monster existed. She saw an injustice, where he saw justice. And he now found himself in conflict with his very beliefs and his perceived place in the world.
He was a Breed. There was no changing that, and he had just as much right to exist in this world as any other creature did. He had the right to laughter, the right to dream, and the right to love. But did he have the right to kill?
A part of him howled yes . A part of him questioned that belief. Could he ever do his job again, now that he had seen the look of horror and betrayal in Grace's eyes?
And he knew he wouldn't. Whether she accepted the mating between them or left at the end of the week to resume her life alone, Matthias knew that this part of his life was over.
The smoke assassin would exist no more. He would drift out of men's minds with the same ease that he had slipped into their most secured areas and destroyed the monsters. All because of a woman.
His lips quirked at the though of that woman.
She was the softest creature on the face of the earth, as far as he was concerned. Gently rounded and tender of flesh as well as emotions. Stubborn. He could see the stubbornness in the sharply rounded chin, but he saw her compassion in her pert little nose and rosebud lips.
Her gray eyes were always soft, even when she was angry, and when she was aroused, they were like a storm. Dark, shifting with color, and firing with hunger.
She moved him. She made him wish for things he had never believed he would want. Made him dream of things he had never believed he would dream of. Things like a home, perhaps children, but at the very least, her soft smile filling his heart before he slept each night, the warmth of her body curled against his.
He wanted to protect her, he wanted to laugh with her, as he had done before she had seen him take a life. She had kept a smile on his face with her gentle teasing and her determination to make certain he knew what the finer things in life were.
Such as a pillow fight. She had whacked him over the head with a couch pillow one evening in her apartment and informed him that even Breeds needed to learn the rules of a pillow fight.
He had nearly kissed her that night. She had dusted him in the pillow fight, but he had retaliated by wrestling her to the floor and stealing her pillow.
He smiled at the memory. Her need for the kiss had filled the air, and only the thought of what would come had kept him in control.
She needed the choice. He wouldn't surprise her with it, he wasn't going to force it on her.
She had cooked him dinner many nights then made him help her wash the dishes rather than using the dishwasher. Another evening she had made him help her cook. He doubted she would repeat that exercise very soon. They had ended up eating from room service, but they had laughed.
They had taken long walks through central park, holding hands.
He had gone shoe shopping with her. She had helped him pick out a new pair of boots. He'd talked her into a leather miniskirt, she'd made him buy a pair of jeans, and then they wore their new clothes in the privacy of her apartment, as they ate popcorn and watched a comedy movie she'd been wanting to see.
She could bust his ass playing poker, but he had her on Monopoly. They had fit. Despite the sexual tension that had steadily grown between them, there had been something about being with her that fit him, all the way to his soul.
And he couldn't help but think that finally he belonged to someone.
Breeds weren't born, they were created. They belonged to the labs. They were no more than expensive tools and experiments, until their escapes. After that, they belonged to no one. They were without family, in many cases they were without friends. They were part of the pack they had trained in, but true belonging went deeper. It went to the soul. And his soul belonged to Grace.
But he was beginning to realize that perhaps Grace really didn't want to belong to him. He stared at the rock in his
He was a Breed. There was no changing that, and he had just as much right to exist in this world as any other creature did. He had the right to laughter, the right to dream, and the right to love. But did he have the right to kill?
A part of him howled yes . A part of him questioned that belief. Could he ever do his job again, now that he had seen the look of horror and betrayal in Grace's eyes?
And he knew he wouldn't. Whether she accepted the mating between them or left at the end of the week to resume her life alone, Matthias knew that this part of his life was over.
The smoke assassin would exist no more. He would drift out of men's minds with the same ease that he had slipped into their most secured areas and destroyed the monsters. All because of a woman.
His lips quirked at the though of that woman.
She was the softest creature on the face of the earth, as far as he was concerned. Gently rounded and tender of flesh as well as emotions. Stubborn. He could see the stubbornness in the sharply rounded chin, but he saw her compassion in her pert little nose and rosebud lips.
Her gray eyes were always soft, even when she was angry, and when she was aroused, they were like a storm. Dark, shifting with color, and firing with hunger.
She moved him. She made him wish for things he had never believed he would want. Made him dream of things he had never believed he would dream of. Things like a home, perhaps children, but at the very least, her soft smile filling his heart before he slept each night, the warmth of her body curled against his.
He wanted to protect her, he wanted to laugh with her, as he had done before she had seen him take a life. She had kept a smile on his face with her gentle teasing and her determination to make certain he knew what the finer things in life were.
Such as a pillow fight. She had whacked him over the head with a couch pillow one evening in her apartment and informed him that even Breeds needed to learn the rules of a pillow fight.
He had nearly kissed her that night. She had dusted him in the pillow fight, but he had retaliated by wrestling her to the floor and stealing her pillow.
He smiled at the memory. Her need for the kiss had filled the air, and only the thought of what would come had kept him in control.
She needed the choice. He wouldn't surprise her with it, he wasn't going to force it on her.
She had cooked him dinner many nights then made him help her wash the dishes rather than using the dishwasher. Another evening she had made him help her cook. He doubted she would repeat that exercise very soon. They had ended up eating from room service, but they had laughed.
They had taken long walks through central park, holding hands.
He had gone shoe shopping with her. She had helped him pick out a new pair of boots. He'd talked her into a leather miniskirt, she'd made him buy a pair of jeans, and then they wore their new clothes in the privacy of her apartment, as they ate popcorn and watched a comedy movie she'd been wanting to see.
She could bust his ass playing poker, but he had her on Monopoly. They had fit. Despite the sexual tension that had steadily grown between them, there had been something about being with her that fit him, all the way to his soul.
And he couldn't help but think that finally he belonged to someone.
Breeds weren't born, they were created. They belonged to the labs. They were no more than expensive tools and experiments, until their escapes. After that, they belonged to no one. They were without family, in many cases they were without friends. They were part of the pack they had trained in, but true belonging went deeper. It went to the soul. And his soul belonged to Grace.
But he was beginning to realize that perhaps Grace really didn't want to belong to him. He stared at the rock in his
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