Lora Leigh - Primal

Stacey was one of the girlfriends that came to the house often. A redheaded spitfire with more courage than good sense sometimes. Beth, on the other hand, was normally practical, though easygoing.

“And what does Stacey say it is?” he asked.

The amusement slowly filtered from her eyes. “An armed camp,” she said sadly. “A place filled with tension and combat-ready at all times.”

It was interesting to hear the two had bet at opposite ends of their character spectrum.

“Then they both lost.” He gave her a smile he hoped would comfort the distress he saw in her gaze. It was one of the things he loved about her, he realized. Her compassion. A compassion neither her father nor her uncle possessed.

“Sanctuary is always prepared, it’s secured. We have teams of enforcers that are constantly on guard, but, for the most part, it’s more like a large community.”

“Until it’s attacked,” she guessed.

Creed gave a short nod. “Until it’s attacked. But we’re trained for this Kita. We know how to react, and we know how to fight back.”

“And those you’ve brought in who don’t know how to fight?” she asked softly. “Your wives? What do they do, Creed?”

Did she want to be a Breed wife? There was a flash of hope and concern in her gaze, as though she had given the question a lot of thought but needed more in-depth information.

“They’re protected,” he promised her. “Every Breed in Sanctuary, whether it be male or female, feline, wolf, or coyote, dedicates his life to protecting the wives and children if an attack is launched.” He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek as his thumb caressed her lower lip. “Love is something we dare never take for granted, Kita. Even those who haven’t yet felt the fire of that emotion know that they long for it. They would give their lives to ensure that a Breed mate is completely protected.”

“A mate,” she whispered. “What does it take, Creed, to be a Breed’s mate?”

She spoke against his thumb, her dark brown eyes becoming sensual, slumberous as her body softened further against him.

“Love. That’s all it takes, Kita. The only difference is, Breeds love the first time, for all time. Just as our genetic cousins do.” He was dying to kiss her. The hormone filled his mouth like a particularly spicy aphrodisiac, demanding he share. Until he kissed her, until he forced the hormone into her system, it would only grow worse.

God, if it became worse, he didn’t know if he could bear it. It was an agony now. Like a brutal flame burning in his loins, threatening his self-control.

And it wasn’t that he hadn’t had her. They’d spent the past two days fucking like minks. She’d been exhausted when he’d carried her to the porch after fixing the decaf coffee he thanked God she drank. The caffeinated brew was like an accelerant to mating heat in both males and females. He didn’t think he could bear to have anything intensify it. She wouldn’t be safe with him if it became worse.

“Just love.” Her head turned, her lips pressing to the bare flesh the unbuttoned portion of his shirt revealed. “What if your mate doesn’t love for life, Creed? If they’re human? Some humans are very fickle, you know.”

His lips quirked at the reminder. Ah yes, humans could be fickle, as could Breeds in some instances. They weren’t so different.

But the question she posed was damned tricky for him.

“There hasn’t been a problem yet,” was the only answer he could give her.

And apparently, it was the wrong one. Suspicion darkened her eyes. “Is there any truth to the tabloid stories about a mating hormone?” There was no fear in her gaze, just curiosity, suspicion.

“You know how the tabloids are, Kita,” he tried to scoff, but went no further.

Creed refused to lie to his mate.

As a covert enforcer, he was used to lying. He had to lie to maintain whatever façade was required for the job. At times, even his name changed, his eye color, his hair color. At times, he’d wondered if he even knew who he was anymore. But that was before he’d walked into Kita’s life.

“I know how they are,” she admitted softly. “And I know you. You’re avoiding my question, Creed. What are you not telling me?”

He almost smiled. As he’d said before, she was damned intuitive. And it appeared she had paid more attention to him over the past year than he would have perhaps wished.

“There are differences with the Breeds,” he finally admitted. “Things I’d prefer we discuss later.”

He felt her tense. An air of hurt descended around her as her gaze took on a wounded look.

“Later as opposed to now in what way?” She was drawing away from him and he couldn’t bear that.

The animal inside him was snarling in fury. First, he’d refused her the mating kiss more than once, then he’d sheathed his cock and prevented his body from locking inside her.

He was defying every natural instinct that his species lived and breathed for. Mating. The bonding of his life to another, the gift that would come to him only once, as far as the Breeds knew. And now, he was allowing her to distance herself, to pull away.

His arms tightened around her involuntarily, a part of his mind, his Breed senses, refusing to release her despite the fact that he knew it was best for both of them.

She stared back at him for long moments, her gaze a silent accusation.

“That’s why you haven’t kissed me again,” she finally stated knowingly. “Because it does exist, and for whatever reason you’ve decided I’m not good enough for whatever your mating is?”

His eyes widened. “Have you fucking lost your mind?” Grating, filled with frustrated surprise, the question slipped past his lips.

“Have you ?” Her eyes narrowed back at him, heavy, thick lashes shadowing her cheeks as brown ire sparked back at him. “Do you think I’m so easy to manipulate and control that I wouldn’t notice you’ve not kissed me again? That despite the fact that conception only occurs with mates , you still use a condom. There are no STDs you can give me because Breeds are not susceptible to normal human diseases and viruses. Do you even fucking get a cold?” Her voice rose marginally.

She was angry. He could feel it in her, see it in the spark in her eyes.

“No, we don’t.” His head lowered until they were glaring at each other, nearly nose to nose now in a confrontation he hadn’t expected. “No colds, no STDs, no fucking flu. Anything else?”

“Plenty,” she snapped. “But as you’re suddenly refusing to answer the important questions, then I’m only wasting my time.” Her nose lifted as though she were offended by some smell. “And I do have this thing about wasting my time.”

She moved to rise from him, to leave his arms, to deny him the warmth of her, the comfort, when mating heat was like a fatal wound destroying him from the inside out.

“Then you can waste a little more of it.” Wrapping one arm around her, he lifted, turned, flipped the lever that completely lowered the back of the padded lounger before trapping her beneath his much larger body.

The chill of the fall air swirled around them as his hands gripped her wrists and pulled them above her head to clasp them with the fingers of one hand.

Straining against him, she glared back at him, frustration now anger as she attempted to drive her knee between his thighs, only to have him twist and smoothly maneuver his heavier thighs between hers, opening her to him as he snarled down at her in a warning growl.

It was a primal, desperate measure that slipped free of his control. The man and the animal trapped inside him warred, both savage in their determination to protect their mate in their way. To claim her as each felt she should be claimed.