The Breed Next Door
Page 6

He sighed wearily. Dammit, he was too tired, too hungry for the taste of her to watch every damn word he said and every move he made. He wasn't exactly the social sort, and the "rules of polite society" wasn't a class he had found the time to take.
"Lyra." He breathed out roughly, his hand lifting to her cheek, marveling at the silken texture of her flesh. "I'm an animal," he whispered softly. "My sense of smell is so highly advanced that I can detect any scent. Especially the sweet, soft heat coming from you. It's like forcing a starving man to stand before a banquet and not taste the riches."
She blinked up at him, swallowing tightly, her gaze suspicious, softening only slightly as his thumb smoothed over her lips.
He wanted to say more, but the silken curves held his attention, mesmerized him.
His tongue throbbed as the glands spilled more of the spicy taste into his mouth. The blood pumped harder through his veins as his control slipped further.
He lifted his hands from her shoulders carefully.
"The bedroom is upstairs, third door on the landing. Get away from me, Lyra. Now. Before I lose all control." She frowned back at him.
"I don't like the way you make decisions for me, Tarek," she snapped furiously. But, thank God, she began to back carefully away from him. "It's annoying."
"I'm certain it is." The smell of her still wrapped around him, tormented him. "We can discuss it tomorrow over coffee. Now go to bed."
She sniffed in disdain, glaring back at him as she reached the doorway.
"This tendency to boss me around best not become a habit," she warned him again. "Otherwise, I might disabuse you of the idea that you can get away with it. Count yourself lucky I'm letting you off the hook and escaping. Otherwise, you'd be one molested kitty, Jordan."
He could do nothing but stare at her disappearing back in shock as she muttered the heated words. Molested kitty? He groaned at the phrase. Good Lord, the woman was going to make him completely insane.
He sighed in relief, forcing himself to let her go before pulling the cell phone from its holder at his side and pressing the calling pad impatiently.
"Jonas." Jonas Wyatt, head of Feline Enforcer Affairs at Sanctuary, answered on the first ring.
"We have a problem," Tarek said quietly. "I think I encountered our Trainer tonight. Unfortunately, it wasn't me he was after."
He couldn't get the scent of the assailant out of his mind. It was too damned close to the smell of the clothing, admittedly from years before, that the bastard had worn. Not exact, but damned close.
"Explain." Jonas was a man of few words, which was one of the reasons Tarek liked working for him.
"He was breaking into the neighbor's house. Lyra Mason, she's the sister to three…"
"Special Forces agents." Jonas finished for him. "Grant, Marshal, and Tyree Mason. They headed the force that took down some of the main Breed labs."
Tarek closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Did you know she lived here when I bought this house?" he questioned him.
"I knew of her. I hadn't run a full investigation because I saw no reason to." He could almost see Jonas shrug with the words.
"Twenty-four, accountant, lives modestly, a nice little nest egg but nothing substantial. Medical records show a virgin, with all the normal childhood ailments and no police record. I didn't have time to go deeper and had no reason to. Why?" Tarek shook his head. "No reason. I might need to come in soon, though; I think I need a checkup or something." He ran the sides of his tongue over his teeth, feeling a soft warmth spill into his mouth.
"What's wrong?" Jonas was sounding concerned now. About damned time.
"I don't know." He moved to the small foyer that led to the stairs. "Those damned glands at the side of my tongue. They're inflamed and doing funky shit. I swear I taste cinnamon." Silence filled the line.
"Where's the girl?" Jonas asked then. "The Mason girl." Tarek frowned at the question.
"My guest room. Her security system was breached."
"Hell!" Jonas breathed roughly. "Have you fucked her?" A growl rose in his throat. "That's none of your damned business now is it, Jonas?" he asked silkily, dangerously. "Don't overstep your place, buddy."
"Can it, Tarek," he snorted. "And listen close. This is straight from the old scientist who treats the main Pride members. The swollen glands contain a special hormone. That spice filling your mouth, buddy, is an aphrodisiac. Lyra Mason is your mate."
Tarek laughed. Damn, he hadn't taken Jonas for a
comedian.
"Fine. Whatever." He grunted. "Now tell me the truth." He was going to kill Jonas for playing fucking games with him. He wasn't in the mood.
"No shit, Tarek." Jonas sounded much too serious. "It's kept very quiet. A complete ban on the information unless a couple appears to be mating. One of the best-kept secrets in the world." Heat rushed to his head, and then to his dick.
"What do you mean, 'She's my mate'?" Could that account for the almost obsessive lust that had developed in the past months? The patience with her that he would never have had with anyone else? The growing, clawing hunger that kept his cock hard, his senses inflamed?
"Biological, chemical, whatever you want to call it," Jonas snorted. "If you kiss her, it causes the hormone to affect her even more than you. Mating Heat. Complete sexual abandon from now until forever. You poor bastard." There was an edge of envy in his voice, though.
Complete sexual abandon? From now until forever? His mate?
"She's mine," he whispered.
"Yep. That's what the doc says. Somehow, nature picked your perfect woman for you. Have fun."
