• CHAPTER 4 •

He was waiting for her when she stepped into her suite on the upper floor of the Western Bureau of Breed Affairs. The dun-colored buttoned shirt and matching pants were paired with work-scarred boots and a wide leather belt. The sand-colored fall of hair around his face was both rakish and almost boyish. But there was nothing boyish about the look in his gunmetal gray eyes.

He wasn’t armed—at least she couldn’t see or scent any weapons on him. They had a distinctive smell, one that reminded her of death.

Sprawled back in her recliner, remote in hand as he scanned the channels on the HD screen. On the table beside him sat several empty beer bottles and one half-full and a half-eaten ham, roast beef and cheese sandwich.

He flipped off the screen and in a move that bespoke pure male confidence tilted his head and grinned back at her mockingly.

“Well, mate, did they get all their samples from you? At least until after we have sex again?” A dark blond brow arched with curious sarcasm.

She hated him. She was certain of it.

Bastard.

She made certain her smile was cold. “Examinations are all finished and hopefully a hormonal treatment that will counteract the mating will be here soon.”

Of course, nothing could counteract the mating; it could only help ease it, nothing more. But even an easing would help, because she was damned if she could clear her head enough to think past the Mating Heat.

He flipped the recliner back to a sitting position, his booted feet meeting the carpet as she watched him warily. And he laughed at her.

“Nothing counteracts the mating, mate,” he assured her, the laughter still lingering in his voice.

His expression was frankly insulting.

Now she knew why Ashley, the Coyote female she worked with, swore she was shooting her mate at first sight.

Before he had a chance to exchange any bodily fluids with her.

“I can only hope this will be the exception.” She had a feeling it was anything but.

Arousal was burning through her, creating a fine film of perspiration along her forehead, and her hands were getting ready to shake.

She just wanted to touch him.

Taste him.

“So … ,” he drawled, rising slowly to his feet. “They tell you who I am?”

Cocky bastard. Did he think she couldn’t figure that one out on her own?

“Are you a Breed?” she snapped.

His brow arched. Was that surprise she saw in his face?

“Why, mate, I do believe I am.” He was laughing at her again.

Propping her hand on her hip, she restrained the need to snarl back at him in fury. “Do I smell as though I give a fuck what your name is right now? Yes, I know what your goddamned name is, and I’ll be damned if I’ll scream out ‘Dog’ while I’m coming. So please be kind enough to choose another.”

Choose another name?

She was worried about the name she called out when she orgasmed, when the scent of her Heat was like a drug hitting his system?

He didn’t even have time to tell her what he thought about that demanding little statement before she turned with a little twitch of her nose and a toss of her head and stalked through her bedroom door.

Had anyone ever delivered such a stinging rebuke only to sweep away before he could deliver a comeback?

He didn’t think so. And he didn’t like it. He couldn’t remember a time anyone had left him speechless. And the knowledge that his fledgling mate had done so didn’t sit well with him.

He grinned, raw, primal lust rising hard and fast, releasing the hunger he’d been holding back.

He’d warned her the night he slipped into her hospital room so long ago to never dare him. And though she might have been unconscious when he bent over her, she’d damned sure come awake once he’d whispered the words.

She might not say the words, but every look, every word out of that smart mouth of hers, was a blatant challenge, and it was time to meet that challenge in a way she couldn’t refute.

Dog slipped silently into the bathroom minutes later, naked, anticipating a confrontation with his mate, when he was brought to a hard, sudden stop.

The scent of feminine arousal was heavy in the small room. Tempting. If ambrosia had a scent, then it was the smell of his mate’s need for him. But mixed with it, and vying for supremacy, was the scent of her pain and her fear.

Never had he scented her fear.

Trepidation on occasion, anger, confusion a few times, but he’d never fear.

Moving silently to the entrance of the shower, he expected to see her tears, a ravaged expression. Instead, she stood beneath an icy spray, her forehead and hands resting against the tile wall, her profile composed and eerily calm.

There wasn’t a hint of the turmoil he could sense pouring from her, mixing with her arousal but doing nothing to dim it.

Standing so still and silent, the soaked silk of her hair flowing down her delicate back, she made him more aware of his own strength and larger build in a way he’d never been before. But it was the mix of chaotic emotions that held him, that had his chest clenching, had him pausing before he reached for the shower’s controls and pushed the temperature from icy to something far warmer and more inviting.

He waited for the fall of water to warm as he watched his little mate. As she stood like a statue, silent and so very still, he could sense the battle inside her, feel it tearing at her. And only a fool wouldn’t be aware of whom she feared so deeply that she was standing there fighting to control herself.

She feared him. Feared him with the same depth that she wanted him.

And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to fix it. He didn’t dare give voice to his own secrets, because once they touched the air around him, they’d be secrets no longer, and he couldn’t protect her if that happened.

“So, tell me, mate,” he said instead. “What name would you prefer I carry?”

