et, which made it harder to extract. He’ll be conscious within an hour, I predict, and back on his feet within a few days, but the bruising has gone bone-deep. He’s going to be growling for a while.”
“He growls anyway,” Anya stated. “Can I see him?”
“I need to talk to him first,” Brim protested. “He’s going to have questions I need to answer. He’ll have orders to keep Base moving effectively.”
Anya turned back to him slowly. “I’ll see him first. Base is covered for the moment with all security protocols enacted until further word from Del-Rey, myself or you. You can allow me five minutes before he turns back into the big, bad Coyote.”
“The big, bad Coyote returns the moment he opens his eyes,” Armani snorted. “I do want to keep an eye on him. The branch he landed on nearly punctured vital organs. His Coyote genetics still aren’t familiar enough to me. White blood counts, hormonal levels, shift in the mating hormones.” She shook her head. “Even heart rate and pulse are different from Wolf Breeds. I’m flying in the dark with him.”
“He’ll heal,” Brim challenged her. “He always does.”
Anya nodded at the doors. “I want to see him now.”
“Anya, I need in there first,” Brim countered her again.
“Now, Dr. Armani.” Anya ignored him.
“Mates come first, Brim,” Armani told him. “Come on, Coya, I’ll show you to your mate.” She turned back to her, and they pushed through the surgery room doors. “While you’re here, its time for your hormonal shot. We need to do that before you go in to him. We don’t want to forget it.”
Anya paused. She stared at the doctor as she let herself mentally scan her body and its reactions. For eight months a part of her had felt almost dead inside. She attributed that to the hormone, and she realized she didn’t want to feel it any longer. She knew what she intended to do; she didn’t need the hormone shot any longer. Del-Rey would ensure she didn’t hurt, because he would ensure she was taken often.
“No more shots,” she said softly as Armani arched her brows.
“You know what will happen,” she told her. “It could happen in phases or it could slam into you, catching you unaware. Be certain, Anya.”
“I’m certain.”
As Anya stepped into the recovery room and stared at Del-Rey stretched out on the white hospital bed, she affirmed that decision. She was ready to take her place, ready to accept what she had once thought she could never accept.
Right now, she had a hard time believing he was hurt in any way.
The sheet covered bandages; the raw scrapes and scratches on his face and upper torso were already healing. Coyotes, her father had once told her, were a sheer work of art. Their genetics were exceptional. They healed faster. They ran faster. They could process information faster and make decisions faster than any other Breed. Then he would shake his head and say, “Too bad they’re still just killers. They could have been a benefit to mankind rather than soulless beings created to kill.”
The scientists, soldiers and trainers that oversaw Breeds didn’t see them as possessing a soul. Not Wolf, Feline nor Coyote. But the Coyotes least of all. For more than a century human scientists had worked to find a way to eradicate what they called the human genetic that promoted a conscience. And they thought they had found that in the Coyotes. The animals were scavengers—primal, brutal. And for a while it seemed as though the Breeds created from them were as well.
She touched Del-Rey’s arm, amazed at the heat radiating from it. She lifted her gaze to the doctor. “He’s running a fever?”
Dr. Armani shook her head. “Not like you or I would. The heat is part of the healing abilities. I’d be worried if it wasn’t there, though it’s higher than normal. I suspect it has something to do with the off-the-chart mating hormones racing through his blood.”
“Did you give him anything for it?”
“No. He’s already made certain his files were notated. At no time is he to be given hormonal treatments himself. He refuses. But, most male Breeds do.”
“They’d rather suffer?” She remembered the pain herself, the brutal, soul-suffering pain that stole control from the mind and made her a creature of lust and little more.
“It’s different for male Breeds than female mates,” Armani told her. “The females suffer the pain, the need for a hormone that isn’t natural to their body. Like a withdrawal from a narcotic, only worse. Male Breeds are more aggressive, more territorial. The constant lust isn’t as painful, but it has no cycle. Females go into mating heat, then it eases for periods of time, only to return. Rather like ovulation. For the males, that need never goes away. One of the males told me it’s like having a dagger continually stabbed into his balls, the need to release is so imperative. Masturbation only makes it worse. The scent or taste of another woman’s lust is so distasteful they can’t find release there either.”
“Another person’s touch is excruciating for female mates.” Anya remembered that well. “Is it the same for the male mates?”
“Not to the same extent as it is for the females. No Breed male mate that I know of has ever attempted to have sex away from his mate. Some have waited years. In some the mating heat finally eased. It’s almost as though each mating is individual, Anya. But the physical reactions in the male Breeds aren’t well understood simply because most of them refuse to discuss them or allow tests to control them. The mating heat is their affirmation somehow. A who-and-what-they-are type thing.” She shrugged, as though helpless to explain it.
