Lion's Heat Read online

  "No!" Rachel couldn't hold back the instinctive denial. Her body clenched, tightened to the point that the warning grip of Jonas's fingers on her arm was barely felt.

  "And what problem do you have, Brandenmore, that an infant can solve for you?" Jonas queried, his tone so icy cold that Rachel nearly shivered and almost believed that he was actually considering the proposal.

  "Her mother is a Breed mate." He nodded his head in Rachel's direction. "If my preliminary tests are correct, then that would make her child compatible to Breed physiology as well. I'd like to conduct some simple, rather painless tests over the course of her primary years into adulthood. She would be well cared for." He leaned forward, his expression sincere. "She would have a good life and provide an invaluable service as well."

  "And that service would be?"

  She knew Jonas. Knew his moods, his expressions, the progression of ice in his voice, and she knew that in this moment, the animal inside him was as close to breaking free as she had ever sensed it.

  "The Breed mating-age phenomenon." Excitement colored his voice, narrowed his eyes and lent a glow of fanaticism to his expression. "Neither Breeds nor their mates age once mating occurs. We know that now. I want to know why. I could duplicate it, create a serum. All I need is a viable, healthy child whose biology is compatible."

  "And how do you know this child is the one you need?" Jonas asked.

  "I took blood and urine samples while I had her," he gloated. "I had her for hours--enough time to collect what I needed for the proper tests. Rachel and Devon's child is compatible. Devon's parents have advanced millions of dollars to the project, and my friends in the Middle East have provided the perfect lab to work in."

  "You would need a Breed to test her with. How did you achieve that?" Jonas was full of questions.

  Rachel had to fight back her horror, her tears, as she stared at Devon's mutinous expression. He and his parents had sold his child to a monster. For what? For an anti-aging serum that might or might not work?

  She couldn't hide the fact that she was shaking from the inside out now, nor could she hide the complete fury beginning to engulf her.

  "It was fairly easy to achieve." Brandenmore shrugged then. "We have so many Breed blood, urine and semen samples that have been preserved both by myself as well as the Genetics Council. Testing her against them wasn't that difficult."

  "She would have only matched to a specific Breed," Jonas pointed out. "Her mate."

  Did Amber have a mate? How could that be possible? She was only a baby.

  "Mating tests are unreliable until adulthood, Brandenmore," Jonas continued. "We've proven that."

  "A mating test, true." He nodded. "But not a compatibility test, which is what I have created."

  He was so filled with self-importance now, so triumphant as he stared at Jonas, certain he would agree to give Amber up.

  "Jonas, make him stop with this," she whispered, desperate now to erase the horror of what Brandenmore was suggesting.

  Brandenmore shot her a pitying look as Devon glared at her in disgust.

  "Shut the fuck up, Rachel," Devon snapped. "She's my kid too. You can have more brats with your lover here. Let me have Amber."

  "So you can kill her?" she yelled, staring at him, wondering why she hadn't seen the evil that had infected him while they'd lived together.

  "No one's going to kill her. She would be useless dead." Devon laughed in ridicule. "Get a grip. You always overdramatized things to the point of ridiculousness."

  "Enough." Jonas's voice was low, a throbbing sound of power that immediately silenced Devon.

  "He'll kill you for insulting his mate, my boy." Brandenmore laughed. "He might not love her, she might be a shackle about his ankle, but that animal inside him will protect her with his last breath." He looked at Jonas. "That kid is another matter, isn't it, Mr. Wyatt?"

  "So you're suggesting I give you Amber, in exchange for what, exactly?" Jonas asked.

  Brandenmore leaned forward again, that fanatic light still gleaming in his eyes. "Well, number one, in exchange for your lives." He smiled. "Secondly though, I will share my research with your scientists. It's my understanding that mating heat is causing no small amount of discomfort, at least according to the medical assistants you caught helping me not long ago. This is a win-win situation for you, Jonas."

