The realist in Rebecca shook off the destructive thoughts. Lust and mind-blowing sex did not equate to love.
She had to fight not to giggle upon spotting the numerous discarded condom wrappers littering the floor. They’d made some great memories. Ones she’d cherish and hold close on cold nights.
Dressing in the rumpled clothes, feeling sticky and longing for another shower, she brushed a light kiss across his forehead. Then Rebecca did what had to be done. She walked away, closing the door on one of the most exciting chapters in her life.
Chapter Three
“Not yet. Wait for it,” Micah instructed.
Rubbing at his temples, he struggled to concentrate on his job and clear the erotic images from his mind. Two weeks had passed since his night in Asheville. Fourteen hellish days of torment. More than twenty-thousand minutes—not one of them free from thoughts of her. She filled his mind every moment while awake and invaded his dreams when he managed to sleep.
Dr. Rebecca Southerby, the one who’d gotten away. Not that he was unable to go after her. Finding her had been child’s play. He knew where she lived, worked and spent her free time. He knew lots of facts and figures but longed to know her more intimately. Investigating her background was part of his job since she’d applied for a position at Nanotech Industries, the company where he worked as head of security. Strong work ethics had kept him from using what he’d learned to contact her.
“Hold your positions,” Micah ordered. “He has to leave the building or the charges won’t stick.”
“Suspect’s reached the security scanners,” Simpson stated. The competent security specialist was on the ball, staying almost a step ahead. “Silence the alarms.”
During the break in action, Micah’s mind wandered back to Becca. Intimate details haunted him. Facts impossible to know without having slept with her. Facts he couldn’t forget once he had. Little things, like how her hair smelled of warm cinnamon, her skin of sweet honey. Amazing details such as the musky, slightly spicy flavor of her arousal. The explosive passion hidden beneath layers of respectability.
Rebecca had shoved her sexuality so deep he doubted she’d known it existed before they met. He’d noticed it from the start. It was in every sensual move she made, the subtle innuendo and veiled meaning in how she phrased things. And soon as he’d gotten her alone, the potency of her innate eroticism had blown him away.
“Suspect’s almost to the doors. Ten feet, eight…”
Rawlins’ countdown echoed in Micah’s earpiece, the security guard’s voice cutting through his wayward thoughts. He had to stop thinking about her. Stop fantasizing and replaying every sizzling moment in his mind.
“Five, four—”
“Hang on,” Simpson interrupted. “Suspect is stopping.”
Damn it! Get your fucking head on straight and in the game before you fuck this up!
“What’s happening?” Micah spoke into the microphone concealed by the cuff of his shirtsleeve.
“He’s set down the package,” Rawlins informed. “Hand’s in his pocket. He’s pulling out—”
“It’s a cell phone.” This from Gardner in the security room. “Locking on to the signal. Give me a sec.”
After a few tense minutes and several electronic clicks, the ongoing conversation echoed over their com link.
“Stop boring me with the details of your job and answer the question. Do you have it?”
“Yes.”
“Good. A black SUV will meet you at the entrance to the parking garage.”
“What about the money?”
“Once you hand over the formula, the funds will be transferred to your account. We’ve already been over this. Stop stalling.”
“Fine.”
As the conversation ended, Rawlins resumed his countdown. Micah forced his wayward thoughts to the back of his mind and watched for the suspect from across the courtyard. Industrial security didn’t offer the same thrill for him as serving a decade of covert ops in the Army had, but he enjoyed his work. Scientific research was a highly competitive field full of spies who would bribe, coerce and steal in order to gain an advantage.
Case in point, the weasel was willing to sell his employer’s new technology. A look at his financial records spoke volumes. His wife’s lavish spending habits had gotten them deep in debt. Now he risked his career and even his life for money. Micah had no sympathy for the idiot.
What did bother him about the whole thing was the weasel in question had been in daily contact with Dr. Rebecca Southerby. And the organization was in the process of courting her for a top-secret project. Not even Micah knew details of what her job would involve.
He didn’t want to believe the sweet and demure woman he’d shared a night with could be wrapped up in theft. The sad truth was she appeared to be in this mess up right up to those big green eyes.
“Suspect is on the move. He’s cleared the doors.”
“I’ve got him,” Micah said. “Move in.”
Either the weasel sensed the impending danger or something tipped him off. Whatever the reason, he started to run.
“Suspect’s gone rabbit.” Micah began issuing orders rapid-fire, while racing after the target. “Donovan and Moore, seal off all exits. Hendry, isolate all known associates. Don’t lose him, Gardner.”
“Got him, boss,” Gardner replied. “Pick-up vehicle has rolled up to the southwest gate.”
“I’m on the suspect. The rest of you converge on the garage. I want whoever is in that vehicle. Lethal force is not authorized. Take ‘em down, but make sure they’ll still be able to answer questions.”
Taser in hand, Micah hurtled decorative planters and dodged employees outside enjoying their lunch breaks. He had no trouble closing in on the suspect, a pasty, out-of-shape researcher who spent most of his time working with his mind while neglecting his body.
