by Eileen Wilks
Dazed from the confusing effect of his touch on her wrists, and the earlier blow to her head that he had used to keep her from escaping the room as Emma and Ashley rushed in, Isabelle found it more difficult to focus by the second.
“You won’t get to spend a penny of it.” She stumbled on the next landing again, crying out brokenly as her knee connected with the unyielding metal beneath her.
“Son of a bitch, what’s your fucking problem!”
The blow to the side of her head was humiliating. Not really hard enough to be disabling, just enough to rattle her senses and draw another hoarse cry from her lips.
Holden laughed, though the sound was filled with mockery and fury.
“If you had just been smart enough not to fight me that night,” he snapped. “All you had to do was lie there and take it like a good little girl and everything would have been fine, Isabelle. I’d have married your stupid little ass, given you a kid or two and life would have been good. I’d have you, your daddy’s ranch, and the respect I deserve. But you had to go fuck a Breed, didn’t you?”
“I would have died before I would have done anything but killed you,” she screamed furiously as the pain became excruciating. “I should have killed you while I had the chance.”
“But you didn’t, did you Isabelle? You let that puke-faced little sister of yours stop you. That was your second mistake.” He was up in her face, nose to nose, his rough features twisted into a monstrous mask of anger. “The first was denying me.”
A heavy, merciless hand gripped her jaw, pushing her head against the wall as he seemed to be trying to push it through the cement.
“Why are you doing this?” Isabelle cried out as he released her jaw.
The next second an openhanded slap knocked her to the side. The grip he still maintained on her wrists was the only thing that kept her from tumbling down the steps as she lost her balance.
She was weak, the pain rushing through her was worse than it should have been. Far worse. But he wouldn’t let go of her. He kept touching her, and for some reason just his touch was like a thousand blades cutting into her flesh.
“Hurts doesn’t it?” he rasped as he began dragging her down the steps again. “They were right about that. It hurts bad enough you can’t even fight me.”
They, who the hell was “they”?
Isabelle shook her head as she fought to make sense of what he was saying.
“What did you do to me?” She could barely breathe, the pain was building so much.
“I didn’t do it, stupid,” he bit out in disgust. “You did it to yourself when you let that dirty coyote knot you. If I’d known you like fucking dogs, slut, I would have brought mine over for a visit.”
Isabelle shook her head, let herself fall against the wall and dragged back on his hold again as she tried trip them both.
He laughed at her efforts.
“Maybe if you’re a good girl the men waiting for you outside will let me fuck you before they start experimenting on you. Like I didn’t know who the hell they were,” he snorted. “Only Council scientists pay that kind of money for a Breed’s fuck, and they only pay that much for a special kind of fuck.” He threw a tight, cold smile over his shoulder. “A mate. Are you his mate, sugar?”
Malachi would kill him.
Holden wouldn’t make it out of the hotel . . .
The thought was heralded by a howl that seemed to echo through the stairwell, sharp and piercing, filled with rage and the promise of retribution.
Malachi was pissed now.
Isabelle collapsed on the step as Holden paused. “I told you,” she breathed out weakly. “He’s not going to let you leave this hotel with me. Let me go, it will give you a head start. It’s the only chance you have.”
“Move your ass.” He jerked at her wrists again, his hold tightening as he tried to move faster down the stairs while Isabelle fought to slow him down.
It seemed to go on forever, but she knew with every step and every level, she knew they were getting closer to the ground floor.
“How did you know?” she whispered painfully as the weight came down too heavy on her ankle and she nearly fell again. “How did anyone know that I was his mate?”
He rounded on her, pushing her back into the wall, his hand wrapped around her throat as he glared down at her. “I would have worshipped you,” he sneered in her face. “I would have given you anything you wanted, but you fucked that Breed instead. Fucked him and let him knot you like a fucking animal.”
“How did you know?” she asked again, fighting to center her thoughts. There was no way she was going to get out of this if she didn’t find a way to fight past the mind-numbing pain that rolled through her in debilitating waves.
“Stupid,” he muttered, his voice lowering to disgust again. “Mating heat has a scent. They still have some Breeds who know their place and they’re always searching for that scent. Malachi Morgan just so happened to have gotten careless with his mate. And now, she’s gone bye bye,” he laughed as he dragged her back to her feet.
“I don’t think so.”
Isabelle looked over Holden’s shoulder as he froze.
The voice was unfamiliar, lazy, almost amused.
Holden jerked around, his hand going to his belt for the weapon Isabelle had managed to knock out of his hand as he shot Ashley. He hadn’t been able to retrieve it.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
Laughter echoed through the stairwell as Isabelle stared down at the strange sight in bemusement.
He had to be a Breed. A tiger Breed of some sort if the two stripes extending parallel across his face were any indication.
“Did you lose your gun, little man?” the stranger drawled as he reach behind his back and drew his own out. “That’s okay, I have mine.”
Holden’s jaw clenched. His fingers wrapped in her hair and as he began to turn to throw Isabelle down the stairs, a shot rang out.
Blood splattered.
Isabelle stood carefully still, her hands now free and pressed flat against the wall as she let her gaze travel to where Holden was sprawled out on the steps at her feet.
