Authors: Lora Leigh
She swallowed tightly, her fingers shaking, trembling as she moved to do as he ordered as quickly as possible. She needed him; her pussy burned, hurt. Her tongue throbbed. Every cell in her flamed in demand.
Her fingers were shaking so bad she could barely fit the disk over the bulging, damp head.
“I can’t.” It slipped, moved, slid. She couldn’t make her fingers work.
“Put the damned thing on, Harmony.” His body jerked, shuddered.
“Fuck it.” She threw the condom, lifted her hips until the swollen head pressed against the entrance to her cunt. “Fuck me. I told you, you don’t need the son of a bit—”
The invasion—it could be called nothing else, an impalement, a penetration that tore through her, stretched her and destroyed her.
Harmony heard herself screaming his name. Her legs wrapped around his plunging hips, her lips opened for his, her tongue battling his the moment they touched.
She was filled to her limit, the tearing pleasure whipping through her, overloading her senses until nothing mattered, no one mattered, the world dissolved until nothing existed but Lance. His touch. His kiss, feeling the jackhammer strokes of his cock powering inside her pussy as her tongue filled his mouth, the taste of wild honey, of spice, an aphrodisiac that heightened each sensation and sent her careening into ecstasy.
Her body jerked violently as the next orgasm ripped through her. She bucked, shuddered, fighting to scream, but only a whimper emerged as he tore his lips from hers. A strangled male cry filled the air then, followed quickly by the strangest, most terrifying sensation she had ever known.
She cried out at the feel of his semen rushing through her, seeping into the very pores of the spasming flesh, easing the flaming lust, soaking into her womb.
She felt it. Felt each heated pulse of semen fill her, change her, complete her just before her teeth sank into his shoulder and she tasted his blood. And in that moment sensed her own defeat.
CHAPTER 3
Lance was enraged. The next morning he paced his office, scowling, his body burning as his cock throbbed in his jeans and the bite at his shoulder burned in need.
Son of a bitch. A fucking Breed. He became aware of what she was the moment those sharp little teeth of hers pierced his flesh. He had seen the mark on his cousin Megan’s shoulder nearly a year before. Placed there by her mate, Braden Arness.
“I can’t find anyone that meets your description in the database, Lance.” Braden growled in irritation.
“Now look, dammit, I know she’s a Breed,” Lance snapped. “She has to be in there.”
“Lance, I’ve been searching these damned files for an hour now. She’s not in here. What the hell is this about?”
Lance drew in a hard breath.
“The bitch bit me last night, Braden,” he finally snarled. “I picked her up at the bar and took her home.”
“You had sex with her, and she bit you?” Braden’s voice was carefully bland. “What did you say her name was again?”
“Harmony. She didn’t give me a last name. Russet hair, pale green eyes, about five-seven.”
“Any tattoos or distinguishing marks?” Braden asked.
Lance frowned. He barely remembered a small tattoo.
“Her right shoulder, I can’t be sure, but I think it was a scythe.”
Silence filled the line as the air around him whispered in warning.
“Are you certain of that? A scythe.”
“A red scythe, no more than an inch and a half high. I saw it just before she jerked her shirt on. By the time she turned around with the fucking gun in her hand, I forgot about it.”
She had held a gun on him. A small, snub-nosed though powerful military-issue Beretta. And those babies packed a wallop, despite their size.
“Damn. That’s bad.” Braden’s voice was suddenly deeper; the animalistic growl of his Breed heritage only showed itself in times of anger or stress.
“The Breed part or the scythe part?” Lance asked. “You have to be a bit clearer here, Braden. My mind’s not exactly working at its normal speed.”
And he knew why. He knew and it pissed him off. God help her if he got his hands on her again. The first thing he was going to do was spank that pretty ass for running. The second thing he would do was fuck her until she didn’t have the strength to run again.
“According to my files, the Breed with that mark is one badass you don’t want to mess with. We call her by her lab name, because she never chose another that we knew of. Her name is Death, Lance. She’s wanted not just by the Bureau of Breed Affairs but by several government agencies as well, for questioning in the assassinations of suspected child abusers as well as suspected Council scientists. If Death mated you, cuz, then you’re screwed.”
