by Lynn Hagen
“The papers are in the truck,” Benito mouthed.
Miguel wasn’t sure how his cousin knew what he was about to say, but was extremely thankful the man had stopped him.
But he still needed to find out who had stolen his bag…and why.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Just because I am not fully healed right now does not mean I cannot help,” Salvador argued. He was not about to sit on his ass while his mates risked their lives. The two had to be certifiably insane if they thought he was going to take a nap while they broke into two labs ran by sadistic humans.
“All I’m saying is you need to take it easy and not use any of your powers.” Freedman leaned against the truck, his arms tucked over his chest. He could see the stubborn lines on his mate’s face and the determination in his blue eyes. Freedman wasn’t going to easily back down.
But neither was he.
“What if you try to mentally help us and it backfires?” Omar asked.
“It will not backfire.” Salvador kept his voice steady as he worked his way through the implication of his words. He knew the risks. Omar was right, even if he was just guessing. If Salvador was attacked before fully recovering, there was no telling what long-lasting damage he may suffer.
But these two were his mates. He would risk it all to keep them safe. Why couldn’t they see this?
“You don’t know that for sure.” Freedman sounded like he was on the edge of his control.
“Please,” Omar begged. “Don’t risk yourself.”
Salvador could give the same argument about the two going into danger, but after what Miguel had told them about the jaguar, he couldn’t be that selfish. When he spoke, his voice was husky and soft. “I will not do anything to harm myself, meu destino.”
“Why do I have a feeling that statement is riddled with loopholes?” Freedman asked as he pushed away from the truck. “No mind powers, Salvador.”
“Do not speak to me in that manner!” Salvador took in a deep breath, reminding himself he was speaking to his mate. Freedman meant him no disrespect. He knew this. But he was just as worried about them as they were about him.
“What, like I care?” Freedman asked.
“No, like I am a child who needs supervision.”
“Maybe because you’re acting like one,” Freedman shot at him.
“Whoa,” Omar said as he slapped one hand on Freedman’s chest, the other on Salvador’s. “Let’s all calm down.”
Salvador pivoted on his heel and headed toward his coven, who were waiting for him on the other side of the garage. He needed the space and some air. Freedman was infuriating as hell, making Salvador angrier the longer he spoke to the man.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me!”
Salvador’s steps slowed when he heard the almost undetectable strain of fear in Freedman’s tone. To hear it coming from Freedman took Salvador by surprise. He had never seen his mate vulnerable before. He had never seen Freedman anything but fierce and ready for battle.
From his mate’s throat came a low, anguished pain that raised the hairs on the back of Salvador’s neck. He pushed inside Freedman’s mind and he could see the ashes of a washed-out dream float to its feet, and in the deepest, most hidden core of Freedman’s soul, his mate cried.
“What is this?” Salvador asked on a whisper.
Freedman stood there magnificent and proud, but Salvador could see his mate’s entire body slightly trembling. “Don’t you dare walk away from me.” The look on Freedman’s face made Salvador’s heart squeeze. The quicksilver lights in Freedman’s eyes dimmed until they were dull echoes against the darkness.
Salvador heard the words, but somehow he knew it wasn’t him Freedman was talking to. It was a ghost from the man’s past coming forth to haunt him. “I would never leave your side, meu guerreiro forte.”
Freedman roughly swallowed. “You can’t allow yourself to die.”
Salvador opened his mouth to tell Freedman he would do as he damn well pleased, but then closed it. He could see how important this was to his mate. It was so important that Freedman was showing Salvador something that he was quite sure no other had seen before.
He gave a low and sweeping bow. “You have my word of honor that I will not engage in battle this evening.”
Freedman’s features marginally relaxed as he gave a tight nod and then turned, walking back toward the Rebellion group.
Salvador stood there, unsure of what to think.
“My Lord.”
Salvador gave one last glance toward Freedman before giving his coven the attention they were asking for. He watched his coven’s expressions turn uncertain.
