Lion's Heat by Lora Leigh
" Callan cursed as the door closed behind them. "What did he do to that baby?"
Jonas rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, the ache there intensifying as he fought against himself. He wanted to go to Brandenmore and rip his heart from his chest.
"Ely, place him on the truth serum you've been working on," Jonas ordered her.
The serum was designed for human as well as Breed biology. It took weeks, sometimes months, to fully integrate into the system and let it begin working. It would work though, and the truth would come from Brandenmore's lips whether he wanted to tell it or not.
"It may need to be refined," Elizabeth stated. "If what we suspect is true, and he's found a serum to reduce aging, then it could change how the serum works with his particular biology."
"It looks like we'll be staying awhile longer then." Leo gave a short nod, his golden gaze locked on Jonas, a message in them that Jonas wasn't certain of.
"I'm beginning to wonder if we'll ever make it back to Africa," Dane stated. "It's a damned good thing I enjoy America."
Jonas rubbed at his neck again. He needed to be with his mate, with their child.
"We'll begin questioning him once the serum has time to initially react," Jonas told them, concern weighing heavily on him now. "I'm heading home now."
Home. He had a home now. It wasn't simply a cabin or a house. It was a place where warmth lived, thrived. A place where peace could be found.
"Jonas, a moment of your time, please." Leo stepped in front of him as he headed for the door. "In private."
"Leo, I don't want to deal with you tonight," Jonas stated wearily. "Let's try later."
"Let's try now." The door opened as Leo gave him a stony look and stepped from the interrogation room.
The room next to interrogation was a file room. Lined with heavy steel filing cabinets, it was cold and silent as the light flipped on and Jonas stepped inside to face the first of their kind. The first Feline Breed to live past the age of five. He had made a way for them all. His genetics had provided a base for every Breed living.
He was the Breeds' Adam, Elizabeth their Eve.
"What do you want, Leo?" Crossing his arms over his chest, Jonas watched the other Breed with weary curiosity.
Leo's chest swelled as he breathed in deeply, his gaze heavy with something--sorrow? What?
"It was years before I knew of the French labs," he finally began.
"I don't want to hear this." Jonas turned to leave.
The hard, furious snarl behind him had him pausing, the animal inside blinking warily as Jonas grimaced and turned slowly.
The animal genetics were too fucking ingrained. Leo wasn't his Pride leader, but he may as well have been. He was the first; he was the strongest. He was his father.
"You'll hear it whether you want to or not," Leo informed him. "By the time I learned of you, you were full grown. Your genetics proclaimed you the child of Madame Scientist LaRue and her consort, with a few of my genetics tossed in. I had other matters more pressing. My son was in danger, my mate was ill, and the Council had hunters in the Congo searching for all of us. I concentrated on rescuing the Breeds I could reach rather than branching out any farther than I had to."
"Unless a child created from both you and Elizabeth was found," Jonas bit out, his voice cold. "You went out of your way, then, didn't you, Leo?"
Leo's head lifted. "I did. Those Breeds are the most dangerous, besides being my children. My God, they were our children." He breathed out roughly. "Once I learned your true genetics, it was too late. The rescues had already begun. You were already free and Harmony was safe. When we received your message that Harmony was in danger, I sent Dane for her immediately. Almost too late, but we got to her."
Jonas tilted his head. "You received the message?" He had been unaware of that.
Leo gave him a hard smile. "Even Dane doesn't know I got the message you managed to send to Africa. I arranged it so he would be there for her, that he would bring her to me. She wasn't my child, but she was a Breed, one far too young for what she faced, and one I had hoped would be Dane's mate."
When Jonas had sent that message so long ago, he had also sent the encrypted, coded file on Harmony that only the Leo could have understood. It had been a test, as well as an attempt to save his sister.
"You never told her you were trying to get her out of there, did you, Jonas?" Leo questioned him.
"I never told her." He shrugged. "It never mattered. She escaped, and she survived."
"She would have died if not for Dane and Rye," Leo stated as Jonas tried to distance himself from the past and the regrets that lay there.
Jonas nodded. "He saved her. I've thanked him."
"And you found her mate for her, and took her from him," Leo said. "There were several times Dane nearly stole her back."
Jonas shook his head. "She wouldn't have stayed."
"No." Leo sighed. "And now, I must find a way other than the one I've used to find the son I fear I lost in the years I remained hidden rather than revealing myself to him. He would never accept the proof that I was watching over him with pride. Nor would he accept the explanation that I'm often simply too arrogant for my own good, and that my sons come by their stubbornness and manipulating ways honestly."
