“We are not alone,” he mouthed as her eyes widened in dawning terror. “And this isn’t the time for this.”
Of course it wasn’t.
The time would never come.
He was the Devil. The Grim Reaper of the Breeds and he’d come to drag her away and make certain she never became a danger to the species again.
Everyone had lied to her. She was a liability. A secret they didn’t want to risk. She knew that now.
She knew it, because the Breed pinning her to the floor with the strength of his hips and his very aroused cock was not a potential lover.
He was a killer.
He was the Devil, and he would have no other reason to be there other than—
To kill her.
TWO
Terror.
Anger.
Injustice.
Fascination.
So many emotions.
Katie couldn’t seem to settle on just one, or to figure which was uppermost. But the resounding regret, she finally realized, was the emotion that seemed to beat harder at her brain.
Why did her body pick this moment, this man, to become sexual? She was twenty-three years old and she’d berated her sexuality as well as her heart for so many years for being unable to react to the opposite sex as other women did.
She had dated. She’d tried to force a need, an arousal for some of the more appealing prospects she’d known as potential lovers, yet she’d never been able to work up enough interest to actually join one in bed. Even Douglas, the fiancé who had informed her that he had no intention of allowing Breed genetics into any children he would eventually bring into the world. And besides, he’d sneered, he’d never been into fucking animals.
He’d slipped the engagement ring off her finger while she was too weak to fight, even had she wanted to, and he had walked away without even saying good-bye. But in his gaze she had glimpsed the pure disgust he’d felt at the thought of her.
Now, in the middle of attempting to escape a situation she didn’t understand, that sexuality had kicked into overdrive with the Breed known for being seen only when someone was such a liability to the Breed community that they were marked for termination.
Termination.
As though she weren’t human—
Oh yeah, she wasn’t human, she thought half hysterically.
She wasn’t human, she wasn’t an animal. She was a Breed.
She was something in-between, and that wasn’t something she had expected.
Why had the Breed leaders, the very same ones that had sat in her father’s living room such a short time ago and appeared so compassionate, marked her for death?
“Why?” she whispered, needing to know, to understand why she had to die by this man’s hand when she would so much prefer to be stroked by it.
The hard, savage smile that pulled at his lips was accompanied by a flash of white-hot lust in the odd, amber-speckled eyes staring down at her.
“Orders, baby.” A shiver raced through her at the hard rasp of his voice.
Orders? Just because of orders?
He was going to kill her despite the fact that he was iron hard and hot between her thighs, the erect length of his cock pressing firmly against her sex.
He was going to kill her despite the fact that he was the only man she’d ever felt her body grow hot and moist for?
“Damn,” she whispered. “This really sucks.”
Why the hell did she think he was there? Devil questioned silently. Hell, wasn’t she the one that requested asylum while her grandfather Walter O’Sullivan was under investigation for having overseen one of the most notorious Breed labs in Ireland? Hell, it was even the Breeds who had managed to track him down. Then, once he disappeared, it was Breeds that found him once again, and took him into custody.
It wasn’t as though he had volunteered.
It sure as hell wasn’t as though he wanted to be right here, right now, his body strung so tight, his dick so hard, that he was amazed he could still breathe.
Or could he?
He felt lightheaded, as though he couldn’t quite pull in enough oxygen, couldn’t convince his body that he was drawing in air.
What the hell was she doing.
Trying to push him away?
Before she could push against his chest with her dainty little hands, he caught both her wrists, pulled them above her head and pressed them into the floorboard firmly.
Hell no she wasn’t pushing him off her. He liked the position they were in just fine. With her pretty legs spread, her thighs gripping his hips as though she had no intention of ever letting him go, and all the while her hot little pussy was pressed just as tight against his cock as possible.
Damn, she was pretty too. The pictures he’d seen the night before hadn’t done her justice.
Forget pretty, she was fucking gorgeous.
Pure creamy flesh with the lightest scattering of freckles over those high, aristocratic cheekbones. Emerald eyes blinked up at him in confusion and in pain. Irish eyes. Damned pretty Irish eyes. The prettiest he’d ever seen in his life.
And he’d seen a lot of Irish eyes.
“You don’t have to . . .” her breath caught, lashes fluttering as he chose that moment to grind himself against her, to feel the moist heat through the barrier of her panties and his denim.
He was going to end up fucking her here and now if she wasn’t careful, despite the fact that their driver, Flint McCain, would hear every hungry, pleading gasp he’d draw from her.
“Orders. It’s all your own fault, dammit.” Her fault he was hornier than he’d ever been in his life, and it was her fault he was less than a breath from screwing them both into ecstasy.
“My fault?” Feminine outrage and hunger scented the air around him. “How is it my fault?”
She was acting as though she had never made the damned request of the Breed Protection Network to help her escape from Ireland and find a secure place to hide until the furor had died down a little.
“Well it’s sure as hell not my fault,” Devil growled down at her, wondering if he could pull back if he actually allowed himself to lower his head and kiss those pretty, pouty lips. Because he really did want to kiss them.
“Well you’re the one doing it!” Petite nostrils flared, and the hint of those cute dimples he’d seen in her pictures completely disappeared as she frowned up at him.
She’d had dimples in the pictures he’d seen.
“You’re the one that asked for it,” he snarled down at her, unable to resist using his free hand to slide beneath her body, grip the rounded curve of her ass and hold her to him.
“Me?” She stared back at him in surprise for a second before comprehension slowly dawned. “Wait, you’re with the Breed Protection Network?”
Had Lobo sent him to rescue a madwoman?
He was beginning to think the other man might have done just that, because she was now staring up at him as though she’d believed something entirely different to this point.
“Why the hell did you think I was here?”
She blinked back at him before those bright emerald eyes as they darkened with uncertainty. “You’re the Devil. You only come after Breeds marked to die. Right?”
Hell.
Sometimes, having a killer reputation could be a hell of an inconvenience.
“I’m not going to kill you.” Unless he ended up fucking them both to death.
As long as she wasn’t a threat, personally, to the Reevers—or to those he’d sworn to protect. He doubted she represented much of a threat to anything or anyone, let alone the family he’d sworn his loyalty to.