Megan's Mark (31 page)

“In other words, no,” Braden retorted. “She’ll skin you when she finds out.”

“We’re heading back with you when Jonas arrives tonight. She’ll forgive me.” His voice held the confidence of a man well loved by his woman.

“You hope.” Braden grunted. “Cover the house tight until further notice. If the watchers make a move, we’ll need a good five-minute head start if possible.”

“We’ll spread back and take post above then.” Tarek’s voice firmed as the Breed commander slid easily into place.

“Be on call by nightfall though. I have a bad feeling the closer it gets.”

Yeah, so did he. Enough so that he was close to disobeying Jonas’s direct command to stay put until the heli-jet arrived.

“We’ll be fully prepared to move if needed by nightfall.”

He finally sighed. Town was a bad idea. Drawing innocents into the crossfire was not a reasonable solution.

He disconnected, slid the phone back into its holder and made his way up the stairs. Each step brought him closer to the threads of mental pain he could feel emanating from his mate.

His mate.

God had gifted him with something so precious, so pure, he was terrified of seeing it broken. He now understood why Megan’s family gathered around her, fighting to protect her, to keep the evil of the world from touching her.

She was like a breath of spring. of hope. She had blown into his life, his heart, and stolen any chance he had of defending himself against her.

He had never thought he had a weakness before; now he knew he did. He had never believed he could find the strength he needed outside himself. Now he knew he had been wrong. Megan was his weakness, but she was also his strength.

He pushed open the bedroom door and undressed silently before padding to the bathroom. The door wasn’t locked and opened easily beneath his hand. The sound of the shower running should have drowned out her sobs. The smell of chlorinated water should have covered the salty scent of her tears. But it didn’t.

He stepped to the tub, pulling back the shower curtain slowly and staring in at her. She had known he was there.

She was fighting for composure, to rein in the tears, the pain.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was husky, endearing in the strength he saw.

“For what?” he whispered as he shut off the water, pulling her to him. He took a towel from the rack on the wall and helped her step from the tub. “For feeling? Or for being strong enough to cry when others can’t?”

He had never cried.

She gazed back at him. The blue of her eyes, as deep as the oceans they reminded him of, stared back at him from within her dusky skin. The sodden silk of her hair hung down her back, nearly brushing her hips. He began to dry her slowly. He wrapped the midnight tresses in another towel, then worked to dry the moisture from her body.

She was exquisite. Her body was shaped by nature, with smooth female muscle beneath her silken flesh. Enduring.

She curved where she should in her full breasts, the perfect size to fill a man’s hands. Her flared hips, which his hands cupped easily to hold her in place beneath his thrusting body. Her tummy, slightly rounded, smooth and shimmering with a life all its own.

His palm flattened over it as he marveled at the differences between his rougher, tough flesh and the soft burnished silk of hers.

One day, his child could rest there, he thought. Despite the scientists repeated attempts to force conception, they had never managed to achieve it through the more accepted means. A Breed female could not conceive without Mating.

A Breed male did not develop semen compatible to breeding without Mating. And Mating required something those bastard scientists hadn’t believed in: a bonding. The coming together of two halves of a whole. The Breeds had been blessed by nature in a way a normal human being was never certain of-the assurance that that one man or woman was meant for them and them alone. Then nature had played a trump card no one could have expected. Only through the Mating could conception occur.

Braden closed his eyes as he felt her fingers in his hair, combing through the strands, stroking his scalp. The sensation sent pleasure racing through his body. Her lips were damp, parted, waiting for his kiss.

He licked at the silken curves, catching her gasp as his hands smoothed up her back. His fingers relished the feel of satiny skin as they moved along her side, smoothed over the golden globes of her breasts and whispered across her nipples.

Her response was immediate, hot. A small moan drifted past his lips, spearing straight to his cock as it jerked in demanding hunger.

Braden allowed a small smile to tip his lips as he turned her, backing her against the sink counter before gripping her hips and lifting her until her rear settled against the cool top.

Her eyes widened.

