly what she wanted to do.

He needed to kiss her. The glands beneath his tongue, as Merinus had explained it, could become agonizingly sensitive unless the hormone was shared.

He was protecting her.

She let him draw her to the bedroom as butterflies beat against her stomach and her lungs tightened with nerves.

She had fantasized for so long. So many nights she had imagined what it would be like if he ever touched her. And his touch was more than she had ever imagined.

As he drew her into the bedroom, Rachel stared up at him, seeing in his eyes the incredible control he was exerting on himself now.

Liquid mercury eyes raged with hunger, with need. His expression was tight, savagely hewn. And sexy. The powerful, primal features of his face, the corded strength of his body, were so damned sexy she could barely stand to look at him without needing his touch.

Without needing to touch him.

Reaching to his bare shoulders, Rachel let the tips of her fingers skim across the powerful muscles, feeling the tension in them, as well as the tightly leashed control.

"You are such a liar," she whispered. "Merinus told me all about mating heat, Jonas. And what she didn't tell me, I've guessed or Ely was kind enough to spit out information on."

"Merinus has a big mouth." He grimaced as she let her nails scratch across his flesh.

"Merinus tells me the truth," she stated as he stared down with those oddly colored eyes.

"No. Merinus lies." He jerked as her nails raked lower, glancing over the tight, hard discs of his male nipples.

She wondered how long she could play with him? How far could she push him? Would his control actually break? She had never heard of anyone, man or woman, shattering his much-lauded control.

"I think you like lying." Leaning forward, her lips touched his chest, her tongue reaching out to lick over one of the tight, hard male nipples, tasting it, and then wanting more.

His hand jerked up, tangled in her hair and held her still for long, tense moments before she felt it ease marginally.

"I don't lie," he breathed out, his jaw bunching as she stared up at him before raking across his nipple with her teeth.

"Enough." A groan tore from his lips as his fingers knotted in her hair once again. "Don't tempt me, Rachel. If you think you know fear of the mating heat now, then you will surely understand what true fear of it is if you keep pushing like this."

"Like what?" she breathed out roughly as she kissed the center of his chest. "Like this?" She bit into his flesh, tugged at it, felt his stomach tremble against her own as heat flooded her pussy.

The need for his touch rushed through her like a firestorm, weakening her knees and pulsing through her womb as her breath caught with the sensation.

That smallest indication of her pleasure was nearly enough to break his control. She felt him tighten, watched as his gaze flared, heated, became molten.

A groan rumbled in his chest as he pulled her head back, his own lowering as though in preparation to kiss her.

A kiss that never came. Instead, his lips pressed to her jaw, a muted groan tearing from his lips as he pushed her robe from her shoulders with his free hand before loosening his fingers from her hair, and with that hand, pulled the slender strap of her gown over her shoulder. It was so sensual, so sexual, Rachel couldn't hold back the whimper that tore from her throat.

The bedroom became heated with hunger. Rachel could feel it in the air, brewing between them as she fought to hold on to the shattered senses.

"The need to touch you makes me insane," he growled as the robe and gown puddled at her feet.

She was naked now. Standing before him, her body laid bare for him to see, to stroke, to possess.

"God, look at you." His gaze dropped to her breasts, her nipples tight and hard, so sensitive that the very air moved across them in a stroke of pleasure.

Rachel closed her eyes, lost in the pleasure as his hands cupped her breasts, stroked them. She could feel the imperative need rising between them now, a sense of primal hunger tearing between then.

Rachel felt tremors of need racing down her spine, flickering through her pussy, stoking a flame through it that she wondered if there was any way to put out. Could she ever be sated from his touch, or would the hunger only continue to grow?

As he gripped her nipples between thumb and finger, Rachel promised herself that tonight wasn't just for her. Jonas, she was beginning to realize, would put aside his own wants, his own hungers, for his mate. For her.

Was that fair? So many people took from him; even when he manipulated them into it, still, they took, raged at him for the games he played, the results he achieved, and all he gave of himself. And no one offered of themselves, or of their lives, for Jonas.

