Could she be Death?
Henry Richard tucked his hands into the loose pockets of his slacks and stared in the direction the Raider had taken. She was about the right age and build. And there was a resemblance to the photos he had attained, though it was so slight he couldn't countenance that she was Death.
But it was possible.
"Is there any information on how Jonas captured her, or why he has allowed her to live?"
Even the Breeds had placed a price on Death's head.
"Just that she has something he wants." Acker shook his head, the white-blond strands of his hair lifting in the breeze.
"Then it must be her," he mused. "He would want the information she stole when she escaped."
Jonas Wyatt wasn't the only one who wanted that information. His men had managed to track her to a certain area, but no further. The information she had stolen from the labs the day she had killed the scientists working there had been so sensitive, so important, that millions had been spent trying to locate it.
"We could take her."
Henry shook his head slowly. "We follow her. Jonas will overlook the murders he believes she committed in exchange for the information she has. It could explain why he left without her."
"I duplicated her killings exactly." Acker's assurances didn't matter. All that mattered was the results.
Henry nodded again. "Yes. This would explain everything. They definitely suspect her of the killings, so she may well be Death. Watch her. If they head out of town, then we know we have Death."
Satisfaction raged through him. He was so very close to destroying the Breeds. He could feel it. If this was indeed Death, and Acker had committed the crimes in a manner similar enough to her M.O., then framing her would be that much easier. And satisfying. He would show her how unpredictable the Breeds were, how close to the merciless animals they had been created to be.
He would let nothing steal this chance from him. Enough had been stolen from him because of his grandfather's perfidy in aiding in the creation of these monsters, these abominations against the All Mighty God.
How he wished his grandfather still lived. Henry Vanderal Demarcy had been a fool. The daughter, H.R.'s mother, hadn't been enough for her father. Vanderale Demarcy had wanted a son, rather than the grandson that would be born later. He had created his son. Allowed his seed to be tainted by Breed coding, so he could betray the daughter he had been given.
Henry Richard Vanderale Demarcy. The bastard. He was H.R.'s grandfather, H.R. had even been named after him, though he refused to use the name Henry Richard, or any part of it. He wanted no part of his patriarchal kin. If he were still alive, H.R. would have killed his grandfather himself. He had helped create these monsters so he would have his perfect son, had stolen most of his vast fortune to give to that son. In doing so, he had left H.R.'s grandmother with barely enough money to hold on to the estate she had been left. And her Vanderale kin in South Africa had certainly held no interest in helping her at the time.
Vanderale Industries was now one of the largest conglomerates in the world, and even they, bastards that they were, supported the Breeds. Though he should have expected no less. Evidently, Vanderale genetics carried a trace of insanity.
He would forgive them no more than he had forgiven his grandfather.
H.R. bared his teeth in fury. The first Leo. The first ever created, the first to escape. And in escaping, he had gained the fortune H.R.'s grandfather had secretly stolen from beneath his wife's nose, then vanished without a trace.
The bastard. H.R.'s family had suffered. They had fought and scraped after his death, until H.R.'s mother had married into the powerful Alonzo family.
His grandfather had betrayed them for his animal son.
Henry swore again, as he had for decades, that each Breed would pay. That he would personally see to it that they were wiped from the face of the earth. They were abominations. Creatures. They had no right to life, and he would make certain they returned to the hell from which they had been spawned. They could join ole Henry Vanderale Demarcy within the fires of everlasting judgment. And he would be the one to send them there.
CHAPTER 21
Wicked, erotic sensuality wrapped around Lance's senses as he leaned against the wall, just inside the door of his home, and stared down in pleasure. Harmony wasn't a woman to be denied when she decided she wanted something. She'd had his jeans loose before they reached the house, her wicked nails torturing his cock as he fought for breath.
He had no more than managed to get them into the house, than the door slammed behind them and she was on her knees. She was on her knees now, and his were threatening to collapse.
He couldn't take his eyes off her. The sight of her face, her eyes closed, her expression sensual and flushed as he filled her mouth with his cock.
Slick, heated, her tongue licked over the bulging crest before she sucked it noisily to her throat and drove him crazy with the little rumbling growls that vibrated against it. Clenching his hands in her hair, he braced his back against the wall and fought for control. Control nothing— hell, he needed strength to stay on his feet. The little wanton was sucking it out of him one moist inch at a time as he panted from the pleasure.
"I'm definitely going to have to spank you." As soon as he could catch his breath. "God, baby… yeah. Your mouth is so fucking good."
It was beyond good. It was the second most wondrous place on the earth. The first was wet and hot and waited between her luscious thighs.
Another hard, rumbling purr vibrated in her throat. He swore he felt it clear to his balls. Kneading her hair, he clenched his teeth and fought past the dizzying sensations threatening to swamp him. Hell, he didn't want to come yet. Not yet. Not when it felt so fucking good. When the passion and arousal that transformed Harmony's face held him spellbound.
"Fuck!" His lips pulled back from his teeth as her eyes opened slowly, the engorged head popping free of her lips so her tongue could lick.
She licked like she held a favored treat, curling her hot little tongue beneath the swollen crest before covering it once more with her mouth.
