Primal

by Lora Leigh; Ava Gray; Jory Strong; Michelle Rowen

  “I’m worse than you’ll ever imagine,” he growled back at her. “Your worst fucking nightmare, sweetheart, if you run. Trust me on that. Because you don’t want to push me.”

  Because he was figuring something out himself, something he hadn’t thought possible. In the past hour, he had begun to suspect that Kita Claire Engalls, the willful, stubborn little princess to a pharmaceutical empire, was actually his mate.

  She eased back, her gaze still locked with his, eyes narrowed, her body almost trembling with anger. Anger and arousal. Hell, the subtle sweet scent of her pussy was making him crazed with the need to have her. To taste her.

  “This conversation is finished,” she informed him imperiously as her delicate little nose lifted, nostrils flaring in feminine offense. “You can leave now.”

  Oh, could he now? As though he were a dog to be ordered outside for disobeying its mistress? It so didn’t work that way for a feline Breed. At least, not for long.

  He knew her. He knew her expressions, her moods, her laughter, and her teasing. Until now, he hadn’t really known her anger, and he couldn’t say he was comfortable with it, but he could handle it.

  “Don’t push me, sweetheart,” he warned her softly. “Don’t force me into something we’ll both regret.”

  He had no doubt in his mind she wouldn’t hate him for life if he forced her into the mating heat, and he sure as hell couldn’t warn her about it first.

  Turning on his heel, he stalked from the bedroom without saying more. The problem was, he was so damned close to tasting her he couldn’t trust himself. He wanted nothing more than to jerk her into his arms and take her lips in a kiss he knew would only fan the flames burning between them.

  Hell, he hadn’t expected to find his mate here, of all places.

  The Engalls princess? Heir to a pharmaceutical company that had worked with Phillip Brandenmore to create a line of drugs potentially fatal to Breeds?

  Brandenmore’s scent blocker had made its way into the hands of pureblood societies and the Council-loyal coyote Breed soldiers still desperate to capture the mates of high-ranking Breeds or, God forbid, one of the hybrid children that had been born.

  Especially the hybrids born of the wolves. The hybrid wolf-coyote Cassie Sinclair, as well as the child of Aiden and Charity Chance and the son of Dash and Elizabeth Sinclair. Children were so rare within the wolf Breeds that the Council scientists still operating would take any risk to acquire one.

  Added to that was the drug therapy created to control a Breed mind. Horrific, destructive, it had nearly driven Elyianna Morrey insane even as it allowed her traitorous lab techs to steal and manipulate valuable mating heat data in an attempt to sell it, to Phillip Brandenmore and Horace Engalls.

  Making his way back downstairs, Creed began moving to protect the delicate woman he suspected was his mate, especially from herself. She was in more danger than she knew.

  In past weeks Creed had found signs of someone watching the house, but he could detect no unusual scents. Her father was acting strangely out of character, and there were rumors that the pureblood societies were looking to Kita to force Engalls to turn over information he had on the drugs his brother-in-law had given him to manufacturer. Those sample drugs and the ability to produce them on a large scale had been destroyed in an as-yet unexplained explosion at Engalls’s manufacturing facility.

  The Breeds hadn’t done it. The information they had gathered said the pureblood societies hadn’t done it either. That left but a few suspect paramilitary groups, but the Breeds had no sources within those organizations who could help them reliably finger those responsible for the explosion.

  One thing was for certain: there were too many people looking to use Kita as leverage against her father. Get the girl, and the research could be theirs.

  The Breeds desperately needed that research to go along with information provided just weeks before by the daughter of a Breed scientist. Storme Montague had hidden certain research on mates, primal fever, and a vaccine created in a little known lab in the Andes before the Breed rescues had reach that area. The vaccine mimicked one created in Russia for the coyotes and the men and women who worked with them. The vaccine, originally intended as an anti-body against a feared contagion associated with feral fever, was now revealing itself as a much-needed component in the mating and ability to conceive within the Breed community.

  Piece by piece they were gaining answers to their questions about their own biology and the mysteries surrounding their creation and their abilities to procreate. They couldn’t afford to lose what little research hadn’t been destroyed because they hadn’t realized the danger it could later represent.

  And Creed couldn’t afford to lose the only woman who had made him feel. Who made him realize he was more than just a Breed. She made him realize there might be a chance, however small, that he could be a man as well.

  THREE

  She managed to slip away from him.

  A growl slipped past his throat as one of his human partners gave a loud, exaggerated cough before turning to stare at him in shock. They were standing in the center of Kita’s bedroom as her father braced his arms on her opened balcony door.

  “I paid you to keep this from happening.” Horace Engalls turned on them as though it were their fault she had escaped. “You were to protect her.”

  “We were hired to keep anyone from getting to her. You didn’t inform us she would end up running away,” Creed pointed out.

  “She’s always slipping out,” Horace snarled back at him, his brown eyes flickering with red rage. “You knew that.”

  “And we’ve always been aware of the nights that was happening,” Creed replied with far more calm than he felt. “She’s obviously far quieter than her friends have been when they’ve picked her up.”

  When it came to stealth, those women were like children in a candy store. All big eyes, giggles, and feminine charm.

