1

SIX YEARS LATER

WINDOW ROCK, ARIZONA

This was a very bad idea. She knew it was a bad idea, but she was still here, and she was still doing it. She stopped at the door of the suite she had been directed to, slid the security card into place, then pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The smell of cigar smoke reached her senses the moment Cassie entered the room at the Navajo Suites where she’d been told to meet the Breed she now owed one hell of a debt to. The scent of the tobacco, rather than acrid and distasteful, was a bit mellow, soothing. Rather like those she’d known other Breeds to indulge in.

That was at least something familiar, something not so disconcerting as the decision she’d made to come here.

God, she didn’t even know his name. All she knew was the number she’d been left six years ago and the message that accompanied it. You were beautiful in the moonlight, little halfling. If you need me, call. But there will always be a price to pay, the note had read.

And she had made the call often over the years, though she was never certain why she could trust him so easily. The price had begun small, but with each call made it had grown steadily. Still, she had enjoyed the game.

Until now.

But hadn’t she known it would eventually come to this?

What woman agreed to sleep with a man whose name she didn’t even know? Whose face she’d never seen?

A crazy woman, that was who. Or a very desperate one.

She closed the door behind her softly, set the lock and stared to the opened balcony doors where the shadow of a large, powerful Breed stood. The tip of a slim cigar brightened as he inhaled, then dimmed, clenched between strong white teeth as they flashed in a brief smile.

A Coyote’s smile.

“Didn’t expect you to keep your word,” he said, his voice quiet, deep, as he lifted one hand to remove the cylinder of pressed tobacco.

A second later it was tossed over the balcony railing, its fiery point of light disappearing as it fell to earth.

“You did as I asked.” She shrugged. “My sister’s safe.”

God, if only she had known sooner that her twin, Kenzi had been taken. She was supposed to be safe. And she’d learned too late, sensed the danger her sister was in after she was taken rather than before.

The gift she had been cursed with as a child had all but deserted her now, in her twenties. When she most needed it. When it could actually help her rather than tear her apart. And this time it had almost come too late to ensure their safety.

She was safe now, though. Cassie had heard the report that Kenzi was in Breed hands. The moment it had been announced Kenzi had been found, Cassie had slipped from the Bureau of Breed Affairs apartments to meet her savior as he’d directed her.

“Didn’t mean you’d show up,” he pointed out laconically. “It’s not as though I could sue for breach of agreement.”

He was right, so why had she shown up?

She could have ignored their bargain once Kenzi was safe. But he’d never, in all these years, broken his word to her. No matter how dangerous her requests, no matter how difficult, he’d always come through for her.

As he said, he couldn’t sue her. There would have been nothing he could have done if she had chosen to ignore the deal she had made with him. It was just that somehow, it had seemed rather wrong to do so.

“I don’t break my word,” she finally answered him. “You should know that by now.”

A mocking chuckle filled the room.

“Know what I think?” he said then, turning to face her as he slid the balcony door closed. The blinds closed automatically behind him.

“Does it matter?” She was certain she didn’t want to know what he thought.

“Oh, I think it matters,” he answered, his voice low. “I think it matters very much.”

“Are we here to talk or finish the bargain?” No, she didn’t want to know what he thought; she wanted to get this the hell over with and get back to the Bureau offices, where she was safe.

Where this Breed couldn’t find her.

Stepping to the small table beside the couch, he flipped on a low light, though neither of them really needed it. She would have preferred he left the light off.

If he had, then she couldn’t have seen his features in such stark display, and breathtaking savagery.

He shouldn’t be so handsome, was her first thought. Her second? He was dangerous. One of the most dangerous Breeds she’d ever glimpsed.

She could see it in the hard, savage lines of his face, the piercing gray eyes, the tall, corded strength of his body.

He was one of the most powerful Breeds she’d ever sensed in her life. Not just physically, but in that inner core of strength. And this man’s core of strength had no end.

It went deeper than her father’s, deeper than Jonas’s, and that was saying something. It possibly went even deeper than her own, and that was terrifying.

Shaggy dark blond hair fell around a broad forehead, darker lashes surrounded steel gray eyes, and a strong, powerful chin assured her that he wouldn’t be just determined, but arrogant as hell with it.

