Rule Breaker: A Novel of the Breeds (24 page)

Each measured, hard thrust tightened that coil of sensation building in her womb and echoing in her clit. Each stroke sent so many lashes of pleasure, striking arcs of heat and excitement rasping across her nerve endings that she feared she wouldn’t survive it.

Pounding inside her, the jackhammer thrusts built the agonizing pleasure, pushing it higher, sensitizing her further and tightening her body until she swore she felt the sun erupt inside her pussy.

A storm of sensation exploded through her. It flared through her, blinding heat followed by flames of ecstasy licking over every nerve ending, stroking and caressing some internal trigger before setting it off and sending clashing rapture reverberating through her senses.

She was jerking in his arms, crying out his name. Her vagina tightened on his cock as she felt the heavy throb, a thickening of the already wide shaft and that first, heated pulse of his release jetting inside her.

A second later, her arms were empty, her body was empty, the burning rapture shut off mid-orgasm, leaving her confused and cold before she realized his body no longer covered hers. He was no longer finding his release inside her.

Hell, he wasn’t even in the bed with her.

He was standing next to it, his breathing harsh, his blue eyes vivid and wild as he stared down at her, a snarl on his lips revealing the sharpened canines as his cock stood out from his body, thick and hard and glistening from their combined dampness.

“Rule?” she whispered, her chest suddenly tightening, a feeling of impending doom weighing on her soul and stealing her breath.

“I have to wash up.” His voice sounded odd, too thick, too heavy. “I’ll give you a ride home when I get out of the bathroom.”

He turned and stalked to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him two seconds before she heard the sound of the shower.

The shower?

He was taking a shower?

She stared down at her body, seeing the smear of blood on her thighs, staining the sheet between her legs. She was slick from her need for him, her body still throbbing with remembered bliss.

He would take her home after he washed up?

Why? What had she done wrong?

CHAPTER 14

God, what had he done!

His fist rammed into the shower, a ceramic tile cracking as Rule’s teeth gritted furiously, the torment racking his brain to the point that he didn’t even feel the pain to his knuckles.

Gypsy’s expression was branded into his head. That pale shock, her eyes rounded and dark with pain and confusion, then the color brightening as he’d made that dumb-assed statement. Her eyes had filled with tears even before he’d managed to turn from her and rush to the bathroom.

He’d left her lying there when he wanted nothing more than to push inside her again, swear he was just fucking crazy and give them both that electric, fiery pleasure he had been immersed in before he’d felt—

It.

His dick was fucking iron hard, pounding with the abrupt halt he’d forced on his release, the sensitive flesh just beneath the flared head fucking aching. Aching like a sore tooth right there where the mating barb was supposed to be located.

He checked his tongue against his teeth. Fuck. Son of a bitch, there were no fucking swollen glands, no mating hormone, nothing but that god-be-damned spot pulsing so violently he could see the flesh throbbing where it shouldn’t be.

Wrapping his fingers around his dick, he pressed the pad of his thumb against the hard throb, but all he felt was a tighter tension and slightly higher degree of sensitivity.

Was that normal, or was he was just so damned on guard for a mating that he was only now sensing it?

It couldn’t be a mating, could it?

What the hell was happening to him?

A mating barb didn’t extend from beneath the cock head without a mating. Without that wild taste in a Breed’s mouth, the crazy need to fuck his mate insane, only to have the overpowering lust shoot through him again and again.

Rule felt no weakness, no hard dick twenty-four-seven. Just whenever he so much as thought of Gypsy.

But he knew what he had felt as that first pulse of his release shot from his balls. He knew what he was feeling now just beneath the pad of his thumb. Surely, he would have known if he had felt it before.

Wouldn’t he?

His breathing was rough, hard as he stared down at the offending part of his body as he forced himself to release it, watching the flesh pulse like a heartbeat just beneath it.

It had to be something else, he told himself as cold water sluiced over his flesh and covered his cock, having little effect on the burning hunger ravaging his senses.

He was powerfully sexual, he knew that. He couldn’t count a high sex drive as a possible mating sign. He had a high sex drive anyway. Most male Breeds did. They simply loved to fuck and did it whenever, wherever they could. They loved sex and they loved women, and petting them, rubbing against them, sensing their pleasure and satisfaction.

It was like a drug. A high.

And Gypsy’s pleasure had been like no high he had ever known in his entire life. Hell, he had been so attuned to her pleasure that he swore he felt the echoes of her release beginning to strike so deep inside his senses that he wondered if it sank to his soul. Something else he’d only heard of happening with a mate.

But the mating signs weren’t there.

