“We have a breech.” Dawn’s voice was low, steady and calm, but Taber could hear the horror that backed each word. “We’re compromised, Taber.”

Each man had received the same transmission. Silent as the night, as deadly as the animals their DNA mixed with, the men surged up the stairs. They caught the first four outside Callan’s room as they were opening the door. The assassins never knew what hit them.

Taber wrapped his arm around the neck of one and twisted with a sharp, deadly move that resulted in the muted satisfying crunch. The others fell the same way, only to be pushed aside as Taber opened the door slowly.

He went in at a crouch, throttling his roar of triumph as they met the other group of would-be assassins in the middle of the room. Their eyes widened in surprise at the force they met as they turned to make their escape. At the same time, Kane’s men stepped through the balcony entrance.

“Oh look, Callan, they want to play,” Taber drawled as one raised his weapon. It was shot out of his hands before he could pull the trigger.

“Keep the women in there, Sherra.” Callan’s voice was cold, deadly, as he stepped farther into the room and smiled the cold smile of death Taber had rarely seen on his face. “Hello, gentlemen. If you had knocked, we could have conversed civilly,” he stated a bit too mildly. “Your entrance into my home has left much to be desired.”

Taber lowered his weapon as Callan handed his off to him. “Tell me, Taber, what should we do with such rude guests? Make nice, or have a late night snack?”

Taber allowed the snarl curling his lips to rumble through his chest. There was no mistaking the wary looks the assassins were now giving them.

“I missed dinner,” Taber said clearly. “How about a snack?”

The four men jumped in startled surprise as twelve fully grown Feline Breed males growled in hungry menace.

“Wait.” One of them spoke nervously, holding his hands out, his gun held in a clearly non-threatening

manner as he laid it on the floor. “No harm, no foul…”

“No harm, no foul?” Callan asked mildly as he eyed the gun on the floor before raising his head to stare at the man with brooding fury. “Wrong. You broke into my home, attempted to harm my woman, and you think you’re just going to walk out of here?”

“We’re just doing our job.” One shook his head desperately. “Come on, Lyons, you’ve always let us go before.”

Taber recognized the voice. One of the mercenaries who had been sent home in defeat years before, smarting from the lazy, amused chase Callan had given him.

“The rules changed, Brighton,” Callan snapped. “You don’t just walk away anymore.”

“Callan, we question them first.” Kane moved into the room, watching the Breeds warily. “You know the score.”

“I know they’re dead.” It was as though the very air itself stilled with that announcement. There was no mercy in Callan’s voice, no weakness. “We’ll send them back to their owners in pieces. Isn’t that how they sent back our scout last month?”

Taber’s jaw tightened at the memory of it.

The four assassins shifted nervously within the room.

“Come on,” Callan dared them. “Show me what you’re made of. Personally, I smell the stink of a coward.”

“Callan…” Taber warned him carefully. “Step back, man. This is no time for mistakes.”

The mistake being an accidental death. “Think of Merinus and the babe. She would have to go on without you.”

“Callan.” Her voice was faint, frightened.

“Kane, get this shit out of here. Lock them up with the other bastard you’re holding until the garbage runs. We’ll send them out then. Maybe in pieces.”

It was a threat that pushed the intruders into action. A flare of brilliant light pierced the darkness, blinding them as the assassins made their bid for freedom. Weapons were dropped as the Breeds used senses well honed from years in captivity. They couldn’t see, but they could smell, hear and taste the evil flowing around them.

Taber’s knife cleared its sheath at his side as he reached the first man. The weapon sliced through flesh, severing the jugular vein. Blood sprayed around him as he dropped his enemy to the floor and turned for another. The brilliancy of the light had dissipated and he came face to face with Roni’s horror-filled expression.

Rage and grief filled him because he knew what he looked like. He knew, because he had seen Callan in a similar rage. His canines were bared, blood covering the lower part of his face, his chest. Another

man’s blood. The animal gloried in the scent of it; the feel of his enemy’s defeat, the knowledge that this time, Taber had been victorious. But the man he was screamed out in rage against the fates, the cruelties, and the single instant that his mate had seen the carnage and the animal within. The agonized roar that echoed through the house was one of rage, pain and a protest against the realities of a life never asked for, never imagined. A protest against the loss of innocence he glimpsed in Roni’s eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The roar was unlike anything Roni had ever seen or heard. She stared at Taber in shock as his head went back, his chest expanded and the primal sound of rage and anguish ripped from his throat. Everyone stilled. The assassins lay dead. There had been no mercy. Roni hadn’t expected any. But neither had she expected to see the bitter, raging pain in Taber’s eyes as he dropped the assailant, either. Blood covered him, staining his cheek, his neck, the black cloth of his shirt, and running in a rivulet along the hardwood floor beneath his feet.

God help her, how was she to ease so much pain? She wanted to run to him, to clean the blood from him and whisper how thankful she was that he lived, but she was held rooted to the floor, tears whispering down her cheeks as she witnessed the one thing she knew Taber would not have wanted her to see.

