Primal

PROLOGUE

FELINE BREED HOME BASE

SANCTUARY

BUFFALO GAP, VIRGINIA

The secured communications and defense bunker sat inside the base of a mountain less than a quarter of a mile from the main family residence in the valley now known as Sanctuary.

The main level was mission control, outfitted with the most technologically advanced electronics, satellite tracking equipment, and mission communications available.

The main level was also the entry level, with the first entrance winding through the various workstations from which orders were transmitted and Breed missions tracked throughout the world.

Sanctuary was the main mission base that the Breeds, the ultimate fighting machine, the balance between man and beast, were hired from and sent around the world to fight in the wars the non-Breeds began.

They were extraction experts, the perfect spies, assassins, trainers, commanders, and the best logistics experts in the world, and they were in high demand.

Mission control was never silent.

The second entrance was further around the side of the mountain, hidden from the main house and sheltered by a thick grove of trees. It opened into a serene lobby that could have graced the most expensive, most exclusive resort but was actually the site of the single most state-of-the art security system ever created. Breed guards manned the entrance both inside and out, while advanced surveillance apparatus scanned, identified, and logged even the stray insects that managed to breech the glass and metal doors.

The lobbylike setting was in fact the entrance to the Breed labs, and thus the security employed was even greater than that for mission control. In the past six months, the entrance had been all but welded closed and buried in an attempt to ensure an impenetrable defense against unauthorized access or exit by any Breed daring to betray the community fighting to save Breedkind.

Breed traitors weren’t unheard of. There had been more than one in the fourteen years since the feline pride leader, Callan Lyons, had announced to the non-Breed world the existence of the Breeds.

He was both cursed and revered for his decision. There were days he wondered if he had made a mistake that would eventually destroy them all, or if history would see him as a visionary who had taken the only path the Genetics Council had left him.

Now, as he swiped the security card through the reader, then laid his palm on the electronic identification plate, he cursed himself.

Leaning closer for the retinal scan, he waited.

“Hello, Pride Leader Lyons, may I have your passcode?”

“Lyons, alpha, niner six, point seven three eight.”

“Thank you, Alpha Lyons. I detect you have guests. Please pass alone. Each guest must pass verification before being allowed access into the inner lobby.”

The electronic security couldn’t be ordered, manipulated, or bribed. It could be programmed, but even that programming had so many damned safeguards that just setting the passcodes for today’s meeting had taken more than thirty-six hours. He almost grimaced at the necessity of it.

As the doors slid open, he passed into the lobby, stood back, and waited as each of his “guests” went through the same security. Standing in the lobby, he could feel the faintest wash of heat over his flesh, a warmth most humans wouldn’t detect but any Breed would sense.

To complete its verification function, the bio-scan system would compare his blood type, any unique internal anomalies, and the scan of his brain to the ones on file for him, just as it would for each of those coming behind him.

Taking this entrance into the labs wasn’t the quickest way in, but it was the quietest. If they entered through the main house, family, Breeds, the human soldiers assigned to Sanctuary, and most especially any Breed spies still left within the base would be aware of it. Going through mission control held the same lack of discretion. And a few of those meeting today were men and women the feline, wolf, and coyote Breeds had gone to great lengths to hide.

They were there for a job, to make decisions that none of them were truly prepared to make and the additional security allowed for this meeting, and would give the participants the ability to make the decisions needed based on a live scrutiny of the situation at hand.

Feline Pride Leader Callan Lyons was certain that those with him today were, like him, unsure how to handle what they were about to face. The director of Breed affairs, Jonas Wyatt; the wolf Breed alpha, Wolfe Gunnar; and the coyote Breed alpha, Del-Rey Delgado, were accompanied by the scientist Jeffrey Amburg, a human Jonas had managed to capture nearly two years before. Others that must remain hidden included a human geneticist known for her advanced research in genetic anomalies, Amelia Trace. Alexi Chernov and Katya Sobolov, coyote genetic and physiological experts, stood next to her. Behind them stood Dr. Nikki Armani, council trained and human and one of the foremost experts on wolf biological, genetic, and physiological attributes. One by one they moved to the scanners, gave their passcodes, and stepped inside.

The feline Breed genetic expert, Elyianna Morrey, waited in the labs below with Jonas Wyatt’s latest captive and the scourge of the Breeds.

The arrival of the other alphas and scientists was a closely guarded secret. The heli-jet that had flown them in was listed as delivering medical supplies and had landed in the secure area outside the labs to offload the fictional medical supplies.

Every precaution had been taken, but Callan had no doubt rumors of the visit were already swirling. No matter their attempts, it still seemed Sanctuary was plagued by too many eyes and ears that reported to either the Council fighting to destroy them, the pureblood groups determined to imprison them, or simply a host of other enemies that believed the Breeds were a sign of the destruction of humanity.

The fact that there were Breeds still betraying their own was an acid eating at his soul. The cruelty the Breeds had suffered in the labs hadn’t been enough for some, it seemed. Compelled by bald-faced greed, the Breed traitors would send their fellow Breeds back to the labs and see them destroyed.

Once the final member of the group had passed the entrance, Callan led everyone to the lobby’s large elevator and entered first. He stood at the back of the cubicle, his eyes narrowed, his gaze touching on each scientist as he prayed, God how he prayed, that despite the horror of what they were facing below, that some hope for the Breeds would come of it.

His gaze lifted as the elevator lights dimmed and a hovering blue light began to swirl around each individual. Unlike the bio-scan upon entry into the lobby, this DNA scan was unconcealed, overt. This final scan would identify the members of the party once again and ensure each person matched the criteria and identity the computers had been given.

Along with the automated check, a Breed enforcer of each pack as well as a feline would watch the monitors and compare the identities to known individuals before the elevator opened ten floors below the base of the mountain.

“Welcome to Sanctuary’s labs, Alpha Lyons,” the wolf Breed on duty spoke through the intercom. “All identities have been verified and access granted.”

The double doors to the elevator slid soundlessly open, revealing a silent, steel-lined hallway.

Sanctuary had once been an unnamed lab in the control of the Genetics Council. The labs below ground had seen the countless births, tortures, and deaths of Breeds. Now, it was home to the hope-filled research that could possibly save them all.

At least, that had been their hope when they had taken the compound after arguing successfully that the Genetics Council owed it to them. A small partial payment for the horrors they had suffered. Breed financial accounts were still being contributed to by the countries and financial empires that had been found to have contributed to the Genetics Council’s work.

But who could they sue now for the horrors they were still suffering and the extreme prejudice building around them?

“How is Ely doing, Callan?” Jonas asked, his voice quiet as they walked down the hall, scanners quietly humming as they did a final check for weapons, weapon components, or any conceivable manner of threat to the facility.

“She’s doing better,” Callan stated. “The past year has been hard on her, but she’s coming out of it.”

She had been used against the very Breeds who trusted her to ensure their health and well-being. A mind-control drug had been slipped into her system, creating in her an addiction and an inability to refuse the orders of those who had initiated the reprogramming of her delicate mind.

She had almost died as a result. And she had almost taken Jonas and one of their best enforcers with her, and Callan knew she still suffered the guilt of it, a guilt that might torment her for the rest of her life.

“The past year has been hard on us all.” Jonas sighed.

For the past month, it had been especially hard on Jonas and his mate, Rachel, as they watched the changes in the child a monster had managed to get his hands on.

Callan felt his chest tighten, felt the ever-present fury that rumbled just below the surface and the animal genetics that roared out in rage.

Amber Broen Wyatt, the child Jonas had adopted after his mating to her mother, had been injected with a serum that was presently destroying the monster who had attempted to use Amber against Jonas.

That serum was eroding Phillip Brandenmore’s mind, destroying it a cell at a time as it forced his body, his organs, his very cellular structure to change.

The monster, Phillip Brandenmore. For decades he had conspired with the Council. He had destroyed Breeds, spilled their blood, filled them with such agony that they had begged to die, that they had bled out, howling with the need to escape.

The same monster the Breeds were now fighting to save. That they were risking their own secrets to attempt to end his agony when he had never had a moment’s mercy for the agony he had caused.

“Can she handle this?” Nikki Armani paused to glance at them, the long black braids she wore in her hair flowing around her as the dark chocolate brown of her eyes gleamed in concern. “Brandenmore is her own personal nightmare.”

“She’s handling it.” Callan kept his expression calm, his gaze, if not serene, then at least, composed.

What else could he say? Ely no longer talked to him as she once had. Hell, she no longer talked to anyone about anything but the most mundane topics these days. She was more reserved than ever, more focused on her research and, it seemed, more determined to cut herself off from everyone who cared for her.

As they neared the end of the hall, the double doors there clicked open, and the stoic faces of the Breeds behind the heavy clear shield at the side of the doors watched them carefully.

Wolf, lion, and coyote Breed enforcers worked together here as they did nowhere else except perhaps the labs in the wolf Breed base of Haven in Colorado. The enforcers, who were charged with the protection of the labs, the research, and their futures, were specially selected and rigorously tested before being assigned to the most sensitive areas of the Breed strongholds.

Callan and his group passed through yet another sensor before heading down a shorter hallway to the observation room where Ely awaited them.

It was a journey that seemed to take a lifetime. Each step of the way Callan was too aware of the fact that what they were doing here was a slap in the face of every Breed living and dead. Because the assignment charged to the scientists moving ahead of him was to save the life of a man who had taken so many Breed lives.

As another enforcer stepped from his post in the hall and opened the doors to the observation room, Callan nodded back at him. This enforcer was human. The only human allowed into the compound, and this one only at Jonas’s insistence.

Jackal had been a part of a specially trained Special Forces group when the Breeds had first revealed themselves. His loyalty to the Breeds stemmed from his commanders, Callan’s brother-in-law, Kane Tyler, the man who had saved Jackal’s life and the life of his sister.

He was Ely’s personal guard, whether she liked it or not. And the fact that she didn’t like it was voiced by her often.

Entering the meeting room, Callan moved to the far end and stood at the head of a long conference table. Chairs were placed around it, but no one sat. Instead, they turned and stared through the window that looked down on the padded cell Phillip Brandenmore had been confined to for more than a month now.

What they saw was shocking, horrifying.

He was a seventy-five-year-old man, but he now had the appearance of a man in his fifties. His hair had grown back; his skin had lost that dry, parchmentlike appearance. The dark age spots that had once covered his face had almost disappeared, and he wasn’t stooped as he had been the night he was taken captive after Jonas’s attack on his mountain cabin retreat.

He sat against the wall, his head tilted back, staring up at the deceptive appearance of a mirror, a sneer on his face.

He knew the mirror was more than a one-way reflection, that eyes watched from the other side. Someone was always watching, both from this room as well as from the room that the video cameras fed into.

“My God, he looks ten years younger than he did the last time I saw him,” Dr. Armani breathed out roughly.

Ely stepped from the shadowed corner of the room then. “As indeed, physically, he’s nearly thirteen years younger than he was the night Jonas brought him in,” she stated. “And the metabolic and cellular changes are only increasing. As is the degeneration of his brain. As his youth returns, we’re seeing parts of his brain actually dying off, and any sense of morality or right and wrong deteriorating. At the same time, his sense of cunning and self-preservation seems to be growing.”

Drs. Chernov and Sobolov moved closer to the window, their expressions still and silent as they stared down at the deceptively unassuming man that stared back at them with hatred and demonic rage.

“He came several times to the Chernov labs,” Katya Sobolov whispered, her gaze somber and filled with shadows. “We often had to hide our girls there for weeks to ensure he did not see them. The Council would have given him whatever, whoever he requested for his research.” Coyote females, one of the least created species of the Breeds. They were incredibly rare, and when found, usually killed.

Breeds. Phillip Brandenmore’s research had been on Breeds.

“True evil filled this one long before he took whatever serum he created from the mates he destroyed,” Chernov said then. “Better to let him die, to study him as he has studied those he tortured and killed. I would say it is no more, perhaps much less, than he would have done.”

“But we’re not monsters, nor are we evil.” Ely stepped closer, her gaze tormented, large brown eyes so saddened they had the power to break Callan’s heart. “And Jonas’s daughter Amber isn’t a monster. If we don’t figure out what’s causing this, and how to reverse it before he dies, then Amber could potentially suffer the hell Phillip Brandenmore is suffering now.”

Only Callan saw Jonas’s expression shift, saw the agony that pierced his icy, silver gray eyes. The infant was a sore point with Jonas. Greatly loved, treasured, and experiencing a subtle change within her own cellular makeup.

“What do you need from us, Dr. Morrey?” It was Dr. Sobolov who finally spoke, her pretty face tightening, becoming cool and composed as the scientist emerged, dedicated and willing to find the answers she needed.

Beside her, Alexi Chernov gave a tight nod, his expression less determined, but his gaze hardening as he too began to slip into the skin of the scientist he was.

“We have weeks perhaps.” Ely sighed as she turned back to the sight of Phillip Brandenmore sneering up at them. “If we don’t have the rest of the puzzle by then, we face losing not only Amber but also the opportunity to find the answers we need to continue hiding mating heat. It’s our opinion the information has been contained so far. It’s better to contain the truth as long as possible.” To ensure world opinion and prejudice didn’t turn against them. Their positions, as well as their safety, were still in a precarious state where fickle human fears were concerned.

“And his accomplice?” Chernov questioned. “This Horace Engalls the press has spoken of? What information might he have?”

“Engalls has been able to avoid us so far,” Jonas drawled, and the look on his face had Callan making a mental note to press Jonas on whatever plans he might have with regard to Engalls. He had a feeling this was going to be one of those stories that would leave him with a very bad taste in his mouth.

“Phillip claims Horace only has the results of the tests and the drugs the research arm developed,” Ely stated. “But, when he’s not as lucid, he’s very smug about the fact that Engalls is involved.” Ely gave a shake of her head. “It’s too hard to determine truth from lie with him, and even if we could, we can’t reveal he’s ever been here or use anything he’s said to prosecute Engalls.”

“If he will not be leaving here, then why save him?” Chernov asked cynically. “Merely study his dead body for the answers.”

Jeffrey Amburg gave a little snort. “Because, like me, the bastard is of more use alive to Wyatt than he is dead. We have an expertise, you see. An ability, information, or contacts that Director Wyatt would like to make use of.”

Amburg had been one of the Genetic Council’s leading genetic scientists in regards to cellular and genetic mutations and manipulations. And he had practiced his craft well on the Breeds he created as well as those he was ordered to experiment upon.

Jonas turned, his dark brow arching arrogantly as his gaze raked over the other man. “After three decades of creating and torturing Breeds, you owe us at least that much,” Jonas drawled as though amused. “And it seemed to me a better alternative than death.” Then Jonas smiled, all teeth, canines flashing dangerously. “Or worse.”

“Worse” being a volcano on a remote Pacific island that was rumored to have already tasted the flesh of others whom Jonas had deemed critical threats to Breed society. What more would he do to save the daughter that the animal inside him had accepted as its own?

Jeffrey stared back at him for long moments, in no way cowed by the look. Finally, though, he gave a small nod, realization seeming to cross his face. “I never considered the alternative perhaps.” His lips almost quirked. “But, I have considered what I owe the Breeds, Mr. Wyatt. I rather doubt Brandenmore or Engalls will see the subject in the same light, though.”

“I guess it’s all according to the threats required to convince them to look at it from my perspective,” Jonas answered mockingly.

Oh yes, Callan thought, he was definitely going to have to have a little chat with his little brother.

“Dr. Morrey, could you give us a clearer timeline for completing our agenda of re-creating the serum and reversing it, should Engalls not cooperate?” Amelia Trace stepped forward, her exquisite, gamine features so void of human emotion that Callan could well imagine a robot existing beneath the living flesh.

Ely breathed out roughly. “Best case scenario, perhaps a month,” she stated. “Worse case, less than fourteen days.” She gave her head a hard shake. “I can’t get any closer than that.”

“Then we should begin, yes?” Amelia asked with a slow, uncaring blink of her eyes. “We have a child to save.”

And Callan was certain the others missed it. That flicker in her eyes. That betraying spark in a wash of brilliant, explosive blue.

For the first time, he saw emotion, and he sensed something more, something that was there, then gone, so quickly he couldn’t analyze it or decipher it.

But still, it was emotion.

“And I have Engalls to deal with.” Jonas turned to Callan, his lips quirking with cool mockery. “I need to discuss that with you.”

Which meant the plan was already in motion.

Better to apologize than to be told no. That was Jonas’s philosophy. Callan hoped it didn’t end up biting his brother on the ass. Better yet, he prayed it didn’t end up biting him on the ass.

ONE

Every good girl loved a bad boy. It was a fact of life, a quirk of nature. Opposites attract, and the badder the boy, the more attractive he was to that good girl who couldn’t help but be drawn to him.

Kita Claire Engalls had to admit that despite the fact that he was obviously a well-respected security specialist, Creed Raines was a definite bad boy. A wolf posing as a lamb, and that so wasn’t working for him.

Six-four, cloudy gray eyes, thick black hair, and an oh-my-God body packed with muscle and covered with rich, darkly tanned flesh. At least, the flesh Kita had seen was rich and darkly tanned. She liked to fantasize the rest of it was too.

Sensuality curved his lips, edged at his thickly lashed eyes, and sometimes, just sometimes, lit the dark gray irises of his eyes with a wicked hunger. A hunger she glimpsed when she had turned fast enough to catch it in that instant before it was gone.

Brushing back a wisp of dark blonde hair as it fell over her shoulder, Kita couldn’t help but wonder at the attraction.