“Spread your legs for me.” He knelt before her, propping her small feet against his shoulders as his palm pressed against her stomach. “Lean back, baby. Let me have my dessert. Sweet, soft cream, just the way I like it.”

His tongue licked up the small parted slit, his taste buds exploding with the taste of spicy sweetness as her hands clenched in his hair.

“This is so depraved.” A small, arousal-filled sigh whispered around him as his tongue circled her clit.

The swollen little bud was so responsive that each lick around it sent her inner juices flowing against his fingers as he massaged the sensitive entrance.

“Uh-uh.” He growled. “We haven’t gotten to depraved yet.”

“We haven’t?” She gasped as he worked one finger inside the small entrance of her pussy, stroking the tight little muscles that gripped the digit so erotically.

“Hmm, not yet.” He pursed his lips and kissed her little slit slowly.

Her hips jerked as her thighs tightened, a needy little cry leaving her lips. God, she tasted sweet. And so fucking hot. He let his tongue circle the swollen bud, feeling the small, shivery little pulses of response as he lingered against it before suckling at it lightly.

She was breathing harder now, but hell, so was he.

As he caressed her clit, his finger delved into her pussy, rubbing, stroking, finding all the soft little spots that made her gasp, made those hot little moans leave her throat as she begged for more.

As he began to work another finger inside her, he suckled harder, feeling her orgasm building as her pussy clenched and spasmed around his finger. Damn, pleasuring her was mind-blowing. Hearing those hot little moans, feeling her tighten, hearing her beg. It went to his head like a narcotic, knowing he could make her lose herself in his touch.

But he lost himself in her touch as well. Her fingers gripping his hair, stroking his neck. Her thighs pressing against his cheek, holding him in place as he pushed her closer to the release she was reaching so desperately for.

Her cream flowed from her. It made his fingers slick as he worked them deeper, stroking her, building the heat raging inside her body. Her hips began to writhe, raking her clit harder against his tongue as he sucked at the little bud.

She was so close. So swollen and begging for release.

Her cunt tightened on each retreat of his fingers, milked him back in with each entrance.

“Braden. Oh God. Braden, let me come.” Her voice was husky and rich with hunger.

He murmured softly against her cream-coated flesh, his tongue flickering her clit, his mouth suckling her harder as he pushed her headlong into the explosion she was seeking so desperately.

He felt it hit her. She tightened, clamping down on his fingers with a strength that had his cock jerking in hunger to feel it as well. But first, he had a need to taste her. To feel and to consume the pleasure that would pour from her.

He moved his fingers faster, deeper, driving into her as her clit swelled, pulsed. Her scream of release echoed around him. A final sucking pressure at her clit to ensure he had given her maximum satisfaction before he pulled back quickly, removing his fingers and driving his tongue inside her weeping pussy.

She screamed again as he licked. Her hips jerked violently as the next orgasm tore through her. He licked and probed, filling his senses with her taste, her pleasure, before jerking to his feet, aligning his cock to the sweet warmth, and driving home.

Her head had fallen back against the mirror, her expression filled with ecstasy as her parted lips gasped for breath, for strength as a keening cry left them. Sharp little nails dug into his scalp as he leaned close, his lips covering the small mark on her shoulder, his tongue licking, stroking as he fucked her relentlessly. Driving into her as he rushed headlong into his own release and triggering hers as his teeth sank into her flesh.

It was heaven. It was rapture. It was the most incredible pleasure he could have ever known. He felt the barb extend, locking into the muscles of her pussy as his cock spewed its release and the small extension vibrated with the cataclysm.

In that second he was reborn in her. He felt his soul touch hers as his gaze met the deep, dazed blue eyes staring back at him. He felt a rush of elation, of possession a second before his head fell back and a roar tore from his chest.

His mate.

God only knew how much time had passed before Braden was able to loosen his grip on her. His head was buried in her long fall of hair as he crushed her to him, holding her, soothing her.

He cleaned her gently, drying the soft, swollen flesh he had invaded.