Cassie swung around, so shocked that she hadn’t heard him, hadn’t smelled him enter the room, that she could only blink back at the Breed standing in the shower’s open doorway.

“Is there something else you’d prefer to call me?” There was nothing mocking, cruel, or censorious in his tone. He spoke as though merely curious as to her answer.

She could only shake her head, uncertain now.

For a second, he lowered his head and stared at the floor as she slowly became aware of the fact that the water flowing around her had become much warmer, steamy in fact. And within the warmth she could swear the hunger emanating from him was sinking inside her and increasing her own.

When he lifted his head, those steel gray eyes met her own gaze, and though she couldn’t sense any particular emotion from him, rather than lashing at her, his lust seemed to surround her, almost comforting instead.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked him instead. “All these years we’ve messaged, why didn’t you tell me you were my mate? You knew. I know you did.”

He gave a quick, firm nod. “I knew. I’ve known since I first saw you and caught your scent flowing toward me. And I think I showed remarkable restraint in waiting to claim you.”

He chose that moment to move into the roomy shower, taking up space, surrounding her with his scent, with his hunger, as his larger body blocked the shower spray.

But he still hadn’t answered her question, and she would have demanded the answer again if the need for him wasn’t swamping her.

She fought to breathe, to hold back all the needs and sensations, the hunger beating at her, pushing past control, confusion and fear and reaching out to him.

Oh God, she ached for him. Needed his touch as she’d never needed anything before him.

So much power filled his hard body, more than was normal for most Breed males. Broad shoulders, hard biceps, golden flesh stretched across his chest and down his lean, muscular abs. Honed strength by training and necessity, each inch of his body built for endurance and in prime, peak condition.

Between his thighs, his engorged cock stood out from his body, the mushroom-shaped crest and heavily veined shaft throbbing in arousal. She’d heard Wolf and Coyote Breed males were exceptionally endowed, but until Dog, she hadn’t seen proof of it. That hard flesh was thick, powerful and imposing, like the Breed possessing it.

Water sluiced down his body, the steam infusing with the scent of his lust and of the male facing her. Heated, redolent of the desert itself, a whisper of safety, a hint of a storm. Enduring. Alive.

She licked her lips at the remembered taste of him filling her, taking her.

She’d deal with his name later. For now, this need for him was clawing at her, destroying her.

“What do you want, mate?” His fingers slid into the sodden length of her hair as he gripped his shaft with the other hand. “Or shall I help you decide?”

It didn’t take much pressure to push her to her knees.

She remembered how he’d pressed his cock to her lips in that hotel room, the taste of him, and suddenly, she was beyond desperate for more. She was dying for him.

Her lips parted as the broad crest pressed against them, her tongue catching the essence of the mating hormone seeping from the glands beneath it as her mouth closed over the wide crest.

Silk over steel. The dark, plum-shaped crest pulsed, the slight taste of the pre-seminal fluid infusing her senses.

A helpless moan welled from her throat as she sucked him in eagerly. Her lips closing over his hard flesh, drawing on it and giving herself up to the Heat flaming through her body.

“That’s it, mate. Suck me.” Her mouth tightened at the explicit growl, her hand lifting, covering his where he gripped his hard flesh.

Thick, throbbing, his cock head filled her mouth as she worked it over, thrusting in shallow strokes past her lips as he stared down at her, his expression savage with lust.

She couldn’t hold back her moans as his hand moved from beneath hers, allowing her to stroke the thick stalk as she milked the sensitive head with her mouth. His fingers tightened in her hair, tugged at it as another flex of the broad crest gave her another heady taste of the hormone-rich pre-seminal ejaculation.

Her body sensitized further at the taste, her mouth becoming greedier.

“Cassie … ah hell … your sweet mouth …” The inherent growl in his voice only made her want more, the sound of his pleasure as she took him goading her further.

She worked her tongue over the thick crest, hungry for more of him. His taste, his need for her, the hunger for him rising ever higher. She ached for him, his ragged groans, the explicit words fueled by his need.

“Fuck! Yes …” The sound was a snarl of pleasure as she managed to take him deeper. “That’s it, baby … so damned good.”

The roughening sound of his voice, the brutal need filling it, edged her own need to a critical level.

She took the engorged rest as deep as possible as another pulse of his pre-cum coated the back of her mouth, easing it. She worked her tongue against the sensitive underside, her own moans impossible to hold back.

Each shallow stroke took him nearly to her throat now. Thrusting in and pulling back, each impalement controlled even as she rapidly lost her ability to restrain herself.

The sound of their heavy breathing mingled with the shower and that of her mouth on his cock, greedily taking each thrust as his movements increased. His hands tightened in her hair, his breathing rapidly becoming more ragged.

“Ah hell, Cassie.” His groan was a rumbled sound of pleasure.