  A win-win situation? Who lost? Definitely she would lose, her child, the most precious treasure in her life. Amber would lose her life, if not in the first weeks of this so-called research, then in the years following.

  Rachel stared at Brandenmore, then at Devon.

  "That's your daughter," she whispered, wondering how she could ever face the questions Amber would eventually have about her father now. "How could you do this, Devon?"

  He finished his drink off quickly before sneering back at her. "I told you to abort the brat, Rachel. You didn't do it. Phillip can at least use her efficiently."

  Rachel flinched. Jonas growled, low and dangerous, as Phillip Brandenmore stared back at Jonas in surprise, as though he recognized the inherent danger in the sound.

  "Mr. Wyatt," Brandenmore said carefully, "you want to consider this. We both know the child means nothing to you, but your mate does. You'll call Sanctuary and have the child flown to a location I'll give you. Once I have her, you'll be released."

  Rachel heard the low hum of laser weapons powering up behind her.

  She was shaking her head. Tears were rolling down her cheeks; she was trembling from the inside out, until that moment.

  "No," she whispered. "I won't let you . . ."

  "But it's not your choice," Brandenmore informed her. "It's your mate's. And tell me, Ms. Broen, what do you think that animal inside him is demanding that he do? He wants rid of that kid because it's not his. She isn't his blood, or his species; therefore, she is a hindrance to his Pride, a threat to his leadership and the future leadership of his rightful children."

  "This isn't the Middle Ages," she exclaimed.

  "Shut the fuck up, you stupid little bitch." Devon's glass flew across the room and shattered on the wall as everyone stared back at him. "You will give him that little brat or I'll have her killed. Take your pick."

  "No, you won't," Jonas growled, the hard, dangerous rumble of his voice filling the silence with a bone-chilling wave of vicious intent.

  "Of course he won't." Brandenmore was definitely aware of the murderous undercurrents filling the room now. "Jonas, Amber won't be harmed. I swear it. You won't lose in this, and your mate can't hate you. The only way to save her is to trade the kid for her. That simple."

  Jonas breathed in slowly, subtly, careful to make certain no one was aware of the scents he was drawing in. There were Breeds outside, more than one. Four of them were from Ghost Team. He'd seen the glow of Jag's green eyes minutes before in the window behind Devon's head.

  There were others. Lawe was out there, Rule, Mercury and, strangely enough, Jonas could smell Leo and Dane Vanderale. Not that Dane had much of a scent to him; it was always carefully disguised. But there was the barest familial scent, which Jonas could never have mistaken.

  He'd waited, restrained the animal clawing at his insides with brutal, bruising strength to be free. He'd held on to his control, fought the rage, until the others were in place.

  The smell of Brandenmore's lies mingled with those of the Breeds. He was a monster. Jonas had no idea what he had planned for Amber, but it wasn't the existence he had described. Amber would know nothing but pain. If reports were correct concerning the rumors of some of the experiments conducted by the man over the years, she would be lucky to live weeks, let alone into adulthood.

  "I'll even pacify your mate as best I can." Brandenmore was smiling, his beady eyes filled with malice cloaked by sincerity.

  The man should have been an actor. He would have won an Oscar.

  "I'll send photos, keep her updated on the kid's progress. Maybe even phone calls for a while." He smiled benevolently toward R
achel.

  Horror was pouring from her. Tears stained her pale cheeks; rage ate at her. She was in control. She had, like Jonas, managed to restrain the need to kill.

  His hand tightened on her wrist, his fingers stroking a pattern of warning across her flesh until he felt her tense, felt the moment she realized the pad of his finger was carefully outlining the letters to a very short message. Be ready.

  She was already ready. He felt it. The way she held herself, the sudden smell of the rage solidifying inside her as he tensed and prepared to move.

  He glanced to the window, saw the vague outline of a dark hand. Five fingers. Four. Three. Two . . . ONE.

