by Lynn Hagen
Rick pulled back, sucking the head of Dorian’s cock, making Dorian writhe on the bags.
“Rick,” Dorian shouted as bright colors exploded in front of his eyes, shooting him past the moon and to another galaxy, his hips erratically pumping into that hot, sweet mouth. Rick drank him down until the last drop, letting his softened cock slip from his lips.
Dorian lay there in a daze. There wasn’t anything else he could do. Rick had sucked the energy right out of him.
“My turn, baby.” Rick gazed down at Dorian as he hovered, taking his lips in a gentle kiss. Dorian moaned as he wrapped his arms around Rick’s neck, pulling the large man closer. Rick’s tongue probed at Dorian’s lips until he parted them. His mate’s tongue swooped in, tasting Dorian, possessing him. He was nothing more than putty in the guy’s hands.
Dorian pulled his lips from Rick, gazing up into the man’s light-grey eyes. They were swimming in heat and desire…and love. Dorian would never tire of seeing his mate look at him that way. “Fuck me, Rick. I want you.”
“I’m going to come in your hot, tight ass,” Rick whispered into Dorian’s ear.
He swallowed hard and nodded, spreading his legs wide, inviting Rick to take what he wanted. Dorian would give his mate whatever he needed if the man would just fuck him. He was so desperate that he wasn’t above begging—and in fact, had.
A large hand brushed over Dorian’s skin as Rick settled between his legs. Dorian quickly wrapped his legs around his mate, pushing toward him before Rick had his cock in his hand, guiding the erection toward Dorian’s pulsing hole. He felt his heart racing as one fast thrust buried the thick, steel-hard erection into Dorian’s body to the hilt.
He cried out, his hands moving to grip Rick’s slamming hips. He could see the hunger building in the man’s eyes. They were dark, feral, and directed solely at Dorian. Rick drove against Dorian harder, deeper, one hard hand spanning Dorian’s hip as his lover held him still. The other hand was under Dorian’s shoulder, arching his body toward Rick’s devouring mouth.
Dorian was bucking against Rick, arching desperately, begging for his release. The bunched muscles in Rick’s forearms turned to granite as he pulled Dorian toward him and Dorian willingly went. He was now sitting on Rick’s lap, being lifted over and over again.
“I love you so much, gatito.”
Dorian didn’t have the brain capability at the moment to respond. Not when he was being impaled on Rick’s long, thick ten-inch cock.
It was too much for Dorian as Rick’s hand snaked between their sweat-slick bodies and enveloped his straining cock and pumped hard. Dorian threw his head back and let out a barely audible sound as hot ribbons of cum began to pulsate from his cock.
Dorian wailed when Rick changed angles and his sweet spot was struck over and over again. He jerked and shuddered as his cock tried to keep up with Rick’s aggressive demands. Dorian growled, biting into Rick’s shoulder, claiming him as Rick thrust harder.
Rick’s cock thrust into his ass a few more times before he felt the hot spurt of seed filling him. He shuddered, hating that this was over. He never wanted to leave Rick’s side. If only his mate could stay buried in him forever.
Rick sat with his back to the shelf as he watched Dorian sleep. He raised his hand to finger a strand of his mate’s hair where it lay against his cheek. It had grown long in the past few months. As he slid the silky strand between his fingers, Rick thought about how much his life had changed.
They were almost on the last leg of their journey, and Rick knew the pressure and stress were getting to his mate. The weariness in Dorian’s eyes hadn’t faded. He could tell the man was still fighting to stay sane.
Little did anyone know, but Rick was growing weary as well. This was not a life he would have chosen for either of them. He had been unsure in the beginning, and as he sat in this dark aisle, he still felt like he wasn’t the right man for the job.
“Will we ever have a normal life?” Dorian asked, although his eyes remained closed.