His lips quirked into a mocking grin. Just a hint of a smile, one that assured her that she wasn’t the only one with finely adapted senses. Her Breed instincts bristled, heated, parts of her demanding she challenge him while other parts wanted only to submit.

“Curious, aren’t you?” The slight growl to his voice had an unbidden chill racing down her spine. “The Breed princess wants to see what it’s like to get down and dirty for a change?”

Her eyes narrowed. Breed princess?

“Haven’t heard that little nickname yet?” He chuckled.

Oh, she’d heard it often, actually.

Moving to the bar across the room, he poured two glasses half full of liquor. Picking the glasses up, he walked unhurriedly to where she stood and extended one to her.

“The perfect little Breed,” he said as she accepted the drink. “Able to argue Breed Law with a charm that can convince the Council to separate mates and human lawyers to allow a human child to be taken from its father. The Breed with a siren’s voice.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she snapped. “Not everyone knows the laws that rule our people, or understands them …”

“As I said, very intelligent.” He toasted her with his drink before tossing it back. “With a siren’s voice.”

Sipping the liquor, she watched him carefully.

Siren’s voice her ass.

She knew Breed Law and she knew how to argue it. It was that simple.

“What does Breed Law have to do with this … ?”

“Do you know when the media mentions you, they simply call you a Wolf Breed? All those little mutant Coyote genetics you possess seem to be forgotten.”

Her heart was racing; how unusual. Her breathing was elevated, and she swore she felt flushed. She didn’t want to talk about her genetics or anything else. She wanted this done. Finished.

“We’re not here to discuss me or the media …”

“You made a deal with a Coyote, little halfling,” he drawled, his expression somber despite the mockery in his gaze. “You’ve been aware of that. Right?”

If she hadn’t been before, she sure as hell became aware of it the moment she stepped through the door.

“I’m aware.” She was a Breed after all; she could smell the Coyote on him … though it was faint. “I’ve known all along what you were.”

The scent was subtle though, as though something covered it.

“Are you wearing a scent blocker?” Tilting her head to the side, she watched him carefully, drawing the scent in deeper.

“It may be wearing off.” He moved back to the bar, poured another drink and tossed it back. “And you’re right; we came here to finish a bargain.”

He finished the drink, and before she could do more than flinch, he slapped the glass to the bar, took two steps and managed to snag her waist with one strong arm and jerk her to him.

“Now, let’s see, what was the deal?” That was a definite growl, a spark of anger in his gaze. “No kissing.” His thumb brushed against her lips. “I can’t eat what is no doubt a sweet little pussy. And I can’t come inside you. Are those the rules?”

Why the hell was her heart racing out of control and why did she suddenly want his kiss as she had never wanted anything in her life? Wanted his kiss everywhere.

She was crazy. This was beyond desperate.

“Those are the rules.”

Something hot, hungry, flared in his expression. It tightened, his cheekbones becoming more pronounced as his lashes lowered over his eyes.

“Other than that, it’s whatever I want?” he asked, his tone curious, but there was nothing curious in his gaze or his expression. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

She licked her suddenly dry lips; nerves and fear of the unknown had to be the reasons why she was just a little bit light-headed and fighting for breath.

“Just for tonight,” she agreed. “I leave before dawn.”

Something akin to regret flashed in his face.

“Four hours,” he murmured. “Then we better get started. You have a lot to learn in those hours.”

A lot to learn …

She was not going to tremble or shake with nerves, she told herself. Show no weakness. Never let anyone see you weak. No one. Especially a Coyote.

When he caught her hand, she was proud to say it wasn’t damp and her fingers didn’t tremble. She kept her head high, her expression serene. She’d learned over the years how to do that. How to hold back the fear, uncertainty and nerves under trying conditions.

Not that she’d ever been in this particular situation before, and as he led her past the living suite and into the bedroom, she nearly lost her nerve.

The bed was turned down invitingly, pillows lying flat, waiting for a body to lie within it, and there were candles. Three lit candles.

The door closed behind them, almost silently; still, it was all she could do to control her flinch.

He dropped her hand immediately. “Go home, princess.” Disgust edged his voice as he flashed her a look of scorn. “Consider tonight’s work a freebie.”

