The primal genetics that were so much a part of Gideon had drawn back in discomfort, uncertain about nearing the female any farther than he had when he’d brushed against her at the airport the other night.
Justice hadn’t mated her.
He’d done something far, far more primal.
Lawe Justice had somehow managed to mark her with just enough of his scent to ensure that any other Breed recognized his intent to mate her. She belonged to a powerful, dangerous primal being.
A Breed who would kill to keep what he had marked as his.
Lawe unlocked the door and eased it open. Slowly, he stepped into the hotel room Diane had taken for the night and glanced around the small room.
The sound of the shower running and the soft scent of her wafting from the bathroom assured him she was currently standing beneath the running water rather than watching from some shadowy corner, waiting to spring a trap.
She was actually damned good at that. She was as quiet as any Breed, just as capable and, when needed, just as merciless. She lacked only their strength. Their strength and their ability to call upon the DNA that added the extra surge of power, the rush of adrenaline infused with a feral hormone, which added to their strength and their lack of mercy.
The scent of her, beyond the artificial soy and almond scent of her soap and shampoos, reached out to him, causing him to close his eyes as a grimace of hunger pulsed in the engorged iron-hard length of his dick.
God, he swore her scent was that of peace, of solace. Whenever she was near he could feel those qualities attempting to slip past his guard.
The scent of her was like a beacon. She smelled of a spring rain and summer heat, which pierced him with a bolt of pure lust that tightened his balls and filled his cock with a furious, burning sexual need.
She smelled of promises, and only God knew how he figured that one. It was a scent he couldn’t pin down, one that filled with warmth that went beyond lust and had his arms aching to hold her.
Just hold her.
To find and give comfort.
Comfort was another quality he’d never truly known and had no idea how he managed to identify it.
As he turned the dead bolt on the door, the bathroom door opened and a rush of steam spilled into the room. Before Lawe could draw in a breath, Diane stepped out and for a few precious seconds stole any chance he had of breathing.
Water beaded on her shoulders. A small rivulet coursed across her collarbone. Beneath the towel, her legs shimmered with a satiny smoothness that bespoke regular visits to salons for exfoliation. There were no razor marks, no redness from waxing. She was particular when it came to her body. She was rounded but toned, healthy but without the current fixation on being skinny.
She was, to the male and to the animal, perfection.
Arousal hit him instantly, throwing his senses into chaos as her soft freshness lanced through his control. He’d never imagined there was a break in the shields that kept emotion from weakening the formidable drive and determination he’d once had to never feel for another being.
In that instant, he learned differently. He felt those emotions tearing through him, rushing his senses and throwing his beliefs to the wind. And for a second—for one unbelievable second—he imagined fighting at her side, sharing their triumphs and hearing her laughter at their successes.
A growl rumbled in his chest, hoarse and unbidden as he fought to keep from crossing the room and jerking her to him. To keep from taking what he so desperately needed her to give him.
Diane froze as she reentered the bedroom. A flush mounted her cheekbones, filled her gaze. She could feel the warmth washing up her face before increasing to pure flaming heat and rushing south to send a surge of sensation burning through her pussy. At the same time, her chest clenched, emotion swamped her and the saddened realization that she could have him or her freedom burned like a blaze through her mind.
Oh Lord. She didn’t need this. She didn’t need the emotion. She didn’t need something else, or someone else, to lose. And with Lawe, there was no other course. She could have the man she longed for, or the freedom that was the same as the air she breathed.
Her thighs clenched as her clit began to ache, her vagina spilling the heated, slick moisture that made her pussy feel swollen, her clit more sensitive.
The arousal that tormented her whenever she thought of him kicked into overdrive.
But she didn’t have to think of him now, her aroused, overheated body screamed. He was here. He was aroused. There for the taking. Ready. Willing.
A silent groan and that tingling urge to rub against him had her juices gathering further, easing past the swollen folds of her pussy to dampen her thighs as well.
Diane could feel her body softening, her thighs weakening. She tightened her grip on the towel. Her fingers clenched in the material between her breasts, holding on to it as though it were all that was holding back that insane need to touch him.
To be touched by him.
How did he do it to her? How did he make her feel so vulnerable and needy? How did he make her want him so desperately when she hadn’t ached for a man in years? She had never ached for anyone like this, she realized. For that “something,” that ethereal promise of “more.” That satisfaction, satiation and pure contentment she’d seen in other women who had mated with Breed males and found their fulfillment.
Her sister. Lyra Jordan. Megan Arness. Merinus Lyons. Faith Arlington, and even Storme McKenzie and Ria Warrant. Strong, vital mates to arrogant, dominant and yet loving Breed males who had accepted their mates were more than vessels to continue the Breed legacy, or porcelain dolls that needed to be smothered with protection.
Here was a really good one. Why the hell was she so willing to throw away her pride and her independence for a momentary pleasure? Why, in that second, did she suddenly wish she were less independent and more like her sister, Rachel, just to please the brooding, somber Breed standing before her.
He made her dream. That small voice, so filled with hope, whispered inside her as the memories of all she had lost over the years rose to torment her.
He made her dream honest-to-God vivid-color dreams of a future colored in more than blood. She had begun dreaming of a man that the woman, the part of her that was a warrior and the part that was still a frightened little girl desperate to find control and freedom, could hold on to. Hold on to and still be herself.
“Why are you here?” she forced the words past her lips, forced herself to ask the question rather than moving to him and begging him to fuck her.
Or to allow her to fuck him.
Whichever could be achieved and her orgasm reached in the quickest amount of time.
Instead, she filled her tone with irritation to add to the unwelcome glare that she forced to crease her expression.
“Why are you here?” he repeated the question with a heavy emphasis on her location. “You were not told to resume this mission.”
The wrong thing to say and he knew it the moment the words passed his lips. Unfortunately, there was no way to call them back.
Diane smiled back at him sweetly as she stepped across the room, and Lawe couldn’t help but watch her warily. She was damned well trained and quick as hell and he knew it.
But she didn’t move for him. Attacking him obviously wasn’t on the agenda tonight. At least, not yet.
Watching him warily Diane moved past the bottom of the bed, keeping her gaze on him, her body tense and ready to run as she moved to the backpack lying on the mattress.