by Lora Leigh
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.
“Th . . . 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 too much. 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.
“First floor, center window,” she told Graeme. “He’s there, but he’s not alone.”
Mutt and Mongrel were with him, but they weren’t the only ones.
“There’s something out there,” Graeme muttered, the low growl beneath his voice filled with impending danger. “Something not natural.”
And Breeds were?
“She’s with me,” was all Cassie said, feeling his start of surprise as the spirit turned back and waved her forward imperatively.
Before the Bengal Primal could stop her, she dropped from the wall, crouched, then raced across the lawn in the exact line the spirit indicated. Following the faint presence, she slid into the shadows at the far side of the house and crouched within the
decorative brush growing alongside it.
There, she waited, watching, aware of Graeme, her father, Cullen, Cat and Claire as they moved more slowly into position alongside her.
“Back door,” Graeme breathed into the night. “I’ll be with you; the others have the guards. Give the signal when you’re ready.”
When the spirit she followed was ready.
She met the gaze of the distraught mother as she waited, knowing it sensed what she was fighting to hold back. Fear filled a mother’s expression as compassion lurked in her gaze.
The guards passed, moved along their perimeter, the dogs looking, sniffing the air; they were wary but continued silently as she glared at them and urged them on.
As they passed the corner of the house, the second team was nearing; the spirit moved quickly.
Staying low, Cassie followed swiftly, aware of Graeme behind her as her father and the others moved to disable the guards.
They slipped into the house, the unlocked door opening and closing silently behind them.
They entered what was obviously a break room for the guards, thankfully deserted. The spirit didn’t pause as she led them through the darkened rooms before pausing outside a set of open double doors.
The sound of voices had her flattening to the wall, trusting the shadows to shield her as Graeme seemed to disappear into another set of shadows.
To protect you . . . the wavering image whispered as she slowly disappeared. All to protect you . . .
* * *
• • •
His grandfather.
Yeah, it was definitely his grandfather. Dog stared dispassionately at the old man, seeing his father in the old man’s features, but not in the scent of corruption and desperation.
He remembered his father’s scent. Gun oil and ammunition; below it, honor, strength. Grief.
He’d grieved for his mate until the day he’d died.
Aaron lowered himself stiffly to the leather sofa facing Dog, tired gray eyes lifting to where Dog stood silently in the middle of the room.
He shared blood with this man. He could smell the blood bond, and he cursed it.
Mutt stood next to the entrance with one of Aaron’s security guards. A former navy SEAL. A hard-eyed soldier who watched curiously. Dog couldn’t sense hatred or prejudice coming from him, but he sensed a determination to do his job and protect his employer.
Behind him, Mongrel stood with the other security guard. That one reeked of hatred and discontent. Humans. They never listened to all those Breed documentaries they watched that preached the acuity of a Breed’s senses to pick up such emotions.
“I was surprised to learn you filed for Separation as well as a Disavowal from the woman you’d chosen as your mate,” Aaron commented, watching him closely. “I expected you to object to disavowing her.”
“Why did you expect that?” Let the bastard dig this hole a little deeper. If he was lucky, very lucky, then he might say something that would exonerate Dog when he cut his throat.
Aaron lowered his graying head and stared at the drink he held. Regret spilled from him. It didn’t overpower the scent of core evil, but it was regret.
“Your father,” he said before he tossed back the drink, then lifted his gaze to Dog once again. “He was a good son. A loyal son. Until your mother. Even after her death he refused to come home no matter my attempts to convince him.”
“Yeah, he could be a little stubborn,” Dog drawled coolly. “He might have blamed you for her death, though, feared for his son’s safety. Little things like that can make a man stubborn, I hear.”
It could make a man hate. His father had hated this man and Dog knew it. Not that he remembered his father saying it, but he’d known it, even as a child.
“Yes, it can.” That regret once again. The bastard. “Before he went into those labs to train the Breeds there, Carson, your father, was a hardened soldier. He knew the value of the program, understood the work they were doing there. All that changed with her, though.” He watched Dog for long moments, as though he expected him to say something. “She didn’t even have a name. He called her Angel, though.”
His mother was an angel, his father had told him more than once.
Dog could feel his skin prickling with the fury he held back, his head filled with so much rage it threatened the control he had a stranglehold on.
“Chet, get me another drink,” Aaron ordered the guard at the back of the room.
Dog let a smile curl his lips at the resentment that tore through the soldier, the feeling that he was better than some servant to take such orders.
“Chet doesn’t think much of playing bartender,” Dog warned Aaron, watching the surprise that filled his lined expression. “Thinks he’s too good for it.”
