Cross Breed

by Lora Leigh

  But having Cassie’s message come when it had had been surprising, and just as in the past, he’d added it to their little game. Then on a last-minute whim he had raised the stakes. Just to see if she would go along.

  The fact that she had agreed to meet, to give him her body for a single night, had presented a challenge he couldn’t resist. It was almost a dare, and he’d warned her once not to dare him.

  His mate.

  He’d known for years she was his mate, just as he’d known she’d fight him. The knowledge of that fight had held him back. He’d concentrated on other matters, on Breed freedom and his deceptions against the Genetics Council. Until last night.

  He’d lost his mind, and now there was no saving it.

  Son of a bitch.

  Pushing his fingers through his hair, he lifted the bottle of whisky to his lips and drank deeply. Not that he could get drunk with the damned rotgut shit he’d bought at the hotel. The burn wasn’t even enough to take his mind from the hell he’d created for himself.

  He’d thought for certain if he obeyed her insane little conditions he could still have her without the consequences that came with mating one’s mate. By not sharing the hormone that had filled the glands beneath his tongue, surely she’d escape relatively unscathed and he could still touch her, take her.

  Oh, how very wrong he’d been.

  He’d avoided this for six years. Since those stolen moments in Seth Lawrence’s atrium when he’d realized what she was to him, he’d tried to avoid this.

  Or had he? He hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly for weeks now, ever since he caught the faintest scent of another Breed clinging to her. So faint at first, he hadn’t been certain it was there. He’d had to get closer, brush against her, and his head had nearly exploded with rage.

  “Jonas is getting testy.” Mongrel stepped into the room, careful to stay way back as he made the announcement. “Loki said the director’s at that do-or-die stage.”

  Dog merely grunted. Jonas stayed at a do-or-die stage. It was part of his genetics.

  “He says the Wolf Styx is in the director’s office with her. No one knows what the hell is going on, though,” Mongrel added.

  Dog’s lip lifted in a silent snarl as he fought back his fury.

  Styx Mackenzie. That fucking Wolf Breed had nearly met a bullet more than once because of his closeness to Cassie. Had he not mated when he did, then he’d probably be dead.

  Dog lifted the bottle and drank deeply once again.

  He was going to have to get better booze if he wanted to get drunk. Hell, he could use a good drunk right now.

  “Report is Vanderale’s heli-jet left Johannesburg less than an hour ago. Dane’s flying in. Things are getting ready to go to hell, Dog.” There was an edge of worry in his friend’s voice.

  Things had already gone to hell.

  Dane Vanderale, a hybrid breed, son to the first Leo, and a manipulating son of a bitch unlike any Dog had ever known, was sure to stick his damned nose into the situation.

  Pushing his fingers restlessly through his hair, Dog placed the bottle carefully on the table and turned to face the other Breed.

  “Initiate immediate evac,” he ordered him decisively, knowing what had to be done. “Get our people out, have them rendezvous at the house. I’ll need everyone in place.”

  Years of planning, manipulating and careful calculations were coming to an end. The end he’d been working toward was in sight, and it was now endangered by a mating he’d hoped to delay.

  “It’s already been done. I sent out the call myself. Everyone’s moving,” Mongrel assured him. “The mating scent’s damned strong. Won’t matter where you go, you won’t be able to hide it.”

  Sometimes it could be covered, even hidden for short lengths of time, with the right hormonal treatments. But for some, there was no way to hide it. He’d waited too long—the hormone had only strengthened in his system over the years—and now it was raging through him.

  Shit. Dane had warned him. Now he was going to have to listen to the bastard’s I-told-you-so’s. That was never pleasant. Hell. He should have just kept her.

  Now he was going to have to find a way to slip into Jonas’s office, then slip into his mate’s bed. Because even if the Heat wasn’t burning her alive yet, by God, it damned sure was burning through him like wildfire.

