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by Lora Leigh
Pushing his fingers through his hair, he was aware of his wife catching up with him, moving silently by his side until they reached their room. She was scared for their daughter, uncertain of the decision they’d made when Dash had warned her of what he’d sensed in Cassie six years before. As that knowledge had strengthened over the years, they’d promised themselves they’d support her, no matter where it took her.
Her life, the dangers she’d faced, the choices she’d had to make, had been pushing her closer, and though he hadn’t expected this, he’d promised himself he’d be there for her, no matter the direction that strength took her in.
The knowledge that the “fairy” who had guided Cassie was Dog’s deceased mother might have surprised him, but he didn’t doubt her. Cassie had always known things she shouldn’t have known, made choices Dash knew were shaping her future, and there had been times, rare times, when he’d sensed something in Cassie that now made sense.
“This could be dangerous, Dash,” Elizabeth whispered as he changed into his mission clothes and strapped on his weapons. “She could be hurt. You could be hurt.”
Yeah, it was possible.
Sitting down on the side of the bed, he drew her to him, staring up at her with more love than he’d felt the day before, and the day before that. Over the years, he’d learned not to think that he couldn’t love her more, because it grew daily, and his heart’s capacity for it grew with it.
“It’s her destiny,” he told her softly. “Just as you were mine. She brought me to you, however she knew to do it. This is what she’s been racing toward, Elizabeth, and I don’t trust anyone else to watch her back as well as I trust myself. I don’t know what she’s facing, but I won’t let her face it alone.”
Tears filled her eyes, but they weren’t tears of pain.
“Are you ever going to tell her the truth? That you’re her father? ” she asked.
“I don’t have to tell her.” He shook his head. “Cassie knows. She’s always known.”
REEVER ESTATE
UNDERGROUND LABS OF GRAEME PARKER
Well now, wasn’t this interesting.
Graeme stood in the middle of his lab and stared at the young woman, his head tilted to the side.
The Primal had come forth the moment he caught her scent. Claws emerging, the markings spreading over his body, his gaze becoming sharper, clearing, picking up things a normal Breed had no hope of sensing.
And if he was watching her in interest, she was taking in nearly as much as he was. The blue of her eyes hadn’t completely taken over the whites yet, and he doubted there would be markings, but one wouldn’t know for some time yet.
“How fascinating,” he murmured as his mate, Cat, and his brother, Cullen, as well as Cullen’s mate, Chelsea, watched suspiciously from behind him. “Of course, so would your mate be. You’d never accept a mate weaker than yourself. How did I miss that?”
A frown snapped between those perfectly arched black brows and he could feel what was still trapped, fighting for freedom. This Primal was strong. What the body lacked in physical strength, the creature beneath her skin would make up for in other ways. Ways he may even find shocking.
“I wonder if it was the mating,” he questioned, speaking more to himself than to those standing in the cavern with him. “A hybrid thing, do you think?”
It was the first hybrid mating, he consoled himself. It could be something that emerged in hybrids. If so, the Breed community could well be screwed. There was also a chance it was merely an anomaly.
“Did you sense it?” He turned to her father as curiosity got the best of him. “Has it always been there?”
Dash’s sharp nod was all he needed.
“Hmm.” Retracting the claws was easy enough; the stripes remained.
Primal to Primal, she would respect nothing else.
“Are you Primal as well?” He turned his attention back to Dash and caught the Wolf Breed’s quick shake of his head.
“Not hereditary, then.” He sighed, smelling the strength of Dash’s paternal mark on her. “We’ll have to discuss this in depth, you know.”
“They’re not here to talk, Mr. Hyde,” his brother’s mate reminded him. “I warned you of that.”
Yes, that was true; she had reminded him of that.
“I need blood, saliva.” He let his gaze meet the young halfling’s. “Give me what I want; I give you what you want.”
Her eyes narrowed, the blue filled with latent power. He wanted to rub his hands together in glee. He’d been getting bored, he admitted. This would definitely liven things up.
“Graeme,” his mate’s voice held a warning.
“Cat,” he answered her, though his gaze never shifted from that neon blue. “It’s easy enough. She knows there’s no danger in giving it.” She merely stared back at him as he tilted his head and watched her.
“Can you speak?” he asked, amused.
“Quite well. Give me what I need, I’ll take the samples myself,” she stated.
That voice. Graeme could feel a chill moving up his spine at the haunting, hypnotic tone. It was beautiful. Crystal clear, pulling at the senses, at that inner part of a living being that made one need to give whatever the voice demanded.
“Can you work the pressure syringe yourself? I can lay out what you need,” he told her, thankful that he had no problem with it. Denying this young woman would not be easy when she let this part of her free.
“I can.” She nodded.
Graeme looked to her father quickly, seeing the clench of the Breed’s jaw.
That voice. God help Breeds and humans alike when the Primal inside her was fully mature. That voice would demand everyone sit up and listen.
Turning away, he laid out what she needed—the syringe, a sterile swab—and watched as she extracted her blood into the three vials he provided. Three swabs. He had quite a bit of work to do.
