re the mercy from me the day they tore my heart from my chest . . .”
The monster ached, craved, hell, it salivated for the sounds of their screams.
Narrowing his eyes on them, he watched them, drew their scents into his senses, broke the markers down, noted the various differences and, as he’d learned to do in the research center, tracked every fucking gene that made them what they were. That was a Jackal’s weakness. Facing what he actually was, knowing his history and discovering that someone else knew it too.
“Do you know why they call me the bogeyman?” he asked softly, lazily, despite the sound of hell in his voice.
The strongest simply stared back at him. The weaker one, his gaze flickered for just a second. And Graeme knew why, just as the Jackal did. Because Graeme could sense far more than the Jackal wanted known.
He focused on that one. “Do you enjoy servicing your Council master?” he asked softly, the scent of the human’s domination over the Jackal still lingering on the creature. “I can still smell his release on you, despite your attempt to clean it. Do you pretend to enjoy having his release fill you, rather than the other way around?” Jackals could be driven to a maddened death by attempting to dominate them. The scent of humiliation was thick on this Jackal.
A vicious snarl, enraged and exhibiting a loss of control, escaped the creature.
The other still stared back at the monster that would kill him and his partner. But what Graeme sensed there was something far different.
“When will you kill his rapist?” he asked the stronger of the two, delving straight to the Jackal’s weak spot. “Do you enjoy sharing your lover?”
Jackals simply didn’t share. Anything. Not food, not loyalty or compassion or lovers. It wasn’t in their nature.
What they did do was form partnerships with their lovers. Strength and tactical advantage. And they formed lasting partnerships. The weaker Jackal was this one’s partner in all ways.
The stronger had decidedly more control over his possessiveness, though. He simply stared back, saying nothing, feeling nothing.
“Doesn’t matter,” Graeme decided. “You’ll both die here, so neither of you will have to face the Council’s indignities again. Will you?”
“What do you know of their indignities?” the bigger one asked then, his tone rather curious. “The bogeyman was once the favored child of his creator. Would you have been favored had you starved your littermates to escape a cell packed with the waste and decay of the dead?”
Graeme’s brow arched at the question. “Thankfully, I was created not simply to follow orders, as Jackals were, it seems.”
“If I were simply following orders, then the woman would have already been taken and given to the scientists awaiting her.” He shrugged. “I was in place long before she came here.” He looked around the room to indicate the house. “His call to the Council and his demand to hear her screams first merely gave us the opportunity to achieve our own ends.”
“I don’t negotiate for freedom, Jackal,” Graeme snarled, furious that the attempt was being made. “There’s nothing you can say, nothing you have, that would convince me not to kill you and your partner. If I won’t spare you for her”—he pointed toward the foyer and stairs leading to Cat’s room—“then nothing will spare you.”
“Your mate or your child,” the Jackal grunted. “Either one is a weakness.”
“An alpha’s Pride is his children, his brothers, his sisters,” he informed the creature with insulting disgust. “Something those of your ilk know nothing of.”
Jackals may fight in groups for protection, but they fought independently of one another.
“Weaknesses,” the Jackal repeated. “You are defined by them. Weakened by them. Your survival is limited, Gideon.”
The monster filled him, darkening the stripes on his face and body, filling him with a primal intelligence and savagery that was like being on a high. Like a drug that opened all the senses, sharpened reflexes and knowledge. A possession of such power he reveled in as it filled him.
“Limited, Jackal?” The deepening of the grating tone wasn’t lost on the Jackal. For the first time, what the Jackal sensed coming from the Breed they called the bogeyman filled him with fear. “My survival never concerns me. If tomorrow comes, it comes with visions of blood, of my heart beating in front of my face even as my body fights to survive. If it doesn’t come, then it’s peace. You deserve no peace, but I’m here to give it to you.”
The Jackal was finally accepting there was no negotiating with a complete lack of sanity.
“She would have me kill you quickly.” He watched the two with calculated interest. “Doesn’t want to hear your fucking screams. Well, I want to hear your screams!”
