So many saw him as manipulating, calculating: A man who deserved little respect because of the pure power he displayed. But Jonas was so much more than that. He manipulated to ensure the safety of the Breeds. He calculated to ensure the happiness of those close to him. He did what he had to do to provide a measure of safety to Sanctuary as well as to Haven, and to bring the Breeds into a cohesive society that projected the appearance of invincible strength.
It was the only way to survive, she knew. The Breeds were facing an uncertain future in many ways. Laws could be changed on a whim, and what was theirs now could be taken from them tomorrow. It had happened in the past to other races. Rachel had no doubt that the Breeds too faced that threat.
Rising to her feet, she paced to the living room, then to her room. She was looking at a long night. Sleep had never seemed so far away, nor had it ever seemed so unwanted.
The rest of the week seemed to progress much as that night had. The day was filled with meetings, wrapping up projects and completing the move of the main office to Sanctuary. There seemed to be very little time to actually talk to Jonas, or to figure out what the hell they were going to do after the move.
It wasn't as though they could go back to the same routine that they had had before. Yet Jonas seemed determined to do just that.
He was more distant that he had ever been, and the time they shared together became few and far between.
She found that by living in the cabin with Jonas, though, there were benefits. He began slipping into her room and taking Amber for her feedings throughout the night.
Not once during the week had she woken to her daughter's fretful whimpers for a meal or a dry diaper. Once, she had awakened to see him bending over the crib, returning her daughter to her bed, his expression caught by the light of the lamp next to the small bed.
It had been a father's face, full of gentleness. The face of a man who had claimed a child--whether by blood or by love--and now carried through with the responsibilities of that job.
For long moments he had stood watching Amber, dressed in nothing more than a pair of soft cotton pants, his chest and feet bare.
Rachel had felt such a surge of emotion, such pure arousal, that for a moment her breath caught.
He had turned then, as though drawn by the power of what she had felt, his gaze locking with hers.
Not a word had been said. He had turned and walked from the room so quietly that she wondered if he had ever been there. She had never caught him again, though she knew he fed Amber nightly. The bottles were always washed and sterilized, sitting on the counter awaiting her the next morning, and diapers were in the waste each morning.
It was a routine they had begun to fall into, and it was one that was wearing on her nerves as she felt his hunger growing as well as the arousal beginning to build within her.
No one could claim this was mating heat, she thought as she watched him carry wood into the cabin for a fire that night. Not that they needed it so much for the warmth. She had learned while living on Sanctuary that the Breeds, for all their technology, preferred classic comforts. A comfortable seat, a fire, steak and potatoes, a cold beer. Many even still carried the outlawed bullet- and shell-loaded weapons from decades before rather than the laser-powered weapons that were more effective when set to stun or wound, rather than kill.
Not that their enemies didn't use the same weapons. Bullets were still preferred by many of their attackers, simply because they did more damage to the body with the same effectiveness of the new weapons being introduced.
Society in general was all about less bloodshed and more humane weapons, or so advertising proclaimed. At least, for those who cared about the damage caused or about leaving others less defended.
"Rachel, before you leave the office, contact Senator Tyler and ask him if he'll move the meeting set for tomorrow in D.C. out here. The Weather Service is calling for heavy snow tomorrow and I'd prefer not to get grounded by a blizzard."
He moved from his office into hers, a frown edging at his brows to indicate his irritation as he faced her. Jonas didn't mind the snow unless it ended up delaying something he wanted or needed to do.
"Anything else?" She made a note on the electronic reminder she used.
She heard him mutter something--she knew she had. But when she turned back to him, he was merely glaring back at her with the same expression he'd had moments ago.
"Did you say something else?" she questioned him in confusion.
"I said you could work naked, but I doubt you're into that." The glare became more intense.
Rachel just barely kept her lips from twitching. "I could, but don't you think Lawe and Rule might be a little uncomfortable when you start all that growling stuff?"
His expression stilled, no doubt in shock. It wasn't the first time he had muttered something; it was simply the first time she had confronted him over it.
As she watched, the arousal, the pure hunger he always seemed to keep a lid on, flared in his gaze for just a second before he managed to hide it once again.
What she saw stole her breath. The need that reflected for that one second on his face was like nothing she had ever seen or known in her life. It was all-consuming, overwhelming.
Unlike Jonas, she didn't have the self-control to hide her own responses nearly so quickly, and she knew it. Heat surged through her body, raced through her bloodstream, and in less than a second had her clit throbbing and her vagina moist and clenching in need.
She watched as he slowly inhaled, drawing in the scent of her arousal, and thought just how unfair it was that he had that ability.
"You're stepping into very dangerous territory," he warned her as he crossed his arms over his chest, the white silk shirt he wore stretching over his broad shoulders. "If you have no desire to be a mate, then perhaps you should give a second thought to teasing me, Rachel."
Perhaps she should.
"I haven't refused to be your mate. I simply stated that I'm not your mate," she pointed out to him. "Just because some hormone in your system wants to turn me into your sex slave doesn't mean I would be anything more than just that."
Perhaps she was wrong. She had spent quite a bit of time watching Callan and Merinus and talking to the friend she had nearly lost contact with. What she had heard hadn't sounded too bad, simply inconvenient. She just didn't have time to be inconvenienced in such a way.
"Keep pushing me," he warned her as he stepped closer to her desk. "You may not like the results."