She did it quickly, efficiently, as he moved to his computer, typed in the proper address and watched information scroll through. He’d been alerted to certain events as Dash called, and had followed the information until they arrived.
When Cassie Sinclair stepped back from the tray she’d placed the samples on, he quickly wrote down the information and handed it to her.
“You shouldn’t go alone,” he told her.
“She’s not,” her father spoke up.
Yes, this one would watch her back, but who would watch his? His influence on the young Primal was strong enough, the bonds of father and child stronger than the girl knew. But they were just two against whatever force awaited them.
“Cullen, shall we join the party?” he asked, aware of the young woman stilling, preparing. “Just to watch the father’s back.” He smiled as she narrowed her eyes on him.
“Good idea,” Cat agreed quietly. “Chelsea and I will join you.”
He tilted his head and stared back at Cassie. “It’s your party. Are you agreeable?”
Her slow nod was a bit wary, but her agreement was all he needed.
“When I gut him, keep back.” It wasn’t an idle threat.
Dash grimaced, a look of concern flickering over his expression.
“You’re going to kill him fast?” Graeme frowned, shedding his lab coat as Cullen handed him his weapon. “My dear, we need to discuss the idea of true pain. You’ll rue the day if you show him mercy. Shall we discuss the merits of torture instead …”
The frightening part was the fact that she seemed all too willing to listen.
• CHAPTER 18 •
There was nothing but pure, white-hot, demented fury. The kind of fury that took hold at the sight of another’s hands on his mate, restraining her, holding her back. The crazed rage as he was forced to remain still, silent at the sound of the animalistic screams and the knowledge that his mate was running desperately for him.
He didn’t look back, but he didn’t have to. From the second he’d seen her vaulting over the second bodyguard’s car and landing in a p
erfect defensive crouch, he’d been attuned to her as never before. Even in those fragile moments, six years before, after she’d awakened in the hospital, her furious scream echoing around her, it hadn’t been this strong.
He’d simply stared at the man who had brought his grandfather’s offer to him and watched him slowly pale as Dog fought to hide the physical proof of that rage.
He hadn’t gone this nuclear since he was a child watching the news report of the unidentified body found in a back alley, a hole through his heart. What had happened then had destroyed the small cabin and everything in it, as well as Dog’s memories of how it had been accomplished.
When he’d awakened, he’d found himself inside the coyote mother’s burrow, curled against her warmth along with her pups, as she gently cleaned his bloodied hands.
He’d been ten, wracked by such grief, such anger, that he’d lain in that burrow for days. Soldiers had found the cabin, set fire to it. They’d searched for him, along with several Coyote Breeds. As they neared the burrow, the animal that sheltered him stuck her head out of the opening, snarling at the Breeds. They’d retreated, sensing no more than her and her pups, and eventually gave up their search.
Dog could feel that rage tearing at him now, but he wasn’t ten any longer. And he didn’t let that creature control him. He controlled the beast, until he decided it was time to set it free.
The drive from the Bureau of Breed Affairs to the private airport was longer than he expected, several hours, he’d realized, when the human had given Mongrel the directions. Mutt caught up with them long before that, the Dragoon following close behind them.
“She shot Mutt,” Mongrel informed him, his gaze wary as it met Dog’s in the rearview mirror.
“I saw.” He turned his gaze back to the human.
If the other Coyote was unable to drive, Mutt would have informed him of that as well.
“Your grandfather won’t like blood in the plane.” The weak-assed bastard cleared his throat and spoke hesitantly. “He’s a very fastidious person.”
Fastidious, was he? Didn’t like blood?
“Shame,” he grunted, his voice low.
The human held his gaze another moment before it flickered away. He’d obviously expected Dog to say something more. There was nothing more to say.
His grandfather was expecting a reunion of some type, it seemed. His conditions had been exacting. Break from his mate, meet this ball-less bastard and fly to him. No doubt it was a trap, but it wouldn’t matter. Whoever the Major was, he was going to die. His fastidious self was going to bleed like a gutted pig. Dog was going to make certain of it.
The little bastard sent to give him the message cleared his throat again. “She’s pretty,” he offered hesitantly and at Dog’s glower almost pissed himself.
Now he knew what Graeme meant when he said everyone lost their bladders when faced with Breed rage.
The little man cleared his throat again. “Your grandfather has authorized me to answer any questions …”
“Shit, man, would you shut the fuck up,” Mongrel snapped from the driver’s seat, the growl in his voice demanding as his wary gaze checked the rearview mirror again. “He’ll take your fucking throat. Pissy-assed pantywaist moron. Can’t humans sense anything?”
The human in question tried to press deeper into the corner of the seat facing Dog’s, paling as Dog smiled with icy disdain.
“How long is this flight going to take, if you’re so authorized?” Mongrel snapped, obviously nervous about whatever he sensed coming off Dog.
“Thh … the flight?” the human squeaked. “Five hours. It’s just five hours.”
Long enough. Far enough away from his mate. But an inch was far enough away from her.
He breathed in deeply, the scent of her still clinging to the shirt he wore. She’d worn it after he’d taken her the first time the night before. Wrapped it around her as she lay back against his chest and let him just hold her.