The woman in his arms had been no killer. “There has to be a mistake.”
“No mistake,” Braden said in denial. “No other Breed would dare wear that mark. Death is a possessive bitch. She’s a class A assassin with the added rating of knifemanship. Death doesn’t feel, Lance. And how the hell you could have mated with her makes no sense.”
Because every instance of mating heat that had occurred in the Breed society had involved emotion. To their knowledge there hadn’t been a mating that hadn’t been a match of not just the physical, but the psychological and emotional as well. Lance knew that from the few explanations Megan had given him in regards to her relationship with Braden.
“Then there’s a mistake,” Lance grated out. “Is there a description on this ‘Death’?”
“Oh yeah,” Braden sighed. “The description of her hair was throwing me off. Her hair is the color of a true lion’s mane rather than just a similarity. Eye color pale green. Height five-seven, age twenty-five. She escaped the labs at fifteen after killing every scientist in the facility. Including her own mother.”
The air began to wail at his ear.
“There’s a notation here that an op went out a few weeks ago to a suspected sighting, but no update.”
“Get me her file. I want the complete dossier on her, and see what else you can find out. I’m taking the day off and going looking for her myself.”
“Whoa, hold up there, man,” Braden protested furiously. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? This woman is one of the most lethal killers in our ranks. She hunts Coyotes for fun, Lance. And she kills them. She’ll take you out if she even thinks you’re going to get close.”
“According to you, the mating heat goes both ways, right?” Lance reminded him.
“As far as I know. According to all the reports the Bureau has listed of mated pairs, it’s always a two-way street.”
“Then she’s likely in no better shape than I am,” Lance pointed out.
Braden sighed. “
If
the mating went both ways, she’s likely in worse shape,” he growled. “
If
, Lance. That’s a hell of a supposition though. From what I’m seeing on the database here, this woman has no soul. You could just be swimming in hell by yourself.”
“Not hardly.” Lance raked his fingers through his hair, grimacing at the memory of her face, her eyes, before she left. “It has her too, Braden. I’d bet my life on it.”
“Which is exactly what you are betting.” Braden breathed out roughly. “Give me an hour. Wait there on me and I’ll go out with you. You’ll need backup on this one, Lance, and I don’t want Megan anywhere near her. She still hasn’t recovered from the search we did for her.”
“What search?” Lance clenched his teeth at that information.
“After leaving Sanctuary last year, our first mission was to locate Death. We thought we were getting close, then she just disappeared.”
“Where is Megan?” She would tell him. She wouldn’t hide information she knew he would need.
“Megan flew back to Sanctuary this morning to pick up one of the new girls we’re training here at the ranch. She won’t be back till morning.”
Now, wasn’t that just perfect timing?
Lance stared out into the park, watching as the breeze swayed in the trees, the low psychic moan he heard whispering around him, a warning and plea.
“I’m heading out in an hour,” he finally said and sighed roughly. “Get over here if you’re going with me. I don’t have all day.”
Because if he didn’t get Harmony beneath him again, he was going to explode with the lust ripping through him.
“I’m getting everything together now. I’ll see you in an hour.” The line disconnected as Lance jerked the phone link from his ear and tossed it to his desk.
Just what the fuck he needed, he scowled. H. R. Alonzo, one of the most virulent opponents of the Breeds, was already protesting city hall over the Breeds training at Megan’s ranch, and members of the Blood Purity Society were streaming in. Journalists were camped out at the hotels, and the situation was rapidly escalating from a headache to a problem.
He sure as hell didn’t need this added complication. And the moment he got his hands on Harmony again, he intended to make his displeasure known. In a variety ways. All of them guaranteed to make her come.
———
Harmony was barely ready when Jonas and the Breed lawyer arrived at her hotel room late that morning. She hadn’t slept, and makeup wasn’t covering the results of that well. And she was in pain. Physical, aching pain from the arousal building within her.
Since when did a lack of screwing actually hurt?
Dressed in the soft black cotton uniform of a Breed Enforcer, she adjusted her utility belt at her hips and made certain her gun was comfortably holstered. Her knife was strapped to her opposite thigh, and tucked into her right ankle boot was a secondary dagger. The clothes were driving her crazy though.
