Mark Of The B*E*A*S*T*

by Rebecca Goings

  * * *

  Champagne Books

  www.champagnebooks.com

  Copyright ©2010 by Rebecca Goings

  First published in 2010

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY ONE

  TWENTY TWO

  TWENTY THREE

  TWENTY FOUR

  TWENTY FIVE

  TWENTY SIX

  TWENTY SEVEN

  TWENTY EIGHT

  TWENTY NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY ONE

  THIRTY TWO

  THIRTY THREE

  THIRTY FOUR

  THIRTY FIVE

  THIRTY SIX

  THIRTY SEVEN

  THIRTY EIGHT

  About Rebecca

  * * * *

  * * * *

  Champagne Books Presents

  * * * *

  Mark Of The

  B*E*A*S*T*

  By

  * * * *

  Rebecca Goings

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  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  * * * *

  Champagne Books

  www.champagnebooks.com

  Copyright 2010 by Rebecca Goings

  ISBN 9781926681887

  September 2010

  Cover Art by Christopher Butts

  Produced in Canada

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  Champagne Books

  #35069-4604 37 ST SW

  Calgary, AB T3E 7C7

  Canada

  * * * *

  Other Books By Rebecca

  On Eagle's Wings

  In Your Arms

  The B*E*A*S*T* Within

  B*E*A*S*T* Of Burden

  Nature Of the B*E*A*S*T*

  Promise Me Forever

  Once A Dreamer

  Kindred

  Sincerely Yours

  Dedication

  For all my friends from my old stomping grounds. I hope you enjoy this one.

  And for Crystal. I miss you.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  ONE

  Somewhere in the Florida Everglades

  The spray of water and the wind in his face did nothing to cool Mackenzie Bishop's red-hot rage. The drone of the airboat buzzed throughout his entire body, and the boat left a wake of white foam behind him.

  He'd left the others behind in Miami. They'd wasted too much time as it was. It had been nearly two months since Robyn had been gone, two months since Dr. Lucian Carver had taken her right from under his nose. Trevor, Jet, Rogan, Noah and Wade had vowed to help him find her, but Christ, they had taken forever pinpointing exactly where in Florida the third B*E*A*S*T* compound was located.

  Once they'd found it nestled deep in the Everglades, the bickering began. How should they approach the facility? Should they barge in with guns drawn or should they take a quieter, more stealthy approach?

  Mac didn't give a shit. All he knew was Robyn was at Carver's mercy and he wasn't going to stand for her being in his clutches any longer. He was going to find the woman on his own.

  The rest of the pack be damned.

  The day was hot, almost oppressively so, as the muggy Florida air rushed by. Sweat had soaked his shirt long ago. The sun burned his skin, but he couldn't afford to stop. The compound wasn't too far away now. Robyn's beautiful face spurred him on. He refused to think of what had happened to her in the months she'd been gone. The only thing that mattered was rescuing her.

  His thoughts ran away from him, remembering her sultry blue eyes, capturing his soul within their depths. When he'd lost control and pounced on her back in Texas, her body had fit his perfectly. Her breasts had been flawless, as if made for his hands alone. He remembered how he'd palmed them in his lust. Her kisses had inflamed him, to the point of almost taking her right then and there—until Noah had interrupted them.

  She'd called him a coward for stopping. Despite the anger boiling within him, his mouth curved into a grin. Perhaps he was a coward. He'd been afraid of himself, afraid of what he'd been about to do. Controlling the jaguar inside him was no easy feat. And he'd been a hairsbreadth away from losing that control.

  But dear Lord, Robyn made him want to lose it, to bury himself within her and forget ever being a shifter. She, more than anyone, could understand what he was going through, as she was a shifter herself.

  He'd found her in the wilds of Oregon, flopping on the ground as a snowy owl with a broken wing. He could tell by her scent that she'd been more than a mere owl. When she'd shifted, she'd led him to the second B*E*A*S*T* compound where they'd liberated it with the help of Jet and Trevor. And Mac had personally killed the scientist who'd hurt her.

  Now, he was fixing to do it all over again. The moment he saw Lucian Carver's ugly face once more, it would be for the last time. The bastard was going to die with Mac's fangs sunk deep into the soft flesh of his throat.

  Mac's mouth watered and his belly growled at the thought. Killing for the sake of killing repulsed him. But killing the assholes who'd made them all into monsters made the world a better place.

  Mac slowed the airboat as the facility came into view. It was well hidden among the cypress trees, which rose from the water like white skeletal bones. A few long-necked cranes took wing as he rounded the trees and the splash of something in the water caught his attention. Probably a gator. He stared hard at the animals, wondering if they were shifters themselves. He took a deep breath, but the stench of the swamp was enough to cover the scent of the creatures. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. From here on out, any damn thing could happen.

  It was quiet. Too quiet. From the B*E*A*S*T* compounds in Colorado and Oregon, he'd learned a few things. There were always guards. Yet no one was patroling outside that he could see, aside from the animals around him. And any one of them could be a shifter.

