by Lora Leigh
She turned and stalked back to her room. Evidently, this time, she left the door open.
Lobo shook his head. “One of these days, remind me to kill Tiberian. Slowly,” he muttered of his brother. “Very slowly.”
He left the room, throwing his hand up in a silent farewell and heading, Devil knew, for the cells.
Where he was heading himself.
Turning to his mate and lifting her chin with his fingers, he placed a quick kiss to her waiting lips. “I won’t be long,” he promised.
“Better not be,” she warned him. “Because I think I want to bite you again.”
He paused, turning back to her quickly, hunger gleaming in his gaze as Kate stared up at him with definite interest.
“One hour,” he promised.
“You have forty-five minutes,” she decided.
His gaze narrowed.
“Want to try for forty?”
A manly grunt and a snarl, and he was quickly striding from the room, definitely intent on making the most of his forty minutes.
Which was forty minutes longer than she should have had to wait, she decided with a smile as she stared around the destruction littering her bedroom floor. Ah well, it would give her time to move into his bedroom. She liked it better anyway.
EIGHT
There wasn’t much left of the human to question.
The Breed known as Graeme stared down at the bloodied face, split lips, the swollen eyes, and had to force himself not to rip the bastard’s head off.
But, he had the information he wanted.
He’d had the information he wanted hours ago though. It had really taken no more than flexing the feline claws his nails became and raking the sharpened tips, normally hidden in a groove at the top of his finger, over the man’s chest. There were now four bloody furrows that would need stitches soon.
If Graeme decided to allow him to live longer.
The pilot wasn’t in much better shape, though he’d had less information. A fly-by-night pilot that hired his services out for a paltry amount, considering the risk he’d taken this time.
This one, he’d simply turn over to the Bureau of Breed Affairs agent being sent to collect him.
The other, Graeme wanted to keep just a while longer. He had a feeling his friends might come looking for him. Sometimes there was a sense of loyalty among humans that made men do stupid things. Things like attempting to rescue friends who had made decidedly poor choices.
Besides, Devil’s woman wanted certain information for her father. Information Lobo Reever wouldn’t mind having as well. There were several questions regarding his wife’s death that had yet to be answered. Questions he knew the Wolf Breed needed before bringing his brother, Tiberian, back to the States.
Until then, he could simply have fun and take his aggressions out on the human for a while. After all, a Breed that had been driven slowly insane over the years, only to find that sanity rather abruptly once again, needed something to amuse himself with until he had his own plans in place.
“Just kill me,” the soldier pleaded as he struggled to open eyes swollen shut. “Please just kill me.”
The stench of the man’s urine, spilled in weakening terror, offended Graeme’s senses.
“Do you deserve to die?” he asked, flexing then retracting his claws as he fought to keep from giving him exactly what he was begging for. “I don’t think you deserve to die yet. You haven’t given me enough information to pay for such mercy.”
The soldier whimpered as Graeme rolled his eyes in disgust.
Reaching up to rub at his jaw thoughtfully, he pulled back at the last second with a grimace. The last thing he needed was to risk messing up the disguise he’d created. He couldn’t afford to allow his identity to be revealed just yet.
He needed just a little more time before he could shed the Graeme appearance and return to claim what was his.
“I don’t know anything more.” The soldier disturbed Graeme’s thoughts as he sobbed the declaration. “I swear, I don’t know anything more.”
Graeme grunted at the vow. “You stink of a liar.”
Cutting the ropes that bound him to the chair, he dragged the moaning soldier to a cell and tossed him to the cot on the floor. Agony resounded in the human’s moans as he lay completely still.
Maybe he’d cracked a rib, Graeme decided in unconcern. He’d mention it to the medic he’d requested to check the bastard out.
“I was merciful,” he told the man as he locked the cell doors. “Ever been skinned alive? Or dissected alive? I could show you how it feels if you’d like. I know exactly how it’s done.”
And how it felt. How it ripped through the mind because the drugs refused to allow mercy and kept the subject conscious. What it felt like to have some bastard handle his guts with uncaring hands—
He forced the memory back as the killing rage and dark insanity tempted the animal instincts that were far too close to the surface.
The soldier had pissed himself again.
“Damn, son, at least I held my water until they actually began slicing me open,” he muttered. “Show a little courage why don’t you.”
He’d have fared far better had he not screamed like a little girl as Graeme flashed the wicked canines at the side of his mouth in a vicious snarl no more than an inch from his face.
“Medic will be here in a bit,” he called back. “We’ll get you something to eat later, a drink maybe. Then we’ll see what your skin looks like hanging on the wall to dry.”
Hell, how much water was the bastard’s kidneys holding anyway? If he pissed himself much more, then he was going to dehydrate for sure.
“Graeme, stop terrorizing the prisoner,” Lobo ordered as Graeme stepped into the control room and locked the door behind him.
“Boss.” Graeme nodded. “Surprised to see you here.”
Hell, this fucking Wolf was like a ghost or something. He was one of the few men that could slip into the control room and watch him without Graeme sensing his presence.