  "Down!" He took her to the floor as the window behind the bodyguard Svenson's head shattered and laser fire began to fill the room. It took only a breath to watch blood erupt from the younger man's chest and head, to see his eyes widen and smell the scent of death as it began to fill the room.

  Jerking Rachel to the relative safety beneath a heavy coffee table, he went for Brandenmore. Svenson was laid out on the floor, blood staining his hair as Devon Marshal lay on his stomach, his shoulder covered in blood. Brandenmore crawled across the floor at a far quicker pace than Jonas would have expected from a man his age.

  Springing ahead of the old man, Jonas caught him by his shoulder, his claws ripping into flesh far more resilient than it should have been, into muscle more powerful than he could have guessed.

  But he was still human, and no match for the Breed genetics Jonas possessed.

  Jerking him to his feet, Jonas flung Brandenmore to the wall hard enough to daze him before gripping a handful of hair and jerking him back again, placing the older man in front of him.

  Alpha Team One and Ghost Team had ended the danger to Rachel's life in seconds. Merciless, quick and efficient. The chilly night air swirled through the room, the scent of blood and death mixed with that of wood smoke, terror and pain as he forced the old man to face the night's work.

  "It's over," he yelled, forcing Brandenmore to stare at the results of the sudden Breed attack.

  His bodyguards were dead. Blood spilled from their bodies as they lay on the floor, their gazes empty and staring into nothingness.

  "It's not over."

  Jonas jerked his head to the side to see Devon holding Rachel by her hair, his grip harsh, jerking her head back as the point of a laser pistol lay against her vulnerable head. The younger man looked dazed, furious. The scent of his blood was heavy in the room, as was the smell of his fury and fear.

  Jonas froze. The Breeds rising slowly from the floor stared at the scene as though in emotionless interest, but he could smell their sudden intent, could feel them weighing possibilities and considering options.

  Rachel was the director's mate. Without her, Jonas didn't know if he could function. His men didn't know if he could function. If she died, there would be no rage as great as what he would feel, forever. Until he killed himself or someone did him a favor and killed him.

  "I want that little bastard." Devon pushed her toward the door, his eyes gleaming with hatred as he stared at Jonas. "Let him go. The little bitch is nothing but an embarrassment. There can be no heir to the Marshal fortune, who isn't a Marshal."

  And no one considered Amber a Marshal.

  There were few options.

  "The mother has to live." Brandenmore's voice was soft, so soft. "She will breed a legacy to science."

  His child.

  Jonas's hands tightened in his hair.

  "His gun is empty of power." Almost too quiet, even for his senses to pick up, Brandenmore whispered the words. "I'd never give him a weapon that worked."

  Devon was digging the barrel into Rachel's head. The tiny light at the side of the weapon was red. It wasn't powered. Or was it a trick?

  "I'll kill you if she dies. So very slowly," he warned the old man. The old man in a much younger man's body.

  "Let me out of here," Devon ordered harshly as he jerked Rachel toward the door. "I'll fucking kill her."

  Jonas turned his head and gave the Breed still standing in the shadows outside a slow nod. Ghost Team had remained hidden while Alpha Team One had rushed into the room.

  Jag had a bead on the back of the bastard's head. He would take him out. It would be messy. Rachel would never forgive them for the mess.

  Silence filled the night until a hollow pop vibrated through the room and a gush of blood and brain matter exploded from the side of Devon Marshal's head.

  Rachel jerked as he fell. She was gripping his hand, trying to jerk his fingers from her hair as she kicked at him, screamed at him.

  Tears ran down her face; rage tore through her voice.

  "You bastard!" she screamed, managing to loosen her hair as Jonas caught her.

  Her foot kicked out, landed in the dead man's gut. "You fucking monster. You bastard. She's a baby. She's a baby."

  Jonas jerked her to his chest, his hand covering her head, his eyes burning as he stared at Brandenmore, now held easily by Lawe, his hands being restrained.