He couldn’t even call the strength of her echoing pleasure a mating sign without anything else to go with it. And the feeling of—something—a heat and sudden building tightness beneath the head of his cock just before he came had been so damned odd he’d jumped from her and rushed to the shower before he could risk the mating barb extending from his cock.

Once it was free, there was no going back.

How many times had he heard that?

Once the mating barb extended and locked inside his mate, there was simply no stopping the mating.

He shut the shower off, standing there, his flesh still hot, the need for Gypsy still pounding through his system like a fever he couldn’t stop.

But not just the need to fuck her.

He wanted so much more from her than just the incredible pleasure that had raced through his senses.

Mating Heat was all about the sex. It wasn’t about the rubbing, the touching, seeing the laughter in a lover’s eyes or feeling her joy as it wrapped around him.

Mating Heat was weakening. It took over the senses and erased everything but the need for the mate. He’d sensed that ravaging force in his twin, Lawe, when he’d found his mate. His brother’s lack of control, the inability to sense anything around him but Diane.

And he’d sensed it even before then, years before, confined in a cell, all too aware of the scent of his mother and the Coyote they called Elder in the labs. The scent of their need, of their building desperation had haunted that fucking lab. The scientists never forbade the Coyote soldiers from taking the female prisoners. But never before had one of them mated a breeder.

Morningstar had literally birthed a pack, four offspring, before her body had suddenly become infertile.

Or it had been, before Elder.

Before her Coyote rapist had mated her and caused her death.

That desperation to set her and her young free, to have her, no matter the cost, had been the cause of her death as well as her mate’s.

Rule knew he couldn’t let that happen to any woman he mated. If he mated, if he let himself weaken that far, then it would be far too easy to take Gypsy from him.

She wasn’t a fighter.

She wasn’t a Breed.

She was resourceful, smart. She’d spied for the Unknown for nine years without ever being identified until Jonas put his too-intelligent mind to work on finding one of their contacts.

But she wasn’t trained to survive.

And she couldn’t be his mate.

His dick slowly lost its desperate stiffness as he stared down at it, frowning in confusion, wondering what the fuck his body was doing.

What crazy shit was happening to him and how the hell was he supposed to fix it?

It couldn’t have been the mating barb. He wouldn’t be losing the hard-on if he were even close to the beginning stages of Mating Heat. It wasn’t possible from what he’d heard.

So it couldn’t be a mating, he thought desperately. It had to just be one of those damned anomalies Breeds came in contact with damned near every day of their lives.

They weren’t human and they weren’t animal, and their bodies weren’t normal. That made some interesting reactions sometimes.

That had to be what had happened this time.

A smothered grunt of amused irritation left his lips as he began thinking hard. Jerking a towel from the towel rack, he fought to come up with a reasonable explanation for what was no doubt going to be a furious lover once he left the bathroom.

Had he really told her he’d drive her home after he washed up?

He ran the towel quickly over his hair, shook the remaining water out of it and drew in a quick, hard breath. There was no such thing as a reasonable explanation, but maybe a partial truth would work. She made him feel a pleasure that no other woman had ever made him feel, and it simply shocked the hell out of him.

That was the truth, and he thought maybe Gypsy could sense the truth sometimes. A certain expression, the way her eyes darkened when he held something back from her, or when he hadn’t exactly told her the truth.

It was a suspicion he couldn’t prove yet.

Snapping the towel into the bathtub, he exhaled roughly and opened the door, stepping back into the bedroom.

“Gypsy, baby, I’m sor—” He looked around the empty room.

Before he could stop it, an enraged snarl erupted from him, an animal’s fury pounding through his veins with such suddenness that it was shocking.

The man he was became the secondary part of his senses. The animal jumped forward, suddenly free, suddenly enraged, though not at the woman. No, the animal was enraged at the man and clawing beneath his flesh as he tore free of the inner restraints.

Because of the man, his mate had run.

Before Rule could stop the impulse, his hand slashed out, claw marks raked across the wall, the shock of seeing that primal, impossible sight snapping inside him.

Claws?

His fingers, blood smeared, the tips of strong, lethally sharp claws extending from the tips—

Another snarl tore from him, nearly a roar as animal instincts clashed with human ones and nearly overwhelmed him once again.

“Back off, goddammit,” he snarled furiously, reining in the animalistic impulses tearing through him.

He had to think.

Blood pounded hard and fast through his veins, chocolate and peppermint teased his taste buds, and that sure as hell didn’t make sense because he hadn’t had one of the sweets in days.

