Primal Instincts

by Susan Sizemore

  He was on duty. She hadn’t respected that. She’d reacted on instinct—the pure lust-inducing joy that he was alive, that she was alive, had carried her into his arms, and she’d had her way with him.

  It had been wonderful.

  Her body told her it was still wonderful and urged her to do it again as soon as possible. She fought down a smile, along with the craving to cuddle up against him with her head on his broad shoulder.

  She wondered how he’d look in leather pants.

  Then she reminded herself that not a single member of the Dark Angels had been in sight when they left the Citadel. Maybe immortals didn’t have the same inhibitions as mortals, but Strahan’s Crew couldn’t have approved of his behavior in the middle of an emergency.

  All right, the specific emergency had been over, and his people were likely to put all the blame on Flare Reynard’s femme fatale seduction of their beloved boss—at least this time. And they’d be right—at least this time.

  And they’d shared blood! This had to stop before they had more than a drop or two mingling in each other’s hearts, for the sake of keeping the bonding at bay. More importantly, to keep Strahan focused on his duty. She wasn’t going to be the cause of his becoming careless, of his doing anything stupid or fatal.

  She’d come to Los Angeles to get pregnant, and she’d stubbornly refused to leave when the other females were sent to safety because Francesca Reynard wanted what Francesca Reynard wanted. She’d stomped her foot and the leader of the Dark Angels had been coerced into being her bodyguard.

  She hadn’t considered that her selfishness would put a Prime in danger. Maybe she wouldn’t even have cared if famously heroic Super Prime Tobias Strahan hadn’t turned out to be—so damned real. Nice. Wonderful.

  Oh, hell!

  She was going back to Idaho as soon as she finished talking to Rose Cameron for Strahan. She’d do that for him because he’d asked it of her. Then she’d go back to her gilded prison, get out of his way, because she needed to do that for him.

  She’d have vowed to never set eyes on him again, but that was too teenage and melodramatic for even her current mood.

  She managed to pull her thoughts away from the situation and remembered she was holding a book, but she’d gotten only a page read by the time they arrived at the clinic.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The head of the clinic was waiting in the reception area when Tobias walked in with Flare.

  “Casmerek, I want to personally interview every mortal on your staff,” Tobias said.

  “So your text message informed me,” Casmerek answered. “Good morning, Francesca.”

  The scientist was even less enthusiastic about the Dark Angels’ involvement in local affairs than the Primes and werefolk. He’d been adamant from the first that no one who worked at the clinic could be involved in the attacks. He hadn’t been openly obstructive or refused protection, but he sure as hell hadn’t welcomed any investigation into the workings of the clinic. It didn’t help that Casmerek worked with ailing vampires all the time and was totally unimpressed by threats or demands. He had to be tougher than his patients to be able to boss them around.

  “I have proof that someone here planted a bomb at the Citadel,” Tobias said.

  “He does,” Flare assured the blank-faced mortal. “It was planted in my bag, and this was the only place where I brought the bag. I’m really sorry, Cas, but someone here is a bad guy.”

  The effect Flare’s sympathy had on the mortal surprised Tobias. Casmerek’s shoulders slumped and disappointment showed in his expression.

  “Someone tried to kill you?” Casmerek asked Flare.

  She nodded.

  “Nobody tries to kill one of my patients,” he said. “Not after all the work I put into keeping you people healthy.”

  “It would be a waste to lose us after all the work you’ve put in,” Flare agreed.

  To Tobias’s surprise Casmerek smiled, which was something he hadn’t thought the dour doctor even knew how to do. Flare in charming and sympathetic mode could prove to be a useful asset.

  “Dr. Casmerek—” Tobias began.

  “I’d like to have a talk with you, Francesca,” Casmerek said, cutting him off, then gave him a significant look. “Alone.”

  Flare noticed that Casmerek was about to explode and thought at Strahan, Don’t push him. Just do what you need to with the staff and I’ll keep him out of your way for a few minutes.

