In A Wolf's Embrace

Breeds -13

Lora Leigh

FOREWORD

They were created, they weren't born.

They were trained, they weren't raised.

They were taught to kill, and now they'll use their training to ensure their freedom.

They are Breeds. Genetically altered with the DNA of the predators of the earth. The wolf, the lion, the cougar, the Bengal; the killers of the world. They were to be the army of a fanatical society intent on building their own personal army.

Until the world learned of their existence. Until the council lost control of their creations, and their creations began to change the world.

Now, they're loose. Banding together, creating their own communities, their own society, and their own safety, and fighting to hide the one secret that could see them destroyed.

The secret of mating heat. The chemical, biological, the emotional reaction of one Breed to the man or woman meant to be his or hers forever. A reaction that binds physically. A reaction that alters more than just the physical responses or heightens the sensuality. Nature has turned mating heat into the Breeds' Achilles Heel. It's their strength, and yet their weakness. And Mother Nature isn't finished playing yet.

Man has attempted to mess with her creations. Now, she's going to show man exactly how she can refine them.

Killers will become lovers, lawyers, statesmen, and heroes. And through it all, they will cleave to one mate, one heart, and create a dynasty.

I dreamed of a man, lost, broken, and alone.

I dreamed of a woman, disillusioned, weeping,

and forced to roam.

I dreamed of a child, cold, hungry, and without a home.

A wolf cried out.

A lion roared.

And the lonely eagle screamed upon the winds,

where he soared.

And in a dream, a story was born.

Thank God for the dreams.

CHAPTER ONE

New York City

Dubbree Suites Hotel

2023

Two assassinations in one month, each tied to known or suspected Genetics Council members. It was going to be a public relations nightmare for the Feline Breed contingent of the species.

First General Cyrus Tallant. Of course, his assassination had been laid at the feet at the Genetics Council upper-level members. As would this one be. After all, Dr. Benedikt Adolf Albrecht was under just as much, if not more, suspicion of being aligned with the shadowy twelve-member directorate of the council.

Matthias Slaughter knew Albrecht was more than just aligned. Albrecht was an actual member of the council directorate. He was also the director of training. It was his, his father's, and his father's before him, legacy to the hellish existence the Breeds had endured in the labs.

The Breed species hadn't been lucky enough to be born. No, nature hadn't, in all her insight and mercy, thrown a genetic kink in the works of an everyday human. Quite the contrary. In one of her rare fits of humor, she had decided instead to work with what man had created. What monsters such as Albrecht had pieced together. With their genius in genetic engineering and the past atrocities of their forefathers, the council had managed to create the human and animal species they had envisioned as their own personal army. An army that would be the muscle behind their quest for power.

How nature must have chuckled over that one.

Matthias imagined over the years that he had heard a giggle or two from her as well.

Physically, mentally, genetically, the Breeds were everything the council had hoped for, paid for, killed for. Psychologically, they fell far short of the mark. Like their natural cousins, the predators of the earth, the Breeds worshipped freedom, and they worshipped their own honor.

Many had died remaining true to that inner code, an ideal rather than a set of rules. An instinctive hunger and drive to attain the freedom their wild cousins knew.

They were animals in men's bodies. Primal, savage, predatory. And intelligent.

That intelligence had been the downfall of the council's plans. And it found him here now, more than a century after the first Breed had drawn his first breath.

The technical wizardry of another Breed enforcer was ensuring that the security cameras didn't record Mathias's entrance or later his exit. It was ensuring that the council itself was blamed for this death, as well as the generals before him.

The council must be cleaning house.

Matthias grinned at the headlines he imagined. The grin was quickly gone, as the sound of the penthouse's double doors opening had him waiting expectantly.

He didn't tense. Not so much as breath disturbed the air, as he inhaled carefully. Albrecht was known to travel with several bodyguards, though tonight, as they had every night, during this short stay in New York, Albrecht's bodyguards were heard entering their separate room farther down the hall.

Excellent. Albrecht was known to depend on the Dubbree Hotel's security. Arrogant bastard. He thought his position protected him. That his genius in genetics and his fortune in pharmaceuticals could possibly shield him from retribution. But he had always flaunted security. Just for the hell of it. After all, who would dare attempt to harm him?

"Cretins." The heavy German accent had Matthias's lip curling to reveal the wicked canines at the side of his mouth.

Benedikt Adolf Albrecht wasn't well known for his respect toward his bodyguards.

Lights flared in the entryway, the doors closed, Mathias waited.

His prey was a creature of organized habits. Albrecht believed an organized mind was a stable mind. That could explain the accusations Matthias regularly received in regards to his own sanity. Or lack thereof.

He waited patiently in the darkened living room. The bar sat across from him. Albrecht would go there first.

And just like clockwork, the low lamps flared to life, all but the two that sat near Matthias, and Albrecht moved slowly toward the bar.

Albrecht looked like a cadaver. Tall, skinny, thin gray hair, lying close to his scalp, and pale, almost bleached flesh. He stalked to the bar, as Matthias lifted his weapon from his lap.

Ice clinked in the glass, liquor splashed into it. Matthias aimed, pulled the trigger, and watched the back of Albrecht's head crack from the bullet. A second later the council member fell over the bar. Crystal carafes rolled, broke, scattering glass and the scent of liquor. But even that couldn't drown out the sound of horror from the entrance.

A woman's shocked gasp, the scent of fear—and of recognition. For the first time in his thirty years of life, Matthias felt regret, and a tinge of sadness. Because he knew his own fate had just been decided.

Matthias turned to his side, a snarl on his face, a growl in his voice.

"Goddamnit, Grace."

Static crackled in the communications link at Matthias's ear.

"Get her out of there, Matthias. I can control the security monitors for five minutes, tops. Use the stairs, proceed to the ground floor. Lawe will be waiting with the van at the exit."

Matthias was moving, even as Jonas barked the orders into the receiver at his ear. He was across the room before the slender, doe-like figure of Dubbree's assistant manager, Grace Anderson, could run.

Her lips were opening, her lungs filling. Before the scream could leave her throat, his hand was over her lips and nose, his other arm jerking her against his chest, compressing her lungs and causing instant unconsciousness.

He slung her over his shoulder and strode quickly from the suite, pausing a precious second to make certain her prints didn't show anywhere on the doors, and securing the locks before moving down the hall.

He picked up the sounds of the bodyguards in the next room, the television they were watching, someone was showering. He strode by the door, slipped down the stairwell, and began taking the steps at a quick run.

Grace's weight was slight, her scent wrapping around him like silken regret. She shouldn't have been here. He had watched her get into her car and move into the traffic that congested Manhattan that afternoon. She was supposed to be on her way out of town, on vacation, leaving the city for the peace and relaxation of the mountains.

She wasn't supposed to be here. And she wasn't supposed to be anywhere near Albrecht.

The assistant manager of the exclusive hotel had earned herself a well-deserved break from the city. She had laughed with him about it and invited him to join her when his business in town was completed. Sun and fun, clear streams and lots of trees, she had teased. And he had promised her, first thing in the morning, he would follow her.

Dammit to hell, why had she come back?

"Lawe's in position, you have three minutes," Jonas spoke in his ear. "You have to clear that exit and be in the van before the cameras go to normal operation again."

The scheduling of the security upgrades were top secret, even the floor security personnel had no idea when it happened. Jonas, miracle worker that he was, had managed to find out not only when it would happen, but how to ensure how long it would take.

"I'll have ten seconds to spare," he muttered, racing down the stairs, his steps silent, his movements sure despite his burden. "Have the doors open."

"Open and ready," Law reported. "Get a move on big boy, this area won't stay secure the full time."

Get a move on. He grunted at the order. As though he wasn't going fast enough.

"Break the girl's damned neck and dump her." Another voice came across the line. "She's a liability."

A growl rumbled from Matthias's throat, though his pace never faltered.

"Shut up, Simon," Jonas ordered. "Two minutes, Matthias."

He would make it in plenty of time if Sleeping Beauty didn't decide to wake up and pitch a fit. And she could pitch a fit. He'd met her during the mugging Jonas had staged for Matthias to save her from. If he hadn't moved in when he had, Simon might have been charging the Breeds extra for hazardous-duty pay.

Thankfully, she stayed quiet. He hit the exit, ducked, and disappeared into the interior of the van, with two seconds to spare. The door slammed shut, barely missing Grace's head. The van was accelerating away from the exit less than a second later.

"Security system active. All monitors showing normal operational status. The Monarch Suite is locked and secured. Good going Matthias," Jonas congratulated him.

Matthias placed his hand protectively against Grace's head, shifted her from his shoulder, and laid her on the tarp-covered floor of the van.

Simon watched him, smirking. The blond haired mercenary with the smooth southern drawl was a pain in the ass under normal circumstances. A blue-eyed ladies man and self-professed rogue, the mercenary was also a tactical genius.

Beside him, Jonas, the director of the Bureau of Breed Affairs, sat in the secured chair in front of a bank of monitors and finessed a keyboard like it was a lover. The military cut of his black hair revealed an imposing profile, though his eerie silver eyes were damned odd for a Lion Breed.

Breed Enforcement agent, Lawe Justice, drove, and Rule Breaker (hell of a set of names for cats) watched him expectantly from the front passenger seat.

"He didn't kill her," Simon stared down at Grace almost mournfully, as he tipped his cowboy hat back and flicked a glance at Matthias. "What the fuck are you going to do with her, wolf?"

"My problem." Matthias moved to peer over Jonas's shoulder at the monitors that recorded the hotel's security, tracked personnel, and alarms.

"No alarms." Jonas moved between the monitors using keyboard commands. "Your entrance or exit wasn't recorded or seen. We're in the clear."

Jonas turned in his chair, and Matthias retreated to rest his back against the wall of the van, as Jonas stared down at Grace's unconscious form.

"Why didn't you kill her?" Jonas repeated Simon's question dispassionately. "If she was in Albrecht's suite this late, then she was a part of him."

Matthias stared back at him coldly. "I won't reward her help by snapping her neck."

"Then I will," Jonas decided, moving as though to do just that.

Matthias lifted his lip in a growl, causing Jonas to pause.

"Matthias, she's a risk. She can identify you and place the weapon in your hand. What other choice do you have?" Slashing quicksilver eyes clashed with Matthias's gaze.

"I'll take care of the situation."

"And when she's reported missing? I managed to have her vehicle picked up by one of my enforcers, but she only had a weeks vacation. What then?"

Matthias shifted his gaze from Jonas's to Grace's face. Her features were relaxed, her dove gray eyes closed. Rosebud lips were softened, and her creamy flesh was pale.

He had terrified her, but there hadn't been time for gentleness.

"I'll take responsibility for her," he stated firmly.

"And when she reports what she saw?" Jonas asked, his voice hard. "When she reports that a Breed, a known associate of the Bureau of Breed Affairs killed Dr. Albrecht. What then, Matthias? You're risking the whole community, not just yourself."

"Touch her, and I'll kill you next," Mathias growled, a hard rumble of violence that had the tension in the van spiking to heated levels. "Think about harming her, and I'll kill you."

"Then hide her." Jonas shrugged. "And hide her well, wolf, because if she even breathes the truth of tonight's events, I'll make sure she never takes another breath."

* * *

JONAS watched, several hours later, as Matthias loaded his conscious, bound and gagged little burden into the folded-back front seat, secured her into place, and drove away.

He leaned against the outside of the van and grinned, hell if he could help it. Sometimes, his people just amazed him, especially those who hadn't yet heard the truth of the mating heat, or the first signs of it.

Common sense was the first casualty to the heat, and he almost regretted letting the Wolf Breed drive away to parts unknown. It would have been fun as hell to watch.

"He's gonna mate her," Simon drawled from inside the van. "That look in his eye was impossible to mistake. I thought he was going to rip my throat out when I suggested breaking her neck."

"He came close." Jonas smirked.

"You should have warned him," Lawe sighed.

"You should have had him dragged back to Sanctuary for those stupid tests," Rule snarled. "If they don't find a cure for that shit, I'm never going to fuck again. It's starting to give me the jeebies."

Jonas chuckled. "We need to understand it, you can forget about curing it. Besides, Ely and the Wolf Breed scientists have enough victims. No sense in adding a new pair to the mix."

"And if he can't convince her to keep her mouth shut?" Simon voiced the question rolling around in Jonas's head. He grimaced at the thought of the answer to it.

"Track him," he ordered the other man. "If he can't convince her not to talk, then we'll have to."

Permanently if necessary. He'd hate it. It would sicken his soul, but he had done worse to see to the Breeds' survival, and he was certain he would do so again. Shedding innocent blood would add to the nightmares, though, and that he wasn't anticipating. As far as Jonas was concerned, he had enough nightmares to fight.

CHAPTER TWO

She should have changed out of the short black skirt and white blouse she wore to work. She should have worn jeans. Pants, anything but the leg-flattering little skirt she was so fond of. Because it was now around her thighs. So indecently around her thighs that Grace felt herself flushing.

And while she was considering her recent mistakes, she should have let someone know she had returned. Checked in. Put off dealing with Albrecht's complaints. Anything but what she had ended up doing.

But she just had to come back for that stupid little bathing suit she had stuffed in the pocket of her jacket. And when she had, Mr. Albrecht's message had been flashing on her machine. Irate. Demanding action over some slight by the staff.

She had listened to the message, erased it, because she was anal about stuff like that, and then had gone to Albrecht's suite. That had been her biggest mistake.

The door had been slightly open, but Albrecht was known for that kind of absentmindedness. He was so arrogantly certain no one would dare attack him under the eagle eye of the security cameras that he ignored every precaution. Security had warned him repeatedly that they could not ensure his safety if he didn't stop leaving the suite door open. Normally, one of the security personnel contacted his bodyguards in the other room and had them do it. Tonight, security hadn't taken care of it. Which meant they were updating the security system. Which meant the damned system, as well as the backup, was off-line. Which meant no one knew what the fuck had happened to her!

Ten minutes. The system had been off-line for ten freaking stupid minutes, and one of their most influential residents was dead.

It didn't matter that he was an asshole. He was still dead. And Matthias had killed him.

Her breath hitched as she battled the tears filling her eyes. The man she had fallen in love with was a killer.

She glanced over at him.

His expression was imposing in the low lights from the dash. The wicked scar that slashed over his forehead, across his eye, then to the center of his cheek was hidden from her view. His profile revealed only the dark curve and slash of arrogant bones, the arch of black brows. Thick, coarse black hair, as dark as night, flowed down his neck and was caught at the nape of his neck with some sort of elastic band.

Broad shoulders and a body so tight and hard it gave a girl damp panties. He was dressed in his customary black leather pants, shit-kicker boots, a T-shirt, and black leather jacket.

The gloves he had worn on his hands had been black as well. They were gone now.

And to top it all off, he was a Wolf Breed. Powerful, charismatic, scarred, and dangerous. All the things that made a girl's heart go thump in the night.

And he was a killer.

She flinched as his hand moved, then drew in a shaky breath as the gag was removed from her mouth. He didn't stop to untie her, or to release the restraints holding her to the lowered seat. But at least she could speak now.

"Just how damned stupid are you?" The words broke past her lips before she could think. "You should have killed me back at the hotel, because I swear to God I'm going to watch you fry."

She tried to tear herself loose, jerking and writhing against the bonds furiously.

"Keep it up, and I'm going to see more than just those pretty thighs, Grace." His husky voice had her stilling, her gaze jerking to where he was glancing at her thighs before looking down her body.

"Oh yeah, as if you haven't already made certain you could see more," she yelled, flushing at the knowledge that her skirt had ridden to the crotch of her panties. Her damp panties. "What are you going to do now, rape me before you kill me?"

He stared down at her with whiskey colored eyes. Those eyes almost mesmerized her.

"If I intended to kill you, I wouldn't rape you first," he promised her mockingly. "Somehow, that just reeks of foul play."

"And murder doesn't?" She gasped in outrage.

"Albrecht was a member of the Genetics Council." The sound of his voice, low, husky, nearing another of those dangerous growls she had heard just before he grabbed her, had her flinching. "That wasn't a murder, Grace, it was an act of mercy."

She stared back at him in shock.

"He was a mean old man," she admitted in disbelief. "But he couldn't have been part of the Genetics Council any longer. He was so absentminded he forgot to close his stupid doors. If he had been a member, he had likely forgotten it by now. Which makes it murder."

She hated liars.

"You were using me all along." Fury filled her at the thought. "Was the mugging a set up, too? A way to get on the stupid manager's good side? Is that what it was? And here I didn't even get a mercy fuck for my trouble."

He hadn't wanted to be seen with her, she had thought it was because of her plain looks. He said it was because he was a Breed, he didn't want to see her hurt. It hadn't been. It had been because right there in her living room, shoved into her little bookcase, was all the information he would have needed to get to Albrecht.

But how had they known when the security would be off-line? And was it just Matthias, or were there others?

"I have your luggage in the back," he told her, obviously gritting his teeth. "Your car has been taken care of."

"Should I thank you?"

He ignored her again.

"I liked the thought of joining you at the cabin. I checked the place out last week. It's a nice little place. I thought I'd escort you up there, maybe stay a while. Discuss some things with you."

Her breath stilled in her lungs. The cabin was by a lake. He could drown her there, and no one would ever know what had happened to her.

He was going to kill her. She had been falling in love with the man that was going to murder her. Now this was just a hellacious ending to a perfectly fucked up love life.

Her father had been right all along. Grace had finally jumped into something that was going to get her killed. He had been predicting it since she was four and she climbed her first tree. Now, it seemed it was going to happen.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Grace."

"Oh yeah, that's why I'm trussed up like a Christmas turkey and heading to a conveniently out-of-the-way cabin." She had to fight pack her tears. "Does that mean you're going to just kill me fast?"

Oh man, she had really stepped into it this time. Wasn't she the one wishing for adventure, just a few months ago? Surely she wasn't the one that had taken one look at Matthias after he rescued her from a mugging and thought he was some kind of dark, sexy knight. He wasn't a knight, he was a monster.

Yeah. He wasn't going to hurt her. He was just going to let her waltz right into the police department and identify him as Albrecht's assassin and wish her good luck with the future. Uh huh. She could see that happening.

"Damn, you're melodramatic, do you know that?" He slanted her a look from the corner of those sexy, exotic eyes of his, and her stomach clutched at the look.

He looked at her like that a lot. Like a man with sex on his mind, but he had yet to touch her, to kiss her. That look was as much a lie as everything else about him had ever been.

"I tend to get that way when I see harmless old men assassinated and I get kidnapped. It has a decidedly melodramatic effect on my life, Matthias."

He glanced at her again. But not at her face. Once more, his gaze slid to her thighs.

"Yeah, I can see where that would be upsetting." His gaze finally slid to her face. "But I said I wouldn't hurt you."

"Like you said my mugger was gutter trash," she retorted. "Tell me Matthias, was that a setup?"

He jerked his head to face forward, his expression tightening, as she stomped her feet into the floor of the vehicle.

"Damn you. Damn you. Damn you." The curses were throttled screams, as she then slammed her head back against her seat. "Let me go! Just let me go, so I can kill you myself."

She had been terrified. Terrified and so damned grateful to the man who had saved her that she had overlooked every sign that he was trouble. And the signs were there. The diamond glittering in his left ear. The scar on his face. The tattoo she had glimpsed on his bicep, the nipple ring, the faint outline of which she had seen beneath his T-shirt.

He looked like a thug, but he carried himself with such supreme confidence, such arrogance, that every stupid feminine instinct she had possessed had been drawn to him.

"Your mugger is gutter trash," he finally muttered.

"So you didn't set that up?"

"I didn't set it up."

Her gaze narrowed. "Was it set up for you?"

"I had to find a way to make you trust me, quickly," he admitted. "That was the only way."

Anger vied with fear. Damn him, there wasn't a chance he could let her live. She might as well go down letting him know exactly what she thought of him. She'd already watched him blow another man's head off. It wasn't like it could get much worse.

"You lied to me." She gritted her teeth in fury, surprised at how much it hurt.

"I didn't lie to you, Grace," he finally sighed. "I stretched a few truths and didn't tell you exactly why I was there."

"You used me to kill a man."

"I rid the world of a monster, and I'll prove it to you," he said. "What you do after that, is up to you."

"And if I go straight to the police?" Of course she would go straight to the police. Was there any question of it?

"Then I'll do everything in my power to protect you." The regret that shimmered in his voice had her chest tightening. "But once I'm behind bars, others will kill you. I won't be able to save you then."

He was lying to her again, of course.

"Grace. Give me a chance." His hand lowered from the steering wheel to her knee. The shock of his calloused, scarred hand against her bare flesh for the first time sent a riot of sensation cascading through her.

It was his hand, for God's sake. On her knee. It wasn't like it was tucked between her thighs.

"I gave you a chance." She tried to jerk away from him, but his hand only tightened, holding her bound legs in place. "And look where it got me. More lies. And more threats. No thank you, Matthias, I think I've trusted you too much already."