And once again, Jonas was willing to give of himself and ask nothing in return.

Was that what she wanted?

Her head tilted back as his lips moved down her neck, rough velvet, stroking pleasure through every nerve ending, yet it wasn't enough.

It was his lips only. No stroke of his tongue, no kiss from his lips. And she wanted it, so desperately.

She was terrified of the mating heat, yet she was just as terrified of never knowing it.

She was terrified, period. Her life was raging out of control in so many ways, and yet in others, it seemed to be exactly where it should be. She was where she should be. Here in Jonas's arms.

And she knew something was missing: his kiss. The feel of his lips moving over hers, his tongue stroking against hers.

His lips were at her breasts, stroking over the flesh, rubbing against her nipple. She arched closer, trying to push her nipple between his lips. She wanted it there, ached to feel it there.

"Jonas." She whispered his name, knowing he was nowhere close to losing his remarkable control.

Should she break it? Could she break it?

She stared down at his dark head, dazed, nearly ready to beg for more.

"Do you think this is enough?" she whispered as his head lifted.

"No, it's never enough." His lips rubbed against her nipple again.

God, it was incredible, just that much.

His hand flattened against her stomach, his fingers edging down, lower, pushing into the curls between her thighs as Rachel felt her juices spilling from her pussy.

She was beginning to lose the train of thought, the determination to make him lose control. Probably because his fingers were working around her clit, stroking her into insanity.

"I want more." Her hands moved from his chest to his abdomen, to the low band of the sweatpants he wore.

She wanted them off. She wanted to feel every inch of his body bare against her. She wanted the feel of his cock, hard and thick, pressing against her, inside her.

First. Oh God, first she wanted the feel of it in her hands, against her lips.

Could she do it?

She'd never done it before because she'd been too embarrassed. Because she'd never understood why she would want to--until now. Now she knew why she wanted to do it. She wanted to make him feel so good. She wanted to hear him growl, snarl. She wanted to know what it would take to make him purr.

The elastic band slipped down his thighs, over the heavy flesh of the shaft as Jonas jerked, groaned and pulled her against him.

His hands were locked on her hips, his head thrown back as he lifted her to him, his cock pressed tight and hard against the mound of her pussy as she heard that hard rumble in his chest once again.

She felt her feet leave the floor and a second later he was laying her back on the bed, coming over her, his lips drawn back in a grimace of hunger.

Incisors flashed, strong and sharp at the sides of his mouth.

She felt his knee press between hers, parting her thighs, moving over her.

"This isn't fair." Weak, shaking, her hands pressed against his chest as he came over her.

She wanted to pleasure him, needed to take him.

"What isn't fair? I'll make it fair. I promise, whatever it takes to make it fair, just sweet God, let me feel you."

"Let me feel you first." She pushed at his shoulders.

His eyes narrowed. "Don't do this, Rachel."

"Do what?" She shifted against him, her leg stroking over his, feeling the nearly invisible, very fine hairs that covered it like the softest down.

Heat prickled the skin where they touched, warmed her flesh.

"Let me control this, Rachel," he breathed out roughly. "I promise, it will be so good."

"Maybe it will be so good if I get to touch too," she suggested, her tone throaty, surprising her, a sense of fun building inside her.

He made her want to have fun. It was as though he challenged her to challenge him. It was that self-control he had. It made a woman just want to crush it.

"I have no doubt it would be." A slow smile curled his lips, one of the rare, true smiles she had seen from him. "But let's see how this feels first."

He licked her.

Rachel froze as his tongue stroked, light as air, over her shoulder, spreading that same sense of heat that feathered over her legs when his had stroked against them.

His tongue rasped, just a little bit. Just enough to feel dark and wildly primal. Enough to send a forbidden thrill racing through her mind.

He was good at keeping the upper hand: the stroke of his tongue, the twist of his body, the way he pulled her against him, his hand curving around a soft mound of her rear to tuck her hips against his.