Claws lengthened, razor sharp, strong, the slight curve perfect for ripping and shredding flesh from living body.
Glancing to his side he watched as Raymond Martinez looked on in horror, terror filling his expression, shock glazing his eyes.
“You’re next,” he promised the Nation chief. “Take notes.” Graeme had perched him on the living room chair before going to his little cat in anticipation of letting her listen to the Jackals’ screams.
Unintelligible mutters came from Raymond’s taped lips as drool eased down his chin.
A chuckle rasped from Graeme’s throat. The monster he became in any threat against his mate drew satisfaction and strength from his enemies’ fear, from their pain. Anything, anyone, evil enough to strike against such perfection as his Cat deserved all the pain he could give them, and more besides.
“What are you?” the lead Jackal asked curiously, obviously fighting against the paralytic, trying to force his body to move.
He was growing desperate, though only the scent of that desperation was apparent. Desperate to save his partner.
Looking between the two, he growled low, a rumble of warning, of intent.
“The Council’s worst nightmare,” he rasped. “A monster they dragged from the depths of an agony no man or beast should ever know.”
“Others will come.” The warning was given freely. “They believe she’s your mate, your weakness. They won’t stop until they have her.”
“And I won’t stop until all of you are dead.” Echoing with death, his voice was dragged from the pit of the monster’s soul as he moved to the weaker Jackal. “This one is your weakness, Jackal. You can hear him scream . . .”
• CHAPTER 8 •
“Gideon?” Her voice, sweet, a summer rain infused with innocence, caused the monstrous rage filling him to pause.
“Leave,” he snapped without looking at her. “You have no stomach for it, so go now.”
He could smell her pain, her certainty that she could call him back from the rage consuming him.
She didn’t understand. It was her only protection. This merciless determination to do what must be done at all costs. His ability to retreat and allow the monster free. Without it, he would have never survived the insanity that had crawled through him over the years.
“Don’t do this, Gideon,” she whispered, stepping into the room as he turned to her. Her gaze locked with his, her voice low, calming. “Let Graeme and the Bureau handle this. I called Graeme. He’ll be here soon.”
His gaze narrowed. What the hell was she doing?
She was reaching into him, touching his soul as she pleaded with her eyes.
Forcing his gaze from hers he let it rake over her. She’d dressed in durable black pants similar to combat wear. A black short-sleeved T-shirt and a weapon strapped to her hips. For a moment pride and satisfaction filled him. The injection he’d given her wasn’t just an antidote and immunization against the paralytic. With it, he’d added a unique healing agent that would work with the Breed genetics she possessed to aid in healing wounds, or mending bones. And it worked far faster on her than he’d anticipated.
She definitely looked ready to kill rather than initiate a game he would no doubt enjoy. If it didn’t get both
of them killed.
“Jonas doesn’t have the balls for this,” he growled, though there were a few times Jonas had shown amazing promise in that department.
“Graeme has cameras in here somewhere,” she stated as though assuring him of it.
Of course this was being recorded. He kept records of everything.
“What they attempted, what Raymond attempted, can’t be denied.” Moving closer, she held him as nothing ever had. “Let Graeme handle this, Gideon. You have to leave before anyone else realizes you’re here.”
Rage pulsed through him, filling his blood, his senses, but it was easing. The insanity was locked on her, centering. The stripes would disappear.
Raymond and the Jackals would learn Graeme and Gideon were the same Breed unless he did as she implored him to.
It wouldn’t matter if they knew the two identities were one, unless he did as she asked and turned them over to Jonas. If they learned he was Graeme as well, then he would have no choice but to kill them.
Either choice was tempting. The game or the kill?
His gaze turned back to the Jackals watching curiously, then to Raymond, whose dark eyes filled with calculated hope.
There would be no screams to soothe the maddened monster raging inside Graeme, no matter how it craved the sound of them.
A snarl ripped from him, vicious, one that hungered for blood.