  “This is going to turn into a hell of a problem,” Mongrel warned him as he slid a slim cigar from his shirt pocket, lit it and turned for the door. “If you’re not careful, things are going to get really bad.”

  Dammit, hadn’t that already happened? At least, according to his enraged mate.

  “Naw, it’s just going to get more interesting.” He grinned, a tight, hard curve of mocking amusement. “That’s all, brother. It’s just going to get more interesting.”

  Mongrel’s dubious look was almost amusing. “You scare me, Dog. I’ll be damned if you don’t scare me.”

  But that was okay; as long as he wasn’t scaring himself he was doing good. So, was he scared yet?

  * * *

  • • •

  Jonas was waiting for him. Pushing open what appeared to be a section of the wall an hour later, Dog entered the other Breed’s office as Mongrel stepped in behind him.

  Mongrel. That name had the power to irk him at times, just as the name of their partner, Mutt, did. His own, he’d learned to live with. What could they expect when they were known for following the Genetic Council rather than fighting for Breed freedom?

  But for the first time in his entire adult life, Dog admitted to a thread of regret that he hadn’t given Cassie reason to suspect that he wasn’t Council controlled.

  “You could have warned me, Dog.” The brooding frustration on Jonas’s face wasn’t exactly a welcome when he entered the room. It looked more like pure disgust.

  He arched a brow in inquiry. “I assumed you’d be expecting me.”

  Yeah, that was a deliberate misdirection if there ever was one. The look on Jonas’s face assured him it wasn’t going to work, though. Not that Dog had expected it to.

  “Where’s my mate?” He stared around the room.

  He could smell her scent, sweet, spicy. An intriguing mix that made him harder than he was before he entered the room.

  The look Jonas shot him was rife with frustration, and perhaps even anger. With this man, it wasn’t always easy to be certain which was which, but Dog had never let the look bother him either.

  “She’s with her mother and several of our specialists. You know the deal. A hormonal treatment has to be worked up for her.” Jonas moved behind his desk and took his seat, staring back at Dog with liquid-mercury eyes that were almost as eerie as Cassie’s blue ones.

  Okay, hormonal treatments. He wasn’t going to object to that. They weren’t a cure, or even a treatment that would allow her to deny him. It would just make it easier for her to bear the effects of the Mating Heat. Wouldn’t be so bad if they could come up with a similar drug for the males.

  That was, if it worked for her. Rumor was that Coyotes didn’t respond so well to hormonal treatments.

  “Sinclair’s here, then?” Yeah, he’d expected that too, and that meeting he might not be looking forward to.

  Dash Sinclair was an incredibly powerful alpha. If he let it be known he wanted Dog dealt with, then survival might be iffy.

  Jonas leaned back, his arms settled comfortably on the arms of the desk chair, and just stared back at Dog silently for long seconds.

  This could become a problem. If he let it.

  “If Sinclair attempts to take her, I’ll find her,” he told Jonas, ensuring that Jonas knew he was serious. “I’ll find her, and she’ll disappear. Not what I want to do. Not a choice I’d like to make. But I will.”

  Cassie would probably kill him herself. Son of a bitch, he should have kept t

he game to messages alone . . .

  Like hell. Nothing, not one damned thing in his life, had been so good as being buried in his mate.

  “This is a fucking mess,” Jonas muttered, leaning forward then and placing his arms on his desk. “Why didn’t you tell me you were her mate?”

  “None of your business.” He wasn’t going to be questioned by this Breed either. “Now, take me to my mate’s rooms or have her prepared to leave with me. One or the other . . .”

  “I’ll ask you the same question I asked your mate.” Jonas overrode the demand. “Do you want to see a war between Breeds? Or risk Cassie losing her mate to his own foolishness?” The director’s voice deepened, the innate command in the animalistic rumble a challenge to the animal Dog was created from. “I’m not willing to risk either, Dog, but that’s what will happen if Sinclair believes even for an instant that Cassie is not a willing mate.”