The rasp of the material against her flesh was an irritation she wondered if she would survive. And she was hot. She felt as though she were burning alive from the inside out.
Her womb sizzled with need; her pussy was so wet she had given up attempting to stem the slick juices that kept her prepared for penetration, and just thanked God that it wasn’t seeping through her clothing.
When she opened the door to Jonas, she avoided his eyes and stepped into the hall, slamming the door behind her. At his side, J. R. “Jess” Warden, the Bureau’s attorney, watched her with a glimmer of surprise in her eyes.
“Let’s get it the hell over with,” she snapped as she started down the hall. “Have you informed your sheriff yet of who he’s being saddled with?”
“Did you sleep well last night, Harmony?” His voice was taunting as he finally began walking to her, his nostrils flaring as her eyes narrowed on him.
The bastard. He knew. Whatever was wrong with her he could smell it.
“I slept fine, Jonas,” she purred menacingly as she glanced at Jess, then back to him. “And you?”
His lips quirked, though the smug confidence was held firmly in place.
“I slept quite well.” He moved slowly ahead of her. “You seem agitated this morning. Is something wrong?”
She was tempted to snarl, but restrained the urge. “Just your normal Breed psychosis,” she retorted disdainfully, repeating the psychologist’s profile Jonas had ordered before she left for Broken Butte.
As though her fondness for shedding blood had anything to do with her genetics. The lives she had taken after escape never weighed on her conscience. The monsters she had taken out were a disease. The world was better off with them dead.
No, it was the lives she had taken before her escape that haunted her nightmares. It was those that left her gasping for breath, a plea on her lips as she fought to escape the horrors that visited her. Harmony wasn’t still alive because she loved life. Nor was she still here for vengeance. She lived because she knew hell awaited her after death.
Entering the elevator behind Jonas, Harmony turned to face the doors, ignoring the looks her brother cast her. Jonas Wyatt, they called him. She had called him Alpha One. The leader of the small contingent of Lion Breeds at the French Labs wherein they had been created.
Even though he had been younger than several of the other Breeds there, his strength and natural dominance had assured his steady rise within the ranks. He had been created as a breeder for a few specially created females, a last attempt to see if they could create the soldier they were searching for through other means. Instead, Jonas had grown to excel in areas the head scientist, Madame LaRue, had never expected.
Deceptive, powerful, completely logical and coldhearted, Jonas had taken control of the other males from the time he reached his maturity. He manipulated them, maneuvered them and always managed to get the best out of them.
Harmony stared up at the ceiling patiently.
“Sheriff Jacobs will be your representative,” Jonas informed her as the doors opened and they stepped out into the lobby, the attorney trailing behind them. “You’ll live in his home, under his guidance for the time you’ll be here. He’ll report to the Bureau once a week on your progress. He’s a fairly responsible individual. I’m certain I won’t have to worry about him.”
Harmony kept her pace steady as she moved along with him, tempering her opinion on his orders.
She had no idea what Jonas’s game was, or how he hoped to accomplish his goals by sticking her in this little tourist trap, but she was certain she would figure it out. One thing she did know, she was not about to turn over the one thing she suspected he was after: the information she had hidden on the first Leo, the first Breed created and still living— information she had stolen when she escaped the labs.
“Are you listening to me, Harmony?” he finally asked as they stepped into the sunlit courtyard at the entrance to the hotel and he slid his dark glasses over his eyes.
“I heard you, Jonas.” She smiled back coolly, reminding herself, forcefully, that she couldn’t kill him. Well, she could. It would be a fight, but technically, it could be arranged. But she was fairly certain that doing so wasn’t in her best interests at the moment.
He smiled, flashing his dominant canines threateningly. Drama just seemed to go hand in hand with the Breeds these days. She remembered a time when they kept their opinions to themselves and just killed. Rather like she did. The threatening thing just seemed useless to her.
“I think you’re going to like Sheriff Jacobs.” He finally nodded to the courthouse and Sheriff’s Department on the other side of the small park they were crossing the street to. “Several of the Breed females consider him quite handsome.”