“What did you do to my perfect little cat?” He snapped at the silent horror that refilled the Navajo’s gaze. “Such weakness. She would have never allowed an enemy mercy had I been able to complete her training. She shouldn’t have anyway.” The snarl he flashed to his captive had him paling.
It did little to alleviate the disappointed disgust he could feel.
“I raised her for twelve years,” he raged, staring into the deep brown, panic-filled eyes. “I tried my best, I swear I did, to instill the right values in her. To teach her the value of blood and when best to spill it. Where did I go wrong? Where did I teach that fucking girl mercy? I had none.”
But he had. Gideon had. For one four-day-old babe he’d known the oddest mercy. The most peculiar affection. As he’d stared into her pale, ill little face and seen the shadow of death lurking in her gaze, he’d known mercy. The Bengal that paced and growled inside him had stilled, staring at the child almost as perplexed as he had been.
“I molded her to live and you have somehow showed her how to die instead.” He sighed in exasperation. “For that alone I owe you hours of agony.”
The fucker was muttering again. Begging for his life. Please. Please . . . yeah, he’d heard it all before. Thank God it wasn’t quite words. He hated all that pleading and crying bullshit. It did nothing but feed the madness inside him.
“You lost control of her,” the Jackal pointed out. “You let her go while she was young enough to learn weakness.”
He hated it when the enemy was right. And he hated this particular Jackal. The fucker. He’d end up being trouble yet again, he was betting on it.
“You and Graeme will regret this,” Graeme snapped, allowing her the game.
He knew he was going to regret it. He could feel it tightening through his senses, a primal premonition there was no escaping.
“Graeme can handle this.” She had far too much confidence in what little sanity she believed he possessed. “Jonas will definitely handle it, and he’ll enjoy doing it. Besides, Graeme could use the debt Jonas will owe him for these two.” She flicked her fingers toward the Jackals.
No doubt Jonas would fucking come in his jeans when he learned the prize awaiting him.
“Leave, Gideon,” she whispered. “Please. Before Graeme and Lobo arrive.”
Because the separation she was creating between Graeme and the monster he harbored could also become his protection. And it could start here.
A low, enraged snarl left his lips, and before the inner chaos of killing rage eased he moved quickly for the hall and the back of the house.
She wanted Graeme, did she?
She may find Graeme had about as much mercy for those bastards as Gideon had.
• • •
Cat restrained the sigh of relief that might have escaped otherwise and kept her attention focused on the two Jackals watching her intently.
Graeme might not have taught her mercy, but he had taught her quite well how to block her senses and how to ensure no Breed, no matter how perceptive, could read her if she didn’t want to be read.
“I would have sworn you were his mate,” the bigger Jackal mused softly.
She merely rolled her eyes before stepping back to the foyer entrance. There were Breeds parked outside the front entrance of the house. It would take very little to encourage them to storm over the walls.
Lifting the laser weapon from its holster, she smiled back at the Jackal as he watched her. The paralytic was wearing off; she could see the slow tensing of the muscles in his partner’s hand.
Flipping the weapon to ammo rather than laser, she fired off three quick shots, holstered it then leaned against the door frame as she smiled back at the bigger Jackal.
“Your buddy isn’t as good as you are at hiding the fact that the paralytic is wearing off. And I don’t trust you.”
Disgust filled his gaze.
“You would have made a worthy mate to that crazy-ass Gideon,” he grunted. “Neither of you shows so much as an iota of logic.”
“Logic is highly overrated,” she assured him as the front door flew open and, rather than the two male enforcers she expected, she found herself face-to-face with two female Coyotes and their alpha instead.
Ashley and Emma Truing paired with Del Rey Delgado? This was really about to get interesting.
She turned back to the Jackals. “Oh boy, your ass is really in trouble now.”
“Cat.” Del Rey’s weapon was held confidently at his side as he strode toward her warily, his greeting making it evident Jonas had made him aware of who she was. His nostrils flared as a grimace of distaste crossed his face. “Tell me that’s not fucking Jackal I smell.”
