quirked at the sight of the small bed stool at the side of the bed, which made it easier for one of shorter stature to get into the bed easily.
"Surely there is another empty cabin." Her tone was weary, resigned.
"Sorry, sweetheart, this is it." Jonas crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down at her. "And you'll be safer here than you would be anywhere else. As will the baby."
She flashed him a hard stare. "Safer? With Brandenmore in custody . . ."
"Brandenmore escaped." Imparting that information wasn't easy for him. "He managed to make it to a heli-jet awaiting him several blocks from your home. He arrived in Iran several hours ago."
"Iran." Her eyes closed for a brief second and she turned from him. "One of the few places where Breeds can't touch him."
"Unfortunately, yes," he agreed. "The Genetics Council made an agreement with several countries such as Iran at the onset of the Breed rescues. That, combined with their radical views where the Breeds are concerned, have left little negotiating room with such countries."
Rachel moved across the room to the crib, where she turned on the small table lamp next to the child's bed. Then she glanced at Jonas.
He turned off the brighter overhead light and watched as she tucked Amber in.
Next to the crib was a line of bottles; beneath the stand that held the light were stacks of baby diapers. The shelf above the diapers held wipes and lotions, medicated diaper rash salve as well as a small case of baby first aid paraphernalia. Anything a mother could need to take care of her child.
The dresser at the bottom of the crib held clothes: sack gowns, pajamas and tiny outfits as well as socks, little head-bands and assorted baby girl accessories. Jonas had been specific when he'd ordered the room prepared. The exclusive baby store in Buffalo Gap had opened its doors at three in the morning to ensure that the child was provided with everything she would need.
Moving efficiently, Rachel stripped the child, cleaned her with several wipes, then diapered and dressed her in a clean gown in a matter of minutes.
As he watched, Jonas felt the glands at the side of his tongue tightening, filling with the mating hormone as they began to itch and ache. The need to mate her, to mark her, would eventually make him insane, he believed.
"The closet has clothing for you." He nodded to the large walk-in closet on the far side of the room. "I sent one of the Coyote females who's currently assigned to Sanctuary. They seem to be more girly than most of our Feline females. They assured me that you have everything you need."
"Tell me you didn't send Ashley." Rachel turned back to him, a look of almost horror on her face.
Jonas hid his smile. Ashley was the scourge of the entire Breed society. Sociable, so girly it gave a man a toothache, and able to kill with a smile. The woman made friends left and right, bought enough clothes to fill a small house and could talk all day about shoes and purses.
"It was her sister, actually." Her younger sister wasn't much better, but Rachel wasn't aware of that.
"Where did the whole genetic profiling go wrong with those women." Rachel shook her head. "They'll slice your throat for causing them to break a nail."
That wasn't far off the mark.
"They were coddled." Jonas shrugged. "The lab that had these girls in Russia was secretly attempting to aid their escapes or rescues. They had complete control of the Breeds there with no oversight, mostly because the Council was unaware there were Coyote females. They were allowed to develop traits that other Breeds were never given the chance to find within themselves."
And they were still spoiled. The five Coyote females were given the funds for their pretty clothes, their shoes and purses by the Coyote leader and his Coya. They were still coddled and still protected in ways that other Feline females scoffed at. And still, they were just as tough, just as merciless in battle, yet quicker to smile, to make
"Surely there is another empty cabin." Her tone was weary, resigned.
"Sorry, sweetheart, this is it." Jonas crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down at her. "And you'll be safer here than you would be anywhere else. As will the baby."
She flashed him a hard stare. "Safer? With Brandenmore in custody . . ."
"Brandenmore escaped." Imparting that information wasn't easy for him. "He managed to make it to a heli-jet awaiting him several blocks from your home. He arrived in Iran several hours ago."
"Iran." Her eyes closed for a brief second and she turned from him. "One of the few places where Breeds can't touch him."
"Unfortunately, yes," he agreed. "The Genetics Council made an agreement with several countries such as Iran at the onset of the Breed rescues. That, combined with their radical views where the Breeds are concerned, have left little negotiating room with such countries."
Rachel moved across the room to the crib, where she turned on the small table lamp next to the child's bed. Then she glanced at Jonas.
He turned off the brighter overhead light and watched as she tucked Amber in.
Next to the crib was a line of bottles; beneath the stand that held the light were stacks of baby diapers. The shelf above the diapers held wipes and lotions, medicated diaper rash salve as well as a small case of baby first aid paraphernalia. Anything a mother could need to take care of her child.
The dresser at the bottom of the crib held clothes: sack gowns, pajamas and tiny outfits as well as socks, little head-bands and assorted baby girl accessories. Jonas had been specific when he'd ordered the room prepared. The exclusive baby store in Buffalo Gap had opened its doors at three in the morning to ensure that the child was provided with everything she would need.
Moving efficiently, Rachel stripped the child, cleaned her with several wipes, then diapered and dressed her in a clean gown in a matter of minutes.
As he watched, Jonas felt the glands at the side of his tongue tightening, filling with the mating hormone as they began to itch and ache. The need to mate her, to mark her, would eventually make him insane, he believed.
"The closet has clothing for you." He nodded to the large walk-in closet on the far side of the room. "I sent one of the Coyote females who's currently assigned to Sanctuary. They seem to be more girly than most of our Feline females. They assured me that you have everything you need."
"Tell me you didn't send Ashley." Rachel turned back to him, a look of almost horror on her face.
Jonas hid his smile. Ashley was the scourge of the entire Breed society. Sociable, so girly it gave a man a toothache, and able to kill with a smile. The woman made friends left and right, bought enough clothes to fill a small house and could talk all day about shoes and purses.
"It was her sister, actually." Her younger sister wasn't much better, but Rachel wasn't aware of that.
"Where did the whole genetic profiling go wrong with those women." Rachel shook her head. "They'll slice your throat for causing them to break a nail."
That wasn't far off the mark.
"They were coddled." Jonas shrugged. "The lab that had these girls in Russia was secretly attempting to aid their escapes or rescues. They had complete control of the Breeds there with no oversight, mostly because the Council was unaware there were Coyote females. They were allowed to develop traits that other Breeds were never given the chance to find within themselves."
And they were still spoiled. The five Coyote females were given the funds for their pretty clothes, their shoes and purses by the Coyote leader and his Coya. They were still coddled and still protected in ways that other Feline females scoffed at. And still, they were just as tough, just as merciless in battle, yet quicker to smile, to make
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