Navarro's Promise

CHAPTER 5

Breeds were trained from childhood to exist on little sleep, to take power naps, eyes open if necessary. Outside of training, they had learned how to set an internal clock while leaving their primal senses open, in order to slip into a deep, healing sleep for as long as possible.

Eight hours. It had been a long time since Navarro had found the time, the ability or the awareness of external security to actually sleep for more than three to four hours.

He was rarely at Haven long enough to lock himself into his small home and simply sleep, and the rest of the time he was either off base on a mission or tracking down the remnants of the Omega lab and the remnants of the Genetics Council now working with the pure blood societies to find a way to destroy the Breeds.

It had been fourteen years since the Breeds had revealed themselves, and still there were those who believed they had no place in the world and no right to be there. That because of their creation, because they were created rather than born, they had no rights to their freedom.

So many years since the revelation of their existence, and still they were fighting that battle.

It was a battle Navarro feared they would never win. A battle he feared would end up seeing them once again in hiding and fighting to simply survive.

Now he was showered and dressing in the fine cotton khaki pants, dress shirt and the comfortable leather boots he preferred when not on mission.

Stylish.

He brushed back the thick, straight black strands of his hair before striding from the large bathroom and through the bedroom, coming to a slow, cautious stop.

His head lifted, his nostrils flaring, as the scent of her reached him, sliding across his senses like the softest caress. Like the stroke of her fingers.

His cock hardened, and damn, just that fast he was so hard it was fucking painful.

He smothered a groan, his hands running through his hair as a hard grimace tightened his lips. This wasn’t his day. It wasn’t his week, that was obvious. That today—he gave his head a hard shake before quickly running his tongue over his lower teeth.

Okay, no swollen glands.

He wasn’t snarling for sex, just on the verge of growling for it.

Not mating. Yet.

Gripping the back of his neck, he wondered what the hell was going on here, but he couldn’t seem to stop hungering for her. His ability to take another woman had even dimmed. All interest in having any female but Mica in his bed had deserted him since the night he’d kissed her at Haven more than a month before.

She was out there. She was waiting on him.

His lips quirked, almost in a grin. And she was certain she was going to surprise him. Because she believed his recessed genetics included his sense of smell.

He almost shook his head. He was going to have to tell her the truth soon, but damn if it hadn’t been nice, the moment she had relaxed, believing she could be herself with him. That she didn’t have to stress out over him sensing her little exaggerations of the truth. Over her body’s hot little reaction to him.

Like how hot and wet her pussy got whenever he was around.

How hot it was now.

He wasn’t a Breed to ignore such need either.

Continuing his journey through the bedroom, he stepped through the doorway into the comfortable sitting room of the suite, then came to a quick stop, as though surprised.

She wasn’t going to be happy when she learned the truth of that supposed recessed sense.

“Now, I’m fairly certain I locked the door.” His brow arched as he stared back at her, rather impressed at how comfortable she looked as she lounged in the high-backed chair that sat across from him.

Mica smiled demurely. “I’m really quite adept at picking locks. Did Jonas forget to mention that?”

“He did,” he admitted as he tilted his head slightly to the side and watched her with a curious sense of amusement and felt those tendrils of emotion reaching out to him once again.

“I hear you’re the big bad bodyguard here.” Her smile, though tentative, was just charming as hell. The Cupid’s bow curve of her lips and the gleam of laughter that brightened the green in her golden green eyes transformed her face from incredibly pretty to completely sensual.

“I heard I was your big bad bodyguard,” he amended, watching her closely as she moved stiffly to her feet, his senses catching the stiffness and pain in her ribs that she refused to give in to.

“That’s what I heard too.” She tossed him a flirty little smile that had his balls tightening. “And I was told I had to come find you before I could leave the main house. So let’s get going, bodyguard of mine.”

“And where exactly would we be going?” he asked, moving behind her as he picked up the jacket she had thrown over the chair just inside the door.

Collecting the black leather overcoat he’d retrieved from the locker he maintained in Sanctuary’s enforcer quarters, he followed her through the door, closed it and locked it securely as she stood back and watched him.

“Where are we going then?” he asked.

“Dr. Morrey has ordered me to the labs for a checkup,” she told him, not in the least pleased by that fact. “Jonas seems to think I should have X-rays, and my parents are having conniptions because I didn’t want to. To keep Mom from sobbing on the phone, I promised I’d do it immediately.” She headed for the stairs.

“We could take the elevator.” Reaching out, he caught her wrist before she could take the first step. “It would be easier on your ribs.”

“They’re sore, not broken,” she informed him, that displeasure turning on him now.