Anger. She could feel it inside him. It wasn’t rolling off him in waves; it came out as mocking unconcern, but it was there all the same.

She’d made the deal. Her sisters were safe, and she’d come this far. If she backed out now, she’d never regain her courage. And he might never be there to help her again.

She reached behind her and released the small catch on her skirt, then slid the zipper down. The sound was a quiet hiss in the otherwise still room. Staring at him, she let the material drop, leaving her clad only in the camisole, vest and high-cut black lace panties.

With a shrug of her shoulders she released the vest.

“I’m a virgin,” she whispered, refusing to drop her gaze or show any shame. “If you’re looking for experience, or for me to know how to please you, then that isn’t going to happen.”

She pulled the camisole over her head slowly, slid it free of the long length of her hair and dropped it to the floor, then stepped from the four-inch heels she wore.

And he didn’t speak. Not a single word. He watched her, still and silent, but the scent of male lust suddenly filling the room was unmistakable.

Then, with the same unhurried movements, he sat down and pulled his boots free of his feet. Then, rising once again, he pulled the shirt from his pants and began unbuttoning it.

She didn’t know his name, and for a moment, she wished she did.

Then he was shrugging the shirt free, revealing the depth of strength in his body, in the play of muscles beneath dark bronze flesh. Strong biceps, wide shoulders and chest, tight, hard abs.

Slowly, he released the wide leather belt that cinched his hips and worked free the button and zipper of the dun-colored pants he wore.

Fear.

Uncertainty.

What was she thinking?

She’d never done this before so she couldn’t even guess. She didn’t know how to do this.

She was standing naked but the for the panties that hid the genetic mark of the Coyote just below her womb, in front of this Breed. A Coyote …

Swallowing tightly she hooked her fingers in the band of black lace and lowered them, forcing herself to slide them over her thighs before letting them fall to the floor. His gaze touched the hardened points of her nipples, then lowered to that mark. The faint lines, in the form of jagged scars, shadowed her flesh and had the scent of male lust spiking in the womb.

Rather than removing his pants as his need increased, he stepped to her, calloused fingers touching her cheek before cupping it gently.

He was warm. So warm.

“No kisses,” he whispered. “But you didn’t rule out this.”

As he spoke, he swung her up in his arms, sweeping her from the floor and striding to the bed, where he laid her in the middle of the mattress. Lying down beside her, his head lowered, but he kept his word. He didn’t kiss her lips.

What he did was even more maddening, more erotic. His lips touched the corner of hers; just the tip of his tongue edged at it before his lips moved to her neck, his tongue taking little tastes of her flesh as her breathing accelerated.

Because it felt good. So damned good.

One hand twined in her hair, gripping the curls and pulling just enough that the slight sensation was a merging of erotic and the edge of pain. And she liked it. Dark need and that restless, shadowed force inside her merged, clawing at her, demanding she take what was hers.

“There, little halfling,” he whispered as his lips moved to her neck, smoothing over her flesh as his tongue, ah mercy, his teeth, awakened nerve endings she didn’t know she had.

Before she knew it, her hands were on his shoulders as he rose over her, then in his hair, sliding through the cool strands, clenching in them as she arched to him. And she tried to make sense of the sensations racing through her.

The rush of heat that engulfed her body, the pinching tightness of her nipples, the warmth growing between her thighs. The ache centering in her clit as she felt her juices flowing from her sex and the demand building in her that she let go, give in, that she free the hunger raging through her.

“Feel good?” he whispered as his lips kissed slowly lower, moving for the heaving flesh of her breasts.

“Feels good.” She didn’t even sound like herself.

Why did he care if it felt good?

“You taste like heaven.” The rasp of his voice was deeper, more animalistic. “Son of a bitch, love, you taste good.”

Sensation was overtaking her, pleasure like she hadn’t expected, couldn’t have anticipated.

“Oh God. Yes …” she couldn’t hold back her moan as his lips covered a sensitized nipple, drawing it into his mouth, sucking with firm, hungry draws of his lips, licking it, rasping nerve endings with such pleasure.

She arched into the sensations, her eyes closing, though she wanted to hold them open. The heat was building, sensation upon sensation as he moved from one engorged peak to the other. She wanted to be closer …

She wanted his kiss.