CHAPTER THREE

Matthias felt his fingers tighten on the fragile width of her knee and forced himself to relax. He wouldn't hurt her, and he didn't want to frighten her further.

Already the scent of her fear was nearly overpowering the soft, subtle scent of the arousal that filled her each time he was near her.

It was one of the reasons he had rarely touched her over the past weeks. He had kept his distance as much as possible, knowing that until he had dealt with Albrecht, he didn't have the time to deal with what he knew was coming with Grace.

Jonas thought it was such a closely guarded secret that Wolfe Gunnar, the leader of the Wolf Packs, adhered to the strict order of silence on the subject of mating heat. But Wolfe wasn't a fool. He knew his enforcers were a danger to themselves if they weren't aware of what could happen at the most unlikely moment.

Matthias knew what mating heat was, just as he knew that Grace was his mate.

The glands beneath his tongue had been sensitive for weeks, and he could feel them becoming swollen tonight. Those glands were filling with a mating aphrodisiac, a hormone that would push sensuality, sexuality, into the bounds of extremity.

It would affect Grace worse than it would affect him. She would be unable to deny her natural response to him, unable to hide from it. She would be as helpless within it as he would be once he began touching her.

The fine, almost imperceptible little hairs along his body were prickling with another hormone, one more subtle, but no less intense. His cock was rock hard. His balls were drawn tight. And he had learned in the past week that jacking off only made it worse. There would be no satisfaction until he found his release within the snug depths of Grace's body.

And there the problems would truly begin. If what Wolfe, Jacob, and Aiden had explained to their enforcers months ago were true, then during his mating with Grace, he would become more of an animal than he could have ever imagined.

Even now, as his fingers lingered on the flesh of her knee, he found a pleasure in that small touch that he had never known before. Even in the midst of the most sexual acts he had performed during his sexual training in the labs, he hadn't felt such pleasure as he did now in simply touching.

He was one of the younger Breeds. Barely thirty, but he hadn't escaped that phase of training. Not that the scientists had included sexual training for any pleasurable benefits. As in everything else, even that phase of training had held more sinister purposes.

When entranced by their lover, a man or a woman could be convinced to trade their soul for the love of the one capable of giving them such extreme pleasure. Powerful figures could be blackmailed, the sons and daughters of such figures could be used for information. Wives could be seduced, husbands could be tempted. It was all the same to the council. Every weakness could be exploited.

In the years since his release, Matthias had never used the talent he had found to please a woman, to betray one. Until Grace, he had refused to involve any woman in the dangerous, bloody life he led.

He was an assassin. The council had taught him how to be an assassin. He carried the scars from his failed attempts during training, and he carried the marks of his successes since his escape.

He didn't kill for money, and he didn't kill from hatred or greed. He killed for mercy. He killed to make the world a safer place, not just for his own species, but for the non-Breeds as well.

Council members, scientists, trainers, and soldiers—many had been released once they were revealed. If they were smart, they lived the rest of their lives without picking up their old ties. If they weren't, then Matthias or one of his kind made house calls. And there were many who eagerly, if more secretly, renewed those old ties.

He had gotten lucky with Albrecht, though. He was impossible to forget. And Matthias just happened to have been at the right place at the right time, before the Breed rescues ten years before. He had seen Albrecht with several scientists, heard the scientists refer to him as "director." Only council members were given that distinction.

Matthias had remembered, and he had given the bastard a chance. A chance Albrecht had deliberately ignored. The proof of that was in the bloody, broken bodies of the mated Breed pairs he had managed to capture over the past years. Young Breeds, independent. Rather than seeking the Wolf or Lion Breed compounds when mating heat overtook them, they had tried to figure it out on their own. And they had died in the effort.

The horrifying evidence that Albrecht was once again experimenting with Breeds was too much to ignore, and Matthias had been called in.

He had used Grace to make his house call, and gaining her forgiveness wouldn't be easy.

"Where are we?" She finally asked wearily, staring up at the ceiling of the SUV, trying to hide her response to his touch.

"We're about two hours from your cabin," he told her softly, enjoying the feel of her satiny knee and the flesh in the curve of her leg against his fingertips.

"You researched me well then," she said, fighting to control her breathing.

The scent of her arousal was growing. The glands in his tongue were thickening. He should stop touching her, he should place both hands on the steering wheel and concentrate on driving the vehicle rather than driving them both crazy with lust.

"I researched you for months," he admitted. "I followed you at night when you jogged and tracked your movements otherwise. You were under surveillance for nearly six months."

He hurt her. He could smell the scent of her inner pain, and he hated it.

"Why did you choose me? Why not the head of security? Or the head manager? Why a lowly assistant manager with limited power?"

He snorted at that. "You mean the lazy manager who has shifted all the work, responsibility, and information to your shoulders, while claiming the fruits of your labor?" He asked. "I didn't have to smell the laziness on that woman to know the truth of her. All I had to do was read the file that had been prepared on her."

"How did you know Albrecht would be here during the security upgrade?"

"I have my sources." He shrugged.

"How many of you are working together?"

Matthias flashed her a grin. "How many of us did you see?"

"You had help," she bit out. "How else did you manage to get my luggage or have my car moved? You couldn't have done this alone."

"I kill alone and this is all that matters." He wouldn't tell her different. There was always a chance she wasn't the person he thought she was, and he didn't dare betray the others. "Stop asking me questions, Grace. We'll talk when we get to the cabin."

"Stop touching me then. And I swear to God, if your fingers go any higher, the first chance I get I'm cutting them off your hand."

His hand had slid higher, inches above her knee, and despite the vehemence of her order, she was enjoying it. The smell of her arousal was now covering that of her fear. The air around him was indolent with the scent of a wicked storm. He could feel the wild pulse of her blood beneath her flesh, and he knew it matched his own.

"I've been dying to touch you, Grace," he finally admitted. "Holding back these past weeks has been hell on my control."

"Well isn't that just too damned bad," she snapped, though he could hear the breathlessness, the hunger inside her. "Because you don't have a chance in hell now. Unless it's rape you're after, big boy, you fucked up when you pulled that trigger. I wouldn't sleep with you now if all that mating heat crap the tabloids printed were true."

He almost winced. Those tabloids had no clue. And neither did she. Because he would have her, and by the time the mating heat was finished with them, they would both be begging for it.

* * *

SHE couldn't believe this mess. She couldn't believe Matthias had actually killed, in cold blood. He hadn't even given Dr. Albrecht a warning.

She shuddered at the memory of it. The memory of his face, so dispassionate. There had been no anger, no fury, it hadn't even been emotionless really. Just unconcerned. What he had done had caused not so much as a flinch of remorse.

How many others had he killed? Would he kill her the same way?

Grace turned her face away from him and stared at the door of the SUV. The seat was reclined fully: that, in combination with the dark night and the rural area they were driving through, left her completely out of site.

She was stretched out, bound, helpless. Most women would have been begging for their lives, screaming, crying. She was trying to think instead. To wait. To steal a chance to escape. If one came.

She had a feeling one wouldn't come. And begging would do her no good. It wouldn't have done Albrecht any good, either.

She had been falling in love with Matthias, and perhaps that was the part that hurt the most. They had spent most of her breaks sharing coffee in her small office, and the evenings enjoying quiet dinners together, or long walks in the park.

He fascinated her. Drew her. Knowing what he was, the horrors he had experienced had pricked at her heart, and her woman's heart had wanted to erase those horrors with softness.

She had even told her family about him. About the Wolf Breed whose eyes were so filled with loneliness. Who smiled as though he hadn't known he could do so. Who watched her in a way no other man ever had. Her father had wanted to meet him. Her mother wanted to cook for him. Her brothers offered to teach him to play football.

She blinked back her tears at the loss. At both their losses. He had no idea what he was missing out on when he lost her family.

She liked to say she was fully a part of reality, and reality demanded that she accept that Matthias wasn't just going to let her go. He couldn't afford to. The whole Breed community would suffer for what he had done tonight, if the authorities ever learned of it. And Grace was well aware of his loyalty to not just the pack he claimed as his own, but to the Breeds in general.

She closed her eyes as she felt his fingertips stroking her leg again. His palms were horribly scarred, the faint ridges from those past wounds rasped over her flesh, and her soul. They brought pleasure and pain. Pleasure from his touch, pain at the knowledge of all he had endured.

She thought she had gotten to know him. She knew he could kill. He'd told her of some of the assignments he had been sent on during his time in the labs. She'd known he had killed since then in the confines of the investigative work he did. She hadn't imagined he could kill in cold blood, though. Shooting a man from the behind, without warning, somehow seemed worse than killing one face-to-face.

She knew there were rumors that Albrecht had been part of the Genetics Council. Rumors that he had ordered deaths, worked on the genetic alterations, and perhaps even been a part of what the press called the twelve-member directorate. He had been the head of the Genetics Council—the shadowy figures that financed, directed, and oversaw each stage of the Breed development.

All Grace had ever seen was a mean, disillusioned old man, though. One that didn't even have the common sense to close the door to his suite and who was constantly searching for his appointment journal.

If the rumors were true, he should have been arrested rather than released after the inquest into the Breed atrocities. He shouldn't have been killed the way he was.

"Grace, the smell of your fear is killing me." His voice was soft, gentle. "I promise, I'm not going to hurt you."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" She turned her head to stare back at him, seeing the flash of somber regret in his gaze before he turned back to look at the road.

"You will believe it," he said, his voice as heavy with regret now as his gaze had been. "But you won't die. Not by my hand, or by any others, as long as I can protect you."

"What? You think you can make me forget what I saw?" She hated the tears in her voice, but even more, she hated the damned disillusionment. She hated looking at him and fighting herself to believe what she had seen with her own eyes.

"Not forget it," he admitted. "I'm hoping, though, that you'll understand it enough to keep the knowledge of it to yourself."

He was crazy. That was all there was to it.

"Oh, well, if that's all you want, then I'm all for it." Living was worth lying for. "Let me go now, and mum's the word. I promise."

He flashed her a chiding smile.

"I can smell your lie as easily as I can smell your arousal, Grace. Have you forgotten that?"

Her eyes widened. Cream flooded her pussy and wept to her labial folds, rushing to surround her clit. That little bundle of nerves was pulsing now, engorged and swollen. The sound of his voice was rasping, filled with male lust and determined aggression.

"Yon never mentioned the arousal part," she gasped.

"I didn't, did I?" His fingers slid higher on her thigh, and, traitorously weak, her legs trembled, her breathing became rougher, and her juices thicker.

His fingers grazed the damp crotch of her panties, and Grace heard the low, weak moan that betrayed her slip past her lips.

"The scent of your arousal has made me crazy." His voice deepened, as a growl rumbled in his chest. The sound should have frightened her; it turned her on instead.

Sensation was humming through her body, tingling in her clit and her nipples, making her gaze heavy as his fingers continued to brush lightly against the damp cotton of her panties. That slow, deliberate caress held her spellbound.

He was using the hand that had held the gun that killed Albrecht. But it wasn't death she felt. And it wasn't disgust. It was pleasure. A hot, insidious pleasure that held her mesmerized.

"Matthias, this is wrong." She wanted to tell him to stop, but the words wouldn't push past her lips. "Don't do this to me. Please."

"You do it to me, Grace," he accused her darkly. "Each touch you've given me, no matter how innocent, made me weak. Made me hard. I've been so damned distracted by you, my head so filled with the memory of your scent that I didn't know when you entered that suite. I should have known. I should have sensed you and been able to pull back. To hide until you were gone. But you were already so much a part of me, that I carry you with me, whether you're actually there or not."

The SUV slowed. It didn't stop, but it was definitely slowing as he glanced at her. A second later he jerked his gaze back to the road, but his hand didn't leave her, his fingers didn't pause in their caresses.

The implications of his declaration seared her mind. There were rumors, tabloid tales and obscure reports of Breed mates. Mates that were rarely photographed, rarely seen by journalists. It was said that in the ten years since the Breeds had been revealed, that the mates to those Breeds hadn't aged. Tabloids ran stories almost weekly of a sexual frenzy during what they called "mating heat." And then there were the wild tales of orgies and animalistic behavior.

There were also stories of other animalistic occurrences. Reports that the Breeds' sexuality was closer to that of their animal cousins than that of humans. Feline Breed males, were said to lock inside their females during ejaculation, with a penile extension just beneath the head of the cock, referred to as a barb. And as for the Wolves…

Grace stared at Matthias's taut profile. Wolves were supposed to lock within a female with a heavy swelling known as the knot.

It couldn't be true. She'd scoffed at the stories then, and she refused to believe them now.

But she couldn't refuse to believe the heavy, lethargic arousal overcoming her. He was barely stroking her, his fingers were but a slight pressure against the covering of her panties, and still, it made her too weak to protest. And the cotton covering was becoming damper by the second with her juices.

"You need to stop," she whispered, her lashes fluttering with sharply rising need. "Please, Matthias…"

CHAPTER FOUR

Grace's family cabin sat in the Catskill Mountains northwest of New York City. The heavily forested area called to the wildness of Matthias's spirit. The sounds of the night wrapped around him, but the scent of Grace filled his mind.

The two-story cabin sat next to a small, unpolluted lake. The crisp scent of the water was refreshing, the sound of a waterfall played somewhere in the distance. It should have been relaxing. It would have been, if the fever to take his mate weren't filling his insides with a burning hunger.

He sat his restrained captive in a wide, padded porch chair and dug the keys from her purse. She glared at him, her tapered, dark blonde hair falling over her brow and shadowing her eyes.

The door opened easily. Matthias inhaled deeply, searching for any scent other than that of an empty cabin. Satisfied that they were alone, he picked her up, carried her to the heavily cushioned couch, and left the cabin again.

He carried her luggage and his bag to the large downstairs bedroom then checked the well-stocked cabinets and refrigerator. Once he had assured himself of the security of the cabin, he disconnected the phone lines, locked the front door, and turned back to her.

Grace remained silent. And she was still aroused. He could smell the arousal, and it was killing him. But he could also smell her fear and her anger. She had judged him the moment she saw him pull that trigger, and if she had her way, he'd be locked up forever.

It was a heavy burden, to understand the event from her viewpoint. Her innocence couldn't understand the conditions under which the Breeds had been trained, the forces that had shaped their lives from conception to escape. The nightmares were nearly as brutal as the reality of it had been. Even now, ten years later, Matthias could feel the agony of those years.

"Why did you do it, Matthias?" When she spoke, her voice was agonized, filled with tears and disillusionment. She had already tried him and found him guilty.

Matthias knelt in front of the couch, his hands moving to the restraints that bound her hands and feet, his fingers massaging the slight welts on her flesh as he frowned down at them.

The beatings, the hours of mental torture, and the deaths. Imprisoned behind bars and forced to watch as friends and littermates were murdered with such brutal means, that even now, Matthias had trouble sleeping for the horrific memories.

All in the name of training. Of numbing the Breeds to the sight of pain, cruelty, and death. Turning them into emotionless machines that responded at the councilmembers' beckoning.

"I was created in Albrecht's lab," he finally answered her, lifting his head to stare back at her. "I know his cruelties. I know the monster he was." He lifted his hands from her flesh and stared at the palms. The scars that crisscrossed them had been put there by Albrecht's knife. A punishment for a failed mission.

"He was released after the hearings about Breed atrocities. You had no right to kill him after that."

His gaze jerked back to hers. "He was released on his oath that he was not a part of the council directorate, which I know was a lie. He was released on his oath that he would never again attempt to create or imprison Breeds. Ten years ago, he was released. And he never stopped. We found the bodies, his scent covered them as well as the marks of his abuse. He never stopped."

To know they hadn't found all the Breeds, even in the ten years of searching was like a poison in Matthias's soul. The council scientists and soldiers who had escaped had taken the young with them and turned them over to the Council, to be hidden in other, even more secret labs. And now those children, ten years older, were turning up dead, horribly tortured. The experimentation that had been done on them was brutal. But even worse were the mated pairs, those that had known freedom for but a short time, recaptured, and tortured to death.

"We were the test models. The first generation of Breeds to actually survive the first few years of life are barely older than forty. They had their first success nearly a century ago—Lion Breed who managed to escape with one of their scientists. But it took them another several decades to get it right again, because the first Leo destroyed everything in that hellhole of a lab as he escaped. We were the disposable models." Fury twisted his expression. "Imagine watching your friends, your brothers and sisters being dissected, live. Being beaten until they died, broken and still trying to fight. Or so drugged they were no more than the animals whose genes they carried. I watched Albrecht do this. For years. For so many years." He pushed his fingers through his hair and moved away from her.

The blood. He could still smell the blood and death.

"Had he finished, I would have walked away from him, as I was ordered to do." He turned back to her, his eyes narrowing on the tense set of her expression. "I would not have killed him, Grace, had he not continued those atrocities."

"You should have gone to the authorities."

"The authorities had their chance. I took care of it. He will never rape another young Breed. He will never dissect another while they scream in agony, and he will never, ever attempt to prolong his own misbegotten life because he lucked out and found a mated Breed pair."

That had been the final nail in his coffin. They had found the bodies. The two young mates, so horribly mutilated, the signs of experimentation so monstrous, that even he and Jonas had thrown up.

"That doesn't make sense. What would two lovers have to do with prolonging his life? You're lying to me, Matthias. Don't do that."

Matthias shook his head. It would do no good to argue it with her—until she experienced the mating, she would never believe it.

"One of these days, you'll know the truth," he said heavily. "Are you hungry? I could fix us something to eat."

Grace stared back at him in disbelief. One moment he was talking of death, the next he was willing to cook? She shook her head as she moved, tugging her skirt farther over her thighs, before shrugging her restrictive jacket off.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked. "You promised not to hurt me."

He nodded. "I won't hurt you."

"Even knowing I have every intention of telling the police what I saw?" She couldn't lie to him. He would smell it.

The hurt that flashed in his eyes shouldn't have bothered her, but it did.

"Even knowing that," he answered. "I'm going to spend this week with you. Let you come to know me better. Try to make you understand…"

"Why?" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "What does it matter if I understand or not? You murdered a man, Matthias."

"And if you report it, and I'm arrested, then I can't protect you. Other Breeds will come for you, and they will kill you before you ever have the chance to testify. Is that what you want? Do you want to die?"

"The authorities will protect me."

"Don't be so fucking naive, Grace," he snarled, causing her to flinch. "Don't be stupid. You know better than that."

Yes, she did know better. She knew she didn't have a chance at living if she ever breathed a word of what she had seen. Perhaps, in some small way, she could even understand why he had done it.

Now that the shock had worn off and her mind had accepted the fact that he had done it. It was her own anger driving her instead.

"Just leave then." She rose to her feet and breathed out roughly. "I'm smart enough to know the rules, Matthias. That doesn't mean I ever want to see you again. Just get out."

"It doesn't work that way." He shook his head, his whiskey gaze remote.

"Why not? You can smell a lie, then fine, you know I'm not lying. Albrecht may have deserved every agony you could have possibly given him, but I can't accept it. We have laws in this country for a reason."

His bark of laughter shocked her. "Do you, now?" He crossed his powerful arms over his chest and watched her, mocking. "Let me tell you about your laws, little girl. Laws that allowed all your fine politicians to stick their dirty little fingers into the Breed pie before the world learned of us. How they sent their special-forces teams after the small pride that was hiding in Kentucky. How they turned a blind eye to the tortures that were inflicted on us. Until the world learned of us and drew a horrified breath. Those same fucking bastards faked their outrage and had no choice but to back us. Back us or be revealed as the lying sons of bitches they were."

Throttled rage filled his voice and glowed in his eyes. Grace had never seen such fury, such banked violence in anyone, in her life.

There were reports of this. News articles and documentaries, but until now, Grace hadn't been certain what was the truth and what were lies told to enhance the popularity of the Breeds' right-to-life laws.

She licked her lips, knowing he wasn't lying. Her chest ached for him, ached about the pain he had endured. But he had killed an unarmed man. Without remorse.

She nodded, swallowing tightly as she let his furious gaze capture hers.

"I won't report it," she whispered. "But I won't condone it. Whatever was growing between us, Matthias, if anything other than your need to use me was there, is over. Please, just leave."

"It's not going to happen."

Grace watched his expression harden, his eyes darken in determination.

"What do you mean, 'it's not going to happen?'" She watched him warily.

Had he been lying to her? Did he mean to kill her after all?

A tight smile curled his lips. "I already smell your distrust," he growled. "I don't lie, Grace. I'm not going to kill you. And I won't torture you."

"Then why stay?"

"Because you own me now. You're my mate."

CHAPTER FIVE

Grace stared back at the wild man standing in the middle of the cabin's living room. Dressed in black leather and facing her with an arrogant determination that had once appeared sexy. Now it was downright scary.

"What do you mean, I'm your mate?" The tabloid stories were rocking through her head, and she really didn't have time right now for the perversions they had reported.

She should have known better than to read that trash. But, like most Americans, she had been fascinated with the discovery of the Breeds. Fascinated and outraged by their creation and the horrifying abuses they had endured.

