Cross Breed (Breeds 23)
She’d begin adapting, strengthening, and he’d thought he’d be there to watch it, to learn how to play with her, how to show her how he loved her.
There was so much he’d wanted to show her. Cassie had never been free. She’d never had the freedom to see the world as she should have, without a wall of bodyguards surrounding her. Not that she’d ever be able to be without security, even with him, but he could have given her a measure of freedom as well.
Dane would take care of the Breeds that had followed him for so many years. They were natural spies, able to adapt and become who and what they needed to be. They’d survive without him. Dr. Sobolova could ease the symptoms of the Mating Heat with the treatments she’d refined for the Coyote Breeds.
Cassie wouldn’t suffer and that was all that mattered.
Touching the curls that rioted along the side of her face, he tested one, watched it spring back into place and wanted to howl in rage. His fingers fisted in the silky curls, the warmth of them like a brand against his palm.
He had to force himself to release her, and it took every ounce of strength he possessed to make himself leave the bed. To separate himself from the warmth of her body and the comfort he found just lying next to her.
He’d waited six years, waited for her to grow up, until he knew she could handle her emerging strength. And he thought he’d be there to guide her through it.
Hatred welled inside him as he dressed, never taking his eyes from his sleeping mate. When he finished, he grabbed up his pack and slipped from the bedroom, then from the apartment.
Closing the door silently behind him he paused, hanging his head to stare at the floor as grief swept over him.
“Love you, halfling,” he whispered. “More than life, I love you.”
He had one more stop to make, and that one was going to suck. He might end up dead before he managed to make his own kill. And at the moment, he was highly anticipating his own kill.
• • •
Cassie, it’s time to wake up. Come on, now. You haven’t much time …
It was a voice from the past, one she hadn’t heard for so many years. The spirit she called her fairy.
Opening her eyes, she stared at the misty figure, watching her wavering expression, the beauty of her face, the gentleness that filled it.
Get dressed, Cassie, you don’t have much time. You have to hurry …
She was out of the bed, her gaze going around the room.
“Dog,” she whispered, turning back to the spirit, fear rising sharp inside her.
You have to save him from himself … The spirit glanced at the bedroom doorway, clearly worried. Hurry, Cassie, you don’t have much time.
She grabbed her pack from the corner of the room and tore jeans, boots and a T-shirt from inside. Dressing quickly, she laced her boots on her feet, then collected her holstered weapon, snapped the belt to her hips and secured the Velcro at her thigh.
The sheathed knife was strapped to the opposite thigh, extra ammo clips were shoved in her back pockets.
“Where is he?” she muttered. “What happened?”
He’s found Major. The spirit was wringing her hands now, clearly upset as she looked to the door again.
Cassie had never, ever seen the spirit upset. When she was a child, the misty form of the woman had been imperative, urging her to hurry, but never so upset.
“Who the hell is Major?” she hissed, rushing for the door, aware of the presence floating behind her, following.
His grandfather.
Cassie froze at the apartment doorway, swinging around to face the vision.
Blond-haired, pale eyes, she watched Cassie with such sadness.
I came to you when I knew the danger you faced, the presence whispered. Cain’s mate. My son’s mate. You have to save him, Cassie. As I saved you and your mother, you must save my son.
Shock raced through her, nearly making her dizzy as she fought to make sense of what the spirit said.