They hadn’t spoken, though he’d sensed her fears, her worry. And when he’d known she wasn’t willing to stay silent any longer, he’d taken her again. Drawn it out. Immersed himself in her pleasure, her pleas, her body straining against his as she orgasmed to his fingers, to his tongue, then again as he’d found his release and locked inside her.
That was ecstasy. That was the most pleasure to be found in any life. Feeling his mate coming undone at his touch, her soul touching his, filling his as he held her, feeling her becoming a part of his spirit.
He’d go mad eventually without her, and he knew it. Filing that petition had actually made him weak with the agony it had caused. Knowing he’d severed that tie, no matter how little it counted to the mating, would drive the beast inside him to insanity.
But it would protect her.
A Separation ensured that any crime he might commit against Breed Law, she wouldn’t suffer for it. That was all that mattered, that his mate didn’t suffer more than she would already. The Disavowal would keep Jonas or Rule from allowing her to know where he was, or to come to him once he was captured. And he would be. He was weak without her, he realized. His will to fight against Breed Law would be nonexistent.
His halfling.
He could still feel her wild fury beating inside his soul. He’d thought it would dull as the drive lengthened, but he could still feel it. Her tears, her screams. If the agony lancing through him didn’t abate, then he wouldn’t be able to contain it long enough to reach his prey.
He could have let it go.
That was what he told himself when the Breeds he’d found in Cassie’s former suite had told him about their search for the Major and this man. The emissary, they called him. Their search of the emissary’s computer files had revealed the information on Dog and Cassie, his surveillance of them sent to the Major.
Find the Major, the Wolf Breeds in Cassie’s suite told him, contact them and they’d move in and take custody of him.
Yeah, he’d agreed to it. He’d contacted this puny-assed human and made all the right moves, and when he’d been told to walk away from his mate if he wanted his legacy, Dog had walked away.
Because of the danger to his mate.
Because the information the Wolf Breeds had downloaded and shown him had detailed the risk of the hell they could be drawn into if he didn’t take care of the threat.
And in taking care of it, he’d be subject to Breed Law.
He’d lose his mate, no matter the choice he made.
Through the long, tedious limo ride, the even longer flight, he remained silent. He let the memories of Cassie wash over him, sustain him.
The scent of her, spice and a hint of sugar. Her kiss breathed against his lips … her rage.
Her rage beat inside his soul, mixing with his own, until he was certain madness lay in the next second.
Enduring it would kill him long before Breed Law managed to do so.
• CHAPTER 19 •
SENATOR RYDER’S ESTATE
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
The mansion was brightly lit, well-guarded, and inside it was her mate. Cassie narrowed her eyes on it, her gaze tracking, searching.
A pristine lawn stretched before her, with few areas for concealment. Landscape lighting was positioned to dispel the heaviest of the shadows, but at three in the morning, the human guards patrolling the estate wouldn’t be at their best. That is, unless the motion sensors were set off or the electronic security staff were diligent.
Three two-man teams patrolled the outside of the house, along with the dogs that paced at their sides. The dogs didn’t worry her overmuch. They were well trained, alert, but she’d already touched their senses, soothed them, assured them only friends were invading their territory that night.
Now she just had to find her mate.
He was in the house; she knew that for certain. She could feel him waiting. Was he waiting for her? Did he sense the enraged, betrayed fury getting ready to descend on him?
“Don’t use your eyes
,” Graeme hissed, the mangled feline sound reaching her from where she crouched atop the wall surrounding the estate, hidden by the heavy branches of a locust tree. “Use your senses. Your mate is the reason that creature that strains inside you exists. Mate to mate. You’ll find him if you let it have its way.”
Mate to mate.
She was going to skin her mate out and take his hide home. She’d hang it on her wall and die of grief.
A hard slap at the back of her head nearly knocked her from her perch. The scrape of sharp claws against her scalp accompanied the less-than-gentle tap. Before she could twist and defend herself, she found herself with a face full of Primal Bengal. Stripes, sharp canines and all.
“Close your eyes,” he hissed, now crouched at her side. “He’s a part of you. Find him.”
She closed her eyes, sensing the value of whatever he had to teach her, needing it. The closer they’d gotten to the estate of Aaron C. Ryder, the more the rage had built inside her.
It connected them.
The wild near insanity of that fury was all that bound them. She’d given herself to him, heart, soul. But in the long hours after he’d driven away, she’d realized he hadn’t given himself.
He had touched her soul, filled it, just as he’d filled her body, and she hadn’t even realized that he hadn’t let her into his own.
As she let her senses reach out, her eyes slowly opened again, her senses alerted to the spirit she’d become so used to as a child. The shimmering form of Dog’s mother, faint, so faint, wavering against the darkness, stood on the lawn just beyond the tree hiding them from view.
Turning, the spirit pointed to a first-floor window, the one in the exact center. An office of some sort, or a library, she guessed, barely able to glimpse shelves of books through a crack in the shielding curtains.
She could feel Graeme tensing, rumbling growls barely heard, as he must have sensed the spirit.