“You want to stop this?” Sloane growled. “Then stop it!”

  Dex knew what Sloane was doing. His husband knew how to get the reaction he wanted out of Dex, knew what buttons to push, how to piss him off.

  “Do it,” Dex snapped at Keane, then gritted his teeth against the pain. This time he doubled over, but he didn’t fall to his knees. He closed his eyes and focused on everything but the electric jolt going through him, through Sloane. Something had been buried deep inside him for a while now, dormant, waiting to come to life. It terrified him, so much so he refused to set it free, but he could count on its strength. Opening his eyes, he met Sloane’s gaze and the knowing smile.

  “That’s it, baby. Show me.”

  Dex fought against the volts zapping through him and stood. He rolled his shoulders back, his hands balled into fists at his sides, flinching at the sharp pain against his palms from his change. Jaw clenched tight, he lifted his chin and stood motionless, his body thrumming with controlled effort as he forced everything back while Sloane shivered from the floor where he knelt.

  “Dios mío…” Keane whispered in disbelief. “You did it.”

  The pain stopped. Dex darted over to Sloane and crouched down in front of him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No. We’re in this together, okay?” Sloane let Dex help him to his feet, drops of sweat rolling down the sides of his face. He wiped it off with his sleeve as Dex removed the collar. He handed it to Keane, who returned it to its box. Dex turned to rub circles on Sloane’s back in comfort, doing his best to soothe not just his husband but the restless felid inside him. Keane handed the watch back to Dex and tapped his ear.

  “Dash received the invite from Vaughan a few minutes ago, which has been accepted. He’ll be sending a private plane for you both in a week. Your LA mansion and all the appropriate digital and paper trails are already set up. You’ll leave tonight. We won’t have a location for Vaughan’s retreat until you arrive, but you’ve been advised to pack for hot weather. As soon as you touch base, Ro and I will head out. I have a list of the Human guests, which you’ll both need to familiarize yourselves with before you get on the plane. There’s no intel on the Therians accompanying them.”

  “That’s concerning,” Sloane said.

  “You have profiles on Vaughan and his bodyguard and right-hand Therian, Tanner. He’s a tiger Therian with a reputation for being ruthless and violent. We believe he’s in charge of carrying out all of Vaughan’s dirty work. We’ll need you to get intel on the rest of Vaughan’s people, the lab, and the lead scientist, Dr. Olivia Reuter. Vaughan is always in business mode, which means constant communication with his lab team even if not directly.” Keane paused and tapped his ear, his wicked smile not boding well. “Oh, we’ve been assigned a new team member.”

  “Oh, this is going to be good,” Ro pitched in, clapping her hands. She tied her hair back and swung her slender legs back and forth, eyebrows waggling at Dex. Well, that couldn’t be good. Whenever Ro was excited about something, it usually meant trouble for Dex. The thing about Ro was that as much as Dex loved giving her shit, she loved giving it right back.

  Dex frowned. “Austen didn’t say anything about a new team member.”

  The door opened, and a familiar figure walked through. Dex couldn’t help his huge grin until he realized why they had a new member. He narrowed his eyes at the huge tiger Therian with bright green eyes.

  “Hey, Sebastian. How’s it hanging?”

  Sebastian Hobbs was a former team leader for the THIRDS. At seven feet tall and three hundred pounds, with muscles upon muscles, the guy should have been terrifying, but his friendly face and kind eyes gave him away every time. He was also a by-the-book, get-things-done guy, which meant he’d been sent here for one reason—to babysit Dex.

  Seb chuckled as he greeted Sloane with a handshake and pat on the back before turning to Dex, his smile wide. “Is that the kind of greeting I get after saving your ass in Paris?”

  “First of all,” Dex said, holding a finger up. “My ass did not need saving. It wasn’t that long of a way down.”

  “Right,” Seb replied, pretending to look serious. “Forgot how short the Eiffel Tower was.”

  “Second of all—” Dex held a second finger up, then turned both in the Brit hand signal for “fuck off,” which Seb was quite familiar with, seeing as how he was married to a Brit. “Had you not insisted I leave the motorcycle behind, I would’ve caught the target sooner and not had to chase him into a national monument.”

  “You, motorcycles, and national monuments don’t play well together.”

