"My brothers will follow along, of course," she informed him, as he felt a curl of trepidation. "They'll grin and smirk, as Daddy questions you, throw out a few questions of their own, then grab the football and rescue you."
"I don't know how to play football." He cleared his throat nervously.
"That's okay, they don't either," she assured him drowsily, confusing him further. "And while the neighborhood guys gather around in the back lot to teach you how not to play football, Mom will be cooking up a storm, and me and the sisters-in-law will be admiring your manly butt and broad shoulders. But don't wear leather to plan football in. You need jeans."
"I always wear leather." It was slicker, harder to grip. It didn't make as much sound when one moved, and he had grown accustomed to it.
"You wear jeans to meet Mom and Dad, so you can play ball with the boys." She yawned again, as though compliance with her little demands were a foregone conclusion. "And remember, Mom makes the best cherry pie in the world. And she still makes homemade vanilla ice cream. You'll love it."
He was certain he would, but that wasn't the point.
"Grace, don't get your hopes up," he whispered, pressing his cheek to the top of her head, as his eyes closed in despair.
She wasn't like him, she had a family, interaction, a life outside of him. He only had her.
"You'll see." She sighed, her body relaxing against him. "You'll see, my family is going to love you."
Her father and brothers would likely warn him away from her with a weapon. When that didn't work, they would complain to the Bureau of Breed Affairs. When that didn't work, they would attempt to turn Grace against him.
He hadn't considered this, the reaction of her family. Hell, he hadn't considered her family at all, and that had been a mistake. He could hear her love for them in her voice. They were important to her. She would hate losing them. She would hate him, if she lost them because she was bound to him by the mating heat.
Matthias could feel sweat beading on his brow. What the hell would he do when that happened? Grace didn't know, she had no concept of how important she was to him. She was his life. She was every dream he had ever dreamed in the hell of the labs. And after his release, the thought of the woman who would eventually fill his life had been his every hope for the future. The first time he had seen her, he had known she would carry his soul through eternity. Life or death, it wouldn't matter, he belonged to Grace Anderson.
And she belonged to her family.
There had to be a way to ensure her family's compliance, he thought. He had money. He could make certain they had no legal difficulties. He could kill their enemies.
No, no killing. Grace wouldn't like that. Okay, he could make their enemies wish they were dead. He had a few resources he could draw on. Men understood such matters. At least, the non-Breed men he knew understood such matters. Were father's and brothers somehow different?
Surely they couldn't be. They were still men. He might not be good enough for Grace, but he could find a way to ensure that they didn't hurt her by turning their backs on her when she refused to toss him free of her life, like she should the mutt he was certain they would believe he was.
He resumed stroking her back, using just his fingertips, relishing the feel of her satiny flesh. He knew she longed to live closer to her parents. He could buy her a home near them, that would surely earn him a few good points.
Damn. He would have to make plans to deal with this one. Research her family before he went to meet them. He would have to research them extensively. Perhaps he'd get lucky, and if worse came to worse, he could find something to hold over their heads to ensure that Grace wasn't hurt.
Because there wasn't a doubt in his mind that they would want him out of her life. He was a Breed. Part animal. He wasn't a man, he was a creation. A freak of science. No man who loved his daughter would want such a mate for her. Hell, he wouldn't want it for his own daughter, why would her father want such a thing?
And he was a killer. Or, he had been a killer.
A smile quirked at the corners of his lips. He had a feeling that before it was over with, many of his habits would be changing. But, that was okay. He was looking forward to it. She was soft and gentle, and as long as he could forestall the problems he knew would come with her family, then he could ensure she stayed soft and gentle with him.
Losing her would kill him, he knew that. Even without the mating heat, his soul was already bound to her in a way that he knew he would never be free of.
He kissed her head, loving the feel of her against his chest, a delicate weight that warmed him to his core.
He would figure out this family thing, for her. He wasn't so certain about the football, though. He had never touched a football in his life, though he had watched other Breeds attempting to learn during his stay on Wolf Mountain in Colorado.
Dealing with her family's hatred of him would be a small price to pay to have her in his life. He would pretend not to notice it, make himself as unobtrusive as possible, and should they need any help in anything, he would take care of the matter.
He nodded with a barely discernible movement. That should work. And if worse came to worse… he sighed. If worse came to worse, he would deal with it. She was worth it to him.
"I love you, Grace," he whispered against her hair.
He loved her laughter, her smile. The way her nose wrinkled when he teased her, the way her ears twitched when he kissed them.
She shifted against him as though trying to burrow deeper into his chest, and he let a smile tilt his lips and gathered her closer to him. His arms surrounded her, his head bent over hers, and he let her legs tangle with his.
His body was now as bound by her as his soul was. Silken limbs encased him, and soft breaths fell against his chest.
For the first time in his life, Matthias closed his eyes and slept while a woman lay tangled with his own body. He had never before been able to relax with a lover. But damn if he could help it. She had worn him out. She was as enthusiastic in their sex play as she was at everything else she did. Maybe a bit more so, he thought, as he remembered her nails raking his back and her demands for harder, faster, now, echoing in his head.
Yeah, definitely more enthusiastic in their love play was his last, distant thought as breathed out in exhaustion and let sleep throw its final web across his senses.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dawn wasn't far from making its first appearance over the horizon when Matthias came awake with a start. The scent of diseased perversions and hatred filled his senses, as he pressed his hand over Grace's lips and brought her quickly awake.
"Danger," he growled softly at her ear, while he pressed the panic button at the side of his watch. Jonas was their only hope. "Dress quickly."
He moved out of the bed, pulling her with him and tossing her the clothes he had insisted she keep by the bed, just in case. Jeans, a T-shirt, and light jacket. Thick socks and hiking boots.
He jerked his leather pants on, a black shirt, socks, and boots. Within seconds he was dressed and pulling his duffel bag away from the wall.
His weapons were there. The tools of his trade. He strapped the pistol to his thigh, knives against the underside of his arms. He tucked a backup pistol in one boot, a dagger in the other. He grabbed the shorter model automatic rifle he used for warfare.
"Matthias?" Grace whispered in fear, as he grabbed her wrist and moved her quickly from the bedroom.
They didn't have much time. He could feel the coyote soldiers moving in, could smell their blood-drenched souls, but they hadn't surrounded the house yet.
"It's okay. Just do as I say, and we'll be fine."