“It gives me a soul.” Del-Rey’s rough, scratchy voice surprised them both.
Anya looked down at him, realizing she had been stroking his arm.
“You would have to get yourself hurt.” She had to force back a wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. “So much for seducing you tonight, huh?”
Surprise was reflected in his eyes. “If I’d known you had that planned, I would have stayed with the limo.”
“Liar,” she laughed softly.
“Where’s Brim?” he asked then. “I need to make sure Base is secured and on lockdown.”
“Taken care of.”
He exhaled heavily. “I knew I could count on him.”
She pressed her lips together and clenched her teeth at the comment.
“Get a transport ready.” He turned to Armani then. “I’ll be ready to go back to Base in an hour.”
“I hate Breeds,” Armani muttered. “You need to be under observation. It’s the only way I can get any damned information to work on you again later, Del-Rey. You’re not helping me here.”
“I have a base to run,” he told her. “I promise, next wounded soldier, you can have him for a week.”
She snorted at that. “Yeah. Those berserkers? No, thank you.”
Anya stood silently. She ached to touch him again. To push his hair back from his forehead. To wrap her arms around him or something. She ached to do something.
“I need to see Brim,” he told her again. “Could you call him in here?”
Anya swallowed tightly and pushed back the hurt.
The seducer, the man who had kissed her and claimed his worth was tied to her, didn’t need her here. He needed his second-in-command, which is what Anya should have been. She was his coya, automatically second-in-command. Until she had denied the position.
She stepped back slowly. “Sure. I’ll get him.”
Anger surged inside her. Fear. Hurt. She pushed it back and tamped it down. She fought to keep her expression, her emotions, contained so he wouldn’t so much as scent the pain that bloomed inside her.
She had refused the title of coya while he was on base. She had no right, no right to be hurt and angry that he would want to talk to Brim rather than her. He was the alpha leader. There were things he had to do, assurances he needed that Base was operational and secure while he was outside of it and weak. It was those damned animal genetics. That was all it was. Security over emotion. All that good stuff.
<
br /> She pushed through the doors as Brim straightened from the wall and gave her a piercing look.
“He’s waiting on you.” Her smile was tight. “I’m returning to Base. Please let me know when you return with him. Emma!” Her voice sharpened as she turned to her bodygaurds.
Emma and Ashley both stood watching her strangely.
“I’m heading back to Base.”
She headed for the exit, striding quickly through the corridors and up the incline into the entrance area. She kept her head high, her shoulders straight, and she didn’t cry. She wanted to. She needed to. But not the first tear fell.
Del-Rey stared at the door, a frown on his face at the subtle, barely discernible scent of feminine anger and pain that lingered behind Anya. Now, that didn’t make sense.
He turned to Dr. Armani. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was glaring at him.
“I hate Breed males,” she told him, eyes narrowed, feminine outrage filling her gaze.
“What the hell is wrong with every damned woman in the world this month?” he muttered. “What the hell did I do?”
“You didn’t do a damned thing,” she stated harshly. “Not one damned thing, Alpha Delgado. And that just might be what gets your balls in a wringer and your ass in a sling. And when it happens, I think I want to sell tickets to the event.”
With that, she swept out of the room, passing Brim as he entered. The other man stared at Del-Rey, perplexed. “What the fuck?” He questioned the alpha, “Being your charming self?”
To that he could only shake his head. What the fuck just about described it.
CHAPTER 12
The first person Anya saw as she entered the main living area of the base was none other than Sofia. Anya made a mental note to decide she herself hated vodka, period. If the other woman enjoyed it with the same relish, then there wasn’t a chance in hell Anya was drinking another drop of it.
Slouching seductively on one of the stools that sat at a long teak bar, the Russian was sipping vodka and watching with avid eyes as Anya walked into the community room.
Communications and Security had been notified that the alpha would be returning within the hour; preparations were being made for the twenty-four- to seventy-two-hour length of time it would take for his body to completely heal.
“What are you doing back here, Sofia?” Anya asked as she moved to the bar. “Del-Rey said you were a secret contact. Secret contacts don’t show up flashing their pearly whites and interfering on the base.”
Sofia smiled with superior amusement. “He didn’t tell you my cover has been blown? I’d nearly returned to my apartment before the Breeds assigned to my security detected that assassin waiting on me. I’m now a security risk. I was kindly offered protection here.”
No, she hadn’t been told.
Anya extracted the cylindrical link from the pocket of her jeans, attached it to her ear and beeped Security.
“Yes, Coya.” Command came online immediately.
“Sofia Ivanova is banned from Communications, Security and all areas deemed proprietary until further notice from your alpha. Is this clear?”
“Understood, Coya. Order is being coded in as we speak.”
She smiled back at Sofia as the other woman frowned.
