by Lora Leigh
No, it wasn’t the gossip or the lovefest googly-eyed article that had him shuddering. It was the picture.
The young Breed female was sheltered in the Coyote Breed’s arms, her head resting on his shoulder. It was that Coyote’s face that held him, had him tracking every plane and angle of the imposing features.
Sharp, gunmetal gray eyes were piercing behind thick, sand-colored lashes. A high forehead, an aristocratic nose, and an imposing chin. Generations had gone into perfecting those features and building the tall, powerful body. The Breed DNA that now marred them only sharpened them, made the body more powerful, stronger.
But still, an abomination.
Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off the Breed’s face. He’d suspected he existed—hell no, a part of him had known he’d existed. When his father’s body had been returned, there hadn’t been so much as a whisper of a child, but there was no doubt a child had been born of the mother.
Her body had been found nearly a year after the escape. The scientists who oversaw the autopsy were certain she’d died just after whelping the bastard.
His fist clenched in fury as he scrolled down, finding several other pictures of the Breed. Most were fuzzy, the features not really clear. The Coyote was called reclusive, secretive, never allowing pictures to be taken. He shouldn’t have allowed that picture to be taken.
Because what he was could be revealed, and surely he didn’t want that. No, no one wanted that, and it had to be stopped before it happened. It had to be stopped before the world learned that Ms. Sinclair could possibly whelp his child. A child no test on earth would reveal as a Breed. A child who could infect the world if it bred.
“Hey, Grandpa.” The cheerful young woman who took her seat at the breakfast table had his head lifting, regret shaming him as he stared at her despite his return smile.
Those generations of careful selection had somehow bypassed this sweet girl. Her hair was a soft, nondescript brown, her eyes an unremarkable hazel. She was barely five-five, a little on the plump side, which he detested, but she loved him.
He was quite fond of her, just sorely disappointed in both her looks and her bearing. Finding her a husband should have been easy, would have been easy, but somehow it never quite worked out.
Not that he often regretted it, except for the fact that it still left him with no male heir. There was no way he could leave his fortune to this flighty, often forgetful child.
“Good morning, dear.” He shuttered his tablet and laid it aside. “Tell me, how do you feel about a little trip out west with your grandfather . . .”
•CHAPTER 13•
She was dressed in her customary slim black silk skirt, a sleeveless white silk blouse buttoned and tucked into the waistband, a thin black belt cinching her waist. The blouse was buttoned to just above the vee of her breasts, the tailored fit not snug, but complimenting her breasts, while the sleeveless cut displayed the silken flesh of her arms.
She wore stockings nearly the color of her skin, and the black four-inch heels that added to her height and, sometimes, her confidence. The long, rioting curls that normally tumbled around her were now pulled back from her face and woven into a loose braid, compliments of Dog.
As she walked across the hardwood floor of her apartment’s living area and went over her arguments displayed on the tablet, she felt energized. She felt strong. She could feel that energy surging through her and welcomed it, knowing that when she stepped into that meeting, she’d be a force to be reckoned with.
Breed Law statutes danced within her head, all the various pieces fitting together and displaying each loophole to allow her to present a scathing, censorious statement against the actions taken by the assistant director of the Bureau of Breed Affairs.
As she worked, her focus was sharper than it had ever been before, her awareness of Dog somehow heightened. He’d worked with her through the night, going over the individual articles of the law and finding several areas she’d missed. She’d known he was highly intelligent, calculating and logical, but as they argued back and forth, tested each other against each argument, she realized he was also amazingly intuitive and possessed an understanding of law she hadn’t expected.
He waited patiently now, leaning against the framed doorway leading into the bedroom. She’d had to threaten him with all manner of bodily harm to get him into the black silk slacks and gray shirt Dane had arrived with earlier. He’d glared at her, growled at her, swore he was going to spank her when he got her back to the apartment. He was wearing them, though, along with a pair of black leather boots that were possibly new as well.
