Lion's Heat Read online

  fresh blood, saliva and urine samples," Amburg stated. "You'll want to ensure that the child stays here at Sanctuary for a while, and under close observation."

  "What was in the syringe?"

  Jonas would kill Brandenmore for this night, he swore it. He would never have the chance to harm another child.

  "I don't know, Wyatt." Amburg shook his head as he breathed out wearily. "Initial tests are showing sedative qualities, but I know Brandenmore. He's a fucking genius when it comes to developing new drugs, and whatever he's been working on where the Breeds are concerned has been going on for a while. You can't trust him, you can't trust that it was no more than a sedative. That would be foolish."

  "What was he working on?" Jonas had asked Amburg the same question for months.

  "I wasn't told what he was working on." It was the same answer he had always given. No matter how Jonas tortured him, no matter the threats he made, Amburg always gave the same answer. And Jonas had smelled the lie on him each time.

  Jonas stared into the lab; the two-way glass gave him the opportunity to watch Rachel where she was unaware of his presence.

  "Then she's safe? There's nothing to worry about?" Jonas asked.

  "I didn't say that." Amburg turned to him, his gaze heavy but clearly shielding his concern. It didn't matter, because Jonas could sense each emotion on him.

  "Then what are you saying?" Jonas leaned back against the door, crossed his arms over his chest and watched the scientist narrowly.

  Amburg's gaze flickered. "Just what I said. Where Brandenmore's concerned, you should worry, and worry a lot. For the moment, it appears the child is fine. There was nothing more than a sedative in the syringe. I just want to be certain."

  And that was the truth. Jonas could accept it, though he knew there were still things he wasn't being told. He could wait. For a short while.

  "Return to your lab if that's all you have." Jonas moved back from the door. "Let me know if you learn anything further."

  Amburg nodded shortly before moving for the door.

  "Jeffrey." Jonas stopped him as he reached for the doorknob. "Betray me, and you know what I'll do."

  Amburg swallowed tightly, his gaze flickering in fear. "She has nothing to do with any of this, Jonas. She's innocent."

  "So were the Breeds, once," Jonas countered. "Did that help us?"

  It hadn't.

  Amburg lowered his head before pulling the door open and leaving the room. He would find the answers Jonas needed, assured that if he didn't, his granddaughter would pay the price.

  Jonas looked into the lab once again. Amber lay still and silent, her mother beside her, pacing, uncertain. Frightened.

  Her fear dug sharpened claws of emotion into his soul, and left him questioning himself and decisions he had once felt were set in stone. It had him questioning the danger he had allowed into his life, and the danger he knew would now, always, be a part of it.

  Rachel and Amber had become his life, and now he wondered how the hell he was ever going to protect them.

  CHAPTER 3

  Jonas forced himself to leave the small room more than an hour later. Amber was waking, groggy and hungry. Blood tests were showing no abnormalities or anomalies. She appeared to be as healthy as she had been before her ordeal with Brandenmore.

  Jonas knew he wouldn't know more until he could slip into the room himself and hold her. The ability to connect with her through her mother had disappeared after her birth. Now he found that only when he held her did he sense any problems she might have.

  Moving through the steel-lined corridors of the medical bunker, Jonas stepped into the meeting room where Kane, Callan, Lawe and Rule awaited him.

  "You're already getting weird on us." Lawe flicked him a disgruntled look as Callan and Kane watched silently. "I swear, this mating shit has to be contagious."

  There was an edge of bachelor fear in Lawe's voice, as well as in his brother Rule's expression.

  Not that Jonas could blame either man. Mating was damned scary when a man had no idea how to proceed. Heeding the animal's demand that he take her now, that he mark her immediately, wasn't going to work. He'd be damned if he wanted his woman to come to him because hormones forced her to do so. He wanted her to want him because he was a man willing to love her, to care for her and to ensure that her child was protected.

  "What have you found out?" He ignored Lawe's previous comment as he turned to Callan.

