• CHAPTER 19 •

SENATOR RYDER’S ESTATE
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

The mansion was brightly lit, well-guarded, and inside it was her mate. Cassie narrowed her eyes on it, her gaze tracking, searching.

A pristine lawn stretched before her, with few areas for concealment. Landscape lighting was positioned to dispel the heaviest of the shadows, but at three in the morning, the human guards patrolling the estate wouldn’t be at their best. That is, unless the motion sensors were set off or the electronic security staff were diligent.

Three two-man teams patrolled the outside of the house, along with the dogs that paced at their sides. The dogs didn’t worry her overmuch. They were well trained, alert, but she’d already touched their senses, soothed them, assured them only friends were invading their territory that night.

Now she just had to find her mate.

He was in the house; she knew that for certain. She could feel him waiting. Was he waiting for her? Did he sense the enraged, betrayed fury getting ready to descend on him?

“Don’t use your eyes,” Graeme hissed, the mangled feline sound reaching her from where she crouched atop the wall surrounding the estate, hidden by the heavy branches of a locust tree. “Use your senses. Your mate is the reason that creature that strains inside you exists. Mate to mate. You’ll find him if you let it have its way.”

Mate to mate.

She was going to skin her mate out and take his hide home. She’d hang it on her wall and die of grief.

A hard slap at the back of her head nearly knocked her from her perch. The scrape of sharp claws against her scalp accompanied the less-than-gentle tap. Before she could twist and defend herself, she found herself with a face full of Primal Bengal. Stripes, sharp canines and all.

“Close your eyes,” he hissed, now crouched at her side. “He’s a part of you. Find him.”

She closed her eyes, sensing the value of whatever he had to teach her, needing it. The closer they’d gotten to the estate of Aaron C. Ryder, the more the rage had built inside her.

It connected them.

The wild near insanity of that fury was all that bound them. She’d given herself to him, heart, soul. But in the long hours after he’d driven away, she’d realized he hadn’t given himself.

He had touched her soul, filled it, just as he’d filled her body, and she hadn’t even realized that he hadn’t let her into his own.

As she let her senses reach out, her eyes slowly opened again, her senses alerted to the spirit she’d become so used to as a child. The shimmering form of Dog’s mother, faint, so faint, wavering against the darkness, stood on the lawn just beyond the tree hiding them from view.

Turning, the spirit pointed to a first-floor window, the one in the exact center. An office of some sort, or a library, she guessed, barely able to glimpse shelves of books through a crack in the shielding curtains.

She could feel Graeme tensing, rumbling growls barely heard, as he must have sensed the spirit.

“First floor, center window,” she told Graeme. “He’s there, but he’s not alone.”

Mutt and Mongrel were with him, but they weren’t the only ones.

“There’s something out there,” Graeme muttered, the low growl beneath his voice filled with impending danger. “Something not natural.”

And Breeds were?

“She’s with me,” was all Cassie said, feeling his start of surprise as the spirit turned back and waved her forward imperatively.

Before the Bengal Primal could stop her, she dropped from the wall, crouched, then raced across the lawn in the exact line the spirit indicated. Following the faint presence, she slid into the shadows at the far side of the house and crouched within the decorative brush growing alongside it.

There, she waited, watching, aware of Graeme, her father, Cullen, Cat and Claire as they moved more slowly into position alongside her.

“Back door,” Graeme breathed into the night. “I’ll be with you; the others have the guards. Give the signal when you’re ready.”

When the spirit she followed was ready.

She met the gaze of the distraught mother as she waited, knowing it sensed what she was fighting to hold back. Fear filled a mother’s expression as compassion lurked in her gaze.

The guards passed, moved along their perimeter, the dogs looking, sniffing the air; they were wary but continued silently as she glared at them and urged them on.

As they passed the corner of the house, the second team was nearing; the spirit moved quickly.

Staying low, Cassie followed swiftly, aware of Graeme behind her as her father and the others moved to disable the guards.

They slipped into the house, the unlocked door opening and closing silently behind them.

They entered what was obviously a break room for the guards, thankfully deserted. The spirit didn’t pause as she led them through the darkened rooms before pausing outside a set of open double doors.

The sound of voices had her flattening to the wall, trusting the shadows to shield her as Graeme seemed to disappear into another set of shadows.

To protect you … the wavering image whispered as she slowly disappeared. All to protect you …

 • • • 

His grandfather.

Yeah, it was definitely his grandfather. Dog stared dispassionately at the old man, seeing his father in the old man’s features, but not in the scent of corruption and desperation.

He remembered his father’s scent. Gun oil and ammunition; below it, honor, strength. Grief.

He’d grieved for his mate until the day he’d died.

Aaron lowered himself stiffly to the leather sofa facing Dog, tired gray eyes lifting to where Dog stood silently in the middle of the room.

He shared blood with this man. He could smell the blood bond, and he cursed it.

