Megan's Mark (25 page)

Gunfire still raged as she shook her head, fighting to clear it while feeling for her gun.

There. Her fingers curled around the grip as she began to crawl to the opened back window. Braden was no longer in his seat; the security belts had been torn loose of their moorings. She had to find Braden.

And who the hell was roaring?

She fell from the jeep window, her face slapping the ground as her senses fought to right themselves. One of the motorcycles lay on its side, the rider stretched bonelessly on the ground, his neck turned at an odd angle, No danger there.

Another roar split the air as the steady
whap whap whap
of the helicopter came in closer, swirling dust and dirt in the air as she finally found Braden.

Her eyes widened. He was bloody, his shirt tom from his back as he grappled with the other cyclist. Not that there was much fight there. As she watched in amazement, Braden jumped, twisting in midair as one arm came around the other man’s neck, the opposite palm cupping the large head. A quick jerk, and the man was dead before Braden landed on his feet.

His head went back, his lips opening as another roar filled the air, his sharp incisors flashing in the sunlight.

She struggled to her feet as Braden’s head lowered, his gaze finding her automatically. The golden color gleamed from his tanned face, the feral expression slicing through her consciousness as she stared back at him, watching as he began to stalk slowly toward her.

Dangerous. Primal. He strode to her, sweat, blood and dust gleaming across his naked chest, his hair flowing around him, his muscles bunched, tight.

When he reached her he didn’t jerk her to him. His hands went to her shoulders, lightly, moving over her efficiently as she swayed before him. A second later, obviously reassured that she was in one piece, he then pulled her into his arms, lowered his head to her shoulder and bit her.

Son of a fucking bitch. This biting shit was going to have to stop.

She struggled in his arms, only barely aware of the buzz of loud voices behind her. Lance was yelling over her father, the first argument she had ever heard between them.

There was growling in her ear, the sound rough and too primitive.

“Let me go, you growling, sharp-toothed, SOB.” She snarled as he finally raised his head, a drop of blood-her blood-clinging to his lips.

Adrenaline was surging through her body, arousal in the midst of triumph, success and overwhelming excitement.

And he had to pull the alpha claim-his-mate crap. She didn’t think so.

Before she was even aware of the thought her arm cocked back, fingers tightening in a fist and slamming toward his face. He jerked back, but not fast enough. Her fist connected with his eye, not as strong as it could have been-after all, she had just flipped a Range Raider, not exactly child’s play there. But hard enough that she knew it was going to bruise.

“Neanderthal,” she bit out as he stared back at her in surprise. “Keep those vampire teeth off my fucking neck before I have them extracted.”

She jerked her shirt over her shoulder. To be fair, he had bit her there, not her neck. But she wasn’t in the mood to be fair. She stared around, her frowning gaze settling on the two dead riders.

Propping her hands on her hips, she ignored the incredulous male expressions around her and snapped out furiously, “You couldn’t even save me one, could you, Purr-boy? Just one. Was that too damned much to ask?”

He breathed in slowly, easily, then nodded.

“Yep, cupcake. In this instance, one would have been way too many. Count yourself lucky I let you drive. I promise, it will be the last time.” If his expression was anything to go by, the ride had been as wild for him as it was for her.

Exhilaration glittered in his eyes with the same strength that it throbbed in her veins.

She smiled, a slow, wide curve of her lips, before encompassing the silent men in her gaze.

“Today is a good day.” She nodded with a laugh. “Yep. Damned fine. Now, where’s that fucking Dragoon…”

Chapter Sixteen

She was like that damned bunny Braden had seen in the old vids they used to watch in the Labs. What was it called?

The little pink froufrou thing with the drum? Something to do with a battery? An Energizer Bunny? Kept going and going and going… She was making him dizzy. Hell, that flip had damned near scrambled his brains, he didn’t need a fist upside his head to help him along. And add to that the fact that until she disappeared into one of the bedrooms with the Breed doctor, Elyiana Morrey, she had been bouncing around like a Mexican jumping bean.

