The Magical Christmas Cat

by Lora Leigh

  Chapter 4

  Haley's bedroom door opened slowly, and Noble stepped into the room.

  She stared at him from her bed, watched the way the dim light from her lamp followed and loved the hard, strong angles of his face.

  His thick black hair fell to his shoulders and framed the hard, sharp contours of his face. High cheekbones, deep-set, slightly tilted eyes, and a strong, sharp nose. He could never be called handsome, not really. Noble was anything but a pretty boy. He was a man, rugged, tough, certain of himself and his abilities to the point that his confidence gleamed in his black eyes.

  She remembered, several months before, the report that he had been wounded on a mission. He had been away from Sanctuary for several long weeks. She had waited, and she had worried, and she had promised herself that the next time she saw him, she would push past the wariness inside herself and do something about this "almost" relationship they seemed to share.

  Yet, when he had returned, she had retreated again. And it wasn't that she lacked confidence, or even daring. Everyone knew Haley could be daring. No, there was something else that had held her back, a certainty, a knowledge that any woman who took Noble on would be taking on much more than a lover.

  And there was always the chance that the "mating-heat" rumors and gossip trash stories in the rags had enough truth to them to be dangerous. Haley was a great believer that where there was smoke, there was fire. And where there was Noble, things would naturally get hot.

  She flinched as he closed the door quietly behind him, still watching her, his black gaze cool and shuttered.

  "You're not supposed to be here," she told him. "I asked you to leave."

  "Are you that anxious to die, Haley?" He leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. "Strange, I never saw you as a quitter."

  His lips quirked at one corner as she stared back at him silently.

  "You can't run, and you can't hide. Not from this." She was already realizing that. That didn't mean it was any easier to accept.

  "Jonas can assign someone else to protect me then," she told him. "I don't want you here."

  She wanted him with a need that sometimes bordered on a craving. From that first meeting a year before, when he had walked into the library, she had known a need for him unlike anything she had known for anyone else.

  And her need was going to cause complications, she could feel it. She had made the mistake years before of having a short affair with Zane until he realized his need for the job was stronger than his need for a woman. But that relationship had taught her how to spot a problem male. And Noble was definitely a problem male.

  "I'm your best bet to stay alive," he told her.

  "And what was Jason?" she asked, her tone biting. "You didn't even warn me you had anyone else watching me. He died needlessly."

  "All breeds die needlessly," he informed her roughly. "It's a war out there, Haley, and you're smack in the middle of it now. Get that in your head. You will not survive alone. You will not survive without me. Period. Until we figure out what the hell happened, you're stuck with me."

  She came off the bed, denial raging inside her.

  "Find someone else. I told you, I don't want you here."

  "And I told you, sorry 'bout your luck," he snarled, those wicked, wicked canines flashing at the sides of his mouth.

  Haley fantasized about those teeth sometimes. Fantasized about watching them rake over her breasts, nip at them. Sometimes she dreamed of them at her neck, her shoulder, biting against her, holding her in place as he took her.

  The animalistic quality of those dreams had always shocked her to her core and left her wet and hungry for days on end.

  As she faced him, she felt that arousal, a constant companion anytime he was near, and forced herself to back away from him.

  "You act as though all you need to do is place distance between us to alleviate the sweet smell of your hunger for me," he bit out, shocking her. "Do you think I can't smell your desire a mile away?"

  She shook her head. She couldn't face this tonight, not on top of the blood and death that surrounded her. She felt as though her body and her soul were stained with guilt.

  "This is why you can't be here," she whispered. "I'm not stupid, Noble. I'll distract you, and you'll end up dead."

  He shook his head and moved closer. Just a few steps, just enough to warn her that he wasn't going to pay attention to her.

  "We'll definitely distract each other," he promised her, his voice low, vibrating with lust. "There's no help for it. And that will be our advantage."

  She shook her head fiercely. "It's not an advantage. You know better than that."

  She backed farther away from him, jerking in surprise as she came against the wall behind her. She watched, her breathing harsh, heavy as he came closer, stalking her, his expression becoming intent, heavy with hunger.

  "You're my mate, Haley," he told her, his voice heavy. And it didn't sound like a good thing. It sounded much too close to the stories that were devoured in the magazines that featured the breeds prominently, with stories of lust-crazed hungers and desires that defied believability.

  "I can't handle this from you," she whispered, as he came closer, almost touching her, his chest inches from the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as she stared up at him beseechingly. "Can't you see that, Noble? I can't deal with fairy tales tonight, or with you here."

  "And I can't deal with another man watching over you." He reached out and touched her cheek, his knuckles rasping over it.

  He rarely touched her. In the year he had been coming to the library, she could count on one hand how many times his skin had actually touched hers.

  "Do you know what a mating is?" His head lowered until his lips caressed her ear.

  Haley let her head rest against the wall, her body feeling weak now while the blood began to pump hard and heavy through her body.

  "The tabloids," she whispered. "They're not true."

  "Not precisely." He rubbed his cheek against her.

  The curiously gentle stroke of his cheek against hers did more to her than she could have imagined possible. Her lashes drifted closed, sensual weakness invaded her body as her sex began to heat, to clench with empty need.

  "Not precisely?" she whispered, as his head lifted, and he stepped back slowly. "What does 'not precisely' mean, exactly?"

  "It means, soon, you'll find out, there's no escaping me, Haley. And there's no escaping what you need from me. Soon."

  He stepped back farther. "You need to rest. The next few days won't be easy for you, and I don't want to complicate that. But there's no forcing me out of here, there's no running from me any longer. We will see this through together."

  Haley bit back her protests. She had been raised by her Scottish father and two older brothers, she knew male determination and arrogance, and if she wasn't mistaken, then Noble had more than his fair share of both.

  As he left the bedroom, she slumped against the wall and breathed out wearily. Fear was like an animal trapped inside her, as was her grief. And like the desire she felt for Noble, she had no idea how to handle either emotion.

  Noble stepped from the kitchen hours later, after Haley slipped silently through the house, like a wraith in her long white gown and robe, her soft red hair a fiery cloud around her pale face.

  He watched as she moved to the huge Christmas tree and slowly, silently, collected two presents from beneath it and walked to the couch.

  He was careful to stay within the shadows. He knew grief. Sometimes, a person had to be alone with it, and sometimes a woman needed to be alone with her tears.

  She opened the first, which he knew must have been Patricia's. The finely made wrap was a blend of russets and dark golds. He remembered that Patricia liked darker colors.

  Haley brought the wrap to her cheek, closed her eyes, and let her tears fall. They fell to the material as her shoulders shook, and she whispered her sorrow against it.

  Long minutes lat
er, she smoothed the wrap over her lap and stared at the other, smaller present in front of het. Regret sliced across his chest. He wanted to go to her. He needed to hold her through her pain. Yet, a part of him sensed, knew, that for Haley to survive, she had to say good-bye in her own way.

  She reached for the box and set it on her knee as she opened it slowly. She lifted the lid of the wide, black jeweler's box and stared at what she had revealed for long, silent moments.

  "I'll miss you, Jason Lincoln," she whispered. "I'm sorry you never found out what freedom truly was."

  Then she set the box on the table, pulled the wrap around her, and curled herself onto the cushions of the couch. She stared at that box as the tears whispered over her cheeks, and finally, just before dawn peeked over the horizon, Haley drifted into sleep.

  Noble stepped farther into the room, moved to the table, and stared down at what she had bought Jason Lincoln. It was a bracelet. Hammered silver and engraved with a single word, freedom. Beside the word was a lion's paw print.

  She'd known Jason wanted a Christmas present. He wondered if she knew that the women of Sanctuary made certain every breed had a Christmas present at Christmas whether they wanted one or not, whether they believed in the holiday or not.

  He bent his knees, resting on the pads of his feet as he stared at the present and at the woman. The wrap she had bought Patricia was snug around her shoulders, and the tracks of her tears still dampened her cheeks.

  He would give her her time to grieve because he knew she needed it. If he allowed that to be stolen from her, she would never walk into his arms as he needed her to. And he needed her to do that. To come to him. To need him. To ache as he ached and to want as he wanted.

  Shaking his head he straightened, drew the light blanket from the back of the couch, and spread it over her before moving to the chair beside her.

  He needed a few hours to doze himself. He would catch sleep as he could, and as a breed, he would adapt until they caught the person who had wounded her so deeply. And when they caught him, Noble promised himself, he would exact vengeance for her.

  Three days later, they laid Patricia to rest next to her husband and the daughter who had gone before her. Noble stood behind Haley through the service and the burial, and as her pain overwhelmed his senses, he pulled her against his chest.

  Her tears soaked into his shirt, branded his flesh, and broke his heart. He rubbed his cheek against the top of her hair, and across the small area his gaze met that of the sheriff's. Noble's eyes narrowed at the flash of jealousy in the sheriff's gaze and the anger when he looked at Noble.

  There was more than friendship in that sheriff's eyes when he stared at Haley. And perhaps hatred when he looked at Noble.

  Later, as they attended the small service held at Sanctuary for Jason, Noble found himself frowning. The priest who presided over the funeral was compassionate, he didn't judge, and he spoke of Jason's love for books and his abiding need for freedom. The priest assured them, Jason was free now.

  As they approached the casket, Noble watched as Haley slipped the silver bracelet in beside the young breed, and his heart clenched.

  Until Sanctuary, breeds had never had a burial. They were incinerated, turned to dust and ashes and, in the minds of their creators, forgotten.

  This ritual that nonbreeds practiced made little sense to him, just as the ritual of Christmas still confused him. Breeds participating in either ritual almost seemed against the laws of nature to him. They weren't human. They hadn't been born, and the God that sanctioned the lives of others hadn't sanctioned the lives of breeds.

  If their lives hadn't been sanctioned, could they still claim His benevolence?

  Noble shook his head and followed Haley as she left the small chapel. He kept his arm around her, kept her to his chest as his team surrounded her and led her back to the black SUV limo that would return her to the warmth of the home she had made for herself.

  Her grief was easing, but he had felt her determination rising. She had been quiet the past few days, but something was strengthening inside her. He could sense it. He could feel it. And the animal part of him stretched in anticipation.

  "We need groceries," Haley stated later, as they neared the outskirts of Buffalo Gap.

  She was aware of the six breeds who rode with them, their silence, their watchfulness. Just as she was aware of their suspicion each time they checked to see if Zane Taggart was still following them.

  Zane wouldn't let go easy. He had imagined himself in love with her years before, and during that brief affair, he had driven her crazy with his protectiveness. It was always very subtle, very warm, but he would have tried to wrap her in cotton if they had stayed together.

  And as much as she cared for Zane, the rest just hadn't come as she had hoped it would. As he had been certain it would. Breaking off their relationship had hurt both of them, and she had tried to ensure that she never placed herself in that position again.

  "You can make out a list when we get to the house," Noble stated. "Someone will deliver the items you need."

  Of course, why hadn't she thought of that?

  Her fists clenched in her lap. She couldn't even risk going to the grocery store.

  "Jonas will be waiting for us at the house," he continued. "We need to discuss what he's learned in the past few days. He's finally managed to gather enough information to give us an idea of what we're looking at."

  She looked up at him in surprise. "He's going to tell me?"

  "It's your life." His sensual lips tightened, and his black eyes flared with anger. "I need you to help me protect you, Haley. To do that, you need the same information I do."

  "At least you're not going to try to lock me in a box then." She sighed.

  The past three days had been hell. Of course her brothers as well as her father had eventually learned something was going on. Concerned neighbors, nosy citizens, someone had made certain they got hold of them.

  Her father was screaming on the phone the night before as her brothers vied to be heard over him during the four-way call.

  She still had a headache and she doubted Noble's conversation with them had done much to allay their concerns or their threats to head straight to Buffalo Gap.

  "It wouldn't do any good to lock you in a box, would it?" He sounded mildly interested at the prospect, enough so that she shot him a warning glare.

  "I know how to pick locks."

  His lips quirked. "Now, why didn't I guess that?"

  "Probably because you were considering the box," she muttered.

  She ignored the amusement in the breeds across from her.

  They were an interesting lot. The three in the driver's area and the three sitting across from them. They were hard-eyed, tough, and strong. Long hair, numerous scars, and all of them looked like men who could fight their way through an army single-handedly.

  And they had all put their lives on the line for her. It was a terrifying thought. It was the reason she had promised herself that whatever Noble needed her to do, she would do. Because it was apparent he wasn't going to leave. Nor would he let her leave. That didn't mean she had to like it. And it didn't mean she had to accept the very sensual invitation he extended each time their eyes met.

  "A box was never under consideration," he finally admitted. "We'll find out who is behind the bombing soon. We know the why of it, we just have to identify the who. Once we've done that, you'll be safe. And once you've testified at the hearing against Brackenmore and Engalls next month, then they'll no longer have a reason to want you dead. They'll be too busy trying to save their own skins."

  She didn't know if she agreed with him on that one. It seemed to her that the hatred Brackenmore and Engalls would feel toward her would be reason enough to kill her. Thankfully for the breeds, she wasn't the only proof they had against the pair.

  "Jonas has arrived at the house," Mordecai Savant, the Coyote breed enforcer who had arrived at Sanctuary six months before, told Noble as he gla
nced at the handheld PDA he pulled from the heavy uniform pocket at his thigh. "It's clear. No signs of unwanted visitors. The lions have canvassed the area, and everything's clear."

  "The lions?" She glanced at Noble again. "You have lions at my house?"

  "The natural lions can sense things we don't," he told her. "If they hesitate, then we know there's a problem. They're our best first defense."

  "Proceed in," Mordecai told him. "Jonas is waiting in the kitchen."

  Haley had to bite her tongue to keep from commenting on that one. No doubt he had sniffed out her stash of cookies agairi. She was going to have to bake more before long. Breeds could find the cookies faster than her brothers could.

  "Is he eating all the cookies?" Blade Travers could never, in anyone's imagination, look boyish. But the anxiety in his eyes reminded her of just that. A kid's concern that he wouldn't get his share.

  "If there are cookies around, then Jonas is going to find them," the breed simply known as Crayven snorted from the front seat. "And I bet Mercury, Lawe, and Rule are taking more than their share, too."

  Yes, she was going to be making more cookies soon, she thought as she heard Noble sigh, almost with longing beside her.

  "I know how to bake more," she finally gritted out between clenched teeth.

  And why she was that insane, she couldn't imagine.

  "You would bake us more?" Mordecai's eyes narrowed on her, as though he suspected her of lying.

  She was definitely going to have to add to that grocery list.

  "I always bake at Christmas." And it seemed this year, she was going to be baking a hell of a lot more than she imagined.

  Breeds. Why hadn't anyone warned her it wasn't just their sharp teeth, biting words, or flare for killing that she needed to watch out for? Someone should have warned her to watch out for their craving for sweets as well.

  She wondered if it went to their hips as fast as it did to hers.

  She glanced at each one, then grimaced. She couldn't get that lucky.

  Chapter 5

  Hours later, Haley was baking cookies out of sheer desperation. Chocolate chip cookies, chocolate oatmeal cookies, and chocolate drop sugar cookies.

  Haley baked to feel good, to think, and to hide. Tonight she was hiding.

  Uriel. She'd heard that name before, she'd read that name before. One of the names associated with a god of death. The Grim Reaper. The taker of life. In this case an assassin.

  According to Jonas, the assassin was suspected to be a breed still under the control of the Genetics Council that had created him.

  The explosion had all his signatures, but the really telling mark was the so-far-untraceable e-mail sent to Jonas at his Bureau of Breed Affairs e-mail address. It stated that he really didn't want to kill more breeds to get to her, but he would if he had to. And it was signed, Uriel.

  She had a professional assassin out to kill her. So what was she doing? She was baking.

  The moment Jonas had given Noble the information the demeanor of the breeds guarding her had changed. The six under Noble's command turned hard and cold.

  Mordecai had demanded Jonas have his pet released from Sanctuary. So, a full-grown, malevolent-eyed natural coyote was now on her property. Great. Just what she needed.

  Weren't they supposed to be impossible to tame?

  Noble had changed as well, and that change made her more nervous than the others. The look he had given her had held a promise, a dark, almost forbidden promise, that shook her to her core.

  As he and Jonas retreated to the living room to discuss security, Haley retreated to the kitchen to bake. And to try to forget that look she had seen in Noble's eyes. The one that promised her he had given her enough space, and that soon, he would be crowding in even closer.

  "Jonas is leaving, Haley." Noble stepped into the kitchen, his black gaze hooded as he flicked over the last sheet of cookies she was pulling from the oven.

  Haley nodded slowly. "Fine."

  She turned and faced Jonas as he moved into the kitchen.

  "We'll have this taken care of soon," Jonas promised her. "We have several leads. Uriel was careless this time. Uriel has been erratic in the past few years anyway, so the successes could barely be counted because of it."

  "But someone still ended up dead, right?" she pointed out.

  "Only because the victims didn't know they were targets," Jonas stated. "We know. Now, I'll leave you with Noble. You have six men guarding you outside as well as that bloodthirsty animal Mordecai carts around with him. Nothing gets past any of them."

  He moved to the back door, shrugging his suit jacket on over the white dress shirt and shoulder holster he wore. Once he had the jacket on, he seemed like any other powerful businessman, until you looked in his eyes.

  "Noble, I'd wish you luck with the other thing," Jonas suddenly turned back to them, his gaze amused, his hard face almost smiling. "But I have a feeling you have that covered as well."

  He left the house, and Noble secured the door behind him before Haley could comment.

  "What's the other thing?" she asked, as he turned back to face her.

  "Something more personal," he finally stated.

  His voice was different. There was a rasp to it, a brief roughness that sent a chill up her spine.

  She rubbed her hands together, ignoring the tingling warmth that filled her palms. Her hands tingled every damned time he was around her. The need, the desire to touch him often nearly overcame her common sense.

  She nodded rather than asking about it. For a few minutes anyway—while she transferred the cookies from the baking sheet to the wire rack for them to cool.

  "What is something more personal?" She laid the spatula down beside the rack and turned to him.

  Facing him across the distance of the kitchen, she somehow felt braver than she had in