Wake A Sleeping Tiger (Breeds 22)

The Recessed Primal Breed

Once free, the Primal will track his mate or his enemy, to the ends of the Earth if he must. And God help the enemy if he’s found with the Primal’s mate—

Cullen could sense his mate. She was alive, reaching out to him and preparing to run. He swore he could feel her plotting, though he could also sense her certainty that he would come to her. She knew he would, but she was determined to help herself as well, believing that if she could manage to get away, then the danger to him would be lessened.

Wild courage and soul-deep independence. That was his mate. And he was coming for her. When he reached her, when he knew her safety was ensured, then both Arthur and Ranger would die.

Leaving them alive wasn’t an option. Alive, they’d always search for a way to escape. The risk that they’d find a way to hire out another attempt on Chelsea’s life was too high. Come dawn, their blood would stain the desert, and their hatred would be stilled. Their threat to his mate would never exist again.

Crawling on their stomachs, he and Graeme eased to the top of the shallow canyon, surprised at the area where the Coyotes had chosen to camp for the night. Their campfire sent flickering shadows through the ragged cut formed into the Earth. The Coyotes along with Arthur and Ranger were positioned at the wide mouth of the canyon while Chelsea sat inside it, too far away from the fire to feel its warmth, and the night was far too cold to allow her to maintain her body heat.

Forcing his gaze from his shivering mate, Cullen slid his attention back to the Coyotes as they sat around the fire. Neither of the two at the fire had been the one who’d aided the abduction of his mate. The smell of dark malevolence and old blood wasn’t drifting on the breeze as it eased from the canyon. The scents he picked up assured him that he recognized the two who waited with all apparent laziness, for whatever reason they were there. The third, next to Ranger, was another story.

“What are they doing here?” Graeme hissed, a low hiss of savage, impending danger as he too recognized the scents of the Coyotes below. “Son of a bitch. Someone needs to kill them and their master.”

“They’re no doubt manipulating the situation,” Cullen growled. “They can live as long as they don’t endanger my mate or stand between us.”

He was taking her out of there. He’d only paused at the top of the canyon long enough to get a look at the situation and determine the best way to go in. He could slide over the canyon wall; the strength that filled his muscles and hardened his bones now ensured that he could take the high drop easily. A good thing, because to stay out of sight of the sniper rifle Ranger kept carefully in his hands, it wouldn’t be possible to climb down the more slanted entrance.

And their time was limited. From the conversation minutes before, he knew the heli-jet carrying the Council scientist sent for Chelsea would be arriving soon, along with a team of Council Breeds. A team was normally composed of a dozen of the best the Council had trained and whose loyalties were considered solid.

As he watched, the Coyote he’d recognized first, a powerful, smart-ass bastard, filled a metal cup with coffee from the pot at the fire before strolling across the distance to where Chelsea was propped against the canyon wall.

“Hey, man, give her some for me.” The sound of lust and amusement was called out as the Coyote approached Chelsea. “I’ll give her some for you later.”

Ranger and Arthur both laughed, their gazes cruelly satisfied as they watched the Coyote move toward Chelsea. Before he reached her, the one next to the fire rose and stepped to the Runner, his laughter drawing their attention as he began to regale them with some story of blood and mayhem.

Keeping his gaze on the Coyote approaching Chelsea, Cullen watched as he crouched next to her, placed the cup against her lips and allowed her to drink the steaming liquid. The small amount of confidence the warmth returned to her would ensure mercy if by some chance Cullen had to kill him.

“Can you run?” The Coyote’s words were too faint to hear, but Cullen’s better-than-normal night vision picked up the carefully formed words on the Breed’s lips.

He

didn’t hear her response, but he knew it. Hell, he didn’t even need to acknowledge what he sensed; he knew Chelsea. She would have to be unconscious to not attempt to escape. She was too damned stubborn to stay in place and wait to be rescued.

“We’ve got to move,” Graeme hissed. “That heli-jet due in will become a problem if you don’t have Chelsea secured first. I may need your help taking that scientist.”

“I’m not here for a scientist.” Cullen’s gaze snapped to his brother, but just for a second.

“Fine, get your mate out of here and I’ll take the scientist myself.” The harsh rasp of the Primal’s voice wasn’t in the least worried about going against a dozen Council Breeds on his own.

“From a team of armed, brainwashed Breeds?” Cullen asked dubiously.

“The scientist is damned important or she wouldn’t be traveling with her own security team. Besides, one less scientist they have in their possession is one less monster running amok in the world.”

His brother just couldn’t let this be easy, could he? He never failed to find a way to make things more difficult. As though the situation weren’t dangerous enough.

“Cat will be pissed if you get yourself killed,” Cullen warned him, the words a reminder of what could happen, nothing more.

“She’ll be pissed anyway because I didn’t bring her with me.” Graeme glanced to the sky just as Cullen felt what was coming.

The heli-jet was still miles out but coming in fast and covert. The danger to his mate was increasing with unacceptable speed.

At the same time, the Coyote next to Chelsea gave a hard burst of laughter as Chelsea screamed into the night. She rolled from the Breed, struggling to her feet, obviously having a difficult time staying upright.

She was hurt, unable to run.

“Go on,” the Breed laughed. “Run, little rabbit. You have two minutes to hide.”