Seeing the team converge on the SUV, the suspect turned and headed toward the nearby forest surrounding the facility, probably hoping to lose his pursuers in the dense foliage. There wasn’t a chance in hell of Micah letting that happen.
“He’s headed for the trees.”
And Micah was the only one close. Putting on a burst of speed fueled by the adrenaline of the chase, his legs ate up the ground between them, and he gained on the weasel.
Almost there.
He went down, hard. His foot caught in a hole, wrenching his ankle. Micah landed flat on his face and left knee with excruciating darts of pain shooting through his leg.
“Fuck, I’m down. Suspect’s in the woods. Call in local law enforcement.”
* * * * *
“Where the hell am I?”
“Relax, Mr. Lasiter. We’ll be there soon.”
Micah got the hazy impression of a face hovering over him then it disappeared before he could focus on the image.
“There”? Where the fuck is “there”?
He tried to reach up and rub his temple but his hands didn’t work right. They were sluggish, unresponsive. And what was wrong with his eyes? Everything looked fuzzy and surreal. Detached.
He detected movement, saw flashes of green trees through a dark-tinted window. Heard the hum of tires on asphalt.
The darkness at the edges of his vision closed in. Someone spoke but he didn’t understand the garbled words.
* * * * *
Micah’s body jerked. His brain struggled to process the information his senses took in. White walls, beeping instruments, numbness in his legs, his left arm freezing cold from the IV fluids.
Oh shit!
They’d operated again. How many surgeries did that make? Three or was it four? He’d lost count. The anesthesia messed him up, and whatever other drugs they pumped into him fragmented his memories. He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by since he’d blown out his knee.
“Ah, you’re awake. Good!”
He knew that voice. Micah rolled his head to the side to find the head of Nanotech, Gabriel Weltman, sitting in a chair next to the
stretcher he lay on.
“You have decisions to make, Micah. With extensive therapy, you may be able to walk again…one day.”
He caught some of the words but not all. Stuff about shattered bone and inability to restore function. Enough to understand he was royally screwed.
“There is another way. We’ve made great strides with our recombinant DNA and gene-manipulation research. There’s a procedure our scientists have perfected. The Predator Project.”
Weltman rattled off a bunch of scientific stuff that went way over Micah’s head.
“We can make you strong again. Stronger than ever. The intended application is military in nature. We believe you are the perfect candidate. Your DNA would be altered, infused with Panthera leo.”
Panther what?
Certain words rattled and echoed around in his head. Stronger than ever. Able to keep working. Top-secret program.
Micah grasped two important facts. The Predator Project would prevent him from being an invalid. He’d have a second chance. But something wasn’t right since he’d never heard of the project before. From the little he knew about research, it sounded as if they’d broken some laws, maybe done things that circumvented moral and ethical standards for experimentation.
And he no longer had an out. Now that Weltman had shared this information, Micah had to either keep quiet and reap the benefits or blow the whistle, which would probably get him killed. Weltman couldn’t let him walk—or limp—away. Turning this down would be signing his death certificate. He no longer had a choice.
“Do it!”
* * * * *
What the fuck have I done?
Damn, had they ever done it. They’d infused him with animal DNA, performed more operations to help his body accept the new genetic soup. Stuck him with needles, poked and prodded. Then they became afraid of their own creation, shoved him in a cage, locked up behind steel bars. Security cameras watched him every moment, studying him as though he were an animal in the zoo.
Confused, strapped to an exam table, helpless and in pain, Micah endured the researchers torturing his abusing and battered body. Angry and frightened, he felt something elemental within him begin to shift, an altering of reality.
Glass shattered, pulling Micah from his confused thoughts.
“Oh god.”
A nervous female technician had dropped a vial and one of the scientists yelled at her. In his rage, the man lashed out at the woman, striking her face.
“Leave her alone,” Micah demanded. The scientist ignored him.
He fought the restraints to no avail as the woman was slammed against the wall and slapped until she dropped to the ground. It brought back vile memories from his childhood.
Rage blasted him, heating Micah’s blood. His body jerked, snapped the bindings and changed. In the blink of an eye his world reshaped. Antiseptic scents assaulted his nostrils, creating blinding pain in his head. His vision sharpened, turned to shades of black and white. He felt strong and had a powerful urge to stalk and hunt.
Shrill screams pierced his skull and made his temples ache. He shook his head in an effort to ease the pain, relieved when the horrible sound ended. The rapid pounding of feet brought his attention to the doorway as men rushed into the room. One of the men drew a weapon and Micah dodged behind a table.
A piercing burn slammed into his flank and suddenly his body weakened. His head swam drunkenly, muscles stopped responding. Heavy limbs faltered, causing him to stumble and fall to the floor as his vision dimmed.
* * * * *
“Good, the sedative has worn off.”
Weltman’s voice jerked him back to the present. Micah glared at his boss, who stood on the other side of steel bars.
“I have to say, Lasiter, you going all feral and shifting into a lion has created quite the stir around here. No one ever suspected the procedure would give subjects the ability to change form. We’d hoped for greater strength but this— Amazing.”
