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Damn him, he kissed like a fucking sex god. Like her greatest fantasy. He had done what others had failed to do. His kiss had only fueled her need. Then he had done what two other lovers hadn’t even managed to come close to. He’d sent her into orgasm. And he had managed it with only his kiss and his fingers. Other men hadn’t even been able to do it, no matter the grunting efforts they’d put into it.
SHE WAS GLARING at him.
Creed narrowed his eyes as he tried to read her expression.
It was impossible.
For the first time since he had become her bodyguard, Creed could not tell, by her expression alone, what she was thinking. But there was enough emotion rolling off her for him to guess by scent alone. And there wasn’t enough anger to save her.
She should be furious. Ahead of the subtle scent of arousal still coursing through her, she should be raging at him. Which would only make the arousal hotter, build higher.
Instead, she was, first and foremost, aroused; behind that, he sensed irritation and confusion.
The confused part, he shared. Because all things considered, she was truly rather rational. Especially considering the fact that she was now in mating heat.
Just as he was. He’d had her kiss, he’d had her orgasm, but he was still vicious hard, his dick throbbing with furious hunger. It was the most intense need he had ever known. Since the moment his lips had touched her, since he had felt the warmth of her inner lips, the mating hormone had begun to build in the glands beneath his tongue.
It was more than an itch now. It was a burn, an arousal far deeper than it had been before the mating heat had kicked in.
“I don’t like that look on your face,” she muttered as he continued to watch her silently, to draw in the unique scents of her.
He arched his brow, unwilling to allow her into his thoughts just yet. To give her a chance to learn how deep his need for her went when he was beginning to grow very concerned over what the next few days would bring.
“And what do you mean, we’re not going back just yet? That’s why Dad sent you after me, correct?”
She wasn’t calling her father “Daddy” any longer. And each time she said “Dad” instead, the scent of disillusionment drifted toward him.
Every emotion had a scent, and to the Breed senses, they were easily detectable.
Disillusionment was a scent that clashed with her innocence, her compassion. It was a dark scent of sulfur subtly underlying the sweetest, softest scent of a spring rain, the scent of her arousal. It was there, though, and it pissed him off.
“Cabin fever does crazy things to a person.” He shrugged as he watched her carefully. “It’s my opinion that perhaps you need a few days’ vacation. A chance to relieve some tension.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. But he wasn’t about to tell her that he and his boss were leading her father to believe she’d been kidnapped.
“He doesn’t know you’re a Breed, does he?” Her lips pursed mockingly.
Amusement joined the other scents, just the slightest hint of it.
“No, he wasn’t aware of it.”
“What about the men you were working with?”
His brow arched. “I didn’t tell them.”
He hadn’t had to tell them. They were part of the Bureau of Breed Affairs; Jonas had likely told them. If not, then it wouldn’t have been hard for them to guess simply because Creed had been working with them for so damned long.
Kita shook her head in amusement, an amusement he could easily read on her expression this time.
“You don’t hate Breeds,” he commented.
She rose from her chair and moved languidly across the room before turning and leaning against the door frame and staring back at him. “I never hated Breeds, Creed. They didn’t ask for what was done to them. They were born into it.”
Created into it, Creed corrected her silently. They had been created into this world, and trained rather than raised, to be killers.
He nodded slowly. Over the year he’d been in her home, he had seen that in her. She’d been waiting, watching, neither trusting nor distrusting the Breeds. She had paid careful attention to news stories and discussions, and at odd times had seemed to be studying her father, essentially observing him in the act of just being a father.
“And now you’ve kissed one,” he said softly. “Come in the arms of one. What do you think now?”
