“I know what that shit smells like.” He grimaced. He knew only too well. “She’s not drugged.”

Simon moved to the bed while Kiowa felt every muscle in his body tense in objection to the other man going anywhere near her.

She shifted on the bed again, the blanket moving with her splayed, bound legs as her breasts heaved beneath it. He tightened his jaw, gritting his teeth as another wave of heat washed over him. Simon reached for the blanket.

The warning growl that came from Kiowa’s throat was accompanied by a snarl. He knew what the others saw. Curved canines flashing at the side of his mouth as he moved quickly to push Simon out of the way.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” The low, rumbling sound of his voice shocked him as much as it did Simon.

“This is a problem, Kiowa.” He frowned then, his blue eyes flashing in anger. “If she dies, we’re up shit creek.”

“She’s not going to die,” he snapped, certain of that fact.

“Kiowa, pay attention here,” Simon spoke with sarcastic patience. “You’re not a stupid man. Look at her. Something is fucking wrong with her.”

“Goddammit I know that,” he shot back, frustration eating at him. “The same fucking thing is wrong with me, now get the hell off my back.”

He paced to the end of the bed. Bad idea. The smell of her arousal was like a punch to his gut. Something was wrong, and damned if it wasn’t killing him too.

“Call him.” He turned on Simon again. “Now!”

Simon’s eyes widened. “Man, you don’t just call him. He calls you.”

She moaned again, a low distressed sound that twisted his gut and made his cock jerked in demand.

“Simon, you have three seconds to call him,” he snarled. “After that I’m going to rip your fucking head off your shoulders and jerk your guts out your throat. And I can do it.”

He was one of the few men that would try.

“You’re gonna get my ass kicked,” Simon snarled.

“Better kicked than dead,” Kiowa retorted. “Don’t push me Simon. I want to talk to him now.”

Simon jerked the cell phone from its hip holder and punched a button furiously before handing the phone to Kiowa.

“What?” The voice at the other end was wary, careful.

“We have a problem,” Kiowa reported, his patience straining to the limit as he listened to a series of pauses and low clicks that indicated added security to the line.

“What’s the problem?” Dash Sinclair wasn’t known for his friendly personality or his patience with problems. His military training and danger surrounding him and his family made for one very suspicious man.

“Babysitting duty has gone sour,” he snapped tightly. “She was hit on the head but woke up fine. Now, she’s showing all the signs of date rape drugs with none of the drug in her system. She’s in distress…”

Damn, so was he. He was about to come in his jeans with each little whimpering moan from her throat.

“Shit!” The sizzling curse that came across the line surprised him. Dash didn’t upset easily. “Did you kiss her?”

Kiss her?

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“Listen to me, you mangy asshole,” Dash snapped, causing Kiowa to grimace at the insult. “Did you or did you not kiss her?”

“Yes,” he snarled back. “She was getting ready to scream, I kissed her. Now what the hell does that have to do with shit?”

“God, if Callan doesn’t lift the restriction on this information someone is going to get killed,” Dash muttered. “Listen to me Kiowa; you have a shit load of problems here.”

“It was a kiss,” he bit out. “Do you think I’ve never kissed a woman before? It never hurt one before.”

“You weren’t kissing your fucking mate before either,” Dash snarled, causing Kiowa to still in shock. “Is your tongue swollen?”

Swollen? It was throbbing as hard as his dick was.

“Kiowa?” Dash snapped seconds later. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Sir,” he replied without thinking, the military tone Dash used snapping into his brain when nothing else could.

“Damn.”

“What?” Kiowa snarled. “Explain it.”

“No time and not enough security,” Dash informed him, his voice turning cold. “Hold on.”

Hold on? Amanda arched beneath the blanket again, her head twisting on the mattress as she whimpered heatedly. The smell of her juices had his body on fire, his mouth watering for the taste of her sweet little pussy.

His hand clenched the phone as he fought the need to push Simon and Steph from the room. If he didn’t get his cock in her soon he was going to go insane.

“No extraction available,” Dash suddenly snapped. “Proceed to Alpha location and await further information.”

Dash snorted. That was just his luck, no way to get a helicopter to him and now Dash was sending him to the one place guaranteed to get him killed.

“Yeah, right, Major,” he growled. “Like I can get in there.”

“Clearance has been arranged and explanations will be given. In the meantime, don’t kiss her again, and do nothing to heighten her arousal. Get your ass there now, Kiowa, and hers. You don’t have time to spare. Now let me talk to Simon.”

He handed the phone to the other man as he moved to release the ties that bound Amanda’s slender ankles. The three-inch heels on the leather ankle boots were so damned sexy he wanted to howl at the sight of it. And those red stockings were enough to make a man come in his jeans. Leaving the blanket on her, he ignored Simon’s part of the conversation as well as the extra call he made seconds later. Kiowa untied Amanda’s hands instead, massaging the fragile wrists as she turned to him.

“I’m cold,” she whispered, lifting drowsy eyes to his.

“I know, baby.” He kept his voice soft, as gentle as possible as he discreetly straightened her clothes and wrapped her snuggly in the blanket.

She didn’t smell cold though. She smelled hot and sweet and ready to take every inch of his throbbing cock.