  Her way made more sense than having an argument with the clinic director. Tobias nodded. He waited until Casmerek and Flare left the reception area before activating his Bluetooth. “Ali, I’ll be in the break room. Bring me some humans.”

  Dr. Casmerek closed his office door and faced Francesca. “How many times have you mated with that Prime?”

  She’d never been more surprised in her life. Too surprised even for outrage. “What are you talking about?”

  “Sex. Copulation. Mating. Bonding, too, I suspect. What were you thinking? Are you trying to completely ruin your chances at getting pregnant?”

  Francesca took a step back. Her legs hit a chair and she sat down hard on cold, unyielding plastic. She looked up blankly at the scientist and said, “What?” again. Which was a ridiculous way to react to his inappropriate statements.

  “Are you sexually and emotionally involved with Strahan?”

  “You’re a mortal. How can you even tell that?”

  “The pair of you walked in holding hands.”

  We did? She remembered noticing that the rain had stopped as they entered the clinic and cloud shadows scudding over nearby hills. She recalled seeing guards patrolling the grounds. She remembered how the fresh breeze had lifted her hair and the sense of . . . being protected and safe in the warmth of . . .

  “Oh, please!” Francesca shook her head in disgust.

  “See what I mean?” Casmerek demanded. “You don’t even realize it’s happening. Get away from that Prime if you want to be impregnated by me. Of course, if you want to do it the old-fashioned way . . .”

  “What are you talking about?” Francesca rose to her feet. “You told me yesterday that I probably couldn’t get pregnant. That there’s something wrong with my blood.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  No, it wasn’t. Not exactly. But it was what she had heard. She’d been so upset and tried so hard to hide it that the actual information hadn’t filtered into her brain.

  She sat back down and forced herself to be calm. She looked at the scientist. He was still annoyed. “Sorry I screwed up,” she told him. And got a brusque nod. “But I don’t understand how, Cas. I thought that my rare blood type was going to interfere with my getting pregnant.”

  If I hadn’t thought that I wouldn’t have let myself go so completely with Strahan. I needed to feel like a female. Part of letting myself have sex with him had to be a need for physical comfort, didn’t it?

  That was a good excuse, but Francesca dismissed it as self-serving. She’d wanted him, and he’d made her want him more.

  Casmerek said, “I told you that we were doing very thorough testing to make sure you would be compatible with one of our sperm donors to increase the chances of your carrying a fetus to term. I didn’t say you couldn’t get knocked up.”

  “But—”

  “I believe it would be difficult for you to become pregnant by just any Prime,” he said. “But bonding changes everything. I’m a scientist and a mortal. Bonding doesn’t make sense to me. It’s magic. I don’t like the idea of magic being a real form of energy, but I’ve had too much proof to deny the existence of magic.”

  “I don’t want to bond with Strahan,” she said.

  She wasn’t lying, but it wasn’t completely true.

  “I don’t intend to get pregnant by Strahan.”

  That was true. That would be losing. The game, not just an important move. She’d been fighting too long to let instinct mess up her game plan now.

  “I guess I better
stop sleeping with the Über-Prime.”

  A loud voice from deep in her soul screamed angrily at her decision. She didn’t want to stop!

  Tough.

  She’d made this decision already but guessed she was going to have to consciously remind herself of it every moment until she took herself several states away from his overpowering presence.

  “You may already be pregnant,” Casmerek said.

  She jumped up again. She was beginning to feel like a yo-yo. She’d been bounced all over the place since encountering Strahan.

  “How can I tell? Is it too early to pee on a stick to find out?”

  “I can do a pregnancy test, if that’s what you mean. I don’t appreciate your being crude, young lady.”

  Francesca laughed. “You’re the one who said knocked up. And didn’t I used to pick you up from grade school, young fella?”

  Mortal or not, Casmerek was still a member of the Reynard Clan. They’d known each other a long time, and she was the elder.

  “It was from my math tutor’s, in junior high, Aunt Frannie.”

