Zarifa looked up at him, uncertainty flaring in her beautiful eyes. “Mostly I want to get the hell out of the Empire. I’d never have anything like a normal life here. I’ve spent the past ten years as media fodder, and somehow I don’t think it’s going to stop just because I’m not empress anymore.”
To hell with tiptoeing around this, Rance thought, suddenly impatient. I’m just going to damn well ask. He caught her hands in his. They felt surprisingly cool, as if with nerves. “Come to the Freeworlds with me. I don’t know if you’d consider living with a werewolf a normal life, but…”
Violet eyes flew so wide, he could see his face reflected in them. “Are you sure? You’ve seen the way the media hound every move I make. Even relocating to the Freeworlds may not stop them. And they’ve got a talent for making my life a living hell.”
He bared his teeth. “Oh, I can safely say they wouldn’t try that more than once.”
Zarifa laughed. “I don’t doubt it.” She sobered. “But it still wouldn’t be easy.”
He slid his arms around her waist and drew her closer. “When I was lying on the deck under Gerik’s boot with my nanosystem frozen, I knew you wouldn’t let them win. I knew you’d get us out of it. And I trusted you enough to wait until you made your move.” He brushed the pad of his thumb against her mouth. “That’s when I realized I love you.”
She caught her breath. As he watched, a slow, blinding smile spread over her face. “It took you that long? I fell in love with you when you believed me about Umar’s smear campaign to make me look like a drunk.”
He smiled as his heart picked up that hard beat again. “Will you marry me?”
“Sweet Lady,” she breathed, “yes!”
Her mouth tasted of champagne and strawberries. He groaned into her lips, instantly hard.
Rance swept her into his arms, kicking aside the velvet of her train as it tried to tangle his legs. Zarifa looped her arms around his neck as he carried her into the bedroom.
He looked breathtakingly handsome in his aristo black jacket and snug black trousers, a stark white cravat tied around his powerful throat. The Order of the Lion hung around his neck from a crimson ribbon that provided the one splash of color against all that monochrome starkness.
He lowered her to the thick red silk counterpane of her bed—the same bed she’d cried in so many nights for so many years. Straightening, he surveyed her with a frown.
Feeling suddenly uncertain, she frowned back. “What?”
“How the hell am I supposed to get you out of that dress?”
She laughed. “Come here, and I’ll show you.”
He grinned and lowered himself to her side. “Your wish is my command, mistress.”
Velvet whispered. Buttons yielded to impatient fingers with a gentle pop, corset strings sighed from their eyelets. His hands felt strong and warm on the bare skin of her thigh. His mouth met hers, licking, tasting, as she untied his cravat. His jacket dropped from broad, silk-clad shoulders.
He growled, the sound impatient. “Aristos wear too damn many clothes.”
Plucking at his buttons, she could only rumble her own growl of agreement.
Finally the edges of the shirt parted, revealing his broad chest, dusted in rich, curling hair. She smoothed her hands over the rise of his pectorals and listened to his groan as she thumbed his small, tight nipples.
Her corset yielded to his demanding fingers at last, spilling her breasts free for his mouth. She caught her breath as he bent to suckle in sweetly fierce tugs. “Rance…”
He rumbled something hot in reply, his fingers cupping and kneading with gentle skill. Her eyes drifted downward and found the massive ridge behind the fly of his trousers. She attacked the buttons with a greedy sound, hungry to touch him, taste him.
With every button, his cock pressed a bit more free, a long, rosy shaft, thickly veined and eager. She curled her fingers around his satin heat and groaned as he jolted in her hand.
Rance pulled away and hurriedly stripped his trousers down his thighs, pausing just long enough to drag off his boots before jerking his pants the rest of the way off.
He turned, magnificently naked, his cock thrusting from a thick nest at his groin. Zarifa caught her breath at the sight of him, tall and powerful, sculpted muscle lying in beautiful ridges along torso and thighs and brawny arms. He looked down at her, and his eyes seemed to catch flame.