  Dog advanced on the desk, leaned forward until his palms were flat on the wood and stared Jonas fully in the eye.

  “Prepare my mate to leave or show me to her rooms. Your choice. I’m in no mood to play footsie with her father, or with you. My mate. My choice.” The director should know better than to challenge an alpha Breed male where a mate was concerned.

  He damned sure should know better than to challenge Dog in such a situation. He hadn’t survived amid the stench of the Council and its evil without learning how to navigate any challenge to his decisions or his actions.

  Jonas simply stared back at him silently for long moments.

  “Jonas . . . ,” he began warningly.

  “Cassie’s willing to meet this situation halfway.” The director shocked him with that information. “She’ll publicly accept you as her mate. She’ll keep the true details to herself regarding how you bargained with her for a night of sex to save her sister’s life, and she’ll deal with you privately.” Was that a measure of satisfaction he heard in Jonas’s voice? “In exchange, you will not antagonize her parents or her friends during this time. You will play the considerate, loving mate at all times whenever others are around.” Jonas leaned forward then. “And by God, you will be a considerate mate when in private or you’ll deal with me.”

  Those liquid-mercury eyes flashed, the color bleeding into the whites as claws slowly emerged from the tips of Jonas’s fingers. A phenomenon Dog had seen only rarely. Jonas’s control was usually far better than this.

  “You make me wish I had plans to do otherwise, Director.” He smirked. “For the simple joy I’d find in accepting that little dare you just threw out.” He stood back, wanting to chuckle.

  Hell, he was a fucking Coyote. What made Jonas think he could intimidate him so easily?

  “You’ve been a hell of an ally over the years.” Jonas sighed. “But too many people believe you’re Council first . . .”

  “My mate comes first.” The Council had never come first. The appearance of it had been necessary but was no longer an option. “Above everything else, never doubt that, Jonas: My mate comes first.”

  “And the operation you’ve been conducting?” Jonas asked as Dog went to turn from him. “What about your people, Dog? The information you’ve been working to attain?”

  “The evac order went out,” Dog informed him. “As of the moment I claimed my mate there was no other choice but to move the timetable up. It’ll take a few days to get the teams in place, though. Until then, as far as you, Sinclair or anyone else knows, I’m Council. Am I understood?”

  The fact that Jonas didn’t think much of the information was evident.

  “You couldn’t do anything easy, could you?” Jonas grunted. “I should have expected this. Son of a bitch if I shouldn’t have.”

  To that, Dog shrugged while tossing him a hard smile. “Hindsight, my friend,” he stated mockingly. “Hindsight. Now, my mate, if you don’t mind.”

  Not that he gave a damn that Jonas minded. Hell, at this point he didn’t care if his mate minded.

  All he cared about was finding her and relieving the hunger ripping through his body. A hunger he knew his mate would share.

  * * *

  • • •

  She was going to puke.

  Cassie could feel the nausea rising. Again. She’d thrown up twice already during the examination she was forced to endure by both the Wolf Breed specialist, Dr. Nikki Armani, and the Coyote specialist, Dr. Katya Sobolova.

  It seemed as though the examination was never ending. Vaginal samples, blood taken, saliva and perspiration. The specialists were so thorough and intent they had her ready to scream more than once. But though the doctor’s touch was uncomfortable, it wasn’t horrendous. It was just sickening.

  For more than four hours she endured it before lifting her hand as they came at her again.

  “Enough.” She really didn’t want to throw up again.

  Drs. Armani and Sobolova shared a concerned look before turning back to her.

  “Don’t argue with me,” she snapped. “I’ve had it. I’m showering, dressing and returning to my room.”

  “The more samples we can get before your mate arrives, the better,” Sobolova stated. “He’s not known for his cooperation, Cassie. And such males can be territorial . . .”