  He gave one of his rare smiles, the one that made him look so much like her oldest brother. Casmerek was very much like his late father. Maybe he wasn’t a Prime, but he was bound by duty and honor. She understood why it galled him that Strahan suspected the children of Primes as traitors. The Clan children were as protective of immortal-kind in their own way as the Clan Primes were of fragile mortals. They just weren’t as flashy about it.

  Francesca shook her head. “I don’t want to know. Not yet.”

  “If you pretend it isn’t true, it won’t be?”

  She ignored his sarcasm and this reminder that he knew her very well. “I’m tired of medical tests. You’ve taken enough fluids out of me in the last few days.”

  From now on she was saving her blood for Strahan. No, no, no. Stop thinking—feeling—like that.

  “I promised Strahan I’d talk to Rose Cameron for him. Is that okay?”

  He rubbed his jaw. “I’d like to spend some time with Rose Cameron myself, but Tony is keeping her pretty busy. You can try knocking on her door, and if there’s no moaning and thumping going on, he might let you in.”

  She understood how the mortal could be frustrated with vampires’ obsession with sex. She was frustrated with it herself most of the time.

  Or had been until Strahan came along. Damn it. Now a wave of gooey sentiment came over her at the thought of Tony Crowe’s long wait for his bondmate.

  “They have a lot of time to make up for,” she said.

  “And Tony’s trying to pump as much of his blood into her as he can to keep her young.”

  “What did her kidnappers do to her?”

  “Ask her yourself. And take notes for me, while you’re at it.” He opened his office door for her. “Good luck, Francesca. With everything.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Francesca knew exactly where Strahan was when she walked out of Casmerek’s office and would have made a conscious effort to ignore him if she could have. The problem was, after everything that had gone on since he’d asked her to talk to Rose, she couldn’t recall exactly what it was she was supposed to learn from the mortal woman.

  She had no intention of getting the wrong information and being told to do it again. That would only give her an excuse to spend more time in Strahan’s company.

  She headed for where her every sense informed her that would-be bondmate was, but she soon came across the werewolf Ed standing in an open doorway with Chiana, the medical technician. Ed was a big guy, and a wolf a good part of the time, and Chiana was a little thing. She looked thoroughly intimidated to have the werewolf looming over her. Francesca’s impulse was to tell Ed to back off, but she managed to hold on to her temper. She thought maybe she should find out what was going on before she pounced protectively.

  Chiana settled the confrontation for herself when she looked up, tears brimming in her eyes, and said, “No! My boyfriend doesn’t want me to.”

  When Chiana fled down the hallway, Francesca stepped up to the werewolf. “What was that about? Were you asking a selkie for a date?”

  Ed looked appalled. “Hell, no!” He cleared his throat. “I mean, no, ma’am. She’s a seal, I’m a wolf. That just wouldn’t be . . . right.”

  “My best friend is with a werewolf,” Francesca told him.

  Ed tried to make his expression and emotions blank. “I wouldn’t know about that, ma’am.”

  She pointed after Chiana. “Then what was that about? Why was she so upset?”

  Ed shrugged. “I was just trying to give her some advice.” He touched his nose. “I noticed that she’s stressed out. At first I thought it was because this place has been under attack. But when I got close to her, I noticed that she—this is hard to explain to a vampire, ma’am.”

  “Try.”

  “She smells bad.” He looked uncomfortable, like he thought she was about to bite his head off at such rudeness. When she waited for further explanation instead of killing him outright, the werewolf explained. “She’s been in her skin too long. It’s not good for a shifter to stay in human form for very long—you have to stretch out, change—”

  “Be all you can be?” she suggested.

  He nodded eagerly. “We have to shift and be human to be us. I hear your folk can go a long time without blood before the thirst gets to you. We werefolk can’t do that, wait a long time between shiftings, I mean. It makes us nervous, anxious—nuts eventually. Chiana’s definitely gone too long between swims.”

  “You could smell that?”