His teeth nipped the lobe of her ear. Lightly. So very lightly. His hands stroked over her, the pad of one finger rubbing against her nipple as she felt the slightest pinch.

A scrape, like his nail against the areola, sent a bolt of heat racing across her nipple to her clit.

She twisted beneath him. She wanted so much more. Heat was building between her thighs, washing through her body. The feel of his cock pressing against the mound, blazing against her clit, was making her insane.

His hips rolled, thrust, slid from side to side, stroking the hard, heated shaft through the heavy, slick moisture. The folds of her pussy, swollen and sensitive, parted beneath the pressure. Her clit was in agony, release held just out of reach as she arched beneath him.

She had to see him, watch him.

Opening her eyes, she stared above her. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his shoulders. A rivulet ran down his chest, slow and easy, rolling with lazy sensuality as her lips parted, her head lifting as her tongue peaked out to catch the little droplet of moisture.

Cinnamon and cloves. A rich, dark storm. Midnight and madness. The tastes infused her senses as she felt him move. Her thighs were parted farther, a hesitation as he rolled a condom over the hard length of his cock. There was something wrong with that. She knew she should protest it, but before she could form the words, before she could remember why, he was pressing inside her.

Fiery, intense, pleasure-pain washed through her. The stretching of delicate, tender muscles, the stroke of his thick, hard flesh easing inside her. It was exquisite. It was like burning alive inside a fiery storm that she couldn't control or escape.

For the first time, he wasn't behind her as he gave her pleasure. He was staring down at her, his silver eyes darkening, turning into a storm of mercury, a heated conflagration that matched the wildfire surging through her senses now.

Bit by bit, one agonizing inch at a time, his hips rolled, pressed and worked the hardened flesh deeper inside her.

She had to look. To watch. Staring between her thighs, she could see the latex-sheathed erection glistening from the dampness that he was pushing through. It was broad, dark, parting the folds of her flesh and disappearing inside her.

He was taking her.

Her head flung back as he pushed in deeper, a hard, demanding thrust followed by a groan of pleasure as she arched beneath him and the length of his cock disappeared fully inside her.

Heat, ecstasy, the feeling of complete surrender, total freedom, infused her. She felt as though she were flying, as though they were locked in a flight of complete rapture, racing toward the sun.

Light and color exploded behind her closed eyes as Jonas began to move. He fucked her as though each stroke were to be relished, remembered, forever imprinted in both their minds.

His hips thrust, rolled, shifted from side to side, causing his erection to stretch her farther, to reveal previously hidden nerve endings and erogenous zones in their climb to release.

She couldn't breathe. She was gasping for air, certain she was going to pass out. The pleasure was so intense, hunger so deep and strong inside her, she couldn't get enough. She would never get enough. She would always need more.

No wonder his lovers were so hard to get rid of in the past, she thought hazily. This was why. Because he fucked like a dream, like a dark fantasy come to life to possess her very soul with no more than this. This possession.

Lifting her legs, she wrapped them around his waist and fought to hold on to him as the pleasure began to spiral out of control.

Control was lost. Above her, Jonas's thrusts were becoming harder, faster. She could hear the growls coming from his chest, animalistic, feral, as his cock plunged inside her, fucking her with a furious pace as she began to tighten beneath him.

Sensations raced through her system, poured through her bloodstream. The brush of the air against her flesh was exquisite; the feel of his body thrusting inside hers was rapture.

Her hips lifted, her head arched back into the blankets and the cry that spilled from her lips was barely muffled by the hard, calloused palm that suddenly clamped over her lips.

Rachel exploded. Her orgasm tore through her mind and body, reaching clear to her soul as she pierced the blazing, white-hot center of fire awaiting her.

She was dying in his arms. She lost her breath, her will, the very heart of who and what she was, as ecstasy climbed inside her, exploding over and over again, pulsing in fiery bursts through her body.