  “She’s been taken then.” A tremor vibrated through Horace’s voice as he wiped his hands over his face. “God, they’ve taken her.” He lifted his head, his eyes damp now with a father’s tears. “Who could have taken her?”

  To feel pity for this man went against everything Creed knew of him. Yet, the pity was there. In Horace Engalls’s face, his eyes, his scent, there was only love and fear for his child.

  “We’ll find out,” he promised, knowing she hadn’t been taken. She had run.

  The slap to her face the day before, two years of seclusion and fear, and she had had enough.

  It would no doubt relieve Horace’s mind to know this, but Creed had a far different agenda than bringing her home.

  “How will you find out?” Horace swallowed tightly, visibly shaking now as the fear began to coalesce inside him. “There’s no ransom note. There’s nothing.”

  “But there will be,” Creed assured him. He turned to the two men working with him. “Stay here, put a tap on the phone. I’ll see what I can find out and report back.” Turning back to Horace, he hardened his expression and his voice. “Stay here by the phones. Someone will call, and I doubt it will take long. The moment you hear something, one of my men will contact me.”

  He turned his back on the father and moved quickly down the hall to his own small suite and the leather bag he kept packed for emergencies.

  A change of clothes, weapons, ammo, and a small medical kit were included. Pulling leather riding pants, a black long-sleeve shirt, and a leather jacket out of the closet, he tossed them on the bed before reaching for the black riding boots.

  He was dressed and moving down the steps in five minutes flat. He ignored the three men walking into the study: Horace and the two human enforcers assigned to Covert Operations with the Bureau of Breed Affairs.

  The lethal black, specially designed motorcycle sat innocently in the drive. Its frame was based on one of the less powerful touring cycles, but every aspect of its functionality had been adapted with Breed technology. Straddling it quickly, Creed pulled
the full-face helmet over his head, strapped it beneath his chin, then started the ignition with a flick of his fingers.

  Before pulling from the drive, he set the helmet to full security mode and then spoke into the voice-activated controls.

  “Activate Engalls, Kita, tracking protocol on all tags.”

  The digital display came up on the inside of the visor as the computer answered. “All vehicles presently accounted for, and all but one deactivated and located in the main garage. Vehicle three is being tracked through both automotive tracking as well as electronic tag detected in Engalls, Kita wallet. Location currently identified and highlighted on your screen.”

  The digital display reconfigured to show the small red dot identified as Kita’s vehicle at approximately five hours ahead of him.

  “Computer, display routes to intersect in quickest possible time.”

  The map reconfigured once again. He could shave two hours off his time and catch up with her well before evening.

  “Onboard navigation detected in vehicle,” the computer spoke unexpectedly. “GPS programmed and displaying onboard directions to destination.”

  God love her heart, Creed almost smiled. Kita liked to say she was directionally challenged. She loved that GPS, which was the reason he had tied the trackers into the navigation on each vehicle her father owned.

  The computer came back seconds later with the address of her destination, and this time, he couldn’t help but smile. She was driving right into the thick of Breed territory and didn’t even know it.

  He loved it. He couldn’t have asked for a better destination himself.

  “Call Wyatt,” he ordered the computer as he turned onto the interstate and began heading out of New York toward Virginia. The coordinates the computer laid out would have him arriving at her location before she did. A small Tennessee community that barely numbered in the hundreds during the tourist off season. And it was definitely not tourist season for that area right now.

  “Wyatt is currently unavailable,” the computer replied.

  “Call Wyatt. Verification pass, tango, seven.”

  The computer paused for long seconds before replying. “Verification pass approved, Enforcer Raines. Director Wyatt will be on the line momentarily.”

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  “Wyatt,” Jonas answered shortly.

  “She’s on the run,” Creed informed him immediately.

  “The Engalls brat?” Jonas growled. “Do we have a situation?”

  “We can make it a situation,” Creed replied before quickly launching into his explanation. He could almost hear Jonas thinking hard and fast on the other line.

  “I’ll have him contacted,” the director finally stated thoughtfully. “Keep her incommunicado until further notice. I’ll put the plan in effect and see if we can get Engalls to cooperate.”

  Which meant Brandenmore wasn’t cooperating. The deranged CEO of Brandenmore Research had become so twisted, so pure evil and cunning that even as his mind was being eaten away, he was still scheming to destroy the Breeds.

  The only hope left was the chance that Engalls could figure out where that research had been hidden. The Breeds had exhaustively searched every known location associated with Brandenmore and Engalls—corporate offices, research sites, private residences—but had found no trace of the research the Breeds knew Brandenmore had developed with Engalls’s help.

  “Do you know where she’s headed?” Jonas questioned.

  “I have her navigation system tagged as well as her wallet,” Creed answered. “Her location was punched into the nav, and I have it now.”

  “Excellent.” The satisfaction in Jonas’s voice had Creed’s lips tightening for a moment. “Keep her out of sight and out of communication, Creed. And pray.” For a moment, the agony Creed knew the other man was going through slipped into his voice. “Pray Engalls cooperates when he suspects the Genetics Council has kidnapped his daughter.”