He’d been with them far longer than any other security specialist. A few weeks past a year. She remembered marking the day, almost as though it were some inane anniversary. And it was all his fault. It was the bad boy corrupting the good girl she was.

She had been a good girl all her life, but that didn’t mean she didn’t recognize that glint in a man’s eye. Just because she was a good girl didn’t mean she was stupid, and it sure as hell didn’t mean she wasn’t well aware of what the sensations spiking through her body meant.

When her nipples hardened and throbbed and her clit swelled, aching for touch, she didn’t just know what it meant, but sometimes she was even smart enough to know how to take care of it. When her flesh felt too sensitive and she was so aware of the need for pressure against her lips that she was forced to press her teeth against the lower curve, she knew it was a hunger for his kiss.

That didn’t mean he knew how to kiss. She had assumed any number of men knew how to kiss and had been sorely disappointed. No doubt he would disappoint her as well.

She gave a small sigh as she pushed the sunglasses down her nose and watched as he stood at the other end of the pool. His hands clasped in front of him, the white shirt he wore bright beneath the brilliance of the afternoon sun.

She noticed the other two security specialists, as they called themselves—they were nothing more than hired guns, really—appeared to be sweltering beneath the bright, late-spring sun.

Creed Raines was anything but sweltering.

From where she lay against the lounge chair, she couldn’t detect even a hint of sweat on his brow.

She stared into the dark lenses of his glasses, wondering if he was even awake. He hadn’t changed position in an hour. He had to be asleep.

Could a man actually sleep standing on his feet?

Tilting her head, she watched him carefully.

She had heard of it happening during times of war.

Smiling, she mimicked a kiss toward him, then gave her lips a little flick with her tongue. And there wasn’t so much as a smile or a change of expression.

So much for amusing herself by teasing him. It had become her favorite pastime over the past few years. Well, not teasing her bodyguards, but definitely torturing them in one way or another.

“Kita, isn’t it a little cool yet for sunbathing?”

Well, there went her fun for the day.

Sitting up, she readjusted the chair before pulling on the thin wrap at her side and then glancing up at her father.

“You didn’t bring the iced tea, Daddy,” she chided him with a smile as she curled her legs close to her body and allowed him to sit at the bottom of the chair.

For a man nearing sixty, he was still in reasonably good shape. His hair was still thick, though it was more gray than brown now. Laugh lines were slowly being replaced by worry lines, and his once laughing brown eyes were somber and tired.

The death of her mother last year had destroyed them both, but her father wasn’t recovering.

“You should come in out of the sun.” He cleared his throat uneasily. “It’s still rather cool. You could become ill.”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Daddy,” she told him gently. “I don’t get sick at the drop of a hat.”

For a while she had, when she was younger. She was no stranger to pneumonia and no stranger to hospitals. Thankfully, she had grown out of it. But her father hadn’t grown out of his habit of worrying about her.

“You’re getting restless.” His gaze sharpened on her. “Creed informed me he caught you trying to slip out of the estate last night.”

She turned and stared back at the bodyguard. He had promised not to tell. The damned liar.

She turned back to her father just as slowly. “I’m not twelve any longer,” she stated carefully. “I wasn’t trying to slip from the estate. I believe I calmly got into my vehicle and tried to drive away.”

“From the back entrance?” His brow lifted.

Kita wanted to roll her eyes; instead, she gave a little shrug. “I wasn’t allowed to leave, Daddy. I’m your daughter, not your prisoner . . .”

“My daughter who is now in danger.” His voice tightened, the anger simmering behind his eyes coming through in his tone. “Your uncle is missing now, Kita. Phillip’s body has never been found since the bodies of his guards were discovered in that cabin.”

Kita dropped her gaze to her lap. Twining her fingers together, she tried to think of a way to change the subject.

She and her father didn’t see eye to eye on her uncle anymore than they saw eye to eye on her confinement.

“Kita, stay close to the house.” His voice hardened. It wasn’t a request, it was an order.

She tried, she truly tried to keep her head down, to pretend to acquiesce to his wishes. But there was this part of her that just couldn’t do it.

She lifted her head. “It’s been two years, Daddy, since you and Uncle Phillip decided it was a good idea to attempt to walk into Sanctuary and abuse the Breeds’ hospitality by trying to collect your ill-gotten research. I’m tired of putting my life on hold.”

She hadn’t agreed with them. She had remained silent over the years, she had tried to give her father the time he needed to fix the situation, but it was only growing worse.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Surprisingly, his hand jerked out, his fingers curving around her arm as though he wanted to shake her.

Shocked, Kita’s gaze flicked to where his fingers gripped her tightly before she turned and stared back at him. He too was staring at his hand as though it belonged to someone else.

“Dad?” The quiver in her voice wasn’t fear. It was a reflection of the strike of betrayal she felt tightening her chest.

In response, Horace Engalls uncurled his fingers and pulled his hand back, but the surprise on his face disappeared as the expression of anger returned.

“What happened was beyond both our control.” His jaw clenched, flexed. “What’s done is done. It can’t be undone. But I won’t allow you to be used against me by the Breeds, Kita. I won’t allow you to be turned against me.”

What an interesting turn of phrase.

“No one could turn me against you, except you,” she assured him as she slowly swung her legs over the side of the lounge chair and rose. “I think I will go in now. It’s suddenly not as pleasant as it once was.”

Her father rose as well, his hand gentler but no less firm as he once again gripped her arm and held her in place.

“The Breeds are moving against us, Kita,” he bit out harshly, his once kind, gentle brown eyes now flinty with determination. “Phillip is missing, your mother is dead, your aunt Cara is under arrest, and there are rumors of Breeds targeting Phillip’s entire family. I won’t have them taking you.”

“What are you so frightened of?” Kita could feel the nervousness, the sense of impending disaster suddenly tightening her stomach. “What have you done in the past two years? You swore.” Her breathing hitched. “You swore to me and Mom that you would never help Uncle Phillip in his schemes again.”

Her mother was gone, but she had believed he would honor the promise he made to her, that he would ensure he did nothing further to enrage the Breeds.

“Do you think I had to do more?” This time, he did shake her, just enough to shock her, to send a spurt of wariness pulsing through her. “Do you think, Kita, they wouldn’t use you if they could? That they wouldn’t take you?”

“Why would they want me?” This time she jerked her arm out of his grip, the hurt and anger rising inside her as she fought to hold on to it. She didn’t want to argue with her father. She didn’t want to fight with him, but God help her, what had he done that he was now so frightened?

It was enough to have fear edging past weariness. He had promised, and she had trusted him to keep that promise.

“God, Kita, they want you as a bargaining tool; they believe that by threatening to harm you, they can force something from your uncle. Or that I know something I don’t and they can force it from me.” He raked his hands through his hair, a grimace twisting his face. “They have Phillip. They’ll come for me next.”

“Only if they have a reason to,” she whispered painfully as she stared up at him, desperate to understand where her beloved father had gone. “What have you done, Daddy?”

He shook his head slowly. “It isn’t what I’ve done, Kee,” he whispered then. “It’s what your uncle’s done. And it will destroy us all.”

“No.” She knew better. “It’s not, Father. The only way I would be in danger is if you were involved.”

His lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. It was in his gaze, though. It was in the guilt, the shame, and the pain in his eyes.

What had he done?

He had broken his promise to her and to her mother.

“I’m glad Momma isn’t here,” she whispered tearfully. “I’m glad she didn’t live to see you betray her.”

The blow against the side of her face caught her off guard. The shock of the burning pain, but even more, the horrible sense of betrayal was like a dagger shoved into her soul.

“Mr. Engalls.” The voice was dark, low, and warning.

Kita’s gaze jerked up to meet the dark lenses of Creed Raines’s sunglasses and the tight expression behind them.

“What the hell do you want?” Her father turned on him then, enraged.

“I think you want to back off,” Creed drawled. “I didn’t sign on to watch a father that supposedly loves his daughter suddenly begin abusing her. Now did I?”

“Supposedly love,” Kita choked out as she backed away from both of them. “That’s a fairly apt description for a liar.”

She didn’t wait for her father to turn back to her or to see Creed’s response. Kita all but ran from the two of them, the anger and the pain converging inside her to tear at her heart until she felt as though it were nothing but shreds.

Rushing into the house, she moved quickly through the first floor, up the stairs, and into her bedroom where she slammed the door closed and locked it.

Laying her head against the door, Kita blinked back her tears and knew the decision she had been on the verge of making for the past months had been made the second her father’s large hand had connected with her cheek.

It was time to leave, no matter what it took.

CREED HADN’T EXPECTED this. Staring into Horace Engalls’s eyes, he had to admit that even though he had sensed the tension and the anger building in Kita’s father, he never imagined Engalls would strike his daughter.

Hell. Had he realized what was about to happen, he’d have stepped in sooner. The girl loved her father. She called him “Daddy” with that soft voice that bespoke a soul-deep affection.

He never would have allowed Engalls to do anything to threaten that affection or damage the precious emotion his daughter felt for him.

“Did I ask you to interfere?” The fear lay about Engalls like a particular stink, rancid to the senses.

Creed inhaled slowly, his senses amplified for some odd reason, the animal genetics that shared his body rising to the fore as though a true animal paced within his soul.

“You didn’t have to ask,” he assured the other man with the subtle Texas drawl that went with the identity he had stolen for this little adventure. “I offered. Do you really want to make her hate you? I’d say you’re riding that line with that slap to her delicate face.”

He could see the imprint of her father’s hand on her creamy flesh, and he’d never had such trouble holding back the primal growl that edged at his throat.

In that second he watched Horace Engalls’s lips tremble as emotion, a father’s love, overrode anger and fear.

Engalls lowered his head, gave it a brief shake, then turned and stomped into the house, leaving Creed staring after his retreating back.

Creed almost smiled; definitely he felt a flare of satisfaction. For the past year he’d been working as one of Engalls’s security specialists, slowly replacing the men that had originally come in with him with men he trusted himself. Men who would stand aside and ensure that when the time came, Creed would have a clear path to his objective.

To Kita Claire Engalls, the reigning, mostly spoiled princess of what was left of the Engalls empire.

He had been with her when her mother had died, just after he came to the estate. He’d been here each time she’d tried to slip from the estate for a bit of harmless feminine fun.

Sometimes shopping. Sometimes a late dinner with friends. A few times a bit of dancing at the exclusive nightclubs she and her friends enjoyed.

He knew her.

He knew her habits, he knew her expressions, her scents, and her flirtatiousness.

And he knew his dick was rock hard when she blew him those mocking kisses or watched him over the rim off her glasses as though he were a sensual treat and she wanted to lick him up a drop at a time.

Blowing out a hard breath, he strode to the house and entered as well. Hell, he’d be more than happy to let her have a lick or two, then he’d have his turn.

And he could well imagine the pleasure to be had there. A soft, delicate woman as heated as the hottest fire. Silken flesh. Sharp little nails.

His dick was vicious hard as he moved up the steps. The scent of her reached out to him, drew him. Hell, it was all he could do to keep his senses intact at the scent of her fear and her pain.

Betrayal was a bitter seed, and it was festering inside her. A father who had betrayed so many others surely would have no problem betraying one tender, trusting daughter.

And when he betrayed her, Creed Raines would be there. To deliver the final betrayal.

At that thought, he paused on the final step.

A feeling of reluctance stirred within his chest. Suddenly, fleetingly, the idea of betraying her seemed so very wrong.

Forcibly shaking the thought away, he took that last step, determination steeling him against these other emotions. He’d made a vow. He was a part of something far greater than a twinge of conscience.

Moving to the closed bedroom door, he rapped his knuckles softly against the heavy wood and waited. She was in there. He could smell her tears, her pain. The delicate scent of a woman who had reached a limit.

TWO

Kita swung the door open, expecting to find her father. Instead, she saw Creed Raines standing on the other side.

He’d witnessed her humiliation, witnessed her running. God, she hated that.

“What do you want?” For some unknown reason, she wanted to throw herself against him, to release the tears she was holding inside and feel his arms surround her.

Comfort. She wanted his comfort, and she had never wanted or needed that with the same strength as she did now.

He stepped inside, moving around her as though it was a foregone conclusion that he was welcome.

As though he belonged there.

“Close the door.”

She turned and stared at him in mocking amazement.

“Did someone call and inform you that you were in charge or something?” She gave the door a hard push, though, before turning to face him.

Damn, she was just fucking pretty.

Creed watched her brush back a stray strand of hair, tucking it into the rest of her shoulder-length, dark blonde waves as she glared back at him with soft, doe brown eyes.

Damn, he loved her eyes. He also loved the way she pulled her lower lip between her teeth and pressed down, just a little bit. Just enough pressure to make his body tighten, his dick throb harder.

She hadn’t changed out of the miniscule bikini she had worn by the pool, though it was somewhat obscured by the thin violet wrap she’d put on over it.

She looked good in that dark purple color. Good enough to eat and come back for seconds.

“Would you like to get away for a while?” Where the hell had that offer come from?

She blinked back at him before her gaze narrowed. “Where?”

“Does it matter?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Let me surprise you.”

There was a part of him standing back in amazement and simply shaking his head in amused resignation. But the part of him inviting her out, that was standing there with his cock throbbing in anticipation, and his blood pounding in unusual excitement sent a sense of life burning through him.

There were times when he had felt like a robot, like a man without a course. But that was before he had stepped into the Engalls’s home and met the princess he was to stay close to, close enough to gain her trust, her father’s trust, so he could turn her over to Jonas Wyatt if needed.

“You’ll surprise me?” He watched those dark, doe brown eyes suddenly gleam with anticipation. “What if I don’t like your surprise?”

Oh, that wasn’t happening. He knew her. He thought perhaps he knew her better than he knew himself.

“You’ll love my surprise.” His voice dropped, became rougher, a growl barely hidden now.

He moved toward her, the scent of her drawing him, the awareness of her feminine moisture gathering between her thighs, the subtle scent of it teasing his senses, intoxicating him.

She wasn’t moving away from him either. She stared up at him, her breasts rising and falling heavily beneath the soft material of the wrap, her nipples pressing hard and tight beneath it.

The top of her head barely came to his shoulder, and as she tilted her head back farther, the fragile line of her throat was revealed. Beneath the cosmetic dental work that had been done to hide his canines, Creed swore he could feel a hollow ache, a need to clench into her flesh, to hold her in place. To dominate her.

His hand lifted, his fingers cupping the fragile curve of her neck, feeling the blood beating hard and heavy beneath the silken flesh.

“Why are you doing this?”

He almost smiled. No one could say Kita was stupid. She was flushed, aroused, and ready to fuck, but she was smart enough to realize he was acting out of character.

“Because, you need to get out.” He stepped back, putting distance between them. “I don’t want you slipping out, Kita. I can’t protect you if I’m not with you.”

Disappointment filled her eyes as she slowly shook her head. “I don’t need your pity, Creed. And I’m not a child to need a treat to obey the rules.”

She turned back to the door, opened it, and stood aside in silent invitation.

“Don’t try to slip away,” he warned her. “Your father is focused on the Breeds right now, but there are a lot scarier things in the world.” And he had been there, seen them.

“What could be scarier than a Breed?” Doubt filled her tone. Like many non-Breeds, she had no true idea of the evil that could be found in the world.

“The pureblood societies who believe your father is holding the research your uncle is rumored to have done on several drugs that they believe could destroy the Breeds,” he told her. “Those societies would take you if they had the chance, Kita. They would take you and use you against your father. If he doesn’t have what they want, they would punish you, Kita, in ways you can never imagine.”

And he knew the horrors of it. He had seen the results of it.

She didn’t speak. As she stared back at him, he saw the flicker in her gaze, and he knew she would do exactly as he suspected she was preparing to do.

Kita was going to run.

“Don’t do it.” Before he realized his intent, he was leaning forward, almost nose to nose with her, the dominance rising inside him and nearly overwhelming him.

Creed was a perfect covert enforcer for a reason. He always kept his cool. He never gave in to his impulses. He kept them bottled, kept them hidden, only releasing the tension during sex. And he had partners for that. Women who didn’t mind the rough foreplay, women who didn’t mind fucking a Breed.

But never had it risen so rampantly, so quickly as it did now.

“Don’t do what, Creed? Don’t have a life?” she whispered bitterly. “Don’t have a desire to live or a desire to be more than Daddy’s little princess? Sorry, but the glitter wore off the princess act when I learned my father and my uncle had spent their adult lives torturing the Breeds.”

“Don’t run.” He wasn’t going to touch the rest of it. Not here and not now. “If you run, Kita, I promise, I’ll find you. I’ll find you and I will ensure that you never fucking run again.”

Her eyes widened incredulously. “Are you threatening me, Creed?”

“Oh baby, I never threaten. I promise. And I promise you, you run from me, and you may end up regretting it.”

It was all according to how she felt about fucking a Breed, he decided.

He could have her. And he would have her.

“I don’t like threats or your heavy-handed promises.” Her nose touched his as she all but went to her toes to glare back at him. “And you are not my keeper, Creed. You’re my father’s hired gun, nothing more and, I’m certain, most days, a hell of a lot worse.”

Anger was driving her words. Anger and pain. Disillusionment was a hell of a journey to make, and she was making it in one of the most painful ways.

“I’m worse than you’ll ever imagine,” he growled back at her. “Your worst fucking nightmare, sweetheart, if you run. Trust me on that. Because you don’t want to push me.”

Because he was figuring something out himself, something he hadn’t thought possible. In the past hour, he had begun to suspect that Kita Claire Engalls, the willful, stubborn little princess to a pharmaceutical empire, was actually his mate.