“That’s what we are fighting for, gatito.” Although lately Rick was losing sight of his goal. He was born to be an alpha, but he wasn’t cut out to be a leader of the Rebellions. He was filled with too many doubts and not enough solutions. The strength needed to keep moving forward was slowly dwindling inside of him.
Rick just wanted to take his mate home and forget the world outside existed. Was he a bad man for wanting something so simple, yet so far out of his reach?
Dorian sighed and glanced up at Rick, his Peruvian-brown eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “Let’s finish this war so we can go home and start our life together.”
Taking Dorian’s hand in his, Rick kissed the man’s knuckles. “In this together until the end.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Freedman breathed away his fury. This was not going to be a cakewalk—doable, but not easy. “The labs are not close to each other, but still close enough for an orchestrated attack.”
Rick slipped leather gloves over his hands, stretched his fingers, and turned to look off in the direction Freedman had been looking. “Has any of this been easy? After all the hell we’ve been through, this shouldn’t make us sweat.”
“Well, I can feel the moisture in my underwear,” Benito said as he lowered the binoculars. “Because those aren’t any kind of labs I’ve ever seen before.”
It was true. There weren’t any guard dogs or high fences, but the place looked state of the art. He had a feeling it was going to be harder getting into those two buildings than it was infiltrating any of the detention centers. And with Salvador not one-hundred percent, Freedman refused to allow the man to use any of his freaky-deaky powers.
They had nothing but human and changeling strength on their side now. Although they did have the coven. They were damn good in a fight. But the problem with that plan was the fact that it was broad daylight out. They needed to scout the buildings and see what they were up against. Rick had said he was sending in Miguel and Benito. The two weren’t on anyone’s radar.
Sometimes an unexpected ambush worked better than a full frontal attack.
“Okay, do you want us to go in now?” Miguel asked as he pulled his shoulder holster off and handed it off to Freedman. “I have a suit in the back of the truck.”
“You are just going into the lobby and ask the desk man for directions, Miguel. Nothing fancy,” Rick warned. “All we need to know is how well the place is monitored.”
“Trust me.” Miguel gave Rick a smile. “I know how to act lost and misguided.”
“It wouldn’t be an act,” Sasha murmured.
“At least he doesn’t cough up fur balls,” Benito defended his cousin.
Sasha hissed.
Benito laughed.
Freedman watched the two enforcers and wondered if he’d ever be able to find the peace during chaos that these two seemed to have found. The fact that the two could laugh and joke around amazed him.
“What do you do if anyone thinks they recognize you?” Rick asked, no humor in his features or his tone.
Benito sobered. “We haul ass until either we’re clear or caught.”
“Try not to get caught,” Freedman said. “I’m not really sure where they would take you considering the detention centers are no more.”
“Don’t get caught,” Rick said, emphasizing each word.
Benito saluted him. “Aye, aye, alpha.”
Freedman curled his lips in when he saw the glare Rick aimed toward the cousins. Miguel and Benito quickly changed into jeans and T-shirts, both sporting a backpack. If Freedman didn’t know the two, he would think them college students.
He wasn’t surprised when both men shoved a small handgun into their back waistband and then covered the steel with their shirts. It only reminded him that—although they just had a few laughs—things were serious as fuck.
“Keep your time there to a minimum. Scope out the monitors behind the desk and the layout of the lobby. Once you take all that
in, get the hell out of there.” Rick shoved Benito’s shoulder holster into the front seat of the truck. “I expect both of you back here within thirty minutes.”
The two gave a firm nod and then headed out of the parking garage and strode across the street.
Miguel walked into the fancy lobby. The floors were made of marble, and he instantly spotted three cameras on the door, giving the viewer different angles. He smiled politely as he walked up to the security desk.
“Good afternoon.”
The guard glanced up, but gave Miguel a narrowed-eyed look. Great, a guard with a stick up his ass. “What do you need?”
“I was wondering if you could—” Miguel placed his hand over his stomach, grimacing. “Damn tacos. They do it to me every time.”