Drawing in a deep breath, her scent, her emotions, he clenched his teeth against another snarl that rose from the animal trapped inside him.

Gypsy was gone.

Her dress and her shoes were gone.

The little clutch purse she had carried was gone.

There was nothing left of her but the scent of such overwhelming pain—and God help him, shame.

He’d shamed her, humiliated her.

Pushing his fingers through his hair, the animal growled out at the silence of the room as self-disgust filled him with a suddenness that was shocking.

What the fuck had he done now and how the hell was he going to fix it? Because as God was his witness, he would have to fix it. Mate or no mate, barb or no barb, he had to get her back. He was beginning to suspect she was far more than any lover, and even without Mating Heat, a mating mark or mating hormone, he wasn’t going to be able to do without her.

He hadn’t marked her, but he knew that somehow, some way, she had marked him. The thought of that wasn’t as distasteful now as the thought of it had been, even hours ago. As though in the midst of their pleasure, in acknowledging that he’d never known so much with another woman, he’d dropped his guard enough to realize she was much more to him than he’d allowed himself to believe.

He wasn’t going to let her go.

He’d hurt her, he knew that. He could scent how much he had hurt her. But she would have to forgive him. He would find a way to make her forgive him.

And if he didn’t?

Some part of him mocked his confidence.

He wouldn’t entertain the thought that she wouldn’t forgive him. He couldn’t. If he did, then the animal pacing and enraged inside him just might break the leash restraining it and do something that would well and truly shock the man who controlled it with such force.

And Rule didn’t know if his pride could take too many more shocks.

...

Huddling in the corner of the elevator, her head down, Gypsy was all too aware of the three Breeds who stood silently on the other side of the car.

They had been striding down another hall as she ran for the elevator, holding her dress to her breasts because she’d been unable to zip it all the way. Her mother had zipped it earlier, and Gypsy had been unable to finish pulling the tab up in Rule’s room.

She’d had to wait on the elevator in the hall, too aware of the Breeds striding toward her, silent, suspicious as they most often were. Struggling not to sob in agony, she’d stood with her head down, burning with humiliation as they moved silently to stand in front of her while she pressed her back into the wall.

She didn’t want them to see that her dress wasn’t zipped, but when the elevator doors had slid open, they had stepped back and she knew they’d wait until hell froze over if she didn’t step in first.

Keeping her head down, she had done just that, moving to the corner of the car before turning and staring at the floor.

No one had spoken.

She didn’t even know if she knew the Breeds. She couldn’t bear to look them in the face. If she knew one of them, she wouldn’t be able to hold back the humiliation and the pain. It would have poured from her eyes in such grief that she wouldn’t have been able to stand it.

“We’re on our way down, sir,” she heard one of them answer, the link she supposed. “We’ll meet with you at the west elevators if you don’t mind.”

Everyone referred to Rule as Commander, so it wasn’t him. Not that Rule would care, she thought. No way in hell would he really care whether he drove her home or not.

What had she done?

How had she managed to mess it up?

Was there some unwritten rule she was unaware of when it came to orgasming? Had she done something so unforgivable as to cause him to jump from her before he even finished his release and rush to the shower?

She lifted her fingers to her lips to still the threat of trembling. She was not going to cry over him here, in front of other Breeds who would no doubt tell him. Breeds who would laugh with him over the stupid little human who couldn’t hold her emotions back.

That must have been what it was.

As her release had whipped through her, she remembered fighting to hold back the words she knew he wouldn’t want to hear. Had he somehow sensed how deeply she was coming to love him without her saying the words?

Shame burned inside her, blazed through her cheeks and burned a path straight to her soul. And she knew the Breeds in the elevator could smell it.

Who else would know once the elevator came to a stop in the lobby?

God, she hoped the journalists were gone. She couldn’t bear to be seen like this.

The elevator slid to a stop, the subtle
ping
announcing the end of the ride sounding as the doors slid open.

She moved quickly from it, striding across the lobby with what she hoped wasn’t obvious hurry. If she was lucky, very very lucky, then no one would even notice her.

...

There was no missing the smell of pain that agonizing, Lawe thought as he and Diane watched the elevator doors slide open. They had stepped to the bank of elevators less than a minute after the enforcer had contacted him with the strangely worded request that he meet him there.

He and Diane watched as Gypsy McQuade stepped from the doors the second they slid open, her shoulders shaking as she held her dress to her breasts and moved quickly for the lobby exit.

“Sir.” The Wolf Breed, Dagger, stepped forward, a hard frown on his face. “Commander Breaker didn’t notify security of his mate, and it seems she’s in some distress.”