Sylvan grinned and rocked her hips, sliding her clitoris over Drake’s. Her eyes shimmered, brighter than sunlight. “That’s why we guard Pack secrets.”

  Drake fisted Sylvan’s hair and dragged her head down, kissing her again. She was ready for Sylvan, had been ready since she’d held Sylvan while she slept. Sylvan’s clitoris pulsed along the length of hers. Sylvan was ready too and was holding back. Letting Drake lead, letting her needs guide them. The longer they kissed, the more the pheromones sheening their skin blended, enclosing them in a cloud of neurostimulants and hormones. Drake’s glands pulsed, her claws extruded, her canines dropped. Her sex pounded as Sylvan slowly thrust between her legs.

  “I love you,” Drake said, her face becoming more angular and stark, her voice roughening. Sylvan licked her mark, the shadow of her bite on Drake’s shoulder that would never completely disappear. Drake arched as Sylvan’s mouth triggered a surge of erogenous chemicals.

  Sylvan whined softly in the back of her throat when Drake’s slick heat enclosed her.

  Drake smiled. “You like that, don’t you, when I hold you inside me.”

  “More than I love life.” Sylvan’s chest heaved and her muscles trembled. “Take all of me.”

  “Soon.” Drake drew her hips away, denying Sylvan the breeding lock.

  “Don’t play with me, Wolf,” Sylvan snarled. “I’ve been patient.”

  “I know.” Drake caressed her face. “I know you have.”

  “Then let me answer your call. Let me make you come.”

  “You always do,” Drake gasped, her stomach tightening.

  Sylvan thrust, her face taking on the fiercely possessive look she got when she was claiming her—the look Drake loved. Too soon, too soon to end.

  “Wait!” Drake bucked her hips, rolled Sylvan onto her back, and sat astride Sylvan’s hips. Her center settled onto Sylvan’s, but Sylvan would not have enough pressure to spend.

  “Drake,” Sylvan warned, her hips thrusting automatically. “I can’t stop now.” Her canines flashed. She was already on the path to release. “I need you to bite me.”

  “Maybe I want slow,” Drake panted, her insides an inferno. Her breasts were tight, her nipples puckered and hard. The thin line of midnight pelt bisected her carved abdominals, and her chest and thigh muscles vibrated with tension.

  “You’re close to release,” Sylvan growled. “So am I.”

  Drake grabbed Sylvan’s hands and carried them to her breasts. “I don’t want it to be over too soon. God, touch me.”

  “It doesn’t matter how quickly it’s over, we can do it again.” Sylvan massaged Drake’s breasts, flicked her nipples.

  Drake’s vision shimmered. “Harder.”

  Sylvan reared up and caught Drake’s nipple in her mouth, her arms coming around Drake’s waist, trapping Drake in the cradle of her lap. She bit down on Drake’s nipple, and Drake arched and whined. Sylvan scraped her claws lightly up and down Drake’s back, licking her way from one breast to the other while Drake writhed and thrust against her stomach.

  “I need to come,” Drake moaned. She thrust her hands into Sylvan’s hair, tugging fitfully, and rubbed her breasts over Sylvan’s face. Her glands were so full, so tight, her stomach bunched with pain. She couldn’t wait any longer. She needed to empty. Sylvan sucked her nipple, and her claws shot out. “Bite me, Sylvan. God. I can’t stand it.”

  “We’re not locked,” Sylvan groaned. “I shouldn’t come yet. Your breeding frenzy…”

  “I don’t care. I don’t care. We’ll do it again. Just make me come now.”

  Sylvan gripped Drake’s hair and pulled her chin back to expose her throat. She scraped her canines over the pounding vessels in Drake’s neck, and Drake quivered in her arms.

  “Please,” Drake keened, and Sylvan’s control snapped. She bit into the thick muscle in the angle of Drake’s shoulder, and Drake exploded in her lap, bucking and groaning, coating her skin with her essence. Sylvan’s clitoris pounded and her stomach cramped. Then Drake’s mouth was on hers, and Drake’s tongue was sliding between her lips, wet and warm and strong. Drake slid her palm down the slick slope of Sylvan’s belly and squeezed her sex. When Drake’s fingers closed around her clitoris and tugged, Sylvan forgot about breeding, forgot about Pack imperative, forgot everything except the sweet ecstasy of Drake’s touch. She released with a roar, flooding Drake’s hand.