“Yes, I would imagine you are,” Lobo answered, his hooded gaze watching him carefully. “You know, the Bureau of Breed Affairs has an APB out on a Bengal Breed that was once dissected and skinned alive. Wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Graeme blinked back at him in surprise. “I don’t know about the Bengal part, but I could produce a Lion Breed that’s been up close and personal with it,” he grunted, biting back his fury. “Fuckers damned near drove me crazy.”
They had stolen his mind. Hell, they might have stolen his soul.
“Still claiming Lion status are you?” Lobo questioned lazily.
“Registered and everything,” Graeme growled back at him. “Do you have a problem with me, boss?”
“No, no problem at all.” Lobo shook his head. “But, perhaps you have a problem with me.”
That one stopped him.
“What kind of problem?” Graeme asked carefully, allowing his suspicion to show rather than hiding it behind a wall of stoicism as he would have before coming to the Reever lands.
“A problem concerning my loyalty to those who give me theirs,” he stated softly. “You’ve proven yourself more than once, and I’ve expressed several times that loyalty goes both ways here. I’m not a man you have to lie to, unless you’re out to deceive me.”
“I’ll spread the word, boss.” Graeme nodded, staring back at Reever as though uncertain where he was going with the chastisement. “I’ll assure each of them, of my own personal belief that you mean every word you’re saying too.”
Yeah, right. This man and Jonas Wyatt were rumored to be thick as fucking thieves. And Wyatt was overturning every fucking stone in New Mexico searching for the Bengal he had that APB on. That would be one stupid fucker if he trusted Lobo with his identity.
Lobo’s lips quirked in amusement. “You do that, Graeme,” he murmured. “You do that.” Then he turned back to the security glass and stared at the prisoner as he crossed his arms o
ver his chest and stroked his jaw thoughtfully. “Have you called the medic?”
“Yep. He’ll be here soon.” Graeme leaned against the wall, his lips curling in amusement as he glanced at the prisoner himself. “I think he’s going to need rehydration soon though. The bastard keeps pissing himself.”
Lobo grunted at that. “Coward.”
“Now, boss, maybe he just doesn’t have very strong kidneys, ya know? What do they call that? Inconsistency or some shit?”
“Incontinence,” Lobo snorted.
“Or something.” He shrugged. “I’ll have the medic strap an IV to his ass and rehydrate him so we can help him relieve himself again.”
“We’re keeping him?” Lobo asked, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Graeme’s intent.
“Why not,” Graeme drawled. “The boy has friends. Long-association-type friends. Those kinds of friends come looking for you when you’re missing.”
“Loyalty,” Lobo murmured then, still staring at the prisoner.
“Stupidity,” Graeme retorted. “But, I can work with that kind of stupidity if given a chance.”
Lobo nodded. “Very well, see what you can do with it. You have three days to draw his friends out, then I want him stitched up, patched up and ready to fly out to Haven to appear before the Wolf Breed Tribunal for sentencing. He struck against a Wolf Breed and conspired to kidnap one to turn her over to research. That’s a capital offense and only the Tribunal can sentence him for it.”
“Only if he survives the transfer.” Graeme smiled coldly. “Stupid bastards like that try to escape, get killed and save the Tribunal hours of needless debate and months of protests by humans.”
Lobo chuckled at that. “Yeah, but hell, they like their little amusements as well.” The look he gave Graeme was one he assumed brooked no refusal.
Graeme let him keep thinking that. For the moment.
“Gotcha, save him for Tribunal amusement. Check.” He tipped his fingers to his forehead in a careless salute.
“And you let me know if that Bengal with the APB out on him needs a friend,” Lobo reminded him as he turned to leave. “I make a hell of a friend, Graeme. A bad enemy to make, but a hell of a friend.”
With one last glance over his shoulder, Lobo left the room and closed the door behind him.
Whew.
Now that was what a Breed could consider a damned good close call.
Especially a Breed with an APB out on his ass and a Bureau director determined to reel him in like a fish on a hook.
Graeme had never considered himself reelable. Or hookable.
He grinned at the image before taking his seat and releasing the electronic lock to the door the medic used to access the cells.
“Be careful of that one, Doc,” he spoke into the mic as the medic made his way across the cement floor. “He likes to water his cot a bit.”
“You terrorizing the prisoners again, Graeme?” the Breed chuckled.
It wasn’t their first prisoner, or the first one Graeme had caused to piss himself.
“It’s getting too damned easy to do it, Doc,” he answered. “We need to find prisoners made of sterner stuff. Why don’t you put out a memo to all those weak-assed soldiers the Council keeps sending. We need someone tougher to play with.”
“Right. Memo. Send sterner stuff,” the medic laughed as Graeme opened the cell and watched the medic and two Wolf Breed guards enter the barred enclosure.
“Yeah,” Graeme murmured. “Send sterner stuff. At least give me a fucking challenge.”
He snorted at that.
That wasn’t possible. It wasn’t possible because the best they’d had to offer at any given time had already had their playdates with him. He was alive, they were dead. Every last one of them.