Mutt stood next to the entrance with one of Aaron’s security guards. A former navy SEAL. A hard-eyed soldier who watched curiously. Dog couldn’t sense hatred or prejudice coming from him, but he sensed a determination to do his job and protect his employer.

Behind him, Mongrel stood with the other security guard. That one reeked of hatred and discontent. Humans. They never listened to all those Breed documentaries they watched that preached the acuity of a Breed’s senses to pick up such emotions.

“I was surprised to learn you filed for Separation as well as a Disavowal from the woman you’d chosen as your mate,” Aaron commented, watching him closely. “I expected you to object to disavowing her.”

“Why did you expect that?” Let the bastard dig this hole a little deeper. If he was lucky, very lucky, then he might say something that would exonerate Dog when he cut his throat.

Aaron lowered his graying head and stared at the drink he held. Regret spilled from him. It didn’t overpower the scent of core evil, but it was regret.

“Your father,” he said before he tossed back the drink, then lifted his gaze to Dog once again. “He was a good son. A loyal son. Until your mother. Even after her death he refused to come home no matter my attempts to convince him.”

“Yeah, he could be a little stubborn,” Dog drawled coolly. “He might have blamed you for her death, though, feared for his son’s safety. Little things like that can make a man stubborn, I hear.”

It could make a man hate. His father had hated this man and Dog knew it. Not that he remembered his father saying it, but he’d known it, even as a child.

“Yes, it can.” That regret once again. The bastard. “Before he went into those labs to train the Breeds there, Carson, your father, was a hardened soldier. He knew the value of the program, understood the work they were doing there. All that changed with her, though.” He watched Dog for long moments, as though he expected him to say something. “She didn’t even have a name. He called her Angel, though.”

His mother was an angel, his father had told him more than once.

Dog could feel his skin prickling with the fury he held back, his head filled with so much rage it threatened the control he had a stranglehold on.

“Chet, get me another drink,” Aaron ordered the guard at the back of the room.

Dog let a smile curl his lips at the resentment that tore through the soldier, the feeling that he was better than some servant to take such orders.

“Chet doesn’t think much of playing bartender,” Dog warned Aaron, watching the surprise that filled his lined expression. “Thinks he’s too good for it.”

Aaron shook his head. “Chet’s a good boy. His father was on Carson’s team. SEALs. They don’t come any better.”

“Hmm,” Dog muttered before giving the man a mocking smile. “Keep thinking that. Now, my time’s rather limited. Would you like to tell me why you suddenly want to claim your Breed grandson when the order to find me and turn me over to the Council was the order that went out when I was a child?”

Aaron accepted the drink from the soldier, though Dog detected a sudden wariness that hadn’t been there before.

“Age brings a different perspective.” Aaron breathed out roughly. “Both my children are gone, the legacy I’d leave behind at my death is gone.” There was the faintest hint of a plea in those eyes as Dog stared back at him. “Carson haunts me.” He swallowed tightly. “Choices I made then haunt me.”

Dog wanted to laugh. What held the enraged bark of laughter back he wasn’t certain.

“And you think threatening me with Cassie’s safety, with revealing my bloodline to the Genetics Council without the benefit of your fortune to protect me, is the way to handle that? What makes you think I need your fortune to protect me?”

“It’s not the fortune.” Aaron watched him now with a calculating gleam in his eyes. “It’s information you want, isn’t it, Cain?”

“Dog,” he corrected him smoothly.

A frown snapped between Aaron’s gray brows. “Cain …”

“Cainis. I believe the translation is ‘dog,’” Dog corrected him. “My name is Dog.”

“You’ll take the name Cain,” the old man gritted out. “It’s a family name given to the oldest son in each generation stretching back over a hundred years. Your father was Carson Cain, my name is Aaron Cain.”

Yeah, yeah, good old family legacies, right? That hadn’t done his parents a lot of good. “And my name is Dog,” Dog finished for him.

“As I was saying,” Aaron continued with a disagreeable snap. “It’s information you want. Information I have and would be more than willing to provide you in exchange for your agreement to not only disavow your mate, but the Breeds as a whole. You’ll take your place here, as my heir, and take over the various businesses. If you conduct yourself as I wish, in one year, I’ll turn over the information I have on the Genetics Council. Extensive information.”

That bark of laughter escaped; Dog couldn’t help it. “And why should I trust you have information that the Breeds haven’t acquired?”

Aaron turned to Chet and nodded.

Oh, Chet wasn’t a happy little soldier if the scent of malicious anger coming from him was any indication. But he was a good little soldier evidently. He collected a large envelope from a side table and stepped to Dog, extending it silently.

Keeping his eye on Aaron, Dog opened the file and extracted the pages within. There were three. Names were redacted, but there was no doubt it was a printout from a larger file detailing the identities of three of the Council members who sat on the Genetics Council.

He went over the information carefully, in case the pages somehow disappeared in the bloodshed coming. It was quite interesting, surprising really. If he’d been in the mood to be surprised.

Tucking the pages back into the envelope, he secured the flap and handed them back to the soldier. Old Chet wasn’t expecting that. He took the envelope hesitantly, looking back at his boss as though asking for guidance.