His dark blond hair was combed back from his face, a little neater than his normally shaggy appearance, though she did like that rough bad-boy look, she had to admit. It wasn’t just a look; he was indeed a bad boy, and he was hers.
She almost paused at that thought before she let it sink inside her, let herself accept it. Whatever the future held, whatever came from the meeting with the Cabinet, she knew he was hers, just as she belonged to him. She’d belonged to him since she’d stepped out on that balcony of Seth Lawrence’s guest suite and felt Dog’s crosshairs land on her.
And he belonged to her as well.
“Halfling, that look on your face is making me hard.” The sexy rumble in his voice had her lifting her gaze from the tablet and fighting a grin.
“You’re always hard. Wouldn’t be a mating otherwise.” She almost laughed at the mock glare he shot her.
Sometime that morning, she’d realized that many of the contradictory and confusing emotions that had been roiling inside her had merely been a process of acceptance. The Mating Heat ensured that mates had to work through those beginning conflicts, the changes and different views they held, to find that place where something deeper, something more enduring, was just waiting for them to find it.
They were finding it, she thought. She was certain of it.
“Keep it up and I’ll do something about it again,” he promised her, glancing at the digital display on the clock hanging on the wall. “And then we’ll be late.”
Again. He’d done something about it twice through the night. Once, bent over the back of the couch while he powered inside her, his voice hoarse as he whispered her name. Then, when they showered, his powerful arms holding her to him as her knees gripped his hips and she rode him with delirious pleasure.
For a second she considered letting him, before regretfully rejecting the idea.
“We need to leave.” Turning from him, she strode to the dining table and the leather case bulging with files and exhibits in Breed Law statutes that backed her arguments.
“I’ll get that.” He reached around her and gripped the handle of the case, lifting it effortlessly from the table.
“Dog.” She stopped him, laying her hand on his arm as he looked down at her, his gaze somber. “On that island, when I was eighteen,” she said softly. “That night in the atrium.” She paused, feeling something rush through her heart and causing it to race. “I knew you’d be there, waiting for me. Just as I knew over the years after that I belonged to you. I was frightened . . .”
He laid a finger against her lips, his expression softening, his lips quirking with a grin that was in no way mocking.
“You fight so many parts of yourself, Cassie,” he said softly. “I’ve always known that, just as I knew you’d need time before dealing with a mating. Stop fighting everything so hard, baby. Don’t you know, I’ll always be here, watching over you. I won’t let you get lost.”
Tears pricked at her eyes before she quickly blinked them back.
“I won’t let you get lost either, Dog.” Did he know that? Did he really know he wasn’t alone anymore?
“I haven’t been lost since a halfling met my crosshairs and threw out her little dare.” His head lowered, his lips brushing against hers in the lightest caress. “Now, let’s go
Stepping back from her, he held his hand out to her, and it was natural, it was just right, when his fingers clasped hers and he led her to the door.
No matter what came of the Cabinet hearing, no matter the decisions of others, she wouldn’t stop fighting for what she was finding with him. Now, if she could just do something about that prickle against her skin, that inner knowledge that the danger wasn’t necessarily the Cabinet meeting, or Brannigan.
Whoever the unidentified Major was was the true threat. And that threat was growing closer.
* * *
• • •
WESTERN BUREAU OF BREED AFFAIRS
BREED CABINET INQUIRY
The Breed Cabinet was made up twelve Breed members, including Prime and Prima Lyons, Lupine and Lupina Gunnar, and Coy and Coya Delgado, as well as Jonas Wyatt and Dash Sinclair; the newest Wolf pack alpha, Lobo Reever; a Bengal Breed representing the Navajo Nation, Graeme Parker; and Rule Breaker, the director of the Western Bureau of Breed Affairs.
Unlike the twenty-four-member Breed Ruling Cabinet, there was no one in the Breed Tribunal not affiliated with the Breed community, either a Breed or a Breed mate. There was no senatorial presence, though there were several senators in residence at the offices to oversee federal mandates as the new Bureau office established itself.