His blue eyes were sightless, lifeless as he stared up in blank horror. The side of his head looked as though it had been peeled back, exposing raw meat and the bare white covering of his skull.
He had never been handsome, Isabelle thought, but he looked better dead than alive.
“You okay?”
Her head jerked around.
Somehow, she must have slid down the wall because the stranger was hunkered in front of her as the sound of voices, loud and enraged could be heard above as the pounding of feet moved down the stairs.
Her eyes dropped to the weapon that dangled casually from his fingers as he rested his wrist on his bent knee.
“Are you going to kill me?” She lifted her gaze again and met the emerald brilliance of his. There was an almost feverish glow to them, as though he were ill and in pain.
“No, I’m not going to kill you,” he said gently, the look in his gaze filled with sadness.
The voices were getting closer. She swore she could hear her name being screamed from above.
“Malachi’s coming,” she told him, though she wasn’t certain if it were a warning.
“Yes, he’s coming.” He nodded, his gaze somber. “When he’s come down from the adrenaline rush, tell him I said our debt is clear now. He saved my life, I saved his mate.”
“You tell him.”
“Isabelle!” Malachi was screaming her name.
As the stranger jumped back, Malachi vaulted over the side of the upper steps as Emma, Rule and Stygian raced down the steps.
He came to a crouch, a vicious snarl tearing past his throat as he faced the other man, his body braced protectively in front of her.
“Easy there, old boy,” the stranger murmured as Malachi growled low in his throat. “Let’s not go feral, hmm?”
“What the hell are you doing here, Gideon?” Malach
i snarled furiously.
Gideon. Dark blond hair striped with the prettiest golden brown streaks. It wasn’t colored, it was natural. Emerald green eyes glittered with pain and sadness, but his stance was relaxed, his weapon held down.
Malachi’s gaze dropped to Holden’s body then, sprawled to the side, half his head blown away.
Gideon chuckled. “He thought he was going to sell her to a team of Council soldiers that guessed she was your mate.” Gideon shrugged. “They caught the scent of her last night as they passed your room. You should start using candles when in public, it hides your scent.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Malachi snapped as he tried to figure out whose team Gideon was on. When he had disappeared just after leaving the group Malachi had been a part of, rumor had been that he was pure Council. But, he hadn’t been seen again and until now, Malachi hadn’t known if he was alive or dead.
“You do that,” Gideon nodded. “Until then, pass a message along for me, would you?”
“What message?” Gideon always had a reason for everything he did and an agenda that only he understood.
“Tell Lawe Justice this one was for you alone, not Breeds as a whole or because I’m getting soft or weak. I owe you, even more than this could repay.” He nodded to Isabelle.
Malachi had never felt that Gideon owed him shit, but he was more than willing to accept the debt now.
“What does Lawe have to do with this?” Malachi snapped.
“Because, Gideon’s the Breed we’re searching for, Malachi,” Rule answered for him. “We didn’t want you dragged in the middle, so we didn’t inform you of that fact.”
Gideon’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t know they were searching for me?”
“I didn’t know,” Malachi agreed. “But it doesn’t change anything, Gideon. I took a vow to the Bureau. I won’t break it.”
“And I don’t expect you to.” Gideon nodded. “But after this, Malachi, take your woman from this place. Take her and leave, otherwise, both of you will get drawn in the middle of this battle. And it’s a battle I intend to win.”
“Gideon.” Malachi tried to stop him from running.
Before Malachi could do more than say his name, the other Breed was gone. Just that fast he vaulted over the side of the stairs, made the jump to six landings below, a feat even Malachi wouldn’t have wanted to try, and he was gone.
That didn’t mean Rule wasn’t trying like hell to catch him.
He and Stygian were down the stairs and running hard and fast, but if Malachi knew the other Breed, and he did, then he wouldn’t be caught. Not this time. Not until Gideon was ready.
With the danger to his mate disappearing Malachi twisted around quickly and caught her against his chest. He may have been confronting Gideon, but every sense he possessed had been locked on his mate.
There had been no scent of internal bleeding. She was in pain, but not the kind of pain that indicated broken bones. She had been mauled, frightened and hurt, but she was safe.
“Never again,” he whispered at her ear as he held her as close to his chest as he dared. “Never again, Isabelle.”
“Damned right. Next time, I’ll have my own gun.” Then she pushed back enough to stare up at him, her lips trembling as tears welled in her eyes and flowed to her cheeks. “Ashley?” she whispered.
Malachi reach up and touched her cheek. “We don’t know yet. The helijet was lifting off from outside town as we headed out of the room.” He nodded to Emma as she sat on the step silently, her expression hard and distant. “We’ll know something soon though.”
“He came in on us.” She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t know how he got the room key. Ashley and Emma were talking about the spa. We are laughing at Em because she won’t get her hair highlighted, then he was just there. He had the door unlocked and he shot Ashley as she jumped for him.”
She bit her lip, the memory of it obviously so painful that her tears were falling faster now.