  "Mordecai is trailing Brandenmore." Callan leaned forward, laying his arms on the polished surface of the meeting table. "He had a heli-jet waiting several blocks from Ms. Broen's house. He flew immediately to Iran."

  "He has a research facility there." Jonas nodded.

  "And neither America nor the Breeds has an extradition treaty with them," Kane stated. "Our hands are tied unless Mordecai and his men can catch him outside the facility and manage to grab him without being seen."

  If anyone could do it, Mordecai could.

  "Dog was spotted in Iran just hours after Brandenmore landed," Rule reported. "He and his team were about a mile from the research facility and there's a rumor Brandenmore called them in."

  Brandenmore had made a major mistake if he had thought to hire the mercenary Coyote unit Dog commanded. Dog might play the bad-assed mercenary, but Jonas and Dog knew whom he owed his loyalty to.

  "I want Brandenmore." He turned to Callan. "This is Breed Law, Callan. It's no longer public. It's no longer a matter of bringing him to the humans' idea of justice. He's mine."

  And he would suffer.

  "Justice was your idea, Jonas," Callan reminded him as he sat back in his chair, his golden gaze somber. "You were right. The Breeds will gain more power, more approval, if Brandenmore is brought to justice publicly."

  "He'll never be prosecuted." Jonas shook his head; that had been proven in the past year. "I once thought the political backing the Breeds had found would make us stronger. I agreed with that. But all they're doing is patting us on the fucking back and kissing the asses of men like Brandenmore. I'm not willing to see another Breed die by his hand."

  "We knew it wouldn't be easy, Jonas." Kane Tyler leaned forward, his icy blue eyes concerned now. "We have the backing in the Senate, no matter how it appears. We have to have the proof. They can't move without it. And getting proof, when Brandenmore keeps acquiring Breed spies within Sanctuary, isn't going to be easy."

  Breed spies. Select Breeds were turning against their own, destroying the tribe's home of freedom by selling information to their former jailors.

  "Jonas, we could have an edge here. Let's use it." Lawe stepped forward, planted his hands on the top of the table and stared back at Jonas intently.

  "And that edge is?" He had a very bad feeling he knew exactly what it was.

  "Rachel and her child," Lawe stated quietly. "Brandenmore was taking that baby with him; that means he had plans for her. And Rachel can identify him and testify to his actions tonight. She has a solid reputation, just as her parents had before their deaths. She's proof that Brandenmore attempted to steal sensitive Breed information. She's your ace in the hole."

  He was right, and Jonas knew exactly what Lawe considered an ace in the hole.

  "You've learned too well, Lawe," he growled. "You expect me to use my mate."

  "As you used Lance Jacobs to save your sister. Just as you've used every weapon, every asset you could find or steal in this battle we're fighting," Lawe agreed. "But Rachel has something no one else has: She has you, Jonas. The best strategist ever created to ensure her safety."

  Jonas grunted at that. "Compliments will only piss me off, Lawe. Now I know how my Enforcers felt each time I used their mating heat to my own ends."

  Not that he hadn't always sensed how they felt. Not that he hadn't regretted the choices he'd had to make, even before he'd put them in effect.

  Breathing in deeply, he ran his hand over his hair, always aware, always sensing the tattoo hidden beneath his hair: F2.07.

&n
bsp; He was the only Breed to ever carry an F rating in his lab designation. Most Breeds were A, for Alpha designation. His was F, for the very fact that he had been created to breed. To father hybrid Breeds. It was a designation that had never worked for the scientists who had created him. His sperm had never been viable with the Breed females they had paired him with.

  It was only in recent years that Ely had managed to figure out why his designation had been a failure. It wasn't a Breed female that would be compatible with the Breed sperm. Nature had twisted the genetics the scientists had used. His Breed sperm--the genetics programmed into it, the Breeds it would create--needed a human female to be viable.

  And now he had the perfect female to create the hybrid Breed the scientists were so certain would be the most dangerous Breed ever created.

  Turning away from the other men, he exhaled tiredly, finally feeling the bone-deep bruises he'd acquired in the explosion.