She eased back, her gaze still locked with his, eyes narrowed, her body almost trembling with anger. Anger and arousal. Hell, the subtle sweet scent of her pussy was making him crazed with the need to have her. To taste her.

“This conversation is finished,” she informed him imperiously as her delicate little nose lifted, nostrils flaring in feminine offense. “You can leave now.”

Oh, could he now? As though he were a dog to be ordered outside for disobeying its mistress? It so didn’t work that way for a feline Breed. At least, not for long.

He knew her. He knew her expressions, her moods, her laughter, and her teasing. Until now, he hadn’t really known her anger, and he couldn’t say he was comfortable with it, but he could handle it.

“Don’t push me, sweetheart,” he warned her softly. “Don’t force me into something we’ll both regret.”

He had no doubt in his mind she wouldn’t hate him for life if he forced her into the mating heat, and he sure as hell couldn’t warn her about it first.

Turning on his heel, he stalked from the bedroom without saying more. The problem was, he was so damned close to tasting her he couldn’t trust himself. He wanted nothing more than to jerk her into his arms and take her lips in a kiss he knew would only fan the flames burning between them.

Hell, he hadn’t expected to find his mate here, of all places.

The Engalls princess? Heir to a pharmaceutical company that had worked with Phillip Brandenmore to create a line of drugs potentially fatal to Breeds?

Brandenmore’s scent blocker had made its way into the hands of pureblood societies and the Council-loyal coyote Breed soldiers still desperate to capture the mates of high-ranking Breeds or, God forbid, one of the hybrid children that had been born.

Especially the hybrids born of the wolves. The hybrid wolf-coyote Cassie Sinclair, as well as the child of Aiden and Charity Chance and the son of Dash and Elizabeth Sinclair. Children were so rare within the wolf Breeds that the Council scientists still operating would take any risk to acquire one.

Added to that was the drug therapy created to control a Breed mind. Horrific, destructive, it had nearly driven Elyianna Morrey insane even as it allowed her traitorous lab techs to steal and manipulate valuable mating heat data in an attempt to sell it, to Phillip Brandenmore and Horace Engalls.

Making his way back downstairs, Creed began moving to protect the delicate woman he suspected was his mate, especially from herself. She was in more danger than she knew.

In past weeks Creed had found signs of someone watching the house, but he could detect no unusual scents. Her father was acting strangely out of character, and there were rumors that the pureblood societies were looking to Kita to force Engalls to turn over information he had on the drugs his brother-in-law had given him to manufacturer. Those sample drugs and the ability to produce them on a large scale had been destroyed in an as-yet unexplained explosion at Engalls’s manufacturing facility.

The Breeds hadn’t done it. The information they had gathered said the pureblood societies hadn’t done it either. That left but a few suspect paramilitary groups, but the Breeds had no sources within those organizations who could help them reliably finger those responsible for the explosion.

One thing was for certain: there were too many people looking to use Kita as leverage against her father. Get the girl, and the research could be theirs.

The Breeds desperately needed that research to go along with information provided just weeks before by the daughter of a Breed scientist. Storme Montague had hidden certain research on mates, primal fever, and a vaccine created in a little known lab in the Andes before the Breed rescues had reach that area. The vaccine mimicked one created in Russia for the coyotes and the men and women who worked with them. The vaccine, originally intended as an anti-body against a feared contagion associated with feral fever, was now revealing itself as a much-needed component in the mating and ability to conceive within the Breed community.

Piece by piece they were gaining answers to their questions about their own biology and the mysteries surrounding their creation and their abilities to procreate. They couldn’t afford to lose what little research hadn’t been destroyed because they hadn’t realized the danger it could later represent.

And Creed couldn’t afford to lose the only woman who had made him feel. Who made him realize he was more than just a Breed. She made him realize there might be a chance, however small, that he could be a man as well.

THREE

She managed to slip away from him.

A growl slipped past his throat as one of his human partners gave a loud, exaggerated cough before turning to stare at him in shock. They were standing in the center of Kita’s bedroom as her father braced his arms on her opened balcony door.

“I paid you to keep this from happening.” Horace Engalls turned on them as though it were their fault she had escaped. “You were to protect her.”

“We were hired to keep anyone from getting to her. You didn’t inform us she would end up running away,” Creed pointed out.

“She’s always slipping out,” Horace snarled back at him, his brown eyes flickering with red rage. “You knew that.”

“And we’ve always been aware of the nights that was happening,” Creed replied with far more calm than he felt. “She’s obviously far quieter than her friends have been when they’ve picked her up.”

When it came to stealth, those women were like children in a candy store. All big eyes, giggles, and feminine charm.

“She’s been taken then.” A tremor vibrated through Horace’s voice as he wiped his hands over his face. “God, they’ve taken her.” He lifted his head, his eyes damp now with a father’s tears. “Who could have taken her?”

To feel pity for this man went against everything Creed knew of him. Yet, the pity was there. In Horace Engalls’s face, his eyes, his scent, there was only love and fear for his child.

“We’ll find out,” he promised, knowing she hadn’t been taken. She had run.

The slap to her face the day before, two years of seclusion and fear, and she had had enough.

It would no doubt relieve Horace’s mind to know this, but Creed had a far different agenda than bringing her home.

“How will you find out?” Horace swallowed tightly, visibly shaking now as the fear began to coalesce inside him. “There’s no ransom note. There’s nothing.”

“But there will be,” Creed assured him. He turned to the two men working with him. “Stay here, put a tap on the phone. I’ll see what I can find out and report back.” Turning back to Horace, he hardened his expression and his voice. “Stay here by the phones. Someone will call, and I doubt it will take long. The moment you hear something, one of my men will contact me.”

He turned his back on the father and moved quickly down the hall to his own small suite and the leather bag he kept packed for emergencies.

A change of clothes, weapons, ammo, and a small medical kit were included. Pulling leather riding pants, a black long-sleeve shirt, and a leather jacket out of the closet, he tossed them on the bed before reaching for the black riding boots.

He was dressed and moving down the steps in five minutes flat. He ignored the three men walking into the study: Horace and the two human enforcers assigned to Covert Operations with the Bureau of Breed Affairs.

The lethal black, specially designed motorcycle sat innocently in the drive. Its frame was based on one of the less powerful touring cycles, but every aspect of its functionality had been adapted with Breed technology. Straddling it quickly, Creed pulled the full-face helmet over his head, strapped it beneath his chin, then started the ignition with a flick of his fingers.

Before pulling from the drive, he set the helmet to full security mode and then spoke into the voice-activated controls.

“Activate Engalls, Kita, tracking protocol on all tags.”

The digital display came up on the inside of the visor as the computer answered. “All vehicles presently accounted for, and all but one deactivated and located in the main garage. Vehicle three is being tracked through both automotive tracking as well as electronic tag detected in Engalls, Kita wallet. Location currently identified and highlighted on your screen.”

The digital display reconfigured to show the small red dot identified as Kita’s vehicle at approximately five hours ahead of him.

“Computer, display routes to intersect in quickest possible time.”

The map reconfigured once again. He could shave two hours off his time and catch up with her well before evening.

“Onboard navigation detected in vehicle,” the computer spoke unexpectedly. “GPS programmed and displaying onboard directions to destination.”

God love her heart, Creed almost smiled. Kita liked to say she was directionally challenged. She loved that GPS, which was the reason he had tied the trackers into the navigation on each vehicle her father owned.

The computer came back seconds later with the address of her destination, and this time, he couldn’t help but smile. She was driving right into the thick of Breed territory and didn’t even know it.

He loved it. He couldn’t have asked for a better destination himself.

“Call Wyatt,” he ordered the computer as he turned onto the interstate and began heading out of New York toward Virginia. The coordinates the computer laid out would have him arriving at her location before she did. A small Tennessee community that barely numbered in the hundreds during the tourist off season. And it was definitely not tourist season for that area right now.

“Wyatt is currently unavailable,” the computer replied.

“Call Wyatt. Verification pass, tango, seven.”

The computer paused for long seconds before replying. “Verification pass approved, Enforcer Raines. Director Wyatt will be on the line momentarily.”

He didn’t have to wait long.

“Wyatt,” Jonas answered shortly.

“She’s on the run,” Creed informed him immediately.

“The Engalls brat?” Jonas growled. “Do we have a situation?”

“We can make it a situation,” Creed replied before quickly launching into his explanation. He could almost hear Jonas thinking hard and fast on the other line.

“I’ll have him contacted,” the director finally stated thoughtfully. “Keep her incommunicado until further notice. I’ll put the plan in effect and see if we can get Engalls to cooperate.”

Which meant Brandenmore wasn’t cooperating. The deranged CEO of Brandenmore Research had become so twisted, so pure evil and cunning that even as his mind was being eaten away, he was still scheming to destroy the Breeds.

The only hope left was the chance that Engalls could figure out where that research had been hidden. The Breeds had exhaustively searched every known location associated with Brandenmore and Engalls—corporate offices, research sites, private residences—but had found no trace of the research the Breeds knew Brandenmore had developed with Engalls’s help.

“Do you know where she’s headed?” Jonas questioned.

“I have her navigation system tagged as well as her wallet,” Creed answered. “Her location was punched into the nav, and I have it now.”

“Excellent.” The satisfaction in Jonas’s voice had Creed’s lips tightening for a moment. “Keep her out of sight and out of communication, Creed. And pray.” For a moment, the agony Creed knew the other man was going through slipped into his voice. “Pray Engalls cooperates when he suspects the Genetics Council has kidnapped his daughter.”

And he was praying. But, Creed admitted, he had been praying since he learned what Brandenmore had done to the three-month-old infant: injected with the same serum he had injected into himself. The serum that was quickly killing him. And he refused to give the information on it, refused to do more than give them the original serum and demand they learn why it was destroying him and not the child. As though he feared giving the Breeds his research would result in whatever was needed to save Amber only.

Creed couldn’t swear that wouldn’t be the direction the Breeds took.

Let him die, and Amber would die. By refusing to turn over the research, Brandenmore was ensuring they dug deeper into the ailment destroying his brain. Unfortunately, they weren’t going to find the answers in time to save him from death. And with him dead, the serum he had used, Ely had assured them, would no longer be of use without Brakenmore’s living body to test any cure on.

A double-edged sword that Creed knew was putting not just the child at risk, but the entire Breed community as well.

Jonas had known the only weakness in the Brandenmore and Engalls families was Kita, Horace Engalls’s daughter. He also knew other groups would be aware of that as well. Creed had been sent in to ensure she was safe, and to ensure that when the time was right, the Breeds would have possession of her.

Simply kidnapping her wouldn’t convince her to transfer her loyalty from her father to them, though. Creed had been waiting, waiting, determined to take advantage of the slightest weakness where she was concerned.

If the Breeds had Kita on their side, then they would have Horace.

And Creed now had an ace.

Mating heat.

That twinge of guilt was only growing, though, tightening his chest and pricking at his soul. Because now, he knew her. And he knew, if she ever learned he had deceived her, she might end up being the only woman capable of turning her back on the phenomena.

Now wouldn’t that just suck!

SHE WAS HOME.

Kita stepped into the small house, closed and carefully locked the door behind her, then let out a weary breath. The drive from New York wasn’t overly long, but this time it had seemed to take forever.

Of course, if she had refrained from watching the rearview mirror, it might not have taken near as long, nor seemed so tiring. But she kept expecting to see Creed and that wicked black motorcycle of his riding behind her.

She felt stalked. Like prey. Like a hare running from the wolf and unable to find a hole deep enough to hide within.

She was safe now. She had to be. This hole had to be deep enough, because it was the only place she had left to escape to, the only place no one knew of.

Deep in the mountains of Tennessee, hidden outside a tiny little community of only a few hundred. The house wasn’t in her name; it wasn’t tied to anyone or anything she was associated with.

Her eyes closed, she ignored the sense that she had left something behind, or perhaps that something had followed her. She had been careful, and she had learned how to be careful.

Creed had taught her that over the past year.

She had watched him, she had listened and taken notes, and when she ran, she had remembered everything he’d told her about how to escape a possible enemy.

He wasn’t the enemy, but he might as well be at the moment.

“Did you have a nice drive?”

A screech erupted from her throat as her eyes flew open, her hands jerking, scrambling for the doorknob and managing to do no more than turn before he was suddenly there.

Kita cried out in shock as his hand flattened against the door, pushing it closed and pressing her against it.

Full body contact.

In the year he had been in her father’s employ, she had never felt the full effect of his hard, muscular body, or the heated warmth it generated.

Her head jerked back, pressing against the wood, her gaze connecting with his as she breathed in a shocked gasp. Against her stomach, hard and engorged, his cock pressed into her.

“Did you really think I’d let you get away so easily?”

Dark, rough, so sexy she swore her knees weakened.

Kita swallowed tightly. “How did you find me?”

“Maybe I’m just smarter than your average hired gun,” he drawled.

Kita felt her lips. She hated it when that happened around him. That need to be kissed. It was so intense, an ache that quickly struck to other, much more sensitive areas.

“I’m sure you are,” she retorted, but her tone wasn’t snappish or shrewish as she would have wished. It was soft. It was a come-on and she knew it even if it was involuntary. She only wished she could sound like that on demand. “Now, tell me how you managed it.”

The smile that quirked the corner of his lips suddenly had her heart racing, the blood pounding furiously through her veins. It was such a wicked look. Such an extreme bad-boy look.

Her thighs clenched, her clit became hot, swollen, and achy as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth and pressed.

“I could do that better. Every time I see that pretty lip clenched between your teeth, you make me want to take a bite too.”

She felt herself melt. Her juices eased from her pussy, saturating the folds between her thighs as she barely, only barely managed to hold back a whimper.

“You haven’t even nibbled,” she whispered. “And I offered.”

“Did you now?” His hand slid from where it was braced over her head, touched her shoulder, caressed to her elbow, then slid over the thin material of the sweater sleeve and gripped her wrist.

Before Kita could grasp the meaning of what he was doing, he’d gripped both her wrists, pulled them quickly over her head, and secured them in one large hand.

“Creed.” It was a protest. She was certain it was.

It had to be a protest, she told herself. Dominance games really didn’t turn her on. She liked slow, easy touches. Foreplay that lasted forever. Or at least longer than three minutes.

But she couldn’t help but realize her cunt was suddenly so sensitive that even the feel of her moisture easing from it was a caress.

“Are you wet, Kita?” The dark male growl in his voice sent a shiver chasing up her spine.

She realized then why she loved his voice. It was strong, fierce. A dark, heavy sound, like a great jungle cat prowling around her.

Except Creed had a way of making her feel a hell of a lot more than that edge of fear she felt around the big cats. And so much more than the wariness she had felt around several of the Breeds she had come in contact with over the past years.

He made her feel alive. He made her realize she was more sensual, and more alone, than she had ever realized before.

“You’re not answering me.” His head lowered, his lips brushing against her cheek. “Are you wet?”

She shook her head as she fought the mesmerizing cadence of his voice.

“No?” The edge of amusement in his voice had her heart skipping a beat. “So, if I can manage to get my hand inside those snug jeans of yours, I won’t find you slick and hot for me?”

His free hand moved to her waist, then to her hips before his fingers found the snap of her jeans and played with it teasingly.

The backs of his fingers brushed against the bare flesh of her stomach beneath the short hem of her light sweater. The warm caress, as delicate as it was, had her nipples tightening, throbbing as she felt her lashes becoming heavy, a sensual drowsiness stealing over her.

“Why are you doing this?” She needed to think right now. She had decisions to make, a life to build. “Why did you follow me?”

“Why did you run from me?” His head lowered until his cheek was beside hers, his lips at her ear, the warmth of his breath caressing the delicate shell. “Didn’t I warn you not to run from me, Kita?”

He had, she remembered it.

“You’re dangerous to me,” she whimpered. “We both know it, Creed. I can’t handle you.”

He would break her heart. She wasn’t the casual sex type; she’d learned that in college. She needed the commitment, the monogamy. She needed to feel as though she belonged, and she hadn’t found that yet. Or at least, she hadn’t felt it until Creed. From the moment she’d met him, something inside her had clicked, had opened a part of her sensuality that she hadn’t known existed.

“How do you know you can’t handle me?” A gentle, heated nip at her ear caused her to jerk against him, a breathy little moan leaving her lips as she stared at the wall across from them and fought to steal back just a few of her senses.

But it wasn’t happening. He wasn’t going to let it happen. In the next instant, the snap of her jeans parted.

FOUR

Creed watched her eyes and felt that irritating itch just beneath his tongue as the snap of her jeans parted under his fingertips. His palm flattened against her lower belly, his fingers tucked just above the warm pad of her pussy.

Sweet, feminine heat wafted to his nostrils, intoxicated his senses. She made him almost drunk on the scent of her arousal, on the knowledge of the sweet, feminine hunger that assailed her.

He’d never experienced anything like this. Mating heat was still a relatively mysterious phenomenon to those Breeds who hadn’t yet mated. They recognized the altered scents of mates. There was an awareness of certain unnatural changes, a lack of aging, or at the very least a slowing of the aging process. But the unusually heated scent of mates’ arousal was infused with something so deep, so emotional, the unmated found it impossible to process.

Mated couples made the unmated highly uncomfortable because they exuded a sense of emotion wholly unknown to unmated Breeds, a sentiment that went far beyond loyalty or brotherhood.

As Creed let his fingertips caress the soft flesh of Kita’s stomach, felt her heavy breathing, scented the sweet heat of her pussy, he now understood the deep emotion of the mated.

Over the past year, he had come to know Kita, to sense her, growing ever closer to her, never realizing he was falling in love with her. Until now.