Not that he blamed her for hitting him. He still didn’t understand that bite he had given her. The compulsion to do it had been so primitive, so overwhelming he hadn’t even thought to ignore it. He had bitten her, then just as quickly began to lick the two small punctures he had made in her shoulder. He had marked her, and some primitive instinct had demanded that he force her to submit to him, in at least some small way.

Not that Megan would ever submit. She was as much an alpha personality as he was himself, which explained the fist she had used against him. She knew what that bite meant, every bit as much as he did. A claiming. An attempt to force some measure of control over her, if nothing else, in the certainty that she was still his. That the hormone that bound them together would continue to fill her system, and make her hunger for him just as much as she hungered for justice and for adventure.

Now midnight was rolling around and all he wanted to do was sleep away the pressure in his head. Right after he got rid of the pressure in his dick.

“Braden, we couldn’t find the Dragoon.” Jonas stepped out on the porch where Braden was nursing a cold beer and a pounding headache.

He pushed his fingers through his hair wearily as he sat perched on top of the hard rubber doghouse Megan’s mutt had occupied when he first arrived at the house. The top of the roof was flat enough to sit on, the side of it slanted enough to brace his feet on. He bet the inside would hold him and Megan both, let alone that wolf-sized mutt she called her dog.

“Where the hell do you hide a Desert Dragoon?” Braden shook his head. He knew the technology the Breed community now possessed. They could find the proverbial needle in a haystack, but they couldn’t find a heavily armed Dragoon in the middle of a fucking desert?

“It could be hidden in any one of hundreds of caves and caverns.” Jonas stepped closer, his silver eyes looking damned odd in the dark. What the hell was he, anyway? He smelled like a lion, but Braden was damned if he acted like one.

“I don’t like this, Jonas. Those weren’t Coyotes, they were Special Forces-trained and some of the best I’ve gone up against. They had the weapons and the vehicles in place for an ambush with no idea when we’d be heading out there. They knew the route we’d take and Megan swears only her family could have known of it. And I can’t believe Lance would try to hurt her. In any way.”

“Jacobs isn’t under suspicion.” Jonas affirmed his own thoughts. “I agree with your earlier assessment though. There’s something else going on here, but I’ll be damned if I can figure it out.”

Neither could he. Braden had gone over the information backward and forward and still hadn’t found the answer. It would have been easier to take Megan out in a hundred different ways. Why wait? Why attack at the canyon when it would have been much more efficient to do so on the way there? It was almost as though they were being tested. As though Megan was being tested. But for what?

“She needs to go to sanctuary, Braden.” Jonas’s voice was quiet, firm. “She might not survive the next attack.”

Braden propped his elbows on his knees and stared into the dark glass of the bottle he held. The heli-jet sat a short distance from the house. while several teams of Felines kept silent watch. He could sense them in the darkness, watching the house and those within it.

It was like that at Sanctuary. Callan and his people did their best to keep the mountain more of a haven than a compound, but the ready watchfulness of the Breeds on alert could be felt at any time of the day or night. No one slacked off, no one forgot the fact that the Genetics Council and the Purist societies working against them were just waiting for the slightest break in their defenses.

It wasn’t a prison, but damn if he didn’t feel just as hemmed in there. It would be worse for Megan. He saw her today. For the first time since she had run headlong into his life, he had really seen her. Her eyes shining, the fierce fire of battle blazing in them. She lived for adventure. Loved the fight, the racing adrenaline, the triumph.

Just as he did.

And he had seen something else, something he had only realized in the past hours. Megan did have the proper barriers, those that kept out the harmful effects and allowed the information through. She had used them instinctively today, racing across that mountain like a daredevil from hell, instinctively turning the wheel, steering clear of the worst of the gunfire as well as the natural obstacles. With training she could learn to use those barriers as well as her talents with lethal effectiveness. She could be the perfect partner; she would be the perfect mate. But she would never survive Sanctuary.

He lifted the beer, finishing it off lazily before twirling the bottle between his fingers.

“She won’t go,” he finally said softly.