  “God,” Drake murmured, sagging into Sylvan’s arms. “I love when you do that.”

  Sylvan clasped Drake tightly and guided her down to the forest floor, their arms and legs entwined. “That was supposed to be inside you.” Sylvan gently bit Drake’s jaw. “You need me that way, or your mating frenzy won’t be quieted.”

  “I know. Good thing for me you’re so potent.” Drake grinned. “After all, what good is it being mated to the Alpha if she’s only good for one shot? You do have something left, don’t you?”

  Sylvan snarled, her eyes going completely gold for an instant before she pushed her hips between Drake’s legs and slotted her still-erect clitoris into the cleft in Drake’s sex. Drake’s eyes rolled back, and she clutched Sylvan’s shoulders hard enough to draw blood.

  “Yes,” Drake gasped, feeling herself close around Sylvan. “Now. Fill me now.” She held Sylvan’s eyes for an instant of perfect union, then buried her canines in Sylvan’s chest. Sylvan arched, hips pumping, and surrendered to her mate.

  *

  A high-pitched whine woke Becca. She figured out pretty quickly she’d been sleeping, but it took her a few more seconds to figure out where she was. Her bedroom. She got the where part, but not the when. She hated waking up and not knowing if it was early morning or late afternoon. A good bet was morning, because she never took naps. But she couldn’t be sure, and a quick look out the window didn’t help any. The watery gray sky could have harbingered the arrival of dusk or dawn.

  When had she fallen asleep? She hadn’t meant to, but two days of little sleep, high stress, and unwelcome sexual arousal had worn her thin. She’d barely managed to finish typing up her notes before she’d collapsed onto the bed in her clothes. Sometime during her unplanned nap she’d obviously roused enough to pull off her pants and her shirt, because she was wearing nothing now but her bra and panties.

  The whine came again, and this time she recognized the vibration of her cell phone on the bedside table.

  She grabbed the phone and held it up in the semidark. Five thirty p.m. She swiped the green receive call bar. “Hello?”

  She got empty air and cleared her throat. She probably sounded like she’d been sleeping under a bridge. “Hello? This is Becca Land.”

  “Tell the Alpha her missing females aren’t gonna last much longer.”

  Becca shot up in bed, totally alert. “What missing females?”

  Asking the caller to identify himself was pointless. She’d received enough anonymous tips in her life to know that. If he—and it was definitely a he this time—wanted her to know his name, he’d say so. And if experience was any indicator, she had about sixty seconds to find out as much about the five critical Ws as she possibly could before he got cold feet and hung up. Who, where, what, when, and if it all possible, why?

  “Who are they? What are their names?”

  “They won’t tell us.” The guy’s words tumbled over each other, like they were being spewed out of a pressure cooker. He was nervous or scared. “They get numbers, not names. They’re not exactly cooperative.”

  “When was the last time you saw them?” Maybe the anonymous informant had direct contact with the victims, but it was possible he’d only heard about them. If he was only passing on a rumor in the hopes of making a few bucks, the tip was a lot more iffy.

  “A few hours ago. Tell Mir she doesn’t have much time.”

  “How many? How many are there?”

  “Two that I know of. There could be more somewhere else.”

  “And they’re both still alive?”

  “Not for long.”

  “Who has them?”

  “You think they tell the hired help? Just tell Mir to look for them.”

  “Wait,” Becca said, her heart pounding. “Meet with me. Anywhere you say. I’ll come alone. I’ll pay. You wouldn’t be calling me if you didn’t want someone to find them. Help me do that. I promise you—”

  “No fucking way. I’m risking my ass doing this much. But I didn’t sign on to torture anybody, keeping them chained up like animals.”

  Like animals. Becca felt sick. She sucked in a breath. Focus. Focus. “Where are they? Tell me where to send the Alpha.”

  “They move them around. They won’t be here much longer.”