  And he was praying. But, Creed admitted, he had been praying since he learned what Brandenmore had done to the three-month-old infant: injected with the same serum he had injected into himself. The serum that was quickly killing him. And he refused to give the information on it, refused to do more than give them the original serum and demand they learn why it was destroying him and not the child. As though he feared giving the Breeds his research would result in whatever was needed to save Amber only.

  Creed couldn’t swear that wouldn’t be the direction the Breeds took.

  Let him die, and Amber would die. By refusing to turn over the research, Brandenmore was ensuring they dug deeper into the ailment destroying his brain. Unfortunately, they weren’t going to find the answers in time to save him from death. And with him dead, the serum he had used, Ely had assured them, would no longer be of use without Brakenmore’s living body to test any cure on.

  A double-edged sword that Creed knew was putting not just the child at risk, but the entire Breed community as well.

  Jonas had known the only weakness in the Brandenmore and Engalls families was Kita, Horace Engalls’s daughter. He also knew other groups would be aware of that as well. Creed had been sent in to ensure she was safe, and to ensure that when the time was right, the Breeds would have possession of her.

  Simply kidnapping her wouldn’t convince her to transfer her loyalty from her father to them, though. Creed had been waiting, waiting, determined to take advantage of the slightest weakness where she was concerned.

  If the Breeds had Kita on their side, then they would have Horace.

  And Creed now had an ace.

  Mating heat.

  That twinge of guilt was only growing, though, tightening his chest and pricking at his soul. Because now, he knew her. And he knew, if she ever learned he had deceived her, she might end up being the only woman capable of turning her back on the phenomena.

  Now wouldn’t that just suck!

  SHE WAS HOME.

  Kita stepped into the small house, closed and carefully locked the door behind her, then let out a weary breath. The drive from New York wasn’t overly long, but this time it had seemed to take forever.

  Of course, if she had refrained from watching the rearview mirror, it might not have taken near as long, nor seemed so tiring. But she kept expecting to see Creed and that wicked black motorcycle of his riding behind her.

  She felt stalked. Like prey. Like a hare running from the wolf and unable to find a hole deep enough to hide within.

  She was safe now. She had to be. This hole had to be deep enough, because it was the only place she had left to escape to, the only place no one knew of.

  Deep in the mountains of Tennessee, hidden outside a tiny little community of only a few hundred. The house wasn’t in her name; it wasn’t tied to anyone or anything she was associated with.

  Her eyes closed, she ignored the sense that she had left something behind, or perhaps that something had followed her. She had been careful, and she had learned how to be careful.

  Creed had taught her that over the past year.

  She had watched him, she had listened and taken notes, and when she ran, she had remembered everything he’d told her about how to escape a possible enemy.

  He wasn’t the enemy, but he might as well be at the moment.

  “Did you have a nice drive?”

  A screech erupted from her throat as her eyes flew open, her hands jerking, scrambling for the doorknob and managing to do no more than turn before he was suddenly there.

  Kita cried out in shock as his hand flattened against the door, pushing it closed and pressing her against it.

  Full body contact.

  In the year he had been in her father’s employ, she had never felt the full effect of his hard, muscular body, or the heated warmth it generated.

  Her head jerked back, pressing against the wood, her gaze connecting with his as she breathed in a shocked gasp. Against her stomach, hard and engorged, his cock pressed into her.

  “Did
you really think I’d let you get away so easily?”

  Dark, rough, so sexy she swore her knees weakened.

  Kita swallowed tightly. “How did you find me?”

  “Maybe I’m just smarter than your average hired gun,” he drawled.

  Kita felt her lips. She hated it when that happened around him. That need to be kissed. It was so intense, an ache that quickly struck to other, much more sensitive areas.

  “I’m sure you are,” she retorted, but her tone wasn’t snappish or shrewish as she would have wished. It was soft. It was a come-on and she knew it even if it was involuntary. She only wished she could sound like that on demand. “Now, tell me how you managed it.”

  The smile that quirked the corner of his lips suddenly had her heart racing, the blood pounding furiously through her veins. It was such a wicked look. Such an extreme bad-boy look.

  Her thighs clenched, her clit became hot, swollen, and achy as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth and pressed.

  “I could do that better. Every time I see that pretty lip clenched between your teeth, you make me want to take a bite too.”

  She felt herself melt. Her juices eased from her pussy, saturating the folds between her thighs as she barely, only barely managed to hold back a whimper.

  “You haven’t even nibbled,” she whispered. “And I offered.”

  “Did you now?” His hand slid from where it was braced over her head, touched her shoulder, caressed to her elbow, then slid over the thin material of the sweater sleeve and gripped her wrist.

  Before Kita could grasp the meaning of what he was doing, he’d gripped both her wrists, pulled them quickly over her head, and secured them in one large hand.

  “Creed.” It was a protest. She was certain it was.

  It had to be a protest, she told herself. Dominance games really didn’t turn her on. She liked slow, easy touches. Foreplay that lasted forever. Or at least longer than three minutes.

  But she couldn’t help but realize her cunt was suddenly so sensitive that even the feel of her moisture easing from it was a caress.