But, did he answer her? Hell no. He shook his head slowly, his lips curling at one corner, as he continued to watch her with those dark golden eyes. And he kept inhaling slowly, reminding her that she was still wet. So wet from his earlier play that her panties were literally clinging to her pussy.

"Matthias, right now is really not a good time to pull the silent Breed act on me," she snapped. "I'm about two minutes from a nervous breakdown. This has not been a good night for me."

Instantly his expression altered. From arrogance to sensual delight. His facial features softened as he moved toward her, his arms dropping from his chest, his shoulders flexing as he drew the black leather jacket from them. He tossed it to the couch as he neared her.

Grace took a step back. The sensuality in his gaze made her even more wary than the earlier anger had.

"Don't touch me," she ordered him roughly.

"Poor Grace," he crooned, a hint of a rumble in his voice sending a shiver racing down her spine as he moved behind her. "Yes love, it's been a very hard night for you. Seeing your mate for what he is, for who he is, hasn't been easy." She felt his breath on her hair, then his hand as he smoothed it over her shoulder. "I had hoped to ease you into it."

"Ease me into what?" She tried to jerk away, but the hand that suddenly gripped her hip wasn't allowing that to happen. "Into murder? Not going to happen."

"Into this."

Her knees nearly buckled as his lips brushed across the nape of her neck, a hint of the damp warmth of his tongue stroking along it.

"Stop it, Matthias. You can't seduce me into approving what you've done."

"I don't care if you approve of me, Grace. I only care that you accept me."

Oh my God. His teeth raked over her neck.

Grace blinked, fought to clear her vision and to remain on her feet. Because that little scrape of his extended canines did nothing to return her common sense. On the contrary, it only dampened her panties further.

"Get away from me." She tore from his clasp, turning to face him furiously, fighting her arousal and the drugging pleasure his touch brought. "I don't want you to touch me."

"You're body is begging for my touch." He grinned as he sat down on the couch and began removing his boots.

"What are you doing? Put those back on." Shock dumbfounded her. He had murdered a man in front of her, and now he was undressing? As though it were normal?

"Come on, Grace." He flashed her a seductive smile. "I'm tired, and you're snarling. Let's take tonight to rest, and tomorrow we'll revisit this little disagreement."

"Little disagreement? You killed a man."

"He wasn't a man." Matthias shrugged as he set his boots to the side. "He was a monster."

"That doesn't make it right."

"And it doesn't make it wrong, either," he sighed, his expression flickering with regret. "It doesn't make the need for it any less. I don't have to like what I do to realize the fact that it has to be done. Now, let's go find the bed and try to rest."

He gripped her wrist and began drawing her through the house.

"I'm not sleeping with you."

"Fine, I'll sleep with you."

He tugged her behind him like a recalcitrant child, tugging at her arm and drawing her into the bedroom before locking the door behind them.

"Matthias, stop this." Frustration, fear, and arousal converged inside her as he finally released her. "You can't believe there's any way to fix this. Surely you can't."

She couldn't let him believe it could be fixed. The past weeks were over. They were gone. She would never forget the look on his face as he killed, and she couldn't forget how easily he had done it.

He pulled her suitcase from the bed and laid it on the nearby chair. Her frilly, girly bedroom had never held a man as intensely sexual and powerful as this one. He filled it with testosterone and stubbornness to the point that she was nearly choking on it.

"I'll find a way to fix it." He opened the suitcase and drew out the plain white, long summer gown and robe she had packed.

"Matthias." She stared back at him in confusion. "You're more logical than this." How could any one man be so stubborn? "You know you can't fix this."

"I know I don't have a choice." The gown and robe were flung at her, causing her to catch them in surprise as he stared back at her with furious intent. "What I found with you is too important, Grace. I won't let this destroy it."

She shook her head slowly. "It was destroyed the minute you pulled that trigger."

"The minute I made certain another Breed never died. The minute I ended the agony for untold mates in the future that he would have captured. The minute I fucking destroyed a nightmare," he snarled. "I should do as you ask and fucking walk away from you now, because by God, you have to be the most judgmental, self-righteous creature I have ever known."

Grace's lips parted in shock. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" He flicked her a hard, heated look, his lips curling in a little half sneer. "What did you do when you learned of the lives the Breeds led? When you read your little news report on your PDA and went about your life? Did you think, Oh, poor creatures? Did you even download the pictures of those labs they found? Did you even take the time to see what those sons of a bitches did?"

She hadn't. The reports alone had given her nightmares. She couldn't bear to see the pictures. And now, she felt ashamed of that.

"Live through it, then tell me how wrong I was," he snapped. "Watch your baby sister die beneath the rutting of soldiers. See your friends, those you call family, die screaming in agony, and then tell me you wouldn't have done the same."

She could see it in his face, in his eyes, and it broke her heart. She had to blink back her tears, force her lips not to tremble as she thought of the horror he had faced in ways she never had.

The scars he carried, the shadowed horror that sometimes reflected in his eyes, the bleak, hollow sound of his voice.

"I'm so sorry, Matthias," she whispered huskily, clutching the gown to her chest. "What you endured was hell. But you are not a judge and jury."

"No, I'm the executioner." He stood before her without remorse. "He had already been judged and his sentence was passed. I merely carried it out. Now get that fucking gown on and get your ass into bed before I lose what little control I have tonight."

With that, he stalked from the bedroom. Even in bare feet he seemed to stomp, his steps heavy, fury pulsing in every line of his body before the door slammed behind him.

Grace sat on the bed slowly, staring at the closed panel, knowing, somehow, she had managed to do more than merely hurt him.

She stared at the gown, pushed her fingers through her hair wearily, then rose to her feet and did as he had ordered. She was exhausted. So tired she could barely think straight. Maybe tomorrow she could find a way to make sense of it. Maybe she would realize it had all been a horrible nightmare that would just go away.

The thought of escaping Matthias flitted through her mind. She should at least try. After all, she had seen him kill, he could still kill her.

As she drew the blankets over her shoulders and stared at the bedroom window, she knew she had at least a chance of escape. And yet here she lay, and she didn't know why.

All she knew was that as she stared into the darkness, all she could think about was the horror his life must have been. Never having anyone. Never being able to care for anyone. How alone he must have felt.

She had seen that loneliness in his eyes the night she thought he had saved her, during that stupid staged mugging. She had dragged him into the hotel with her and made him drink coffee with her. He had watched her as others might watch a snake, expecting her to strike at any time.

He had touched her heart that night, with the scar slashing across his forehead, over his eyelid, and onto his cheek. With his sexy, sensual lips and whiskey brown eyes, his obvious discomfort with a smile.

But she had made him smile that night. Not a whole, unbridled smile. A tentative smile, as though he were trying it out first, waiting to see if it was going to hurt.

Three weeks. He had come into her life just three weeks before, and he had become such a part of it that now she wondered how she was going to do without him.

She looked at the window again. She really should run from him.

A tear slid down her cheek instead, because she couldn't run from him. But she could never have him, either.

CHAPTER SIX

It wasn't a nightmare. The next morning Grace awoke to the knowledge that she couldn't just escape the events from the night before any more than she could escape Matthias, and she couldn't run from them.

She brushed her hair and teeth, stared at her pale reflection, then grimaced and headed to the kitchen. She could smell coffee, and she was dying for it. The need for caffeine was crawling through her system, with the same craving that desire for Matthias was clenching between her thighs.

Dreams had tormented her through the night. Dreams, nothing, she had been tormented with visions of sexual delights that had her blushing at the thought of them. She should have had nightmares of blood and death, not dreams about what that bulge beneath those black leather pants could do to her.

"Good morning." He came to his feet from the kitchen table, another pair of leather pants covering his muscular legs. His feet and chest were bare.

Grace stared at the broad, hairless chest, as she came to a sudden stop. She'd been wanting to see that nipple ring she had glimpsed under his T-shirt. Now that she was seeing it, her mouth watered, her lips tingled with the need to capture it, to tug on it.

But as sexy as the sight of it was, nothing could detract from the thin white scars that crisscrossed his chest and abdomen.

He pulled a shirt from the back of the chair and shrugged it on, covering the horrific scars. They weren't thick and ridged, but they crisscrossed his flesh like a road map.

"Sorry about that." He turned away from her, walking across the cheerful, bright kitchen, buttoning the black shirt. "I made coffee."

She couldn't help it. Grace moved quickly across the room, facing him as he turned back to her.

"I have to see it," she whispered, her fingers going to the buttons of his shirt. "All of it, Matthias. You don't have the right to hide it from me now."

His hard, sharply defined features tightened, as her fingers undid the buttons of his shirt. She pushed the cotton shirt from his wide shoulders, and tossed it over a chair.

"Did he do this?" she whispered, her fingertips touching the evidence of the cruelty he had experienced.

Some of the scars were older, almost invisible. Tough, darkly tinted flesh rippled under her touch, as he glared down at her.

"He enjoyed using the whip. The scientists needed to know under what conditions we couldn't fight or complete our objectives. We were put through a variety of simulations. Torture being the favorite of them all. If we didn't succeed in the objective given us, we died."

Her breath hitched in her throat, as tears flooded her eyes. She followed the scars on his chest, his side, then moved around him to stare at his back.

"Oh, God, Matthias." The scarring was worse on his back.

She leaned her forehead against his back, clenching her eyes tight at the incredible pain he must have endured.

"It doesn't hurt any longer, Grace," he assured her.

Grace lifted her head, her gaze going to his shoulders. On his left shoulder was the Breed marker. A genetic shadow of a paw print. Within that print, four blood-red teardrops had been tattooed into his flesh. Around the paw, a precise tattoo of what appeared to be dark smoke had been drawn, a single feather, tipped with blood, caught within it.

"Why this one?" She touched the bloodstained feather wrapped in wire.

"The price of submission," he growled.

"And this one?" A line of carefully disguised bones, wrapped in the same barbed wire, the wire twisting from the base of his spine to the middle of it.

"Friends who died for their freedom," he answered.

"And this?" She touched the blood red teardrops encased by smoke.

"The tattoo was made by a tribal medicine man. It's a protection symbol, to hold the evil within it from marking my soul." His voice was heavy, filled with pain.

"The teardrops are the evil?" She asked. "Why?"

"They mark each Council member I've killed."

Grace froze, her fingers trembling over the four markers.

"The larger one denotes a directorate member. The two medium-sized ones are scientists, the smallest are trainers. I don't bother to list the coyote soldiers, they aren't worth the need for protection." Disgust for those Breeds colored his voice.

"And Albrecht will add to it," she whispered. "What happens when you run out of room?"

"Then I return for another protected circle and begin again." His back tightened, as rage thrummed in his voice.

"And does it help the nightmares?" she asked, "or make them worse?"

Matthias stared over the room, his soul bleak at the sound of her voice. He could hear the pain and compassion in her voice, the need to understand. And despite the blood that stained his hands, all he could think about was touching her.

"Sometimes, it stills the nightmares," he answered, as he turned to her. "And sometimes, they only grow worse."

His hands gripped her shoulders, the softness of the cotton hiding the warmth of her flesh from him.

"Would you stop?" she asked.

Matthias could see the hope in her eyes, the innocence. That innocence alternately lightened his soul and weighed it down. He had never meant for her to know what he was, he had thought he could keep that part of what he did hidden after he claimed her.

Because he couldn't stop.

"We have other things to discuss," he said, rather than answering her. "We need to discuss us."

"There's no us, Matthias." The regret in her voice tore at him. "I won't report what I saw, but whatever we had is over."

She tried to move away from his touch. Despite the arousal he knew she felt, the tender feelings he knew hadn't died, still, she moved away from him.

Once she had come to him with a smile, her pretty eyes lighting up in pleasure. Now, her dove-gray eyes were dark and shadowed, knowing the truth of what he was.

"It doesn't work that way." He had to tell her the truth. He couldn't force her into the mating, as much as he wanted to. He couldn't pull her into it without her knowledge.

"Of course it works that way." Her lips turned down in a sad smile. "I decide who I sleep with."

"The mating changes that." He kept his voice low, gentle. "You can never just walk away now."

"Watch me." She tried to pull away again.

"How many nights can you handle, without me in your bed?" He asked as his grip tightened on her shoulders. "Without my touch? It's been building since the night we met, the need to touch, to kiss, to lie beneath me. Admit it."

"Once you're gone, I'll get over it." The confidence in her eyes was overshadowed by her arousal.

Matthias continued to touch her, his hands moving over her arms, sliding the robe past her shoulders, touching her bare skin, his fingertips lingering to relish the feel of warm silk.

"It won't go away, it will be there. It will become worse some nights, easier others, because we've never kissed. Because my lips haven't touched your flesh. But you'll never be free of it."

He watched the suspicion grow in her eyes.

"You're trying to frighten me," she chided, her lips trembling now.

"No, I'm trying to be honest," he said. "You laughed about the tabloid stories, the Breed community sneers at them, but there's truth to some of them, Grace. There's a bond, a hormonal, biological bond once a Breed comes in contact with his mate. It doesn't go away. It doesn't lessen…"

"No." She shook her head desperately. "That's not possible."

"There are small glands at the side of my tongue. They fill with a very powerful hormone once the mating begins. It takes no more than a lick on your flesh to make you burn. A kiss will turn you inside out with the need to be fucked. Eventually, the fires burn so hot and so desperate, that nothing matters but easing the hunger twisting inside you. How long it lasts depends on each couple. But it never completely goes away. In each case, though, there is love. There is emotion to make the bonds created endurable. It only occurs between a couple that would have loved, despite the heat."

He watched her pale. Her small hands flattened on his sweat-dampened chest. He was already burning for her. The glands in his tongue had become fully engorged the night before, and already the hormone was spilling into his system.

"Let me go, Matthias."

"Listen to me, Grace. You were loving me, I know you were, before last night."

"Last night changes everything," she cried out, her expression fraught with fear. "Let me go."

He released her, feeling the damning sorrow that weighed at his soul, as she put the length of the room between them.

She stared at the palms of her hands before wiping them on her gown, staring back at him in disbelief. Her gaze flickered from his face to his thighs, then back again.

"How long have you known about this reaction? That it could happen between us?" She asked.

"Since the beginning," he answered her honestly. "The night of the mugging, when I touched you, when I wiped the tears from beneath your eyes, I could feel something inside me shifting, changing. Within a week, I could feel the itch in my tongue, the arousal that wouldn't abate. I knew then."

He had known even before then that she would hold his heart. Months he had spent watching her, investigating her, learning things about her that softened him toward her. She was a good woman. Loyal. Honest. She worked hard, she had friends, and she often went out of her way to do good things for them. Taking them soup when they were ill, visiting them in the hospital. Late nights on the phone, when one of them lost a lover.

"God, you infected me with something." She was staring back at him in horror.

Hell, he should have just kissed her and let nature take care of it.

"Not fully." He finally shrugged. "But I will, before this week is out." His muscles tightened in determination. "You are my mate, Grace. I won't let you just walk away from me. No other woman will ever be as important to my soul. No other woman will ever bring me the pleasure you do, with just your smile. And you know you will never forget how I make you feel. You know it."

She was shaking her head desperately. "You can't do this to me! I won't let you."

"I can't control it," he said. "Tell your body it can't happen. Tell your heart you don't care. By God, Grace, fix it and then tell me how you've done it, and I'll let you go. Until then, I can't walk away, because it would rip my soul from my body to do so."

"You don't love me," she cried.

"I cherish you," he growled. "But even more than that, for once in my misbegotten life, I have a chance at real freedom, and you're it. The chance to be more than the animal I was created to be. With my mate, I can be a husband, a father…"

Grace flinched at the sound of his voice when he said the words husband and father. He softened, a sense of wonder flashing in his eyes. He stared at her as though she meant something, as though she were important, as though she held his soul.

That look overrode her horror at what he was telling her. It diluted her anger. And nothing should have been able to dilute her anger.

"You knew all along. That's why you made me fall in love with you," she accused him, trying to hang on to the fury. "You deliberately made me care for you."

He pulled his shirt back on, though he didn't button it.

"Only because I cared as well," he stated, his voice rough. "All my life I've had to hold back. I've had to force myself to care for no one, because I knew they would suffer for my emotions. Once I escaped the labs, that restraint was so much a part of me that even forming friendships has been difficult. Until you." He shook his head, his dark gold eyes locked on her. "You gave me a chance to know what I've been missing all my life, Grace. You still the fury inside me, and you made me hope there was more to my life than the constant battle for freedom. You made me love you. Why shouldn't I respond in kind?"

She had hoped he would love her. She had teased him, she had tempted him, she had done everything to draw him into a touch, a kiss. She had laughed with him, and knowing he was a Breed, tried to show him a softer, gentler side of life. She had set out to bind him to her, believing this scarred, shadowed wolf she was coming to love needed her.

And maybe he did, in more ways than she knew. But he was a killer, wasn't he? He had taken Albrecht's life without remorse, hadn't he? Or had he?

The blood red teardrops on his shoulder told another story. Teardrops, a sign of pain and regret. They told a story she knew he would never admit to. Teardrops denoted sorrow, blood red teardrops, grief. She wondered if he even realized the grief that lurked in his gaze, and in his soul?

God, he was killing her. He stared at her with such longing, with such hunger, that it broke her heart.

"I would give my life to touch you and not have you pull away from me now," he whispered, moving slowly toward her. "If I swear not to kiss you, would you let me touch you?"

Wild, unquenched hunger rose inside her.

"Matthias, that's not fair to you." She shook her head desperately as she backed against the door of the refrigerator.

"Not fair to me?" His lips quirked mockingly. "It's far more than I deserve. I need it, Grace. Just this once, let me touch you."

CHAPTER SEVEN

She wasn't a virgin. Grace liked to consider herself a well-rounded, experienced woman, but even for her, the way Matthias touched her made her feel almost innocent. She felt unable to deny him, unable to reassert her common sense and run like hell.

It was one thing to know the ways of the world, and in some cases, the ways of men. But with Matthias she was finding out that everything she had learned over the years was just wrong.

Matthias didn't act like other men. He didn't react as other men, and he sure as hell didn't go after what he wanted as other men did. If he had argued, gone dominant, arrogant, and stubborn, she could have walked away, she told herself.

But he stared at her with such hunger. A hunger he didn't attempt to hide or push away. She wasn't a threat to his independence. The way he watched her, she was imperative to his survival.

"You're so pretty," he whispered, as he stopped before her, causing her to ache as she stared up at the wonderment of his expression. "I look at you, and sometimes, I'm afraid of touching you. Of giving you the power to destroy me. Most people have a little healthy fear of Breeds, but you stand before me, knowing in your soul, I'd never harm you."

The backs of his fingers smoothed over her cheek, sending curious tingles racing through her body.

"I'd die before I ever harmed you, before I'd ever see you harmed. Do you know that, Grace?"

She could feel it, see it in his expression and in his eyes. This wasn't stalker material, nor was it an edge of desperation. This was a man, a strong, powerful man, stating his intent, nothing more. It wasn't tinted with fanaticism or with a threat. It was clear statement.

"Matthias, you need someone—"

"No." His fingers covered her lips, stopping the words. "I need whatever you'll give me, right here and right now. Nothing more. Just my hands on you, Grace. Let me touch you."

His thumb smoothed over her lips as she leaned her head against the refrigerator and stared back at him, torn, uncertain.

"I touched silk three months after our rescue from the labs," he whispered, as his fingertips moved over her jaw. "I swore there was nothing softer in all the world, until I touched your hand."

His hand smoothed down her arm, lifted her wrist and brought her palm to his stubbled jaw. "Your hands were warm and so soft. As soft as innocence itself."

His eyes closed, and he held her hand against him as he worked his cheek over it. She let her fingers touch his cheeks, smooth over them, and his expression shifted to one of bliss.

"I'm not innocent," she told him, but she meant the reminder for herself. Because he made her feel innocent. He made her feel nervous, excited, uncertain, but without the fears of virginity. He made her feel so much a woman that it was frightening.

"But you are innocent." He laid his cheek against hers, his lips at her ear, as he pushed her robe over her shoulders. "Innocent of deceit and corruption. When I smell your scent, I smell summer. I feel warmth. All the things I wondered if I would ever know."

Grace shivered with excitement at the guttural sound of his voice, the latent growl that bordered it. He was breathing hard and deep, his chest rasping over her gown-covered nipples and sending shafts of pleasure to tighten around them.

"Matthias, what are you doing to me?" Her head fell to the side, as his chin stroked over her neck.

"Just touching sunshine," he said softly. "Heat and magic. Warm me, Grace. Just for a minute."

At this rate, she was going to forget all that pertinent information he had just given her on what sex with him would be. Hormonal aphrodisiacs, mating heat, and biological bindings be damned. Her clit was screaming a silent demand for touch, and her sex was clenching in need.

And he hadn't even kissed her. His rough cheek and jaw were doing no more than smoothing over her neck, her shoulders, as his hands slowly did away with her gown.

Her gown.

Grace gasped as the material pooled at her feet, leaving her naked but for the high-cut cotton and lace thong she wore.

"Shh. Easy, Grace," he whispered. "I'm just touching you. That's all. No kisses. No demands. Ah God, just a little touch."