  Jonas turned to the older man and let a slow, cold smile curl his lips. Brandenmore was his now. Amazing how things were beginning to work out. The greatest minds among the Genetics Council were now becoming Jonas's possessions: first Amburg, now Brandenmore.

  "Take him to the labs," he ordered the Breed. "He needs to be tested himself."

  Brandenmore's eyes widened in horror. "I helped you. But I helped you," he protested as though shocked.

  "You helped yourself to your own demise," Jonas swore. "You've just disappeared, Brandenmore. Another casualty to this silent little war you and your friends have begun. And now, you're mine," he promised with a deadly growl. "You fucked up. That's my daughter. Adopted from love, not from duty. Claimed as a daughter, not as a brat. And you'll pay for even daring to consider harming a hair on her head."

  He wanted to rip the son of a bitch apart. The last thing he wanted to do was use him to better the Breed community, but he had no choice. Only Brandenmore could explain whatever changes occurred in Amber.

  He nodded to Lawe to drag the man out as he turned slowly to the room, his arms still holding his mate close as she sobbed against his chest. Tears of anger, not of fear, or even of relief. They were tears of anger, pain and horror.

  "Clean up," he ordered as Leo and Dane stepped from another room, dragging a bodyguard, barely alive.

  Then Jonas felt his eyes widen in surprise and utter disgust. Son of a bitch, he couldn't keep them out of his hair for anything anymore.

  Leo was tall, proud, exhilarated. His golden eyes glowed with excitement as he held a laser weapon in one hand, and gripped the hair of one of Brandenmore's best bodyguards as he dragged him along in the other hand.

  "Mother will know you were here," Dane warned him in amusement. "She'll kick your ass and pout on me for months."

  "Wrong, she kicks your ass and pouts on me," Leo argued.

  "I'm going to have her kick both your asses." Jonas snapped, finally at the end of his rope where the two were concerned. In the past months they were like leeches. He couldn't seem to shake them off his fucking back no matter how hard he tried.

  Then, they turned to Jonas as though coming up with the same answer at once.

  "It was all his fault," they said in unison as they nodded at Jonas. He had a very bad feeling he knew exactly what they were agreeing to.

  "Excellent." Leo grinned and slapped Dane on the back. "It's good to have another son to blame shit on. The rest of you are getting damned irritable over it."

  He dragged the guard through the room, slapped Jonas on the shoulder and continued into the night as Jonas stared at him in outrage. Suddenly, the cold, hard Leo was gone, and what Jonas smelled rolling from the other man couldn't be true. Acceptance? Why? Why now, and what the hell was the Leo up to this time?

  He turned to Dane, though he really didn't expect answers at this point.

  Dane sighed heavily. "Your mate," he nodded to Rachel, "evidently ch
ewed his ass and gave him a new lease on life.

  What is it about you mated bastards that get off on that?"

  As though that was an explanation? At least at this point, it made a bit of sense. Rachel was rather good at making man or Breed feel about two inches tall whenever they deserved it.

  Jonas blew out a hard breath. "They care," he finally said as Rachel sniffed, her tears easing, her rage lessening. "It means they care, Dane. Only a Breed raised in the labs could understand the power of that ass chewing."

  Rachel would do it often.

  She would love him often.

  She would rage at him often.

  She lifted her head, her eyes still wet, her lips trembling.

  "I love you," she whispered. "So much."

  His head lowered and, amid blood and death, touched hers as light as a feather and whispered, "I live for you."

  Dane watched for only a second before turning away. A grimace tightened his features and something ached in his chest. And he wondered if he would ever experience for himself the power of that ass chewing?

  EPILOGUE

  It was snowing.

  Hours after their return to Sanctuary, Jonas stared out at the snowy landscape through the barred windows of the interrogation center, which sat above an entrance to the underground labs. There were three inches of snow on the ground, and two feet predicted to head their way. Big, wet, fluffy flakes that piled on the ground, the trees, the roofs of the cabins, had turned Sanctuary into a snow-covered wonderland.