The drive from her apartment to the Bureau was a short one, though the accompanying Feline force Dane had loaned them had required extra time. As she stepped from the secured Dragoon into the underground parking garage, twelve cold-eyed, heavily armed Lion Breeds had surrounded them, along with Dane, and escorted them into the lower level of the offices.
During the brief drive, a message from Dr. Sobolova had been returned stating the mating capability tests with Rhyzan had come back negative, but the assistant director was still refusing to drop his petition. He demanded that the inquiry proceed.
Cassie made a mental note to make certain she scheduled time with the Breed Ruling Cabinet in the coming months to ensure this particular statute was changed. She felt as though she were being held hostage in a way, her future with her mate no longer under her and Dog’s control.
Ahead, the wide double doors to the meeting room swung open and the Lion Breeds escorting them parted at the entrance to allow Dog, Cassie, then Dane to step inside.
The Cabinet members were waiting on the raised benches at the head of the room. Below, on each side of the room, two podiums waited next to accompanying tables.
Behind that and stretching five rows deep to the double doors were bench seats, though those behind Rhyzan were deserted. To the right, Drs. Armani and Sobolova were in the front row; behind them was Cassie’s mother, and along with her were the Leo, Leo Vanderale, and his wife, Elizabeth, as well as the Coyote females Ashley and Emma Truing.
Cassie moved to the right of the room and stepped to the podium, Dog next to her behind a chair at the table, Dane to his left.
Rhyzan rose from the table where he waited and moved to his podium as well. His face was bruised, one eye black, his cheek swollen and his nose just slightly off-center as Dane had said.
The deputy director was an impressive figure despite his injuries; she’d always admitted that. Six and a half feet tall, long straight black hair and Celtic green eyes. The eyes were rather an unusual color for a Coyote, though. Like all Breeds, he was strong, genetically designed for rugged good looks and a powerful physique. Though she was beginning to think his genetics, unlike others’, also leaned toward insanity.
With everyone present, Jonas rose from his seat placed at the center of the bench, and stared back at them.
“Are all parties present?” he asked.
“Present for the petition,” Rhyzan answered him.
“Present for the objection.” Cassie spoke clearly, a relaxed calm descending over her even as her senses became sharper, stronger.
Her head turned slowly toward Rhyzan as she inhaled slowly, her eyes narrowing on the Coyote as he stared back coolly.
His lips tilted into an icy, mocking smile as he turned back to Jonas. “Before we proceed, Director, I’d like to formally rescind my Petition for Reconsideration in light of the new mating tests that have come through. Though, as all parties are present, I request that the Coyote known as Dog be taken in for questioning regarding the disappearance of a Breed child present during the landing of the Council transport that held Ms. Sinclair’s sister, Kenzi. According to her, there was a child between three to and five years of age when she was placed in the transport but that child had disappeared by the time she regained consciousness.”
Cassie froze.
No.
He couldn’t do this.
“Dog?” Jonas asked as every member of the Cabinet stared back at him.
“There was no child present,” Dog answered, and Cassie could feel his confusion
Her jaw clenched at Rhyzan’s demand as she glared up at Jonas, their gazes meeting for a long moment.
“According to Kenzi, the child was there. She’s been questioned by three other interrogators and deemed to be telling the truth. In that at least.” The amusement in Rhyzan’s tone was unmistakable. “All parties present that night who are still living have been interrogated except Ms. Sinclair’s mate.”
He was ruining everything.
Damn him.
The son of a bitch was destroying her, and she hadn’t even known it was coming.
She inhaled slowly, her gaze still locked with Jonas’s.
“I suggest we adjourn . . . ,” Jonas began.
“And I respectfully disagree,” Rhyzan spoke up, causing Jonas to swing toward him as his lip lifted in a snarl. “Director Wyatt, you have consistently upheld Ms. Sinclair’s actions within the Bureau, even when they’ve been questionable more than once.”
“At what time have my actions or any decision I’ve made in my capacity with the Bureau been deemed questionable?” she asked, keeping her tone pleasant, nonconfrontational.