The guard just stared at Miguel with an impatient scowl.
“Do you have a bathroom?”
“This isn’t a public place.” The human glanced back down at his desk, thoroughly dismissing Miguel.
“Seriously, dude. If I don’t get to a bathroom soon, you’re going to have to sit here and…” He bent a little lower. “Chicken Cascadia. It tastes good, but it’s some bad shit on the stomach.”
The guard glanced at Miguel as if studying him really hard. Miguel placed an arm on the counter, his stomach making a weird noise. He really wasn’t lying. He knew better than to eat the crap.
Pointing over his shoulder, the guard wrinkled his noise. “First door on the left, just past the bank of elevators.” He tapped the monitors. “Don’t try anything. I’ll be watching you.”
“Hopefully not too closely,” Miguel replied as he took off toward the bathroom. When the door closed behind him, Miguel quickly unzipped his backpack and unscrewed the lid on the Imodium. He chucked it down and then tossed the blue bottle back in the bag. He really needed to learn about eating Chicken Cascadia.
“Now to find out what we’re up against.” He took in the bathroom and spotted a large air vent over one of the stalls. There was a cabinet under the sink, so Miguel stuffed his bag under there, but not before removing his digital camera.
He pulled his cell phone out and quickly texted Benito.
I’m in.
A second later Benito texted Miguel back with the same. He shoved the phone down in his pocket and hurried into the stall, knowing he was on a time crunch. Rick wanted him back in thirty and the guard would give him maybe eight minutes. After that, he would either come to check things out or send someone else to look.
Miguel used the small utility knife set he had stored in his pocket and unscrewed the vent. Quietly setting it inside, he jumped up and slid through. He came to a stop when he spotted another vent.
The building was large, but in circumference rather than height. The place only had two floors. He wasn’t sure about a basement, though. Gazing through the grate, Miguel pulled his camera to his face and began to snap pictures, and then he moved on to the next grate. He kept an eye on the time.
If Rick knew he was doing this, his alpha would skin him alive. But Miguel knew scoping the lobby wouldn’t get them the information they truly needed. He hurried along the air duct, snapping a few pictures as he went along, memorizing the layout so he could match photos with rooms.
He glanced at his watch and saw that he had four minutes left. That would give him enough time to get to the last grate, take the pictures, and haul ass back to the bathroom.
As Miguel approached the last grate, he heard strange whining noises. The pitch would rise up, and then fade away. What the hell? He moved closer, raising his camera to his face, and then froze.
“Get him strapped down!” someone out of sight said.
The camera slowly lowered. He watched as a male changeling fought to get free. Miguel knew he was changeling because he could scent jaguar.
He could also smell the overwhelming scent of fear.
“If he shifts, he’ll be harder to contain,” the voice yelled again. “Use a tranquilizer gun.”
Razor wire twisted in Miguel’s gut as he watched the poor jaguar fight the two guards and one lab personnel. If there was one place he couldn’t break down, it was here. Miguel was fighting his instinct to protect the weak. The jaguar may be a predator, but what those humans were doing was downright cruel and malicious. He wanted to bust through the grate and kill everyone in the room—except the jaguar.
The changeling slumped over, and that was when he saw the needle in the lab guy’s hand. He felt the changeling, knew he was feeling alone and scared. Miguel fought not to howl, to tell the man he wasn’t alone.
But he couldn’t. He had to wait until they attacked the building. Miguel may win the fight in this small room, but he wouldn’t be able to take down everyone in the building. The Rebellion group was coming back after dark, when most employees would be gone for the day, reducing their chances of getting caught. It also reduced the number of people they would have to kill.
Miguel didn’t want to leave the young male.
Glancing at his watch, Miguel cursed.
He had been gone ten minutes.
“I’ll be back for you,” he whispered before hurrying away, racing toward the bathroom. He wasn’t too sure how thorough the guard was, but he didn’t want to find out.