“How will we conquer our enemy if you do not engage in battle?” one of the men asked.
He still felt a bit stunned by not only Freedman’s outburst, but the fear he felt inside his mate. “By your honed skills as seasoned warriors.”
“But—” The man stopped speaking when Salvador held up his hand.
“If you go into battle with doubts, your enemy has already won. Go in knowing you have fought many battles and still stand before me. I have given you all the fighting skills you will need.”
The man bowed his head. “And I thank you for the special gift you bestowed upon me, My Lord.”
Although Salvador heard the man, his thoughts were still with Freedman. They had had a simple spat, yet Salvador felt like he needed to apologize. As he searched his memory, he couldn’t think of one occasion where he had asked anyone for forgiveness.
Shoving his hands into his pants pockets, Salvador strode over to where his mates were standing, quietly talking with one another. Why did he all of a sudden feel like an outsider? Salvador didn’t like sitting on the sidelines. That wasn’t who he was or something he had ever done before.
But he had given his word.
“Stop looking like you lost your best friend.”
Salvador gazed at Omar, feeling a smile tug at his mouth. The man was standing there, blue eyes sparkling, and a smile on his face. “I have been regulated to the small children’s table.” Salvador made it sound so terribly punishing.
Omar chuckled. “I like the kids’ table. The conversation is a hell of a lot more interesting.”
Salvador’s gaze flickered over to Freedman. The man still looked a bit unsettled, but more relaxed. His composure was back in place as his deep, penetrating blue eyes studied Salvador. He felt as if the man could see right through him.
“Am I in the…” Salvador paused, waving his hand in a short measure in front of him, trying his best to remember how the Americans phrased it. He cleared his throat, trying to sound strong, but knew the bottom was going to fall out if he didn’t fix this.
“Doghouse,” Freedman filled in for him.
Salvador scrunched his nose. “Why would you Americans put the ones you love in a house where your pets sleep?”
Freedman and Omar began cracking up. “It’s an idiom,” Freedman said, his eyes filled with merriment. Salvador had never seen the man more handsome, not even when they had sex. Freedman was in his natural state, being himself, and Salvador felt his chest tighten as he stared at his mate’s muscles rippling under his dark shirt. Salvador wanted to bite the man’s well-developed biceps. They rounded to perfection and stretched the shirt he was wearing, making the fabric seem a size too small. His eyes wandered to Freedman’s flat abdomen, remembering how damn mouthwatering the ridges appeared when his mate was naked…and his cock—Salvador shuddered.
“Salvador?” Omar said his name questioningly, but the sides of his lips were twitching, a devilish smile fighting not to break free. “Why in the hell do I smell your horniness?”
Freedman’s dark eyebrows arched, a knowing gleam in his eyes.
“That discussion will wait until the two of you have returned.” And then he was going to fuck both of them to within an inch of their lives.
Freedman ran his hand over his flat stomach, Salvador closely watching the movement. “I
think he wants my body.” It was a teasing statement.
“And you would be correct,” Salvador said, his body stiff with need. Freedman looked more than capable of single-handedly bringing down an entire army, but in Salvador’s eyes, the man was nothing short of a god.
Omar glanced between them, and a seductive smile spread across his face. “If you two don’t stop staring at each other like you want to pounce, we’ll never get out of here.”
Salvador shot his eyes to his smaller mate. The man was compact and sinewy, with silky blond hair and dazzling blue eyes. He was a masterpiece in perfection from his tempting lips down to his well-honed legs. Salvador’s blood pressure had raised a few notches as he thought about how Omar had fucked him into completion.
“I don’t think he’s listening,” Freedman said. “Now he looks like he wants to chase you down and fuck you silly.”
Omar’s cheeks reddened. “He can do that…after we get back.”
“Let’s move out!” Enrique shouted over to them.
Freedman gave him a long look.
“I will not engage in battle, but I will be watching you two through your minds.”