"Witch," he panted. "That hot little mouth is going to get you spanked." He could see her bare bottom turned up to him now, blushing from his hand as the soft, silken folds below it glistened with her cream.
She hummed heatedly.
"Like that thought?" He fought to breathe as her hand stroked the length of flesh her mouth couldn't consume. Lower, her other hand cupped and massaged his balls, her nails scraping at the flesh with such destructive pleasure he swore he was going to come any second.
She stole his sanity. She was wrapped so firmly around his soul that each touch, each look from her was heaven. This surpassed pleasure though.
Sweat gathered on his forehead, on his chest where his unbuttoned shirt clung to his skin. A ragged moan tore from his lips as her mouth tightened then released him. Her tongue was just killing him.
"I'm not going to be able to hold on, baby." He blinked the sweat from his eyes, his hands tightening in her hair as he tried to pull her from him.
Her teeth scraped warningly. That should have hurt. He didn't like teeth against his cock. But the barest edge raked against him, sending a sunburst exploding before his vision with the pleasure. At the same time, her strokes deepened, the suckling of her mouth intensified, and he was lost. Lance heard his own shout, hoarse with tortured pleasure, as he erupted in her mouth. His cock jerked, throbbed, then his seed spilled to her waiting tongue in hard, heavy spurts. Each eruption had his body jerking as she continued to suckle him gently. His breath wheezed from his chest, his knees nearly buckled, and he leaned forward to counter the weakness.
"God, yeah…" he groaned. "Sweet heaven. Sweet baby." He was racked by ecstasy and helpless in the grip of it as a final, desperate stream of semen filled her mouth.
She pulled back then, the feel of her lips raking over his cock sending hard tremors of pleasure racing through his nerve endings, as he yanked her quickly to her feet. He was not going to make it to the bed. It just wasn't possible. Lifting her into his arms, he ignored her frantic objection as he stepped to the living room. There was no time to undress her. If he didn't get inside her, he was going to go crazy with the need. Stepping before the deep, heavily pillowed chair that just happened to be the first item of furniture he came to, Lance placed her quickly on her feet.
"Turn." He turned her around as his hands went to the clasp and zipper of her pants.
"There's a couch…"
"Fuck it."
"Floor." She was breathing just as hard as he was, her hands fumbling with his pants as he released hers.
"Bend over."
Her pants cleared her rear. The pale, soft, golden globes made him pause as he pushed at her shoulder blades, arching her over until she rested against the back pillow.
"Oh hell yes," he whispered as one hand moved over the soft satin flesh. "Beautiful. Just fucking beautiful, baby."
"You have a thing about butts, Lance." Her words were part moan as his other hand joined the exploration of the creamy cheeks.
"Oh, baby, you just have no idea. And this pretty butt has to be the finest work of art I've ever seen."
There wasn't so much as a blemish to mar the soft gold sheen of skin. Her ass was just plump enough for a man to hold on to, and just curved enough to make watching her walk a hobby in and of itself. He did love watching her walk.
"Lance." She jerked as his fingers slid over the tempting mounds until the tips met soft, delicious, damp heat.
"You're wet, Harmony." He stepped closer, gripping the shaft of his cock and sliding it through the slick glaze.
"Stop teasing me…"
"But teasing you makes you that much wetter." He let the head of his cock slide along the sweet folds until it glanced off her swollen clitoris.
Harmony shuddered.
"So warm and wet." He couldn't help but praise her. Hell, he was damned near drooling for her, and still, just the feel of her was enough to hold him spellbound.
"Lance. I need you." Her voice throbbed; aching arousal and need turned her normally vibrant tone to a rich, husky
And she needed him.
Lance lifted his head blindly as his cock found the sweet, tight entrance to her pussy. Her muscles gripped him, sucking him in slowly as he rose over her. His hands braced the back of the chair as his lips touched her ear.
"I love you," he whispered gently.
Harmony's cry shocked her. As he whispered those last three words, he thrust inside her, hard and heavy, pushing through sensitive tissue and gripping muscles and sending fire racing through her body.
Her back arched as she tried to straighten, only to find herself held in place by the hard hands that covered hers and the heavy chest against her back.
"You're tight, baby," he crooned at her ear as his hips flexed, caressing her internally as she tried to breathe. She needed to breathe. But every time she tried, he moved again, sending torturous pleasure to tear through her senses.
As she tipped her head back, rumbling cries came from her throat, as his lips caressed her jaw, his teeth raking against it and sending scalding friction to sizzle along her nerve endings.
"I need you…" She could barely speak as she tried to move her hips, fought to work herself on the length of iron impaling her.
God, his cock was so thick it burned as it spread her internal muscles apart.
"You have me, baby." He nipped at her chin before his lips moved back to her ear.
"Every bit of me."
He began to move then, with strokes that were in no way easy or gentle. Hunger tore through both of them, sharpening the edge of arousal to desperation. She had never felt the intensity that she felt with Lance, the need for more—more pleasure, more of the emotions swirling through her chest and tightening her throat. She had never realized until this man that she needed anything beyond vengeance. What she felt now though she knew she would never be able to live without. The connection, the bonding to another person. The warmth that filled her soul with his every touch.