His hands cupped her breasts.

"Matthias. It's more…" she sucked in a hard breath as his thumbs raked over her nipples. "More than little touches."

"It warms me, Grace." He pressed his forehead into her shoulder, his black hair falling to the side, covering the swollen mounds of her breasts. It was cool and heavy, another sensual stroke against her flesh.

Suddenly, nothing mattered but warming Matthias. She knew the hell he had lived through, had triumphed against. She knew the pain and blood his life had been filled with.

So he had killed the bastard who had caused it, her dazed mind pondered. Would she have done any less? Her life had been filled with laughter and love, with acceptance. Things Matthias still fought for. Things she had dreamed of giving him.

* * *

MATTHIAS fought to control the shaking of his body, the need to lick and taste her flesh as he stroked her. He could smell the sweet heat of her pussy, drawing him, making his mouth water for the rich syrup he knew flowed from her.

His hands were filled with her swollen breasts, her pebble-hard nipples poking against his thumbs. But he had promised. He had promised not to let the aphrodisiac filling his mouth touch her.

It was killing him. The glands were pumping the hormonal fluid into his mouth, filling his system, burning him alive with the need to fuck her. His cock was so hard, throbbing so viciously he had to fight to hold back his growls.

He let his cheek touch her, his forehead, praying the sweat gathering on his skin didn't have the aphrodisiac effect. He moved along her neck, her shoulders, bending to her to allow his cheek to caress her upper chest, then the hard mound of a breast.

His hand slid to her waist as he panted, his lips a breath from her hard nipple, her little whimpers of pleasures causing him to clench his teeth to hold back.

"Matthias, you're killing us both like this." She trembled in his arms. "Don't do this."

"Are you asking me to stop, Grace?" Please, God, no! He couldn't bear it. He had to touch her, if he didn't touch her, he was going to die.

"Matthias," the soft protest dragged an unwilling growl from his lips.

"I dream of holding you." He rushed his cheek over her nipple and moved lower.

He went slowly to his knees, his hands and face alone touching her, stroking skin so soft he knew it couldn't be real. This had to be a dream. God had been merciful. Somehow he had died, and God had given him an angel to love. It had to be. Because she was so warm and soft, all the things he had dreamed of with none of the scent of death surrounding her.

When he reached the elastic and lace band of her panties, he felt a hard spurt of pre-cum erupt from his cock. He jerked at the pleasure of the small ejaculation, his fingers tightening on the band, as he forced himself to go slowly.

"I can smell you," he sighed against her hip. "Like hot cream and sweet syrup. Have I mentioned, I have a weakness for cream and syrup?"

Her hands were on his shoulders, her fingers kneading them beneath the shirt he wore, as wicked little cries left her throat.

He pulled at the band of her panties, sliding them slowly from her hips, then along her rounded thighs. The little swell of her belly drew him. He wanted to lick it, longed to taste it, but contented himself with pressing his cheek against it instead.

"Matthias, I don't think I can stand this," she gasped.

"Sweet Heaven, just a few more minutes, Grace." His eyes had opened, and he was treated to the prettiest sight of his life.

Sweet honey gold curls beaded with her female cream. Luscious little drops of it clung to the soft curls that shielded her pussy, glistening with arousal and heat.

"Oh God, Grace." His hand was shaking, as he touched a single droplet with one finger, easing it from the curl before rubbing it against his lips.

His eyes closed, his nostrils flared, and the growl that tore from his chest was animalistic, hungry, almost violent.

He licked the taste of her from his lip, drowning in the need for more and relishing even that smallest hint of passion.

"I've dreamed of going down on you." He clenched his teeth desperately, as he fought for control. Maintaining it was iffy. "Licking your flesh, seeing these pretty curls wet with your need for me. Breeds don't have body hair, you know?"

"I know." Her voice was thin, her breath panting as he parted her legs further.

"I've never taken a woman like this," he told her softly. "With just my hands, just this touch." His hand slid up her thighs, his fingers parting the curl-shrouded folds with a reverent touch.

God help him. She was hot. So liquid hot his dick was burning for it. Another hard ejaculation of pre-cum jerked the engorged flesh, warning him, that for him, the mating heat was progressing too quickly. That wasn't just pre-cum. It was a slick hormone-filled lubrication that eased the tender flesh of the vagina, preparing it for his penetration.

Wolf Breeds were thickly endowed. Most women, even female Wolf Breeds struggled to accept the girth. But during mating heat, a Wolf Breed's hormonal responses prepared the female. The pre-seminal fluid aided that, but only during the mating heat. It helped relax the tender muscles, built the arousal, ensured that the sexual act progressed without undue pain, and prepared the feminine sheath for what would come later.

Mother nature was a bitch. Breed mating was wickedly sexual and sometimes, for the females, it could be terrifying.

"Matthias, you're making me weak," Grace moaned, dragging him back from the sight of his index finger piercing the swollen lips and gathering her moisture to it.

He had to taste her again. He couldn't put his lips to her, but maybe, like this.

He looked up at her, brought the sweet juice to his lower lip and smeared it there. When his finger had eased back, he licked.

He moaned at that rich taste. She cried out, her nails piercing his shoulder, as her hips jerked forward, almost slamming her pussy into his lips.

"Stop. Grace. Easy, sweetheart."

"Damn you!" She cried out. "This is killing me."

It was the expression on his face that was killing her. Absorbed, intent, so filled with pleasure it humbled her. His face was flushed, his eyes glittering with rich, golden browns, almost a fire inside the dark orbs.

He was staring at her pussy as though it contained all the secrets of his pleasure. His fingers slid through the sick folds again, parting them, easing inside her.

Easing inside her, when she needed more. Her hips jerked, her pussy convulsing around the single finger as it rubbed against the sensitive tissue.

"Matthias, please. Please. I need more." She was shaking, sweating. God, she had never before perspired like this in the height of sex, let alone foreplay.

Her muscles were tightening, pleasure was streaming through her bloodstream, her clit was on fire, engorged and needy.

"Easy baby. I have you." Two fingers slid inside her as his thumb slid against her clit, circled it, rasped along the bundle of nerves and sent her exploding into a cascade of pleasure.

Violent, white hot, blistering in its intensity, the orgasm that tore through her had her crying out his name. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she lifted on her tiptoes, tightened on his fingers, and felt her juices rushing around them.

She felt one arm surround her hips, his head digging into her belly, and she wasn't certain, but she could have sworn she heard an animalistic snarl.

Nothing had ever been so good. No pleasure she had experienced, or had imagined, could prepare her for something so perfect, so intense, or mind shattering.

Nothing could have prepared her for Matthias.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Matthias needed to give Grace time to accept him on her own, without the mating heat clouding the issue or making her feel that she had been forced into something she didn't want. But the next day, he was beginning to wonder if that would happen.

After he had driven her to climax, she had escaped to the shower, and for the rest of the day, and now into the next morning, she watched him with a wariness that tore at his soul.

He had never been forced to see himself from another's eyes, especially one who had never known the horrors of those labs, or the price of Breed freedom. He had accepted his part in the scheme of preserving Breed independence and establishing their position on earth. It wasn't as though there were another planet they could escape to.

He had been trained by his creators to kill. He now used that training to make certain that those who created them could never repeat the horrors of the past. At least, not for long.

Until Grace, he had never considered how the non-Breed population of the world would view this, how they would view him.

He stood beside the lake outside the cabin, as the sun rose high in the sky, resting on his heels, as he looked out over the water and frowned at the thought.

The blood of monsters shouldn't stain a man's soul. He had saved countless lives, both Breed and non-Breed alike, by the actions he had taken, and he had never given it much thought, until now.

He marked the kills within the smoke circle and gave their souls up to a higher being to judge. He didn't consider himself judge and jury. He was merely the means to stop the atrocities they committed.

Or was he just making excuses for himself?

Bending his head, he picked up a smooth rock from the sandy ground and rubbed his thumb over it, frowning as his thoughts held him captive.

He considered himself neither a good man, nor a bad man, but he was questioning his own actions now, because of one small woman. She saw blood on his hands, whereas he saw peace from the fact that one less monster existed. She saw an injustice, where he saw justice. And he now found himself in conflict with his very beliefs and his perceived place in the world.

He was a Breed. There was no changing that, and he had just as much right to exist in this world as any other creature did. He had the right to laughter, the right to dream, and the right to love. But did he have the right to kill?

A part of him howled yes. A part of him questioned that belief. Could he ever do his job again, now that he had seen the look of horror and betrayal in Grace's eyes?

And he knew he wouldn't. Whether she accepted the mating between them or left at the end of the week to resume her life alone, Matthias knew that this part of his life was over.

The smoke assassin would exist no more. He would drift out of men's minds with the same ease that he had slipped into their most secured areas and destroyed the monsters. All because of a woman.

His lips quirked at the though of that woman.

She was the softest creature on the face of the earth, as far as he was concerned. Gently rounded and tender of flesh as well as emotions. Stubborn. He could see the stubbornness in the sharply rounded chin, but he saw her compassion in her pert little nose and rosebud lips.

Her gray eyes were always soft, even when she was angry, and when she was aroused, they were like a storm. Dark, shifting with color, and firing with hunger.

She moved him. She made him wish for things he had never believed he would want. Made him dream of things he had never believed he would dream of. Things like a home, perhaps children, but at the very least, her soft smile filling his heart before he slept each night, the warmth of her body curled against his.

He wanted to protect her, he wanted to laugh with her, as he had done before she had seen him take a life. She had kept a smile on his face with her gentle teasing and her determination to make certain he knew what the finer things in life were.

Such as a pillow fight. She had whacked him over the head with a couch pillow one evening in her apartment and informed him that even Breeds needed to learn the rules of a pillow fight.

He had nearly kissed her that night. She had dusted him in the pillow fight, but he had retaliated by wrestling her to the floor and stealing her pillow.

He smiled at the memory. Her need for the kiss had filled the air, and only the thought of what would come had kept him in control.

She needed the choice. He wouldn't surprise her with it, he wasn't going to force it on her.

She had cooked him dinner many nights then made him help her wash the dishes rather than using the dishwasher. Another evening she had made him help her cook. He doubted she would repeat that exercise very soon. They had ended up eating from room service, but they had laughed.

They had taken long walks through central park, holding hands.

He had gone shoe shopping with her. She had helped him pick out a new pair of boots. He'd talked her into a leather miniskirt, she'd made him buy a pair of jeans, and then they wore their new clothes in the privacy of her apartment, as they ate popcorn and watched a comedy movie she'd been wanting to see.

She could bust his ass playing poker, but he had her on Monopoly. They had fit. Despite the sexual tension that had steadily grown between them, there had been something about being with her that fit him, all the way to his soul.

And he couldn't help but think that finally he belonged to someone.

Breeds weren't born, they were created. They belonged to the labs. They were no more than expensive tools and experiments, until their escapes. After that, they belonged to no one. They were without family, in many cases they were without friends. They were part of the pack they had trained in, but true belonging went deeper. It went to the soul. And his soul belonged to Grace.

But he was beginning to realize that perhaps Grace really didn't want to belong to him. He stared at the rock in his hand, then, feeling the bite of that knowledge as it tore at his heart.

Walking away from her would destroy him. It would mean that there truly was no place in the world that he would fit, and he didn't want that to be true.

He had fought for ten years to make the world safe for Breed mates. With each year, the knowledge of the mating might not be publicized, but the knowledge of the danger to them was. The world was standing behind them, and in several cases where Breed mates would have been kidnapped, regular citizen's had raised the alarm.

The Council Directorate was finding it harder with each successive year to strike against known, registered Breeds. They were too well known in the communities they had come into. They were well liked and considered members of the community. Even the pure blood societies were reportedly finding it harder to gain members outside the fanatical few.

There was still a long road to travel in making peace with society at large. And there were still too many Breeds dying needlessly. But inroads were being made.

Now, if only Matthias could make his own inroads.

Straightening, he turned his head to the cabin, eyes narrowing, as Grace stepped out onto the porch. She hadn't tried to run yet, and he had given her every chance to do just that.

She stood just outside the door, staring at him across the clearing. She wore a stretchy, snug top with thin straps and a pair of cutoff jeans. Her silky hair fell around her face to her shoulders in several natural shades of blonde. Even from here he could see the somber reflection in her soft eyes.

Breakfast and lunch had been so silent between them that it weighed in the air like a heavy fog. He had left the cabin to escape it, to escape the pain he knew he was causing her.

Matthias felt his body tighten as she stepped from the porch and moved down the steps before coming toward him. Her steps were slow, the air of reluctance that hovered around her had his teeth clenching.

He dropped the rock he held back to the ground, shoved his hands in his pockets, and waited for her. He felt as though he had waited for her all his life, only to watch her slip from his life once he found her.

"You're not a very conscientious kidnapper," she informed him, as she stepped up to him and brushed the hair back from her face. "You don't even watch me properly."

His lips twitched, as amusement flooded him for a brief second.

"I'm new at this," he bantered back. "You'll have to forgive me my mistakes."

She sniffed in apparent disdain. "I think I'd drop it, if I were you. Its one of those things you either have a talent for, or you don't."

"Perhaps you're right. I'll give it some thought."

Silence descended between them once again. Matthias was forced to curl his fingers into fists to keep them in his pockets, to keep from touching her. She had no idea about the forces that were beating inside him. The hormonal changes in his body were ripping him apart, the taste of the aphrodisiac filling his mouth reminding him by the second that she was his mate.

It would take so little to ensure she never left him, he thought. So little. A lick to her neck as she slept, perhaps. The scrape of his canines against her skin. A kiss. Just the softest kiss, and he would have her forever.

Her body anyway. But it wasn't just her body he wanted, it was her heart, her woman's spirit, and her capacity to love. He didn't want more of her condemnation, or her hatred. And she would hate him, if he stole the choice from her—she would never forgive him. And he would never forgive himself. Prison would be preferable to that. Or death.

"Why did you target me to get to Albrecht?" she finally asked, though now her voice was devoid of anger.

"It gave me an excuse to get close to you," he admitted. "I had been watching several of the hotel's employees. You were just one of them. But you were the one that fascinated me."

Being honest with this woman about such things would never be easy.

She looked out toward the lake for long seconds, following his stance and shoving her hands into the pockets of her cutoffs.

How forlorn she looked. He would give anything, everything to go back and change that moment that she had seen him kill.

"I was falling in love with you, Matthias," she finally whispered.

"I know." He nodded. "I already love you, Grace."

And he did. He loved her so much it was ripping his guts to pieces.

"I've never loved before," he told her quietly. "It wasn't hard to realize what you meant to me. You made me laugh, you lightened my soul."

"And you set out to destroy it." Anger flashed in her gaze.

Mathias sighed bleakly. Perhaps he should just leave, give her a chance to think, to consider being without him. But God help him, he was terrified to do that.

"I won't explain my actions again." He shook his head before staring up at the deep blue of the sky. When he looked back at her, she was watching him somberly once again.

"Go back into the cabin, Grace," he finally told her. "Or work in your flowers or whatever it is you do on vacation. You're straining my control."

A frown snapped between her brow, and her eyes darkened in anger. "I can't relax. I can't do that while you're kidnapping me. Maybe someone will return the favor on your next vacation."

"I would first have to experience such a thing," he growled.

He had never had a vacation. There was still too much to do. There were ten council directors still free, funding the pure-blood societies and training them to kill Breeds. There were trainers still at large and coyote soldiers still lurking. Who had time for a vacation?

"You've never had a vacation?" Disbelief colored her voice. As though it were yet another crime that she marked against him.

"I wasn't taught vacations in the lab," he snarled. "Remember?"

"As though that's an excuse." She sniffed with such ladylike disdain that she fascinated him.

"Grace, I'm going to warn you one last time," he ground out between clenched teeth. "Remove yourself from me, or you are going to regret it."

"It's my property. You remove yourself from me." Her hands went to her hips, as her little chin tilted stubbornly. "I did not kidnap you, Matthias. It was the other way around."

"Fine!" He knew he flashed the sharp canines at the side of his mouth as he snarled the word out, because her gaze narrowed, and her lips tightened. "Then you can accept the consequences if you stand there so defiantly, much longer."

"What consequences? Are you going to tie me up again and restrain me to my seat? Oh wait, why don't you just re-kidnap me, that was scary enough."

"Why don't I kiss you?" he suggested ferally. "Why don't I cover your lips with mine, shove my tongue in your mouth, and force this be-damned hormone into your system, to torture you as well? Why don't I make your pussy so wet, so hot, that you would use your own fingers to tempt me to fuck you? That you would beg me to be inside you? Why don't I do that, Grace?"

He could feel the blood pumping harder, faster inside him now. Adrenaline was mixing with the hormone, and that wasn't a good thing, pumping the effects through his body, straight to his cock. He was so ready to fuck, his cock was about to rupture.

His hands had torn from his pockets and gripped her shoulders now, as he glared down at her.

"My dick is so hard it's agony. I think of nothing but being inside you. Of feeling you, hot and melting around my cock, as you did my fingers. Perhaps you should remember exactly what will happen if I do that."

Grace pressed her hands into Matthias's chest, feeling the thundering of his heart beneath her hands, the tension in his body. She stared into his eyes, feeling as though she were drowning in them as he snarled down at her. What was she supposed to remember? Oh yeah, uncontrolled nympho-sex. Needing him so badly it hurt.

Hell, it hurt now.

"What, Matthias, all that incredible control you've had over the last three weeks is finally fraying? Poor baby. So much for all that Breed training to control your baser impulses."

Had she really said that? Obviously she had, because he was staring at her as though she were crazy.

"Have you lost your mind?" He asked her slowly. "Do you think that now in any way resembles the last three weeks? Sorry, baby, I hadn't tasted that hot little pussy then. I have now, and trust me, the need for more is wearing my control thin."

"It was a decision you made, not me." Her finger poked into his chest. "How many low-cut blouses did I wear? Would you like to know how many times I didn't wear panties under my skirt or took my bra off after we came to my apartment? It didn't bother you then, why should it bother you now?"

And he was right, she was crazy. She was aroused, and she was mad. This was her damned vacation, and he was messing it up. What was worse, he had been messing her life up for three weeks, and now she found out that she couldn't even have a hot one-night stand with him without committing for life.

She would be damned if that was fair. Because she knew he was right. Sex with another man would never satisfy her, because he held her heart. She was in love with a killer, and she wanted to kill him for it.

"Do you think I didn't know what you were doing?" His head lowered, his lips only inches from hers as he scowled down at her.

"Do you think it was easy to try to be one of the good guys? To not take advantage of you and force you into this heat?"

"One of the good guys?" Her eyes widened, as her voice rose. "Where in the hell do you see yourself as a good guy? You are so fucking bad, you give the word a new meaning."

CHAPTER NINE

Grace stared at Matthias in shock, as the words slipped past her lips. Amazingly, he didn't become angry. He didn't take her accusation in the worst light, and that wasn't how she had meant it.

Though, she wasn't certain how she had meant it. She just hadn't meant it in the sense of the killing she had witnessed. The thought of that had her sobering further.

His eyes crinkled at the corners. "You like bad boys," he accused her. "You told me you did."

"That's beside the point," she huffed. "And stop making me crazy. You are making me crazy, you know."

"Because you love me." There was so much confidence in his voice that she grit her teeth in agitation.

"Don't tell me how I feel, Matthias. I don't like it." She glared back at him. "You have to be the lousiest kidnapper in history."

"Should I tie you to your bed?" He mused, his expression strained, despite the amusement in his eyes.

"You'd enjoy that too much," she finally sighed before turning away and moving a few paces along the finely ground dirt that bordered the lake. "Would you give it up?" She finally asked, turning back to him.

"Give what up?" he asked, but she saw in his eyes that he knew what she was talking about.

"What you do." The killing. The bloodshed. The danger.

He pushed his fingers through his long black hair. The moment he released it, an errant wind blew it back around his face, giving him a savage, warrior appearance.

He breathed in deeply, stared out over the lake, then turned back to her. "For you. As long as no danger threatens you."

She felt herself trembling, hope surging through her, burning through her mind, as he stared back at her, his expression stoic.

"You wouldn't hate me for it?"

"Grace, dammit, I love you," he snarled. "Do you think I'm unaware that things have to change if you accept me? That what is acceptable as an unmated male would be unacceptable as a mated one? For God's sake!" He glowered down at her. "Do you think I was born stupid?"

She shook her head slowly, a smile trembling on her lips. "No. You weren't born stupid, Matthias."

"What about you?" he growled. "Could you forget Albrecht? Could you forgive what you saw for a life with me?"

She licked her lips slowly. "I understand why you did it. Why you feel you had to do it. Because of what he did to you and to those you knew, you would have had no choice."

But she couldn't face a life with him, never knowing who he would kill next, or why, or living with the fear that the day would come when he would make a mistake. That he would take an innocent life. No man was perfect, and eventually she feared, he would shed innocent blood. That she found too hard to accept.

"So I make this promise to give it up. It doesn't mean I won't continue to fight for Breed rights. I won't sit back and watch my people die without working to help them."