“It’s yours.” Aaron watched him warily. “All of it will be yours in a year …” He trailed off as Dog shook his head.

“If your identity is turned over to them, you’ll never be safe,” Aaron threatened him.

“Oh, good old Chet will take care of that either way,” Dog drawled, the look he gave the soldier assuring him he knew exactly what he’d do. “Spies rarely keep such things to themselves. And he’s a good little Council bitch, aren’t you, Chet?”

The soldier straightened, his hand settling on the weapon he wore as Dog chuckled knowingly. “That can be discussed later.” He turned back to Aaron. “That’s not the information I want.”

He could sense a vibration in the air, silent but steady, danger moving steadily closer as Chet made up his mind to kill. Not yet. He wanted to survive the bloodshed, Dog sensed. But it would come soon.

“What more could you want?” Confusion flickered across Aaron’s expression.

“I want to know what makes a man put out the order to kill his own son.” Dog wanted proof. “What made you think that hunting him down like an animal and threatening his woman, murdering her, then going after his child, would work for you?”

“There was no order to kill.” Aaron labored to his feet, grief, anger, hatred, flooding him. “Carson was to be returned. He was supposed to come home.” He stalked across the room and slapped the drink to the bar before gripping the edge with both hands and shuddering. “He left them no choice. The Council gave the order if they couldn’t take him alive, to kill him.” He turned back to Dog, his face heavy with the weight of that loss. “He chose to die.”

Incomprehensible. Aaron C. Ryder couldn’t imagine how his son could choose to die rather than turning his son over and accepting that his father had been behind his mate’s murder.

“But you gave the order to kill Angel,” he guessed. “Didn’t you?”

The old man sighed heavily. “I gave the order. God forgive me.”

“He’s the only one that might,” Dog admitted, aware of Chet moving to protect his boss, the soldier next to the door tensing.

“You can’t do anything, Cain.” Aaron shook his head heavily. “I’m a United States senator. All you can do is request your Breed Law be enacted. Killing me is the same as suicide. Your own people will hunt you down.”

“They won’t have to.” Dog shrugged. “You don’t understand, Senator. I might have disavowed my mate to protect her from you and your fucking twelve, but that’s nothing more than paper. If it takes my life to ensure her safety, then I’ll give it. Gladly.”

He didn’t bother to pull the knife he had hidden. He wouldn’t need it when the time came. The two soldiers were tense, hands on their weapons, hard gazes tracking his every move.

“If he dies, she’ll die anyway.” The soldier who spoke from the door did so without anger, without warning. It was a statement, nothing more. “That order’s already out. The sniper who deactivated that window and took a bead on her was just a warning.”

“You?” Dog asked without looking at him.

“Not me,” he denied. “I don’t kill women. Not for no amount of money. And I don’t know who it was. But he’ll kill her.”

“You’d have to get past the ghosts that protect her first.” Dog snorted, aware of the few times even he had sensed something otherworldly following her. “How do you think she’s survived this long?”

Evidently, the good senator had heard the rumors of Cassie’s visions.

“Now, do you want to die for this bastard?” He slid a look to the soldier he’d actually regret killing. “You can walk out. No harm, no foul.”

“You can’t kill him, Dog,” the soldier said with a sigh. “I can’t let you do that.”

It wasn’t out of loyalty. The odd note in the soldier’s voice mixed with his regret.

Dog shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to kill him.” He gave the senator a hard, cold smile. “For my mother. For ten years of grief my father suffered, for your betrayal. The danger you represent to my mate. I’m going to send you to hell, you son of a bitch.”

He was poised to jump for Chet first, trusting Mutt and Mongrel to ensure the other two represented no threat. Before he could reach for the bastard, a knife flew past his nose and buried itself in the soldier’s chest, piercing his heart.

He knew that knife. Right past his nose it flew; a breath closer and he’d have lost precious flesh.

“Are you crazy?” He whirled around just enough to catch the full impact of his mate’s fist as it slammed into his jaw, and all the wild rage in her snarl as she swept his feet out from under him.

His ass hit the floor, and as shock reverberated through his brain, she straddled his chest, another knife lying against his throat as he stared into the most mesmerizing sight of his life. Neon blue eyes, the color bleeding fully into the whites, witchy, otherworldly. There was a snarl on her lips and all those wild black curls flowed around him as she bent her head, glaring at him with furious outrage. And in that second, he felt her as he never had before. Her creature slammed into his senses as his tore aside the shields he’d had in place to protect the last of his soul.

Son of a bitch. His halfling had come for him. Her intent was to taste his blood perhaps, but still, she’d come for him and she wasn’t just demanding her due of him, she was taking it. She was his equal and she was letting him know it. She’d never walk behind him, she’d never fully submit anywhere but in their bed, and as she claimed that last part of him he couldn’t help but grin.

“Goddamn, halfling, you’re so fucking beautiful, you steal my breath. Son of a bitch if you don’t …”