Now, staring into her big brown eyes as his fingers moved slowly lower, aching to touch her slick head, Creed realized that in the past months, he had been placing Kita even above Jonas’s orders.

“Creed.” The whispered plea on her lips tore through his senses as his lashes drifted to half-mast, her features flushing with a delicate pink of needy hunger.

A second later he found the soft, delicate curls just above her clit. They were warm, and lower, God, lower, he swore he could already feel the moisture he knew was gathering on the soft folds.

God, he wanted to kiss her.

His gaze dropped to her soft lips, the way her tongue peeked out and flicked over them. He wanted to take her, taste her hunger and her need. Taste the delicacy of her mouth before running his tongue down her neck, along her breasts, her tight nipples, before finding the luscious heat awaiting him there.

“Kita.” He pressed his forehead against hers, swallowing and tasting the hint of cinnamon that eased from the swollen glands beneath his tongue. “We need to go a little more slowly.”

Yet his fingers were just a breath from her clit, pausing, aching to stroke the tight knot of nerves that hid within the soft curls and tender folds of the woman he held against him.

“Okay,” she breathed, but she didn’t try to pull away. Instead, she pushed against him, her hands tightening on the material of his shirt as though to hold him to her.

She had no idea who he was. She had no idea what he was. A Breed, an enemy of her father, and once he kissed her, there would be no way to hide it.

His fingers slipped farther, touched the hot kernel of her clit, and he lost it.

He was a Breed, he wasn’t a robot. He couldn’t touch her, couldn’t want her with such hunger and not take what was being offered to him so enticingly, so willingly.

“Creed, kiss me.” The plea slipped from her lips and tore past what little control he had left.

“Kita, you don’t know who I am.” He fought to breathe in something more than the hot scent of her.

She moved against him, her clit stroking over his fingertips as he told himself he had to reveal the truth to her. Ordered himself.

“I dream of you,” she whispered then. “Do you know how I fantasize about you, Creed? I touch myself and try to pretend it’s you. I’m tired of pretending. I know you’re the man I hurt for.”

His head turned, his lips lowering to her ear where he nipped at it in sensual retaliation or in approval, he wasn’t certain which.

“It may hurt worse,” he groaned, “if I kiss you.”

“Nothing can hurt worse.”

Her head tipped back as his moved. He told himself he had only wanted to see her face, to move from the too rich scent of her arousal where his had rested, too close to the heavy vein pounding at her neck.

Her lips were there, brushing against his, sending a surge of lust tearing through him and a pulse of the hot, rich elixir held in the glands of his tongue.

Jerking his head to the side, Creed lifted his free hand and quickly jerked the cosmetic disguise from the canines at the sides of his mouth.

If she noticed what he had done, she didn’t give a sign of it. When he returned, his lips covering hers, she gave to him. Her lips parted, a soft moan passed her lips, and Creed took full advantage.

The animal inside, repressed from far too many years of covert work, rose inside him with a savage, internal growl, and he gave her the kiss that a male Breed can only give to his mate.

A dark, wicked, primal kiss intent on binding her, holding her, on mating her in the most savage sense.

KITA HAD NEVER been given a kiss that made her hungrier. She could be aroused. She had been aroused many times, by several men.

Until this kiss.

She hadn’t believed a kiss could be sexy, that it could fire the senses and pull her deeper into her arousal.

Until this kiss.

Creed’s head lowered, the thunderous gray of his eyes ensnaring her gaze as she felt a heavy, sensual lassitude overtake her. Her lips parted involuntarily, her lashes fluttered as she fought to keep them open, and her heart began to race in heavy, erotic excitement as the finger at her clit exerted just the slightest pressure at the moment his lips brushed against hers.

The touch, though oh so subtle, was like heat lightning. A small gasp escaped her lips, giving him the perfect invitation to more fully lower his head and take possession in a way no other man ever had.

Confidently, teasingly.

With his tongue, he traced the curve of her lower lip, then drew it between his teeth, worrying it with sensual precision; after one last small nip, he bestowed a flicking lick that had her lifting closer to him.

Between her thighs his index finger stroked, pressed, subtle in its destruction and sexual favors.

Kita could feel herself shaking, trembling. There was such a sense of need, of hunger rising inside her, she wondered she wasn’t crying out from it.

She wanted his kiss.

A full, seductive, melting, lust-arousing kiss that would burn her to the tips of her toes.

She had read about it.

She had dreamed about it.

She had sensed it had to be out there. After all, where there was smoke, there was surely fire, and even teenagers swore they had experienced the perfect kiss.

One that was primal.

One filled with hunger.

A kiss they couldn’t resist.

In that second, his lips covered hers. Parting the desperate curves, his tongue slipped inside in a teasing kiss against hers, retreated and came back, as her arms lifted to twine around his neck and hold him to her.

His kiss became deeper still, and as a hungry growl vibrated against her lips and the arm slipping around her back tightened, Kita finally found that kiss she could lose herself within.

A subtle hint of cinnamon met her taste buds as his tongue licked at hers once again, his lips stealing her senses and her control. This time, this kiss, was that intimate stroke of fire and ice, lightning flaring through her senses, heat wrapping around her body. It was everything she had ever heard a kiss should be.

His arm wrapped around her, strong and warm, so strong. There was no breaking that grip. There was no way she wanted it broken.

Tightening her arms around his neck, she tilted her hips, pressing the hardened bud of her clit more firmly into his fingers as she felt him pushing her tighter against the door.

This should have happened sooner, she thought distantly. She would have never run if she had known she was running away from this.

The deep drugging kisses burned like fire in her soul, obliterating any thought of protest, any need to protest. Sensation traveled through her nerve endings, exciting them as nothing in her life had before. Before Kita realized she was moving, she was rubbing against him, desperate to get his fingers lower, to fill the emptiness inside her.

Nothing mattered but getting closer to him, to fulfilling the promises he made with his lips, with his tongue, with the hungry inhuman rumble of a growl that vibrated in his chest.

That sound was a warning, and one she chose not to heed. To heed it would be to pull herself away from him. It would mean relinquishing the warmth and the tidal wave of sensations he’d unleashed within her.

“Kita.” Marked. Hungry. That sound sent a shiver racing through her nerve endings.

Digging her nails into the material of his shirt, she was on her tiptoes, arching into him. Feeling his cock pressing against her abdomen, she tried to get ever closer, his fingers curving, pressing lower, rimming the clenched opening of her pussy as she gasped and tried to draw more of the luscious, rich taste of his kiss to his tongue.

“Kita.” The hard, dark groan as he pulled back from the kiss drew a protesting cry from her lips.

Struggling to open her eyes, she stared up at him, her breathing hard and rough as she swore she could still taste him. She ran her tongue over the lower curve of his lip, almost moaning at the heated taste of cinnamon and spice to be found there.

Then the breath whooshed from her lips. Her back arched. Pleasure became sharp, all-consuming, as she felt two, hard, broad fingers pierce the clenched, tightened opening of her pussy.

Ecstasy began to build in her bloodstream, whipping through her system and spasming through the inner muscles of her vagina as it gripped his fingers in reflexive response.

Hard fingers slid up her back, tangled in her hair, and dragged her head back as he stared down at her savagely.

“Do you have any idea what I could do to you?” His voice was so dark, filled with the same hunger that gleamed in his eyes. “I could take you, Kita. I am going to take you. Every sweet, soft inch of that tight pussy.”

Oh hell, she was going to come. Sensation slammed into her womb, through her pussy, tightening it further as she felt her juices surge between his fingers and her vaginal walls.

“Why wait?”

She’d managed to surprise him. She could see the surprise in his eyes.

Then Kita got the surprise of her life.

His lips pulled back in a grimace, flashing the very defined, wicked, animalistic canines at the side of his mouth that proclaimed his animal genetics.

He was a Breed.

Her eyes widened. His narrowed.

A growl rumbled in his throat as his fingers surged deep inside her, curved, and pressed against a hidden, too sensitive spot with one, two little rubs that destroyed her senses.

She was already primed for him.

She was already ready to go over that edge into oblivion.

She hadn’t expected this. Considering all she had heard about the Breeds, she shouldn’t have been anything but terrified. So terrified that fear should have been her only possible response.

Instead, she felt ecstasy.

Rapture.

A hard, guttural cry tore from her lips as an orgasm tore through her body.

It exploded in her clit, her pussy, then whipped through her womb and drew the rest of her body bow tight.

The wailing, desperate cry that fell from her was a sound she had never made before. It came from the very core of her being, as though the pleasure, a pleasure like none she had ever experienced before, had taken control of her senses.

Clamping her thighs around his hand, she tightened her pussy on the fingers that still caressed, still rubbed that primal spot inside her. Starburst radiated through her brain.

“Creed.” His name was a sound of agonized pleasure as she felt the breath still in her chest for long, precious moments.

She wanted to feel every sensation. She wanted to know it, to memorize it. She wanted to lock it inside her and keep it with her for the rest of her life.

Because there was no way she could keep Creed. There was no way the Breed holding her could be the man she had longed for, the man she had ached for all these months. There were was no way her father’s enemy could ever love her.

As the pleasure began to dim, reality took its place, forcing back the fantasy as she slowly regained her senses.

His fingers eased from the grip she had on them.

His cock still pressed against her hip, hard and fierce, the heat of his flesh seeming to radiate through the leather of his pants.

Thunderous gray eyes were nearly black, perspiration dotted his forehead, and his chest rose and fell with his harsh breathing.

And only one question could resonate through her mind.

Why?

FIVE

“Don’t try to run again. You won’t make it far.”

Kita stared at Creed, her father’s security specialist for the past year, and oh so obviously no more than a plant by the Bureau of Breed Affairs.

Sitting in the chair across from him, she crossed her legs, propped her elbow on the padded arm, rested her head against her palm, and just stared at him as he sat on the couch across from her, leaning forward, forearms braced on his knees, his eyes locked on hers.

“Now don’t you just look like the disgruntled kitty,” she drawled mockingly. “Or is that pooch? Feline, wolf, or coyote?”

His eyes narrowed. “Feline. Lion.”

Her lips pursed in a vague imitation of thoughtfulness. “I must be top priority if the director of the Bureau of Breed Affairs sent one of his lion enforcers to play babysitter for the past year.”

His lips thinned. “I wasn’t your babysitter.”

Her brows lifted. “Well, you weren’t parked on my father’s ass, so I rather doubt Jonas Wyatt had you babysitting him. So tell me, Creed, why were you there? Information? To simply keep tabs on us? Or were you there to kill one of us when the time was right?”

He sat back slowly, his arms crossing over his chest as his expression became set in cool, unemotional lines.

He wasn’t there to kill her, and he wasn’t there to kill her father.

“Information.” She sighed. “That’s why you’re there, isn’t it?”

“Then why am I here instead?”

“Dad sent you?”

“You were calling him ‘Daddy’ before,” he pointed out, and in the shadows that crossed his face, she could have sworn she saw a hint of anger in his gaze.

He had no right to be angry with her. If anyone had a right to be angry, she did.

“What I call him is none of your business,” she informed him with a mocking roll of her eyes. “He sent you?”

He shrugged at the question, and she took that for a yes. It was the only reason he would have followed her.

“When are we driving back? I can’t leave my car here.”

“We’re not going back just yet.”

How interesting.

Kita continued to stare back at him, wondering at that feeling of heated moisture between her thighs.

Damn him, he kissed like a fucking sex god. Like her greatest fantasy. He had done what others had failed to do. His kiss had only fueled her need. Then he had done what two other lovers hadn’t even managed to come close to. He’d sent her into orgasm. And he had managed it with only his kiss and his fingers. Other men hadn’t even been able to do it, no matter the grunting efforts they’d put into it.

SHE WAS GLARING at him.

Creed narrowed his eyes as he tried to read her expression.

It was impossible.

For the first time since he had become her bodyguard, Creed could not tell, by her expression alone, what she was thinking. But there was enough emotion rolling off her for him to guess by scent alone. And there wasn’t enough anger to save her.

She should be furious. Ahead of the subtle scent of arousal still coursing through her, she should be raging at him. Which would only make the arousal hotter, build higher.

Instead, she was, first and foremost, aroused; behind that, he sensed irritation and confusion.

The confused part, he shared. Because all things considered, she was truly rather rational. Especially considering the fact that she was now in mating heat.

Just as he was. He’d had her kiss, he’d had her orgasm, but he was still vicious hard, his dick throbbing with furious hunger. It was the most intense need he had ever known. Since the moment his lips had touched her, since he had felt the warmth of her inner lips, the mating hormone had begun to build in the glands beneath his tongue.

It was more than an itch now. It was a burn, an arousal far deeper than it had been before the mating heat had kicked in.

“I don’t like that look on your face,” she muttered as he continued to watch her silently, to draw in the unique scents of her.

He arched his brow, unwilling to allow her into his thoughts just yet. To give her a chance to learn how deep his need for her went when he was beginning to grow very concerned over what the next few days would bring.

“And what do you mean, we’re not going back just yet? That’s why Dad sent you after me, correct?”

She wasn’t calling her father “Daddy” any longer. And each time she said “Dad” instead, the scent of disillusionment drifted toward him.

Every emotion had a scent, and to the Breed senses, they were easily detectable.

Disillusionment was a scent that clashed with her innocence, her compassion. It was a dark scent of sulfur subtly underlying the sweetest, softest scent of a spring rain, the scent of her arousal. It was there, though, and it pissed him off.

“Cabin fever does crazy things to a person.” He shrugged as he watched her carefully. “It’s my opinion that perhaps you need a few days’ vacation. A chance to relieve some tension.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. But he wasn’t about to tell her that he and his boss were leading her father to believe she’d been kidnapped.

“He doesn’t know you’re a Breed, does he?” Her lips pursed mockingly.

Amusement joined the other scents, just the slightest hint of it.

“No, he wasn’t aware of it.”

“What about the men you were working with?”

His brow arched. “I didn’t tell them.”

He hadn’t had to tell them. They were part of the Bureau of Breed Affairs; Jonas had likely told them. If not, then it wouldn’t have been hard for them to guess simply because Creed had been working with them for so damned long.

Kita shook her head in amusement, an amusement he could easily read on her expression this time.

“You don’t hate Breeds,” he commented.

She rose from her chair and moved languidly across the room before turning and leaning against the door frame and staring back at him. “I never hated Breeds, Creed. They didn’t ask for what was done to them. They were born into it.”

Created into it, Creed corrected her silently. They had been created into this world, and trained rather than raised, to be killers.

He nodded slowly. Over the year he’d been in her home, he had seen that in her. She’d been waiting, watching, neither trusting nor distrusting the Breeds. She had paid careful attention to news stories and discussions, and at odd times had seemed to be studying her father, essentially observing him in the act of just being a father.

“And now you’ve kissed one,” he said softly. “Come in the arms of one. What do you think now?”

“I think you’re just as savage and as determined as every report I’ve ever read says you are. And I highly doubt you’ve been in my home to protect me, no matter the danger. So why not tell me exactly why you were there.”

“That was why I was there, Kita.” It just wasn’t the only reason he was there.

She nodded again, her expression, her gaze thoughtful. It was then the scent of her reached him. The increased feminine heat. The arousal burning hotter, burning brighter inside her.

“Time will tell why you’re here then, won’t it?” she whispered, breathing out deeply.

“Will it?” He rose to his feet himself then, moving toward her slowly, feeling the hunger rising inside him as well. “Perhaps it’s an answer we should find now, Kita.”

Her heat wasn’t as intense as it would be once he’d spilled his seed inside her, but the arousal was high enough to slowly become uncomfortable.

Advances into the mating phenomena were coming in slowly, being researched to damned death, and only then was certain information being shared with the Breeds.

It was still a subject considered NTK, Need To Know. And only Breeds showing visible signs of mating, or those involved in highly sensitive operations, were given the information.

Creed had been given the information. He knew the suppositions, the small advances that had been made, the research the Breed scientists had done. And he knew the heat hadn’t reach its full pitch yet. And it wouldn’t until he released his seed inside her.

Until then, the hormone he had released so far would irritate more than anything else.

Unless he kissed her again.

It was a one-kiss gig unless he wanted her to hate him.

Condoms required.

There were still the tiny hairs along his visibly hairless body that carried the hormone, but the quantities were so minute that as long as he didn’t kiss her again, then he could control it.

As long as he didn’t fuck her without a condom, it would be a while before the ramifications were apparent.

At least, to Kita. He, on the other hand, was already feeling the ramifications. He’d kissed her, and so the hormone was now infused with the genetic impulse to increase the heat and torture their bodies until conception occurred. To mutate the genetics in his sperm to be more compatible with her ova even as any hormone shared with her would make her likewise more compatible with him.

Stopping in front of her, his hand reached out and gently lifted a heavy lock of hair. He felt almost mesmerized by that hair. So many shades of natural blonde shimmering against his fingers.

He could feel the rumble of a growl in his throat.

He could smell her arousal, her interest. He could smell emotion, tenderness, and yet a rising need for confrontation. A scent reminiscent of that detected within both mates and human couples alike. A scent that came close to love.

Forcing his gaze from the heavy lock of hair he held, he took in the slumberous passion outlining Kita’s face.

“You’ve entranced me, Kita Claire,” he whispered as he turned his head slightly, the need to kiss her barely held in restraint by the knowledge of the consequences.

“Have I really?” A trace of breathlessness infused her tone. “Maybe you’ve done the same to me, Creed, even if you are being rather arrogant about it.”

“It’s part of our genetics.” His gaze centered on her lips.