  Ed nodded again. “I told her she ought to get back to the water. She didn’t appreciate the advice. I guess I should have minded my own business.”

  Francesca was pleased at the werewolf’s concern for a fellow shifter. The conversation also brought home to her how little she knew about the other immortal races. She wondered how Strahan did it, how he’d banded so many different types of immortals together into a cohesive, purposeful unit. He seemed to understand and respect them all, despite their differences. He was quite a guy. No wonder the Dark Angels loved him.

  Listen to yourself, Francesca, she thought. You’re nauseating.

  “I heard her mention her boyfriend,” she said to Ed. “Maybe there’s some sort of selkie mating ritual they’re waiting for and they can’t go into seal form until then.”

  And why were mating rituals all she could think of?

  “That’s probably it,” he said. “Excuse me, ma’am. I’ve got orders to check out more buildings for bombs.”

  “Lucky you,” she murmured after the werewolf walked away, and she was left with the necessity of another meeting with Strahan.

  “Just who the hell do you think you are?” Kea’s angry voice reached Francesca just before she reached the entrance to the break room.

  Francesca walked in smiling, knowing exactly what she was going to see. Kea stood belligerently in front of Strahan, hands on hips, head raised, not in the least intimidated by the big Prime’s impressive height and width.

  Kea went on. “You come in here acting like god almighty to the rescue and expect us to fall all over ourselves doing whatever you say. And when we do that isn’t enough for you, you arrogant son of a— No, I shouldn’t say bitch. That would be insulting werefolk and I won’t do that. Or insult the Matri who gave birth to you.”

  Francesca knew that Strahan’s mother had to have been a Tribe Prime’s sex slave. Whether that Prime had brought the female with him into the Strahan family when he defected from his Tribe she didn’t know. She’d be free and honored by the Family if she was with them, and hopefully head of her own House. But she’d never be a Matri.

  Still, it was nice to hear Kea’s respect for her fellow females, be they furred, fanged, or mortal, even if she was thin on the details.

  Francesca noticed the Dark Angel Prime named Ali watching this confrontation on one side of the room. He was watching Kea, rather, and trying to hide a smile
as the young woman gave his commander hell. More romance blooming in these dangerous times? It seemed that the air was full of pheromones. She didn’t think she was noticing it only because of her own situation.

  “I think what you’re trying to tell me,” Strahan said to the glaring woman, “is that you’re refusing to allow me access to your thoughts.”

  “Damn right, that’s what I’m telling you. I have rights.”

  “No one else has complained,” Strahan said ominously.

  Francesca noticed several other mortals sitting around the break room, all looking pale and dazed. They didn’t look like the Prime had given them a chance to complain.

  She fought the impulse to interfere. She really didn’t want to undermine Strahan’s authority, though it was damned tempting.

  “Military types,” she grumbled.

  Strahan’s angry gaze automatically snapped to hers. She’d never seen brown fire before. His expression was fierce.

  “What?”

  She held up a hand. “Nothing.”

  “Are you trying to undermine my authority?”

  Her plan had been not to do that. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked. “Are you trying to use me as a scapegoat because you’re feeling guilty?”

  “Guilty for what? I do what needs to be done.”

  “Is it necessary to be a bully?”

  “A what? Is the spoiled princess upset that someone else is in command?”

  Her own temper flared. She stalked toward him. “Why, you overbearing, tin-plated dictator—”

  “With delusions of godhood?” he said, finishing her sentence as she reached him. Kea had wisely scrambled out of the way.

  Then he laughed, while his eyes gleamed with recognition and amusement.

  Oh, great. Not only were they sexually attracted to the point of obsession, they also could quote from the same old television shows.

  Strahan put his hands on her shoulders. “I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.” His lips lightly brushed her forehead. “I’m sorry.”

  The warmth that filled her was more affectionate than lustful, though lust played a part too. Affection was the more dangerous reaction. “I bet I can guess why your temper blew, Tobias.”