He saw the opening ahead of him. Miguel hurried along, keeping as quiet as he could. There wasn’t much room for him to move, but he slithered along at top speed. His heart skidded to a halt when he heard someone in the bathroom.
Miguel waited just inside the grate, his breath trapped in his lungs. He prayed like hell Benito had made it out. The faucet turned on and he heard the water running.
Come on, get out of here.
When the door opened and then closed, Miguel sprang into action, jumping from the vent and quickly screwing it back into place. Just as he dropped down, the door opened again.
“You die in here?”
It was the guard who had allowed him to use the bathroom. Miguel wiped the sweat from his face with the bottom of his T-shirt and cursed when he saw dirt all over the front. There was no way he could walk out like this. “Not yet, but I think the chicken just might win.”
The guard snorted and then walked back out. Miguel breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been busted as he left the stall and went for the cabinet. He had an extra shirt in his backpack. He could just tell the guard he accidently splashed water all over himself.
When Miguel opened the cabinet, it was empty.
Where in the hell was his bag?
This was not good.
Whoever had come in here before he exited the air duct must have taken it, but Miguel hadn’t seen the man’s face. He had been too worried about getting caught. If Rick found out that Miguel had shoved all the contact numbers and websites’ passwords in his bag, the alpha was going to lose it.
Miguel may even lose his damn head.
Some enforcer I’m turning out to be.
He had only put them in there because hell if Miguel could memorize all that information. Rick had told him to destroy it. He had said that it was too dangerous to keep. And Miguel had just handed it all over to some faceless stranger.
He cracked the door, peeking out and immediately saw a camera pointing toward the elevators. He debated on whether or not to track the person down, maybe ask the guard casually who had been in the bathroom, but even to Miguel that sounded weird and perverted.
He was going to have to tell Rick he had majorly fucked up.
Shoving the small digital camera into his front pocket, Miguel walked out of the bathroom and headed toward the front door.
“Hey!” the guard shouted.
Miguel had an urge to run. What if the person who had taken his bag had given it to the guard? Instead, he slowly turned, pasting on a big smile. “Yes?”
The guard moved from behind the desk and came toward Miguel, a deep scowl on his face. Miguel glanced outside and then back at the guard, debating on what he should do.
The portly man stopped in fr
ont of him, and Miguel broke out in a cold sweat.
“What did you come in here for?”
Miguel’s mind swirled and whirled until he knew why the guard was asking him the question. He just prayed like he never prayed before that the man didn’t notice the lack of a backpack. “Oh, I needed directions.”
“Okay, where do you need to go?”
To the lab where the jaguar is being held. “I need to get to the airport.”
Miguel stood there and listened to the man give him directions, giving a nod here and there as if he were really paying attention. He wasn’t. The only thing Miguel wanted to do was get the hell out of there.
“Got it?” the guard asked.
Miguel repeated the instructions. He may not have been paying attention, but he had heard the man.
“Good luck.”
Waving good-bye, he headed out of the large glass door. He was never happier to suck in the fresh air.
But he was terrified of what Rick was going to do to him.
Quickly crossing the street, Miguel wormed his way around a few buildings and then backtracked to the parking garage. Rick and the others were waiting for him. Benito was even there.
Miguel was relieved his cousin hadn’t been caught.
“You’re over your allotted time,” Rick said as Miguel approached the truck.
“Stomach problems.” What else could he say? Rick could smell a lie. His stomach had really been gurgling and protesting.
“You stopped to take a shit?” Rick asked in disbelief.
“A quick one.” Reaching into his pants, Miguel handed over his camera. “I also took the time to take some pictures.”
Rick snatched the camera from Miguel’s hand. “Benito already told me. I’ll deal with you two later.”
Miguel opened his mouth to tell Rick about the backpack, but Benito gave a slight shake of his head and then lowered his arm, pointing his finger toward the truck.