  "He'll come after her," Jonas stated, knowing Brandenmore would put everything he had into killing Rachel now.

  "The spies he still has here, in Sanctuary, will be activated," Lawe agreed. "He can't have many left. We watch, and we wait. Pretend we're unaware that we know he still has those ties here. We catch them, then we ensure their cooperation in providing proof against him."

  They could do that. The Breeds weak enough to fall in with Brandenmore were easily intimidated. They could never be trusted again, but they could be used.

  "Assemble Ghost Team." He turned back to the group as he gave Lawe the order. "You'll be in command. I want Rachel and the child completely covered. They are the team's main concern. No matter what, Lawe--especially if I can't control the mating heat. Nothing else matters."

  He hadn't assembled Ghost Team since the first months out of the labs during the worst of the protests against the Breeds. Separately, the Breeds in Ghost Team were highly effective and lethal. Together, they were a nightmare against the enemy.

  "The Prime family are primary concern, Jonas," Kane reminded him as Jonas's gaze met Callan's.

  Callan knew the truth, and he understood the order.

  "No, Kane," Callan murmured. "Not in this case. If Jonas doesn't control mating heat, and I fully suspect he won't, if Ms. Broen conceives, then nothing else matters but that child."

  Because that child could destroy them all.

  "Rachel, I believe Amburg was right. Your baby has only been sedated." Elizabeth Vanderale sat on a stool on the other side of the incubator as Rachel held Amber and gave her the bottled formula that had been provided for her.

  Amber's gaze was still drowsy, but she wasn't pale any longer, or lifeless. She stared up at Rachel with those bright blue eyes as she gripped the bottle with tiny fists and sucked hungrily.

  "He escaped." She stared down at Amber, somehow sensing her daughter would never be safe until Phillip Brandenmore was dead.

  "He'll be found." Elizabeth didn't seem concerned. "Trust me, Jonas won't allow him to remain free for long."

  No, there was a hungry volcano waiting for Brandenmore, she thought. She had seen the obscurely worded reports on other missing Breed enemies, just as she knew the private flight plans Jonas had logged with the Breed Council just after their disappearances. Those flights had gone right by a very active, stone-melting pit of pure lava that had once welcomed human sacrifices with a greedy embrace.

  "Brandenmore believes Jonas has information on the Breeds that involves an aging phenomena." She lifted her gaze back to Elizabeth. "Mating heat changes the aging process, doesn't it?"

  Elizabeth's lips firmed.

  "You're Callan Lyons's mother," Rachel stated. She knew the other woman was also the wife to the man they called the first Leo. The first Lion Breed ever created.

  "Elizabeth can't answer your questions, Rachel, but I can." Rachel whirled around to find Jonas entering the room.

  Rachel felt her heart leap, as it always did during that first moment when he entered a room. It was all she could do to maintain her composure, to be certain her body fell in line with the emotions she wanted to project rather than what she felt.

  He wore the same clothes he had worn when he went after Amber. Black. Black mission pants, a long-sleeved shirt that was torn and bloody, and combat boots, which laced over his calves. The string of one boot was fraying. The left knee of the mission pants was torn, exposing reddened and bloodied flesh.

  "Jonas, have you been checked for your injuries yet?" Elizabeth moved to the tray of digital and sterilized instruments next to the incubator.

  "Ely takes care of me, Dr. Vanderale," he answered coolly. "If I need it."

  "And of course, you don't need it," Elizabeth murmured. "How like the Leo you can be."

  "And I'm certain the Leo is just as tired of hearing that as I am," he responded mockingly. "As the whelp he barely claims, I can tell you, it gets old."

  Rachel heard the thinnest vein of some underlying emotion in those words. Resentment? Hurt? She couldn't imagine the steel-edged Jonas hurting over anything. But she had learned over the past months that there was a lot Jonas hid from the world and the people around him.

  Elizabeth chuckled. "Why do you believe he calls you a 'whelp,' young man? Could it be because you're so like him that he's not certain whether to feel pride or to shoot you and put the world out of its misery?"