As the sound of his fury echoed around them, his head lowered, his green eyes glittering with an intensity she had never witnessed before and an expression that terrified her. His legs ate the distance between them as he moved to her, gripping her wrist and jerking her along behind him as he headed for the door.

“Taber…” Callan’s protest was cut off when Taber turned back to him with a snarl so threatening, so demanding, that the other man stood back, shaking his head in regret.

“Dammit, Callan, stop him.” Merinus’ voice was filled with fear as Roni was pulled from the room. No one would stop Taber. No one could stop him now if they wanted to. Violence and lust swirled around him, tightening his body as the animal surged ever closer to the surface. Roni didn’t even try to stop him. She followed him, nearly running to keep from being dragged behind him, her heart thundering in her chest, shock ripping its way through her body.

He had barely caught the assassin before the other man let loose on the trigger of the submachine gun he held. The bullets would have ripped through the bathroom at that angle, possibly killing them all. She remembered all too clearly watching the knife slice through human flesh, the hatred and surprise on the other man’s face as his gaze locked with hers.

Taber pulled her into the bedroom, slamming the door behind them before he turned to her. She didn’t have time to gasp before he ripped the shirt from her back, leaving her breasts bare, nipples hard, as he worked at the closure on his jeans.

“Taber…” She didn’t know what to say. What to do.

“Mine.” He bared his teeth as he pushed his jeans over his hips, freeing the thick, desperate erection

they had contained.

She whimpered as he reached for her. The sweatpants were stripped from her, the legs ripping as he managed to free her from the material. He braced her against the padded arm of the couch, lifted her leg and thrust hard and heavy inside the sensitive depths of her pussy. Roni arched in his arms, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as pleasure seared her body, even as pain lashed at her heart. Her gaze was locked with his and in it she saw the bitter fury and anguish no man should have to bear. Blood stained his face, his neck. His eyes glittered with remorse, with hunger.

“Roni…” His voice was strangled as he paused, buried to the hilt within her, a small measure of sanity replacing the bleak horror in his eyes. “Roni…”

She covered his lips, her fingers trembling.

“Feel how wet I am for you,” she whispered with a sad smile. “How much I love you inside me, however you need me, whenever you need me.”

Tears filled her eyes as he blinked down at her. Part of the feral intensity had faded, leaving instead an overwhelming sadness.

“He would have killed me and possibly Merinus as well,” she whispered a second before he moved, his hips jerking convulsively, causing his cock to stroke the tender depths of her pussy with hard demand. “I love you, Taber. All of you,” she cried out then. “I love you…”

He groaned. A low, heavy sound filled with remorse, with thankfulness. He gathered her against him, cushioning her head on the unsoiled shoulder as his hands gripped her buttocks, his cock moving inside her.

Long, slow strokes caressed the inner heat of her cunt as he kissed her throat, her neck. His thighs bunched, his back tensed, but still the deliberately careful movements never slowed.

“Mine,” he whispered again. “My woman. My love.”

His thrusts increased then, his breath coming hard and heavy, his hips driving the fierce erection as deep, as hard as he could as she clenched his shoulders, her legs wrapping around his hips, holding on for dear life as she felt her climax begin breaking over her.

Seconds later, she felt him locking inside her, heard his groan, his hungry little growl, then the hard, heated blasts of his semen spurting in the tight depths of her pussy.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her neck, his face damp—though with tears or his own sweat, she wasn’t certain. “I am so sorry you had to see what I am.”

“No, Taber.” Her hands smoothed over his hair, his shoulders. “Never be sorry. I love everything you are. All of you.”

* * * * *

Such acceptance should not have been possible. Taber stood under the hot spray of water, his eyes closed, his mind slowly clearing of the blood rage he had felt when he had seen that bastard ready to fire off a submachine gun in the women’s direction. Helping to wash it away was Roni, her hands tender as she cleaned him thoroughly. She had washed the blood from his hair, his face, and had then proceeded to clean every inch of his body with the silken comfort of soap and cloth. Hot steam and the scent of soap filled the large shower cubicle. The sounds of water rushing over him and Roni’s soft hum whispered over his mind. With each rinse and careful soaping of his body, he felt more of the rage rinsing from his soul as well. With it came an incredible dragging weariness. He wanted nothing more than to curl up beside her and sleep. But there was so much left to do.

“All done,” she whispered gently as she kissed his shoulder, her hands smoothing over his wet flesh, stroking him as the involuntary purr began to sound in his chest. He flinched at the sound.

“Shh.” She cuddled against his chest, kissing it, her soft licks immeasurably tender. “Do you know how much I love that sound? How much I love knowing I pleasure you? Comfort you?”

His eyes were closed against the melting pleasure seeping through him. He had never been taken care of. Ever. And here she was, so small and gentle, her voice whispering over him, her hands soothing him, taking away almost three decades of pain as she whispered her love for him.

“They can’t take you,” he suddenly groaned as emotion tore from him, his arms contracting around her, holding her close to his chest. “I couldn’t live without your touch, without your heat and passion, Roni.”

His throat felt tight from the feelings sweeping over him. “I would rather die than face such a thing.”