  Reaching between his legs, Mac grabbed his rifle and a tranquilizer gun, as well as a large duffel stuffed with ammo and serum. Not only had they liberated that second compound, they'd raided it as well, leaving them well-stocked with serum—the shit that prevented anyone from shifting, no matter if they were in their human or animal state.

  With a heave, Mac leapt from the boat onto the marshy land, thankful he'd been endowed with the grace of a jaguar. A few loud caws could be heard from somewhere nearby, and the buzz of insects was constant. He swiped them away from his face as he cautiously approached the building, looking for the security cameras high on the walls.<
br />
  They were there, all right, but they weren't moving, and their red recording lights were dark. Odd. In fact, the front doors of the place were wide open.

  Mac cocked his rifle and slung the tranq gun over his shoulder along with the duffel. He was gonna shoot first and ask questions later. The weight of the gun felt good in his hands and gave him the courage to move forward.

  But as he eased closer, doubt overcame him. Was this the right place? Had they been mistaken about this facility? Something wasn't right. Something was out of place. It didn't take animal instincts to figure that one out.

  A putrid scent wafted to him on the thick air, one he recognized instantly. The smell of rotting flesh. The smell of death.

  Mac didn't think twice. He entered the compound and jogged down the empty hallway. He didn't care about the cameras. They didn't seem to care about him either. What the hell was going on?

  As soon as he rounded a corner, it became painfully obvious. Dead bodies were everywhere. Scientists and shifters alike, bathed in a sea of red, coagulated blood. They

  had been rotting for days if the smell was any indication.

  Robyn.

  Her name flashed through his brain and his desperation to reach her came to the fore. Without guilt, he kicked a scientist onto his back and pulled off his security badge. Damn thing was covered in blood. Using both hands, Mac wiped it on the dead man's lab coat and strode to the elevator.

  He placed it in the slot and watched as the elevator doors pinged open. Thankfully, nothing alive or dead was inside. But huge streaks of blood painted the walls and pools of it gelled on the floor. No buttons lined the walls inside. This elevator only went one place.

  Straight down.

  Once the car stopped its descent a few moments later, Mac leveled his gun and pointed it out the opening doors. Silence greeted him.

  "Robyn!” His voice echoed throughout the corridor, a mirror image of the horrific scene above. “Robyn Groves!"

  Nothing answered him.

  He checked every lab and even further, to the very cages of the shifters themselves. Each gate was open. The shifters were gone.

  Cold dread hit him. All the searching, all the nightmares, all the pain of knowing Robyn was with Carver was for nothing. She wasn't here.

  Or...perhaps she was.

  With tears burning his eyes, Mac searched the bodies, looking for a snowy owl. He found quite a few dead hawks and eagles. Even an owl or two. But none of them were Robyn. That didn't satisfy him in the least. She wasn't among the dead humans, either. Robyn was gone and he had no goddamn clue where to look next.

  Mac screamed with fury and swung the rifle like a bat against the wall again and again, without caring if he broke it. He'd thought he felt helpless trying to find her these past couple of months. But that didn't compare to the helplessness that overwhelmed him now. He'd found where she'd been, but there wasn't a single trace of her anymore. The stink of death had erased her scent.

  With a primal growl, he ran to the elevator and swiped

  the badge, riding it back up to the top. The doors slid open and he sprinted down the hall, leaping over the dead. He'd search every friggin’ inch of Florida if he had to. He wasn't going to rest. He had to find Robyn. It wasn't even a question.

  How he was going to do it, though, was another matter all together.

  Panic snaked around his heart, but he tried to tamp it down. He couldn't afford to lose his cool. That didn't stop his fur from growing all over his body. The jag wanted free. It roared inside him, demanding to shift and rip something apart.

  Standing outside the facility, Mac took a few deep breaths and stood stock still, using every ounce of his willpower to rein in the animal he wanted so desperately to become. He roared once more, tossing his head back and scaring even more birds from their roosts in the trees. It helped release his anger, but it didn't erase it fully.

  Mac fell to his knees and let the guns clatter to the ground. What the hell was he going to do? Thankfully, the rifle didn't look damaged, but no matter how many breaths he gulped, he couldn't calm his pounding heart. Somehow, in some way, this facility had been compromised. What shifters hadn't been killed had escaped.

  His only hope was that Robyn had escaped with them. Would she come looking for him? Would she even care? She'd been locked up for weeks; it was alltogether possible she blamed him for not coming to her rescue. Mac hated himself for not finding her sooner.

  "Robyn!” he screamed at the sky, knowing damn well it was beyond hope. The woman he'd held in his dreams was gone and he didn't know where to even start looking for her.

  He laid his forehead on the ground and concentrated on calming his thundering heart. For the first time in a long time, Mac wanted to give in and break down. Robyn was gone. The one person who'd kept him sane, who he'd lusted after, who he'd pushed himself to find come hell or high water, had vanished.