She sucked at the head of his cock, tightened the draw of her mouth, increasing the movements of her tongue against the sensitive underside of the iron-hard flesh.

“Take it, damn you … Take my dick, baby … all of it …”

The first eruption of silky, hormone-rich semen hit the back of her throat, followed by another.

Sensual greed took over. The taste of his release had her sucking him with abandon, desperate for each taste as she swallowed his release and felt the need raging through her increase.

Hard hands pulled at her hair as he forced her head back and drew her quickly to her feet. In the next instant he pushed her around until her back was to him, placed his hand under her knee and pushed her foot to the shower seat built along the wall. And before she could draw a breath his erection was parting the folds of her desire-slick inner lips.

A pulse of heat as the pre-cum hit the entrance; a second later nerve endings became so sensitive, so desperate for touch, she could barely breathe through it.

His head bent to hers, his lips caressing the shell of her ear. “Your pussy’s wet, Cassie. So hot and wet and sweet.” As he held her steady, his hips shifted, his cock pushing inside her. “So fucking tight.”

Another ejaculation of the pre-seminal fluid shot inside her, sensitizing, searing her with increasing sensation.

She couldn’t stop her cry, part pleasure, part pain, as her inner flesh began to give way to the intrusion.

Oh God, he was so thick, stretching her, working inside the snug entrance with firm, determined thrusts.

“Sweet, tight pussy,” he growled as the Breed pre-cum shot inside her again. “So fucking hot … take me, baby. Take all of me …”

Panting cries fell from her lips as she backed into each thrust, needing more. She was dying for him, desperate for each inward stroke, each lance of agonizing pleasure.

“It’s good, Cassie,” he crooned, his voice guttural, roughened with his pleasure. He pulsed again, harder this time, the ejaculation of hormonal fluid building her need, the sensitivity of her flesh and her lust. “So tight around my dick … sucking me in …”

She screamed as the next thrust buried him to the hilt inside her.

She could feel every inch of his cock as it stretched her, throbbed inside her. Her vagina gripped, rippled around the intruder and grew increasingly sensitive with each pulse of pre-cum. Her inner flesh was rippling with need, clenching, tightening, giving way to the heavy erection, stretching around it as each nerve ending blazed into brilliant life.

Her vagina flexed, spasming in intense pleasure at each ejaculation, greedily taking the fluid that somehow allowed a female to such an excess of flesh inside her. To take what she knew would soon result.

“Please … please …” She had no idea what she was even begging for at this point.

The sensations were more intense, driving deeper, harder inside her than before. The driving excess of pleasure, pain and desperate hunger was all she knew, all she could process.

“Easy, baby.” He groaned as another hard pulse of heat infused her flesh. “Damn, you get tighter every time I fuck you. Greedy little pussy sucking at my cock.”

His hips moved, flexed, the thick length shifting inside her with devastating results.

There was no warning. Her orgasm tore through her, blazing through her senses in wave after wave of a pleasure so violent she could barely process the sensations.

“Fuck me … damn you … fuck me …” That was her cry, her demand, and even as it fell from her lips she couldn’t make herself care about language.

The world blurred around her as he began moving, nearly drawing free of her, pushing back, hard, hammering thrusts until she completely dissolved.

The peak of the extended orgasm was cataclysmic. The pulse of his release, the thickening of the Breed knot inside her, stretching her further, throbbing hot and—God help her—giving her agonizing pleasure.

Each hard throb of the swollen flesh was a pulse of release. A hot flick of lightning-sharp sensation that went beyond pleasure. Buried deep, the head of his cock nudging at her cervix, his semen unimpeded as it shot to the very depths of her body.

And as he destroyed her, his arms surrounded her, held her secure against his hard chest as she sobbed out in ecstasy. His teeth bit into her shoulder; his tongue probed at the wound. He held her, whispered her name, eased her as the knot held him locked inside her, extending the pleasure until she lay limp against him.

She was only barely aware of him pulling free of her sometime later. Turning off the water, he lifted her hair with one hand and quickly managed to secure a towel around the sodden length. Then, picking her up, he carried her back to the bedroom, and laid her gently in her bed.

She lay, floating in satiation and exhaustion, but still aware of him. Aware of his cleaning their combined releases from between her thighs before drying her gently.

When he moved, she assumed he was finished, that he’d go back to the television, leave her lying alone. Instead, when he returned, he pulled the towel gently from her damp hair and began rubbing the moisture from it with a dry towel.

She drifted on waves of relaxation, distantly amazed when he rolled her to her back, finished drying her hair, then went to work separating the mass into sections and combing the tangles from it. Patiently murmuring his appreciation of the silken texture, the unruly curls, he worked the comb through them. And when he finished with the nearly dried strands he weaved them into a loose braid and secured them.

At no time did he seem frustrated with the task, or in the least impatient. Amazingly enough, she thought as she drifted into sleep, she could have sworn she sensed his enjoyment.