"I never denied that." Jonas stared back at him. "Look, are you seeking forgiveness? Fine, I forgive you."
Leo's gaze was heavy. "Forgiveness? No, Jonas, I'm searching for my son. Emotion comes easy with my mate, with the children I raised, but I've found it's harder with the sons that are grown, who have not been influenced by me or made to understand my ways. I'm searching for the son that is more like me than even those that my mate bore me. One so like me, that even at the best of times, I wonder when he'll challenge me."
"Never," Jonas answered easily as he read Leo's surprise. "I have no desire to challenge you, Leo. Not you, nor Callan, nor Dane, unless you threaten what's mine. Then, I won't challenge you; I'll kill you."
"You could easily claim Sanctuary or my own base," Leo stated suspiciously. "You're strong enough, manipulative enough."
"There's no challenge to it." Jonas faced his father, knowing it was the truth. Knowing that being Pride leader was a far easier job than controlling the Bureau, the humans that were a part of it, as well as the Breeds that served as Enforcers.
"You're joking." Leo grunted. "There is nothing more challenging than assuming leadership of hundreds of Breeds."
Jonas shook his head. "Each to their own, Leo."
Leo shook his head. "And Elizabeth? She's your mother. She weeps for you."
Jonas's eyes widened in surprise now. "She knows?"
Leo watched him curiously. "She's your mother. She's always claimed you. Even when I believed you weren't our child, Elizabeth knew. She knew, and cried for you, just as she left my bed for months when it was proven. She hasn't yet forgiven me, Jonas, no more than I suspect you will ever forgive me."
Hell, he simply didn't have time for this.
He jerked the door open, ignored Leo's suddenly furious growl and stomped back to the observation room. As he pushed through the door, Leo on his heels, he faced Elizabeth as she turned from something Ely was saying.
He gripped her shoulders, bent and kissed her forehead gently. "I'm heading home, Mother. Please get Father off my back and out of my life for a day or so if you don't mind. I do have family matters to take care of now."
Ignoring her surprise, he turned and stalked past Leo, back to the hall, and out of the small building that served as Sanctuary's pre-detaining building.
Calling Leo "father" didn't sit well, but he was a Breed, created, not born, trained rather than raised. He wasn't Jonas. After tonight, he would never call Leo "father" again perhaps, but he wouldn't deny him any longer.
Mordecai was waiting with the Raider and made the trip home quickly. Jonas needed his mate and his child. He needed to tell his mate the battle they may face, as well as the one their child might face. And he n
She was waiting on him when he walked in the door. Snow swirled inside before he closed the door, locked it, then strode to his mate.
"Where is Amber?" His fingers went to the belt of her robe.
"Asleep." Her breath instantly became harder, her voice breathy and low as he stripped the material from her shoulders.
"I need you." His lips moved to hers. "I love you."
"I love you." Her lips parted for him, his tongue slipped past them, the glands beneath aching, needing the touch of her tongue.
She was there for him. The hormone spilled into her and was taken eagerly as he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.
Stripping them both of the clothes separating them took little time. Her gown tore as he jerked at the small buttons at her waist. It pooled at her feet as he worked his pants loose and toed his shoes from his feet. Shedding the pants and shirt, he pulled her to the bed, his lips slanting over hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, retreating, filling it again as he moved between her thighs, desperate to have her.
As the touch of her, the taste of her, filled his senses, the ache at the back of his neck began to recede and the heaviness that had filled his soul began to ease.
As he gripped his cock and pressed it against the soft heat of her pussy, he felt renewed. As he began working inside her, he felt the hunger to simply live begin to ease. She was his life, his heart, his soul.
Lifting his head, he stared into her eyes as he took her. Inch by inch, slowly working his erection inside the tight grip of her pussy as he felt her filling his soul.
Never had pleasure been so great. Never had anything in his life brought him peace until this woman--until he looked into her eyes and sensed the woman created for him.
"My heart," he growled as he slid in to the hilt, felt her heated muscles rippling around his cock as her arms tightened around his shoulders and a gasp of pleasure whispered around him. She was burning in his arms now, and nothing mattered but throwing himself into the flames with her.
Gripping her hip with one hand, he began to move inside her. Deep and hard, he fucked her with a desperate, blinding hunger, a need to hold himself inside her forever, to fly with her, to feel her coming apart in his arms.