“And here I bathed just for this little gathering,” the bigger Jackal muttered mockingly.
“It would appear so,” she assured him as Ashley and Emma flanked their alpha more protectively now. “They were given a paralytic, but it appears to be wearing off. Chief Martinez’s is still fully in effect, though.”
The small group stepped to the doorway as both Graeme and Lobo, followed by a small Wolf Breed force, rushed from the kitchen entrance.
Thankfully, Graeme had quickly changed clothes. The stripes were gone from his face, the scent of Bengal rage no longer covering him like a coming storm. The Lion Breed scent was once again in place, the amber eyes were green once more and even his facial features seemed less savage, less sharply defined.
“Cat?” He stepped to her, drawing her quickly to him as he watched Del Rey narrowly.
“Graeme.” Del Rey nodded, familiarity apparent in his greeting.
Did he know everyone?
How the hell did he manage it? She doubted Del Rey had been to Window Rock more than a few times.
“Alpha Delgado.” Graeme nodded as the Breeds following him and Lobo entered the room to restrain Cat’s “guests further.” They were a bit nicer about it than Cat had expected as well.
“Jonas is on his way,” Del Rey informed them. “I notified him when I heard the shots Cat fired.” He glanced at her questioningly. “What were you firing at?”
“To get your attention.” She shrugged. “I needed the trash taken out, and I didn’t trust these two to do it effectively.” Flicking her fingers at Lobo and Graeme, she gave both men a tight, hard smile. “I assumed you would contact Jonas that you were going in, though. Tell him he can thank me for the packages. I’ll send him my bill soon. It wasn’t easy.”
Graeme made a funny, guttural sound, as though he were quietly strangling behind her. She hoped he was. She couldn’t believe he’d actually been going to torture two J
ackals and Raymond Martinez. All three were invaluable sources of information where the Council was concerned. Besides the fact that this evidence against Raymond was simply a godsend for the charges the Bureau of Breed Affairs was trying to prove to bring the chief before a Breed tribunal for crimes against Breed Law.
All that, and a favor Jonas would definitely owe her now. If Graeme had played nice to begin with, then she would have allowed him to take credit.
“Nicely done, Cat,” Lobo murmured at her shoulder. “Not excessively wise, perhaps, but nicely done.”
“And you can tell him Gideon made contact,” she snapped to the Coyote alpha. “He captured them; I merely kept him from killing them. And Graeme has cameras here somewhere that recorded every second of it with full audio as well as video. He has them all nicely wrapped up and tied with a very pretty bow. If Jonas is nice, I’m certain Lobo will agree to send a copy of the security videos.”
“And your bill will be in the mail,” Del Rey snickered, his gaze as amused as the scent of his laughter when he turned to Lobo. “She’s worth keeping, isn’t she?”
Graeme’s low growl earned him her elbow in his side while Lobo’s chuckle hid the sound of the warning rumble.
“Only if she wants to be kept,” Cat assured him with sharp sarcasm as she jerked from Graeme’s hold and moved to the staircase. “Tell Jonas we’ll talk later. It’s late and I’m really not in the mood to deal with more arrogant, superior Breeds without sleep. I’ll talk to all of you later.”
“Cat?” Del Rey had her pausing and turning back to him. “Are you okay?”
Her brow lifted at the question. “I’m walking and talking, right?”
“A bit stiffly,” he acknowledged with a hint of a grin. “Do we add assault to the Jackals list of charges?” It was evident he wanted to.
“Add it to Raymond’s,” she informed them shortly, preferring not to go into details. “Any damage done, he inflicted it.”
“Brave little tigress, yes?” Ashley piped up, the Russian accent heavier as she held back her laughter.
“Brave?” her sister questioned. “I don’t know if ‘bravery’ is the word for it.”
Cat glanced back at the two Breed females, aware of more than a dozen pairs of male Breed eyes on her. Particularly one, the Bengal posing as a Lion.