Her head twisted against the pillow as he slid one hand down her side to her thighs, then settled between them, covering the slick folds he found there with his broad palm.

It wasn’t supposed to feel good. Not this good. She could feel the perspiration gathering on her skin, hear her own moans as she felt him working his pants free of his thighs.

His lips were still at her breast, sucking, his tongue abrading her nipple. His hand moved from her sex, pushed her thighs apart, and then he was kneeling between them. With one hand he clasped her hip, his lips moving from her breast to her neck.

She felt the crest of his shaft, broad, throbbing as it pressed against the entrance between her thighs. So hot, pressing inside her, opening her, stretching her …

Each hard, pulsing throb was followed by heated pleasure, like a rush of liquid fire filling her, easing her, amplifying the sensations.

She arched to him, knowing she shouldn’t, knowing there was something she should remember; something wasn’t right. Then he was pushing inside her, pleasure and pain merging, white-hot in its intensity, tearing through her as the short strokes inside her vagina tore through her virginity, lengthened, became quicker, harder, burying him inside her fully.

She could feel the hard throb of his cock, followed by a sense of heat and incredible pleasure.

She couldn’t halt the cries falling from her lips, couldn’t stop the whirlwind of sensations obliterating everything but the pleasure. With a sense of disbelief, she realized she’d completely lost control; then even that thought was torn aside as he began moving inside her.

Each thrust was followed by the sweet, burning trail of heat, the clenching of her vagina and a rush of liquid pleasure falling from her. Her hips lifted as she fought for more, deeper, harder.

She could hear him whispering against her shoulder, his lips and tongue caressing, teeth scraping as the thrusts became faster, rhythmic, pushing her into a storm she could feeling racing out of control inside her own body.

Her nails dug into his shoulders as each stroke of his cock pushed her deeper, as the pleasure, so extreme, so brutal it bordered on pain, began tightening inside her. Pushing her, clenching in her sex, her clit, bands of pleasure and pain until she felt her orgasm imploding, destroying …

His teeth sank in her shoulder. Wicked, sharp and curved as she felt him thickening impossibly inside her, stretching her inner muscles further, pushing her orgasm higher even as a sense of horror tore through her.

He was locked inside her. Releasing, ejaculating inside her because he couldn’t pull free of her clamping muscles as the mating knot pulsed inside her.

She was crying out her pleasure even as she felt her tears falling. Reveling in the sensation of his teeth buried at her shoulder, his tongue laving the wound, his cock spilling his release.

Physically, nothing could ever be so good. It was the most intense, most incredible pleasure, and it was destroying her.

From the inside out, it was destroying her.

His teeth released her, his head lifted slowly. “Well, fuck, guess the rules don’t apply now …” And his lips were on hers, hard, hungry … addictive.

No, the rules didn’t apply, but the destruction sure as hell would.

• • •

This wasn’t happening.

A rarely felt, overwhelming panic began to invade Cassie’s senses once she’d regained them again, threatening to rip away the logic and careful thought she normally approached all problems with. It was rising by the second, tearing through her and beginning to exacerbate the fear that the knowledge of a mating had brought.

This had just slipped past anything even remotely resembling fear. She realized in that moment that she could have handled a mate after all. A Wolf Breed mate, a feline Breed, hell, a reptile Breed or a human mate.

She could have handled a mate.

She couldn’t handle this.

“Breathe, Cassie,” he whispered, those strong arms she’d once longed to feel around her enclosing her like iron. Like a prison. A cell from which there was no escape. “It’s okay, baby, just breathe.”

Baby.

Just breathe.

She heard the words; she didn’t respond, didn’t react. She stared at the wall across from her, focused on it, tried to push back the fear and …

Rage.

It clawed at her, mixed with the panic, with the overwhelming sense of helpless confusion. It burned inside her chest like a viciously hot poker, stabbing at her over and over again.

“You lied to me.” The words escaped despite the tightness of her throat and the feeling that she was strangling on her emotions. “You lied to me. You assured me we couldn’t be mates.”

Mates weren’t supposed to ever lie to each other. She had never lied to him. She had always been completely honest with him. Always.

She hadn’t even considered that he could be her mate. He was her partner in adventure since those few moments they’d spent in an island atrium, albeit mostly through messages. One didn’t lie to one’s partner.