“Tell me what’s wrong with me.” Her voice was slurred, her eyes so dilated that only a fragile ring of color remained.

“You’re going to be fine, baby,” he whispered against her forehead, laying a kiss on the damp flesh as she trembled in his arms.

“We have a Grand Cherokee outside,” Simon reported as he hung the phone up. The two of you can lie in the back. I’ll drive. Keep her down, yourself as well. We’ll arrive at Alpha location early morning.”

Kiowa glanced at the clock. It was barely ten, would he last that long?

“Steph, go outside and watch the area. We have to load her up and get the hell out of here before anyone tracking can find us. Gloria and the others will ride shotgun. Let’s head out.”

The backseat in the Grand Cherokee had been lowered, the vehicle backed close to the door with the back door swung open. Kiowa carried his hot little burden out the door and finally managed to wedge his long frame in beside hers.

Pillows from the motel bed cushioned their heads as the back was closed and Simon and Steph jumped into the front. It wasn’t a pillow Amanda Lee Marion wanted though. She curled against Kiowa’s chest, the blanket covering her falling away enough to allow her to press one swollen hard-tipped breast into his chest.

“How far is the fucking compound from here?” he growled as he glanced at Simon between the seats.

The other man was trying really hard not to laugh. Kiowa made a mental note to kick his ass when the hard-on went down enough to allow for it.

“Almost six hours,” Stephanie answered him quietly. “We’re taking back roads more than interstate just in case. So far, nothing has been reported on her abduction or any sign that anyone knows anything is awry. With any luck, we’ll reach Virginia without problem.”

No problems for her maybe.

Kiowa couldn’t stop himself from holding Amanda closer as she pressed into him, her leg lifting to hug his close, pressing his thigh against her wet pussy. And she was wet. God, she was so wet he just wanted to go between her thighs and drown in her.

Another soft little moan left her throat as he helplessly pressed harder against her, rasping her straining clit with his thigh as she arched in his arms.

“Turn the fucking radio on, Quatres,” he snarled, holding her head close, furious that the other man would hear those unbidden, soft little moans.

“No kissing, Kiowa,” Simon reminded him sternly as he flipped the radio on and the soft, haunting sounds filled the Jeep. “And no touching.”

Fuck it. He could touch all the hell he wanted. She was sliding against his body like silk and satin and he would be damned if he could keep his hands to himself. But he did want that kiss. His tongue was tight and swollen, small glands at the side of it throbbing almost painfully. This was damned strange. Sex had never been like this, nor had arousal. His mate. Dash Sinclair’s words rolled over him as Amanda’s soft little hands kneaded his chest. She was his mate?

Coyotes weren’t supposed to have loyalty or emotions, let alone mates. Somehow, a few of them had been lucky enough to know loyalty, to create friends and keep them. Some, like Kiowa, had been raised outside the prisons, but the life he had led himself hadn’t exactly inspired the need for loyalties, though he had made a few.

His hand smoothed down her back, his fingers clenching in the full curve of her buttock as her hot little lips found his nipple beneath his shirt.

His teeth clenched as a hard breath escaped his throat. Fuck. Her teeth were working him with exquisite heat, her tongue stroking over the fabric of the shirt as her hands moved sluggishly to press beneath the bottom of the material.

He threw his head back, closed his eyes and fought the need. A need so intense, so all-consuming he doubted he would make it an hour, let alone six.

Chapter Seven

What was wrong with her? Amanda knew something was horribly wrong, that the heat and hunger that kept her body so sensitized and filled with a painful arousal wasn’t natural. It happened with that kiss. She remembered the kiss. The stranger, Kiowa, locking his lips to hers and spreading the taste of sweet honey through her senses. That was when it happened. Within seconds, heat had filled her, making it hard to think, to make sense of anything but the pleasure and the need for his touch.

And touch her he had. She moved against him now, remembering his lips on her breasts, his teeth at her nipple, sending sizzling bolts of exquisite pleasure pain tearing through her. She had known for years that regular, normal sex would never be enough for her. The staid kisses and boring touches she had received over the years had been less than enjoyable. But, when she touched herself, her fingers pinching at her nipples, stroking her clit with a harder touch, there she had found pleasure.

The books she hid and read, sizzling romances that involved just a bit of the more painful love play, would keep her hot and wet for days. But never hot enough for this. To accept the kiss, the touch of a man she didn’t even know.

She shuddered as she remembered his hand slapping her cunt, the vibrations of heat and mild pain streaking into her clit and nearly sending her senses spinning. She wanted more of it. Wanted to feel his hand there again, making her burn, making her twist against him as the pleasure ripped her apart. God, this was so wrong. She shouldn’t be like this. Had he drugged her? She didn’t remember it if he had. And she didn’t feel drugged exactly; it’s just that all her senses were centered on one thing and one thing only. His touch.

“Easy, baby,” he groaned at her ear as her teeth teased his nipple. Her hand slipped beneath his shirt as she gasped at the heat of his hard body and felt his straining erection pressing against her through the rough jeans. That’s what she wanted, his cock pressing into her, stilling the heat throbbing in her pussy.