Such pleasure should have never been possible. It wrapped around the soul and filled it with a light that heated from the inside out. Warming where once it had been cold. Soothing it where there had been only pain. Just as Megan did. She was the miracle.

“I wanted to be strong,” she told him moments later as he stepped back, steadying her as she stood before him. “I wanted to accept what I was remembering and then go on.” Her voice was husky with spent passion, with a renewed sadness. “I can’t accept it, Braden.”

The heaviness in her voice tore at him. God, he had never believed that another’s pain could affect him so deeply.

“Accept what, Megan?” He kept his voice soft, gentle. It wasn’t the time to push her. He couldn’t push her. Whatever tormented her memories, she would have to release on her own.

“Aimee.” Her answered surprised him.

She moved away from him, reaching for the clothes she had laid out earlier. “I remember feeling the grief in that dream. God, it was so strong. I thought my soul would rip from my body, it hurt so bad. And I didn’t know why.”

He knew. He had felt that grief himself as it poured from the young women in the Labs. The horror, the bleak knowledge that no part of their bodies or their souls was sacred.

“She was raped.” Her voice was a mere breath of sound. “It couldn’t have been long before I saw them at the Academy. And she looked so calm. Her eyes were as dead as the others, but it poured from her.” Anger thickened her voice.

“And the rage.” Her voice was thick with the memory of it. “The rage was male. Mark knew, and there was nothing he could do about it.”

Braden grimaced. God above have mercy. He couldn’t imagine living with the knowledge that some bastard had forced Megan in such a way. He had been unaware that Mark and Aimee had mated, but he remembered clearly the days when their futures had been uncertain. Had Mark and Aimee been that unfortunate, then Mark would have had no choice but to endure. The life of his mate would have transcended pride, and the rage would have eaten him alive.

Braden stalked from the bathroom to where he had dropped his clothing in the next room. He dressed quickly, but it was several long moments before he could glance up from where he was tying his boots, watching as she stepped into the room.

“Who was it?” He had to know who she saw. The need to kill filled him with the fury of hatred. He wanted the bastard’s blood.

He felt her hesitation and wondered if she sensed the fury he was fighting to hold back. He didn’t want her to feel it, didn’t want her to know the black hatred welling inside him.

“I thought he was a friend.” She kept her voice low, fighting the pain rising inside her. Confusion filled the room, the fight to accept, to get past the denial of the answers she had found within herself.

“Megan.” He stood slowly and moved to her, catching her shoulders as he stared down at her. “I need to know who it was. I have to know what we’re facing.”

“It makes sense now.” A brittle, bitter laugh left her lips as she stared back. “How he managed to pull in the military. How he could find my schedule. All of it.”

An eerie foreboding began to fill him.

“I thought he was a friend,” she said again, her voice hoarse as betrayal filled her. “But he wasn’t. He killed those Breeds and now he wants to kill me, because he suspected their deaths could trigger the memory of seeing him with them. And he’s my father’s best friend, Braden. It’s Senator Cooley. Senator Mac Cooley.”

Bingo.

Chapter Twenty

Senator Mac Cooley. It all made sense now. He had been one of the strongest opponents of Breed Law, the new legal mandates that gave Breeds autonomy and had declared them human despite their DNA. He was also the reason why two military advisors were now required to be at the Bureau of Breed Affairs in Washington as well as two to oversee all security and interrogation at Sanctuary. Not that it wasn’t easy to fool the bureaucratic twits, but the thought of a spy in the house made Braden’s ass itch.

The spy was most likely the reason why the attacks at Sanctuary were always so precise and why their weaknesses were exploited so easily.

“Show me your weapons.” They were moving down the stairs as Braden glanced toward the shade-covered windows.

Night was falling quickly.

“Hall closet.” They made the turn and moved to the door. Megan threw it open, pushed boxes to the side and ripped coats from their hangers, tossing them to the corners of the closet to reveal a heavy metal safe door.

“I rarely keep it locked.” It clanged open to reveal an impressive display of weapons and ammunition. Nothing on par with what he could have found at Sanctuary, but impressive all the same.