Rhyzan turned to her slowly, that icy gaze piercing. “We can discuss that during a review of your position. We’re here to discuss your mate.”
“Wrong.” Turning back to the Cabinet, she faced them, her gaze sweeping over the members. “This Cabinet was convened to discuss Deputy Director Brannigan’s Petition for Reconsideration. As that matter has been resolved, hopefully to everyone’s satisfaction, then Deputy Director Brannigan can file the proper paperwork to question my mate. Those requests can be sent directly to me, as I am his legal counsel. I will then file my requests and we can begin this farce he seems so determined to play out.”
“Are you in agreement?” Jonas sounded as though the words were grinding from between his teeth as he turned to Brannigan.
“A waste of time,” the Coyote objected, of course. “He’s here now, as are the interrogators. An additional request will be made to question Ms. Sinclair, as she was apparently aware of her sister, Kenzi’s, location before the transport landed in the desert that night. I’d like to know how.”
Cassie turned, met Brannigan’s gaze and smiled sweetly.
“That one’s easy enough. I’ll answer it now.” She shrugged. “A ghost told me. Any other questions?”
Dislike. It suddenly shimmered in the air around him. Disgust. Why, the deputy director was a shade prejudiced against her. And evidently, he didn’t care much for her flippancy either.
“A ghost told you?” he sneered. “Aren’t you tired of playing that card, Ms. Sinclair? I believe your mate, in his capacity within the Council, informed you of the abduction and transportation of your sister and the other child that night. Just as I believe you’ve conspired with him in the past, especially concerning the minor child who was on that transport.”
“Director Wyatt, your assistant’s about to get an attitude adjustment.” It was Graeme who spoke up, the lazy feline drawl rumbling with menace. “He isn’t even attempting to hide the scent of his distaste or unfounded prejudice. Does that give all Breeds leave to foul the halls with their petty dislikes?”
It was the ultimate form of disrespect among Breeds and considered unacceptable where Breeds gathered together. Even Council Breeds kept that under control whenever they met other Breeds in public.
There was something more in Graeme’s voice, though, something Cassie couldn’t put her finger on, but she could sense it.
“Deputy Director Brannigan, it’s also my understanding”—Graeme leaned forward, lazily playing with the pen he held as he stared down at the Coyote—“that two of the Wolf Breeds at your command were dismissed by Director Wyatt for the same infraction. Is this true?”
“My feelings, or total lack thereof, for Ms. Sinclair, are not the issue. Her disregard for Breed Law, as well as her mate’s, is, though. And must be addressed,” he argued with steely calm.
And he was good, damned good; she had to give him credit. Unfortunately, he really didn’t have a leg to stand on with the Cabinet. They knew her; most there had practically raised her.
“It’s almost my position that the Ruling Cabinet should be convened for this, considering the strong ties Ms. Sinclair has with each of you, and your overwhelming bias toward her,” he finished.
Yeah, he was really good.
“I must admit, I’ve barely met Ms. Sinclair.” Alpha Reever shot her a polite smile before turning back to Brannigan. “And I believe Alpha Parker and Ms. Sinclair have no more than been introduced. Yet I believe we’d agree that your request is outlandish, just as it was my opinion that your petition was. I agreed to hear the case out of disbelief that Wyatt allowed it.”
“And as her alpha, I and my Prima have loudly protested it,” Callan stated as an aside before turning to Coy Delgado.
Coy Del Rey Delgado let a mocking smile twist his lips. “I’m not much of a fan of Ms. Sinclair’s, as it was her argument that separated me from my mate, at my mate’s request, for nearly a year. But even I found the petition, and now this request to ignore protocol, outlandish. If the deputy director wants to interrogate Ms. Sinclair’s mate, then he can file the proper requests. As for interrogating Ms. Sinclair?” He shook his head slowly. “I’d vote against it. Her ability to know things she shouldn’t know, as I understand it, is one she’s had since she was a child. And I rather doubt she conspired with her mate at age nine.”
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