The Breed Next Door (Breeds 5.5)

Her gaze flicked to the entrance of the kitchen. He would be finished soon, coming down the stairs, unaware of the danger awaiting him. Unable to smell the threat.

She swallowed tightly.

The Council had tortured him for most of his life, treated him like an animal, refused him even the most basic human considerations.

He had never eaten homemade bread. Had never drunk real coffee. He didn't know how to cook, but from what her brothers had said, many of the Breed labs had been dens of filth and neglect. Yet he kept his home sparkling, free of dust, and took off his shoes at the door. He was a man desperate to live, to be free. A man who knew how to love despite the horrors he had known.

And now these two thought they were going to use her to kill him?

She couldn't, she wouldn't allow it.

He belonged to her now. He was her heart, her soul, and she couldn't imagine life without him. She would die without him. Think Lyra. Her eyes darted around her as the two watched her closely. Warn him. How could you warn him…

Smell. He could smell arousal. He could smell fear. Rather than tamping back the horror racing through her, the terror clogging her mind, she gave it free rein instead. She had to warn him…

Tarek stepped out of the shower, drying quickly before jerking clean sweatpants on and moving to the door to let Lyra know the shower was now free.

He stepped into the bedroom, frowning at the empty bed for a long second before his head raised slowly, a new, intrusive scent reaching his nostrils.

Fear.

He could smell it, sharp, warning, riding the soft trail of Lyra's unique scent. But there was nothing else. No other smell drifting through the bedroom door to give him an idea of what awaited him downstairs.

She was his mate, and he could feel the danger surrounding her pulsing in the air.

He jerked the cell phone from beside the bed and keyed in the alert for trouble before tossing the device to the mattress and striding to the chest of drawers.

He pulled one of the smaller weapons from the drawer before stripping the adhesive backing from the light, skinadhering holster. Smacking it to the side of the gun, he anchored the weapon in the small of his back before pulling on his shirt.

He grabbed the spare gun from the top of the chest and checked the ammo before moving for the doorway.

Pausing, he listened carefully. There were no lights on, but he didn't need any. And he didn't know who or what was downstairs, but it wasn't a Breed. There wasn't a chance in hell a Breed could disguise his scent so effectively. But sometimes, rarely, certain humans could.

Trainers knew how. It was hard, at times nearly impossible, but it could be done.

As he moved to the stairs he inhaled carefully. He smelled no Breed or human scent other than Lyra's and her fear. It was overwhelming, imperative. But alongside it was a curiously hollow sterile scent. As though something had been cleaned. And another, not quite as crisp, as though something were bleeding away whatever had been used to disguise the evil that filled it.

A cold snarl shaped his lips.

There were two, and one of them was nervous, wary.

Perhaps not quite as certain as the other. That one was weak. He would make a mistake.

As Tarek started down the stairs, he laid the extra weapon on a step, close enough to jump and retrieve if he needed it. If he went in armed, they would know he had been aware of them, and they would search him, using Lyra to keep him in place while they took the hidden weapon.

"Lyra, you left the lights out," he called out as he stepped into the foyer. "No more of your games now. Where are you?" He kept his voice teasing, taunting as he moved to the kitchen where her scent was strongest. He stopped at the entrance, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed the scene.

Everything inside him clenched with fear as he fought to present a casual attitude. He could feel the growl growing in his chest, his jaw clenching with the need to taste blood. The two men stood on each side of her, one with his weapon lying threateningly against her temple. She didn't make a sound, but he could see the tears shimmering on her face, her lips moving.

I'm so sorry…

"Well, I admit, Tarek, I hadn't thought it really possible. " Anton Creighton shook his head as he made a clucking sound.

"And to find you so careless. Your Trainers were sloppier than I had thought them to be during your stay at the labs. " Cold, steel-gray eyes stared out of a pale face. A black cap covered his blond hair, but Tarek remembered the color well. His broad, heavily muscled body appeared relaxed, but Tarek could see the tension in it. The other man wasn't nearly as confident as he appeared to be.

And his partner was terrified.

"The stink of your man is starting to bleed through whatever you used to cover him," he informed Creighton coolly. "He's scared. "