"I understand that."

"The least I can do is be an enforcer, an agent for the Bureau of Breed Affairs."

"I can handle that." She knew about the bureau and their work.

He nodded slowly. "Then come here, mate, take me."

Instantly, Matthias's expression transformed from pure self-assurance, to wicked, carnal arrogance. His lips became fuller, his gaze darker, his thick black lashes lowering as a hard flush stained his cheekbones.

The sensuality he had kept locked inside was finally free. It glittered in his eyes, turned them to dark, whiskey fire, as he watched, waited for her to come to him, for her to accept him.

Grace cleared her throat. "An aphrodisiac in your tongue, huh?"

His lips quirked with a decidedly anticipatory grin.

"Hot, uncontrolled sex?"

A growl rumbled in his throat.

"Well, in for a penny, in for a pound." She stepped to him, her hands sliding from his chest to his shoulders, as his head bent and her lips touched his.

There was no drugging sensation, only sweet, hot pleasure. His lips moved slowly over hers. They both learned the shape and texture of each other, held back, and relished this first touch.

Grace lifted one hand from his shoulder, her lashes lifting, so she could stare into his face with dazed fascination, as she touched his whiskered cheek.

He looked disreputable. Wild and bold. And he was all those things. But his gaze, though burning with arousal, was tender, his hands gentle as one threaded through her hair and the other gripped her hip.

"Like sunshine," he whispered against her lips. "That's how you taste, Grace."

Her lips parted, accepting his again, her tongue reaching out to lick at the harder curves of his. He jerked, his hands tightening on her, as he pulled back.

"Come on." He gripped her wrist and began striding quickly to the cabin.

"Wait." She stumbled along behind him. "What happened? What are you doing?"

"I refuse to take you outside," he snarled, moving up the steps to the porch. "We're going to the bedroom."

"Well, you could have kissed me properly, just once," she argued a bit peevishly. She had been waiting for that kiss.

"Once I get my tongue in your mouth we're both goners." He slammed the door behind them, set the security alarm on the doors and windows, and continued toward the bedroom.

As the bedroom door slammed behind him, he turned, wrapped his arm around her hips, and jerked her to him.

"Now," he groaned. "Sweet God in Heaven. Now!"

His lips descended on hers, parting them, making way for the stroke of his tongue and the spicy, heated taste of lust.

Grace had never imagined that lust had a taste, but it did. It was spicy hot, a hint of jalapeño and the taste of a tropical breeze. It was fine whiskey with an undertone of honey, and it was addictive. Once she had the first taste of him, she knew why he had hesitated to kiss her. Because she could never get enough. She wanted his kiss inside her forever.

Her lips surrounded his tongue, hers battled with his and suckled at it with delirious demand, arching in his arms. She moaned into his lips, felt his groan and his hands. Hands that pulled her clothes from her body. Hands that moved her fingers to the band of his pants.

She tore at the metal closures, releasing the band quickly, before sliding her hands inside to test the muscular contours of his sexy male ass.

"You taste good," she moaned, as his lips lifted from hers to lower her to the bed. "I need more."

"More is what you'll get."

He sat on the bed, jerked his boots off, then straightened and removed his leather pants. Of course, he went commando. No underwear. She wished he had worn underwear, she might have been better prepared for exactly how well endowed he was.

It wasn't so much the length, which was impressive, but he was thick, thicker than she had expected. Thicker than any other man she had ever taken.

Fascinated, she sat up on the bed, reaching out with a single fingertip to touch the throbbing head of his cock. Of course, it was pierced. A silver bar pierced the ridge of its head, the locking balls at each end glittering in the sunlight that slanted through the window. It matched the piercings in his left nipple and ear.

"Any reason for this?" she touched the curved silver lightly. Then her gaze was caught by the two rune tattoos inside his thighs. She knew those. Strength and wisdom. He was both.

"Later," he growled. "I'll explain it later."

Shadows flashed in his eyes, and she didn't want them there. She wanted the flaming arousal back in full force. She wanted all his attention on her.

Grace lowered her head, parted her lips, and let her tongue swipe over the damp crest, pausing to pay particular attention to the silver piercing. She rolled her tongue over it, gripped the small locking ball with her teeth, and tugged at it gently.

Matthias froze. But the shadows were gone. His expression was watchful now, dark with sensuality. Grace parted her lips further and slowly lowered her mouth onto the straining, engorged crest of his cock.

"Ah, fuck!" His groan was followed by a hard, powerful clench of his abdomen. A second later, it was Grace's turn to freeze.

That wasn't just pre-cum that spurted into her mouth, and it wasn't the consistency of semen. The taste was like that of his kiss, honey and spice, pure lust.

She stared up at him, her tongue licking over the thick head and the piercing, as she tried to analyze it. Tabloid rumors, fanatical accusations of perversions and animalistic characteristics flitted through her mind.

Maybe they weren't all lies. Maybe the past ten years of accusations against the Breeds' sexuality was more than just supposition. If it were, it gave a whole new meaning to the idea of wild sex acts.

She eased back, her lashes drooping over her eyes, as he watched her carefully.

"What's next?" She breathed over the head of his cock, watching his cheekbones flush from arousal, as carnal knowledge lit his gaze.

"It's a surprise," he growled, the fingers of one hand curling around his thick shaft. "If I tell you, it would spoil it."

Oh, he was bad.

"Could I convince you to tell me?" She lowered her mouth over the straining crest again and sucked it deep. She watched his face, as she worked his flesh with her tongue, with the suckling heat surrounding him. She gripped the silver that pierced his flesh with her lips, tongued it, then sank her mouth over his cock head once again.

His lashes drifted closed, as his body tightened further. A ragged growl rumbled in his chest. She loved that sound. The hotter he became, the more aroused, the deeper it became.

She knew what was coming, she could sense it. She could feel it. Her hand brushed his away, stroking the thick flesh slowly. She could feel the tension in the middle of the heavy length, a harder pulse of blood, the flesh more heated.

Another spurt of the pre-cum filled her mouth, as a groan ripped from his throat. His cock throbbed, the blood beating furiously through the heavy veins.

"Enough." He drew back, ignoring her frantic attempt to hold him in her mouth.

She could feel the back of her throat tingling, a deeper hunger rushing through her.

"You'll wait," he snarled, pushing her back. "You'll not destroy my control this time."

"You have control left?" Her arms curled around his shoulders, as his lips moved down her neck. "I don't think that's fair. Mine's gone."

She could feel the burn now. It was racing through her, licking over her nipples, her clit. She arched to Matthias, rubbing the hot tips of her breasts against his chest, feeling the fine, silken body hair that was almost invisible to the naked eye. Damn, it felt good, though. Like rough silk rasping over her nipples.

"Do you feel it, Grace?" He whispered as his lips moved lower, his canines rasping over her collarbone. "Do you feel the need building? Burning inside you like its been burning inside me?"

She felt it. Her eyes closed in delirious pleasure with it. The sensations were nearly painful, the arousal building inside her until her womb was rippling with it.

"I'm going to make it burn hotter." His voice was guttural now, hoarse with his own arousal just before his tongue licked over a nipple.

"Oh, God, yes. Suck it." She arched, driving the tight peak against his lips. "Suck my nipples, Matthias."

Another growl. But his lips parted, and he sucked the tender tip inside.

Wet liquid fire wrapped around her nipple. He sucked her deep, his mouth hungry, his tongue stroking and licking, as her nails bit into his shoulders.

"Oh, that's so good," she moaned, her hips arching to grind her pussy against one hard, lean thigh, as he held himself above her. "It's so good, Matthias. I love your mouth. I love your tongue."

He caught the peak between his teeth, his tongue lashing it as she writhed beneath him. Tingles of electric sensation tore from the tip to her womb then struck with brilliant heat to the heart of her pussy.

She jerked in his arms, arched, cried his name.

"Sweet, Grace," he whispered, kissing the swollen slope of her breast reverently, before pressing more kisses between the two mounds and easing slowly down her body. "I can smell your pussy. Sunlight and syrup and sweet cream. I'm going to eat my fill now. I'm going to lick that pretty pussy so slow and easy."

"Oh yes," she moaned, writhing beneath him, her legs falling farther apart as he neared the agonized flesh there.

Her hips lifted, as his lips grazed her hipbone. Her hand tangled into his hair, holding him to her as he whispered over the curls at the top of her pussy.

"Matthias, please." Her heels dug into the bed as she lifted to him. "Now. Touch me now."

His hands slid beneath the cheeks of her rear to hold her in place. Locking his gaze with hers, his tongue distended, sliding through the saturated slit with a long, slow lick.

Spikes of sensation shot through her. Tingles and flares and fingers of electricity arcing from nerve ending to nerve ending as the breath caught in Grace's throat.

Sheer pleasure.

Her eyes closed, and her head tipped back as a keening cry spilled from her lips.

CHAPTER TEN

Matthias licked at delicate, creamy flesh, humming his pleasure in a long, low rumble. She tasted better than honey, better than sweet cream. The luscious juices spilling from her pussy were tinged with spice and spiked with pure sweet fire.

His hands kneaded her ass. Sweet delicate curves that clenched beneath his fingers as she lifted to him without reservation. And he accepted. He ate her with a greed he didn't believe was possible, terrified he couldn't get enough of the sweet, addictive juices spilling to his lips and tongue.

Stretching out along the bed between her thighs, he lifted her closer, staring up at her absorbed expression as slowly, so slowly he pushed his tongue into the gripping, spasming channel he had dreamed of.

Her pussy was like silk. It flexed around his tongue as she cried out again, her hands clenching in his hair, pulling him closer.

Matthias could feel the hormone spilling from his tongue into the sweet depths of her cunt. The potency of the taste was diluted by the sweet juices he sipped from her. He rimmed the opening, lapped at it like the favored treat it would now become. He could eat her for hours and never get enough. Lick her forever and die with the hunger beating at his soul.

"Oh yes," her trembling voice speared through his senses. "Oh, Matthias, it's so good." She stretched beneath him, arching closer, as her hips worked her pussy onto his tongue.

His cock throbbed, the pre-cum spurting from it to the blankets beneath him. He wasn't ready to fuck her yet, he thought desperately. Not yet. He had waited his entire life for this moment. For that one perfect moment, when touch, taste, moans, and whispered passions came into sync.

Everything melded together with Grace. Her taste was perfect. There was no scent of promiscuity, no taste of another who had gone before him. The Breed sense of smell and taste was often too good. But with Grace, there was only the sweet, heated taste of her woman's passion.

Slick, silken, her juices clung to his lips, to his tongue, as he slowly drew back from her.

Swollen glistening folds of flesh drew his gaze. Silken damp curls, ruby red, passion flushed, her pussy lured him. He licked again, hearing her cry, then drew back to gaze at the slickness again.

Had any woman ever been so wet for him? He knew there hadn't been. Only Grace. Farther up, her clit was swollen, fully exposed and flushed with need. He reach out with his tongue, curling around it and groaning at the taste of it.

Grace jerked, and more of her juices spilled from her.

He needed more. A rumbled growl fell from his lips, as his tongue pierced her core again, and he allowed the tip of his nose to caress the hard nub of her clit.

"Oh, God, Matthias." She never called him Matt. He liked that. He wasn't a Matt. He was Matthias. It was the name he had chose for himself, the name he preferred, and she never used anything else.

"Yes." She stretched beneath him again, her hips rolling, pressing his tongue deeper inside the clenching muscles of her cunt. "Lick me there. Right there."

She was vocal. He liked the sounds of her passion, the feel of it. And he liked knowing she enjoyed his tongue. He licked as she pleaded, caressing into tender tissue as she gasped then cried out for more.

"Your taste," he groaned as he pulled back, licked the outer folds once again, and then caught the spill of sweet liquid from the opening of her pussy. "So sweet, Grace. Your pussy is like nectar. Soft and sweet and addictive."

He lifted his head again, his tongue curling around her clit, as he pressed two fingers inside the grasping depths of her pussy.

She was shaking in his arms, shuddering. Each muscle of her body was drawn tight, and her pussy was so snug he was suddenly thankful for the unique hormones that would prepare her for him. He couldn't hurt her, the thought of hurting her destroyed him.

"Matthias. Oh God, Matthias, what you do to me," she cried out hoarsely, as he drew her clit into his mouth.

She was close to orgasm. He could feel it pounding in her clit, in the tender muscles of her pussy and knew within seconds she would explode beneath him. He wanted it. He needed it. Sex had never been like this. This hot, this desperate. The need for her pleasure overriding the need even for his own.

When it came, growls tore from his own chest. Her clitoris, that delicate little nub of flesh expanded, swelled further, and the sweetest taste fell from it, as he felt her vagina tighten and pulse forth more of her slick juices.

The taste of her clitoral response was incredible. Slight. Fresh. New. As though no other man had drawn it forth before.

She was screaming his name. He could hear it, distantly, feel it vibrating through his soul, as this unique taste tempted his tongue. And Matthias knew he would never be satisfied, never be tempted to taste another woman again. Because nothing could ever be this good again.

* * *

GRACE couldn't breathe, she couldn't draw enough oxygen into her lungs, couldn't seem to find the instinct to force it in, as everything, conscious and subconscious, centered on the orgasm imploding inside her.

She shook her head desperately, fighting for air, but she couldn't get enough. Her eyes opened wide, her chest straining as the resulting panic caused the breath to still in her chest. She had warned him. Overexcitement. It happened every time.

"Easy, Grace." Matthias came over her, holding himself above her, one hand easing from her stomach to between her breasts with a gentle, caressing movement. "It's okay, my love. Slow and easy."

"Matthias," she gasped, feeling his fingers lower to massage her diaphragm.

"It's okay, Grace," he soothed her tenderly, his lips lowering to her neck and pressing against the flesh there in a soft, heated kiss. "Relax, love. It will ease."

Her hands were clenched in his hair, tight. It had to be hurting, but there was no strain in his voice, no attempt to loosen them.

"You're so sweet, so responsive," he whispered deeply. "I won't let you come to harm. I swear it."

His palm eased the horrible tightness, relaxing her, making breathing easier. As she drew sweet, clear air into her lungs, her breath caught again.

Oh God. His cock was poised at the entrance to her vagina, parting her folds, thick and hard. The shudders that raced through his body coincided with each, deep spurt of heated fluid that erupted from it.

She could feel it heating her inner flesh, doing something so odd, relaxing it, yet sensitizing it further.

"What… ?" She stared back at him in shock.

"It's preseminal fluid," he groaned in her ear. "Hormonal. It eases the tender flesh inside, makes penetration easier. Sweet God, Grace." He shuddered. "I need you now. Now."

His lips lowered to her shoulder, as he began to ease inside her.

The pressure, the heat, was incredible. White hot tingles filled her pussy, causing her to lift to him, desperate to still the little fingers of sensation that dug into her muscles.

He stretched her. Then stretched her more. She could feel her flesh parting, burning with a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Or was it pain so intense it merged with pleasure?

"Matthias," she gasped his name as he worked his engorged crest slowly inside her.

"It's okay, Grace." The hand that had been stroking below her chest now moved to enclose a swollen breast. "Slow and easy. I promise. I'll take you slow and easy."

She heard the desperation in his voice, the need to ease into her rather than ravish her. But she heard the hunger as well. He was burning as hot as she, his body shuddering with the same force that was trembling through hers.

He was thick, hard, and heavy, and she needed more. Grace lifted to him, working her hips closer, rolling them, taking the shaft deeper, as a groan ripped from his throat and his hand clamped on her hip.

"Easy," he snarled.

"You go easy," she panted, lowering her head to nip his neck demandingly. "I don't want easy."

His hips jerked, burying another hard inch inside her and stretching her with burning intensity.

"God yes." Her neck arched, her hips rolling again. "Fuck me, Matthias. Like I dream."

"Can't hurt you." He was the one fighting to breathe now. "Easy, Grace."

She twisted, digging her heels into the bed and lifted closer again. Her eyes went wide, and the blood thundering through her system went wild. Another hard blast of the pre-cum, and the sensations burning inside her increased. Her pussy rippled around his cock, flexed, spasmed.

"Hell's fire, woman," he bit out. "Don't do that."

It happened again. His hips jerked, and with a snarl he buried inside her, full length, the thick shaft overfilling her, the engorged head pressing demandingly against her cervix.

And it wasn't enough. She needed strokes. She needed taking. She needed…

"Fuck me." She nipped at his neck. "Now, Matthias. Fuck me now."

She felt it coming before he moved. The muscles of his back flexed beneath her hands. His thighs tightened, then with another hard growl, he began to move.

It wasn't easy. It wasn't a slow, peaceful loving. It was as wild as Matthias, as hot as her most wicked fantasies, and Grace knew she would never be the same.

"Like this." His hands lifted her legs around his hips, and he sank in farther.

She could feel his balls slapping against her rear, hear the hot, wet slap of flesh against flesh, and feel the hot burn of a possession so intensely carnal it would be branded into her very being forever.

His lips were everywhere. Kisses on her neck, her shoulder. He bent and suckled her nipples with deep hard draws of his mouth, lashed them with his tongue. His hips drove his erection inside her with furious thrusts, and she accepted him with hoarse cries for more.

"So hot and sweet." He nipped at her ear. "So giving. God yes, Grace, give to me. Take me."

The tension was gathering in her womb again. It flexed and spasmed with the power of the pleasure racing through her now. Sensations that tore through her, stripped her control, and left her racing toward an edge of ecstasy that should have been terrifying.

Matthias groaned against her breast, his body bowed over her, his cock moving hard and heavy inside her. The fierce strokes stretched and burned and sent fiery fingers of absolute pleasure tearing through her. He fucked her with wild hunger, his cock shafting into her with desperate strokes, as her legs tightened around his hips.

He pumped inside her demandingly, stroking and igniting flames of devouring lust. It rippled and burned through her body, left her gasping, begging for release.

Her nails dug into his back, as his lips returned to her shoulder. Sweat coated them, their moans blended, mingled until Grace's turned to screams.

This orgasm didn't just implode inside her. It exploded through her, tore past her body and lit her soul with fireworks. Her pussy tightened on his shuttling cock to the point of pain, as she felt the release of her juices wetting her further. Then something else happened.

She should have been prepared. He hadn't hidden it from her. He had warned her.

She felt his release build, heard his throttled male groan at her shoulder a second before she felt his canines bite into her flesh.

There should have been pain. There should have been a rending of flesh. There wasn't.

There was a sharp, fiery blast of sensation, as she felt the first spurt of semen, then the sudden thickening of his cock.

It thickened. And thickened. And thickened. Just in one place. Burning through the thick, heavy muscles that gripped him so tightly, exposing nerve endings she couldn't have known existed, stretching her, secured inside her, as he shot his seed straight to the opening of her cervix.

He was locked inside her. Pulsing violently, stroking her pussy, even though he was still inside her. It throbbed with his release, the feel of the blood pounding through it, throwing her into another orgasm so violent that she didn't have to worry about breathing, because she knew she must have died.

Nothing could be so incredible and still allow life afterward. This was the pinnacle. This was ecstasy, and she would never survive.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Matthias found himself gently massaging Grace's diaphragm after the explosion that tore through her body. She was trying to laugh and gasp for breath at the same time, her face flushing with an edge of embarrassment.

He was still locked inside her, his muscles tight and rippling with the final spurts of his own release. His long black hair fell over his face and hid her expression, like a dark cocoon, insulating them from the world.

Tenderness filled him, as her soft gray eyes watched him with a pleasure reflected in her gaze. Her hands stroked his shoulders so gently, as his palm pressed beneath her ribcage, easing the tightness.

"That's so embarrassing," she finally whispered stroking his hair back from his face, as he kept his gaze locked on her.

God he loved her. Loved her until he could think of nothing but her.

"Overexcitement," he whispered, kissing her cheek tenderly, as he felt his cock finally, blessedly, ease in its stiffness. "And a bit of fear, perhaps?"

Her lips tilted teasingly. "You have a few aspects that are a little overwhelming," she admitted. "But it's not totally your fault. Sometimes, I panic a little."

A little? Her diaphragm was relaxed now, and her breathing, though a little quick, was coming easier.

"Has it happened often since you were a child?" He questioned, easing from her, shuddering at the snug grip of her pussy as he slid out.

"Oh." She breathed out hard at his movement. "That still feels good."

Her hands slid over his shoulders and stroked down his chest, as he moved to lay beside her. She was a gentle weight against his chest now, one slender leg tucked between his, as she pushed his hair back from his face once again.

"It doesn't happen a lot," she finally answered him. "It used to happen all the time when I was little. New situations or if I got scared or excited. My dad was in the army. Every time we heard of a new battle near his area, or if he was late coming home on leave, it would happen."

Stress perhaps. Matthias thought as he tucked her closer to him.

"It hasn't happened since I hit my twenties. But then again, I've never been so excited in my life," she laughed, pulling her head back to stare up at him.

"Or perhaps so frightened?" he asked.

She shrugged, a wry smile on her face. "But it didn't happen when I saw you in Albrecht's suite. Or when you kidnapped me."