  How had he never noticed the beauty, the pristine innocence in a snowfall before?

  He had never taken the time to see the wonderland, the almost fairy-tale promise that nature lay upon the ground each time it snowed, just as he had never truly realized the beauty in a child's laugher, a mate's smile, or the word "family." He'd never realized what he was fighting for until he had faced losing it that first night Brandenmore had struck against Rachel.

  "You don't want to keep me here, Wyatt." Brandenmore's voice was hoarse, choked with terror, as he spoke from his position across the room.

  Elizabeth Vanderale, Ely and Amburg, all masked, their identities hidden, had extracted the vials of blood samples needed. Swabs had been taken of the inside of his mouth, as well as from other areas of his body. Urine samples had been forced from him, and an array of tests were taken as he screamed and fought each procedure.

  The Leo and Dane stood in a shadowed corner, black masks covering their faces as the scientists completed their work. The air was heavy with Breed rage and human fear.

  When the scientists left the room, Jonas turned to him slowly and nodded to Jag, who was masked as well.

  Electrodes were connected to Brandenmore's head, above his heart and along the pulsing veins at his temples. The electrical impulses that would surge through them weren't lost on the other man.

  "Jonas, please," he screamed. "This is wrong. You have to arrest me. I want to see my lawyer."

  "There are no lawyers here," Jonas promised him, his voice steady, cold. "This is Sanctuary, Brandenmore. Here, my word is law. Here, I decide if you live or if you die."

  "You can't," the older man cried desperately. "That's not right, Jonas. You're already against me. She's your mate, your child. You can't make this decision."

  "You have been tried and deemed guilty of crimes against Breeds so heinous, so lacking in mercy, Phillip Brandenmore, that only death can come close to atoning for your crimes. It is by word, by Breed Law, that you're sentenced to death."

  "No." Brandenmore wheezed, his eyes bulging with the knowledge that there would be no mercy to be found, no loop-hole, no way to escape the pain coming.

  "Yes." Jonas crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the Breed behind Brandenmore. "Do you have any last words?" He lifted his hand as though to give the order to electrocute the bastard.

  "If you kill me, you'll never know what I did to your daughter."

  It was a good thing Brandenmore wasn't a Breed, since otherwise he would have scented the pure triumph that spilled from the Breeds in the room.

  "Nothing is wrong with my daughter," Jonas assured him. "She's been tested completely. Games are over. It's time to die."

  "Delayed reaction." Brandenmore's voice was hoarse, desperate. "I know what I'm doing. I knew you'd run every test in the world on her; I hid it. The only way to know how to save her later is if I tell you. If I live."

  "You're lying . . ."

  "You can smell a lie." Tears poured from Brandenmore's eyes. "You know I'm not lying, Jonas. You know I'm not. And I promise you, without me, she will die. I've ensured it. I made certain I had that ace against you."

  He wasn't lying.

  "What guarantee do I have you'll tell me anything?" Jonas sneered. "You'll play games, just as you always do."

  "I'll be here. Keep me. Just let me live," he cried out.

  "Live long enough to see if you're getting younger? Live long enough to see if your aging serum works?" His body was younger than it should be, and Jonas knew his face wasn't nearly as lined as he last remembered it.

  "Everything," Brandenmore swore. "I'll tell you everything."

  "Yes, you will," Jonas crooned. "Or you'll suffer. Far worse than you would have suffered tonight. Far worse than any Breed ever suffered under you, Brandenmore. I promise you that. You'll cooperate fully, or suffering won't come close to the hell you'll glimpse."

  Nodding to Lawe and Rule, Jonas turned and left the room, followed by Leo and Dane. Walking up the short hall to the observation room where Callan and the other members of the Pride family, along with Ely and Elizabeth, waited. Rachel was with Amber at the cabin, the one place Jonas wanted to be more than anyplace on earth.

  "Son of a bitch,