Those strong arms slid away from her, but that feeling of imprisonment didn’t recede. It couldn’t recede. There was no escaping.

She hurt now in every molecule of her body. The pain resonating with blistering intensity.

His scent followed her.

Sitting on the side of the bed, she propped her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands. She wanted to rock into herself, scream and rage and claw at his face with her nails. She wanted to give in to the demented pain rising inside her and show him the lethal, killing instinct that had been bred into her. The one she held inside, always hidden, restrained.

“Well, little halfling, you must admit you suspected it; other- wise, you’d have never made up those ridiculous rules,” he said with a grunt, as though that excused him.

Mocking amusement was a trademark she’d always sensed, yet until now, he’d never turned it on her.

What was she going to do?

She couldn’t deal with this!

She had to run, to leave …

Yet even now the despised reaction of her body to the Mating Heat was already building again, sensitizing her, forcing her to fight herself, to fight the steady increase of the hormones now racing through her.

She wanted him again. Wanted his flesh throbbing between her lips, wanted his tongue burrowing inside her sex, spreading more of that sickening hormone.

Her hand clamped over her mouth as she felt her womb tightening, demanding his release, demanding he flood her body with his semen again.

She jerked to her feet, only distantly aware of him moving from the bed, but all too aware of the fact that he was aroused, erect and ready to give her body exactly what it was beginning to burn for.

For a moment, all she could do was ache for her mother, her father. Ache to beg them to fix this as they had so many other things in her life. To smooth it over, to make it better, to help her find a way out.

And there was no way out. She knew there was no way out.

“Should I take you again, mate?” There was an edge to his voice that sliced at her, that dug into her chest and made the pain brighter, more intense. “Shall I just bend you over the bed and push inside you? Ride you hard and fast until I knot you and give your body what it needs? Just stay behind you so you don’t have to see the Breed you mated?”

Cassie jerked, barely holding back a cry rising unbidden to her lips as her sex spilled its liquid heat and her stomach rippled with the clenching of her womb, with the need, the hunger.

Yes, that was what she wanted, she screamed silently, agony tearing through her. Take her like the animal she now knew lurked inside her.

A low, male chuckle followed her as she shook her head and headed for the shower. She had to think. She had to figure out what to do.

“Cassandra …”

“Cassie …” She corrected him almost automatically, feeling so dazed, so off-balance and filled with violence that keeping the explosion of pure murderous fury contained was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

“What?” Clipped and short, his voice raked over her senses, stroking her like a physical caress as she felt her sheath clench, felt more of the hot, silky wetness spill from her.

“Cassie,” she had to force herself to answer. “My name is Cassie.”

She was Cassie Colder. She wasn’t Cassandra Sinclair, no matter how desperately she wanted to be, how hard her mother and father—her stepfather—had worked to give her that illusion. She wasn’t Wolf Breed. She wasn’t Dash Sinclair’s incredible, amazing, intelligent daughter. She was Daniel “Dane” Colder’s science experiment. The dirty little animal he’d helped create.

“I need a shower,” she whispered. She needed to think. To turn back time.

“A shower won’t wash my scent from you.” It sounded like a promise. A warning.

“Guess we’ll find out …” Straightening, she’d almost taken that first step when she felt herself jerked around, her mate towering over her, glaring down at her, his gray eyes like thunderclouds as a warning growl left his throat.

That sound was the trigger.

It ripped through her, exploded through her mind and tore aside that veil of civility she was always so certain she possessed.

“Don’t push me, Cassie,” he snarled in her face, his head lowering, almost nose to nose with her.

Lifting to her tiptoes, she bit him. Her teeth snapped at the thin line of his lips, and she tasted blood, tasted that hormone and lost control of the low, warning growl that left her own throat as she jerked back.

One hand latched into the hair at the back of his head, the other gripped the thick, throbbing stalk of flesh that extended like iron from between his thighs. Jerking at his hair, she pulled his head down to get her fix. To pull in the hormone spilling from the glands beneath his tongue and allow the creature inside her to fully awaken.

The kiss was like a sensual explosion. It imploded inside her senses, laid waste to logic, to common sense, to the dreams, the hopes, the certainty she could overcome what she’d been created to be.