"Because you trusted me." He cupped her face in his hand, feeling his chest tighten at the knowledge of how much she had trusted him without even knowing it. "You knew I wouldn't kill without reason, Grace. Just, I think, as you knew that Albrecht was all he was accused of being."

She didn't turn away from him now, nor did she avoid his look. "I knew," she finally whispered. "Inside. But you still scared the life out of me."

"Not enough to steal your breath," he reminded her.

A soft smile from remembered pleasure shaped her well-kissed lips, this time as she shifted against him, her hand stroking down his arm. "No, it's your touch that steals my breath, Matthias. Maybe, if we practice a whole lot, I'll learn how to control it."

"Hmmm, perhaps that's the answer." He leaned down, allowing his lips to rub against hers, to feel the passion and desire in her acceptance of him.

He hadn't expected this. The price of keeping her wasn't so very bad, though. No more assassinations. He could live with that. Jonas could use him at the Bureau of Breed Affairs. He had requested his help there on a full-time basis many times, and Matthias had refused. Maybe he could talk to the director about that now, see what was needed.

There were very few Wolf Breeds in the bureau. The pack leader, Wolf Gunnar, was now on the Breed Ruling Cabinet and met often with the human and feline sections of the Breed community. The separate Breed races were slowly coming together, adapting and learning how to ensure their place in the world. Matthias could help with that. Grace could help with that. He had seen her at the hotel managing the staff. She was like a little general directing the running of the establishment.

"I think I'm hungry," she finally sighed, as his head lifted. "Starving, actually."

Matthias touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Then I better get you fed," he said. "Because the heat will build again, Grace. And soon."

Grace stared back at him in surprise, as he moved from the bed, then helped her rise as well. The surprise quickly changed to admiration. He was hard from head to toe. His body was lean, his muscles flexed with power without being ungainly.

She could understand now why her childhood panic had returned. Her difficulty breathing was due to stress, to emotional overloads, as the doctors had coined it. That was Grace, too damned emotional sometimes. She could handle watching her lover kill a suspected monster, but she couldn't handle the knowledge that he was imperative to her happiness.

Just as her father had been. Just as the knowledge of the danger he had faced had brought on the emotional attacks.

She had thought she was over them. Her father had just retired from the army a few years before, but she hadn't had an attack in more than six years. Until Matthias.

Because she loved him.

She shook her head as she followed him to the shower. They washed quickly, hunger of a different sort driving them now.

Showering with Matthias was a unique experience, though. He loved the water, and he hogged it. She had to push him back several times to get her share, and a wrestling match ensued for possession of the stream of water. She lost, of course, but he did hold her close enough to make certain she was both washed and rinsed from head to toe.

Then he made certain she was dry as well. By time he finished, Grace was ready to head back to the bed rather than to the kitchen.

"Food first. I need my energy." He inhaled slowly, his lashes lowering, as sensuality filled his expression. "Then we'll go to bed. Perhaps we'll even sleep sometime tonight."

He backed her against the bathroom wall, the heavy length of his cock burning against her lower stomach, as her hard nipples raked his chest.

Grace ran her palms over his biceps, then his shoulders, as his head lowered, and he licked the small spot where he had bitten her earlier. Sensation sang through the small wound, a clenching pleasure so deep and hot she rose to her tiptoes to prolong it.

He was definitely a bad boy. Tattooed, pierced, and arrogant as hell. She had seen that arrogance more than once over the past weeks. But he was gentle with her. He touched her like a dream, and he kissed her like fire.

"Food," he whispered regretfully against her lips, drawing back and staring down at her somberly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." She was so damned horny now she thought she might melt in a puddle at his feet.

They dressed in the bedroom and headed through the cabin to the kitchen.

The refrigerator was filled with cold cuts, vegetables, and cold water that the caretaker had stocked before her arrival. The freezer held a variety of packaged steaks and other frozen goodies.

She grabbed the meat from the refrigerator and some lettuce and tomatoes. Thick, fresh bread was wrapped and stored in the cabinet. She removed it and set it on the counter.

Matthias was unusually quiet as he moved through the kitchen, the living room, then back to the kitchen. His expression was somber, the way he watched her finally grating on her nerves.

"Is there a problem?" She laid the bread knife down and watched him closely. "If you're still considering killing me, I should point out that has to be against the rules, or something."

His lips quirked as he shook his head. "That would be worse than suicide."

"Then what's bothering you?" She set the bread on plates and began heaping them with meat, cheese, and veggies.

"I just thought of something." He slid his hand into the pockets of his leather pants as he faced her. "What were you doing in Albrecht's suite?"

"He left a message on my machine, demanding my presence. I thought I would see what his problem was before I left."

"Why did you come back?" He was frowning curiously.

Grace waggled her brows. "My bikini. I forgot it. It was new, and I wanted to wear it while I was on vacation. I love swimming in the lake."

The frown eased away, as his whiskey eyes lit with arousal.

Grace snickered at the look, as she picked up the plates and moved them to the kitchen table, before grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge.

"A bikini, huh?" he asked, taking his seat across from her. "What kind of bikini?"

"A little black bikini." She clenched her thighs, the burning in her clit was becoming a bit irksome. Surely to God she could get through a meal without attacking him?

"I'd like to see it," he murmured, picking up his sandwich and biting into it with strong, white teeth.

Teeth that had bitten her. She could feel the mark at her shoulder throbbing and irrationally wished he would lick it again.

She ate her sandwich with more determination than actual hunger now. After they finished, she quickly cleaned the dishes. And Matthias was still quiet.

He had moved from the kitchen to the living room, where he stood in front of the wide picture window, staring out at the lake.

He looked almost regretful.

Maybe Breeds didn't like women with a weakness, she thought morosely, remembering how her breathing had seized up. It was a stress reaction, it wasn't like she was terminally ill or anything. To be honest, her climaxes had terrified her. She had never come so hard, never felt such pleasure ripping through her. It was no wonder she had panicked a little, especially when his cock had thickened, spreading her further and sending her into another, sharper series of orgasms.

"The panic attacks aren't a big deal," she finally said as she stepped into the living room. "They go away eventually."

He turned to stare at her, his eyes narrowing, flicking to her breasts. Her nipples were poking against the soft material of her dark blue shirt, and her pussy was clenching in need.

Violent need.

It didn't make sense. Before, she hadn't ached like this, not to the point that it was physically painful.

"I'm not worried about the panic attacks. If you were ill, I'd detect the scent of it."

Okay. That told her.

She pushed her fingers through her hair and glared at him.

"Then why are you moping around like it's the end of the world? Did I do something wrong?"

Maybe she hadn't pleased him sexually. A man could get a little out of sorts when a woman failed to pick up on something he was wanting but was too stupid to ask for it.

His jaw clenched as he inhaled roughly. "You didn't do anything wrong."

She nodded sharply. "You know, I understand that being a Breed could make you more testosterone-impaired than most men tend to be. But I can't read your thoughts any more than I can read other men's. If something is wrong, I'd prefer you just get it out in the open rather than making me miserable by pulling the silent treatment. Trust me, I have several brothers, I can handle your delicate sensibilities."

His brow lifted, as amusement glittered briefly in his eyes. Amusement, arousal, and something undefined. Anger, perhaps.

"My male sensibilities are functioning fine," he assured her, the corner of his lips tilting wryly.

Grace crossed her arms over her breasts, almost gasping at the feel of the material of her shirt raking over her hard nipples.

"Then what's your problem?"

"You're in pain," he said softly. "Aren't you?"

Grace shifted uncomfortably. "Not really."

"I wanted to hide from you exactly what the mating would do to you," he finally sighed. "There's still so much we don't know about it, or its effects. I should have waited."

"Now, you're starting to frighten me, Matthias."

"Do you know that only two of our wolf mates have produced children? In one of those, the wolf's genetics were so recessed that the scientists theorize that it made conception easier for his mate. The other was so brutally experimented on that she still has nightmares."

Grace flinched at the thought of such pain. "The Felines seem to have no problem."

"More than you know," he sighed. "It's true, the original pride initially had success in conception, but after that, the heat continued during the females' ovulation periods, and no other babies were conceived. It's been ten years. Scheme Tallant, the mate to the felines' head of public relations, is now carrying twins. One child has been born to Merinus and Callan, one to Veronica Andrews, and one to Kane Tyler's mate, Sherra. There is one child born to Dash Sinclair and his mate, and to Aiden's mate, Charity. For the Wolves, conception has proved extremely difficult, and the heat extremely severe."

His voice was heavy, his expression dark, remorseful.

"I tried to be honest with you, Grace." He shook his head, his lips tightening with what she now knew was self-anger. "But I hungered for you." A frown creased his brow, as he stared back at her as though that hunger still confused him. "Even now, my control is less than it should be." His frown deepened. "I tried to tell myself it would be different between us, but I knew better."

Her sex clenched as slick juices spilled between her thighs.

"Do you think explaining it any further to me would have made a difference?" she asked "I'm not a child, and I'm not completely ignorant. Once you told me what you had, I remembered the tabloid stories, I knew I could be looking at more than you were telling me. Evidently, I didn't care."

His head tilted as he watched her with confusion. "How could you not care, Grace? It will change your life forever. Place you in danger. It will restrict your life and will turn you into a target for the scientists out there, who are determined to destroy us."

"And that's what bothers you the most," she said softly. "That danger. Admit it, Matthias. You're frightened."

His lips tightened. "I will protect you."

"No matter the cost," she guessed. "You're afraid that your attempts to protect me will cause me to hate you."

He growled. That sound sent rapid little bursts of near-ecstasy to explode through her vagina, as it tightened her clit further.

"That isn't all," he admitted. "They want our mates." He stared back at her, tortured, desperate. "The mating causes a decrease in aging. The couples who have mated are aging only one year per every five to ten years. You will live far longer than you ever imagined, and it's because of this that the rogue scientists are so desperate to get their hands on mated pairs."

Okay, now that was shocking. Grace stared back at him, her lips parting in disbelief.

"How much longer?" she asked.

He swallowed tightly. "We aren't certain, but there's rumors that the first Lion Breed created more than a century ago still lives, and that he and his mate are still in their prime."

"Whoa!" She breathed out, moving to the chair beside her and sitting down heavily. "That's definitely a decrease in aging." Her hand pressed against her lower stomach. "Does it stop after conception?"

He shook his head sharply. "Not that we've seen. Conception is so difficult that our doctors and scientists believe this is nature's way of ensuring the species. Until the babes have grown and we see how this aging affects them, we can't be certain of anything."

"Well, this definitely throws a little kink into things," she breathed out roughly. "You said Merinus and Callan have only one child? The reports state three. I remember that."

He shook his head. "There are three pride children. The press mistakenly reported the children as all belonging to the pride leader and his mate, and they didn't bother to correct it. They keep their mates closely guarded while they're pregnant, and out of the public eye. It's the only way to ensure their safety."

"And the wolf mates?"

His jaw flexed, a muscle ticking violently just under the flesh.

"No one knows where Dash Sinclair hides his family. Aiden and Charity stay on the Wolf Breed compound in Colorado and never leave it. Their child will be born under as much restriction as we were created in."

"And if I conceive?" she whispered.

"We'll have no choice but to return to Colorado. If it happens."

CHAPTER TWELVE

Grace rubbed at her bare arms as she stared back at Matthias, the irritating pinpoints of sensation racing over her flesh were driving her insane. She needed him to touch her, not stand there trying to explain things neither of them could change at this point.

"So, you're regretting not telling me all this before?" She leaned back in the chair and licked her lips, watching as his eyes darkened, his dark cheeks flushing a brick red, as his lips became fuller, his expression darker with lust.

"I should have told you." His nostrils flared as she lifted her hand and stroked it over her collarbone. Every inch of her body was tingling now, begging for him.

"Consider me told," she stated.

"What?" He was staring at her, almost dazed now, his hands slowly pulling from the pockets of his black leather pants. Pants that did nothing to hide the straining length of his arousal beneath them. He was thick and hard. She was wet and wild, and she needed him now.

"Look, this is all very interesting, and I'm sure I'm going to have questions eventually. You know, once the ramifications of the whole mating thing hits me? Sometime after you get your wolfie ass over here and fuck me."

His eyes narrowed, as his hands went to the black shirt he wore, his fingers sliding buttons from their holes, and his gaze gleaming now with pure lust.

"My wolfie ass?" He asked her softly, his voice dark, rough.

Grace slid her shorts from her body, leaving only the silk panties she wore, as his shirt was tossed to the floor. Her own shirt came off easily, as he sat down and pulled his boots and socks off.

She rose to her feet, and before he could rise from the wide, padded stool he had sat on, she was in front of him.

"You're slow." She knelt before him, pushing him back against the chair behind the stool, her fingers moving for the metal closures on his pants.

"So I am," he growled, his tight abs flexing as she parted the edges of the pants and revealed the straining length of his cock.

The piercing gleamed against the dark flesh.

"Why the piercing?" She asked, lowering her head to let her tongue worry the little ball at one end of the bar.

His hands slid into her hair, a tight groan leaving his throat.

"A reminder," he panted.

"What does it remind you of?" She held the hard shaft, turned her head, and sucked the upper side of the crest between her lips to allow her tongue to stroke around the jewelry with flickering movements.

"Freedom," he bit out. "It reminds me of freedom."

"Why?"

He tightened further as her teeth gripped the bar.

"We weren't allowed piercings or tattoos in the labs. Nothing that would identify us. Nothing that would make us individuals. It reminds me. I'm free."

Her heart clenched, and her soul bled for the pain that resonated in his voice. His freedom came down to his choice to be pierced and marked. His ability to be an individual.

She sank her mouth over the engorged head of his erection and sucked him in deep. She wanted the memory of that place wiped from his mind. She wanted it replaced with need, with hunger. For her.

He belonged to her.

He growled her name as he leaned back against the chair, sprawling across the stool and the chair cushion behind him. Her fingers stroked the thick shaft as his hands clenched in her hair, guiding her movements, showing her how to please him best.

He liked to feel her teeth raking gently along the crest. The way her tongue played with the bar piercing his flesh.

As she sucked his cock head, her hands pushed at his pants, sliding them over his thighs, and pushing them down his legs.

There, now she could explore flesh she had been dying to touch. His scrotum was silky and smooth, only the faintest hint of silky hairs covering it. It tightened as she cupped it in her palm then slid her nails over it.

"Grace," the growl in his voice was warning. "Leave me control, sweetheart. Don't push this."

Oh, a dare.

She opened her eyes, lifting them to meet his as her lips lifted from the throbbing crest and began to slide down the straining shaft.

He was breathing hard now, his hands gripping the arms of the chair rather than her hair.

"What control?" she whispered. "I don't have any, why should you?"

She wanted that loss of control. She wanted the wild man she glimpsed in his eyes, the bad boy she knew he was. Her lips moved lower, her tongue licking until she came to the tight, silky flesh of the sac below.

"Dammit. Grace," he cursed, but he arched to her, allowing her the freedom to lick over the tight flesh, to feel the straining tension there.

As she watched, a small spurt of pre-cum spilled from the slit on his cock head. He growled again, a thick rumbling sound of hunger that had her heart racing in excitement.

She used the slick fluid to ease the stroking of her hand along the shaft, feeling it flex beneath her fingers as her lips investigated his balls and her tongue flickered over the silken, tight flesh.

"You don't know what you're doing," Matthias snarled. "What you'll cause."

The fingers of her other hand moved lower, beneath the tense flesh of his scrotum and found the ultra-sensitive flesh beneath. She couldn't have anticipated his reaction.

She was only stroking the flesh between his balls and his anus, but he jerked, his hands gripping her shoulders and pulling her back as he jackknifed from the chair.

"I warned you," he bit out, his voice tight and hard, wicked with a sensual threat. "You want to play games, mate. Let me show you what happens when you do."

She had somehow released more than she had bargained for. Within seconds she found herself bent over the stool, Matthias behind her, and before she could stop him, his lips and tongue were moving along the cleft of her rear.

She should have been frightened, terrified. She had never been touched there, refusing to allow any previous lovers that freedom.

But Matthias wasn't asking for anything. His tongue was ravenous, licking and stroking, as his hands parted the full curves and he delved lower.

"Matthias!" She cried out his name, trying to lift herself from the wickedness of the caress, the stroke of his tongue over the entrance to her rear. Another stroke, then an entrance so shocking she began to shudder.

"I've been dying for this," he groaned behind her, his hands caressing over her ass as he rose, his cock tucking against the entrance.

"It's not going to fit," she gasped.

At the same time, she felt the first blast of the preseminal fluid explode from the tip of his cock and his cock sinking into the tight orifice.

Grace tried to writhe beneath him, but his hands held her in place, his cock parting her flesh marginally as the forbidden channel began to burn.

Sweet God, what was he doing to her? What was in the silky fluid that both lubricated and eased the passage she knew he was preparing to take?

With each spurt, he was able to sink deeper inside her, stretching the unbreached entrance, burning it with a pleasure/pain that had her screaming beneath him.

"I love your ass." His hands kneaded the curves. "I would watch you when you walk, my cock so damned hard I thought I would die, imagining this. Imagining taking you here, feeling you accept me. Submit to me."

Submit.

That was it. Grace could feel it in him. The dominance and power he had kept hidden from her. He had let her make nearly every decision in their relationship until now. He was ensuring his dominance now. Reinforcing the fact that he might give up a few things for her, but he still controlled this. He controlled her response. He controlled her sexuality.

She arched before him now, feeling another heated spurt of the fluid that relaxed and eased, even as it intensified sensation. She could feel the burn inside her anus, demanding more, demanding the hard stretching, the submission required to take him in.

"You're mine!" The declaration was made with a rough demand. "Say it, Grace. Mine."

"Yours," she panted. She wasn't about to argue. Not now. Not when he could stop and take the incredible sensations away from her.

He was thick and hard, hot and demanding, and with the aid of the slick, forceful jets of heated fluid, he was taking her, stretching her, forging inside her until his scrotum was pressed into the wet heat of her pussy, and his cock was fully embedded in her rear.

Then he was moving. He didn't pause. He didn't wait for her to make sense of the pleasure that mixed with the pain or the burning need and heated resistance.

His hands gripped her hips, and he began fucking her with slow, forceful thrusts. Each time he slid back another spurt of heated fluid sensitized her inner flesh further. Each forceful thrust was taken with slick ease and with a desperate cry.

He moved one hand from her hip, sliding between her thighs, his fingers surrounding her clit, stroking and milking it as his thrusts increased.

She could feel the drag of the bar that pierced his cock, an added sensation that dragged a desperate breath from her lungs. His thighs braced hers, his balls slapped against sensitive flesh, and within seconds Grace felt her release racing through her.

She bucked beneath him at the hard explosions that began to shudder through her. Pleasure became an agony of ecstasy. Sensation became waves of desperate, clenching release that she was certain she would never survive. As one would recede, another would build. As the thickening of his cock filled her ass and his spurts of release began to burn inside her, another took her, shook her, and had her fighting to scream.

She was writhing, jerking beneath him, held still by his body as he came over her, his lips covering the mark he had made on her shoulder earlier, his tongue stroking it as his sharp teeth held her in position.

She was lost. Lost in the orgasms pouring over her, and the mental and physical submission racing through her. She belonged to Matthias, just as he belonged to her. And the knowledge wasn't scary. It was right. For the first time in her life, belonging to someone was just right.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The horrible craving for Matthias's touch had finally eased as the day gave way to night. He forced her into the shower again, chuckling as she leaned against his chest and tried to doze while he bathed her. It was a good thing he still had some strength in his legs, because hers was shot.

She was limp, physically and mentally sated, and sleepier than she could ever remember being in her life. When he finally carried her to the bed and tucked her in close to his chest, a satisfied little sigh left her lips.

Her lips smoothed over the curved bar, secured at both ends by small silver balls that pierced his nipple. The metal was warm from the warmth of his flesh and reminded her of what he had said about his reasons for getting the piercings. To remind him of his freedom, his individuality. He was pierced and tattooed, scarred inside and out, and he was the most beautiful creation on the face of the earth, as far as she was concerned.

The thin scar that ran from his brow, across his eyelid, and halfway down his cheek was barely noticeable to her, though she ached often at the thought of the pain he must have felt when he was wounded.

He was a bad boy. There was no doubt about that. Wicked, carnal, intense, and arrogant. But when he held her, his arms were gentle, his hands tender as he soothed her closer to sleep.

"My dad would like you." She yawned as she snuggled closer to him. "My brothers would, too."

She felt his hand still on her back where he had been stroking her spine.

"Do you think they would?" His voice might sound unconcerned, but Grace knew him now, and she knew that strained edge to his tone was one of hope.

"I know they would." She was confident of it.

"Why would they like me?" he asked her. "I don't look like any man's vision of a son-in-law, Grace." Stark, almost bleak, his regret washed over her, forcing her to blink tears from her eyes.