“Bravery?” She let her gaze slide over the males. “Self-preservation, ladies. Self-preservation.”
• CHAPTER 9 •
Graeme watched as his delicate little mate moved unhurriedly up the stairs, her cute little ass bunching in the most delicious way.
Turning, he growled at the other males in the room watching as well, especially the two Jackals watching him with narrowed consideration.
The first spoke up. “She doesn’t carry your scent, Lion. I sense the bond, but not the completion of it. Complete it, before your rival does.”
The rumble of warning in his chest was one the Jackal took seriously. Shrugging as though it were none of his business, and ignoring the Wolf Breed at his side whose warning growl backed up the primal command, the stronger Jackal let a smile quirk his lips.
“Hey, Lion,” he said, calling Graeme’s attention back to him. “My name is Kiel, my partner Lowen. It would pay you to find a moment to speak to us before we meet Jonas’s volcano. Which I’m certain we will sooner rather than later.”
The rumor of Jonas’s volcano was a truth many scoffed at. The volcano meant there was no evidence, no trace of the director’s steps to ensure that certain types of evil were extinguished forever.
“Why would I want to do that?” Graeme sneered.
He’d learned all he needed to know, that when it came to Cat, he was far too susceptible to her desires.
Pale yellow eyes flashed with a moment—just the faintest heartbeat—of somber knowledge before a mocking smile crossed his lips. “Just for the hell of it perhaps.”
Just for the hell of it.
“Bureau heli-jet is landing, alpha,” Ashley called out to Del Rey as he stood watching the exchange. “The big bad director of Breed Affairs is on board.”
Glancing at Lobo he could see the Wolf Breed preparing himself for this meeting. It wouldn’t be quite as easy as it would have been had Cat not called Del Rey and his girls to witness the Jackals’ capture before Lobo and Graeme arrived. And it sure as hell would have been easier had she not dropped the little bombshell about Gideon and that she was directly responsible for the packages being saved for the Bureau.
The little witch. She’d outmaneuvered him with such sweet deception that he could do nothing but admire her for it. That didn’t mean he was going to allow her to get away with it. Because it was damned sure Lobo wasn’t going to let him forget it.
Any debt Jonas owed for the first known capture of a Jackal team, as well as the proof the Bureau needed against Raymond Martinez, was now owed to Cat.
At least now perhaps Jonas would get off Lobo’s back about sending enforcers onto the grounds to oversee Cat’s protection.
“Well, gentlemen, what do we have here?” Jonas stepped into the foyer, followed by his assistant director, a tall Celtic Coyote Breed, Rhyzan Brannigan. The assistant director’s gaze turned first to Raymond, a cold smile quirking one corner of his lips. When he glanced in Graeme’s direction his amusement couldn’t be missed.
Behind them, several Bureau Enforcers stood alert, their hard gazes locked on the prisoners as satisfaction filled Jonas’s gaze.
“I hear she had another visitor tonight,” Jonas announced, frowning back at Lobo. “I guess it’s too much to ask that he’s in custody as well?”
The son of a bitch. One of these days Gideon was going to kick his ass. That day was rapidly approaching as well.
“I would say that’s asking for quite a bit tonight, all things considered,” Lobo agreed, moving between Graeme and Jonas and pulling the director’s attention to himself. “It would seem to me the night’s catch was pretty damned good, though.”
“Compliments of Gideon and his little ward?” Jonas’s lips curled insultingly as he glared at the three prisoners. “Did I hear mention of a video of the attempt against Cat?”
“You’ll have it as soon as we’ve reviewed it and made our own copies,” Lobo assured him. “A matter of hours.”
Neither of which was required. Graeme could have used his sat phone to send the command to the security center beneath the house and upload the file in a matter of seconds. Jonas didn’t need to know that, though.
“I’d like to talk to Cat, if you don’t mind.” The order in his tone instantly had Graeme fighting to pull bac