  “Dex and any kind of vehicle don’t go well together,” Ro said, a big smile on her face. “Remember the tank he ‘commandeered’ in Russia?”

  “One, I don’t appreciate the finger quotes,” Dex said, demonstrating with his fingers. “And B, that fucker was from the Cold War. It’s not my fault the cannon was so rusted it fell off.”

  Ro wrinkled her nose. “It squished that guy like a bug.”

  “A guy who was planning to blow up the embassy,” Dex said.

  “And instead blew up under your ‘commandeered’ tank,” Rowan added.

  “Hey, our mission was to stop him. No one said how.” Everybody was a critic.

  Seb scratched his stubbled jaw. “Paris and Russia have nothing to do with why I’m here.”

  Another terrible actor. Had it been anyone else, Dex would have been pissed, but Seb wasn’t just any operative—he was family, one of Destructive Delta’s original Defense agents back before Dex had joined the THIRDS. A tragic case had seen Seb removed from Destructive Delta, only to have him promoted to team leader of his own THIRDS team years later. Seb and his team had been backup for Destructive Delta for years. And now here they were.

  “They sent you to babysit me, didn’t they?”

  “No. They sent me in to assist.”

  Dex crossed his arms over his chest. “Your objective?”

  “Same as yours.”

  “Your objective concerning me.”

  “Classified.” The mischievous gleam in Seb’s eyes was answer enough.

  “Right. How’s your war against the cookies going?”

  Seb sighed. “It’s probably time for me to admit defeat. I find them everywhere. Found a packet of Digestives cookies under his pillow two nights ago.”

  “Well, he’s a wolf Therian. You know how much they like to hide things.” Just like it was in a felid Therian’s nature to swat at things and go nuts over boxes, it was in a canid Therian’s nature to hide stashes and commandeer all blankets as theirs. Some wolf Therians hid their jewelry, some hid cash, others hid electronics. Dr. Hudson Colbourn hid cookies. The guy had a serious cookie—or biscuit as Hudson would say—problem, much to his husband’s lament. Seb had been as successful at getting Hudson to cut down on his cookie addiction as Sloane had been on trying to get Dex to give up his gummy bears and cheesy doodles.

  “You ready for this?” Seb asked.

  Damn right he was ready. Time to do what he vowed to do when he joined TIN.

  Make those bastards pay.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  [Location: Redacted, Somewhere over the Atlantic]

  Undercover work was more than playing dress-up.

  When your life depended on your ability to lie, to immerse yourself into the legend and become someone else, it was more than a performance. Sloane had found it challenging at first; he wasn’t a natural performer, unlike Dex. As a former detective for the Human Police Force, going undercover was nothing new for his husband. Sloane was grateful for Dex’s experience. It made Sloane’s learning curve easier. For all of his goofball ways, Dex was a good teacher.

  Sloane’s felid half was another story. It didn’t understand why his mate looked, acted, and smelled different. As a bonded mate, Dex’s scent was forever mixed with Sloane’s, even if they weren’t together. It was a part of Dex. The scars left behind by Sloane’s claws on Dex’s arm might be covered by the gorgeous and elaborate tattoo—one half of a picture, the other half being on Sloane’s opposite forearm—but it couldn’t mask Dex’s scent. For that, Dex wore an undistinguishable sleeve that hid his tattoo and his marked scent.

  Sloane absently scratched his arm and the tattoo that had been airbrushed out with a waterproof flesh tone. Dex sat beside him in an obscenely expensive navy three-piece suit with a white silk shirt and orange silk tie. His brown brogues were Italian leather, his mirrored sunglasses designer, and his wedding ring was tucked securely with Sloane’s back at HQ. The only jewelry he wore was a silver band on his pinky with a black diamond supplied by Keane.

  Gone was the dirty-blond hair and blue eyes. In their place, a rich chestnut pristinely styled to one side, a short dark beard neatly trimmed, and deep brown eyes. Dex sat with one leg elegantly bent, ankle resting on his opposite knee, and his hands on his lap, fingers laced. His face was turned toward the window. The posture, his cologne, the set of his jaw, all of it was Dash Delacruz. It had taken Sloane some time to get used to Dex becoming Delacruz. They’d spent a week immersing themselves into their roles at Delacruz’s ten-acre estate in LA.