"You're strong, honest. You stare people in the eye when you speak to them, and I love you. Trust me, Dad won't be able to resist you. And of course, Mom is just going to be in heaven. She'll think you need fattened up. She'll bake you homemade pies and bread and spoil you every chance she gets with her best dishes."

"Why would she do that?" Confusion lingered in his tone.

Grace moved her head back, staring up at him in the dark. "Because she'll love you, Matthias. That's what mothers do. My brothers will teach you how to play touch football, and their wives will ogle your ass when they aren't looking. My sisters-in-law are exceptionally intelligent. They know a fine male form when they see one."

Matthias stared down at her, frowning. She was talking as though his acceptance within her family was a done deal, without him having to make concessions or scrape for it. That couldn't be true. Nothing had ever come so easily to him. He had to fight for everything. It was accepted.

"Your father and your brothers will see me for what I am, Grace," he warned her, hating that fact. "They'll want you to choose another man. Accept that now."

He felt her surprise, then her amusement at the soft laugh that wrapped around him. "Oh, Matthias, you just don't understand families," she whispered into the darkness. "Daddy will take one look at you, and he'll take you out to his shed where he tried to fool us into believing he's building something. He'll give you a beer and interrogate you for hours as he puts you to work sanding this or that, or using a hammer. That's his form of acceptance. Trust me. He's going to love you."

"I don't know how to sand or hammer." For the first time in his life Matthias wondered if he was feeling an edge of fear.

"My brothers will follow along, of course," she informed him, as he felt a curl of trepidation. "They'll grin and smirk, as Daddy questions you, throw out a few questions of their own, then grab the football and rescue you."

"I don't know how to play football." He cleared his throat nervously.

"That's okay, they don't either," she assured him drowsily, confusing him further. "And while the neighborhood guys gather around in the back lot to teach you how not to play football, Mom will be cooking up a storm, and me and the sisters-in-law will be admiring your manly butt and broad shoulders. But don't wear leather to plan football in. You need jeans."

"I always wear leather." It was slicker, harder to grip. It didn't make as much sound when one moved, and he had grown accustomed to it.

"You wear jeans to meet Mom and Dad, so you can play ball with the boys." She yawned again, as though compliance with her little demands were a foregone conclusion. "And remember, Mom makes the best cherry pie in the world. And she still makes homemade vanilla ice cream. You'll love it."

He was certain he would, but that wasn't the point.

"Grace, don't get your hopes up," he whispered, pressing his cheek to the top of her head, as his eyes closed in despair.

She wasn't like him, she had a family, interaction, a life outside of him. He only had her.

"You'll see." She sighed, her body relaxing against him. "You'll see, my family is going to love you."

Her father and brothers would likely warn him away from her with a weapon. When that didn't work, they would complain to the Bureau of Breed Affairs. When that didn't work, they would attempt to turn Grace against him.

He hadn't considered this, the reaction of her family. Hell, he hadn't considered her family at all, and that had been a mistake. He could hear her love for them in her voice. They were important to her. She would hate losing them. She would hate him, if she lost them because she was bound to him by the mating heat.

Matthias could feel sweat beading on his brow. What the hell would he do when that happened? Grace didn't know, she had no concept of how important she was to him. She was his life. She was every dream he had ever dreamed in the hell of the labs. And after his release, the thought of the woman who would eventually fill his life had been his every hope for the future. The first time he had seen her, he had known she would carry his soul through eternity. Life or death, it wouldn't matter, he belonged to Grace Anderson.

And she belonged to her family.

There had to be a way to ensure her family's compliance, he thought. He had money. He could make certain they had no legal difficulties. He could kill their enemies.

No, no killing. Grace wouldn't like that. Okay, he could make their enemies wish they were dead. He had a few resources he could draw on. Men understood such matters. At least, the non-Breed men he knew understood such matters. Were father's and brothers somehow different?

Surely they couldn't be. They were still men. He might not be good enough for Grace, but he could find a way to ensure that they didn't hurt her by turning their backs on her when she refused to toss him free of her life, like she should the mutt he was certain they would believe he was.

He resumed stroking her back, using just his fingertips, relishing the feel of her satiny flesh. He knew she longed to live closer to her parents. He could buy her a home near them, that would surely earn him a few good points.

Damn. He would have to make plans to deal with this one. Research her family before he went to meet them. He would have to research them extensively. Perhaps he'd get lucky, and if worse came to worse, he could find something to hold over their heads to ensure that Grace wasn't hurt.

Because there wasn't a doubt in his mind that they would want him out of her life. He was a Breed. Part animal. He wasn't a man, he was a creation. A freak of science. No man who loved his daughter would want such a mate for her. Hell, he wouldn't want it for his own daughter, why would her father want such a thing?

And he was a killer. Or, he had been a killer.

A smile quirked at the corners of his lips. He had a feeling that before it was over with, many of his habits would be changing. But, that was okay. He was looking forward to it. She was soft and gentle, and as long as he could forestall the problems he knew would come with her family, then he could ensure she stayed soft and gentle with him.

Losing her would kill him, he knew that. Even without the mating heat, his soul was already bound to her in a way that he knew he would never be free of.

He kissed her head, loving the feel of her against his chest, a delicate weight that warmed him to his core.

He would figure out this family thing, for her. He wasn't so certain about the football, though. He had never touched a football in his life, though he had watched other Breeds attempting to learn during his stay on Wolf Mountain in Colorado.

Dealing with her family's hatred of him would be a small price to pay to have her in his life. He would pretend not to notice it, make himself as unobtrusive as possible, and should they need any help in anything, he would take care of the matter.

He nodded with a barely discernible movement. That should work. And if worse came to worse… he sighed. If worse came to worse, he would deal with it. She was worth it to him.

"I love you, Grace," he whispered against her hair.

He loved her laughter, her smile. The way her nose wrinkled when he teased her, the way her ears twitched when he kissed them.

She shifted against him as though trying to burrow deeper into his chest, and he let a smile tilt his lips and gathered her closer to him. His arms surrounded her, his head bent over hers, and he let her legs tangle with his.

His body was now as bound by her as his soul was. Silken limbs encased him, and soft breaths fell against his chest.

For the first time in his life, Matthias closed his eyes and slept while a woman lay tangled with his own body. He had never before been able to relax with a lover. But damn if he could help it. She had worn him out. She was as enthusiastic in their sex play as she was at everything else she did. Maybe a bit more so, he thought, as he remembered her nails raking his back and her demands for harder, faster, now, echoing in his head.

Yeah, definitely more enthusiastic in their love play was his last, distant thought as breathed out in exhaustion and let sleep throw its final web across his senses.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dawn wasn't far from making its first appearance over the horizon when Matthias came awake with a start. The scent of diseased perversions and hatred filled his senses, as he pressed his hand over Grace's lips and brought her quickly awake.

"Danger," he growled softly at her ear, while he pressed the panic button at the side of his watch. Jonas was their only hope. "Dress quickly."

He moved out of the bed, pulling her with him and tossing her the clothes he had insisted she keep by the bed, just in case. Jeans, a T-shirt, and light jacket. Thick socks and hiking boots.

He jerked his leather pants on, a black shirt, socks, and boots. Within seconds he was dressed and pulling his duffel bag away from the wall.

His weapons were there. The tools of his trade. He strapped the pistol to his thigh, knives against the underside of his arms. He tucked a backup pistol in one boot, a dagger in the other. He grabbed the shorter model automatic rifle he used for warfare.

"Matthias?" Grace whispered in fear, as he grabbed her wrist and moved her quickly from the bedroom.

They didn't have much time. He could feel the coyote soldiers moving in, could smell their blood-drenched souls, but they hadn't surrounded the house yet.

"It's okay. Just do as I say, and we'll be fine."

He prayed. Oh God he prayed, as he quickly unlocked the window on the far side of the living room and lifted it soundlessly.

He dropped to the ground, then lifted Grace from the ledge, as she attempted to follow him. She was shaking, but stayed silent. Silent was good. It could have been their ticket out of there, if it weren't for the smell of her heat.

The soft scent of mating arousal was unmistakable. There was no way to hide it. That meant their asses were in a sling, if Jonas didn't get here fast.

Matthias made certain they were downwind of the coyote soldiers, who had attempted to come in downwind themselves. But the winds in the mountains were capricious. At some point they had shifted, betraying the coyotes' advance while hiding his escape with Grace, for the time being.

He didn't dare use the vehicle they had driven up in. The sound of a motor would betray them instantly. That left their feet. He only prayed he could get her far enough away to ensure a fighting chance at saving his mate's life.

What the hell had made him think he could have this time with her? That he could possibly steal just a few days of peace?

Somehow, he must have missed the signs that he was being watched. Only a coyote could have scented the mating heat building between him and Grace before he kidnapped her. But how had he missed a coyote trailing him?

Matthias kept Grace close to his side, as he moved from the house to the sheltering trees that ran along the rough track leading into the cabin. He kept to the far side, knowing the coyotes were moving up along the upper side.

The breeze drifted around him, bringing the smell of them to him and causing his lip to lift in a snarl of hatred. If he were alone, he would have gone hunting. He would have killed every fucking mongrel that thought he could blindside Matthias this way.

But he wasn't alone. At his side, his mate was struggling to keep up with him, trying not to breathe too hard, to stay as quiet as possible.

As a twig crunched under her feet, he throttled a curse and wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he felt her tears against his shoulder. Tears he wished he could shed.

There was no time for tears now. He had to get her as far away from danger as possible. There were a few other cabins farther down the mountain; there had been vehicles there as they drove in. If he could steal one and get a head start…

That wasn't going to happen.

He caught the scent of the coyotes' change of direction and knew he was fucked. Somehow, they had figured out that he and Grace had left the cabin, and now they were on his ass.

"Leave me," she whispered in his ear, as he found a faint animal path and began to move faster along it. "You can get away on your own."

"It's you they want, Grace."

She shuddered at his words and pressed her face tighter into his shoulder.

"It doesn't matter." Her voice trembled at the words. "I know how to hide. You can get away and go for help."

He would have howled then, if he could have. She honestly thought he would allow her to sacrifice herself? For him?

"You're wasting your time," he growled. "I won't leave you."

Even in death, he would follow by her side. But he didn't intend to die. If ever there had been a time when he intended to live, then it was now.

"Four. I have you."

Matthias slid to a stop at the sound of the number he had been known by in the labs. Not a name, by all means they shouldn't believe they had the rights that even pets had. No, they were known by numbers. He had been the fourth Breed created in the Albrecht lab in the German mountains.

Matthias stared at the six coyote soldiers that stepped from the surrounding trees. Behind them stood Vidal Velasco, the Spanish directorate of genetic protocols.

It was this bastard who had chosen the women who were kidnapped for the European labs and used for their ovum and life-giving wombs. It was he who had decided which woman would be released and which woman would be bred to death. It was this bastard who had slit the throat of the surrogate that had birthed Matthias.

Matthias had been five when Vidal had gathered three of the Breed children in that lab together, called this woman their mother, then slid his blade over the weakened female's throat. Even then Matthias had recognized the thankfulness in the woman's eyes at her realization that the horrors she had been suffering were over.

"I hear you have chosen a name for yourself, Four," Vidal's mocking, aquiline features were illuminated by the glow of the full moon, as it peeked from the clouds above.

Vidal was much older now, nearing his seventies, Matthias knew, but he moved like a much younger man, his black eyes glowing in the night, his short gray hair gleaming.

Even now, he wore a dark gray suit. His black shirt was dull against his swarthy flesh, his gray tie cinched snug at his neck. Matthias bet he was wearing the overly expensive leather shoes he was partial to, as well.

Vidal was nothing if not precise and neat in appearance and action. Even when he was killing.

Matthias lowered Grace to her feet, keeping his arm wrapped snugly around her, as he checked the position of each coyote. He held his rifle in one arm, his finger on the responsive trigger, as the coyotes began to spread out behind him.

"You picked the wrong night, Vidal," Matthias growled. "I'm not in the mood for you."

Inside, he was praying. He needed the coyotes closer together, not farther apart. He needed just one chance to catch them in a spray of bullets and to keep them from shooting Grace.

If he died, he would die knowing he left his mate to these monsters. He couldn't allow that to happen. Grace must survive.

"Is she breeding yet, Four?" Vidal asked him in his precise, flawless English. "I hear wolves are having a difficult time transitioning from animal to man when they take their mates. Have you managed that yet?"

Matthias watched Vidal carefully. He stood just behind two of the protective coyotes whose weapons were aimed, not at Matthias, but at Grace.

"When the shooting starts, I'm taking you out first, Vidal," Matthias said. "My bullets will tear right through your coyote pets and enter your chest. I won't miss."

Vidal frowned. "Now, Four, we don't have to be antisocial about this," he chastised Matthias. "Just give us your pretty girlfriend, and we'll let you run for a while longer."

Matthias lifted his lip in a mocking snarl. "I think you know that's not going to happen. I'm well aware of the experiments the council scientists are running. I'd kill her before I'd let you get your hands on her."

Vidal crossed his arms over his chest, as Matthias tracked each soldier with his eyes and with his senses. He would have one chance to get Grace out of this alive. If the coyotes continued to surround him, he would have just enough room to drop and roll Grace to the small, rocky crevice next to them. It would provide the barest cover, but perhaps enough for him to cover her body with his own, as he tried to take the coyotes out.

"I can't believe you allowed yourself to be caught so easily." Vidal's teeth flashed in the darkness. "You had a coyote on your ass the whole time you were courting Miss Anderson and never realized it. Have you grown soft, Four?"

Matthias shook his head. He had wondered about that.

"There was no coyote tracking me. You got lucky, nothing more. Seems fate shines on the diseased and soulless at odd times after all."

The scent of Vidal's anger began to pour around him. It made the coyotes nervous, as well it should. Vidal never could handle a Breed who dared talk back. It was one of his failings.

"Why did the directorate decide to send you on this little mission anyway?" Matthias shifted closer to the shadowed natural indention in the earth, as he watched Vidal. "Did they decide they didn't like you after all?"

"I am part of the directorate, you ignorant mutt," Vidal snapped.

"But not the head of it," Matthias pointed out, knowing well the ego that filled the bastard. "Are you certain they didn't send you on a suicide mission, Vidal? Every assassin you've sent after me has failed. What makes you think you could succeed?"

"I tracked you. I trapped you. With your mate," the other man gloated.

"Everyone gets lucky sometimes." He turned to glance around him, shifting ever closer to the rocky ledge that dropped into a four-foot ditch that water and erosion had created. "I think you just got lucky this time." He turned back to Vidal once more, giving him a cool smile. "Will your luck hold out?"

"Give me the woman, or the coyotes will fill her with holes, Four. My patience is wearing quite thin with your taunting."

Grace was shaking in his arms, but for each move he made, she slid into place with him. Her hands gripped the arm wrapped around her waist, and her body was tense, prepared. He could smell her fear, but he could also smell her determination to live.

Unfortunately, for them to live, their enemies had to die. The thought of shedding more blood in front of her was abhorrent to him. He had promised her the killing would stop. He had promised himself that for her, he would no longer kill. And yet, the cycle the council had began couldn't be stopped. Not for Matthias, not for any of them.

"I'll just have a bullet put in your head," Vidal sneered. "And I'll take your woman from your lifeless body. I hear it's quite painful for a woman after having been mated by you creatures, to be touched by another. Perhaps I'll get lucky, and my coyote was right when he sensed the possibility of her fertility. Is she carrying your pup?"

"Perhaps." He felt Grace's start of surprise. She wasn't carrying his child, he would know it if she were. But the thought of that could keep the coyotes from directing their bullets at her. "But you'll never know one way or the other," Matthias assured him. "Because you'll be dead."

"I will listen to her screams, just as Benedikt and I listened to the last bitch we dissected to get the brat she carried," Vidal sneered. "Her mate begged for her life, Matthias. Will you beg for your mate's life?"

And what of the child? Sweet God, what were those monsters doing now? Matthias remembered the sight of the female mate. She had been cut in so many places, sliced to ribbons. There had been no way to tell exactly what the scientists were looking for. If they had successfully removed a fetus from her body, though… His stomach twisted at the thought.

He lowered his head just enough to whisper, "I love you."

Her fingers tightened on his arm.

"Whispering your good-byes?" Vidal sneered.

Matthias moved.

His fingers tightened on the trigger, fire erupting into the night, as he threw Grace into the shallow ditch, then twisted and jumped in behind her, his gunfire still lighting the night, as he pushed her to move.

He could smell the blood behind him, but he could also hear Vidal's enraged screams. Matthias pulled Grace up the small gorge rather than running down it. Just ahead was a stand of boulders. If he could reach it, he might be able to hold them off long enough for Jonas to make it.

He had felt the answering vibration at the back of his watch against his wrist moments before. Jonas was on his way, and he wouldn't be too far off. The locator on the watch only sent out a short-range signal. He wouldn't have been able to detect Jonas's reply unless he was within range of the watch's tracker.

He pushed Grace behind the boulders, cursing as bullets rained around them. He pushed her to the rocky ground, moving to a crack between the boulders and began shooting back.

A slender hand jerked the Glock remake from the holster at his thigh. Sensing her intent, Matthias quickly shrugged the ammo pack from his back and prayed she knew how to use the weapon.

"Grace, if anything happens to me…" he growled back at her.

"Shut up and keep shooting. Nothing's going to happen to you." Her voice was shaking, terrified.

Matthias sighted a coyote soldier moving in closer, using the trees for cover. He gave the bastard one last chance to stay in place, and when he moved, Matthias fired.

One down, but there were more. And they were smarter about keeping cover.

"Jonas is on his way," he told her. "We just have to stay in place and stay alive. We'll be fine."

"Of course we will." Her voice was weak, thready.

The smell of gunfire filled the air, as Matthias continued to fire into the darkness, praying he would get lucky.

"Four, you're making me angry," Vidal called out. "You know I'll punish the woman for this."

Amazingly enough, Grace was the one that fired. She was kneeling at his feet, aiming low. A scream of coyote rage echoed in the night. She had obviously hit what she had aimed at.

"Stay put, and stay down," he ordered her, as he glimpsed a flash of gray moving through the underbrush. Vidal was trying to move into sight of the only weak point of their cover.

"I've got your back." Fear seemed to be making her voice tremble.

Matthias moved to the opening behind them, slipped past it, and waited. Behind him, Grace was firing. Occasionally a grunt or curse could be heard from the darkness. The smell of blood was thick in the air, but the smell of Vidal's treachery was thicker.

He moved closer. Closer.

Matthias lifted the rifle and watched, waited. Just a little to the right, he thought. He almost had him.

Vidal's graying head peeked from the tree that had been sheltering him, and Matthias fired. The bullet zipped through the night, struck Vidal's forehead, and the bastard went down.

Enforcers filled the area at the same time. Dozens of them were falling from the sky, sliding down black nylon ropes suspended from the night-black, silent heli-jet that had moved in overhead.

Matthias shook his head at Jonas's timing and slid back into the shelter to collect his mate.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Grace had never given much thought to death. Her thoughts since meeting Matthias had been filled with dreams for the future and plans to show him all the little intricacies of being part of a family. But when she felt the bullet tear into her chest, death was uppermost in her mind.

Strangely, it wasn't pain she felt. It was cold, not hot. It seemed to fill her body with ice rather than the burning pain she would have imagined. She was numb, yet able to move.

She had to move. She had to help Matthias. Just this one last time, she had to do something for him.

She managed to get his gun out of his holster and help hold the coyote soldiers back, determined to at least take a few with her if she did die. Matthias couldn't help her until this was dealt with, so she fought to hold back the ragged cries that tore at her chest.

Not from pain. She was numb to the pain, just aware of it. She wanted to cry because of what she was losing. As she felt herself growing weaker, felt the haze of blood loss engulfing her mind, she thought of leaving Matthias forever. She thought of the pain he would feel when she was gone.

It had taken her weeks to get a smile out of him, and she remembered the thrill the sound of his first laugh had brought her. She had a feeling Matthias hadn't often had occasion to laugh.

As Grace lay on the ground staring into the crack between the boulders, the gun dropped from her hand, and a whimper of agony left her lips.

She didn't want to leave him. She wanted to watch him play football with her brothers. She wanted to see her mother fuss over him and realize her father's approval of him.

"Matthias," she whispered, finally feeling him beside her again.

The gunfire had abated. Were the coyotes all dead? She hoped they were. She wanted them all dead.

"Grace. Grace!" She heard the panic in his voice, felt his hands as he turned her over, and knew he saw the blood.

She blinked up at him.

Shock, rage, agony creased his face, filled his dark eyes, and sent pain raging through her. She hated seeing the pain in his face.

Dawn was moving in, lighting the shelter they hid in, shadowing his scarred face, his incredible whiskey eyes.

He was screaming. She could hear him screaming, though what he said didn't make sense.

She lifted her hand to touch him. Just one last touch. Oh God, she didn't want to leave him. She wanted to lie with him one more time, she wanted his kiss again, to feel his touch.

"Matthias," she whispered. She loved his name, loved his face, and his heart.

"Don't you leave me, Grace." He was pressing something to her chest. "Do you hear me? Don't you leave me."