  "I think he's just as happy over the fact that his DNA was used against him as I am." Jonas shrugged and turned back to Rachel. "We have a cabin ready for you. I'm sure you'd like to eat and get some rest now that Elizabeth has finished her examination of you."

  Merinus had warned her when she first agreed to work for Jonas about the Breeds' incredible sense of smell and intuition. She had warned Rachel that the least weakness would be perceived by Jonas as a weapon, nothing more. That he would use it against her, would poke and dig until he managed to find a way to get her out of the office.

  "I'd like to finish feeding Amber first," she stated with a calm composure she didn't feel. "I rather doubt Phillip Brandenmore had the consideration to do so."

  The small rumble of danger that sounded in his throat would have been worrying if Amber hadn't chosen that moment to emit a small, distressed whimper.

  "Calm yourself, Jonas." Elizabeth moved across the room to one of the myriad machines that lined a counter. "I've warned you that children sense emotions much better than adults do. You'll upset the child."

  Rachel was surprised to see the grimace that tightened Jonas's face, but within seconds Amber calmed down once more and proceeded to finish her bottle.

  He did that a lot, she realized: backed off when at other times she was certain he would have pushed for dominance in a given situation.

  Setting the bottle aside, she lifted the baby against her chest. Patting the baby's back, she smiled softly when a loud, definitely unladylike burp came from the perfect, cupid's bow lips.

  "We can leave now." Pulling a small blanket from the table by the incubator, Rachel wrapped her daughter snugly, then turned to Jonas.

  He was staring at Elizabeth, his expression tight, almost angry. Glancing back at the other woman, Rachel saw the same expression mirrored on Elizabeth's face.

  These two were so much alike that it astounded Rachel that they weren't related.

  "Let's go then." Stepping back, Jonas allowed her to pass before turning in behind her and following her to the door.

  "Jonas. Rachel."

  They stopped, glancing back.

  "I'll need the two of you in for tests in the morning," she informed them. "Please be here before breakfast. It's rather important that it be done before you eat."

  "That what be done?" Rachel asked.

  "Mating tests," Jonas informed her, his voice cold. "Never let it be said that mating a Breed is easy."

  Rachel glared back at him. "Never let it be said that I agreed to any of this. Forget the tests, Jonas. I haven't decided I'm your mate. Therefore, no tests are needed."

  She pushed through the lab door
s, determined not to show a weakness either in expression or emotion. For all Jonas knew, her heart wasn't racing in excitement, and her thighs weren't ready to clench in arousal.

  She was immune. At least, that was the image she presented. The truth was a far different matter.

  She watched as his expression seemed to change. It became emotionless, almost lifeless. Bronze, savage features tightened until they seemed carved from stone as his eyes boiled like heated mercury.

  "Rachel, simply because you refuse to accept it doesn't make it so," Elizabeth ventured cautiously as she stepped closer, her hands sliding into the wide pockets of her lab coat as her dark blue eyes softened in understanding. "Mating heat is not a choice, my dear."

  "I beg to differ." Rachel shifted Amber in her arms, her fingers rubbing against the baby's back in a comforting motion, despite the fact that Amber was sleeping peacefully. "I'm not an animal, Dr. Vanderale. Neither is Jonas, despite his attempts to convince me differently over the past months. I'm not ruled by my hormones, nor am I ruled by Breed hormones. Rest assured, should I decide to accept whatever anomaly dictates your mating heat, then I will submit myself to your tests." She stared back at Jonas. "Are you ready, or do I need to see about finding a hotel for the night?"

  It was his luck. Jonas entered his cabin, stood aside and watched as Rachel walked in, knowing that every curse, every ill thought his Enforcers had had concerning his turn at mating were most likely coming true.

  The sight he'd seen in the medical facility had made his cock harder than it had ever been. She'd lifted her head with an arrogance that still amazed him, looked down that little button nose of hers and informed Elizabeth Vanderale that she was not mated because she hadn't accepted it.

