Lion's Heat

CHAPTER 21

"Someone has a big mouth. Should I guess who?" Rachel knew the moment she stepped into Callan Lyons's office to meet Jonas that Dr. Morrey had told Jonas exactly what had happened in the labs.

She should have gotten here first, she thought. She'd run into Merinus as she came to the main floor. Merinus had been carrying Amber, cooing at her, causing the baby to giggle and laugh at the faces she was making.

They had stood and talked before Rachel took Amber and headed to the office. Stepping inside, she saw Jonas's face, and Ely Morrey's cool, composed features.

Ely was half in love with Jonas. A hero-worship that stemmed from the care Jonas had taken of her during a particularly traumatic time several months before. Rachel understood it; she wasn't jealous over it, but she was beginning to see that it could become a problem.

Moving to the small baby bed in the corner of the room, a bed normally used for Callan's own infant daughter, Rachel laid Amber on the mattress, covered her gently and caressed her head before straightening and turning to Ely.

"I'd suggest, Ely, that you find your own mate to cling to while steering clear of mine for a while," she stated. "I do understand that he's been a friend, but you're now beginning to overstep the bounds of that friendship."

Weariness filled her as she stared at the naked rage in Jonas's silver eyes.

"You would have never told him the complete truth." Ely shrugged as she headed for the door, her hand shoved into the pockets of her white jacket. "He deserved to know what happened after you left."

"Very good excuse." Rachel sighed, still staring at Jonas. "And I hesitate to say this, but I will: It was none of your business."

"You believe the insults he deals to my mate are none of my business then?" Jonas growled as he leaned against Callan's desk and crossed his arms over his chest with an air of arrogant assurance and fury. "She was well within her rights to report to me."

"She wasn't reporting to you, she was snitching." God, there were times it was like dealing with children.

The door closed as Ely left the room, leaving Rachel and Jonas facing each other across the room now.

"Snitching is childish," Jonas rebutted. "Her report was logical, concise and to the point. There were no embellishments."

"I didn't say she was lying."

"He insulted you." Jonas straightened from the desk. "Not once, but repeatedly."

"And I insulted him back, not once, but repeatedly," she assured him. "It's over."

Jonas stared back at her, still fighting the same sense of amazement he had felt when Ely had come to him to describe the argument, not just between Leo and Elizabeth, but between Leo and Rachel.

This was his mate, and possibly the only person he knew who had gone up against the Leo, nose to nose, and called him on his own arrogance and manipulations. She had described the Breed to a T. He was impossible. A gamesman, and so certain he could bring Jonas to heel.

He'd been certain of it since the day he had stepped into that hospital where Callan Lyons had nearly died the year before.

There were so many of them. Breeds who hadn't had the chances others had because they weren't the children of Leo and Elizabeth.

Elizabeth hadn't deserved Jonas's disregard, and that was the conclusion Jonas had come to as the sun had risen that morning. But Leo, well, the Leo deserved far worse simply for attempting to use Rachel and Amber in his battle against Jonas.

"You held your own very well." Jonas turned and walked to the other side of Callan's desk. From there, he stared down at the computer monitor that still showed the deserted lab. "And though I appreciated Ely's report, I had already caught the tail end of it anyway."

He turned the monitor to face her. "Just so you know, when I kill the bastard, it won't be because of anything Ely said. It will be because of what I saw for myself."

What he had seen had filled him with pride. His mate, so proud, her temper flashing in her green eyes, her face flushed as she stood up to one of the strongest males of the Breed species.

And though he had seen something after she left, in both his father as well as his mother, that he hadn't expected, the fact that both of them in some way had been manipulating him didn't sit well with him. By the very fact of her silence, his mother had been playing the same game as Leo.

Bringing Jonas to heel.

Jonas wasn't a dog, and he didn't take commands so well.

Rachel lifted her gaze from the monitor and stared back at him, her gaze tinged with sorrow now. "He does love you, Jonas," she whispered. "Just as she does."

His lips quirked. "It isn't love, Rachel, because they have no idea of the man I am, nor do they respect the man they see. They regret. They ache for what could be but isn't. They hurt for what might never be, but it's not love such as what you feel for Amber, or even as they feel for Dane. Regret can hurt just as deeply as disappointment, sweetheart."

What was she supposed to say to that? She couldn't defend the Vanderales, because in her eyes, they were in the wrong. But a part of her knew Elizabeth loved her child, whether that child had come from her body or been created in a lab.

They left the office and collected Erin and Amber before heading back to the cabin. Amber was fast asleep and placed gently in her crib by Rachel. Jonas gave Erin her orders for the next day before sending the Breed female back to the barracks.

Kissing Amber gently on her forehead, Rachel covered the baby and quietly left the room. Closing the bedroom door, she stood for a moment and stared at Jonas as he gazed into the fire.

As though there were answers in the flames, she thought. He frowned into the newly lit fire with a concentration that hinted at the dilemma roiling through him.

"A mother's love is all-consuming and complete," she stated quietly as he lifted his head. "A father's love is often veiled in the appearance of disappointment, or exacting expectations. It isn't regret, disappointment or whatever else you want to see it as. It's a parent's love, and a parent that even now, despite the veil of civilization, still doesn't know how to handle or to show the emotions that fill him."

His lips quirked. "God made woman to help him come up with excuses for man."

"He made woman to love man," she retorted.

"Yeah, probably because he knew nothing else would," he snorted.

She wasn't going to argue it. Rachel shook her head with a slight smile, watching as he moved slowly toward her now.

There was a new purpose in him, a hunger that had less to do with lust and more to do with pure, confusing emotion.

Like the Leo, Jonas wasn't always certain of the emotions he felt or what to do with them. These men, Breeds, they loved their women and children with a dedication that bordered the extreme at times, but when it came to loving anyone else, they became contradictory masses of complete denial.

Stopping in front of her, his hands lifted to cup her face as he held her still for his kiss. A long, slow kiss. His tongue touched hers, licked at it, mated with it.

The mating hormone wasn't filling the glands, it wasn't flavoring the kiss, but still, Jonas felt his hunger for her clear to the soles of his feet.

She was his woman. She was his life. Hell, he wondered if he had even had a life before her. Before he saw the innocence and clarity in her eyes, before he'd learned the gentleness and courage that filled her soul.

As he felt her fingers at his neck, sliding around, gripping the strands of hair that grew low along his nape, Jonas knew he had never known a moment's peace until Rachel.

She had the power to humble him, to still his rage, but she also had the power to weaken him.

His knees were nearly shaking at the thought of the pleasure to come as he lifted her against him and moved back to the fireplace.

The flames were blazing, devouring the heavy logs Jonas had placed in the pit, licking greedily at the fuel, consuming it slowly despite the heat pouring from it.

The heavy, incredibly soft fake fur rug spread across the hardwood floor awaited them. He'd had dreams of taking her in front of this fire. Dreams of watching her transform from cool, collected female to the heated, hungry mate he had fantasized about for so long.

She was the perfect mate for him. Strong where he was often weak, understanding of emotions when he had trouble just accepting them. She would keep him warm, keep his heart steady.

He was passing warm now though. As her kiss began to fire the unique Breed mating heat inside him, Jonas felt his cock throbbing in urgent demand.

He was always hard for her, always hungry for her. He swore there hadn't been a day since she had walked into his office that he hadn't been hard for her.

Smoothing his hands down her back, Jonas gripped his mate's hips and pulled her to him, lifting her, finding a ready seat for the brutally hard length of his cock.

"You make me crazy to fuck you," he growled. "There's not a minute of my day that I don't want to be inside you."

His fingers bunched in the short length of the skirt she had worn. She was always dressed so ladylike, so damned buttoned down and proper. The above-the-knee dark skirt was at once conservative and provocative.

He jerked it to her hips, just as it provoked him to do.

The white, long-sleeved black cardigan she wore over the white silk blouse was dropped to the floor. It was all he could do not to rip the blouse from her body.

The sweet swells of her breasts were an enticement; the tight, cherry nipples topping them created a hunger inside him that was both pleasure and pain.

"Leave the shoes on," he ordered, his voice rough as she moved to step from them. "Are you wearing stockings again?"

A siren's smile tipped her honeyed lips. "Would I wear anything else for you, Jonas?"

Something clenched in his gut, some emotion, some overriding sense of rightness.

"So you wear them for me?" Leaving the shirt hanging from her shoulders, her breasts swelling over the cups of her lacy bra, Jonas went to work on his own clothing.

"I wear them for you," she agreed as her fingers moved to help with the buttons of his shirt. "I never wore stockings until I began working for you."

That was no lie. He could smell the truth of her statement. "And this." He rubbed his finger over the soft scalloped lace edge of her bra.

"For you," she breathed out, her breathing growing harder, deeper, as the last button released from his shirt.

Jonas shrugged the material from his shoulders as her fingers went to the closure of his slacks. He could see the hunger heating inside her, smell it burning deeper, brighter, with each passing second.

As his slacks loosened he pushed his shoes from his feet, his fingers still rubbing against the lace of her bra, moving from the scalloped edge to the tight peak of her nipple beneath.

He could feel the heated warmth of her, the throb of blood pounding through her body and echoing in his cock. She was the pinnacle of hunger and need.

The slacks slid down his legs, releasing the torturous length of his cock as his head lowered to her breast, his suddenly sensitive tongue probing at the hard tip.

She stiffened in his arms, her hands going to his shoulders, her fingers gripping tight as he allowed his teeth to rasp the sensitive peak.

"I want to fuck you just like this," he groaned, the need ripping through his balls as he experienced the peaches-and-cream taste of her through the lace.

"Dressed?" Her nails pricked at his shoulders as her voice roughened, a little moan vibrating in it.

"A little dressed." His hand pushed beneath the skirt, gripped the side of her panties and ripped the fragile lace from her hips.

"Buy me panties," she breathed out roughly as the scent of her juices flooding her pussy wafted through his senses with a hint of peaches and heat. Damn, she made him hungry.

He dropped to her knees, his hands holding her hips, the swollen glands beneath his tongue filled with the mating hormone.

Gripping her hip, he touched her with the fingers of his other hand. He parted the glistening, curl-shrouded folds, parted them that tiny bit to see the little bud of her clitoris gleaming within her pink flesh.

The scent of her was addictive.

Kneeling before her, he watched her softly rounded thighs tremble, watched her juices gather thicker along the tiny curls hiding the entrance of her vagina from him.

He would get there. But first, he wanted a taste of her tender clit.

Leaning forward, he flicked the tip with his tongue, felt Rachel's hands grip his head, her nails pricking at his scalp now. Glancing up, he almost grimaced at the flushed, sensual look on her face, the arousal gleaming in her eyes.

He licked around her clit again, felt the flinch of pleasure that rippled through her body, smelled the sweet flush of moisture and felt a purr rumble in his chest.

Fuck, he couldn't stop the sound. She was too good; pleasing her felt too good. He couldn't hold it back. A moan echoed through his ears and her thighs parted farther at the sound.

He let the purr free, let it vibrate, let the sound wash over his tongue and her clit.

"Jonas." She panted his name as her fingers raked over his scalp.

"Shhh, pretty girl," he whispered against her clit as he pressed a firm, sensual kiss on the tiny bud.

"Jonas," she whispered his name again, her tone rife with sensual hunger. "It's so good."

Her legs parted even farther, her thighs opening as he ran his fingers down the slit, parting it, caressing her inner flesh as his tongue licked, stroked the pearly bud.

It swelled with each caress, throbbing in demand as his fingers found the snug, clenched opening to her pussy.

She was tight, silky. A groan rumbled in his throat as the sleek heat of the tender muscles gripped his fingers and they pressed inside.

He knew the grip of that sweet flesh on his dick. It was fist-tight, rippling, flexing. Each tiny spasm of the sleek flesh sent heat driving straight to his balls.

Each small thrust of his fingers into the gripping muscles sent a wave of pure hunger tearing through his senses.

He had the taste of her on his lips, her clit against his tongue, the incredibly tight heat of her pussy gripping his fingers. Fuck, this was good. So damned good.

He sucked fiercely at the little bud, flicked his tongue over it as he let his fingers fuck her with hard demand.

The more he gave her, the wetter she got, the stronger the grip on his hair became, the more her pussy heated, the sweet moisture washing over his fingers, tempting his tongue.

Releasing the tiny bud he'd been suckling, Jonas found himself moving lower, licking, tasting the soft folds as his tongue unerringly found the clenching entrance to her pussy.

It was like burying his tongue in living sensual abandon. Thrusting it deep inside, Jonas moaned at the incredible pleasure, the sweet-spicy taste of her.

He could take her like this forever. He could fill his senses with her and still not have enough. She was addictive. She was lush and sweet and so fucking hot he was going to come before he ever managed to get his dick inside her.

His cock was thick, hard. Throbbing with vicious hunger, the demand that he take her almost painful now.

"So good," she moaned above him, her legs trembling now as sensual weakness rippled through her. "It's so good, Jonas. Oh God. I love your tongue."

He speared his tongue harder inside her, felt the hormone easing from the glands beneath it as the scent of her arousal became deeper, stronger.

Her nails were biting into his scalp now, tremors washing through her. She was close, so very close. He could feel her orgasm building, smell it rushing through her system.

She was becoming immersed in the pleasure, in his touch. Her hips were twisting, pressing her pussy closer.

He was drunk on her. He was dying for more. He wanted more and more of her.

Jonas caught her as her legs gave out and she began to sink to the floor.

She couldn't hold herself up any longer. It felt as though the high heels were suddenly melting rubber, throwing her off balance and pitching her into Jonas's arms.

He caught her, lowered her to the floor, his lips moving up her stomach, licking, stroking, the rasp of his tongue striking incredible sensations against her bare flesh.

He licked, stroked. The tip of his tongue grazed, his lips kissed, as he lifted himself over her, and pushed between her thighs.

There was no true body hair, only the sparse, silky, almost fur-like hairs that were practically invisible on his body. It stroked against her inner thighs as his hips pressed them apart, sent racing sensations of ticklish pleasure radiating through her.

Her hips arched. Rachel felt a heat stronger than that of the fire burning beside them as his fingers pulled the cups of her bra beneath her breasts, lifted them free, then began to devour them.

His thighs were between hers. The hard length of his cock pressed against her sex, rubbed against the swollen bud of her clit and nearly sent her into orgasm.

Her hands stroked over his shoulders. The feel of his flesh, tougher, harder than hers, was a sensation against her palms that had her moaning in pure bliss. The feel of his tongue stroking over her nipples was ecstasy. Pinpoints of sensation, tiny, striking little shocks of pleasure that raced from her nipples to her clit, to her pussy.

She couldn't believe, each time they were together, how good it felt, how incredible the sensations could get.

"Sweet Rachel." His head lifted from her breasts, his silver eyes glowing with hunger. "I could live on the touch and the taste of you."

Her hips jerked, her fingers flexed against his shoulders as her head twisted against the incredibly soft fur of the rug.

As she lifted against his hips she felt him pushing her skirt from her body. It came free slowly and was then tossed aside as he came back to her.

Heat, incredible, blistering heat seared the tender flesh of her pussy as his cock pressed against it, the heavy shaft rubbing against her clit. The engorged head was a heated brand against her lower stomach as his lips burned hers in a kiss that tasted of pure cinnamon and cloves.

It was incredible. His lips twisted against hers; his tongue twined with hers. His hands coasted over her body, lifted her hips, eased her thigh against his as he shifted again.

