As Dog straightened from his position, his eyes narrowed, flicking to the apartment upstairs thoughtfully, before he shook his head and led the way to the Dragoon. Rule slid into the passenger seat, propping his arm on the window frame as he stared pensively into the darkness while the Coyote pulled back onto the street and headed out of town.
He ran his tongue over his teeth again, just to be certain. He had a hard-on raging in his jeans that pounded in lust, but no true signs of Mating Heat.
“Cigar?” Dog extended the pack of thin cigars to him, his tone only mildly curious.
Rule accepted the cigar, then the pack of old-fashioned matches the Coyote carried.
Inhaling the sweet burn of the tobacco, Rule let the specially blended essence seep into his senses as the Coyote lit his own.
The window beside him eased down marginally to allow the exhaled smoke to escape as the Dragoon made its way through the streets of Window Rock at a legal speed.
Inhaling another draw of the cigar, Rule forced his senses to calm, his body to ease, but the hard-on straining his zipper refused to soften or relax in any way.
Damn, it had been all he could do to pull back from her. The need to strip the clothes from her exquisite little body had been almost more than he could control. He wanted to bury his c**k inside the slick, hot little channel that beckoned him so bad it was like a fever inside him.
God help them both if it was Mating Heat, because he wouldn’t, he couldn’t allow it.
“I don’t smell the Heat, just your arousal. And perhaps her release?” There was an edge of amusement to the Coyote’s tone at the last observation.
“That would be none of your business, Dog,” Rule assured him before bringing the cigar to his lips once again and inhaling.
“A mating, or her release? You may have to clarify which you would want my opinion on,” Dog informed him with his normal sarcastic humor.
Rule turned his head and simply stared at him, knowing the other Breed and his propensity to create chaos wherever possible. Especially within the lives of those he claimed as friends.
“Ah, the release part.” He nodded, though the smile that tugged at his lips assured Rule that didn’t mean he would keep his observations to himself. “Still, there’s no scent of Mating Heat.”
Rule restrained a sigh of relief.
“I’ve often wondered, though,” Dog continued just when Rule was beginning to hope the Breed wasn’t in a troublemaking frame of mind.
“What exactly have you wondered, Dog?” he asked, enjoying the bite of the cigar again and preparing himself to hold back his temper. It was hard telling what would pop out of that Breed’s mouth.
“Why you’re so damned skittish about Mating Heat? Most Breeds bitch about it, joke about it and secretly long for it. You, on the other hand, are more than serious about running in the opposite direction should you encounter it. Why?”
Why?
Rule knew why. Just as he knew he wasn’t in the mood to discuss it.
“If you don’t smell the scent of Mating Heat, then don’t worry about it,” he warned the other Breed.
“Should I worry about it if I sense Mating Heat?” Dog asked then, though the humor in his tone had scaled back immensely.
Should another Breed worry about it?
“Only if you want to die,” Rule warned him.
A chuckle whispered through the vehicle as Dog turned it toward the hotel after pulling away from town.
“You know, several Breed scientists theorize that if a mating isn’t complete, then should the Breed part of the equation remove themselves from the mate’s vicinity, it’s possible that another Breed could come in and complete the bond. Especially if the substitute Breed is a blood relation of the true mate.”
Rule remained silent. He’d heard that; Jonas had explained it to him in great detail actually when they’d feared that Rule’s brother, Lawe, would deny the heat between him and his mate, Diane Broen.
Lawe had always felt his mate shouldn’t be another Breed, or a warrior of any kind. He’d always felt a mate weaker than himself was what he needed. One who would be content to be protected within the confines of Sanctuary while Lawe stepped into a less dangerous role of security enforcement.
Instead, Lawe’s mate should have been a Breed. She was a warrioress who commanded her own team of men and did so with exceptional ability.
“It’s just a thought,” Dog said then.