  “Where is here? Address. Give me a location.”

  “I can’t. I don’t even know for sure.”

  “What do you mean? You must know—”

  “Everything is locked down twenty-four hours a day. Guards. Surveillance. All of us…shit—”

  “Hello? Hello?” The dead silence filled her with cold dread. God damn it. Why her? Sure, her number was listed, but she wasn’t the only reporter in the city. Okay, maybe she was one of the few reporters giving more copy space to the Praetern side of the issues than to the rabid human separatist factions, but still, there had to be another reason she was the go-to girl for hot—and exceedingly vague—tips all of a sudden. Frustrated, she pushed *69. Nothing, of course. Blocked call. Most likely a prepay. God, was it really possible someone was kidnapping Weres, and Sylvan didn’t know? But why? Why kidnap someone, and then not use them for ransom or political leverage? Why keep it a secret?

  I didn’t sign on to torture anybody.

  Becca’s stomach dropped. The only reason to keep kidnap victims in a fortified laboratory would be to study them. Experiment on them, maybe. She didn’t want to believe that was possible, but it was her job to consider the horrific, to uncover evil, to expose depravity. She thought of the human girls with Were fever. Was all of this related? Maybe. It seemed plausible.

  Becca kicked aside the sheet and swung her legs to the floor. Why call her? Why not call Sylvan? A trap? Maybe. But she wasn’t a threat to anyone.

  She was used to working with more questions than answers, but one thing was certain. She needed to talk to Sylvan Mir.

  *

  Good thing she’d saved the route back from the Compound in her onboard GPS the night before—all she had to do was reverse her course until she reached the spot where she’d stopped and Dasha had found her. Then she waited. Six thirty p.m. A few minutes after sundown. Jody, wherever she was, would be awake. She’d be hungry. Would Marissa be feeding her tonight, or would Jody find some stranger, or several of them, to fill her needs while she fulfilled their fantasies?

  “Lost again?” Dasha leaned on the open window frame of Becca’s door. She wore the same regulation black BDUs, but tonight she had an automatic rifle slung over her back.

  “Don’t you get any time off?” Becca’s pulse pounded in her throat. She hadn’t seen Dasha approach.

  Dasha smiled. “What are you doing here, Ms. Land?”

  “I came back to see the Alpha.” Becca twisted in her seat, and her face ended up only inches from Dasha’s. “You didn’t have a rifle last night.”

  “You’re observant.”

  “That’s my job. You’re expecting armed combat, aren’t you? With who? Rival Weres?”

  Dasha’s brows snapped together and her eyes glinted. “You’re walking a dangerous path. Callan was generous, but the centuri may not be. You should leave now before you’re taken into custody. Even your Vampire Liege will not be able to help you then.”

  “She’s not my Liege.”

  “I heard her claim blood rights.”

  “Well, you didn’t hear me agree,” Becca shot back. It might’ve been nice if Jody had clued her in on what the hell all of this meant before she made public proclamations. Asking permission would have been nice too. “I need to speak to your Alpha about missing Weres.”

  “Missing.” Dasha’s voice dropped dangerously low, gold cascaded through her emerald irises, and a growl reverberated in her throat.

  Becca inched back from the window, keeping her gaze steady on Dasha. Somehow she didn’t think it would be a good idea to cower when Dasha was on the verge of shifting, although a huge part of her wanted to curl up in a little ball on the front seat and put her arms over her head. “I’ll wait here until you can get a message to someone. Preferably Sylvan. She’ll want to talk to me.”

  “Please stay in the car.”

  Becca surveyed the slowly darkening woods around her. Where exactly would she go? There was no way she could find the Compound by herself. Still, she nodded. “Whatever you say.”

  A minute passed. Another. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t remembered to eat. After a quick shower to clear her head, she’d pulled on whatever was handy, which happened to be jeans, a scoop-necked green cotton tee, and plain black low-heeled boots. She’d hurried out with just the essentials she always carried in her purse. She didn’t even think she had a PowerBar in the glove compartment. Good thing she wasn’t planning on surveillance.

  “Come with me, please,” Dasha said.

  Déjà vu. Becca grabbed her purse. “Why can’t I drive in?”