Zarifa lay in creamy nudity atop the green velvet gown and red silk of the counterpane, her hair a crown of flame that matched the soft thatch between her legs. Her eyes looked fathomless as she gazed up at him, her soft lips parted. Her nipples peaked, rosy and lovely, on the full, soft mounds of her breasts.
“In all my life,” Rance said hoarsely, “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you. No woman, no mountain, no sunset, no nebula. Nothing as beautiful.”
Her violet eyes widened and blinked. She ducked her head, the gesture oddly shy. “I…” Her voice trailed off.
He’d rendered his bold empress speechless.
Of course, he had to kiss her again after that as he covered that strong, slim body with his. She kissed him back, her mouth just as eager and hungry as his own. When she curled her long legs around his waist, his head swam. He could feel her heart beating against his, hard and fast.
Violet eyes met his as he lifted his head. “I love you.” And the truth of that was stark in her exquisite gaze. A single tear spilled free to roll down her elegant cheek. “You gave me back my life.”
“No.” He brushed away the tear. “You’d have found a way to beat them even without me. That’s why I love you.”
She lifted her head and took his mouth with a warm, sweet hunger. They surged together, skin to skin, her breasts soft against his chest, his cock hard against her belly.
Rance began kissing his way down her body, lingering to taste the delicate hollow of her throat, then trailing gentle bites to the budding crowns of her breasts. She gasped as he paused to circle the tight peaks with his tongue and rake his teeth carefully across them. She tasted sweet, heady, impossibly delicious.
“Sweet Lady,” she moaned.
He started to smile—just as long, delicate fingers closed around his cock. His back arched in pleasure as she stroked and explored him.
“Let me taste you.” She cupped his balls in her hand, caressed him with a gentleness that stole his breath.
“Only if I get to taste you, too.”
She laughed, breathy and seductive. “You talked me into it.”
They rearranged themselves, him shifting until he was head down along her body. The scent of her sex hit him in a pure wave of intoxication, and he groaned as he lowered his head.
She was already deliciously wet. He shuddered in pleasure as he swirled his tongue through tender folds.
Then her hot mouth closed over him in a breath-stealing rush. He gasped at the laser-bright pleasure. And gave himself up to her.
Closing her mouth around the head of him was a pure, delicious pleasure all by itself. She loved the way he felt filling her mouth, loved the shudder and jump of his powerful body as he reacted to her touch.
And she adored every slow, tormenting lick he gave her in sweet retaliation. The pleasure burned her like a brand, hot as Terran whiskey—and just as quick to go to her head. She wrapped one hand tighter around his thick shaft and took him deeper inside, digging her nails into his ass to hold him there.
Sweet Lady, he felt so good.
She licked, tasted, teased, fighting to concentrate despite the exquisite sensations he inflicted with his clever mouth and pumping fingers.
Until it wasn’t enough. She needed the thick cock she teased buried inside her as far as he could get it. She jerked her head away and gasped, “Now. Lady, Rance, now!”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Pulling away from her, he moved between her thighs and lifted her ass in his hands. Aiming his glistening length for her swollen sex. Zarifa rolled her hips up, fierce and needy. He p
lunged inside in one hot sweep. With a helpless gasp, Zarifa grabbed for his brawny shoulders, half blinded by that first luscious burst of pleasure.
Bracing both hands against the mattress, he began to thrust, slowly, carefully. She met him, rolling her hips, taking him so deep he shuddered.
He felt thick and endless in those slow, deliberate digs. Muscle surged and flexed in his powerful torso as he braced himself over her, and his ass rolled under her calves, all gentle strength.
Pleasure bloomed through her like an exotic rose with each burning entry, each delicious retreat. She shivered helplessly as she watched his face, staring into those tender golden eyes.
She’d never felt like this. Never felt such heat, such passion. Never known herself loved with such sweet certainty.