Jesus Christ, it’s true then. It really happened. I turned into a lion.
Shocked beyond speech, he listened, absorbed. After all, information was power and he needed all he could get.
As he spoke, Weltman motioned for a guard to unlock the door. He moved into the small space, appearing unafraid. Of course, the fact the guard held a tranquilizer gun pointed at Micah’s chest would provide a measure of safety.
“We believe your anger brought about the change. Our researchers are currently devising a series of tests to determine what other factors will have the same effect. Thankfully, I had the foresight to hire a specialist in zoology, specifically in large cats. You might remember a bit about her since you performed a rather thorough background check.”
Weltman turned to the side, motioned to someone. “I assure you, my dear, it’s quite safe. Please join us, Dr. Southerby.”
“Becca?” Jesus, how deeply was she involved in this mess? How much did she know?
She stepped into view, sucking all available oxygen from the cell and he forgot why it mattered. His heart and lungs ceased to function, while his cock roared to life. She appeared small and fragile standing next to Weltman.
Dressed in sensible clothes and a white lab coat with wire-rimmed reading glasses perched on the end of her pert nose, Becca was a sight for sore eyes. As before, her chestnut hair had been pulled into a chignon at the back of her head. He longed to release the pins and free the silky mass.
His memories had not done her justice. She was more beautiful than he’d recalled.
Desire shot through him, heated his blood, which sizzled within his veins. Lust arced between them, drew them together. Famished, he drank her in, noticing the signs that Becca was not unaffected by his presence. Her nipples puckered, pressed against the material of her blouse. With trembling hands, she reached for him, only to be stopped short several feet away.
“That’s close enough, dear.”
“M-Micah. What’s going on? What are you doing here? I don’t understand.”
His gaze was locked on her arm where Weltman’s fingers wrapped around the slender muscle, holding her back from him.
“I thought you brought me here to work with a lion?”
Had she not been told what she was getting into? Had she been kept in the dark?
“I did,” Weltman responded.
“I-I don’t understand.”
Seeing Weltman grip her arm so tightly made the anger swell. “Let. Her. Go,” he roared.
“Now, now, Lasiter. Don’t go getting yourself upset. Remember what happened the last time?”
Too late. There would be no stopping his transformation. Possessive rage grew, urged on by protective instincts. “No one touches her!” The words were spoken in a soft, deadly tone.
Weltman didn’t heed the warning. Instead, he pulled Becca tight against his side, held her shackled to him and started dragging her toward the door.
The change hit him fast, altering his body before his mind could object. As before, his senses sharpened. The acrid smell of fear polluted the air, covering the purity of Becca’s wonderful scent. Her shocked gasp hit him as hard as a punch to the solar plexus. A heartbeat later, she fainted, slipping to the ground. Weltman let her go.
“Don’t shoot,” his boss told the guard. Concerned only for his own hide, he made a hasty retreat, slamming the cell door behind him with a resounding clang.
“You’re just going to leave her in there,” the guard objected, “with that…that animal.”
“I’m late for a meeting. And I’m sure as hell not going to fight him for her anyway. She’ll be fine. After all, he’s the reason she’s here.”
More likely it served some purpose only Weltman was aware of.
Under the animal’s control, Micah followed its instincts. He moved to Becca and stood over her, shielding her body with his. He stood rigid and immovable until the other men left, removing the threat.
Lying down next to her, he licked her face then rested his head on her belly, safeg
uarding the woman the lion claimed as his mate. Regardless of how much the idea frightened the man, the beast had made its choice. The die had been cast.
There was no going back.
Chapter Four
Her body was sore in wonderful places from muscles unaccustomed to such vigorous activity. Rebecca should be satiated and sound asleep but her lover shifted positions and one solid thigh moved between her splayed legs.
She wanted more of him. After all, they had not done everything. There was still a great deal of uncharted territory. This time she wanted to take the lead, be the one in control of their lovemaking.
Careful not to wake him, not before assuring she got what she desired, she rolled Micah to his back. Mmm…what a sight. All that bare male flesh—solid muscle divided by deep chiseled indentations. The difference between his hard masculine sinew and her soft curves were delightful, and deserved thorough investigation.
She started at the thick column of his neck, trailed her tongue over the length, across his clavicle, dipping into the shallow depression at the center before traveling south. The straight line separating his pectorals didn’t hold her focus for long. Not once she spotted the darker flesh of his nipples. Rebecca’s course veered sharply.
The first wet flick brought the tiny nub to life. The second puckered the areola. On the third, he moaned and shifted. She held her breath and remained still until he settled before resuming her explorations.
She teased and tasted every muscle over his washboard abdomen. Pleased to discover he had an inny, she circled his navel then thrust into the tiny recess. Moving lower, as she sucked the head of his cock past her lips, he woke with a rough groan.
“Damn, baby. That feels so good.”
Rebecca took more of his length, bobbed a few times, then released him with a soft pop. “Yes, but I want to ride you.”
She attempted to sound bold, but the slight waver in her voice gave her away. Thank goodness he ignored the slight falter.
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