  “Your vehicle is not built for the terrain, and we do not allow outsiders to drive in the Compound.”

  Outsiders. The term stung, no matter how apt. Becca slammed her door and dropped her keys into her bag. “Right. Okay. Back in your chariot, then.”

  Dasha grinned, but she didn’t seem amused. “You’re very persistent.”

  “So I’ve been told. Among other things.”

  “You should be more cautious where you go alone. Or more afraid.”

  Becca gritted her teeth. She was really tired of being warned off. “What exactly do you get out of fostering this Big Bad Wolf façade?”

  Dasha held open the door of the Hummer-on-steroids. “Sometimes, a warning works as well as blood.”

  “Fine. Consider me warned.” Becca climbed in and yanked her seat belt across her chest. Jody warned her off to prevent her from giving up her blood. The Weres warned her off so they wouldn’t have to shed it. She’d never thought of her blood as so valuable. Maybe she should start. Maybe she’d been missing the most important point all along.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Veronica Standish clicked off the scanning electron microscope and slammed closed the notebook next to her right hand. She instantly regretted the small show of frustration but didn’t bother to chastise herself since there was no one else in the lab. She never lost her temper and didn’t tolerate displays of emotion in those who worked under her. Maintaining the appropriate professional distance was particularly important now that they were working with live subjects. Everyone involved in Project Apex needed to keep the ultimate goal of preserving the integrity of the human species in mind and to remember that any means were justified. Only those who were able to display logical thinking and emotional distance could be trusted to generate reliable data. Unfortunately, none of her dozen project heads were generating data that brought her any closer to the answers she sought. She snatched the wall phone from its place next to the sealed chamber doors and punched in an extension. She tapped her foot, waiting.

  “Adam Sullivan.”

  “In my office. Five minutes. Bring the gel filtration results.”

  “They’re only preliminary. Nothing conclusive.”

  “I’ll make my own determination.” She hung up without bothering to say good-bye. Why waste words by stating the obvious?

  She pressurized the airlock isolating the Level 4 lab and adjoining holding cells from the rest of the building and stepped into the control chamber. She stripped off the heavy green cover gown, shoe covers, and cap and tossed everything into a biohazard bag. After she retrieved her burgundy suit jacket from the peg she’d hung it on earlier, she reversed the pressure and let herself out into the adjoining hallway. She waited a few seconds until the door clicked closed, assured herself the computerized locks had engaged, and headed down the dim hallway to her office.

  Most of the other rooms along the corridor were dark, the technicians and scientists having left hours previously. She glanced at her watch. Precisely 1900. Early yet. Her office at the end of the hall was the largest on the floor, but seemed smaller due to the overflowing bookcases and the huge partner’s desk crowded with folders, journals, and stacks of printouts. She walked to the window and watched the headlights streak by on the distant highway to the west. The mountains surrounding the sprawling complex rose like forbidding shadows against the horizon.

  Somewhere out there right now, hundreds of Weres hunted, mated, and bred. They’d been doing it for centuries. How had the human race let that happen? How could they have been blind to the presence of soulless predators in their midst? In their arrogance, the Praeterns had made a fatal mistake. In attempting to secure the future of their species by negotiating for the same rights as humans, by declaring their right to exist simply by existing, they had surrendered their greatest weapon. Invisibility. Now she and others like her around the world could right the wrong that had gone unattended for millennia.

  The Weres were the greatest danger to human civilization of all the Ptaeterns—largest in number, well organized, and with a charismatic and intelligent leader. Sylvan Mir was a formidable adversary, but ultimately, she was still just an animal. The newspaper photograph of her losing control in a hospital ER showed just how different she really was. Ultimately, no one would complain about containing and controlling—or eliminating—a dangerous predator, any more than they complained about shooting rabid dogs. Oh, the other Praeterns were of concern, but their numbers were smaller and their reproductive capabilities even more limited.

  She laughed, tracing a line through the condensation left by her breath on the window. Evolutionary mistakes happened all the time. As a result, some species were destined for extinction, and rightly so. The Praeterns had escaped the natural order of things through a perversion of biology.