She couldn’t speak. Her throat felt closed with emotion when he pushed the door open and, rather than moving upstairs, moved to the living room instead.
Where once the room had been empty, there was now a Christmas tree and a lush silk-covered mattress awaiting them.
The lights on the tree lit up as they stepped into the room. Blue and gold. The entire tree was lit with blue and gold. There were only lights, no ornaments, but at the base of a tree was a small, gaily wrapped box.
“What is this?” she whispered as he carried her to the mattress and eased her to the thick silk comforter that covered it.
“It’s our first Christmas.”
Hawke stared into Jessica’s shining eyes. There were tears there. She stared at the tree as though she had never seen one before, much as he had stared at the first Christmas tree Wolfe and Hope had decorated for Haven’s first Christmas several years before.
There, amid the colors he had chosen for their family—her blue eyes, his golden ones—he watched as she reached out, her fingers trembling, to touch the point of one tiny light. A golden one. His color.
“Hawke.” She whispered his name again, her voice throbbing, as she turned back to him, staring at him as though he had just given her the most precious gift in the world.
He swallowed tightly, his throat nearly closed with emotion. Hell, this was the hardest part to get used to, he thought. So much emotion, when before he had felt so very little. The labs had bred emotion out of the Breeds. The scientists and soldiers beat it out of them, froze it out of them, and in some cases, had killed to be rid of Breeds that couldn’t hide emotion.
Hawke had survived. He had hidden all emotion, often even from himself. He had cared for nothing but the survival of the Breeds as a whole, and once he escaped, he had made certain that the survival of their race was all that mattered to him.
Until Jessica.
Now, staring into the velvety depths of her eyes, he knew that he would die, kill, forsake even his race, for this one woman.
“This is my first present to you.” He lifted the small box from beneath the tree and handed it to her.
The brush of her fingers against his was like fire. He could feel the tremble just beneath her flesh, smell the arousal and the hint of need that filled her. He could also sense the love that poured from her. He had never smelled love before, not in relation to himself.
He could become addicted to it.
Hawke watched as she took the gift from him and slowly pulled at the bow he had tied around the small decorated box. It came loose easily, allowing her to lift the flap open.
Reaching in, she pulled free the angel that was inside. With red gold hair and blue eyes, the porcelain body was finely made. Dressed in jeans and a sweater, feet bare. Behind her back, delicate crystal wings were attached and a glistening halo circled her head.
At her feet sat a great gray wolf, its golden eyes staring up at her in adoration. Finding an artist to create what he had needed hadn’t been easy. The delicate tree ornament had only been finished for a matter of weeks.
“My God,” she whispered, her gaze lifting to his as she cradled the figurine in her palm. “Hawke, it’s beautiful.”
“Not nearly as beautiful as you.” He had to clear his throat before he could speak further. “It’s our first ornament, Jess. Our first Christmas together.”
Cupping her hand, he lifted free the gold tree ring in the back and helped her to her feet before guiding her hand to the tree.
There, in the center, he attached the ring to a branch and watched as the blue and gold lights gleamed around it.
Turning her to him, his hands on her shoulders, he lowered his lips, touched them to hers and whispered a prayer for their future.
A second later, everything went black.
Jessica heard Hawke’s muted groan. It wasn’t one of pleasure, nor of arousal. The sound was so odd, so animalistic, that her eyes jerked open, even as he pulled her to the mattress.
It was a free fall. It wasn’t a man taking a woman down to continue the pleasure that filled both their minds. It was a complete, boneless fall, his arms still wrapped around her as he somehow managed to drag her beneath him even as she felt unconsciousness overtake him.
“Hawke!” She screamed his name as she pushed at his much larger body, trying to get his weight off her, to figure out what was going on.
After struggling from beneath him, she rose to her knees, her hands gripping his shoulders when a sudden, fiery tug at her scalp jerked her back and threw her to the floor.
Bracing her fall with her hands, she lifted her head and tossed her hair from her face as she stared up at the dark, shadowed male form above her.
A tight sneer pulled at his lips as he glared back at her from eyes that were familiar, and had once been warm and filled with friendship. His husky body was tight, tense with anger, and she swore she could feel the need to kill as it emanated from him.
“Todd.” She whispered his name, her voice ragged with betrayal and pain.
Todd shook his head, the close cut of his dark blond hair gleaming in the Christmas lights. “I thought better of you, Jess,” he snapped. “I never thought you’d become a dog’s bitch.” She almost flinched at the contempt in his tone, then cried out in despair as he kicked Hawke. A swift, hard jab to the ribs that brought no response from her mate, not so much as a harsh, indrawn breath.
Jessica’s gaze moved from his eyes to the gun Todd held. The silenced Trigg Automatic Glacier was built on the old P-90 lines. Fully automatic, it used flesh-searing, armor-shredding ammunition. One bullet could take out an arm, a leg. A shot to the head, chest or back was fatal. It was so illegal that the United States had placed a ban on it more than ten years ago, and all previous sales of the weapon and ammunition were sought out and the owners reimbursed for the confiscation of the weapon.
“What are you doing, Todd?” With her peripheral vision she sought for her handbag. The little derringer she carried was no match for the weapon he was using, but if she could get just one shot off, one to the head or to the chest, then she might have a chance. Hawke might have a chance.
“You stupid bitch.” He sneered, his hazel eyes blazing with wrath as he kicked Hawke again before stalking around the edge of the mattress. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making certain you pay for betraying God and your country. You stupid whore.”
This time he kicked her.
Before Jessica could evade the toe of his steel-lined boot, it connected with her stomach, throwing her back to the edge of the tree as she felt the air whoosh from her body.