“Del-Rey won’t thank you.” She pursed her lips, perturbed. “He considers my opinion to be valued in all areas.”
“Then he will be unconsidering it,” Anya promised her.
Sofia shook her head slowly as a light laugh left her lips. “So confident. I was his lover, you know, several years ago of course, but we’ve remained close.”
Several years. Much longer than Anya had suspected.
“Sofia, you’re wasting your time here,” Anya informed her, determined not to play the shrew.
She was Del-Rey’s mate. They might have trust issues. She might want to rap his head against a wall. But he was hers, just as she was finally accepting that she belonged to him.
“I never waste my time, dear.” Sofia smiled. “He’ll grow tired of your childishness soon.” She looked around at Emma and Ashley, who stood prepared, watching her carefully. “I nearly raised the three of you, Anya,” she said as she turned back to her. “Trust me, I’m a woman, not a child. Del-Rey understands that.”
“Wow, she doesn’t know about that whole commitment thing, Coya?” Ashley piped up innocently. “Did you tell her he made you coya of the packs?”
Sofia might have paled. “You little brat.” She swung around to Ashley again. “You always were a very practiced liar.”
Ashley popped her gum and frowned. “She doesn’t know?”
“I didn’t tell her,” Anya drawled. “It appears you have though.”
Anya straightened from the bar as Sofia’s face flushed with fury.
“Sorry, Sofia, I am his coya. I am coya of this entire base. What I say goes. And be very careful, because trust me, if I tell Del-Rey to kick your ass to the curb, the curb is where you’ll go.”
“He wouldn’t dare!” Sofia was shaking now. “He may have made you coya for now, but you won’t hold that title for long, you little bitch. Remember, it takes more than wanting it. He has to give it to you. Officially.”
Anya smiled slowly. “Sorry, Sofia. I’ll hold that title forever. Bet on it. And maybe I’ll send you an invitation to that ceremony.”
Mating heat didn’t go away. It was forever. And as soon as her mate was healed, she’d ensure it. Then they’d see about that little ceremony.
Del-Rey walked into the narrow access tunnel, paying close attention to the soldiers that stood on alert, their gazes sharp, their hands ready on their weapons as he limped through the passageway. Normally they were lucky if a single guard wasn’t dozing. Red alert secured the inner base, the soldiers outside rarely had problems, and if they did there was always advanced warning, so they normally weren’t at their sharpest here. Until now.
Passing the access tunnel, he waited as the reinforced doors leading into Base unlocked and slid open. On the other side waited a four-man detail, at the head of which was a younger soldier, Dorian.
“Alpha, med tech is waiting in your quarters. Coya asks that after you’ve rested you have your enforcer inform her when you’re ready to see her. We have communications reports and security details.” The electronic pads were pushed into his hands as he glanced at Brim in confusion.
Since when had Brim gotten the additional time needed to kick ass? Base was secure, but general work ethic hadn’t been at its best in recent months when he had been here.
“We also have the heli-jet lowering into the bay with diagnostics being prepared. I need your signature on that if you don’t mind, so the techs will get cracking. And we have all-terrains being pulled in for repair. Sign there too.” The soldier pointed to the X’s made on the electronic file.
Del-Rey scrawled his name and continued to limp toward his quarters. His people were moving at a quick pace through the corridors, and the community room was empty. No one at the billiards table or in front of the television screens.
“Meetings with our pack leaders have been scheduled for a time after you’ve healed. They send their greetings and request that you let them know if they’re needed.”
Pack leaders, besides Brim, were normally waiting in the corridor for him harping about everything from funds for their teams to the cost of parts for their equipment. Where the hell had the insanity gone? Hell, he’d been dealing with it for over a week now.
“Are you looking for a raise, Brim?” he muttered as they neared his rooms. “How the hell did you manage this?”
“I didn’t manage this,” Brim grunted. “I don’t know what the hell has happened here. Should we have Dr. Armani check them for a virus?”
“Or something,” Del-Rey said as he opened the door to his quarters and stepped inside.
Sure enough, medical technicians were waiting for him with all their little vials, scopes and various torture devices. He endured it but paid
close attention to the somber expression of the techs who performed the checkup. They were intent, serious, as though their own lives hinged on his health. The best he’d gotten the last time he returned wounded was a perfunctory call to make certain if he felt he needed anything.
“You’re healing well. That Wolf doctor doesn’t seem to have done you much harm.” The tech chuckled as he stored his vials in his little case. “We do need a Coyote specialist though, the coya’s right about that. I hope she’s willing to consider additional equipment. She wasn’t happy when we didn’t have the sedatives for Sharone. You know how she cusses and throws things when she’s been shot.”
Del-Rey lifted his gaze to stare at the tech. “She’s been known to do that,” he said carefully.