“Fair enough,” Freedman said. “But if I feel you using your powers…” He trailed off from finishing his warning. “Do you have faith?”
Salvador stood tall. “In the war, no. In you, unquestioningly.”
Freedman nodded and turned, heading toward the group of men gearing up to take down two labs and rescue whoever they found. His mate began to talk with the others, and Salvador found himself watching him intently.
“We’ll be safe.”
Salvador pulled Omar close, knowing his mate meant what he said, but feared fate would contradict the man. He prayed his mates made it out of there.
And he prayed he didn’t break his promise.
Nate glanced at the Shadow, feeling the hair on his neck stand. The man was creepy as hell. It was also strange standing next to someone he had tried to kill.
“Can’t you…unshadow yourself?” he asked. He had never seen anyone who looked…shadowy before. It was like the man was there, but there was a fine mist all around him, stopping anyone from seeing him fully.
“Trust me. You do not want the full weight of my appearance.”
Okay, he was going to take the vampire’s word on that one. Ever since meeting Salvador and his men, Nate wasn’t sure what to think. The Shadow still smelled like a damn graveyard, though.
He had gotten used to Salvador’s scent. The man didn’t smell like dried leaves anymore.
Rick placed his hands on his hips, his face stern. “I want Nate, Sasha, Selene, and Benito on one team. Miguel, Dorian, Freedman, and Omar, come with me.”
“Can I have the Shadow?” Nate asked. The man may be a strange character, but he had seen how the creature moved. He wanted someone like that on his team.
“Since you only have four men, yes. Salvador has given his coven instructions, so we don’t need to worry about them.” Rick pointed at Nate. “But don’t give them any shit.”
“Why would I do that?”
Rick scowled at him. “Because I’ve known you too long.”
Nate chuckled. “I am who I am.”
“I have a team member who can scale walls,” Sasha bantered. “What do you have, Rick?”
“Weapons, a fucked-up attitude, and a guy who can shift into a shitload of breeds.” Rick smirked.
“How did I get drawn into this?” Omar asked.
“Can we go?” Selene asked. “I’m tired of watching you guys measure your dicks.” She walked away.
“Mine is the biggest,” Sasha said with confidence as he followed their mate. Nate just shook his head. He wasn’t going to confirm Sasha’s boast, even if it was true.
They were taking the building on the left. Benito had scouted this one. Rick might have been pissed, but Nate was glad the junior enforcer had taken pictures. He had a better idea of what he was dealing with.
Nate and his group waited on the side of the building as the vampires from Salvador’s coven took care of the cameras and alarms. He wasn’t sure how they were doing it, but he had to admit having the vampires on his side came in pretty handy.
Of course, he would never admit that out loud or say that about other vampires. Salvador’s coven was an exception to the rule.
And Nate’s rule was, if they didn’t have a beating heart, shoot them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Omar could feel Salvador in his head, and the feeling was weird as hell. It was like having a second set of eyes, only he couldn’t see out of Salvador’s.
“Freedman and Omar, I want you to sweep the left side of the building, both floors. Dorian and I will do the same for the right side. Miguel, keep an eye on things. Radio us if trouble shows up.” Rick gripped the rifle in his hands as he and his mate walked away, and then rounded a corner.
“Which lab was it?” Freedman asked Miguel, and Omar knew his mate was talking about the jaguar.
“The last lab on the first floor.”
As Omar followed his mate, he prayed they didn’t discover any more labs, detention centers, or other places changelings were being taken to and tortured. This recon work was hell on his nerves. He had only sat by and waited when the first detention center was penetrated, and Omar had been shot in the leg. He had only been riding in the back of the truck when Rick and the rest of the men had tried to get away from the Breed Hunters, and he had received a flesh wound. And he was only helping Freedman when he was captured and taken to the last remaining detention center.
It seemed he needed to stop helping and taking a more active role in fighting. Helping was getting him fucked up.
