"I'm not scared," she a.s.sured him. "But I can feel them. They're watching now."

She couldn't feel their emotions, just a sense of being watched, of being targeted.

"My men are waiting for them too." He moved from where he stood by the doorway, pacing over to the coffeepot and pulling two cups from the cabinet. "We need to eat. I want you at your best tonight and before you go over those pictures. Your system moves more slowly when it's hungry."

The words were very domesticated. The man moving around her kitchen wasn't. She could see the tense lines of his shoulders, the prepared readiness of his body. He was on full alert.

He poured her coffee and sat it on the table, waving at her to sit down before he turned back to the counter. As she watched him and sipped the dark liquid, he put together a quick meal of eggs, sausage and toast. Eating was a silent affair as Megan fought to find balance. Again.

She could handle the danger. The chase the day before had been exhilarating, despite the chances of death. Pitting her wits against those bigger and tougher than she was and coming out on the winning team was a high she found she craved. But that dream had thrown her as nothing else had so far. The knowledge that someone she knew could kill so cruelly was tearing her apart.

"I need to dress." She pushed her plate back, satisfied that she had nearly finished the huge portion he had put out for her.

"Go on. Shower while you're at it." He nodded to the doorway. "I'll make a few more calls and we'll go through the pictures when you come back down."

"You're trying to protect me." She sighed wearily as she came to her feet, staring back at him as he came toward her. She watched his expression closely as he reached out, his fingers caressing her cheek.

"A different sort of protection," he a.s.sured her gently, his voice rumbling with emotion. "I can feel your confusion; h.e.l.l, I can see it. And your pain. It_" His gaze flickered with a small amount of his own confusion.

"It affects me, Megan. I would kill to hold back what I see haunting your eyes. It breaks my heart."

He was breaking her heart. Her throat tightened at the emotion in his voice, the sincerity. The bonds holding them to each other were only deepening. Tightening. And rather than running as she had always done in the past, she wanted nothing more than to rest in his arms. Just one more time, before fate had a chance to tear him away from her.

The thought of that terrified her.

She nodded without speaking and escaped. She needed silence. She needed to feel alone, unwatched. She needed a shower, because as sure as she was standing there, she had finally realized why the grief from that female Breed, Aimee, had been so strong. And it made her sick to the very core of her soul, because she was terribly afraid she wasn't wrong about the face materializing in her memory.

Mac Cooley. Her father's best friend. And Aimee's rapist as well as, most likely, the reason for her death.

Chapter Nineteen.

He could feel her crying.

Braden stood at the kitchen counter, his arms braced on the edge, his head hanging low as he fought the tightness in his chest.

She was breaking his heart and she didn't even know it.

h.e.l.l, he hadn't imagined this could happen, but he could feel her pain. There were no blocks, no shields strong enough to allow him to escape it. Just as he had felt her elation, her triumph during the chase the day before, now he felt her grief, He had never allowed himself to let others' emotions in. Staying separate, keeping that part of him unhindered had been imperative if he was going to survive in a world where littermates were killed in front of your eyes, and depravity was the norm rather than the unusual.

But he couldn't escape his mate.

Whatever the dream had been, it was such a shock to her mind that recovering from it was now taking all her strength.

He had felt her need to escape him, the need for silence, and had allowed it. This had been hard enough on her, but now that the truth was so near. she was off balance, unwilling to accept whatever truths she had been shown.

An Empath's dreams were rarely pretty. No matter how hard one tried to block the darkest parts of a human's thoughts and fears, it never fully worked. At least, not for a human Empath. The natural shields the Breeds had been born with, courtesy of their animal DNA, changed the rules just a bit for them. Megan had none of those natural blocks. Her senses were getting stronger though.

She had become aware of the eyes watching the house as she stared beyond the window, whereas before she had been blessedly ignorant of them. And Braden had allowed that ignorance, certain it would serve her better to be comfortable rather than always on guard.

He grimaced tightly as he fought to keep from going to her. It was a wasted battle and he knew it. He could no more keep from attempting to comfort her than he could keep from breathing.

He pulled his cell phone from the holder at his side and quickly punched in the secured line to the team leader outside.

'Tarek." The voice that came over the line was a surprise. "Your a.s.s should be back in Fayetteville." Braden smiled. "Keeping your mate warm. Does she know you're playing?"

Tarek laughed. Laughter was something he had rarely heard from the other man until he found his mate.

"She's safe and sound with her family at Sanctuary visiting with Callan's and Taber's wives while the brothers coordinate with the security forces there."

"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 helijet 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.

G.o.d 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s, 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 s.e.m.e.n compatible to breeding without Mating. And Mating required something those b.a.s.t.a.r.d 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 a.s.surance 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s and whispered across her nipples.

Her response was immediate, hot. A small moan drifted past his lips, spearing straight to his c.o.c.k 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 c.l.i.t.

The swollen little bud was so responsive that each lick around it sent her inner juices flowing against his fingers as he ma.s.saged 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 p.u.s.s.y, 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. G.o.d, she tasted sweet. And so f.u.c.king 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 h.e.l.l, so was he.

As he caressed her c.l.i.t, his finger delved into her p.u.s.s.y, 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 o.r.g.a.s.m building as her p.u.s.s.y clenched and spasmed around his finger. d.a.m.n, 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 c.l.i.t harder against his tongue as he sucked at the little bud.

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

Her c.u.n.t tightened on each retreat of his fingers, milked him back in with each entrance.

"Braden. Oh G.o.d. Braden, let me come." Her voice was husky and rich with hunger.

He murmured softly against her cream-coated flesh, his tongue flickering her c.l.i.t, 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 c.o.c.k 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 c.l.i.t swelled, pulsed. Her scream of release echoed around him. A final sucking pressure at her c.l.i.t to ensure he had given her maximum satisfaction before he pulled back quickly, removing his fingers and driving his tongue inside her weeping p.u.s.s.y.

She screamed again as he licked. Her hips jerked violently as the next o.r.g.a.s.m tore through her. He licked and probed, filling his senses with her taste, her pleasure, before jerking to his feet, aligning his c.o.c.k 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 f.u.c.ked 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 p.u.s.s.y as his c.o.c.k 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 G.o.d only knew how much time had pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sion, with a renewed sadness. "I can't accept it, Braden."

The heaviness in her voice tore at him. G.o.d, 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. G.o.d, 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. G.o.d above have mercy. He couldn't imagine living with the knowledge that some b.a.s.t.a.r.d 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.