The tech nodded his sandy-colored head. “We ran out of sedatives several weeks ago when team three was flown in with so many injuries. Coya hit the roof then and radioed Haven for extras at the time, but their supply was low as well. I’m waiting on a new batch. We should have the new analysis machines in soon as well.”
Del-Rey turned to Brim, giving him a speaking look. The other man gave a quick nod and moved to the adjacent office to begin making calls. Was Anya somehow responsible for all this? In a matter of months had she managed to whip fierce Coyote Breeds into the measure of discipline they had somehow lost since Del-Rey had signed out for mission status rather than overseeing the base and other pack leaders himself? They slacked when he was there because it was something he had a tendency to do himself in order to rest and prepare for the next mission.
“Glad you approve, Harding,” Del-Rey finally answered as the tech rose to his feet.
Regan Harding hadn’t been trained just for killing and bloodshed. He was a trained Coyote med tech. Not a surgeon or specialist, but as close as Coyotes were going to get to one.
“Good to see you back, Alpha.” Harding nodded his shaggy head before collecting his supplies and heading to the door.
Del-Rey moved from the chair to his bed and lay back with a weary groan. Damn. Armani was right, he was bruised clear to the bone and it always took longer for the bruises to heal. As though his body considered them unworthy of the effort of a quick healing.
He was running low on sleep, food and sex. Hell, the sex part he hadn’t had in two years until he took Anya eight months ago. He’d have been damned if he was going to fuck a woman with the image of Anya in his head. And since the day she’d turned twenty, that was where she had stayed.
The mating hormone had his tongue swollen despite the kiss he’d shared with Anya earlier that night. His cock wasn’t as hard as normal, but he had had significant blood loss, he thought. Give it time; it always managed full mast at little more than the thought of his mate.
Dammit, she was on base because he’d forced her here. No doubt the minute lockdown was reversed she’d run just as fast back to her cabin at Haven now that he was too weak to stop her. Her and those female Coyotes that followed her like faithful little puppies.
So where was she and why wasn’t she here waiting for him until then? He closed his eyes tiredly, aching at the loneliness that suddenly wrapped around him.
He remembered the impulse he had nearly given into to steal one last kiss before he jumped from the limo. If he had, he might not have been able to tear himself away.
Touching her was like a drug. Hell, it pumped a drug straight into his system, if one wanted to consider the mating hormone. She kept him hard and ready for her. She stayed in his thoughts, and lingered around him like a dream he couldn’t escape. One he didn’t want to escape unless he escaped in her arms.
Damn, he should have stolen that last kiss, he thought.
“You’re not going to believe this.”
His eyes opened as Brim stalked into the room, his expression a mask of disbelief but not of danger.
“Bet me,” Del-Rey said and yawned.
Brim moved to the monitor on the wall, picked up the remote and flipped it on.
“Security recordings,” he announced. “Watch this.”
Del-Rey leveled himself up and watched. And watched. A sense of triumph, of satisfaction, sizzled within him at the knowledge that the coya had taken her place.
From the moment she was rushed into Base, she took over like a little general. He could see her in the circle of Breeds, their backs turned to her as she quickly shed her dress and dressed in jeans.
She handled Communications and Security as though she had been born to it. Which, in essence, perhaps she had been. Her father had been a whiz at the labs. Rumor was, Petrov Kobrin as well as his deceased wife were geniuses in their field. One of the reasons Del-Rey had planned their escape so exactingly. And still he had been surprised that so many of them had escaped. Petrov almost had a sixth sense for escape attempts.
As he watched, he saw echoes of her father, saw the intelligence in her eyes, the composed features and the confidence she had seemed to have lost in the weeks after he kidnapped her.
She wasn’t a woman-child any longer. She was a full-grown woman and taking her place. Her voice snapped and Coyote Breeds came to attention. She didn’t harass or harangue; rather, her tone was filled with command.
That added to the fact that she was the coya, the alpha in charge when he was away, and she had done what even Brim had been unable to do—instilled a sense of discipline in them while he was away.
She wasn’t bitchy, she wasn’t confrontational; she was confident, assured. She knew what the hell was needed and she was putting it into effect.
And it made him hard. He was as stiff as a board, and he could feel the fever working inside him, the need that crashed into his system and came close to stealing his breath as he watched her. Those brilliant eyes cool and focused, her expression composed, an aura of command settling on her shoulders as it had in those labs when she ran the administration wing like a young general.
“Son of a bitch,” Del-Rey muttered.
“She knows Sofia’s here too. She has her barred from Command, Security and proprietary areas.”
Del-Rey lifted his head with a sense of foreboding.
“She knows Sofia was given asylum?”
“She knows.”
Did she throw her out? Had Emma or Ashley killed Sofia?
Admittedly, the woman he had once considered a friend was becoming an irritant with her determination to get back into his bed.