erfect defensive crouch, he’d been attuned to her as never before. Even in those fragile moments, six years before, after she’d awakened in the hospital, her furious scream echoing around her, it hadn’t been this strong.
He’d simply stared at the man who had brought his grandfather’s offer to him and watched him slowly pale as Dog fought to hide the physical proof of that rage.
He hadn’t gone this nuclear since he was a child watching the news report of the unidentified body found in a back alley, a hole through his heart. What had happened then had destroyed the small cabin and everything in it, as well as Dog’s memories of how it had been accomplished.
When he’d awakened, he’d found himself inside the coyote mother’s burrow, curled against her warmth along with her pups, as she gently cleaned his bloodied hands.
He’d been ten, wracked by such grief, such anger, that he’d lain in that burrow for days. Soldiers had found the cabin, set fire to it. They’d searched for him, along with several Coyote Breeds. As they neared the burrow, the animal that sheltered him stuck her head out of the opening, snarling at the Breeds. They’d retreated, sensing no more than her and her pups, and eventually gave up their search.
Dog could feel that rage tearing at him now, but he wasn’t ten any longer. And he didn’t let that creature control him. He controlled the beast, until he decided it was time to set it free.
The drive from the Bureau of Breed Affairs to the private airport was longer than he expected, several hours, he’d realized, when the human had given Mongrel the directions. Mutt caught up with them long before that, the Dragoon following close behind them.
“She shot Mutt,” Mongrel informed him, his gaze wary as it met Dog’s in the rearview mirror.
“I saw.” He turned his gaze back to the human.
If the other Coyote was unable to drive, Mutt would have informed him of that as well.
“Your grandfather won’t like blood in the plane.” The weak-assed bastard cleared his throat and spoke hesitantly. “He’s a very fastidious person.”
Fastidious, was he? Didn’t like blood?
“Shame,” he grunted, his voice low.
The human held his gaze another moment before it flickered away. He’d obviously expected Dog to say something more. There was nothing more to say.
His grandfather was expecting a reunion of some type, it seemed. His conditions had been exacting. Break from his mate, meet this ball-less bastard and fly to him. No doubt it was a trap, but it wouldn’t matter. Whoever the Major was, he was going to die. His fastidious self was going to bleed like a gutted pig. Dog was going to make certain of it.
The little bastard sent to give him the message cleared his throat again. “She’s pretty,” he offered hesitantly and at Dog’s glower almost pissed himself.
Now he knew what Graeme meant when he said everyone lost their bladders when faced with Breed rage.
The little man cleared his throat again. “Your grandfather has authorized me to answer any questions …”
“Shit, man, would you shut the fuck up,” Mongrel snapped from the driver’s seat, the growl in his voice demanding as his wary gaze checked the rearview mirror again. “He’ll take your fucking throat. Pissy-assed pantywaist moron. Can’t humans sense anything?”
The human in question tried to press deeper into the corner of the seat facing Dog’s, paling as Dog smiled with icy disdain.
“How long is this flight going to take, if you’re so authorized?” Mongrel snapped, obviously nervous about whatever he sensed coming off Dog.
“Thh … the flight?” the human squeaked. “Five hours. It’s just five hours.”
Long enough. Far enough away from his mate. But an inch was far enough away from her.
He breathed in deeply, the scent of her still clinging to the shirt he wore. She’d worn it after he’d taken her the first time the night before. Wrapped it around her as she lay back against his chest and let him just hold her.
They hadn’t spoken, though he’d sensed her fears, her worry. And when he’d known she wasn’t willing to stay silent any longer, he’d taken her again. Drawn it out. Immersed himself in her pleasure, her pleas, her body straining against his as she orgasmed to his fingers, to his tongue, then again as he’d found his release and locked inside her.
That was ecstasy. That was the most pleasure to be found in any life. Feeling his mate coming undone at his touch, her soul touching his, filling his as he held her, feeling her becoming a part of his spirit.
He’d go mad eventually without her, and he knew it. Filing that petition had actually made him weak with the agony it had caused. Knowing he’d severed that tie, no matter how little it counted to the mating, would drive the beast inside him to insanity.
But it would protect her.
A Separation ensured that any crime he might commit against Breed Law, she wouldn’t suffer for it. That was all that mattered, that his mate didn’t suffer more than she would already. The Disavowal would keep Jonas or Rule from allowing her to know where he was, or to come to him once he was captured. And he would be. He was weak without her, he realized. His will to fight against Breed Law would be nonexistent.
His halfling.