Aaron shook his head. “Chet’s a good boy. His father was on Carson’s team. SEALs. They don’t come any better.”
“Hmm,” Dog muttered before giving the man a mocking smile. “Keep thinking that. Now, my time’s rather limited. Would you like to tell me why you suddenly want to claim your Breed grandson when the order to find me and turn me over to the Council was the order that went out when I was a child?”
Aaron accepted the drink from the soldier, though Dog detected a sudden wariness that hadn’t been there before.
“Age brings a different perspective.” Aaron breathed out roughly. “Both my children are gone. The legacy I’d leave behind at my death is gone.” There was the faintest hint of a plea in those eyes as Dog stared back at him. “Carson haunts me.” He swallowed tightly. “Choices I made then haunt me.”
Dog wanted to laugh. What held the enraged bark of laughter back he wasn’t certain.
“And you think threatening me with Cassie’s safety, with revealing my bloodline to the Genetics Council without the benefit of your fortune to protect me, is the way to handle that? What makes you think I need your fortune to protect me?”
“It’s not the fortune.” Aaron watched him now with a calculating gleam in his eyes. “It’s information you want, isn’t it, Cain?”
“Dog,” he corrected him smoothly.
A frown snapped between Aaron’s gray brows. “Cain . . .”
“Cainis. I believe the translation is ‘dog,’” Dog corrected him. “My name is Dog.”
“You’ll take the name Cain,” the old man gritted out. “It’s a family name given to the oldest son in each generation stretching back over a hundred years. Your father was Carson Cain, my name is Aaron Cain.”
Yeah, yeah, good old family legacies, right? That hadn’t done his parents a lot of good. “And my name is Dog,” Dog finished for him.
“As I was saying,” Aaron continued with a disagreeable snap. “It’s information you want. Information I have and would be more than willing to provide you in exchange for your agreement to not only disavow your mate, but also the Breeds as a whole. You’ll take your place here, as my heir, and take over the various businesses. If you conduct yourself as I wish, in one year, I’ll turn over the information I have on the Genetics Council. Extensive information.”
That bark of laughter escaped; Dog couldn’t help it. “And why should I trust you have information that the Breeds haven’t acquired?”
Aaron turned to Chet and nodded.
Oh, Chet wasn’t a happy little soldier if the scent of malicious anger coming from him was any indication. But he was a good little soldier evidently. He collected a large envelope from a side table and stepped to Dog, extending it silently.
Keeping his eye on Aaron, Dog opened the file and extracted the pages within. There were three. Names were redacted, but there was no doubt it was a printout from a larger file detailing the identities of three of the Council members who sat on the Genetics Council.
He went over the information carefully, in case the pages somehow disappeared in the bloodshed coming
. It was quite interesting, surprising really. If he’d been in the mood to be surprised.
Tucking the pages back into the envelope, he secured the flap and handed them back to the soldier. Old Chet wasn’t expecting that. He took the envelope hesitantly, looking back at his boss as though asking for guidance.
“It’s yours.” Aaron watched him warily. “All of it will be yours in a year . . .” He trailed off as Dog shook his head.
“If your identity is turned over to them, you’ll never be safe,” Aaron threatened him.
“Oh, good old Chet will take care of that either way,” Dog drawled, the look he gave the soldier assuring him he knew exactly what he’d do. “Spies rarely keep such things to themselves. And he’s a good little Council bitch, aren’t you, Chet?”
The soldier straightened, his hand settling on the weapon he wore as Dog chuckled knowingly. “That can be discussed later.” He turned back to Aaron. “That’s not the information I want.”
He could sense a vibration in the air, silent but steady, danger moving steadily closer as Chet made up his mind to kill. Not yet. He wanted to survive the bloodshed, Dog sensed. But it would come soon.
“What more could you want?” Confusion flickered across Aaron’s expression.
“I want to know what makes a man put out the order to kill his own son.” Dog wanted proof. “What made you think that hunting him down like an animal and threatening his woman, murdering her, then going after his child, would work for you?”
“There was no order to kill.” Aaron labored to his feet, grief, anger, hatred, flooding him. “Carson was to be returned. He was supposed to come home.” He stalked across the room and slapped the drink to the bar before gripping the edge with both hands and shuddering. “He left them no choice. The Council gave the order if they couldn’t take him alive, to kill him.” He turned back to Dog, his face heavy with the weight of that loss. “He chose to die.”
Incomprehensible. Aaron C. Ryder couldn’t imagine how his son could choose to die rather than turning his son over and accepting that his father had been behind his mate’s murder.