No kiss, he told himself. He couldn’t kiss her, he couldn’t lick her, he couldn’t bite her. His eyes closed as he leaned his forehead against hers. He couldn’t taste the silken, saturated folds of her pussy no matter how his mouth watered for it.

He had to keep his tongue in his mouth, his lips closed.

He had to protect her, at least until he could tell her the truth.

But that didn’t mean there weren’t other ways to play.

There were many ways to play. Ways that would leave them both gasping, their bodies perspiring in release.

He would make certain she didn’t miss the kiss. But he would. God help him, he would miss the taste of her wicked little tongue, the feel of her lips beneath his. And the taste of her soft pussy. That he was truly going to regret missing out on.

“Promise me something, Creed,” she said.

His lashes lifted to stare down at her as the hunger ate at him.

“If I can,” he answered.

“Promise me you aren’t doing this for some sort of Breed revenge. That you’re not sleeping with me in some attempt to make my father pay for whatever he and Uncle Phillip have done.”

Uncle Phillip. Phillip Brandenmore was her uncle through Horace’s marriage to Phillip’s younger sister.

“I can swear to you that I’m not going to sleep with you to make your father or your uncle pay for whatever crimes they committed against the Breeds.” That was easy enough. It was the truth.

Her hand lifted, the tips of her fingers smoothing over his cheek as he watched her soft brown eyes melt with emotion.

He’d encouraged emotion in her from that first day, from the first itch he’d felt beneath his tongue. He’d teased, flirted.

“Kiss me, Creed,” she whispered the one plea he couldn’t satisfy. “Like you did earlier.”

His head lowered. A little. God help him, let him be able to stop when he needed to.

As his closed lips smoothed across her forehead to her temple, he let his hands drift up her hips, pushing beneath her light sweater to find her breasts.

Smooth, firm globes fit his palms as her tight hard nipples met the pads of his fingers. He could survive without her kiss, he told himself. He could survive without releasing inside her. It wouldn’t kill him. Hell, other Breeds had gone without their mates for years before, and they had lived.

He would live as well.

But first, he would have to distract her. He would have to give her so much pleasure that she didn’t realize the kiss wasn’t there.

Bending, he put his arms behind her knees and her back, lifting her against his chest as he carried her quickly to the bedroom he had found earlier.

The bed was already turned down. She’d let someone know she was coming because the pantry as well as the refrigerator and bathroom were stocked with new items. Nothing had been used before.

Laying her on the bed, Creed moved to her feet and carefully pulled off her sneakers, then the soft cotton socks. Undressing her became one of the most sensual chores he had ever undertaken.

She arched to him as he pulled her jeans from her body. Free of those, she began to fumble with the buttons of her sweater.

He watched. Watched those graceful fingers release each button as he hurriedly tore his own clothes from his body, carefully laying a condom aside.

This would be agony. Agony and ecstasy. It would be the heights of rapture, and it would be the further depths of pain if what he’d heard was true.

And it would be worth it.

It would be worth every second of agony to feel her clenching and coming around his dick.

As she tossed her sweater aside, Creed tossed aside his own shirt.

Naked, so fucking hard each pulse of blood pounding through his cock was a pleasure so intense it was painful.

Sitting up in the bed, her hair falling around her face in sunlit and shadowed blonde waves, she looked like a damned temptress come to haunt his fantasies.

That was exactly what she was. His fantasy. That nameless woman he had dreamt of for years before Jonas had sent him to the Engalls estate.

She was his mate.

And she was reaching for him.

SIX

Arousal, that hunger, unsated desire, the desperate longings and pulse-pounding aches. It was the need for touch, the body so hypersensitive, each nerve ending rising in attention as pleasure became the focal point of reality.

It was also the need to touch, though.

Rising to her knees, she flattened her palms against the hard muscles of his abdomen, feeling them flex in response to her touch, heated, alive. At first glance, the hard, bronzed flesh seemed completely free of male hair. But beneath her sensitive hands, she felt the ultrasoft down, almost like a pelt, smooth, warm, invisible to the eye, but detectable to the skin.

Resting on her knees, the object of twelve months’ obsession right before her eyes, completely naked, completely aroused, the hard length of his cock jutting forward, she couldn’t help but compare it to her fantasies.

And the fantasies paled in comparison.

Nothing could have prepared her for the highly conditioned, fully aroused, steel-hard body of a male Breed in his prime.

Her fingers curled against the flexing abs, nails rasping against his flesh as she felt his muscles harden further beneath her touch. The head of his cock was sheened with moisture, engorged and flushed dark with extreme arousal.

Dragging her nails down his abs, she gloried in the hard male groan that met the caress as well as the visible throbbing in the heavy veins of the powerful, thick shaft.

As her hands moved down, caressing, stroking to his thighs, his fingers buried in her hair. Blunt male nails scraped across her scalp, sending trails of exquisite sensation tearing down her spine.

She needed to touch him, to taste him, to experience every sensual pleasure to be had in his arms. Every sensual, erotic touch, taste, and sound.

Her head lowered, her lips moving to his chest, her tongue licking over a hard, flat male nipple as she heard the smothered groan vibrate in his chest.

Part moan, part growl, the sound wrapped around her senses, stoked the sensations rising inside her as her teeth gripped the disk and she allowed her tongue to worry it with sharp little flicks.

The taste of male desire and a hint of cinnamon hit her senses hard and burned through her veins. Between her thighs, her clit throbbed and ached, the need for touch riding her like a fever as her hands moved to his heavy, muscled legs.

She felt as though she were growing drunk, intoxicated on the sheer wicked excitement. Fascination had followed her since the day she had met him, fantasy flowing through her mind as she fought to bring herself to relief when the need for his touch, his kiss, had grown out of control.

And now, he was here. So obviously aroused, his hands in her hair, the pads of his fingers rubbing against her scalp as she began to lick her way down his torso.

She had never touched a man as she was now touching Creed, with such freedom. There had always been hesitation, a sense of something just not quite right. The two men she had been with before had each been a disappointment, making her fear she would never realize the pleasure she sensed could be had in a man’s touch.

In this man’s touch.

In a Breed’s arms.

A moan tore from her throat.

Her Breed. The human species that had been a fascination for her since the day they had revealed themselves, and tonight, she would claim one for her own.

Her lips moved down his abdomen, her tongue licked, stroked, until she came to the brutally hard length of his heavy cock.

One hand curved around the base of it, the feel of the heavy pulse beneath sending the blood crashing through her veins. Pulling her head back, she moved to lick, to taste the engorged head when she suddenly found herself pushed back to the bed, and a second later, rolled to her stomach as Creed came behind her.

“Oh God, Creed,” she cried out, her back arching as his arm curved beneath her hips, jerking them up and back until he pulled her to her knees.

“Stay still.” Hard legs gripped her thighs as she felt him moving behind her, one hand smoothing over the curve of her rear. “Just like that, Kita. So sweet and ready for me. Trusting me. Do you trust me, sweetheart?”

Did she trust him?

Only with her life.

“I trust you,” she cried out as his finger eased between her thighs, pressing against the entrance to her pussy, easing inside as the calloused tip rasped against oversensitive nerve endings.

It was a fury of hunger. A craving. A need she didn’t know how to bear as her hips jerked back, desperate for more.

“I need you,” she demanded, her voice ragged now. “Please, Creed. Please need me.”

She hadn’t meant to sound so needy, so aching. She hadn’t meant to beg, but the yearning inside her refused to remain silent. She had waited too long for this, waited too long for him. God, he had to ache just as deeply for her.

“I need you more than you know, Kita.” He came over her, his lips pressing against her shoulder, the heat of him like a fire at her back as she felt the thick width of his cock slide along the slick folds of her pussy.

The pulsing flesh raked across her engorged clit, sent fire and ice rushing through her body as pleasure exploded at the back of her skull and sizzled through her brain.

With trembling fingers, she pushed her hand between her thighs, gripping the hard strength of his cock as the sound of his harsh growl rumbled at her back.

Her fingers stroked the length, lubricated by the heavy juices that eased from her pussy.

The muscles of her vagina convulsed as her womb tightened. His cock throbbed in her hand, and the need to have him inside her was like a fever she couldn’t bear any longer.

A distant part of her realized that somehow, as he’d paused behind her, he’d donned a condom. For a second, confusion filled her mind. It was so rare for a Breed to be able to impregnate a woman. They were genetically coded against it. A few had defied that rule, but only a very few.

Then he was shifting, moving, following her grip as she tucked the thick head of his erection against the clenched, snug entrance to her body.

“I need you,” she whispered, desperate for him now. “Oh God, Creed, I need you so desperately.”

“Then take me, Kita,” he groaned, his lips moving to her ear, a warm breath of air stroking over the tender shell a second before his rough cheek caressed it. “Take me how you need me, baby. Every inch.”

Every inch. Every steel-hard inch pulsing against her pussy as she began to press backward, feeling the flared head slowly part the tender opening.

She was shaking, hard tremors racing through her body as she felt the entrance stretching, burning as she backed into his cock. Her head fell to the bed, pressing into the pillows, her fingers clenching into the blankets beneath her as she pushed back. Each thick, throbbing inch easing inside her made her feel taken, almost to the point of bruising, pleasure and pain combining until she was whimpering, smothered cries leaving her lips as he began to fill her.

“Kita,” the growling whisper at her ear had her jerking, spiking pleasure raking through her body as the stretching burn amplified every touch of his chest against her back, his thighs gripping hers, his cock easing inside her. “Take me sweetheart. All of me. Push back, love. Fill yourself with me.”

Her teeth clenched as her hips jerked back, burying him deeper inside her with a searing thrust.

Panting, crying out from the sensations as her body struggled to accept the iron erection pressing inside her, Kita fought to just breathe. To make sense of the clenching, searing sensations striking from her pussy to her womb only to echo with eruptions of near ecstasy throughout the rest of her body.

“More,” she gasped, struggling to ease back. “Creed, please . . .”

“Take more of me, baby.” It sounded as though he were forcing the words between his teeth, and she felt the warmth of his perspiration in a heated drop along her shoulder. “Take what you want, Kita. It’s all yours, baby. As much as you want.”

She wanted it all. She wanted to burn inside and out. She wanted to be taken by him, possessed, and flying through rapture as the agonizing pleasure building inside her released.

She wanted to see the sun, the flames she could feel licking at her flesh.

And she wanted his kiss. She could almost taste it. Cinnamon and a wicked brew of a storm infused with the ocean. Pure male. Pure iron-hard heat forging through her.

“Creed.” She moaned his name again as her forehead dug into the pillow before her neck arched, pulling it back to rest against his shoulder as he braced himself behind her. “Fuck me. Please, I can’t do it alone.” She was to the point of sobbing now, the hunger tearing at her, building through her until she couldn’t fight it. “Take me, Creed. Make me belong to you.”

As though that request were all he needed, a savage growl sounded behind her as he jerked back, rising to his knees, his hands gripping her hips, and he forged, surged inside her to the hilt, burying his cock full length and more. She jerked at the hard entrance and shuddered, shook as her senses threatened to detonate at the extremity of the sensations.

There was no way to process it. No way to acclimate to the feel of him fully imbedded inside her before he began moving. Pulling back, the flared crest raking, rasping over exposed nerve endings before he was suddenly shafting forward once again and sending her reeling with the ecstatic preliminary explosions of release.

Except, release didn’t come.

A scream tore from her throat as he jerked back again, a second later thrusting forward, fucking her with a driving rhythm she couldn’t resist and had no intention of fighting. She could only accept. Only hold on for the ride as she felt the last threads of reality dissolve beneath the pleasure tearing through her.

The sound of his thighs slapping against hers, the feel of his perspiration against her back, the sound of his growls in the air, and the feel of the steely length of his cock taking her, possessing her. Oh God, he was owning her.

He was taking her outside herself with the excruciating pleasure and delightful agony. Blending sensations through her body, forcing them to melt together as his cock tunneled inside her, over and over again. It stroked, caressed hidden nerves endings she hadn’t known her body possessed, and left her screaming, begging for release.

Each driving stroke was another painful pleasure, another step closer to the brilliant flames she could sense threatening to overtake her.

He was pushing her toward a plane she had never known. A world where nothing existed but sensation, but the feel of his erection shafting, fucking inside her. There was nothing but sensation upon sensation, her clit swelling to a desperate point, her nipples burning as they rubbed against the sheet, her pussy blazing with pleasure.

She was riding a high she couldn’t have known existed, and behind her, she could feel Creed tensing, feel the brutal sensations tightening through her, her womb clenching, her pussy gripping him tighter, milking his cock, fighting to hold him inside her, to achieve that final, all-consuming stroke that would throw her headlong into an abyss of sheer rapture.

It was there.

So close.

It was burning around her, filling her senses, drawing her closer. He fucked her harder, faster, his hands tightening on her hips until finally, with a scream of suddenly ecstatic fear, she felt it possess her.

Brutal, searing explosions began erupting through her body. Kita felt herself jerk beneath him, heard her strangled scream as her nails clawed at the blankets beneath her.

Her pussy throbbed, tightened, quivered with the sudden upheaval tearing through it. She heard him give a desperate, animalistic growl before burying his cock deep and hard inside her just as that final blaze of ecstasy tore through her mind.

She was aware of nothing but the sharp, all-consuming pleasure and Creed’s arms surrounding her. Knew nothing but the brutal, enveloping heat that radiated in a conflagration of building explosions that finally left her shuddering, limp in his arms as they both collapsed to the bed.

It was exhausting.

It drained her to the point that she wondered if she would ever have the strength or the will to pull herself from him. It bound her to him, even more so than she’d realized she already was.

It was the reason she had run.

This was the reason she had made that desperate, racing escape from her father’s home.

Not just because her father had betrayed her.

Not just because she didn’t know if she could trust him any longer.

Because she hadn’t known if she could trust herself. If she could keep from begging, just as she had ended up begging, for this.

For Creed Raines to tear through her senses, to burn past her reservations, and to steal the heart she knew, in that instant, she had saved for him.

SEVEN

Creed was in hell. Agony. His cock was so damned hard it felt as though it would split open. His balls were drawn beneath the heavy length of his shaft, and he swore his blood was on fire as it pumped through his body.

His release had drained him dry at first, rocking through his body and filling the condom. The lack of sensation against the underside, where the mating barb should have emerged, had kept that final release from triggering, though.

He knew the basics of mating heat. He and several other covert enforcers had been given only the sketchiest information just before leaving Sanctuary a year before.

He’d known, though, instinctually, of the mating heat; all Breeds did. It was the scent the mates shared, the sense of bonding that was a scent all its own. And the love.

The animal inside Creed had acknowledged it, and a part of him had longed for it since the first day he’d sensed it just after he’d arrived at Sanctuary.

The labs he’d been in hadn’t been as monstrous as most. Once rescues had begun, the scientists, soldiers, and trainers there had worked with the Breeds to see to their safe release and transport to Sanctuary.

Not all the labs involved with the Genetics Council had subscribed to their methods of cruelty.

Lying in the bed with his own mate, Creed had come to understand why the mated Breeds he’d talked to had told him it was something that couldn’t be denied.

The urge to mark her, to bite her delicate skin just above her shoulder and allow the mating hormone into her system there, the need to kiss her, to spill inside her, it was all part of the bonding and all a part of the overwhelming heat tearing through his senses now.

The agony was nothing compared to the sense of satisfaction and completion, though, as he sat, fully dressed, in the sheltered backyard of the small house Kita owned, holding her against him.

The overlarge lounger was thickly padded and wide enough to allow for both his much larger body and that of the woman stretched out between his spread thighs, her back against his chest, the long waves of her sunlit dark blonde hair cascading over his arm.

They had been there for hours, simply watching the sun rise until it was now beginning to warm the mountains that surrounded them and peek its golden trails of light into the shadowed grotto she’d created for a back deck.

“When did you buy the house?” he asked as she snuggled closer, the quilt he’d wrapped around her earlier falling off one bare shoulder before he tucked it back.

She was nice and warm, content and languorous as she lay against him.

“A few years ago.” She sighed. “It took forever to figure out how to hide the purchase. My name isn’t associated with it anywhere other than a paper signed between myself and a lawyer in Charleston. That seemed the simplest way.”

“Why did you need it?”

She was right. Despite the thorough investigation the Breeds had done on her, this property hadn’t come to light. They’d checked every friend, schoolmate, and even enemies she had, prying into every nook and cranny of her life to find even the smallest detail about her. And still, this had escaped them.

“I don’t know why it was so important at the time.” The note of bemusement in her voice couldn’t be hidden, nor could the fact that now she wondered if she had somehow sensed what was coming.

The fact was, Creed was gaining a sense that Kita had known for years that her father was involved in something he shouldn’t have been. Likely, from the first release of the news that the Breeds existed, Kita had been picking up on her father’s subversion.

She was an intuitive little thing, there was no doubt. He imagined that once she got to know him well, there would be very little he could pull off without her sensing it.

“Tell me about you instead,” she demanded softly. “All we’ve talked about the last four days has been me. I want to know more about you.”

“Like what?” He stared into the fenced backyard wishing he could put off any questions about himself. He wouldn’t lie to her, but he knew, at times, the truth was tricky.

“Like, what’s it like at Sanctuary?” She tilted her head back against his arm as she shifted around to stare up at him. “I’ve read it’s like an armed camp, and then reports it’s one big orgy.” She gave a low, light laugh. “Beth is certain it’s the orgy. Though, if it is, she just lost her bet with Stacey.”

Stacey was one of the girlfriends that came to the house often. A redheaded spitfire with more courage than good sense sometimes. Beth, on the other hand, was normally practical, though easygoing.

“And what does Stacey say it is?” he asked.