When the explosion came, it was more than flying. It was floating, surrounded by a sea of such incredible sensation that nothing else mattered. Locked inside her, the barb pulsing, heating, driving her pleasure higher as he watched her shudder, watched her eyes become unseeing and heard her cry his name with such satisfaction that it vibrated through his soul.
This was home.
Where the heart was.
Later, as she slept, Jonas pulled on his sweatpants and padded silently to their daughter's room. He had thought to catch her sleeping. She was a baby; if she wasn't eating, then she normally wanted her mother, and voiced that desire loudly.
She wasn't sleeping. She was staring up at the mobile above her crib, her gaze almost thoughtful as the little fairies that Cassie had gifted her with twirled in the slight breeze created by the central air system.
Her green eyes were dark like her mother's, while the shape of her face was more similar to her aunt's. The curve of her nose was pure Rachel.
Reaching in, he picked her up and placed her against his chest before moving to the living room and standing in front of the window. Turning the baby, he let her watch the snow as it piled high beyond the window.
"I'll protect you," he promised as he cuddled her close in his arms. "With my last breath, I'll protect your mother and you, Amber."
He felt her then. Her mother. Rachel moved from the bedroom and joined them, watching the snow as it fell in fat, lazy flakes, piling on the ground.
"Brandenmore did something, didn't he?" she asked softly as he curved an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
"I'll find out what he did," he swore as he watched her expression in the window, saw the fear that flashed in her eyes.
"She'll be okay," she stated. "Cassie's certain of it." She lifted her face to him. "Is she ever wrong?"
Jonas shook his head. "She's never wrong." But sometimes, she wasn't exactly right.
One thing was certain: The future, and their child's happiness, was now in the hands of one of their greatest enemies. And Jonas was damned if that sat well with him.
"Jonas?" Rachel turned in his hold and stared up at him, her hand settling against her daughter's small arm. "Whatever happens, we're together and I love you. Forever."
And suddenly the world was that much brighter.
"You're my treasure," he touched her lips gently, "forever, Rachel."
Catching her hand, he drew her with him as he laid Amber in the crib and took his mate back to bed.
No one heard the small sound that was made after their bedroom door closed: a soft, sweet, kittenish little purr.
Keep reading for a special preview of
THE DEMON IN ME
by Michelle Rowen
Coming May 2010 from Berkley Sensation!
CHAPTER 1
"You're Eden Riley, right? Wow, it's so exciting to meet a real psychic!"
Eden cringed and slowly turned to see a wide-eyed man with a receding hairline staring at her expectantly. She forced a smile. "That would be me."
He beamed back at her. "I'm Constable Santos. I was sent ahead to keep you company until Detective Hanson arrives. He's running a bit late."
Since she'd been waiting a half hour already, she kind of figured that.
"I should probably warn you that the detective's a bit of a skeptic. He's not that big on adding psychics to the investigation."
"Trust me, Constable, I'm used to that kind of attitude."
He waved a hand. "Don't let it bother you. You'll just show him how insightful you are and make a believer out of him."
Eden tried to hold on to her smile. "Fair enough."
"So how does this work?" he asked.
"How does what work?"
"The psychic thing to solve our unsolved cases. Everyone's still buzzing about what you did last month."
Eden's stomach twisted unpleasantly. Up until last month, and just before she'd moved to the city, she'd worked at Psychic Connexions, a phone-based service located two hours north of Toronto, meant for entertainment only--astrology readings, love life and job advice. She had a talent for saying the right thing at the right time and keeping her customers happy enough to get them to be repeat callers.
She simply told people what they wanted to hear, helped by some mild insight and a knack for reading tarot cards. Everyone was happy.
But it didn't mean she was really, truly psychic.
Little did she know that one of her regulars was Meredith Holt, the wife of Toronto's current chief of police and a devout believer in All Things Mystical. She'd discovered Eden by accident (or fate, as she'd later relate the story) when her usual fortune-teller was away on vacation and she "got a hunch" to call the number advertised in the Entertainment section of the newspaper. Eden simply knew her as Merry, a lovely woman who always ended their daily twenty-minute sessions with a wish of "brightest blessings."
One day Merry called in crying and near hysterical. Her beloved Maltese terrier, Sunny, had gone missing and she was beside herself with worry.
There were . . . moments . . . when things just clicked psychically for Eden, even without consulting her deck of cards. As Merry poured out her emotions over the phone at $1.99 a minute, a very clear and precise image of a little white ball of fluff slammed into Eden's head with all the subtly of a Mack truck.
She knew that the dog was locked in Merry's neighbor's rarely used toolshed, living off birdseed and rainwater for two days and was about to be adopted by a family of concerned raccoons.