Omar moved until he was in the lead.
“What are you doing?” Freedman whispered low enough to allow only Omar’s changeling hearing to pick the words up.
“Proactive, buddy.” He held the gun tight in his hand with a death grip. Omar wasn’t used to using a gun. He was used to being shot, but not shooting. His personal preference was claws and teeth, but this situation called for bullets.
Freedman grabbed Omar’s arm in a tight grip. “You can be proactive behind me. I’m not risking—” Freedman fell silent when the sound of footsteps was growing louder, heading their way.
Omar and Freedman quickly moved, heading into the room closest to them. His mate shut the door, and then pushed Omar behind him. He held his breath, listening as the footsteps sounded like they were right outside the door.
And then whoever it was stopped.
“Be very careful.”
Omar didn’t answer Salvador. He couldn’t. He could scent—Omar felt his insides still when he recognized the scent as werewolf. Did the scent belong to a captive or were they betrayed once more?
“Come out, come out wherever you are.”
That answered his question.
Freedman stiffened beside him, grabbing Omar’s hand in his. Omar inhaled a little deeper. He knew that scent from somewhere. He racked his brain, but nothing was coming to him. Omar would bet his life he knew that scent.
“He will die if he touches you.”
“You promised,” Omar mentally reminded Salvador. He could hear the frustrated grunt coming from the vampire, but Salvador said no more.
“If you do not come out, I will send someone in there for you.”
Omar glanced around and spotted a door on the other side of the room. He tapped Freedman on his shoulder and pointed to their possible escape. They were moving quickly, his mate leading the way. Just as they reached the door, the door to the room crashed opened. Freedman shoved Omar into the opening before firing his gun.
It was an attached room. Omar quickly ran, hurrying toward the door. It was on the opposite side of the hallway where the bad guys were, so they should be able to get free. Omar glanced over his shoulder as he made it to the other side of the room and felt like his stomach had just been punched.
The air left his lungs and Omar stumbled,
falling over the table close to the door, and then crashed to the floor. He pushed up to scramble to his feet, Freedman helping him. They got out of the room and raced down the hallway.
It seemed their presence here was no longer a secret.
“Why aren’t they chasing us?” he asked as they rounded a corner. Omar couldn’t hear one single footstep aside from his and Freedman’s.
“Beats me, but I’m guessing Salvador’s vampires took care of them.”
“And you would be correct in your assumption.”
They searched the first couple of rooms, coming up empty. Omar was beginning to realize there were more rooms than Miguel had thought. Some didn’t have air vents, but wall vents to recirculate the air. But what bothered him the most was the fact someone knew they was here yet he and Freedman were able to search unhindered.
Something wasn’t right.
He ran his hand over his short hair, worried that this was a trap. It wouldn’t be the first time they were betrayed by someone they knew, and the search was going a little too smoothly. It shouldn’t be, but it was. Not that he was inviting trouble, but if someone knew they were here, they should be running for their lives, not headed to the lab at the end of the hall.
“I’m not getting a good feeling about this,” Freedman said as they checked the next room. “I understand it’s after hours and I’ve never been to a place like this before, but I’m pretty damn sure it shouldn’t be this deserted.”
“I was thinking along the same lines,” Omar said. “If someone knows we are here, why isn’t this place flooded with military, or at the very least, Breed Hunters?”
“That’s a goddamn good question.”
Omar felt a surge of pride in the mate fate had given him. Freedman was such a badass. He didn’t just talk a good game, but backed up his hard-core persona with action. His insides fluttered at how brave the man was.
Why in the hell am I thinking that?
Omar’s eyes widened when his arms began to tingle. Oh hell, not now. Why did his body decide to shift into yet another breed at this very moment? It had to be a new breed because he didn’t ever remember feeling this way before a shift. He cleared his throat, trying to relieve the itching sensation that had begun. It was a slight scratching sensation, but irritating as hell.