The amusement slowly filtered from her eyes. “An armed camp,” she said sadly. “A place filled with tension and combat-ready at all times.”

It was interesting to hear the two had bet at opposite ends of their character spectrum.

“Then they both lost.” He gave her a smile he hoped would comfort the distress he saw in her gaze. It was one of the things he loved about her, he realized. Her compassion. A compassion neither her father nor her uncle possessed.

“Sanctuary is always prepared, it’s secured. We have teams of enforcers that are constantly on guard, but, for the most part, it’s more like a large community.”

“Until it’s attacked,” she guessed.

Creed gave a short nod. “Until it’s attacked. But we’re trained for this Kita. We know how to react, and we know how to fight back.”

“And those you’ve brought in who don’t know how to fight?” she asked softly. “Your wives? What do they do, Creed?”

Did she want to be a Breed wife? There was a flash of hope and concern in her gaze, as though she had given the question a lot of thought but needed more in-depth information.

“They’re protected,” he promised her. “Every Breed in Sanctuary, whether it be male or female, feline, wolf, or coyote, dedicates his life to protecting the wives and children if an attack is launched.” He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek as his thumb caressed her lower lip. “Love is something we dare never take for granted, Kita. Even those who haven’t yet felt the fire of that emotion know that they long for it. They would give their lives to ensure that a Breed mate is completely protected.”

“A mate,” she whispered. “What does it take, Creed, to be a Breed’s mate?”

She spoke against his thumb, her dark brown eyes becoming sensual, slumberous as her body softened further against him.

“Love. That’s all it takes, Kita. The only difference is, Breeds love the first time, for all time. Just as our genetic cousins do.” He was dying to kiss her. The hormone filled his mouth like a particularly spicy aphrodisiac, demanding he share. Until he kissed her, until he forced the hormone into her system, it would only grow worse.

God, if it became worse, he didn’t know if he could bear it. It was an agony now. Like a brutal flame burning in his loins, threatening his self-control.

And it wasn’t that he hadn’t had her. They’d spent the past two days fucking like minks. She’d been exhausted when he’d carried her to the porch after fixing the decaf coffee he thanked God she drank. The caffeinated brew was like an accelerant to mating heat in both males and females. He didn’t think he could bear to have anything intensify it. She wouldn’t be safe with him if it became worse.

“Just love.” Her head turned, her lips pressing to the bare flesh the unbuttoned portion of his shirt revealed. “What if your mate doesn’t love for life, Creed? If they’re human? Some humans are very fickle, you know.”

His lips quirked at the reminder. Ah yes, humans could be fickle, as could Breeds in some instances. They weren’t so different.

But the question she posed was damned tricky for him.

“There hasn’t been a problem yet,” was the only answer he could give her.

And apparently, it was the wrong one. Suspicion darkened her eyes. “Is there any truth to the tabloid stories about a mating hormone?” There was no fear in her gaze, just curiosity, suspicion.

“You know how the tabloids are, Kita,” he tried to scoff, but went no further.

Creed refused to lie to his mate.

As a covert enforcer, he was used to lying. He had to lie to maintain whatever façade was required for the job. At times, even his name changed, his eye color, his hair color. At times, he’d wondered if he even knew who he was anymore. But that was before he’d walked into Kita’s life.

“I know how they are,” she admitted softly. “And I know you. You’re avoiding my question, Creed. What are you not telling me?”

He almost smiled. As he’d said before, she was damned intuitive. And it appeared she had paid more attention to him over the past year than he would have perhaps wished.

“There are differences with the Breeds,” he finally admitted. “Things I’d prefer we discuss later.”

He felt her tense. An air of hurt descended around her as her gaze took on a wounded look.

“Later as opposed to now in what way?” She was drawing away from him and he couldn’t bear that.

The animal inside him was snarling in fury. First, he’d refused her the mating kiss more than once, then he’d sheathed his cock and prevented his body from locking inside her.

He was defying every natural instinct that his species lived and breathed for. Mating. The bonding of his life to another, the gift that would come to him only once, as far as the Breeds knew. And now, he was allowing her to distance herself, to pull away.

His arms tightened around her involuntarily, a part of his mind, his Breed senses, refusing to release her despite the fact that he knew it was best for both of them.

She stared back at him for long moments, her gaze a silent accusation.

“That’s why you haven’t kissed me again,” she finally stated knowingly. “Because it does exist, and for whatever reason you’ve decided I’m not good enough for whatever your mating is?”

His eyes widened. “Have you fucking lost your mind?” Grating, filled with frustrated surprise, the question slipped past his lips.

“Have you?” Her eyes narrowed back at him, heavy, thick lashes shadowing her cheeks as brown ire sparked back at him. “Do you think I’m so easy to manipulate and control that I wouldn’t notice you’ve not kissed me again? That despite the fact that conception only occurs with mates, you still use a condom. There are no STDs you can give me because Breeds are not susceptible to normal human diseases and viruses. Do you even fucking get a cold?” Her voice rose marginally.

She was angry. He could feel it in her, see it in the spark in her eyes.

“No, we don’t.” His head lowered until they were glaring at each other, nearly nose to nose now in a confrontation he hadn’t expected. “No colds, no STDs, no fucking flu. Anything else?”

“Plenty,” she snapped. “But as you’re suddenly refusing to answer the important questions, then I’m only wasting my time.” Her nose lifted as though she were offended by some smell. “And I do have this thing about wasting my time.”

She moved to rise from him, to leave his arms, to deny him the warmth of her, the comfort, when mating heat was like a fatal wound destroying him from the inside out.

“Then you can waste a little more of it.” Wrapping one arm around her, he lifted, turned, flipped the lever that completely lowered the back of the padded lounger before trapping her beneath his much larger body.

The chill of the fall air swirled around them as his hands gripped her wrists and pulled them above her head to clasp them with the fingers of one hand.

Straining against him, she glared back at him, frustration now anger as she attempted to drive her knee between his thighs, only to have him twist and smoothly maneuver his heavier thighs between hers, opening her to him as he snarled down at her in a warning growl.

It was a primal, desperate measure that slipped free of his control. The man and the animal trapped inside him warred, both savage in their determination to protect their mate in their way. To claim her as each felt she should be claimed.

It was the curse of any Breed. Those two halves suddenly in conflict, fighting for supremacy.

Rather than backing down in wariness, though, Kita bucked against him.

“I can’t believe you dared to snarl at me like that,” she raged furiously, her features flushing, body stiffening, and a hint of feminine arrogance defining her expression. “I’m not one of your prissy little Breed groupies to be frightened of those damned teeth, Creed Raines. Find someone else to intimidate because you’re so not getting away with attempting to intimidate me.”

His cock was on fire. It hardened further, a feat he would have considered impossible. It thickened further, his balls tighter, a lance of pure agony tearing at his mind in his need to mate her. To mark her. To claim her.

“You stubborn little minx,” he snarled down at her as she bucked against him, the soft, wet curls of her pussy pressing into his cock as his hips bore down to hold her in place. “Stay still before you get more than you even realize you’re asking for.”

“What? All of you?” She suddenly cried out. “Fuck you, Creed. You can have all of me, but all you give in return is what you think I might deserve? What little you want to allow me? You can go to hell, because I’ll be damned if I’ll accept less than what belongs to me.”

He stilled. His muscles locked in place, holding her beneath him effortlessly as surprise—fuck no, it was pure shock—had him staring down at her intently.

“Do I have all of you, Kita?” he growled back at her, knowing he should be wary of the sudden primal quality in his voice. “Because it will require your very soul, Kita, to accept the animal you’re tempting.”

She snorted at that, censure gleaming her eyes. “You’re listening to your own Breed press too closely, Creed. You’re a man. A man with a few added qualities and a hell of a lot more primal arrogance, but you still bleed. You still hurt and hope.” Tears suddenly filled her eyes. “You can still love, can’t you?”

And there was the crux of Kita’s fears. Staring back at her, Creed sensed, scented, felt all the emotions tearing through her for the first time. As though she had finally allowed a barrier of some sort between her and the world, between her and Creed, to slide open.

Kita loved.

She loved her father, and he wasn’t the hero she wanted to see him as. But still, she loved him, even though Creed knew there were times she wondered whether her father returned her love.

She loved the sister that had disowned her family. She loved the mother she had lost and the friends that had deserted her when the press had revealed her father’s duplicity against the Breeds.

And he knew now, she loved him.

“I love you, Kita.” And he was damning her in the same sentence. Because he couldn’t tell her what his soul held without giving her the truth, all of the truth, and all of the creature he truly was.

Part man, a primal animal, a creature that burned for her, that hurt clear to his spirit to give her the mating that would always mark her as his.

His.

She belonged to him, the same as he belonged to her.

Nature was gifting him with a strength far greater than the superb male body he had been created to have. She had given him more than the advanced instincts man had coded into his genetics. She was giving him the woman who would stoke the fires to fight, to protect. A woman who would ease the horrors of battle, who would soothe the desperation when darkness strengthened it.

Yet, at the same time, she was giving him his greatest weakness as well. A weakness that would pull him from covert duty to stay at her side. A weakness that would make him fear for the first time in his life. Creed had something far more important to fear than death. Now, fear of death would be a meager second to the fear of losing her.

Breeds didn’t just mate for life. Couples mated for life. If he lost her, if she lost him, life would become a horrible, bleak existence he never wanted to face.

“Do you love me, Creed?” A small tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “If you love me, then you won’t hide from me. You’ll give me who you are, the same as I give it to you. Isn’t that real love? You can’t love me if you’re willing to take from me the parts of you that make you a Breed.”

He swallowed tightly. “And if those parts of me change you somehow?” he whispered, his teeth clenching as the demand to kiss her, to mate her, ripped at his senses, tearing at the control he was fighting so desperately to hold on to. “If I fear those changes will change that love to hate?”

She licked her lips. Soft, silken, a pink temptation he was dying to taste, her tongue licked over her lips. “Love isn’t like that,” she whispered roughly, the movement of her hips suddenly far more than an attempt to escape. “If even part of the tabloid stories are true, Creed, then it seems to me you’ll only complete me.” For a second, her eyes flickered with shadowed pain. “You have all of me now. Shouldn’t I have the same from you?”

Complete her? He remembered when he had first come to the Engalls estate, hearing her confide to her friend Beth that she felt incomplete. That she felt as though a part of her were detached, distant, unable to reach out and find what it was she could feel missing.

He knew she was his mate. Knew she was his life. But he also knew his fear of turning that love to hate.

God knew, she was the part of his life that had been missing until the day he stared into the pure, sweet, chocolate depths of her gaze. From that moment, he had centered his entire being on drawing her to him, fascinating her, teasing her, encouraging the most minute emotional and sensual responses short of actually allowing her to touch him.

Because he knew once he touched her, holding back would be hell.

And he was in hell.

“Kiss me, Creed.” She strained against him, tempting him, destroying him. “Unless you don’t really want me?” For a second, fear flickered in her gaze.

“Not want you?” he groaned. “Kita. God. Sweetheart. For the past year, I’ve lived for you.”

EIGHT

The kiss, when it came, she hadn’t believed would be as good as the first. Surely it couldn’t have been as good as she remembered the first.

But it was better.

If possible, it was hotter, wilder, more all-consuming than any kiss before it, even that first kiss he had given her four days before.

His lips parted hers, his tongue stroking inside, licking at hers, tempting her to lick back, to play, to tease in a sensual, wicked dance that combined lips and tongues in a manner far more wickedly erotic than she’d ever expected a kiss could be. So erotic it seriously should have been illegal.

Creed didn’t just kiss her. He made love to her mouth.

His lips captured hers, pleasured them with sipping, licking kisses that spread a fire through her senses she couldn’t control—didn’t want to control.

He held her wrists easily above her head, restraining her gently as his free hand gripped her hips, holding her to him as his own hips shifted against the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs. Clasping his body with her knees, arching to him, rising against him, Kita felt the same brilliant conflagration exploding through her.

Cinnamon and sweet spice filled her taste buds. The fragrance, the flavor infused her senses, lending an additional sensuality to the caress.

Naked beneath him, vulnerable and aching, Kita hadn’t known a moment’s fear in his embrace. Each touch was delivered for her pleasure only. Bestowed with the greatest of care as the thin material of his shirt skimmed the tight buds of her nipples.

She wanted. She wanted him as she had never wanted anything in her life. The desperation traveling through her body was primal, instinctive. It was like a hunger she couldn’t stop from raging through her system.

When his lips pulled from hers, Kita had to admit she well understood why he had attempted to warn her that it may be something she didn’t want.

She could feel an almost unnatural heat rising inside her, a furious demand resonating throughout her body, crying out for more, for more than his kiss, more than the feel of his denim-covered cock against her pussy. She wanted all of him. His full possession. That blinding, overwhelming fullness that tore her past the bonds of reality and threw her into a shimmering world of release and ultimate satisfaction.

The heat, the demand, the need, was amplified. It wasn’t unnatural. It was sharper, the sensations clearer, cleaner. It was like having a veil of restraint torn away, any fear, uncertainties, or natural hesitancies washed from the senses as pure hunger overtook it.

That was mating heat.

A sense of wonder rose inside her as his lips pulled from hers and traveled along her jaw, leaving the taste of him against her tongue, tempting her.

But it was only seconds later he returned.

Her lashes drifted as he paused above her, his breathing harsh, rapid. Dark gray eyes were nearly black, his lips swollen, cheeks flushed a dark brick red as his gaze centered on her lips.

She licked them slowly, teasingly.

“Let me taste you again, Creed.” She strained against the hold he had on her. “Kiss me again. Do you know I dreamed of your kiss?”

“The perfect kiss,” he answered.

Her eyes widened, lips parting to drag in more air, to ease the sudden restriction in her chest, the emotion, the arousal beating through her heart.

The perfect kiss.

That was what she had searched for. That kiss that fed the need, the arousal. That could soothe or could burn. That could bring ease or bring hunger.

“Creed’s kiss.” Her lips trembled, emotion nearly overwhelming her. “One more.”

He shook his head slowly. “Not one more, Kita. A lifetime more.”

This time, as his lips moved over hers, parted them, his tongue stroking inside, Kita took what she wanted. His taste. The pleasure to be found, the heat and the mark of the lion she’d believed could be no more than a rumor.

Her teeth nipped at his tongue; her tongue stroked over it. She suckled at each penetration of her mouth, glorying in the growl that rumbled in his chest each time the taste of him intensified against her tongue.

His kiss wasn’t all he used to destroy her senses, though.

As one hand held her hands above her head, the other stroked her body. Caressing up her side, cupping her breast, his fingers toying with a nipple as she arched closer and strained to keep contact with his lips.

With the perfect kiss.

Their moans filled the air, swirling around their senses as heated flames licked at Kita’s body.

It was exquisite. It was like being immersed in a world of pure sensuality and white hot pleasure. It whipped through her veins, tightened through her body, and had her gripping his hips with her knees as her body writhed against him.

The heated length of his cock throbbed beneath the denim, pressing into her clit as she rubbed against it, tempting him, on the edge of begging him for the relief she was becoming desperate for.

He tore his lips from hers, gasping for breath, perspiration dotting his brow, a rivulet running from his shoulder as she lifted her head to catch it with her tongue.

The taste of male arousal and heated hunger exploded in her mouth. She moaned, her eyelids almost too heavy to keep open while her body vibrated with a languorous desperation she couldn’t control.

“I want to touch you,” she moaned as his fingers cupped her breast, lifted it, and his head descended to the hard tip of her nipple.

His tongue met the tight, hard bud first. Like a lash of pure electric sensation whipping over it, as she arched in a quick, reflexive jerk.

“Creed. Suck it,” she demanded, suddenly so hungry for the feel of his mouth covering her that she couldn’t bear it. “Oh God, Creed. I need your mouth . . .”

A cry tore from her lips as his lips surrounded it. Blistering, wicked. He sucked the bundle of nerve endings into his mouth, drawing it, his cheeks hollowing as his lashes lifted to stare back at her.

His tongue lashed at the tender tip, his teeth gripped. He worried the tiny point, sucked it, loved it until she was arching and begging, crying out for more as he growled above her.

He moved to the other, still holding her wrists above her head as he cupped the mound with his free hand and bent his head to it. He licked around the tip, licked over it. He sucked it inside, sending brutal slashes of pleasure racing from her nipple to her clit, clenching her womb and spilling heated moisture from between her thighs.

With another hard growl, a last firm lick, his head lifted once again, his gaze intent, savagely predatory as that adventurous free hand slid down her stomach.

“I can smell your sweet juices,” he whispered as his fingers rasped over the tender flesh of her stomach. “I want to lick your pussy, baby. I’m going to eat you until all you can do is come for me. Until every thrust of my tongue up your tight pussy has you screaming, Kita. Begging for more.”

She was shaking, watching in fascination as he began to lick a path of fire down her body, releasing her wrists, though she barely realized it, spreading her thighs wide and finally kneeling on the wood deck beneath the edge of the lounger.

The fingers of one hand smoothed through the slick folds as Kita whimpered in rising excitement.

“I dreamed of tasting you. Of kissing you here. Of feeling your tight little pussy rippling around my tongue, your clit swelling against it. That’s what I’m going to have, Kita. I’m going to feel your pussy coming around my tongue.”

His palms flattened on her thighs, pressing them farther apart as his head lowered, his heated breath caressing the intimate flesh a second before his tongue swiped through the saturated slit.

Kita had to watch. She couldn’t help but watch. Watch as he devoured her pussy, licked around her clit, then slowly, oh so very slowly, sucked the swollen, tortured little knot of nerves into his mouth.