Screams echoed in his head, agony sliced through his veins. A scream of rage built in his throat as the memories surged through his head and tempted the beast he’d managed to chain.
His claws flexed and his body tensed to jump from the chair as the insane rage that had festered in him for so many years threatened to slip free once again.
At the last second, he managed one last rational thought.
His lifeline.
Gentle eyes. The scent of moonlight and shy laughter.
“Who are you?” she whispered, her head tilting to the side as the colors of the desert shaded her head and brushed across her shoulders in the silken strands. “If you’re here to kill me, why not just do it and get it over with.”
Oh, he was there to kill her.
The animal could taste her blood, salivated for it as the insanity the man lived within relished the moment.
“What makes you think I’m here to kill you? Can’t I enjoy the night as well? Besides, I was here first. You’re the one that found me, not the other way around.”
He felt her surprise. Hell, it was no less than his own. He imagined the animal snarled at him in complete shock, questioning the seemingly rational tone of voice he used.
“Did I find you?” She smiled. Right there, staring into the shadows where he hid, the faintest little smile as her arms relaxed just a bit where they were crossed over her breasts.
“What do you call it?” he asked her as he leaned against the rough stone of the cliff at his side. “I was standing here minding my own business when you sneaked up on me. I call that finding me.”
What the hell was happening to him?
He could smell her, he knew her for who she was rather than who others thought her to be. Her scent was just as sweet as it had ever been, unmarred by the filth of male possession or the acrid stink of lies and deceptions.
There was just the smell of the woman, the moonlight, regret, a hint of fear, and perhaps, hell, there was the faintest scent of weariness and desire.
She shook her head, her confusion scenting the air between them. “I didn’t even know you were here. I used to come out here all the time just to enjoy the night.”
“So why did you stop? Better yet, why return the minute I decided to enjoy the view here? Maybe I should be scared of you.” How the hell was he so calm? How had he managed to remember what it was like to tease her so gently and watch that shy pleasure as it began to warm her gaze?
“Yeah, I’m really scary.” She rolled her eyes at the thought, her expression betraying her belief that nothing could be further from the truth.
“You could be some kind of assassin. One of those seductresses the Genetics Council sends out to lure innocent male Breeds back to the labs,” he pointed out.
She tipped her head to the side and watched his shadow in interest now.
“No.” She shook her head. “Not a seductress.”
He had her complete attention. It was focused entirely on him and the subtle scent of feminine attraction mixed with something deeper, something stronger that he knew he should recognize but couldn’t.
“Hmm, assassin then?” He let her see a grin, a teasing curve of his lips as he shifted just enough to allow the moonlight to reveal it while keeping the rest of his face hidden. “Are you here to kill me? I’m just a helpless Breed slipping away for a few hours before I have to save the world again.”
That was what Rule Breaker had muttered that morning as he strode through the predawn light to join the team heading into the desert for patrol: Out to save the fucking world again. Give me a break.
“I’m definitely no assassin,” she promised him, that shy little smile teasing him again. “I’m just a secretary that enjoys the night. A chance meeting in the dark, never to be repeated.”
“Never?” The thought of that had forced the animal to step back another pace and allow one more inch of sanity to curl about its neck in restraint. “Don’t tell me that, you may break my heart.”
“I’m no heartbreaker either,” she sighed, stepping back. “I better go.”
“Promise you’ll come back.” Go? She was leaving him alone? Again?
The animal strained against the bonds that were far too weak to
hold it if it became insistent.
She paused. “I shouldn’t come back.”
But she wanted to. He could feel it. Taste it on the air around them.
“I’ll be here tomorrow,” he promised. “Just for a few minutes. I promise. Just to talk a minute. I won’t keep you long.”
He should be pouncing on her. He should be tasting her terror and her blood as she stared into his eyes and realized she was about to pay for her crimes. Pay for the hell she’d sent him to.
She looked out at the darkened landscape for long moments before giving a resigned little sigh.
“What the hell,” she finally breathed out wearily. “It beats the nightmares.”
She turned and moved away from him, a slight shadow amid the darkness, blending with it for a moment before stepping into the moonlight once again and returning to the safety of the house and the protection of the Breeds she’d slipped away from.
It beat the nightmares.
She had no idea, he realized. Just as the other hadn’t known the past that endangered her, neither did this one.
The only thing left of the person she had been was that slight scent of shy, hungry need. Not a sexual need, at least, not then, all those years ago. But a need for warmth, for caring.
Everything else had changed, and he suddenly wanted to know why.
Why was the girl she had been so overshadowed that even her scent had been altered in ways?
And what was that fucking taste—
It hit him then.
Just enough rational thought had filtered through the fury and insanity to drag the animal back long enough for him to make sense of a lifetime of hell.
Her blood had saved his life, but it had turned him into an enraged animal.
When the soldiers had caught him again, that added quality in his blood had spurred them into experiments so horrendous it had broken what little sanity he’d still possessed.
It had been the blood that had transfused him.
The scent of what the Breeds called mating heat, the taste of it in his mouth, the small glands swelling beneath his tongue each time he came near her.