  Sloane didn’t care what he had to wear, but he was glad for his beard. It wasn’t often he needed to shave for a mission, and being without his beard tended to make him feel exposed. So far, the hardest part for Sloane was fighting his Therian half. His inner felid hadn’t stopped giving him shit for the change in Dex’s scent. Controlling his instinct to shift and roar, to let his Therian half out to show his fury at being denied the claim over his mate, was getting easier now that his felid half had stopped being an asshole.

  The flight attendant approached, and Sloane readied himself.

  “Mr. Delacruz?”

  Dex moved his attention away from the window to her, a tolerant smile on his handsome face. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Vaughan would like to welcome you to his retreat, and as a thank-you for accepting his invitation, we have a complimentary glass of vintage whisky from his private collection.”

  “Which bottle?” Dex asked, sounding bored.

  “The Macallan 1926.”

  Dex waved her off. “That’ll do.”

  With a polite bow of her head, she disappeared and reappeared minutes later with a silver tray, a crystal decanter, and a glass. She poured him two fingers of whisky and handed the glass to him with a cocktail napkin.

  “Would you like anything else, sir?”

  Dex took a sip of his drink before petting Sloane’s leg. “Bring some water for Brodie. Good water. A bottle.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The moment they’d settled in at Delacruz’s mansion, the show had begun. A week later, Vaughan sent a private plane to pick them up. Not long after takeoff, Dex had used the bathroom and returned to discreetly confirm they were under surveillance. Considering Vaughan’s excitement at having them at his retreat, they weren’t surprised the guy was keeping a close eye on them.

  Finished with his drink, Dex placed the empty glass on the tray in front of them. He turned in his seat and ran his fingers through Sloane’s hair. “Such a good boy.” Placing a finger under Sloane’s chin, he turned his face toward him. “Give me a kiss.”

  Sloane leaned in, reminding himself he wasn’t kissing his husband, he was kissing his employer. His lover. Brodie wasn’t with Delacruz because he was in love. Delacruz provided him with all the luxury he wanted in exchange for being his sexual plaything and bodyguard. As far as Brodie was concerned, it was a sweet deal. He pressed his lips to Dex’s and let Dex take the lead, parting his lips only when it was demanded of him. The flight attendant returned, and Dex pulled back. He took the bottle of water she offered with a nod of thanks.

  “Oh, he’s impressive. May I?”

  Dex smiled pleasantly. “Of course.”

  Gingerly, she reached out and ran a hand over Sloane’s hair. Inside him, his felid half hissed, but Sloane remained still and relaxed, as if having Humans pet him was nothing new. They were a far cry away from the world they knew.

  “Mr. Vaughan informed us he was well-trained.” She scratched at his bearded jaw, and it took everything he had not to smack her hand away. “Such a good boy,” she cooed. “I’ve never seen a domesticated jaguar Therian before.”

  “Domesticated?” Sloane growled, his ferocity startling her. She jumped back, her fearful gaze flying to Dex. “I’m sorry,” Sloane said with a laugh. “I was just messing around.” He grinned broadly at Dex. “Gets them every time.” Brodie was a bit of an asshole, but in this instance, Sloane wasn’t exactly broken up about it.

  “You’re terrible,” Dex said with a chuckle before he took her hand and patted it, then a charming smile spread across his handsome face. “He loves to tease Humans. He won’t hurt you. Brodie only does what I tell him.” He released her hand and sat back.

  “Oh.” She laughed nervously, her uncertain gaze moving to Sloane. “You got me.”

  “The reason you haven’t seen many like Brodie is that jaguar Therians are the hardest to domesticate,” Dex informed her. “All Therians are lethal, but everyone knows felid Therians are by far the most stubborn, and the deadliest. His claws are capable of shredding through Human flesh like paper, but a jaguar Therian has the strongest bite of all the felids. It’s so powerful that his fangs can pierce through your skull.” Dex made a chomping motion with his hand making her flinch.

  She gasped, her eyes going huge and her hand flying to her chest. “Oh my God! What if… what if he attacks you?” She whispered the words as if Sloane wasn’t right there. He also had Therian hearing and could technically hear her from across the plane.