Kita tried to scream. Her upper body jerked, nearly rising from the lounger before his palm pressed against her upper stomach and pushed her back to the thick pad. Her hips arched, her feet sliding from the edge of the reclining chaise and lifting closer, pushing her clit further against him.

His tongue circled the swollen bud with flickering licks that had flashes of ecstasy nearly exploding inside her. His fingers parted the folds, two slipping inside her, rubbing, stroking in small thrusts until he was buried inside her and she swore she was dying from the pleasure.

Her hands gripped the pad of the chair above her. Her eyes closed, too heavy to remain open, but the sensations so much sharper, hotter from the lack of sight.

His fingers stretched the supersensitive tissue of her pussy. He thrust inside her, pulling back and pushing inside as he fucked her in controlled, easy penetrations that had her gasping from the pleasure.

His tongue tormented her clit. His lips closed around it, his mouth drew on it. She could feel sizzling pulses of electric sensation beginning to build inside her. Like sparks of lightning shattering the sky, each stroke, each thrust, each lick sent sparks of sensation tearing through her body.

It was so close. She could feel it. It was burning, tightening in her womb. The muscles of her vagina clamped down on his fingers as they pushed past with rasping thrusts. The hold his lips had on her clit was wicked, fiery, pulling each sensation through her clit before sending it racing hotter, harder through every nerve ending of her body.

She could hear herself calling out his name, begging. Her hips lifted and fell, grinding against his lips as she felt rapture continuing to build inside her.

She’d never known sensations like this. She’d always sensed they were there. Always sensed that the pleasure could be so much more, that the perfect kiss, the perfect touch, awaited her.

She had known Creed was there, somewhere. Sensed him. Felt him. Known life held so much more if she could only find it.

And she had found him. Or had he found her? But he was here now, his tongue lashing at the nerve-rich nubbin of her clit as his fingers pierced her pussy, fucking it with such slow, easy strokes that she could feel the heightened sensations building ever stronger.

Pleasure lashed at her.

Like bolts of quick-fire electricity zapping through her clitoris, her pussy, her womb, clenching, spasming through her until finally, with a desperate cry of broken control, she felt every nerve ending in her body rupture.

The orgasm exploded through her system in a rush of such ecstasy, such soul-binding pleasure, she felt as though a part of herself had flown free, straight into Creed’s soul.

Her eyes flew open, her lips parting in a soundless scream as he gave a harsh groan, pulled his fingers out of her, and a second later pressed the thick crest of his cock against the tender, convulsing entrance to her cunt and gave a hard, heavy thrust.

Her feet dug into the wood of the deck, her hips arching from the padded lounge to force the thick flesh deeper, harder. The additional rush of sensation was like throwing gasoline to an already raging flame burning out of control, exploding into the night.

Opening her eyes, her gaze moved, mesmerized, to where he was working the hard stalk of his cock inside her body. The dark flesh, heavily veined and throbbing, shimmered with her juices as he pulled back.

Penetrating again, moving in further with the next thrust, he parted the folds, spreading her, finding nerve endings she was certain she hadn’t felt the times he had used the condom.

He seemed harder, thicker, hotter. Almost bruising in its power and hardness, the engorged shaft forged inside as he straddled the lounge chair, his hands gripping her hips, her thighs lying over his, hips arched.

Her cunt still flexed and gripped in echoes of the orgasm she had barely survived and still, she could feel it building again. It was rising inside her with each thrust, with each burning, stretching penetration until with a final, hard stroke he was buried to the hilt.

Kita lifted her gaze.

He was throbbing inside her, so thick, so heavy she felt overfilled, overly possessed. Her inner flesh flexed and spasmed around the intruder, stroking it, milking it as she fought to catch her breath.

“When it happens,” he said, his voice guttural, “when I come, love, don’t be frightened.” His chest was moving with harsh breaths, the effort to maintain his control obvious.

Kita shook her head. She had no idea what he was talking about. She had no intention of being frightened.

“Fuck me, Creed,” she finally gasped when he didn’t move. “Don’t talk me to death.”

His lashes drifted over his gaze for a moment. When they opened, his eyes had a dark, hungry look. Like a predator with its prey, determined now to enjoy every moment with it.

“Fuck you?” He moved back slow and easy as her back arched, her hands jerking from the cushion above her to latch on to the wrists holding her hips. “Oh, Kita, I’ve dreamed of showing you exactly how I can fuck you.”

The next hard, blinding thrust set the pace. Her cries filled the sheltered deck and yard as her body strained at the hard slamming thrusts. The rasp of his cock over the nerve-laden inner flesh was agony and ecstasy.

She was being thrown into a world of pure sensation, and there was no escaping. She could feel every minute nerve ending as his cock burned across her inner flesh in a long, fierce stroke. Shafting inside her with powerful thrusts, he gripped her hips, holding her in place, forcing her to endure the brutal pleasure of it.

Her pussy gripped him, milked him. As each sensation tore across the other, she finally felt herself exploding, melting around him even as her cunt locked down on his shuttling cock and her release began to spill around the heavy length screwing inside her, making her wonder if she would ever recover her sanity.

Then, oh God. Her eyes jerked open as she felt it.

In that final thrust, he buried deep, gave a harsh groan, and she felt the heavy length of an added erection suddenly emerging from his cock, pressing inside her, fluttering with firm little strokes against that secret, hidden bundle of nerves just beneath her clit.

She died in his arms. There was no chance for fear to emerge. There was room for nothing but a rapture that stole each particle of her sanity and left her arched tight, her body straining, her gaze locked on his face.

His features were savage, a grimace of male ecstasy. His head was thrown back, his corded neck, his straining biceps, his abdomen flexing spasmodically as she felt each eruption of his semen blasting inside her. Branding her. Searing that delicate, so sensitive little area and sending her into another convulsive, shuddering orgasm that strung her tight, left her gasping and shuddering before she collapsed against the cushions as Creed came over her.

With small, furious beats, his cock went on releasing inside her as the hardened little extension continued to stimulate that aching bud, drawing sensation, forcing tiny explosions of pleasure through her even when she knew she was too exhausted to give more.

Until finally, Creed collapsed on top of her, sweating, his body heaving for breath. Limp with exhaustion, he managed to pull them both to their sides while remaining locked inside her.

Not that he had a choice, she realized distantly. He was literally locked inside her, the animalistic feline barb continuing to throb and jerk at intervals, drawing shattered cries from her lips.

Long, long minutes later, it finally began to ease, and at last, after what felt like eons, the searing little pulses of the extension stopped, allowing her body to settle into a satiation she knew couldn’t be entirely natural.

Physically, emotionally, for the first time in her life, Kita felt at peace.

NINE

How much time had passed, Creed wasn’t certain. His first indication of danger, though, was the hollow vibration of the small satellite flip phone he carried in the front pocket of his jeans.

He was moving immediately. Pulling himself from his exhausted mate, he jerked his jeans to his hips and gave a quick jerk to the zipper before quickly wrapping the blanket over Kita’s body. Her eyes jerked open in surprise.

“Creed?”

There was fear in her eyes; he saw it. But after that first shocked exclamation of his name, she was moving. Even before he could help her from the chaise, she was on her feet and rather than asking questions, following him quickly into the house.

“We have trouble,” he growled as he pulled her into the bedroom. “Hurry and dress. Jeans and sneakers.” He was throwing jeans, a T-shirt, and a warm sweater from the closet as she pulled panties and socks from a dresser.

She didn’t bother searching for a bra, he noticed. It wasn’t required to survive.

She was dressed as he finished locating the small black leather weapons bag he had hidden in the back of her closet. Jerking it open, he quickly strapped on a handgun at his side and ankle, then within seconds had the powerful automatic rifle he carried with him, assembled and ready to fire.

Who the hell thought they could sneak up on him like this? In broad daylight?

It was either a moron or a man or Breed who thought he was better, smarter, and brighter than a lion Breed covert enforcer.

There was no mistaking the alarm still vibrating at his waist, though, a clear indication that someone was coming into the rear of the property Kita owned.

Another enforcer would have recognized the signs as well as the electronic traps laid and announced his presence. Jonas already suspected Kita was Creed’s mate; he’d surely know better than to try such a stunt. Especially on Creed.

After pulling on a lightweight advanced-design jacket, Creed grabbed the extra one he carried with him and threw it to Kita with an order to put it on. He then slung the heavy leather pack of ammo over his back and the strap of the weapon over his shoulder.

Taking her hand as she jerked the jacket on, he was moving through the house toward the front door, his senses on alert, screaming in warning.

Behind him, he could sense Kita’s fear, but overlaying it was the scent of her determination and her trust.

“Who knew you were here?” It was a question he should have asked days ago, damn it.

“No one. I just ran. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going.”

Moving quickly through the silent kitchen, he threw open the door to the garage and pulled her inside. The motorcycle was their best bet, not as protected as a vehicle, but . . .

He came to a hard stop.

They were there. Their scents were neutralized, blocked, expressions hard, eyes flat and filled with danger. And standing behind them was the specter of death that had haunted the Breeds for as long as they could remember.

“Uncle Phillip?” Uncertainty and rising fear filled Kita’s voice as she stared at the much, much younger version of the uncle she had known.

Damn! Creed stared at the man, hiding his shock as he assessed how many decades the age regression had taken from Phillip Brandenmore. He looked as fit, as formidable as he had in his early forties, his face once again dark and roughly handsome, his brown eyes free of the dimness age had brought.

His dark brown hair was once again thick and sporting only a bit of gray at the temples, while his shoulders were broad, his chest muscular. As though his body hadn’t forgotten its former shape, strength, and power, and had easily returned to it.

Kita moved to slip to his side before Creed tightened his fingers on her wrist in warning.

She stilled just that fast.

He could smell her fear, though, as well as her uncertainty.

Phillip Brandenmore smiled. Perfect, straight white teeth had replaced the aged, darkened ones Creed remembered from his last visit to Sanctuary, just after Brandenmore had been captured.

The shock Kita was feeling scented the air as Creed kept a careful eye on the men flanking Brandenmore and the weapons trained on Kita and himself. He paid especially close attention to the woman on his far right, knowing when he killed her, there would be hell to pay.

“Creed Raines, lion Breed enforcer,” Brandenmore drawled as he moved in line with the mercenaries that had obviously broken him out of Sanctuary’s cells. “Breed, you have balls to think you can kidnap my niece, fuck her, and not pay for it. She’s too damned good for the likes of a fucking animal.” His gaze flicked to Kita, and for a second, the smallest second, Creed could have sworn something painful, something filled with regret flickered in Brandenmore’s eyes.

Could he get to his weapon in time? Could he throw Kita to the side and actually do any damage before they managed to hurt her?

His gaze went over the men once more. He shouldn’t have felt disbelief at seeing them there, but damn if he had expected this. When he stared back at the woman, the commander these men followed, he was almost brought up short again by the small pendant she wore outside her T-shirt.

His attention returned to Brandenmore.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled, his fingers tightening once more on Kita’s wrist to hold her in place.

“I came for my niece,” he snapped. “Wyatt thinks he’s so damned smart. So damned careful,” he sneered. “I heard him, just as I heard his plans to turn Kita Claire into a fucking breeder for one of his Breeds. A Breed that had managed to gain her trust.”

Kita stiffened, her harshly indrawn breath attesting to her shock, and he feared, her belief in what Brandenmore was saying or what she was seeing.

An uncle from the past, not the present. A man who now stared at her with reptilian eyes, a sneer on his lips when his attention turned to Creed.

A man whose hired guns were pointed in her direction.

KITA COULDN’T BELIEVE what she was seeing, what was happening around her. He looked like her uncle before she had even been born. This was the man who had stood so proudly in his sister’s wedding pictures, the man who had held his newborn niece, his expression gentle and filled with love.

Her uncle wasn’t this young, and it wasn’t possible to turn back time, to return to youth no matter how much one might want to.

“Who are you?” she finally whispered. “You can’t be Uncle Phillip. It’s simply not possible.”

But it was possible. She stared back at him as an odd smile tugged at his lips.

There was no warmth or compassion in this man. There was no love, no gentleness as she had always seen in his face when her mother had been alive. There was none of the grief she had seen in his face when his beloved sister had died.

“Of course it can be,” he said. “I must say, Kita Claire, I never expected this of you.” He waved his hand to Creed as a look of distaste crossed his face. “Sleeping with the enemy, child? And one of a different species? I’m very disappointed.”

Kita was terrified.

She shook her head. “I don’t know you.”

Desperation laced her voice, a plea that someone explain, rationalize, that they assure her this really wasn’t the uncle she once loved so dearly.

He clicked his tongue, a mocking sound that raked across her senses and sent fear racing through her.

“Of course you do, child.” He smiled back at her. “You just don’t want to accept it. I’ve discovered the fountain of youth. The elixir of cures.” Excitement lit his eyes. “I’ve searched for it all my life, Kita. I dreamed of finding it before your mother died. Before the cancer killed her. I could have saved her.” For a moment, fanatical rage lit his eyes. “She could be alive today, young and whole, if I had found it sooner.”

“It’s destroyed his mind, Kita,” Creed whispered softly.

“Shut up!” Phillip’s furious scream made her flinch as her breath hitched painfully, fearfully. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. My mind isn’t destroyed. Those Breed doctors are crazy themselves. I’ve tested it before!” Spittle gathered at his lips as Kita forced back her tears. “I know what I’m doing.”

His attention turned back to Kita. “You would have thanked me later if this bastard hadn’t mated you.” He flung his hand toward Creed in a gesture of fury. “Son of a bitch had to go ruin it. You could have kept your youth, Kita, without having to fuck this animal.”

Kita shook her head, terrified now.

“You haven’t told her?” Phillip suddenly became amused, calm. “Haven’t you told her, Breed, how that hormone you’ve infected her with will stop her aging? How she’ll remain young and beautiful, and you’ll remain in your prime, strong and fully able to fuck her?” he sneered the last.

“Creed?” she whispered his name.

“Later, baby, I promise.” It was only a breath of sound.

“Unfortunately, not later.” Phillip gave a happy, satisfied little sigh as Kita watched him warily.

This was a monster standing in her uncle’s skin.

“Let Kita go, Brandenmore,” Creed stated, his voice dark, held tightly in control. “We’ll deal with this, just between the two of us.”

Phillip shook his head. “Sorry, Breed, I can’t do that,” he snapped. “She chose to mate an animal, now she can choose to submit to the tests I’ll need.” He glared back at them. “I may have found the fountain of youth, but it does need a few adjustments. As mates, you can help me make those adjustments.” His gaze became harder as Kita slowly gripped Creed’s arm in terror. “Unfortunately, you won’t live past many of the experiments. But they should prove to be very helpful.”

She knew the news reports had vilified her uncle and her father for using the Breeds as research subjects. For their cruelty, the deaths they had supposedly caused, the inhuman experiments and the drugs that had nearly killed several top-level members of the Breed community.

She held on to Creed, barely able to breathe, feeling the horrible sense of unreality become reality as she realized this truly wasn’t the uncle who had spoiled her as a child, who had promised her he and her father would always protect her when they learned her mother had cancer.

Her uncle’s head tilted as he saw the understanding dawn on her face. A frown marred his brow, and for just a second she thought, maybe, she glimpsed the beloved uncle he had once been.

“Mother loved you.” Her breathing hitched, the accusation in her voice now filled with tears. “You lied to her.”

His frown deepened as anger lit his gaze. “Never once did I lie to your mother,” he gritted out. “She was like my own child. I raised her.” He thumped his chest possessively. “I protected her.”

“You swore to her you and my father would protect me,” she cried furiously. “Look at you. What would she do if she saw you right now, Uncle Phillip? She would cry.”

He had once stated nothing destroyed him more than to see his sister cry. As the words left her lips, she finally saw a flash of humanity in those cold, dead eyes.

He stared back at her, her brown irises shadowed, filled with agony as the tears she tried to hold back slipped free.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered.

“What have you done, Uncle Phillip?”

His expression twisted. “The fountain of youth, Kita.” He looked around as though searching desperately for something. “I found it. The Breeds. They hold the fountain of youth.” His gaze swung back to her, his fingers clenching at his side, his body tense now, ramrod straight, strong and young again. “You hold the fountain of youth,” he whispered, his gaze, his expression shadowed with grief. “Why, Kita? Why did you let him touch you? You can’t live without your liver, Kita. It creates . . .” He stopped.

His expression became frozen, his gaze laser sharp. “You’ll have to die, just as he will.”

“For the fountain of youth.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “You stole my uncle for his youth.” This wasn’t her uncle Phillip any longer.

Beside her, she felt Creed tense, his fingers rubbing against her wrist to get her attention. He wanted something.

Again. He was scratching out the word on her arm.

Again. She followed each curve his nail made.

“Mother loved you. Do you remember?” Having grasped Creed’s meaning, Kita said the one thing she now knew would distract her uncle. “She cried for you when she died.”

The monster who had stolen her uncle’s form swung his head away. His shoulders heaved, and then the world around her went to hell.

The lights in the garage suddenly burst, throwing them all into darkness as pieces of the fluorescent bulbs rained down on them.

Creed swung her around, pushed her beneath an old worktable she had never cleared out of the area, and suddenly, he was gone.

Laser fire and gunfire began ricocheting around her, blasting into walls as screams filled her senses. She knew that, if she survived, they would echo in her nightmares.

She couldn’t see anything through the flashes of light. She had no idea where anyone was, who they were, or if Creed was even still alive.

“You bitch!”

Kita screamed as the table toppled over and a flash of light exploded through the room, revealing her uncle, his expression demonic, his eyes burning red, a second before everything went dark again.

