She doubted very seriously that anything about Rule Breaker needed any work. But she let him draw her to the dance floor and assured herself that the continued ache in her chest had nothing to do with the earlier conversation or the implications of it.
...
“Well?” Diane demanded as the couple moved far enough away from them that there wasn’t a chance Rule could hear their conversation.
Lawe liked that about her. She understood he wasn’t just hers, that he was Rule’s brother, Jonas’s friend. That he was an enforcer as well as a role model to the newly freed Breeds. There was never any jealousy in her as he’d often scented from the wives of the human males he’d met over the years.
She encouraged his friendships, pushed him to have hobbies and often chided him for not resting enough.
And he was delaying answering her and he knew it.
“I’ll be damned if it makes sense.” He shook his head, careful to keep his voice low as he spoke.
“What doesn’t make sense?” she asked, frowning back at Rule and Gypsy. “At first thought, there’s not a chance they would suit each other. A good-time party girl? Who knew she was such an excellent social image developer?”
“She’s not his mate,” Lawe stated softly, sadly even.
Diane stilled, then turned back to him in shock. “Are you certain?”
Lawe continued to watch his brother and the woman resting in his arms as they swayed to the music.
“She carries his scent,” he frowned, trying to make sense of it. “But it could be because they’re lovers, nothing more. There are no similar scents of lust. With mates, there’s a scent they share, whether its lust, love or some other emotion that develops into love. They don’t share it.”
Diane turned back and watched the couple as well. “If she’s not in love with him, then she’s falling.”
Was she? There was definitely something there, but Lawe couldn’t make sense of what it was.
He’d drawn their scents in countless times, and each time he’d done so he’d sworn he’d sensed Rule’s senses drawing further away from him. As though the animal part of him were hiding.
But why do that? What would it serve Rule or his senses to weaken themselves in such a way? What could be so important that the animal felt the need to hide it?
A sudden suspicion slipped into his mind, causing his eyes to widen.
“What?” His lovely mate turned back to him, frowning as she stared up at him. “You’ve thought of something?”
He shook his head slowly. Son of a bitch, why hadn’t he figured it out sooner? “I know my brother.”
“Meaning?”
She knew him, his lovely mate, and she knew how it bothered him when he’d felt Rule drawing so far away from him when they’d first arrived in Window Rock, and then especially so when Rule had offered to trade mates with him, when there was no mating scent on him.
“She has a very subtle, barely there, unique scent that I can’t place. Rule’s senses are suddenly shuttered, as though the animal part of his genetics is hiding from me. Or perhaps from any Breed senses, period.”
“I’m getting impatient, Lawe.” She sighed and he had to grin. She was dying to know if Gypsy McQuade was Rule’s mate.
“She’s his mate, but he’s not mating her,” he explained, wanting to laugh at the chances that Rule’s animal could actually act in a manner so separate from the man it inhabited.
“You’re not making sense.” She shook her head.
“Rule’s determined he’ll never risk a woman as Elder risked our mother,” he explained, sobering at the thought of Morningstar Martinez’s horrific death. “The thought of ever facing even the chance of losing someone so important as a mate has him stubbornly determined to ensure that if he ever senses her, he has the option of running as fast and as far from her as possible.”
“I know all this, Lawe,” she drawled. “Get to the punch line already.”
“The punch line?” He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to his chest as he danced her onto the dance floor, carefully staying clear of Rule as he spoke. “Rule’s animal senses his mate. The animal is determined to possess her, to own her heart, but knows that should Rule consciously realize what she is to him, he’s going to run.”
“So basically, the animal, or his subconscious instincts, is hiding the fact that she’s his mate?” she asked, disbelief coloring her voice.
“Exactly.” It was simply all he could do not to laugh at the position his brother had managed to find himself in. “No one can convince Rule she’s his mate, because the animal is holding the mating back until there’s no way Rule can run from her. Only then, only when he has no other choice, will his animal instincts snap back into place and initiate the Mating Heat.”
“Mind over matter,” she breathed out, shocked far deeper than Lawe himself was.
“Pure stubborn will,” Lawe amended, stroking his hand down his mate’s back, feeling the heat, the warmth of her, and knowing that if he lost her, he’d follow her as soon as he sought vengeance for her.
There was no way he would be able to survive the never-ending hell of existing without her.
“So, how do you intend to make him realize he can’t run from her, or deny her any longer?” Pure anticipation filled her voice.
“Bloodthirsty wench,” he chuckled, bending his head to brush a kiss against the mating mark, which a wide collar-style necklace of gleaming silver hid. When his head rose, he knew that his own satisfaction filled his gaze. “For the moment, I’m just going to watch him bury himself in the hole he’s making. Once he’s realized what he’s done, I want to sit back and enjoy the show.”
He simply couldn’t help it. Rule had pushed him, prodded him, enraged the Lion inside him and generally had Lawe ready to kill him as he fought to accept the woman he had mated. Dealing with his brother and his own instincts hadn’t been easy, and Lawe had sworn that when he had the chance, he was going to make sure Rule suffered his own mating hell.
CHAPTER 13
She fit him.
The odd thought drifted through his mind as he danced with Gypsy, the slow, gliding steps of the waltz suddenly making sense as they moved together.
She did this with the same grace and sensuality that she danced to that country tune in black leather, or the vintage rock in a white lace skirt and cowboy boots. With such inherent eroticism that his balls tightened with the need to spill his release and ease the granite hardness of his cock.
Tonight, he was determined to have her. His suite was ready, clean sheets graced the bed, candles were lit and ready for the moment he entered the room with her. A bottle of her favorite wine was chilling and he was hard enough to fuck her for hours without softening.
She had orgasmed in his arms, her juices spilling over his fingers as he held her to him in her apartment. He understood that going further would have been far too soon. He sensed she was only now learning that such pleasure could exist. That she could shake with the need for his touch, plead for her release.
He intended to show her far more tonight.
He’d gone to Jonas as soon as he’d asked Dawn why Gypsy was so damned upset over a dress. Her laughing chastisement that he had ruined a chance she felt her mother and even perhaps she had possessed to make a certain impression had been the explanation that suddenly made sense.
They were image and social building professionals. Having their pictures premiere in the right places would of course be important to aid the growth of her parents’ business. To do that, a certain look would have to be achieved; somehow, by reputation, standing, wealth or a unique dress, they would have to be noticed. She had felt he had taken her chance to be noticed.