“Or you won’t let her?” Jonas asked, his voice dark. “She’ll die in this desert, Braden, and you’ll go with her. Let her make the choice.”

“Do you think I don’t know her, Jonas?” He kept his voice low, pushed back the anger that the other man would question, and tried to remind himself that Jonas’s job was to protect the Breed community as a whole. Megan was Braden’s mate. Capable of birthing the future. That would definitely fall under the heading of protection.

“I think maybe you’re not thinking this through,” Jonas said carefully.

Braden felt a small spurt of amusement at the other man’s comment. This wasn’t the first time he had been accused of such a thing.

“I’ll ask her.” He owed her that.

He fingered the bruise at his eye. Damn, he was almost too scared not to give her the choice. Even when shaking on her feet that woman packed a wallop.

“Don’t ask her, Braden.” Jonas’s voice hardened. “Pack her up and stick her ass and yours in the heli-jet. We’ll figure this out another way. Keep her safe.”

Braden rolled the bottle between his hands before turning his head and staring up at the other man. Was he being selfish? Was his own need to be free overriding the need to protect his mate? His woman?

“Braden, they will kill her.” Jonas’s voice was harder now, more determined.

“I said I’ll ask her.” He leaned back against the house, staring out into the night. “You don’t just tell a woman like that to do much of anything, Jonas.” He grunted. “She’d cut your balls off and throw them in your face.”

He shook his head at the thought. She drove him crazy, made him so horny he thought he was going to die, and she warmed him. God help him, she warmed every corner of his soul and he hadn’t even realized it until that fucking Raider had flipped and those bastard soldiers had opened fire on the defenseless vehicle.

He had thrown himself at the first rider, snapping his neck before jumping for the second. Rage had boiled in his blood, a red haze of fury unlike anything he had known sweeping through him.

As he killed the second, she had pulled herself out of that damned Raider, staring back at him, dazed. Wobbling on her feet, but alive. And he had bit her.

He shook his head in confusion as he remembered the primal compulsion. It had surged from his gut, swept through his body and he had acted. Without thought, without remorse, his only instinct had been to lock his teeth into her vulnerable shoulder as the glands of his tongue spilled their rich hormone into the wound.

“What do you know about the Mating, Jonas?” He had to fight to stay calm, even though calm had always been easy to attain, no matter the situation. “Why the hell do I keep biting her?”

“Come to Sanctuary and we’ll discuss it,” Jonas suggested evenly.

The blatant blackmail had Braden staring back at him coldly. Jonas was a manipulative bastard, there was no doubting that. But Braden had no intention of letting him manipulate Megan.

“We’ve never fought, Jonas,” Braden mused softly. “We’ve butted heads a time or two, but never really been at odds. Don’t put us there now.”

Tension thickened between them. Jonas was his supervisor. For the most part, Braden did his job and was usually in agreement with Jonas on how it should be done. Until now.

“Tell me what’s going on, man.” The rumbling growl in his throat was something he seemed to be doing often.

Something he had rarely done before. Megan was not a good influence on him. “And tell me now.”

Jonas sighed roughly. “We’re not sure yet, Braden. Too much is still unknown. The bite to the shoulder allows the hormone into the mate’s body faster. We know that much. At the moment, that’s all we know. But the Council scientists know this as well. They’re dying to get their hands on a Breed mate. And they will, eventually.”

They were testing them then. The soldiers that attacked them were Council based, Braden had no doubt of that. But now he was beginning to suspect that Megan’s death wasn’t all they wanted. They would suspect the Mating; it would be impossible not to if they were aware of the possibility.

Attempting to see if mates were more effective, if Megan’s abilities were stronger in his presence, if she could be used against him or vice versa. It was the way the Genetics Council worked. They researched each strength and weakness, tested and tortured until the subjects were dead or just too damned numb to care if they lived or not.

Which meant the stakes were raised, as well as the danger.

Dr. Elyiana Morrey was a Breed with dark brown eyes and short dark brown hair. She was tall, nearly five-ten, with a compassionate expression and a hard-as-nails voice when things didn’t go her way. But despite her likability, she made Megan uncomfortable.