His tongue pumped between her lips as she licked at it desperately, allowed it to duel with hers, to spill the mating poison, to rush through her senses and jerk her on that wild, furious ride once again.

Long minutes later, dazed, drugged with the sensual heat, she pulled her head back. Retaining her grip on his hair, she met the challenge in those wild gray eyes and the less-than-perfect features. As she stared up at him, one broad, calloused palm cupped her breast; his fingers gripped her nipple, tightened, and her head slammed back against the wall.

The sensations were terrible; they were exquisite. Agony and ecstasy slamming into the hard tip before ripping a line of sizzling electric heat straight to her pussy.

“Again.” Her voice was strangled. “Do it again.”

Easing the pressure, he did it again, this time harder, dragging a demented cry from her lips as his other hand slid between her damp thighs.

Damp because the slick moisture was weeping from her, spilling from the swollen lips between her thighs to the fingers now tucking between the folds to catch the silken heat.

“Come here, mate.” Releasing her nipple and the desperately aching flesh between her thighs, he lifted her to him, turned and sat her on the top of the tall table.

Still gripping his hair, she jerked his head to her breasts, her breathing hard, heavy, her chest tight with the screams she was holding in, the denials she so desperately wanted to give voice to.

“Suck my nipple,” she demanded, pushing one enflamed tip to his lips. “Hard. Like you gripped it. Do it.”

She watched him. Their gazes locked as he snarled, then gripped the tip between his teeth and applied the painful, ecstatic pressure she needed.

White, strong teeth, curved canines at the side, a brutal snarl of lust on his lips.

His hands gripped her legs beneath her knees, jerked them up and forced her feet to the top of the table. With his teeth gripping her nipple, his tongue lashing it, his hand moved between her spread thighs. A second later a long, agonized sound of keening pleasure escaped her lips.

Two fingers pushed inside her, hard, deep. There were no preliminaries, no warning, just the sudden fullness and a firestorm of sensation tearing through her.

Her hips jerked, then bore down on the fingers as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, devouring first one, then the other. Lips, teeth, tongue, suckling pressure and mind-consuming ecstasy. She didn’t have to think here. She didn’t have to consider what she was, what he’d turned her into.

“That’s it,” he snarled, lifting his lips as she fought to drive herself on his fingers. “Ride my fingers, mate. Look.” He lifted enough to stare down their bodies, to watch her hips, to see the penetration of her body as she ground herself onto his palm. “Greedy baby. How much do you want? How much before you beg me to stop?”

Beg him to stop? She could take anything, everything he wanted to dish out.

“Go to hell,” she cried out, but she couldn’t help but watch as her hips pulled back, revealing the heavy layer of thick juices that clung to his fingers, before she slammed onto his fingers again, burying them inside her.

She froze for only a second. Before she could halt the downward thrust he added a third finger and pushed inside her, even as she slammed her hips onto the penetration. She could feel her muscles clenching around the invasion, rippling with involuntary spasms.

“Enough?” She hated the challenge in his voice. Hated it. “Or more?”

His fingers curled, found a spot so sensitive, so explosively responsive, that she couldn’t hold back the climax that shot through her system. And it wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t enough. It only made her body hotter, made her senses more maddened.

“You bastard!” she cried out, her hands gripping his forearms, nails biting into his flesh.

Seconds later the thicker, hotter flesh of his shaft pressed against her, a hard spurt of hormonal pre-cum shooting inside her. His shaft parted flesh still highly sensitive, still clenching in pleasure, and slowly—oh God, so slowly—began parting her inner flesh, penetrating her, filling her until she was certain she could take no more even as the hormonal ejaculations continued.

Dragging her gaze from the penetration, she glared up at him. The hint of softening in his expression disappeared; the arrogance and challenge returned.

“Do it,” she snarled. “Fuck me and get it over with it. Go ahead you bastard Coyote. Do your worst.”

His worst. He destroyed her. Powerful, deep thrusts filled her, pushed inside her, stretched her with such exquisite pleasure she couldn’t help but hold on to him.

Stars exploded behind her tightly closed eyes and she sobbed in a mix of ecstasy and fear. Because she knew nothing, nothing, could ever be the same again.