  “Then he can be territorial by himself.” She lifted her shoulder in unconcern as she slid from the table, aware of her mother’s silence as she stood next to the examination bed. “Now leave me alone.”

  “Elizabeth.” Armani turned to her mother almost beseechingly. “Talk to her.”

  Gathering her clothes, Cassie wondered if this would be the one time her mother sided against her.

  “Cassie’s made her decision,” her mother stated, though her expression was concerned. “You have all you’re going to get at the moment. Besides, according to her father”—she tapped the communications device at her ear—“her mate’s arrived. As soon as Cassie’s taken to her suite he’ll be here for his own examination.”

  Cassie tensed. His examination? They’d touch him? See him naked and aroused? Something feral rose inside her.

  Before she could halt the sound, a low growl left her throat as her gaze sliced to Armani and Sobolova.

  “Cassie.” Elizabeth Sinclair stepped between her and the doctors. “The males don’t receive a physical examination. They won’t allow a female’s touch this early in the mating, I promise you that.”

  Of course they didn’t. She knew that.

  God, what was wrong with her? It wasn’t as though she wanted him herself, did she?

  “I’m not feeling well, Mom,” she said faintly, pushing past her mother and heading for the showers. “I’m sorry.” She hated this. The arousal tearing her apart, making her hypersensitive. She hated what this mating shit was doing to her. All the dark, furious emotions she’d kept buried so deep inside her were pushing at the shield she’d always kept in place, trapping them.

  Those emotions terrified her. She’d kept them locked inside her for so long that she feared what would happen if they suddenly surged free. And what she was experiencing now was tempting them in ways she couldn’t bear.

  As she stepped from the shower fifteen minutes later and hurriedly dried and dressed, a knock at the door assured her that her mother had waited long enough to talk to her.

  The woman who had risked her own life, countless times, to save her. The mother who had fought for her, nearly died for her. And believed in the goodness Cassie showed the world. She never, never wanted her mother to know what she hid inside. She didn’t ever want to see the distaste and disappointment she was certain her mother would feel if she even suspected the animal Cassie kept contained.

  “Cassie?” The door opened as she finished dressing.

  The black silk slacks and matching T-back camisole gave her a small feeling of confidence. Sliding her feet into the four-inch heels, she met her mother’s gaze as Elizabeth pushed open the door.

  “Well, that wasn’t fun.” She gave a small, uncomfortable laugh as her mother stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “No wonder everyone avoids it as much as possible.”

  Her mother watched her intently. “It’s usually quite painful actually. The first year your father and I were mated, it would feel as though knives were piercing my skin at times.”

  She could hear the question in her mother’s statement. Why wasn’t the effect so extreme with her daughter as well?

  “Ask Drs. Frankenstein,” she said with a snort as she removed the ebony hair sticks she used to pin her hair out of the way of the water.

  Her mother simply stood still and silent, watching her.

  God, her mom didn’t look any older than she had when Cassie was nine. In fifteen years, she didn’t appear to have aged a year. Her skin was still unblemished, her blue eyes sharp and missing little. Dark brown hair fell just below her shoulders, and she was still trim, with a slight athletic build.

  Her mother trained often with her father, believing that should danger come, she should fight at her mate’s side, not wait for him to protect her. And many times she’d had to do just that. Fight at his side to help protect her family.

  “Cassie.” There was a bit of chastisement in her mother’s voice. “Talk to me.”

  Cassie shook her head, frustration and even fear building inside her. “What do you want me to say?” she demanded, more agitated now than she had been during the examination. “You said my mate was here. I need to see him.”

  She flushed. It was a lie, but it wasn’t. Her body was dying for him. The very knowledge that he was in the building was enough to increase the arousal.

  “I want you to assure me this is voluntary,” her mother said softly. “Your father and I need to know this is what you want.”

  What she wanted?

  Was her mother crazy? Had she and her father somehow gone senile and she hadn’t seen it, suspected it? And here she thought they knew her so well.

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