Jonas was drawing her in. He was tying her to him in ways she wasn't certain she wanted to be tied to him.
Love.
She had thought she loved Devon. Those months in Switzerland had been incredible even though the job she had gone there for hadn't quite worked out.
She had thought it fate when she met Devon.
He had been bright, funny. She hadn't even known who his family was for months. Not until his father had arrived, dour, disapproving, and informed her that she wasn't good enough to marry into the elite Marshal clan.
Her confusion had been almost comical.
He'd looked Devon straight in the eye and disowned him until he decided to get some balls, as he called it, and ditch the dumb bitch he had knocked up.
He'd thrown a clip of money on the floor, ordered her to get an abortion and left.
Devon had sworn he loved her. He had contacts, he'd claimed. He would get a job; he loved working.
She snorted at the memory. That night he had disappeared. Not just with the money clip and Rachel's money, but also her passport and credit cards as well. She had been stranded; the rent and utilities were due. There had been no food.
He'd left a letter, short and to the point. He would contact her when the doctor he directed her to called and informed him the abortion had been performed. She could go home then.
The embassy had refused to help her after firing her. Of course, Devon's father had ensured that. She hadn't been able to get a job. Every time she secured one, something happened and she was fired within hours.
She'd called Kane out of desperation when she couldn't reach Diana.
And now, here she was.
Perhaps Devon had been fate after all, she thought. That road had led her to Merinus, and then to Jonas.
Or perhaps she was simply being as fanciful as Diana had always accused her of being.
Either way, here she was, and she was learning that love wasn't as tidy, or as sweet and easy, as she had once thought it should be.
It came with complications, and it came with a hell of a lot of questions.
Turning, she strode to the doorway, and for the second time, came to a stop. In front of the fire, on the large, soft rug before it, Jonas lay with Amber.
He'd changed clothes. Dressed in loose sweatpants, bare feet and a bare chest, he lay next to the baby as the fire flickered in front of them.
Amber was watching the flames with the drowsy wonder that only a baby could show. Her lashes lay low, sleep edging her expression as Jonas softly hummed a lullaby.
The dark rhythm of the sound lulled her as well, but it did nothing to cause drowsiness. Rachel felt her entire body flushing with arousal instead. The sensation was deeper, stronger, than it had ever been, fueled by emotions that tore through her, that left her aching for his arms around her, or a glimmer of warmth and amusement in his gaze.
Was it mating heat, or simply an amplification of the emotional and physical response to the person she was meant to love anyway?
Society had created a world where commitment to a relationship, to marriage, didn't mean what it had once meant. Marriages broke up over money, family, petty arguments and jobs that left individuals tired and searching for peace. A peace that wasn't often found when they walked through the doors and met screaming children, endless chores, and phone calls from demanding relatives.
Had nature decided to circumvent the ability to ignore the relationship and the commitment to one person?
What she felt wasn't a forced seduction or hunger. This was natural. What she would feel once she took the kiss she knew was awaiting her was another thing. That kiss would tie her to one man for more than a normal lifetime. And it would make her a part of something she still didn't understand, but found she didn't want to miss.
And her sister, Diana, said she lacked a sense of adventure. She was about to go on an adventure that even her sister would hesitate to face.
"She's almost asleep." The soft hum stopped to be replaced by the rich, dark sound of his voice. "She loves watching the flames."
And watching him with her daughter was breaking her heart. The man lying on the floor was nothing like the Director of Breed Affairs that he had been when he walked out of this cabin.
This man was meant to be a father. He was meant to cherish and to love everyone who came under his protection.
"It's the flickering light she loves," Rachel told him as she watched her daughter's lashes lower farther.
His fingers gently stroked the baby's arm, her tiny fingers. Amber looked so tiny next to him that Rachel wondered that he wasn't frightened to touch her. At times, Rachel was terrified of breaking her.
"She looks like you," Jonas said, his voice still soft. "A living beauty."
Rachel's breath caught as his gaze lifted from the child, to her. For once, the living mercury of his eyes wasn't raging. They were calm, glowing in his dark face with power and promise.
She couldn't speak. The words felt locked in her throat, the power to pull them free lacking inside her. He stared at her as though he truly adored her, as though she was perhaps perfect, beautiful, a woman well worth desiring.
No man had ever stared at her in such a manner before. No man had ever made her feel as though she was the center of his hunger, and only she could relieve it.
Jonas rose to his knees then, picked the baby up and straightened before moving across the living room to the smaller crib, which he must have placed there while she was showering.
Rachel closed the bedroom door and stepped into the living room.
He was putting the baby closer to them so they could hear her from his room, separated by the open fireplace. Private, yet accessible should Amber need them.
"I thought you would want to hear her if she fussed tonight." He laid Amber in the crib so she could continue to watch the flames, before drawing a light blanket decorated with tiny pink teddy bears over her tiny body.
"I don't understand this," she whispered as she paused before the fireplace and watched as he turned back to her. "And I'm frightened of it."
"Frightened of what?" He moved to her, his long legs eating the distance despite the fact that he was moving slowly. "What's there to be frightened of, sweetheart? More pleasure than you can imagine? A man who would die for you?"
Things women swore they would die for. It wasn't the love, or the devotion, that frightened her, though.
"Of the mating heat." She swallowed tightly. "I don't like not having control, Jonas. I don't know how to live and not be certain of what tomorrow will bring, or how not to control what my own destiny is."
"Did you know what tomorrow would bring when you were with Marshal? And sweetheart, I hate to tell you this, but you have all the control," he told her softly, his hands moving to her shoulders, his fingers caressing the flesh revealed by the loose neckline of the gown. "Whatever you want, I'm here to provide, Rachel," he promised. "Whatever keeps you safe, happy and in my arms, I'm here to give you. Just tell me what you want."
His head lowered, but he didn't kiss her lips. He didn't share the mating hormone that Ely had stated made each breath torturous, the hunger was so intense. Instead, his lips touched the skin just below her ear, where sensations were magnified, where heat built and spread along her nerve endings like wildfire.
Rachel felt her lashes drifting closed as sensual weakness and an emotional overload assailed her. What he did to her, she could barely make sense of. He could break her heart, he could make her want to shoot him, but through it all, she didn't want to miss this chance.
"What are you doing?" Breathing was becoming harder by the second as she felt arousal burning through her, marking her with the need for his touch.
His lips were warm velvet, his tongue, with its slight rasp, a heated roughness that had her eyes closing and her knees weakening, and the hunger to feel more, to feel all of him, nearly overwhelmed her.