The orgasm took her by surprise, drowning her in a tide of fire and cream. She gasped as it rolled over her, hot and inevitable, driven by his long, pumping thrusts.
He growled as she convulsed. And lunged, so deep his pelvis ground against hers. Then again, faster and faster, harder and harder, gentleness lost in the frenzy of his need. And each slap of flesh on flesh drove her pleasure higher, wilder.
Rance roared, throwing his dark head back, arching hard against her as he came. She screamed, her cry ringing over his as the pleasure flamed like a star.
Tangled in velvet and silk, they lay together, breathing hard, hearts still pounding.
Tomorrow, Zarifa knew, they’d take her ship and head for the Freeworlds. She didn’t know what she’d find there on those wild planets, didn’t know what kind of acceptance she’d find among his people. But it didn’t matter.
Home was wherever he was.
With a sigh of pleasure, Zarifa let her eyes slip closed and settled into Rance’s strong arms to sleep.
A JAGUAR’S KISS
Lora Leigh
For Natalie.
For your friendship, your willingness to listen,
and your patience in the face of so many
different versions of one story.
But most of all, just for being you.
FOREWORD
They were created, they weren’t born.
They were trained, they weren’t raised.
They were taught to kill, and now they’ll use their training to ensure their freedom.
They are Breeds. Genetically altered with the DNA of the predators of the earth. The wolf, the lion, the cougar, the Bengal: the killers of the world. They were to be the army of a fanatical society intent on building their own personal army.
Until the world learned of their existence. Until the Council lost control of their creations, and their creations began to change the world.
Now, they’re loose. Banding together, creating their own communities, their own society, and their own safety, and fighting to hide the one secret that could see them destroyed.
The secret of mating heat. The chemical, the biological, the emotional reaction of one Breed to the man or woman meant to be his or hers forever. A reaction that binds physically. A reaction that alters more than just the physical responses or heightens the sensuality. Nature has turned mating heat into the Breeds’ Achilles’ heel. It’s their strength, and yet their weakness. And Mother Nature isn’t finished playing yet.
Man has attempted to mess with her creations. Now, she’s going to show man exactly how she can refine them.
Killers will become lovers, lawyers, statesmen, and heroes. And through it all, they will cleave to one mate, one heart, and create a dynasty.
PROLOGUE
Natalie Ricci stared at the tall, imposing figure standing on her doorstep and reminded herself to breathe. A woman who fainted over a dark, arrogant, exceptionally handsome man deserved whatever happened to her while she was out cold. And anything this man did, she would want to be awake for.
“Can I help you?” She brushed back the dark bangs that grew over her forehead and tried to restrain the nervous jitter playing patty-cake in her stomach. Tall, dark, and handsome was good, real good, but that gleam of powerful male assurance in his eyes warned her this man would be impossible for any woman to ever comfortably control.
“Natalie Ricci?” Even his voice was worth shivering for.
There was no discernible accent, and she was fairly good at identifying accents. His voice was well modulated, perfectly pitched, and stroked over her senses like black velvet.
Black hair, thick and lustrous, was pulled back from his face and bound at the back of his neck. His fallen angel features were composed, almost emotionless, but those eyes, eyes like emeralds, gleamed with intelligence, sensuality, and a spark of primal intensity from within his sun-bronzed face.
There were shadows in those eyes as well. A latent, hidden pain that a part of her, the feminine, caring side of her that she wished she could ignore, longed to ease.
Dark jeans cinched low on leanly muscled hips while a dark blue chambray shirt stretched across his powerful chest. And he wore boots. Well-worn, scarred, and totally masculine boots.
“I’m Natalie Ricci.” She had to clear her throat to answer him, had to tighten her stomach to stop the little flutters of longing that attacked her womb.
Whew, if ever there was a man to tempt her hard-won self-control, she was betting it would be this one. What he was doing on her doorstep she had no idea, but whatever he was selling, she was certain she was ready to buy. Empty bank account notwithstanding.