She made up the last bit to soften the news.
Merry had thanked her profusely and Eden had gone back to her day, which included assuring a hysterical Aquarius that her Gemini boyfriend was going to pop the
The next day, her boss got a phone call from the chief of police, who wanted to get in touch with Eden because of the grateful ravings of his dog-obsessed wife. He wanted to have Eden on the roster of psychic consultants for future police work.
The man would not take no for an answer.
Eden's boss at Psychic Connexions let her go later that week, explaining that his business, such as it was, would be better off without any close police scrutiny.
If she'd been able to psychically foresee that unfortunate outcome, she would have saved some money for a rainy day.
The first time she'd been called in to officially consult on a police case two weeks ago, it'd been a total bust. Even though she'd concentrated so hard it felt like her head would explode, she'd sensed absolutely nothing useful to do with the missing person. She hated disappointing people, especially when they looked at her with that too-familiar, hard-edged, cynical glare. Most people thought psychics, even mild ones like her, were major frauds, and failing to prove them wrong was even more annoying.
She had no guarantees this time would be any better. The house she presently stood in front of had recently been home to a serial killer and the police wanted to see if she could "sense something" about the killer's current whereabouts.
She wanted to help if she could, but maybe she was in way over her head.
In fact, she was quite sure of it.
Eden cleared her throat nervously. The mid-October air was getting cool enough that she regretted not bringing a light jacket along today. "So . . . how much longer do you think Detective Hanson will be?"
Santos seemed stumped by the question for a moment, but then looked over to his left side. "Oh, here he comes now. But since you're psychic you probably knew he was nearly here, right?"
So very wrong. Eden took a deep breath, held it, and glanced over at the approaching figure.
Detective Ben Hanson was six-foot-two of gorgeous with a body like a Greek god and a face like a movie star. There was a reason that his last name sounded like "handsome." She'd noticed that women swooned--seriously swooned--when he walked past. And the fact that he was a cop, not to mention an unmarried cop, only added the proverbial fuel to the sexy-man fire. Eden had seen him twice before when she'd visited police headquarters at the chief's insistence. When she found out he was the one assigned to walk her through this case, she dropped everything and rushed over.
Did that make her seem completely sad and pathetic?
Yeah, well, Eden thought as she let her breath out in a long sigh. The truth hurts.
He approached and her heart did an annoying ka-thunk-a-thunk . It wasn't as though she expected them to get married and have lots of babies, but she did like checking him out.
He made her feel like a sixteen-year-old high schooler--geeky and pimply and drooling over the out-of-her-league football quarterback.
Eden was closing in on thirty now. She wasn't pimply anymore. However, the geeky thing was still up for debate. Gorgeous guys had a tendency to make her completely and embarrassingly tongue-tied.
"Is the psychic here yet, Santos?" he asked.
Hello? Had she suddenly become invisible?
Santos nodded at her. "This is Eden Riley."
That finally earned her a glance, but there was zero warmth or humor behind it. "Then let's get this over with."
Obviously, she thought wryly, he's already fallen madly in love with me, but is having a hard time showing it.
"Sounds super," Eden said, forcing enthusiasm past her nervousness. "Lead the way, Detective."
The sour-faced look that comment received from him confirmed it was official: She was still a geek.
She followed him to the average-looking house. The front door had some of that police-line-do-not-cross tape on it. He ripped it away and entered the front hallway that led to a small kitchen.
"Here's how this is going to go. The suspect vacated this location about six days ago. Our leads as to where he went have come up dry. The sergeant seems to think you might be able to"--he glanced at her--"work some mojo and tell us where he's hiding."
Eden raised her eyebrows. "Mojo?"
He waved his hand in a flippant manner. "Whatever it is you think you can do. Hocus-pocus. Mojo. You know."
He was lucky he was so hot or she might be annoyed by his rude and dismissive attitude. "For the record, Detective, I didn't ask to be here. It was requested of me." She cleared her throat. "If you'd prefer, I can take my, uh . . . mojo somewhere else."
"The chief thinks you can help."
"But you don't."
"No, actually I don't."
"Because you don't believe in psychics."
He raised his blue-eyed gaze steadily to hers. "That's right."
"Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not all that convinced, myself." She crossed her arms.
"Excuse me?"
She chewed her bottom lip and tried not to feel like a big, fat fraud. "I can't seem to control where and when I see stuff. It's not a tap I can turn on and get a big glass of sparkling psychic water. I just want you to know that up front so you're . . . you're not disappointed if nothing happens today."