Rachel froze. Her eyes flew open as she stared back at him, watching as he raised himself above her. The thick crest parted the dew-laden folds, then pressed against the clenched entrance of her sex.

"I'm going to burn alive," she gasped as she felt the snug entrance part, stretch, for the slow, heavy invasion of his cock.

"I'll burn with you," he groaned. "We'll go into flames together."

Staring up at him as he took her with slow, controlled thrusts, Rachel was caught anew by the savage contours of his face, the glow of his silvery eyes, the bead of sweat that eased down the side of his face.

The vibration of a purr was a steady rhythm that stroked over her senses, amazed her and pushed her arousal impossibly further.

Lifting her legs, she wrapped them around his hips, strained upward and fought to take more of him, all of him. The feel of his cock stretching her, stroking her with short, hard inward strokes as he forged steadily deeper, was almost more than she could bear.

She was flying in his arms. Staring in his eyes, she felt the flames enveloping her, washing over her, through her. She was lost in a wonderland of pleasure she didn't want to lose.

"This." He swallowed tightly, grimaced. "It's the most pleasure I've known."

Her legs tightened around his hips as he drove deeper, harder, inside her. Pleasure-pain erupted inside her as he fucked deeper, his cock pressing, stretching the tender recesses of her pussy as she lifted closer, fought to meld into his flesh.

With a final, heavy stroke, he was buried to the hilt inside her, stretching her, burning her, filling her in ways that Rachel knew no other could ever fill her.

Iron hard, iron hot, he stretched the tender tissue, revealing naked nerve endings that flared in response to the stroke and throb of his cock. Pleasure surrounded her as heat filled her. The incredible mix of emotional and physical pleasure wove together, sending her senses spinning into a neverland of absolute bliss.

Her fingers clenched on his shoulders, stroked down his arms. His back was slick beneath her palms as perspiration beaded on his bare skin.

His knees bent, his hands pulled her closer, lifting her hips as he rose to his knees, staring down at her, his expression savage, tight with lust and amazingly . . . love.

Love filled every stroke inside her body. It filled his gaze, his expression. The bogeyman of the Breeds was the lover she had always dreamed he could be.

Wild. He growled. He purred.

His hands clenched on her hips as he fucked her deep and hard, shafting inside her with a desperate pleasure that rocked her soul and filled her with a wild savagery of her own.

Her nails dug into his arms, her hips writhed beneath his, thrusting against him, taking him as deeply as possible. Her legs fell back from his hips, dug into the rug and lifted higher, taking more of him.

Each stroke dug into violently sensitive flesh. It stretched and caressed and filled her with a power, a bliss she couldn't control. She didn't want to control.

She could hear his growls. She heard his purrs. She felt her body tightening, her pussy spasming. She convulsed, rapture exploding through her. She tightened, on him, with him. She felt ecstasy racing through her body, tearing through his as he gave a muted roar.

His cock slammed inside her, buried deep. The feel of his release spurting inside her triggered another orgasm, this one more intense than the last.

When the barb emerged, locked into the most sensitive area of her pussy and stroked with subtle, destructive pleasure, Rachel swore she lost her soul to him.

Her eyes opened, almost unseeing. Her gaze locked with the living silver of his. She felt him, she swore she did, clear to her spirit she felt him locking inside her as surely as he was locked inside her body.

He was a part of her. The other half of her.

"I love you." The words were torn from her, ripped from her heart, locked inside her soul. "Oh God, Jonas, I love you."

She loved him.

Jonas came over her, cradling her in his arms now, his cock still buried deep inside her, throbbing, filling her with his release as he gave every part of himself to his mate.

Hell, he'd already given it to her, he was simply renewing it.

He'd feared mating would weaken him. Instead, it had strengthened him, it had softened him, it had made him see some things clearer, and now he was more determined than ever to secure a measure of peace for the Breeds. Because nothing mattered but the safety of his mate and his child.

Nothing mattered but this.

Holding her.

Loving her.

Being loved.

Jonas Wyatt, the bogeyman of the Breeds, was loved.