"Have fun?"
Jonas chuckled. "Tarek, you sound dazed, buddy." He gazed up at the stairs before closing his eyes and shaking his head miserably. He had a feeling Lyra was really going to have a reason to be pissed now.
"Shit," he breathed out roughly. "This is not a good time for this, Jonas. I don't have time for sexual abandon or some kind of fucked-up aphrodisiac. Get the cure out here." Jonas laughed at that.
"I'll bring the latest attempt at contraception instead," he informed him. "Tell her what the hell is going on, and before you take her, be sure she takes the little pink pill. It's worked so far. Their best guess is that the Mating Heat is nature's way of ensuring the success of the species. Because without this pill, conception of the first child occurs quickly. They sure do make some pretty babies, though."
Babies? Tarek swallowed hard. The thought of Lyra carrying his baby did things to him he couldn't explain.
"Just get me some help out here," he snapped, attempting to cover the emotional response suddenly surging through him.
"I'm telling you, Jonas, it's getting dangerous here."
"That goes without saying," Jonas agreed. "I'll head out there myself with Braden and cover you. Let me know how she takes it."
Tarek grunted at that one.
"The information. Not that." He laughed, entirely too amused to suit Tarek. Then his voice sobered. "She's a good woman from what I learned, Tarek. You could have done worse."
"She could have done much better," he said. "You say it's permanent?"
"Like a drug," Jonas said, his voice quieter now. "There are only a few mated couples so far. They're still doing tests, trying to find answers. But so far, it's permanent."
He was fucked. He would have to tell her the truth. If she had a brain in her head, she would run as fast and as far from him as possible. And he would be stuck, obsessed—hell, in love with a woman he knew he had no right to, and no chance of touching.
Chapter Six
The next morning dawned cold, the rain still falling in a listless, icy drizzle along the windowpanes. Every curtain in the house—thick, heavy, rubber-backed curtains—was closed tightly, and the atmosphere between Lyra and Tarek was decidedly tense.
Breakfast consisted of rich, strong coffee and the mound of sausage biscuits Tarek had nuked in the microwave. She had managed to choke down two. God, how did he stand that stuff?
Then she sat, finishing her coffee, watching as he consumed the rest.
He was too quiet. Brooding. His expression savagely relentless as the silence became thick enough to cut with a knife. She could almost see it distorting the air around them.
"I have to go home," she announced as she rose to her feet and took her cup over to the sink. "The security company should be around soon…"
"I canceled the call." His response had her turning back to him slowly. "My people will be here in a few hours to replace the system entirely."
She stared back at him silently for long moments. This wasn't the lazy, often-cautious man she had come to know. He was still, prepared, his body tense. Still sexy as hell, but the caution had been replaced by a dangerous sense of expectation.
"Really?" she finally answered, crossing her arms over her breasts. "And I gave permission for this, when?" When he raised his eyes to hers, she shivered, a tremor racing up her spine at the intense lust, the pure, driving hunger she saw in those eyes.
She could feel her vagina weeping. The juices were fairly dripping from the hidden flesh. And he could smell it. She watched him inhale slowly, as though savoring the scent of her.
"Pervert," she snapped, frowning as sensuality fully marked his expression. "Fine, you make me hot. You can smell it. Now it's time for me to go home. Thanks for saving the night and all that."
She turned for the door.
"Touch that doorknob, and you'll regret it." Her hand was within an inch of gripping it when she drew back slowly at the sound of his voice. She turned, swallowing tightly at the savage expression on his face as he lifted his cup and finished his coffee slowly.
"Tarek, you're going to piss me off," she warned him, suddenly wary. "The silent He-Man crap doesn't get it with me." He leaned back in his chair, watching her with predatory interest. She had seen glimpses of this side of him, but it had never been focused entirely on her. It had her body tightening, adrenaline and excitement rushing through her.
She was sick. That was all there was to it.
He scratched at his chest slowly.
"Amazing things, genetics," he finally stated with a forced calm that made her think of the eye of a hurricane. This was not going to be good.
"Really?" She lifted a brow, standing close to the door as she arched her brow mockingly.
"Really." He nodded. "All kinds of little things start cropping up, surprising the hell out of you, reminding you that Fate does get the final laugh on all our asses."
Oh, this just wasn't going to be good at all.
She moved closer. The bleak, haunted shadows in his eyes had her chest tightening in fear.
"What's wrong?"
He stared back at her silently for long, tense moments.
"I'm debating something," he finally growled, his voice deepening, roughening as his gaze pinned hers. "I've debated all night."
Why did she have this bad feeling he was debating
something that she really wasn't going to be pleased with?
"Yeah?" She inserted mild curiosity into her tone when every bone and muscle of her body was trained on what was coming next.
"Yeah." He nodded slowly, his gaze drifting over her body with lustful intent. "You've made me crazy for months. I'll be damned if I haven't stood by, amused, curious, letting you razz on me every chance you've had."
Yeah, that one had bothered her, too. He never got pissed. Surely he wasn't getting pissed now?