“Come on.” Lifting her in his arms he cradled her against his chest as Emma stood more slowly, her shoulders slumped, her expression tight with grief.
“She always said she would die young,” Emma whispered roughly, the tears she couldn’t shed rasping in her throat. “The little bitch. Now, she’s going to make the coya cry and Del-Rey is going to get all arrogant and protective, and I . . .” She broke off as a sob escaped. “I won’t know how to survive without Ashley,” she whispered before turning to run back up the stairs.
Malachi followed more slowly.
Emma was young, and many of the things she had scented or sensed she had no idea what they meant. Malachi did. Ashley was alive, and she was fighting to stay that way, that was all they could ask for.
His arms tightened around his mate as she settled her head on his chest and wrapped her arms tight around his neck.
“Who is Gideon?” she asked, refusing to let herself believe that anything could possibly happen to take Ashley out of their world. She was too vital, too much a part of the lives of those she loved, and those who loved her.
“A part of the past,” he answered her softly, and Isabelle had a feeling the past was where Gideon probably should have stayed.
“Then why is he here now?”
To that, Malachi grimaced. “To open old wounds,” he said with an edge of regret. “That’s the only reason he’s here, Isabelle. That’s the only reason any of us came here. To open old wounds.”
She laid her head back on his chest as Emma opened the stairwell door to the floor their rooms were on.
“We’ll stay in your room,” he told her as the other girl headed for the door of the room Isabelle had stayed in her first night.
Carrying her in, he didn’t lay her on the bed, he didn’t sit her in a chair alone. As Emma closed the door behind them rather than joining them, Malachi sank into one of the chairs, holding her close, his face buried against her neck.
“I would have died without you,” he suddenly whispered, the muscles of his arms contracting as he fought not to hold her too close. As he fought to not pull her into his skin, to drag her straight down to the depths of his soul.
“Don’t say that.” Holding on to him, Isabelle knew it was true, just as she knew she would give her life for him, she knew without him, her life would lose hope.
It had only been days since her eyes had met his across that bar. Less than forty-eight hours, yet just as her grandfather had once warned her, when she found her true love she would know it in an instant, and she would face death to hold on to it.
She was holding on tight.
“Don’t leave me,” she needed him. She needed his touch, his kiss, but more than anything, she needed the knowledge that nothing, no one could reach out to nearly separate them again.
Rising to his feet and stepping to the bed Malachi laid her down gently before stretching out beside her and taking her in his arms in again.
Simply to hold her.
“Our doctors were already flying in for our tests, so they’re likely already with Ashley,” he told her as she lay as close to him as clothes would allow. “The mating heat was different with us than with others, and our scientists have been working desperately to figure out what causes it and how to ease it.”
Isabelle shook her head. “I don’t want to know.” And she didn’t. Staring up at him, feeling the warmth of him, allowing herself to believe that she was really here with him, that she was really in his arms rather than facing the fate Holden would have sent her to. “I don’t want to know, Malachi. I waited for you. All these years I watched and I waited, knowing, somehow, that what we would have would be different. That it would be worth the lonely nights and the fears that I had missed you somewhere.” She gave a brief shake of her head. “I don’t want to lose that.”
What had drawn them together, the mating heat, as they called it. Was it really so different, so unique from what it was with those who didn’t have Breed genetics? Or was it merely an amplified form tha
t took out the process of waiting, denying, or turning away out of fear as many people did? As technology seemed to advance, so did the fears and the roadblocks that stood against love.
“I don’t want to lose a second of what we are, Malachi,” she told him as his head lowered, as his lips touched hers. “Not even a second.”
Epilogue
So many times I only dreamed you were there.
Then the dream came true . . .
The coyote pack alpha, Del-Rey Delgado, and his coya Anya stood still and silent in the hospital waiting room. Joining them were more than thirty coyote Breeds as they ensured a heavy, protective barrier was kept between the couple and the toddler the alpha carried. A blond-haired, brown-eyed version of him in miniature form.
The coya had finally dried her tears, but her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed. Every Breed in the waiting room pulsed with rage and helpless fury. There was no one to strike out at. No one to kill for their coya’s pain and for the unpardonable sin of daring to silence Ashley Truing’s laughter, her quick smile, or the hope she represented for every coyote Breed living who dared to oppose the Council. She was their best and their brightest, in many ways. She always walked where angels feared to tread, swearing that she wanted to live life rather than fight it.
Del-Rey looked around the room to take stock of the number that had joined them so far. They were still arriving, flying in from all over the world to be there just in case they were needed.
Surprisingly, his second-in-command, Brim, was there as well. Standing alone and silent in the corner of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, a scowl settled in deep on his expression. He felt responsible, Del-Rey guessed. Brim always took more upon himself than he should, especially where the girls were concerned.
“When Ashley was two, she developed a fever the doctors couldn’t seem to bring down,” Anya whispered as she stood beside him. Sitting on the couch next to her, Emma stared at the floor. “Do you remember that fever, Emma?”
Emma nodded.
“She came out of it, didn’t she? When everyone said she wouldn’t. She’s a fighter. Ashley wants to live, she wants to shop and do her nails and her hair. She loves it.”