He was so arrogant. He was glaring at her, as though his refusal to let her go was all that was needed.

"Grace I swear to God, if you die, I'll never wear jeans. I'll never eat pie. I'll shoot fucking football players. Don't you die on me!"

She smiled. She was so glad it didn't hurt. That was so strange, the pain should have been agonizing.

"I love you, Matthias," she told him softly. "Like the earth loves the rain, like the flowers love the sun."

She was so tired. So tired and so frightened. She didn't want to leave him.

Her breathing hitched as the tears she couldn't hold back any longer began to fall from her eyes.

"Grace!" He was screaming at her, as her lashes fluttered. "Ah God, Grace, stay with me! Stay with me!"

She was so tired. She touched his face, feeling his hand clasp her fingers to his rough cheeks, and she fought to smile back at him.

Like a flower loves the sun… that thought drifted through her mind again. He warmed her like that. The sun warmed the flowers. "I love you."

She couldn't stay with him any longer. She tried. She tried until a silent scream was echoing in her head, because she could feel herself drifting away from him, and she couldn't stop it.

As her eyes drifted closed and rich darkness engulfed her, she could have sworn she heard a wolf cry.

Matthias…

* * *

"LET the medic work on her, Matthias!" Jonas was screaming in his face, as Matthias fought the hands pulling him away from Grace.

She was so weak. The smell of her blood was in his brain, and agony beat at him with blows harsher than any he had received in the labs.

Matthias fought like the beast he was to tear away from the Breeds restraining him. To get to Grace. To hold her to him.

"You mangy fucking wolf, listen to me." Jonas's forearm slammed into Matthias's throat, driving his head back against the boulder.

Matthias let out another bloodcurdling howl of agony.

"She's alive, Matthias, but if you don't fucking calm down, we won't be able to help her. Do you understand me? We won't be able to help her."

Silver eyes flashed in the dawn light, the savage expression of the Lion Breed who was helping to restrain him finally took shape.

"Jonas! Grace…"

"Help us, Matthias, don't go wild on me," Jonas snarled, his canines flashing dangerously. "She's alive. If we're going to keep her alive, we have to move fast, and you have to keep your head."

The forearm across his throat flexed powerfully, as Matthias struggled against him again.

"Can you keep your fucking head, Matthias?" Jonas yelled in his face.

"As long as she breathes," he screamed back.

"Good! Let's get going." Jonas released him, and only then did Matthias see the basket that Grace had been strapped into and the medic working furiously to keep her alive.

"Jump in." Jonas pushed him to the wide metal basket used to transport the wounded from the ground to the hovering heli-jet above. "You and the medic. The hospital has been notified, and Drs. Armani and Morrey are en route."

Matthias clutched the side of the basket, as he knelt on one side of Grace, the medic on the other. An IV was strapped to her arm, a compress on her chest.

Sweet God, they had shot her in the chest. He felt the grief raging inside him now, the knowledge he could lose her, and he knew he would never bear the pain of it.

She had to live. Without her, he would never be warm again.

As the Breeds waiting in the transport heli-jet secured the basket, the hum of the craft grew louder.

He heard the report the medic was transmitting to the hospital in New York City. Her vitals, the site of her wound and its depth. She was on oxygen and had an IV. Surgeons were waiting, and the Breed doctors were on their way.

Within minutes the heli-jet was landing, and they were taking Grace away from him. She was loaded onto a stretcher and rushed across the roof as a second heli-jet landed and deposited the two doctors, who had been redirected from a flight to Virginia just minutes behind Jonas.

Drs. Armani and Morrey rushed across the landing area and followed the gurney. Within seconds, the heli-jets lifted off and left Matthias alone.

He stood on the hospital roof, staring around at the blinking lights, the buildings that rose like sentinels around them, and felt a striking loneliness fill his soul.

They had taken Grace away from him. Because of him, she was hurt, possibly dying. Alone.

Matthias stared down at his scarred hands and saw her blood, heard the ragged growl that tore from his throat. He was lost.

He stared around the rooftop again and realized that clear to his soul, without Grace, he was simply lost.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Toe Anderson entered the surgery waiting room, his wife, sons, and their families closing in behind him. He knew him the moment he saw the young man Jonas Wyatt had told him to look for.

Wearing black leather, streaked with blood, his face resting in his broad hands, as long, night-black hair flowed around them.

He sat alone. The other families awaiting word on their loved ones were gathered at the other side of the room, casting wary looks his way.

Matthias Slaughter.

Grace had told him about Matthias, of course. Not what he looked like, or about the air of danger that surrounded him. She told him things only a woman would think of. Things like his sadness, his wariness, and how he made her feel.

Joe sighed heavily. This man made his daughter feel alive. Grace had said, "As though there's adventure around every corner, Daddy." And she had laughed. But he had heard the love in that laughter.

This was his daughter's man. That made him family. No matter what.

Matthias's head lifted, and the scarred face looked around, as he swiped the overly long black hair back from his face. He was an imposing figure. Standing to his feet, Matthias paced over to the windows, looked out, paced back to the small table, sat down, and tried to blend into the shadows of the room.

Joe could see the man's attempts to become invisible, and it bothered him. Jonas hadn't said much about this Wolf Breed enforcer, but Joe had learned years ago how to read between the lines. And what he had sensed rather than heard, made him ache for the young man.

Joe fought back his own fear, his own anger at the thought of his daughter lying in surgery, a bullet in her chest, her life hanging on the line.

Daddy, I love you like the flowers love the sunshine. And you know they love it, 'cause they open right up and spread their petals like arms. Have you noticed that, Daddy? They hug the sun, because it keeps them safe and warm. That's why I love hugging you Daddy. You keep me safe and warm.

He had to blink back his tears at the memory of her, barely ten, trying to wheedle her way out of some trouble she had gotten into at school. Grace had been his wild child. She had fought and scrapped, climbed trees, and jumped into water that was invariably over her head. Just as she had this time.

And just as he had always known she would, she had picked a man strong enough to follow her into adventure. Grace loved adventure. She restrained it now, worked hard, and never got into trouble. But she still liked to climb trees, and she still liked the deeper waters.

"There he is. Joe why are you just standing here?" His wife, Janet, moved around him, her still-shapely figure drawn tight with fear for her daughter and worry for this Breed that their daughter spoke so highly of.

Matthias Slaughter was streaked with dirt and their daughter's blood, and his expression was haggard, bordering on savage. The sight of him broke Joe's heart.

As Joe stood there, Janet and his three daughters-in-law left him alone with his silent sons. Grace's older brothers were a lot like Joe. They watched and assessed.

Joe looked back and saw their eyes, and knew the boys saw the same thing he did. A man almost broken. The Breeds had lived horrifying lives. If that Jonas Wyatt's expression was anything to go by, then this Breed had known hell as few others had.

If he loved Grace as Wyatt said this man did, then the fear he would be feeling right now would be staggering.

He watched as Janet, with her mussed, shoulder-length gray hair and petite figure, fearlessly walked right up to that Breed.

The man's head lifted, and his eyes were alive with rage and agony, as he stared up at Janet. Joe knew the moment Matthias realized who she was. His expression clenched, his reddened eyes turned moist, and he whispered in a rough, growling voice, "She's my sunshine…"

Joe knew in that moment, Matthias Slaughter was family.

* * *

MATTHIAS wasn't ready for Grace's family. They would be angry, enraged at the danger he had brought to their daughter. There would be no buying or threatening their acceptance now. If she lived, they would demand his immediate removal from her life, and by God, he couldn't blame them.

He stared at his hands. He couldn't wash Grace's blood from them, it was all he had left to hold on to, her blood covering his flesh, reminding him that her love hadn't been a dream. It had been real. As real as the fight she was waging for her life right now.

When he looked up at the figure that moved to stand beside the table, he had immediately been snared by Grace's eyes. Soft, gray, tear-filled eyes in a lined face.

"Matthias, I'm Grace's mother." Her voice was soft, like a whisper of acceptance, and his heart clenched at the pain of it.

"I love her like the sun," he whispered, needing them to know before they accused him, before they raged at him. "She's my sunlight," he repeated.

And he could have never expected what happened next. Tears fell from those soft gray eyes, as she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder.

His arms gripped her, as she began to cry. His eyes lifted to the other women surrounding him, and to the men who watched him silently.

There was no condemnation. They all looked at him with compassion, especially the older man, the father, whose eyes reddened from the tears he held inside.

"I'm sorry." He was, to the bottom of his soul, so bleakly sorry that she had taken that bullet instead of him. He would give his life to trade places with her. He had offered his life to God to take him instead. He had prayed, bargained, raged, and begged the Almighty not to take his sunlight.

The father nodded once. He moved forward then, drew his wife from Matthias's embrace, pulled chairs back from the table for both of them, and introduced Grace's family to him. As though he weren't the enemy. As though it was important he know who they were.

"Not the first time she's been in surgery." Joe cleared his throat, as he sat beside his wife and wrapped his arm around her. "Remember when she was six, Janet?" He cleared his throat as Matthias stared back at him in confusion. "She fell out of that tree and started bleeding internally. I thought we were going to lose her then."

The three sons nodded, the women smiled watery smiles.

Matthias stared at them. "I have money." He clenched his hands on the table. "I have some small connections." They stared back at him questioningly. "I know I didn't protect her well this time." He stared at the blood on his hands. "I'll do better." He lifted his gaze to the father. "I'll make certain I do better in the future." His teeth clenched. He had sworn he would beg if he had to. "Don't take her from me."

Joe blinked, lowered his head, and shook it.

"I won't let it happen again."

Joe lifted his eyes once again. "Matthias…"

"I can't live without her." He meant to beg, but it came out as a growl of fury. "She would be torn between us. I don't want this…"

"Matthias." It was Janet that reached out to him. She placed her hand on his, over Grace's blood, and caught his eyes with hers.

"We all love Grace. And if she loves you, then you're family. You don't buy acceptance, son. You don't bargain for it. It's there or it's not. You love her, and we accept you because of that. But, she loves you. Because of that, you're family."

"You don't know me." He shook his head, terrified and confused, certain they had to hate him. They had to be hiding it, for Grace's sake.

"We'll get to know you." Joe's voice was a warning.

Matthias latched onto that. A warning. He knew how to handle that.

He stared back at the father, whose lips suddenly quirked with hidden knowledge. "Trust me, we'll all get to know each other. Grace will make certain of it."

He could handle that. Matthias nodded sharply before sliding his hand back from Grace's mothers touch. He breathed out roughly, stared around the room, then froze as Dr. Armani, the head Wolf Breed doctor and scientist entered the room with her feline counterpart, Elyiana Morrey.

He jerked to his feet. Their expressions were pale, their lab coats wrinkled, and exhaustion marred their features.

"Nikki." He took a step toward her, then froze again.

They were watching him quietly, their gazes flickering over the family, who finally also came to their feet.

He had prayed over the past hours. He had bargained with God. He had begged for just one more chance and offered his life for hers. He had pleaded with a being that hadn't created him, but one Matthias prayed would bless him.

"It was close," Nikki finally said, a smile creasing her dark, exotic features. "But she's alive, Matthias…"

Two months later

"I told you to wear jeans." Grace was laughing at him, her gray eyes shining with happiness, as tears of mirth rolled down her cheeks. "Didn't I warn you to wear jeans?"

"Shut up, Grace," he growled, attempting to peel the wet leather from his legs as he stood in the middle of their bedroom, dripping from sweat and the pain. "Those brothers of yours are fucking insane," he snarled violently. "Have I ever mentioned they are fucking crazy?" His voice rose at the accusation.

She was laughing. She was standing in the middle of the floor, her arms across her stomach, and she bent over, struggling to breathe as she laughed at him.

She was barely healed from the wound she had taken the night the coyotes attacked them. It had been slow progress, until Dr. Armani had given her a transfusion of Matthias's blood. After that, her recovery had moved quickly. Although the blood they had given her in surgery saved her life, her body had attempted to reject it. The unique qualities of the hormones in her body had fought it, and fought her recovery, until Matthias's blood had been added to it.

It shouldn't have worked. Their blood types didn't match, and his Breed blood should have been an instant poison to her system. Instead, from the moment it was introduced, she had begun to heal.

Now, two months later, she was standing here laughing her ass off at him because he was coated with mud and grime and struggling to get his damned pants off.

"I told you, jeans," she reminded him, finally straightening. "Geeze, Matthias, you need a shower." Another peel of laughter left her, as a mud-sodden hunk of hair fell over his face.

He swiped it back and glared at her.

"Poor little wolfie," she crooned, as he kicked his pants free and stood before her, naked. And aroused. Horribly aroused. He had felt the mating heat returning in the past week, tormenting him with the need to possess her. To taste and touch her.

In the weeks since her surgery, as though her body recognized its need to heal, the heat had only been a slow simmer inside them both. Now it was blazing inside him, and the scent of her heat filled his head.

His lashes lowered, as he flicked a look over the shorts and T-shirt she wore.

"Shower with me." He moved toward her, his body tightening with hunger. He had been like this for days, and it was killing him. If he didn't touch her, take her, he would go insane.

Her tongue swiped over her lips, as she pushed her hair back from her face, sensuality marking her features.

Grace hadn't forgotten for a second what she had almost been taken from. Over the past two months she had made certain Matthias became an integral part of her family, so that, should the worst ever happen, he wouldn't be alone.

He fought her, of course. He knew what she was doing. But when she awoke in that hospital room, saw his pale, haggard features and his agonized whiskey eyes, she had known. Had she died, Matthias wouldn't have been long behind her. His soul was a part of hers. She wondered, even now, if either of them could survive without the other.

God she loved him.

She leaned against his damp, muddy chest, her eyes closing, as she felt the warmth of him surrounding her. She loved him like flowers loved the sunshine. They embraced it, drew in its heat, and basked in its approval. That's what she did with Matthias.

Her hands slid over his powerful forearms, as they enclosed her, his hands gripping the hem of her shirt and drawing it away from her body.

Tossing the material aside, his lips went instantly to the mark throbbing on her shoulder.

"Like the flowers love the sun," he whispered at her ear, echoing her thoughts. "That's how I love you, too, Grace. I can't survive without your warmth. Without your love."

She turned to him, her head tilting back, her lips accepting his, as his tongue swept into her mouth. Honey and spice. That was his taste, and she gloried in it. Her tongue wrapped around his, drew the hormone from the swollen glands beneath it, and she let the fire have her.

Kissing her, touching her, Matthias lifted her into his arms and carried her to the shower. He didn't take his lips from hers as he adjusted the water. He sipped at them, licked at them, shared his taste with her, then lifted her beneath the spray of the dual showerheads.

The glass doors closed behind them, wrapping them in steamy intimacy, as his hands coasted over her body. His lips moved down her neck, to her chest. Just beneath her collarbone, he licked the scars the bullet and subsequent surgery had left. They were still a little tender, but the stroke of his tongue was like the sunlight.

Grace lifted herself against him, her head tipping back, as water ran over her head, soaking her hair, running in rivulets over her face, down her neck, to his lips. Lips that were moving from the scar to her nipples.

He sucked the hard points inside his mouth, drew on them deeply, growled in pleasure as she rubbed her leg along his thigh. The tiny, nearly invisible hairs that grew there, soft as a whisper of silk, caressed her.

Her hands weren't still, and neither were his lips. As he sucked at her nipple, scraped it with his teeth, her head lifted to allow her lips to touch his brow. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders, over the bulge of his arms.

Warmth and pleasure filled her. Wicked, sharp pleasure that clenched her womb and had her breath catching with an overload of sensations.

She had missed this. She had missed his touch, his kiss, the heat of him flowing over her and through her, until she didn't know where he ended and she began. He was her dreams, her adventures. Her sunlight.

"Poor Grace," he whispered against her breast. "I can smell how hot you are, how sweet."

"So fix it," she demanded breathlessly, leaning back against the shower wall, as his tongue swiped between her breasts, followed by a hungry growl.

She loved that growl. A bit of a rumble, a latent vibration of pleasure. She could distinguish between the sounds. Matthias growled a lot. Especially when he reached the saturated, slick folds of her pussy.

"Oh, God." He shuddered beneath her hands. He did that a lot, too. "I could eat you for hours. For days." His tongue licked through the narrow slit, circled her clit, and had her shuddering.

She was supposed to stand when he did this? When his tongue licked and stroked, and sent fingers of electric heat whipping through her?

"I don't think I can hold out that long," she panted, feeling the excess juices that gathered and built between her thighs.

She ached for him. Ached with a need that went beyond the heat that seared their hungers, one that went to her soul. She wanted him inside her again. She wanted that affirmation, that proof that they were alive.

"You don't have to hold out long, Grace," he groaned, his fingers parting the tender flesh as he tongued her clitoris.

Sensation raced from the bundle of nerves, struck her womb, clenched it, and sent her arching, tilting her hips closer, as the need for orgasm began to thunder through her. She was desperate. Didn't he know she was crazy for this now?

"It's been too long," she cried out, as she felt his fingers fill her rather than the thick length of his cock.

It was good. It was wickedly good, the feel of his fingers caressing her inside, parting her pussy and rubbing against sensitive nerve endings. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't what she hungered for.

Even as his fingers slid deep inside her sex, flexed and stroked the tender tissue, she was begging for more. His tongue licked around her clit, tightening it with agonizing need, as the nerve endings pounded with the need for release.

He nuzzled his lips against it, drew it inside his mouth, and suckled her with firm heat and disastrous results. Grace exploded in pleasure, the clitoral orgasm whipping through her, jerking her muscles tighter, and causing her nails to bite into his shoulders, as he rose before her.

The violent contractions of release were still thundering through her body, when he gripped the backs of her thighs and lifted her.

Grace curled her legs around his hips on instinct, forcing her eyes open to watch him in drowsy pleasure, as he tucked the head of his cock against the mouth of her vagina.

"I love you," he groaned raggedly, as he began to press inside her, the silky preseminal fluid filling her, sensitizing her further. "Like the flower loves the sun, the earth loves the rain. You're my life, Grace Anderson Slaughter."

She felt her heart melt for him all over again. That happened at least a dozen times a day, and it was always fresh, always new.

"I love you," she gasped, as he continued to slide inside her, stretching her, parting her, burning her. "You're my soul, Matthias. My sun and my rain." Her back arched, as he seated his erection fully inside her.

Grace felt her muscles flexing, tightening around the width of his cock, and sending brilliant shards of exquisite pleasure racing through her. They raked her nerve endings, embedded her soul, and whipped through every cell of her body.

Words weren't needed now, only gasping cries of pleasure and the hard thrusts and acceptance of the heat burning through them. His cock shuttled inside her hard and deep in luscious strokes. Grace twisted in his grip, taking him, stroking him, tightening on the hard, heavy length of his cock, as she began to tremble in his arms.

She could feel her orgasm coming now. It was tightening in her womb, through her muscles. Her clit was distended, her nipples hard and aching, as they rake against his chest. She was on fire. Burning. Sweating, despite the water rolling over them, and exploding in his arms as she screamed out his name.

His release followed. The thickening in the center of his cock spread across her sensitive pelvic floor muscle, causing it to spasm and contract, to milk tighter at his flesh, as a snarl of pleasure left his lips. The additional swelling didn't affect the entire length of his cock, just that one portion, the section that aligned just above the delicate vaginal muscle, effectively locking him inside her.

The blast of his semen inside her triggered another orgasm, not as fierce or as hard. This one was gentler, easing through her rather than exploding over her nerve endings.

As it ended, Grace found herself still pressed against the shower wall, as Matthias trembled against her. Cool water sprayed over their overheated bodies, washing away the perspiration that would have coated them, but doing little to still the heat that had raged through their bodies.

Her hands stroked his shoulders, her lips pressed against his neck. Grace held him to her, absorbing the hard spasms that gripped his muscles with each spurt of his release.

With each eruption, the hard swelling inside her throbbed, pulsed, and sent tremors of response racing through her. Like mini-orgasms clenching her womb. With each spasm, she tightened on that thick swelling, causing another pulse of his release to blast inside her. Causing him to shudder and groan in her arms.

"This… this is ecstasy," he whispered at her ear. "This, Grace, is home."

She felt tears fill her eyes. Home. Matthias finally had a home, and it was her. She buried her head against his broad shoulder and thanked God for the Breed that had found her.

"That, was worth waiting for," she panted minutes later, as the swelling of his cock receded and he slid out of her, groaning.

"I couldn't handle having to wait like that again," he informed her, his breathing hard and heavy, as he lifted his hand and touched the scar on her chest. "Never again, Grace."

Her hand covered his. "I'll always be a part of you, Matthias. No matter what. Just as you'll always be a part of me."

He shook his head. "I took a job at the hotel. I'm head of security. You're assistant manager, and I have every assurance you'll be promoted to manager before much longer. We're going to live nice, sedate lives from now on. Do you understand me?"

He looked so arrogant. So dominant.

Grace grinned. "I still get to climb trees."

Content

In A Wolf's Embrace
Breeds -13
Lora Leigh

FOREWORD

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN