Lion's Heat

by Lora Leigh

  "Come on, Wyatt, you don't want to say no to this deal." His eyes narrowed warningly. "I'm on that committee. I approve those funds . . ."

  "You don't approve jack shit," Jonas stated coldly, insultingly. "Don't pretend you do. And the next time you address my assistant with such malicious disrespect, I'll rip your throat out."

  There was no doubt he meant every word. The slice of frozen mercury that his eyes became sent a chill racing over Rachel as well as the senators who now stood, facing an animal in danger of losing its appearance of civility.

  "Rachel, we're leaving." His fingers curled around her upper arm as she quickly grabbed her pad and briefcase.

  A second later, he was leading her from the table and through the restaurant. He didn't stop to pay for the meal, nor did he make the polite attempts not to burn this particular bridge. Not that Rachel blamed him. Racert was asking Jonas to not only steal from his own people, but to do so secretively and selectively.

  "That might not have been wise," she stated as he escorted her to the limo waiting at the entrance.

  Sliding into the interior of the vehicle, she watched as Jonas took his seat, the door closing behind him as the driver, a Coyote Enforcer, began to pull out.

  Slowly, the glass partition between the seats rose, sealing them into a quiet, intimate atmosphere that she could have done without.

  "He insulted you," Jonas growled. "Right there to your face."

  "He's not the first." She rolled her eyes at his anger. "I get insulted every time I refuse to allow someone who believes they're my superior to talk to you. Get over it."

  The next growl that rumbled in his throat had her watching him warily. Her gaze slid from his, to his arms, to his hands. Swallowing tightly, she watched as he slowly curled his fingers into fists to hide the primal claws that had torn through what at first appeared to be scars in the tips of his fingers.

  "I will not get over it," he rasped, the icy silver of his eyes unthawing to boiling mercury. "I should have torn the bastard's tongue from his throat."

  Rachel's brows arched. "Why? Because he was an asshole? Good Lord, Jonas, when did you decide you were my keeper?"

  "The day you walked into my office and I realized you were my mate," he snapped back.

  For a moment, the normally suave, calm Jonas was the animal she had always sensed lurking beneath the carefully clothed exterior. His eyes raged, his body was tense with the need for action, his expression shifting between sensuality and fury.

  "I'm not your mate . . ."

  He was on her. That quick. Rachel found herself lying back along the seat, his large body straddling her, the feel of his cock, heavy and hot, through the material of his slacks as his hips pressed against hers.

  "Jonas." Her gasp was part protest, part sudden pleasure.

  How the hell was she supposed to control herself when he did this? When the forceful dominance he was displaying was the stuff of her fantasies?

  "Never deny me again." His hand gripped her wrists, pulled her arms back and secured them above her head as he stared down at her.

  The position lifted her breasts, made them appear fuller, more alluring. Her nipples pressed against the blouse where her jacket had fallen open, as the soft lace of her bra showed clearly through the pale material.

  "God, I want to feel your nipple in my mouth." The words sent a punch of sensation straight to her womb. "If I touch you with my mouth, with my tongue, everything you don't want is going to come crashing down on you. You know that, don't you, Rachel?"

  She knew it, and still, the sudden ache for it was almost more than she could bear.

  "Touch me," he groaned. "Just once." He brought her hands to his chest. "I swear to God I'll control it. Just once."

  Jonas found he wasn't above begging. He'd spent a lifetime in those fucking labs and never begged for anything, but now, he would go to his knees for a single touch from the delicate hands pressing against his shirt.

  "This is dangerous," she whispered.

  "Not touching me is more dangerous," he snarled. "Do it, damn you. You're killing me."

  The need for it was ripping him apart.

  Slowly, staring up at him, her eyes locked to his, she slid her fingers to the buttons of his shirt and slowly undid them.

  She surprised him. He could feel the need in her, smell it. She wasn't trying to hide it. He hadn't expected her to actually touch him, but there was no doubt she was going to do just that.

  The only question was, could he survive it?

  As she spread the edges of his shirt apart with deliberate slowness, Jonas had to fight just to breathe as her fingertips raked over his hairless chest.

  The fine hairs that covered his body lifted to her fingertips as a ragged groan tore from his body. Just the tips of her fingers were like flames as they stroked over the flexing muscles, rubbed, caressed, rasped his flesh with her small nails.

  Jonas felt his claws sink into the leather of the seat by her shoulders. Never had he lost such control. Only during moments of rage did the lethally sharp bonelike matter flex from beneath his flesh.

  But never had he known such pleasure, or need, either. It was burning inside him, stealing control, making him so hungry for her kiss that he had to clench his teeth to keep from begging for it as well.

  "Your flesh is tough," she whispered as her fingertips rubbed against his pectoral muscles.

  "Yours is like silk." And he wasn't even touching her. He knew what it would feel like, sensed it from the touch of her hands.

  "Jonas, this is so very dangerous." Her voice was husky, filled with arousal.

  Shifting his hips, he moved until he was pushing her legs apart, her skirt rising, allowing him to slide into place. Only the clothing they wore separated him from the sweet, wet flesh of her pussy.

  "Shh," he soothed. "No danger here, baby. Just touch me. Just for a minute."

  Her fingers curled against his chest, two little nails scraping over the flat, round disc of one nipple.

  His hips jerked, instinct rushing through him as he fought to bury his cock inside her.

  The gasp of her breath as the hard, covered flesh of his dick raked against her clit was nearly his undoing.

  "Can I taste you?" The question had pure pleasure exploding through his mind. "Just once."

  She wanted. He could smell the want pouring from her, a want he had promised he wouldn't take advantage of.

  "Taste me," he whispered. Hell, he had no idea if it would hurt or not. There had been instances that even the tiny hairs on a Breed's body contained minute amounts of the mating hormone. But it was rare. So rare.

  Her head lifted to him as he bent to her, expecting to feel the touch of her lips on his chest. Instead, her head lifted farther, and he felt the stroke of her tongue against his neck, the rasp of her teeth.

  Goddamn. He was going to melt. Fire raced along his body, tore through his balls and melted his brain. Impulse and instinct were the only things left. He had enough thought process left to thank God that his animal instincts had enough honor to not force the mating heat on her.

  "Cinnamon," she whispered. "You taste like cinnamon and cloves, Jonas."

  "God. No." He tore himself from her.

  Jerking back, he forced himself to his own seat, his head falling back as he ran his hands through his hair and fought for control. Just a little control, enough to keep himself from taking what he so, so desperately wanted.

  "What, Breeds aren't allowed to taste like cinnamon and cloves?" There was an edge of frustrated amusement, almost playfulness, to her voice.

  Jonas breathed in roughly. "That mating hormone: It tastes like cinnamon and cloves."

  "Merinus said it tasted like a rainstorm." Confusion filled her voice as he heard her sitting up.

  "Merinus has a big mouth," he muttered as he felt the claws slowly retract and control return by minute increments. "It's different sometimes. It's according to the Breed."

  "So Callan is stormy and you're h
ot?" That was definite amusement. Damn her, she was laughing about it when he felt as though he were going to explode.

  "Or something." Lifting his head, he stared into her laughter-filled green eyes.

  "Just think of the tabloid stories I could sell with this." Her brows wagged playfully. "Bureau director tastes of cinnamon and cloves, Feline Breed leader tastes of water and sulfur. What surprises will the Breeds come up with next?"

  "You have no idea," he growled.

  "Tell me, Jonas, do you think if we ever get around to having sex that you'll do the barb thing, or do you think you can convince it to stay hidden a time or two, just until I decide if I want to actually experience it?"

  Someone seriously needed to instruct Merinus on the value of keeping Breed secrets secret.

  "I don't think it works quite that way," he groaned, torn between amusement and frustration. Damn, where had his ice princess gone? The mischievous imp staring back at him now was going to make him crazy.

  "Ah well, too bad. That barb thing sounds rather intimidating to me." Straightening her skirt, she licked her lips, her expression shifting as though some taste there pleased her.

  Damn, if he actually had the chance to taste her, he would do more than relish it. His tongue would be buried so deep inside her pussy that she wouldn't know where she ended and he began.

  As for the "barb thing," as she called it, he had to admit he was looking forward to it. The whispers he'd heard of the pleasure it induced made it sound like a sexual nirvana. A pleasure that radiated to every cell of the body and left a Breed shaking and begging for more.

  Blowing out another hard breath, he narrowed his eyes and watched as Rachel licked her lips again. Her nipples were still hard and the sweet scent of her pussy still infused the air, just as the darker, richer sent of her arousal tormented his already starving senses.

  She was his buffet, and he was starving for her.

  Pulling the electronic pad free of its case, Rachel frowned as she used the stylus to pull something up on the pad's face.

  Her forehead tightened as she began to read.

  "I need to skip this party tonight," she murmured as though it didn't matter to her either way. "We have information coming in from China concerning several companies there that Brandenmore and Ingalls have contacted. They suspect they've sent in genetic information to those companies. I want to follow the trail."

  "Forget it. Put Brim on the trail; his contacts there are more extensive and he has the time for it. You don't."

  He could almost feel her frustration now. He knew exactly why she was trying so desperately to get out of that party. She had obviously brought one of her toys with her and intended to use it.

  That wasn't going to happen. He smiled at her, one of those slow, easy smiles that he knew her response to. It came instantly. Suspicion darkened her green eyes as they narrowed and her lips thinned in irritation.

  Jonas leaned forward slowly. "Do you really think I'm going to allow you the chance to achieve release without me? Consider me your personal shadow."

  Her lips parted as pearly teeth tightened in a charming little grimace.

  "That's not fair, Jonas. You can find release without making a sound," she pouted.

  "Can I?" He leaned back, wondering why Merinus hadn't apprised Rachel of this particular drawback of mating heat. "It does a male in heat no good to attempt to masturbate, sweetheart. It only makes the need worse."

  She blinked back at him. "You're lying."

  "Call Merinus and ask her about it." He snorted. "She hasn't been able to keep her mouth shut about anything else."

  She crossed her legs, drawing his gaze to her slender thighs silhouetted beneath the short skirt she wore. "Merinus really didn't say much. She simply didn't answer specific questions."

  She was lying through her teeth.

  Jonas shook his head slowly. "Don't try that lie with any other Breed," he advised her. "As sweet as your lies smell, they're still lies."

  And that cute little smile peeked through once again. It was impish, filled with warmth, and it threatened to drown him in his own fucking need. Damn, he needed her.

  "We're here." The driver's voice came through the intercom between the two sections.

  "Pull into the main entrance," Jonas ordered as he pressed the button to activate the speaker beside him. "Mordecai and Rule should be waiting for us."

  "I see them at the entrance now," he was told.

  The limo drew to a stop in front of the two-story brick town house. The building had been donated to the Breeds by an eccentric older couple who had lost their son when he was killed by Council soldiers in the Breed rescues.

  "I assume you've had a room reserved for me at the nearest hotel?" she asked sweetly, though the chill underlying her tone was readily apparent.

  "I guess I didn't," he assured her as Mordecai opened the door and stepped to the side. "Let's go, Rachel. We have little time before the party tonight. Your things are in the guest room waiting for you."

  "As is the hairdresser the Prima ordered," Mordecai informed them as he glanced inside. "She called me herself to verify the arrival."

  "I don't like this," Rachel muttered as she cast Jonas a highly suspicious look.

  "What am I going to do with all the damned Enforcers assigned here?" Jonas asked her as he helped her from the limo. "The place is like Fort Knox when I'm here."

  That wasn't necessarily the truth, but it sounded damned good, Jonas thought as he tugged at her hand and pulled her up the stone steps to the wide double doors that Lawe guarded diligently.

  "Somehow, I'm not reassured," she told him as they stepped into the house.

  "Somehow, I didn't think you would be." He chuckled as his hand settled at the small of her back while he guided her to the curved staircase. "Come along, sweetheart. I'll show you to your room, then we'll see about making it through that boring-assed party you thought I should attend."

  "The party is hosted by Drey Hampton, a personal friend of Horace Engalls and one of the Breeds' more secretive contacts," she reminded him. "This was the only way he could get information to us that we were hoping he'd learn concerning Brandenmore's plans once he was out of custody on bail."

  "Refresh my memory," Jonas drawled mockingly. "Didn't we warn the judge he would run?"

  "Just as you were warned that the judge was going to set bail despite the arguments presented by the prosecutor," Rachel reminded him.

  "He argued really hard too, didn't he?" Jonas growled as he opened the door to her bedroom.

  The prosecutor had more or less sat back and allowed Brandenmore's attorneys to run the courtroom. It was sickening how many times Brandenmore had easily bought favor since his arrest. The judge was ready to throw the case out before Jonas had sent the paperwork in for his extradition and re-arrest based on Brandenmore's threats against Rachel and Amber.

  "I warned you that you needed to check more diligently into his background," Rachel pointed out as she stepped into the bedroom.

  She had argued with Jonas over this one. Jonas believed the prosecutor would fight with everything he had to make good on the promises given the Breeds when several of them had made hefty donations to his political campaign.

  They had learned better quickly.

  "I really need to check out the information coming in myself, Jonas." She sighed as she turned to face him, her nervousness gaining in strength the closer they got to the bed.

  "Forget it. I'll contact Brim in a few minutes and put him on it. We have a party to attend, and hopefully Drey has indeed managed to pull in some information for us. Now get dressed. I'll see you before we leave for the party."

  Rachel chewed at her lip as he left the room, and restrained the need to stomp her foot.

  She didn't want to go to that damned party. Not only were there spies, killers and general troublemakers who attended these soirees, but the very ambassador who had tried to force her to whore herself to return home would be in attendance as we
ll. If that wasn't a recipe for disaster, then she didn't know what was.

  And if those obstacles weren't enough, there was the fact that she was able to have fun with Jonas now. Perhaps Merinus should have warned him that once she felt her job was secure she could make his life hell? Or perhaps Kane should have warned him?

  It wasn't that she caused trouble, or deliberately set out to make anyone crazy. It was simply that she did have rather a smart mouth. She could be quiet and unemotional, or she could be fun and playful. There was no in-between.

  And it seemed there was no getting out of this party either. She would definitely have to make Jonas pay for this one.

  At least she was able to pander to the girly part of her when she had to attend these events. Merinus always ensured that the Bureau sprang for some really pretty dresses.

  The one awaiting her was an evening gown of sapphire silk overlaying a gorgeous slip of silver lace. The skirt was slit to the knee, allowing the lace to spill from the side to the toes of sapphire heels. The bodice was held by narrow straps and cupped her breasts like a lover's hands. It was the most exquisite dress by far that Merinus had provided. With the dress were silver stockings shot with sapphire thread and banded with delicate lace at the thigh.

  She had never worn a dress so lusciously feminine in her life. It was enough to make her want to attend that party.

  Lifting her hand, she nibbled at her thumbnail as she wondered exactly how she was going to navigate the tricky waters that Ambassador David Slussburg was certain to churn up.

  The man was a prick, and on top of it, he hated Breeds. He hated them to the point that he had on many occasions commented that the world would be better off if the Breeds were dead.

  He was the type of man who wouldn't care a bit to be snide and mocking in Jonas's presence, and Rachel had a feeling Jonas would be less than charitable once Slussburg got started.

  She only hoped she herself could be tactful enough to steer Jonas well clear of him.

  CHAPTER 7

  Jonas scented Rachel's nervousness as she paused at the top of the stairs, staring down at where he waited below. Turning, he had to forcibly control the animal growl that rose in his throat and the need that had claws threatening to slide from the tips of his fingers.

  Had he ever seen anything, or anyone, so damned beautiful? Jonas was certain he hadn't, just as he was damned certain there was no way he was going to make it through the night without taking her.

  Hell, he wasn't going to make it from the house before he touched her. He could touch her in reasonable safety, he told himself. But that sounded rather lame even to him. There was no way to truly ensure that the mating hormone didn't affect even the fine hairs that covered his body.

  It was damned certainly affecting his tongue. The glands were so swollen they were painful, the taste of cinnamon and cloves filling his senses and reminding him how easy it would be to infuse her with the same arousal tearing through him.

  Not that she wasn't aroused. She was. Just not insanely aroused. She wasn't in mating heat, and that was where he wanted her. Now.

  Before he realized what he was doing, his foot was on the top step, his intentions clear in his mind. To kiss her. To taste her. To fill her with the hormone tearing through him, demanding sex, touch, taste. Possession.

  "Merinus outdid herself." She touched the skirt of the dress self-consciously as she watched him. "The dress is exquisite."

  Merinus hadn't arranged for the dress; he had. Jonas kept that information to himself for the time being and watched, waited, as she made her way down the curving staircase.

  The dress cupped and hugged her upper body like a possessive lover. The skirt flowed over her legs, lace spilling down the side, the glittering blue threads sparkling through the material.

  He wondered if the stockings looked as pretty on her as they had on the mannequin the dressmaker had kept in her shop.

  "Are we ready to go?" she asked as she secured the fur-lined silk wrap that went with the dress.

  "Not yet." If he didn't touch her, he was going to die. He was going to do something he knew they didn't want to face when the cold light of morning revealed itself.

  But did he have the strength to pull back from just a touch.

  "Come with me." He didn't touch her, not yet. Turning on his heel, he strode along the short foyer to the receiving room, waited until she entered, then closed the doors securely and locked them.

  "Jonas?" The concern in her tone sliced through him as he turned back to her.

  Before he could stop himself, and God knew he wished he could have stopped himself, he gripped her shoulders, spun her around and pressed her against the door.

  Her soft cry was lost as his lips parted and his teeth gripped the side of her neck in sensual warning. The animal knew what was going on with the man. It knew he was fighting a battle he was going to lose, and he couldn't stop himself.

  "Jonas!" Shock and arousal fueled the needy, breathless sound of her voice.

  Gripping her hips, Jonas held her still as his knees dipped, his hips pressing against her rear as a harsh growl tore from his throat.

  When she didn't fight, when he smelled the soft flavor of feminine juices spilling from the luscious heat of her pussy, his teeth slowly released her.

  His fingers flexed on her hips as he rubbed his cock against the cleft of her rear, rotated his hips and imagined the pure ecstasy of sinking inside her.

  "Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

  "You're my mate." His voice didn't sound like his own. It was rougher, harder, more primal. "Do you know how hard it is not to take you?"

  Pressing his lips against the vulnerable crook of her neck, Jonas inhaled the scent of her, tasted her wit