Above her, Jonas thrust in one last time, hard, deep, holding still as she felt his erection throb and pound with such fierce motions that a part of her wondered if he felt pleasure or pain from his own release.

That part was distant though, shielded by light and color, by sensations that never seemed willing to stop but vibrated inside her again and again.

She couldn't stop coming. Each time he moved, each time his cock throbbed, another explosion detonated, another pulse of pleasure tore through her.

Until finally, he was jerking free of her, still hard, his breathing still rough as he collapsed beside her and pulled her gently into his arms.

Soothingly, with the utmost gentleness, his hand stroked down her back, easing her until her breathing finally slowed and a measure of normalcy returned to her limbs. She no longer felt too weak to move, too weak to breathe.

Her hand lay against his chest, feeling his heartbeat as the fierce, hard pounding eased to a measured beat and assured her that they would both survive the experience.

For long moments, Rachel had feared that wasn't going to happen.

"Sleep with me," he murmured, his voice drowsy as he shifted them both against the pillows and pulled the sheet over their bodies. "Right here, Rachel. Let me feel you against me through the night."

She didn't have a problem with that. Settling against his chest, she exhaled tiredly and slipped into sleep.

When he was certain she slept, Jonas slipped slowly from the bed, pulled the blankets around her body, then rolled the broken condom from his cock before pulling a sterilized baggie from the drawer by his bed and dropping it in. It was a damned good thing Ely had thought to supply him with them, just in case something unusual happened. Something had damned sure happened, just as something else hadn't: He hadn't come.

He was as hard as forged iron.

His mouth burned from the taste of the hormone in his mouth, its properties obviously intensifying as he defied the demand that he share its taste with his mate.

He was losing control. He had never bitten her. It would have taken no more than the slightest break of her skin to give the hormone the chance to mark her, to throw her into the mating heat. And nature was damned determined to do it too. Lust was an insanity pounding through his blood now, raking sharpened claws over exposed nerve endings. Wanting her was hell. It was destroying his mind, because he couldn't take her. Not yet.

Holding back was his only option. It was the only way to ensure that she fell in love with him. He couldn't bear to feel as though she were being forced into his arms and into his bed.

Striding through the living room, he pulled the sat phone from the charger on the kitchen counter and moved to the far end of the room.

"Jonas, what's wrong?" Ely was on the line instantly.

"The barb breeched the condom." It was unheard of for a mated Breed to use a condom. Just as it was unheard of for the barb to extend without a mutual mating. Not that anyone had tried it as of yet.

"I need the condom," Ely stated brusquely. "The barb has minute hormonal properties. If we're very lucky, then the condom might have caught some of it."

"Quite a bit of it." He grimaced. "I didn't release, but the barb did."

"What the hell is going on with you?" Ely snapped. "Mate her already."

"Not yet, Ely." He shook his head as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "I want her love. Rachel won't trust what she feels for me if she doesn't realize she loves me before she's tied to me for the rest of our unnatural lives."

Hell, who knew how long a mated Breed could actually live?

"Besides," he sighed, "there's still the truth to tell here. I won't mate her without it."

Silence filled the line. He knew Ely didn't agree with him. The truth, she claimed, would only be proven if it happened; until then it was no more than a supposition.

He'd been created to sire a creature unlike any that the scientists had created. A true animal in a man's body. How could he tie his mate to him without first warning her what she would be giving birth to when that day came?

"I need the condom," she repeated. "And I need you in here ASAP. Leave your Enforcers to watch Rachel. I'll be waiting in the labs."

The line disconnected. Bringing the phone down, Jonas stared at it with a sense of amusement. Damn, Ely was getting bossier than she had ever been. That wasn't a good thing.

But she was right. She needed whatever he could give her now. Soon, there would be no chance for tests, examinations or nosy doctors. The animal inside him was raging out of control, the mating urge was tearing at his mind. And he knew, once he had Rachel, once he completed the mating cycle, he would become the most possessive son of a bitch ever known.

He was afraid he would make her hate him.