The explosion that resulted had her gasping his name. Nothing had ever been like this. Nothing had burned with such heat, stroked with such pleasure, or exploded with such shattering results.
Jonas felt it. The clench, the fist-tight grip that only became snugger, hotter. The rush of liquid heat, the shudders that raced through her body.
The pulsing, suckling grip she had on his cock was too much. Pleasure conflagrated. A fiery storm of sensation tore up his spine, tightened in his abdomen and exploded in his balls.
Before he could stop the impulse, his teeth locked in that sweet, soft area of her shoulder. The sharp tips pierced the flesh, the iron-sharp taste of her blood exploding against his rapidly licking tongue.
As his release tore through him, the barb emerged from beneath the head of his cock, extended, locking him inside her milking pussy, and began to heat his entire body with the powerful, minute release that detonated inside it.
His body was a mass of ecstatic pleasure. Powerful, brutal, primal in its intensity, building and burning inside him until his head jerked back from her neck and a hard, strangled roar left his lips.
His mate.
His.
His gift. His life.
He had betrayed her the moment that he had allowed her kiss. In this second, now, spilling his seed inside her, he had the horrifying realization that without Rachel, without her touch, her laughter, her warmth, his life held no meaning.
With that thought came the understanding, the knowledge, that when morning came, he might lose her warmth as well as her laughter.
What woman would welcome being mated to a monster?
CHAPTER 17
Rachel awoke in Jonas's arms, her head cushioned on his chest as his fingers stroked along her spine. Fingers that lacked the lethal, strong claws they had displayed the night before.
She'd seen the dangerously tipped extensions before, but had never had the nerve to actually explore the long, broad fingers to find out if they worked as a cat's would. She had to admit though, the feel of them stroking down her thighs had sent arrows of sensual excitement shooting straight to the core of her sex.
Her gaze dropped to the strong, broad hand that lay across her bare stomach. Reaching down, she lifted his index finger, stroked it for a second, marveling at the strength of it. Did she dare, she wondered? She knew she didn't dare look at him as she did it. Biting her lip, she pressed firmly just beneath the broad, well-manicured nail and watched as the lethally strong claw emerged.
His entire hand flexed then, and slowly, each finger sported the well-manicured, lethally sharp tipped claws she had felt across her thighs the night before. Her lips quirked. Only Jonas would have his claws manicured and honed to dangerous points. When it came to the idea of Breeds being civilized, Jonas gave an Oscar-worthy performance.
He was silent as she ran her finger over the sharp tip, his silver eyes watching her with quiet intensity as she lifted her gaze back to him.
She wished she could decipher the emotions that roiled in his eyes. She wished she could understand why the sight of them bit at her heart with aching sadness.
"Can all Breeds do that?" she asked as she flicked the tip of a claw with her finger.
His head shook. "Only a primal."
"A primal? I haven't heard that designation before." She thought she had heard all of them.
The color in his eyes flickered momentarily. "It's a sub-designation and kept carefully quiet. Many Breeds aren't even aware we exist. We are truly the monsters of the species. Primals are bred to be less merciful and compassionate. Our animals are closer to the skin, you could say, and the human instinct for cruelty and egomania was bred to be uppermost in our human genetics."
"The perfect soldier," she murmured, remembering the news releases that had accompanied the Breed rescues.
"No, Breeds are the perfect soldiers," he amended. "Primals are the perfect killers. We were created to work best alone, to never be able to be a lover or a friend, and to kill that person on command, or as needed. We were created to have no heart, no mercy. And we were created to breed hybrids that were animals walking on two legs."
Something more flickered in his gaze then: apprehension, perhaps? Did he expect her to feel fear at this point? As far as she was concerned, it was a little too late for that. She was in his bed now, she was truly his mate. Fear at this late date would have been drama. And Rachel seriously didn't believe in drama.
"What happened with the breeding part?" Her heart was breaking at the knowledge that they were created to never love, to never laugh. What a weight it must be to know they had been created to destroy, to kill, and that the world knew why they had been created. So many hated and feared them for their very existence. They had no idea how much the Breeds regretted that reason as well.
A short, bitter laugh escaped his lips. "They could never get that part to work so well. For the most part, the scientists were unaware of the need for mating. But the groundwork was laid for the creatures they eventually wanted to produce, though."
The creatures, not the children. Rachel had to force back her tears at the words he used. Jonas wasn't much on sympathy. He preferred reality and honesty above all things. She'd heard him say once or twice that sympathy was an empty emotion for those who had no desire to expend the effort to actually fight against an injustice.
"It doesn't matter if it's human or animal," she said softly as she stared back at him. "I don't believe anyone is born or created to kill. It's taught to them. You can use all the genetics you want, but it comes down to what you teach your children. Just as it comes down to what that child wants to be once you've taught it all you know. The knowledge of right and wrong is inherent, Jonas. The Breeds have proven that."
She saw the indecision in his gaze then, or perhaps disbelief.
Lying in his arms, his body warm, hard, tense against her, she finally broached the subject that had bothered her the previous night.
Jonas and the Leo had such a conflicted relationship as it was, but last night, they had both been more on edge than normal.
"What is the issue with Leo? He's been picking at you for as long as I've worked for you, but he was worse last night."
"He's been picking far longer than you've been with me," he grunted.
"Why?"
"Who knows why the Leo does what he does, or what he hopes to achieve from it." There was genuine confusion in his expression. "He keeps pushing for something that he has no desire to explain, and I refuse to ask for that explanation. I'm simply the whelp I'm certain he wishes they hadn't created."
His tone was matter-of-fact, accepting, but Rachel saw the hint of betrayal in his eyes. Leo's attitude pricked at him, and who could blame him? The one dream the Breeds had was that of family. Leo was his father, yet he acted as though he were ashamed, or regretful, of Jonas's existence. His eyes told another story, though, Rachel thought. Like Jonas, the Leo's eyes roiled with emotions.
"You're stubborn," she stated.
"And he's a manipulative bastard," he growled.
"Like father, like son, perhaps?" she questioned him with a smile as she stretched lazily, feeling the tenderness that assailed her body, the proof that she had been well loved the night before.
"My genetics are far different from his," he retorted. "His provided a base, if you will. The scientists then added what they thought would create the animal they wanted. Leo's no primal, but he should have been created as one."
She almost laughed. Unfortunately, she had a feeling that laughter wouldn't go over so well right now.
"I hate to tell you this, Jonas, but you're not that far from your father in genetics," she informed him. "The two of you are more alike than he and Callan are. You even have several of your mother's physical traits, such as the shape of your eyes."