  “I acquired a few battle scars, but they’re a reminder of what I’ve won. He may have claws, but I have money and power. Lots of it. Brodie happens to enjoy both. Win-win.”

  She gave Sloane a questioning look, and he smiled. He moved his gaze to Dex, waiting.

  “Who do you belong to?” Dex asked.

  “You,” Sloane said without hesitation.

  “Who would you never harm?”

  “You.”

  Dex smiled, his husband hiding somewhere behind the expensive suit and mirrored sunglasses. “Who do you need?”

  “You.”

  “Who would you die for?”

  Sloane held his hand out to Dex, palm up. “You.”

  Dex took it and brought it to his lips, kissing his fingers. “Good boy.”

  “Aw.” The flight attendant melted. “That’s so sweet.”

  You know what else is sweet? My using you for a scratching post. That’d be really sweet. How long had she been around “domesticated” Therians that she considered this interaction normal? When did she decide someone like him deserved no better than to be a Human’s pet, that he wasn’t worthy of the same rights as a Human? Yeah, playing an asshole on this mission wasn’t going to be much of a hardship.

  The pilot announced they were to prepare for landing.

  “I better go. Have a wonderful time at the retreat. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  “Thank you,” Dex replied. “I’m sure I will.”

  She left them, and Dex petted Sloane’s leg again, his hand lingering on Sloane’s knee for a heartbeat before he returned it to his lap. The touch to his leg wasn’t from Delacruz but from Dex, in order to keep them grounded, an intimate touch known only to them. Sloane leaned in and nuzzled Dex’s face, appearing to seek attention, but in truth letting his husband know he was right there with him. Dex patted his cheek before handing Sloane the bottle of water.

  “Drink. It’s going to be hot when we land.”

  Sloane took the bottle from him, his fingers brushing over Dex’s, a pleased smile coming onto Sloane’s face at the slight shiver he caused. That was all Dex, but it worked for their cover as well. After all, Brodie was keen on keeping Delacruz satisfied and happy. No one was stealing his billionaire. And Delacruz loved nothing more than sexing up the jaguar Therian he believed belonged to him in every way.

  “So naughty,” Dex hummed, running a finger along Sloane’s jawline.

  “You love it when I’m bad.” Sloane wrapped a hand around Dex’s wrist and nipped at his finger, making Dex shift in his seat. That was all his husband, and Sloane loved it.

  “I’ll show you bad when we’re in private,” Dex promised, leaning in to capture Sloane’s lips in a quick but rough kiss, one that went straight to Sloane’s cock.

  When they landed at the small private airfield, a helicopter waited for them, nothing but dirt and desert all around. It was hot as hell, a dry breeze whipping at Sloane’s skin. Vaughan’s man greeted them and carried their luggage while Sloane played his part of dutiful Therian bodyguard by helping Dex climb into the helicopter and snarling at Vaughan’s man when he reached for Dex. The guy jumped out of his skin, frowning at Dex when he laughed.

  “He’s very protective. Don’t mind him. He won’t hurt you.” A wicked grin came onto his face. “Unless I tell him to.”

  Dex held his arms out to the sides, and Sloane fastened the seat belt for him. He patted the seat next to him, and Sloane sat, then fastened his own seat belt. The engine roared to life, and the helicopter blades sliced through the air. Across from Sloane, Vaughan’s man was all but shitting himself. Dex’s grin couldn’t get any wider. “Domesticated” or not, it would seem Vaughan’s people were a little intimidated by Sloane. A definite advantage on his part.

  Nothing but desert stretched on for miles until he spotted the Atlas Mountains in the distance. They were heading for southwestern Morocco. Sand and dirt soon turned into lush greenery as they flew over an ocean of canyons and ravines at the base of the mountains near Toubkal. The number of properties Vaughan owned was unknown. The ones TIN did know of were well hidden behind shell companies and false identities. Was the luxury hotel just another one of Vaughan’s ill-gotten possessions?

  A week. That’s how long they had to find Vaughan’s lab without blowing their cover; extract Vaughan, Dr. Reuter, and the virus; and save Cory. During that time, they were expected to participate in an itinerary of events of Vaughan’s creation, a few of which were “special surprises.” Sloane would feel better once their team arrived.