It was really too bad, too. She had sworn off men. Until she could figure out how to play the game, how to protect her heart and her independence, then men were out.
As luscious and sexual as this man looked, she had a feeling he would be just as controlling, domineering, and arrogant as any man born. Probably worse than most. Definitely more than her ex-husband, whose control tendencies had managed to destroy their marriage.
“Can I help you?” she asked again, wishing she had worn something other than old faded jeans and her brother’s too-big, paint-spattered T-shirt.
He inhaled slowly, as though he had caught the scent of something that intrigued him.
“Ms. Ricci, I’m Saban Broussard, liaison to the Breed Ruling Cabinet. I’m here to discuss your application to teach in Buffalo Gap.” He pulled the slender identification wallet from the back of his jeans and flipped it open. The Breed law enforcement badge, his photo, and pertinent information were all displayed.
She froze in shock. Well, shock and the sound of his name, or the way he said his name, Saban, a soft little sigh of the S, the subtle a, and the bahn at the end. But what caught her, what had her senses standing to complete attention, was the vaguest hint of a Cajun accent in his voice after her certainty that there had been no accent.
If he was Cajun, she was just lost. If there was any sexier accent created, then she couldn’t think of it at the moment.
It took several breathless seconds for her senses to stop reeling, to focus on who he was and where he was from. When she did, her eyes widened in shock.
“Did I get the position?”
She wanted that position with a desperation that had left her shaking when she filled out the application more than a year ago. She had known, had been warned that there were thousands upon thousands of applicants on the waiting list for a teaching position in the small town just outside the Breed headquarters of Sanctuary.
She had taken the chance, filled out the application, and sent it in, praying. She had prayed for months, and when nothing came of it, she settled back into her own routine and tried to make other plans.
“May we speak inside, Miss Ricci?” Saban Broussard turned his head, stared along the tree-lined street, and lifted his brow at the residents that had managed to find one reason or another to come to their porches or to work on their lawns. She should just charge admission and have done with it.
She bit her lip, knowing the questions that would be coming before the hour was out.
“Come in.” She stood back, holding the door open and allowing him to
step inside the house.
He brought the scent of the mountains with him, wild and un-tamed, dark and dangerous.
“Thank you.” He nodded as she led the way into the small kitchen off her living room.
The living room was almost empty, filled with taped boxes rather than furniture as Natalie packed her belongings.
“Have you already taken another position?” He stopped in the center of her kitchen and stared at the boxes there.
She shook her head. “I haven’t. Simply moving to an apartment closer to the school where I currently work. My ex-husband gets the house and all its glorious payments. I get an apartment.” And hopefully a little peace.
He stared around the kitchen again, his jaw bunching before turning back to her.
“I was sent to inform you of the opening of the position and to escort you to a meeting with our pride leader, Callan Lyons,” he said then. “I’ll then stay to help you get things in order before escorting you to Buffalo Gap.”
She really needed to sit down, but she had given the table and chairs to a distant cousin that had recently made the monumental mistake of getting married.
“How did I get the position?” She shook her head in confusion. “I was told there were thousands of applicants just waiting for one to open.”
His lips quirked. “I believe the pride leader, Callan Lyons, stated it was close to forty thousand applicants. You hit the short list on the first stage of the selection process and managed to gain the position by what I’m told was a very long, tedious, and exacting investigation into the backgrounds of those on that list. Congratulations, Miss Ricci. You’ll be the first teacher hired in the county in close to seven years.”
Natalie blinked back at him. He stood confidently, his arms held loosely at his sides, his eyes seeming to take in everything as she stared back at him, certain she must look like a complete lunatic.
“How soon can you be ready to leave?” He stared around the house once again. “Callan Lyons of the Breed Ruling Cabinet will be flying into the capital, Columbia, tomorrow evening, if this is convenient for you, to outline the position and discuss the specifics of the job, though we do need to arrive ahead of him to complete other matters and sign the endless forms, contracts, and so forth that will go with the job.”
Shifter Page 8