  A sound fluttered above him, reaching his keen ears. It was a bird, probably finding its way back to the trees after being scared off by his previous roar. Whatever it was, it

  landed in front of him, cooing faintly.

  Lifting his head, Mac took pains not to spook whatever it was. Lying prone on the ground with the guns scattered before him didn't exactly put him at an advantage. But what he saw had him gasping for breath.

  An owl with white plummage regarded him, tilting its head this way and that. It cooed once more and Mac's stomach leapt into his throat.

  "Robyn?"

  He sat up slowly, so as not to spook it. It regarded him with curiosity, and hopped away when he reached out his hand.

  "It's Mac."

  The bird took flight once again, circling above him.

  "Wait. Wait!” He stood, craning his neck to watch it, wondering if he'd finally gone mad. Was he seeing what he wanted to see? Or was that a real owl?

  "Robyn!"

  The bird returned, once again alighting on the ground. That was no indigenous Florida bird—that was a snowy owl. He'd bet his damn life on it.

  Mac closed his eyes and filled his lungs. He recognized that scent. It was her. It was her!

  "Oh, thank God. Thank you, God! Robyn, I came to find you. Are you all right?"

  When the bird cocked its head, he had to wonder why she wasn't shifting. Perhaps she'd been injected with the serum. But as far as he knew, the serum only worked for four hours. It would have long since worn away.

  He took a step. The bird hopped back.

  "I'm not going to hurt you. Robyn, you know me."

  Once he'd said those words, a shocking realization came to him. His entire being screamed at the possibility. She'd been mind-wiped.

  "Oh, hell,” he whispered. He covered his mouth with his hand. She didn't remember him. After all of his anxiety over finding her alive, he'd never considered the possibility that she'd forget him. His heart might as well have been ripped right out of his chest. “I...I'm a...friend. I came to find you. To rescue you. Robyn, you can trust me."

  The owl cooed once more, as if weighing his words.

  After a few tense moments of silence, the bird began to shift, her wings becoming arms, her beak becoming a nose and mouth. Before too long, she stood before him, gloriously naked, swaying on her feet.

  She looked tired. She looked hungry.

  She looked goddamn beautiful.

  Mac's eyes drank her in, roving over her hungrily before returning his gaze to her ice-blue eyes. He'd dreamt of this moment, of reuniting with her and finally taking what he'd always thought was rightfully his. But she looked at him with trepidation and tried to cover herself.

  "You know my name.” Her voice caressed him, bringing his body alive. He was aware of her with every shred of his hardened flesh, but her words only confirmed his fears. She didn't know him.

  His heart broke.

  "Yes, I do,” he said gently, blinking back the moisture that wanted to fall. “Your name is Robyn Groves. I'm Mac. You know me. Or at least, you used to."


  "Mac.” She exhaled on the word, as if mulling it over. “I'm sorry, but...I don't know you."

  He sucked in air through his teeth. “My name is Mackenzie Bishop. I saved you from B*E*A*S*T* in Oregon. You were kidnapped by Lucian Carver and I've spent the past two months looking for you. I think you've been mind-wiped."

  "Dr. Carver!” she exclaimed, looking left and right with fear in her eyes.

  "Easy, sweetheart, he's not here. I don't know where the bastard is, but he won't hurt you ever again. Not if I have something to say about it."

  "You are a shifter too?"

  He nodded, knowing she could probably smell it. “I'm a jaguar."

  "Where is Dylan?” she asked, looking around the glade.

  Mac furrowed his brow in confusion. “Who's Dylan?"

  "He's my mate."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  TWO

  Robyn's heart quickened at the look on the man's face. He scowled at her, and she could have sworn she heard him growling low in his throat. She took a step back, and wondered if returning to her owl state would be the smarter thing to do. She didn't like standing naked in front of him, but with no clothing handy, she did what she could to cover herself.

  He'd said she knew him, that she'd been mind-wiped. She was inclined to believe him. She couldn't remember anything beyond the past two months with any clarity. Which is why she'd stayed so close to the compound. She had nowhere else to go.

  Dylan had disappeared along with everyone else, and she was stuck fending for herself in the nearby wilderness. It had been hard adapting herself as an owl for the past few days, but finding food as a bird was much easier than finding food as a human. She still shuddered at the thought of what she'd had to eat. Her stomach growled when she thought of real food, and she was just about to ask this Mackenzie if he had any to spare.

  "You don't have a mate.” The venom in his sudden words shocked her. Robyn gasped at his change in demeanor. He'd gone from trying not to scare her to being downright scary himself.

  He was a tall man, with wild chestnut hair and a stubbly beard to match. His button-up shirt was hopelessly wrinkled and had been carelessly put on, revealing his muscular chest through a few undone buttons. Even his chest hair seemed unruly. But through it all, she saw a handsome man, one who'd probably stop her heart if he cleaned himself up. As it was, his predatory stance alone was sexy as hell, and she suddenly found herself hard-pressed to remember what her mate even looked like.