TEN

Her father had saved her life. He just may have killed his brother-in-law.

Kita sat in the corner of the garage as Breed enforcers swarmed around the area, each consulting with Jonas Wyatt. Next to him stood the woman who had betrayed her uncle. Diane Broen. A mercenary her uncle had hired, but who, Kita learned, had already given her loyalty and the loyalty of her team to Jonas Wyatt.

Horace Engalls sat on an upended wooden box, his face in his hands, mourning the man who had betrayed them all.

When her uncle had disappeared, despite rumors of his death, Horace and Kita had assumed the Breeds had captured him. They had been right. He had been imprisoned in Virginia as the Breed scientists attempted to learn how he created the serum that began turning back his age. A serum he had injected into an infant child.

Kita was still in shock. Her uncle, her loving, doting uncle had done something that could potentially destroy an infant? He had let a baby go hungry. He had let her lie in her own waste without changing her diaper. He had attempted to kill her when he’d seen he couldn’t escape with her.

For what?

For the fountain of youth. Because he believed Amber’s reaction to the drug would answer the question of why the drug was killing him. Unfortunately, if it was going to answer anything, it wasn’t doing so yet. Amber’s body was only showing minute anomalies. Anomalies Kita hadn’t yet been given details on.

“Kita.” Behind her, Creed still held her.

He had caught her as her uncle fell, his blood spattering from a single gunshot wound to the shoulder, low, perhaps too close to his chest, inflicted by her father.

Her father had also been the reason the lights had blown.

As her uncle confronted Kita and Creed, Horace Engalls had done what he had always done best: he tinkered. This time, with the electric generator that fed the fluorescent lights in the garage.

As the lights went out, he had rushed in just in time to save Kita from the injection her uncle had been preparing to shove into her arm.

The one that would have destroyed her as it had destroyed him.

“I’m okay,” she finally answered him.

The answers hadn’t come quickly.

Kita felt as though they had been there for hours.

When the lights had been restored, Jonas Wyatt, a half dozen Breeds, Diane Broen, and the mercenary working with her were the only ones still standing.

Phillip Brandenmore and the other three mercenaries he had hired were dead.

“You’re not okay.” He was holding her against his chest, his hand at her head, and she was still crying.

Not as hard as she had been, but the tears didn’t want to stop.

“Creed, I need your weapon.” Diane loped over to them, a delicate hand extending, palm out, revealing a slash of scars emphasized by the blood on her hand. “Once the authorities arrive we don’t want to blow your cover.”

Creed handed it over as Kita lifted her gaze and saw the compassion in the other woman’s expression.

Diane tucked the weapon into the back of her jeans, then hesitated before slowly hunching down in front of Kita. “Nightmares begin like this,” Diane said softly, glancing up at Creed, then back to Kita. “Don’t blame yourself, Ms. Engalls, and they won’t be near as bad.”

Kita could only shake her head as the other woman stood again and walked toward Jonas.

“Come on. Dealing with the authorities isn’t something I’m in the mood for.” Creed didn’t give her a chance to answer; he picked her up in his arms and before she knew it, she knew she was holding on to him like the lifeline she needed, burying her face against his neck.

Minutes later, he sat down on the bed, his hand stroking her hair.

“I love you, Kita,” he whispered. “I loved you before that first month was out, and I love you even more now. Give us a chance to work through this.”

She shook her head.

“Don’t make me beg.” His voice was dark, tortured.

Lifting her head, she stared at him. “You don’t have to beg, Creed,” she whispered tearfully. “If you left me now, I don’t know if I could handle it. Nothing seems real to me anymore except you. You are the only thing in my life in the past year that hasn’t changed.”

Surprise lit his gaze. “You didn’t know I was a Breed.”

“Didn’t I?” She couldn’t smile, even to comfort him. “I think a part of me did know. Subconsciously, I think I’ve always known. There’s nothing to forgive. As long as you hold me. As long as you kiss me.”

He kissed her. Gently. His lips parted hers, his tongue stroked, but in comfort rather than in heat, in love rather than in that loving lust they had shared before.

This was a kiss to warm, to comfort, to ease. It was a kiss to bind hearts and meld souls and build a foundation for the future on.

When his head lifted, she touched his jaw, and this time, she managed a smile.

“Uncle Phillip died a long time ago, didn’t he?”

It was then her father entered the room. “He died the day your mother did.”

Kita turned her head.

He stood there, his shoulders straight, the grief in his eyes and on his face as heavy as the weight she knew he carried on his shoulders.

“I was trying to protect you,” he whispered.

“Your father is the one who has been feeding the Breeds information through the Engalls and Brandenmore companies for the past several years, though he remained anonymous until he contacted Jonas a few days ago,” Creed informed her. “He knew I was a Breed, Kita. Just as he knew the horror your uncle was attempting to create.”

Her father swallowed tightly. “For your mother. For you.” He gave his head a hard shake. “I just wanted to protect you.”

From the monsters of the world. Creed loosened his hold and helped Kita to her feet, rising as he watched father and daughter.

Horace Engalls moved slowly across the room, his face lined, heavy with the decision he’d been forced to make.

Even Creed hadn’t been aware of what Engalls was doing until after the chaos in the garage. Only then had Jonas revealed the full measure of the other man’s involvement and the information he held.

Bastard. Marriage sure as hell hadn’t done anything to cure him of his manipulations.

“Kita.” Horace paused in front of her. “I wanted you safe.”

“You should have trusted me.”

And Creed could do nothing but agree.

Horace nodded. “I should have. But the father manual didn’t come with all the answers to the hard questions, sweetheart. It said follow your heart. And all I wanted to do was save you the knowledge of what your uncle was doing. Of how evil the world could be. That’s what fathers do for daughters, honey. Or at least, that’s what they want to do. Just protect them.”

Kita trembled, and Creed could sense her tears. But these weren’t tears of anger or sadness; rather, they were tears of release, of reconciliation, and maybe even of joy.

“I love you, Daddy.”

Father and daughter.

Creed stood back and gave Horace his moment. A chance to right any wrongs, to be the father, and for Kita to be the child.

Tomorrow would be time enough for him to claim his mate again.

Now, he gave the other man a nod and a smile. Now was the time to lay that foundation.

A foundation on which to build a life.

EPILOGUE

THREE WEEKS LATER

Tall, wide windows spilled brilliant light into the spacious bedroom of the Manhattan apartment Phillip Brandenmore had owned. A property his niece, Kita Claire Engalls, would soon possess once the courts ruled the missing owner as dead.

Once the authorities had arrived at the cabin after Brandenmore’s attempt to kill Kita, her uncle had been transported back to Sanctuary, his mind almost broken. He’d been animalistic, incoherent growls and snarls leaving his lips as spittle gathered on his lips.

“I found it.”

Creed turned from the impressive view of upper Manhattan as Kita all but whispered the words.

Her voice was filled with tears, the scent of her pain filling his senses and drawing him to her to stare at the files she had unlocked.

They had been stored, innocuously, on a hidden hard drive inserted into a digital video frame of family videos at Brandenmore’s penthouse apartment.

Sitting in clear view on his desk, it was a device Creed knew for a fact had been checked.

“The hard drive was very cleverly hidden,” she sighed tiredly as they stared at the files continuing to pop up on the computer the device was attached to. “It didn’t show up with normal search parameters, or even those used to uncover hidden files. He was a genius.” She rubbed at her face wearily. “I remembered the file when he was talking about Mother and the fountain of youth. I came into the office and surprised him days before Jonas captured him. He had the frame, and he was muttering about the fountain of youth. That was the second password.”

Creed stared at the files. They hadn’t even known there could be a second password.

“How did he hide it?” Creed stared at the proof that he had indeed hid it, in amazement.

“As I said, he was a genius.” She gave a small shrug, though he felt the disillusionment that tore through her. “And he told me how to find it. He told me to always remember my mother the day I was born.”

Minimizing the files, she pointed to the picture of her mother holding a newborn child. With a roll of her finger over the mouse pad the little arrow touched the very tip of the corner of the picture, and there, a thumbnail appeared. The mouse then moved to her mother’s left eye.

“He told me I was the apple of my mother’s eye.” She clicked, and there, the message showed up, a request for the password. “Type in a password that has been found on any other file, and this is what you get.” She typed in one of the more well known passwords the Breeds had uncovered.

A series of hidden files came up documenting the life and death of Kita’s mother. Canceling those, she tried again.

“Type in the right password, Fountain of Youth, and you get the files you were looking for.”

And there they were. Labeled by date as well as Breed. Hundreds of files hidden on a hard drive so minute it had been overlooked, because it had never been done before.

It was their last hope to learn what Brandenmore had done to the infant, Amber Broen. If the answers weren’t here, then they faced a future of losing her, as they were losing Brandenmore, if the serum reacted the same as she became older.

He watched as she carefully copied each file to the epad Jonas had given him before disconnecting the frame and laying it carefully on top of the electronic pad used to connect enforcers with the bureau when needed.

Creed sent a carefully worded, encrypted message to Jonas to pick up the package, then lifted his mate from the computer and turned her to face him.

As he suspected, tears whispered down her cheeks. They were tears of regret, of acceptance. There was no longer any denial left inside her, no illusion of anything good left within her uncle.

“He loved you,” Creed whispered. He was convinced of that. “Your uncle loved you and your mother, Kita. Loved you so much that the need to protect you from her fate drove him to the lengths he went to.”

She nodded before laying her forehead against his chest, her breathing hitched from the sobs she tried to hold inside.

“There was no life more important to him than the life of the daughter his sister loved more than anything on this earth.”

During one of the few coherent moments Brandenmore had had over the weeks, that information had come out. It was easy to kill, he had screamed, sobbed. Easy to torture, to maim and to destroy if it meant finding the secret of the fountain of youth. An elixir that halted aging, that cured all diseases, that could save his sister from death. And later, nothing had mattered but saving his niece from the same fate.

The experiments had begun the month Brandenmore had learned his sister had one of the few incurable cancers that still existed. Remission was possible, but the doctors had warned her family it would never last for long.

He’d accepted an offer the Genetics Council had made him that week and begun his research. For massive amounts of money he was given the Breeds needed, then the few mated couples he had been able to acquire. From there, it had snowballed and a monster had been born.

Then, he had learned he had the same cancer, years before his sister had died. Not the niece, but the brother was to be cursed with that fate. It had been more than Phillip Brandenmore could bear.

“He was selfish,” she whispered. “A monster is born, Creed, they’re not created. He was born a monster.”

Unfortunately, Creed agreed with her.

The pain of realization was a strike of agony slashing at him as it tore through her.

As she lifted her head, his head bent, his lips slanting over hers, the need to replace that agony with pleasure driving him to kiss her with a strength and hunger he hadn’t felt since that first kiss.

Her kiss flamed beneath his lips. Arching against him, she twined her arms around his neck, a low moan of need passing her lips as he picked her up in his arms and bore her back to the bed.

Her gown was removed easily. The soft cotton pants he wore pushed from his hips and down his legs with little thought to care.

Thick and heavy, his cock pressed against her lower stomach, throbbing, demanding the heat he sensed rising between her thighs.

Riding him as hard as the need for that pleasure was the need for her kiss though. Not just because of the mating heat that would intensify, or the pleasure he gained from that as well. It was a comfort mixed with a fiery hunger. It was an intimate dance of lips and tongues stroking against each other, loving, caressing as the taste of cinnamon and need filled both their senses.

Creed let his hands stroke up her back, then down. They feathered over her hips, returned to her spine, the sensitive pads experiencing the silken heat of her flesh as she moved against him, stroking fire over his dick as the warmth of her belly stroked across it.

Soft fingers stroked his neck, his shoulders as the kiss began to heat, to become hungrier, more intimate, more desperate.

Forcing his hands from the soft caresses he was delivering to her back, Creed lifted her gently and placed her in the bed before coming over her, a growl vibrating in his chest as he slid between her thighs, pressing them wide with his knees as his lips covered hers once again.

He wanted so much. He wanted every taste of her, each soft inch of flesh stroked with his tongue.

The need rolling furiously within him wouldn’t allow that time. Later perhaps, he thought as his lips moved down her neck, laying a trail of kisses along the slender column as he moved inexorably to the swollen rise of her breasts.

Tight, hard nipples drew him. The taste of them, a banquet of sweet heat as he rolled one against his tongue before pulling it into his mouth.

Human instincts were urging him to hurry, to bury the hard length of his cock inside her, feel the ecstasy of tight, heated flesh enclosing it, milking it with hungry, convulsive strokes. There was another part though. A deep, primal instinct that demanded he reinforce the life commitment his heart, his very soul, had made to her.

As his lips traveled down her body, his tongue peeked out to lick at sensitive flesh, the hunger to hear her cries of need echoing around him driving him to touch her, to taste her in the most intimate of ways.

His tongue stroked over the silken curls surrounding her swollen clit, his fingers parting the moisture-laden folds as her hips arched to him.

Fucking her was the most pleasure he had ever known in his life, but he was learning, discovering other pleasures, other ways to amplify that pleasure with each touch against her flesh.

As he lowered his head, his tongue slid up the narrow slit, flicking against the snug entrance and teasing her with the promise to stretch that sweet flesh soon.

His cock pulsed with burning hunger at the thought of working inside her, nearly obliterating any other need from his mind.

That guiding instinct remained steadfast instead.

To pleasure her.

To ensure she knew, forever, to the depths of her heart and soul that no other man could ever pleasure her, could ever stroke her or satisfy her or fulfill the emotional needs he felt inside her.

Emotion that had begun as fascination, then as attraction, and was only now easing into a fully developed devotion, a love that could span the decades they could have together.

It was a love he was determined to encourage. A love the animal inside him seemed to understand, to crave, and was determined to encourage.

He would argue with her, push her, challenge her. He would never allow what they had to become boring, stale, or predictable. The animal instincts inside him would always know which way to turn.

The man would always know how to whisper the words; the animal would understand how to ensure them.

As his tongue pressed into the tight center of her flexing pussy, a growl rumbled in his chest at the rain-sweet taste of her. The slide of silken juices and the sound of her rising moans beginning to fill his senses.

This was what he had longed for.

Her hands buried in his hair, fingers clenching in the strands as she fought to hold him in place as the pleasure began to tighten inside her. The slide of her heated moisture caressed his tongue as he fucked it inside her, tasting her, building her pleasure, determined to lock her soul to his as her release exploded.

Seconds before she could melt into that oblivion he came over her, the throbbing, sensitive crest of his cock pressing against her, a growl escaping his lips as his head bent to her shoulder and the man he was lost himself to the animal as it rose inside him.

KITA CRIED OUT in a pleasure so exquisite she swore she couldn’t bear it.

Her lashes drifted open as she felt the head of his cock begging to press inside her as his teeth pressed against the curve of her shoulder, beneath her neck.

She knew what was coming. She hadn’t carried his mark, despite the fact that mating heat had been driving them insane for weeks.

Merinus Tyler and her sister-in-law, Sherra, had told her what to expect when it came, but nothing could have prepared her for it.

His teeth raked over her flesh as he began to work the thickly engorged crest of his erection inside her. Tight, hard thrusts that forged a path of burning flames through her pussy, stretching the tender tissue, exposing nerve endings that screamed into life as the broad head parted them and the thick shaft caressed them.

Aching, desperate sensations began to pulse through her vagina. A deep-seated torturous response that silently demanded more. Always more. Harder, stronger, deeper.

She felt taken, possessed, and still, it wasn’t enough. She needed more.

“Creed,” she gasped his name as she felt the next thrust, powerful and fierce bury the heavy flesh in to the hilt.

Her legs lifted, wrapped around his hips. Her head arched back, grinding into the pillows as her hips lifted, demanding more.

“Yes, Kita,” he groaned. “Press up, baby. Give me that sweet pussy. Every tight inch.”

He was buried until he could go no farther before he pulled back and thrust in again, his hips shifting, plunging as he began to fuck her with hard lunges that sent a cry tearing past her lips.

This was life, and it was living.

The brutal ache building in her vagina had her writhing beneath him, her pussy tightening further, that ache coiling around her clit as she felt her womb tightening, an agony of pleasure beginning to burn, to ignite. The snug walls of her pussy milked the hard flesh thrusting inside her, sucking at him, stroking, drawing him deeper as each thrust became harder, faster, lightning striking over her clit, burying to her womb until it ignited a release that had her screaming his name as rapture began to lance through every nerve ending in her body.

She felt his teeth sink home, the fact that he had broken the skin barely registering as she was swept away by sensations so brilliant, so exquisite there was no thought, no memory, no sense of self.

There was only them. His cock flexing and pulsing inside her as he began to come, the feel of the thick, heated extension protruding from beneath his cock to lock him inside her, to stroke against a hidden bundle of nerves that only had her exploding again, harder, brighter, than ever before.

She was crying his name, strangled sounds that she doubted made sense as she was carried away on a wave of pure, blinding sensation.

She swore she felt not just his body, but something more. She felt him, wrapped around her soul, protecting her, his strength cushioning her heart should she need to find solace.

She felt him holding her inside. Felt him bound to her as she had never been bound to another.

In that moment, Kita felt him become her mate.

“I love you.” Barely coherent, the words were torn from her lips. “Creed, I love you . . .”

And that love was answered.

A whisper at her ear as his teeth lifted from her flesh.

“My soul,” he groaned, shuddering in his release. “Sweet God, Kita, you’re my soul.”

And his lips covered hers again. His tongue took her mouth, his moan fed hers.

A kiss as sweet as it was demanding. As binding as it was primal.

It was the kiss that dreams were made of . . .