  It would have been amusing had she been another Breed's mate. Unfortunately, she was his, and though he'd had no intentions of fulfilling the mating promise, in that second, nothing else had mattered to him but mating her.

  It was the Breed genetics, he told himself as she toed her shoes off and moved into the large living room and looked around. It was the challenge--the steely eyed certainty that she could deny him--and the fact that she was attempting to deny what he knew couldn't be denied.

  It was the fact that she belonged to him. She was his. And she had dared to stand in front of the one woman he would never show weakness to and state that she was not his mate until she decided it was so.

  It was enough to make a Breed consider relieving the ache of the mating hormone torturing his tongue, in a kiss that would burn them both straight to the tips of their toes.

  "This is your cabin." There was an edge of accusation in the statement as she turned to him.

  She had attempted to restore order to her hair, but still, it fell from the clip at the top of her head, long red strands cascading to the middle of her back as she flashed ire-filled neon green eyes at him.

  Her face was scratched; her stockings were ripped and barely covered her flesh. The dark gray skirt she had worn the day before was torn along one seam, flashing a pretty section of thigh. The matching blazer was stained with oil, the cuffs frayed in several places. Her once-pristine white shirt was now gray with soot and dirt. And nothing in the world had ever looked so damned pretty to him.

  "So it is." He shrugged as though it didn't matter while removing his boots and setting them alongside Rachel's black low-heeled shoes.

  Padding along the hardwood floor, Jonas walked to the other side of the room and opened the door to the bedroom he'd added on once he'd realized she was his mate.

  It was meant to be Amber's bedroom. The large, airy room was connected to a full bath, which separated the master suite from the child's room.

  It would now be Rachel's room, he thought with a sigh as he turned on the lights.

  The queen-sized bed had been installed as he'd ordered just after arriving to Sanctuary. A crib bed sat along one wall, a mobile of lions, tigers and fairies attached to the headboard while a soft baby-sized comforter covered the fairy sheets.

  This would have been Cassie Sinclair's work, he thought with a spurt of amusement. The girl was a fairy herself, he often thought, as he stepped inside and allowed Rachel to enter the room.

  The large bed was a romantic creation. The sleigh design of the bed frame was tall and heavy. Thick pillows were piled along the headboard, while a heavy blue-and-white quilt covered the mattress. His lips quirked at the sight of the small bed stool at the side of the bed, which made it easier for one of shorter stature to get into the bed easily.

  "Surely there is another empty cabin." Her tone was weary, resigned.

  "Sorry, sweetheart, this is it." Jonas crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down at her. "And you'll be safer here than you would be anywhere else. As will the baby."

  She flashed him a hard stare. "Safer? With Brandenmore in custody . . ."

  "Brandenmore escaped." Imparting that information wasn't easy for him. "He managed to make it to a heli-jet awaiting him several blocks from your home. He arrived in Iran several hours ago."

  "Iran." Her eyes closed for a brief second and she turned from him. "One of the few places where Breeds can't touch him."

  "Unfortunately, yes," he agreed. "The Genetics Council made an agreement with several countries such as Iran at the onset of the Breed rescues. That, combined with their radical views where the Breeds are concerned, have left little negotiating room with such countries."

  Rachel moved across the room to the crib, where she turned on the small table lamp next to the child's bed. Then she glanced at Jonas.

  He turned off the brighter overhead light and watched as she tucked Amber in.

  Next to the crib was a line of bottles; beneath the stand that held the light were stacks of baby diapers. The shelf above the diapers held wipes and lotions, medicated diaper rash salve as well as a small case of baby first aid paraphernalia. Anything a mother could need to take care of her child.

  The dresser at the bottom of the crib held clothes: sack gowns, pajamas and tiny outfits as well as socks, little head-bands and assorted baby girl accessories. Jonas had been specific when he'd ordered the room prepared. The exclusive baby store in Buffalo Gap had opened its doors at three in the morning to ensure that the child was provided with everything she would need.

  Moving efficiently, Rachel stripped the child, cleaned her with several wipes, then diapered and d