“Sore enough that you willingly took the elevator when we arrived yesterday morning,” he reminded her. “The only reason you didn’t end up with a broken rib was sheer luck, Mica.”

Her lips thinned as she tucked her hair behind her left ear and glanced at the stairs uncomfortably. “If I give in, then it’s like admitting they hurt me,” she muttered. “I hate that feeling.”

It was a feeling he and more than a thousand Breed males could fully relate to. The Council had had enough power over them that even the thought of showing their pain could fill them with fury.

“They’re not here to see it,” he assured her as he drew her back from the elegant curved staircase of the historic old Southern mansion and led her to the end of the hall where the private elevator was located. “No one is here to see it but me.”

He pressed the down button, then waited as the doors slid smoothly open with a soft hiss before he stepped inside. He almost grinned at the encouraging tug he had to give to her wrist.

Once they were closed within the small cubicle, he pushed the button for the medical labs, and restrained the tension that suddenly wanted to enfold him.

Even as it began to whip around him though, he felt those wisps of warmth that were already becoming much too familiar, as they seemed to reach out to him unconsciously, wrapping around him, and he swore, blocking the rising wariness he felt as the elevator began to slide far below the main floor of the house.

She was staring at the elevator doors with a frown, her expression still mutinous. As Navarro watched her through her reflection in the shiny steel of the doors in front of her, he knew those tendrils of emotion, of warmth, radiating from her had to be subconscious.

Was this the reason Dash rushed this young woman to his daughter’s side whenever Cassie’s life seemed to be spinning out of control? Because the empathy that seemed to be such a natural part of her reached out instinctively to those she cared for?

“I hate elevators,” she sighed. “And this one has always been so slow. When is Callan going to update it to one of those nice fast little models that doesn’t take all day to reach the labs?”

“I believe he may have mentioned something about hell freezing over the last time Jonas asked that question,” Navarro answered ruefully. “You know Callan. He hates changing the interior of the house any more than he has to. He knows all its quirks and all its faults. Says he doesn’t want to learn new tricks.”

“That is just so wrong.” She moved to cross her arms over her breasts, then dropped them to her sides once again with a careful sigh.

“How did they catch you?” It was a question he had avoided asking, uncertain if he really wanted to know the truth of who to begin the killing with.

“A weasel,” she finally answered with an edge of self-disgust. “I was working on a story with one of the reporters at the newspaper. The contact I’d been working with left me a message to meet him, said he had some information.” She looked up at him with an edge of anger. “I should have known better. They were waiting on me when I stepped into the hall that led to the back exit where I was supposed to meet him.”

“Who was your contact?” he asked carefully.

A soft little puff of exasperation met his question. “You really think I’m going to answer that question, Navarro? Don’t you think I’ve been around Breeds long enough to know exactly what happens when someone is dumb enough to cross you? You would run and tattle straight to Dash and Dad, then all hell would rain down on his weaselly little head. Forget it.”

He stared straight ahead. “I promise not to call Dash; I simply need to know who to keep tabs on if we resolve this situation.”

“I’m not stupid.” The elevator eased its descent, halting as she finished speaking, the doors sliding open smoothly. “You would just kill him yourself.”

His jaw clenched. He wanted the name of her contact. The man wasn’t a weasel, he was a fucking little mouse and Navarro was the Wolf Breed that was about to go hunting.

The sight that met his eyes as the elevator opened didn’t help his mood any. The Wolf Breed assigned to lab security was one he hadn’t expected.

“Mica, it’s about time you got down here.” Josiah Black stood just outside the elevator, his gray blue eyes narrowed on Mica as she stepped from the elevator. “Dr. Morrey has been waiting most of the morning for you. She actually expected you last night.”

“Last night I was dead to the world.” Stepping into the steel-lined hallway, she leaned into the gentle hug Josiah gave her, his arms wrapping around her as Navarro sensed, as well as scented, the stink of his arousal.

“It’s damned good to see you again, Mica.” Josiah’s tone, his whole demeanor, was one of tenderness. Something Breeds were not noted for.

Navarro didn’t growl, but it was close before she stepped back from the other Breed’s hold. He told himself he had more control than that. His fingers didn’t form fists, and he didn’t jerk her away from the other Breed.

It was all he could do to hold on to that part of his temper though.

Jealousy?

No, not jealousy, he told himself, simply a sense of possession. He hadn’t had her yet. All he’d had was that sweet taste of her, and he wanted more. And he’d have her before Josiah had the chance to even begin a seduction.

Stepping carefully between the two of them, Navarro allowed his hand to settle possessively at the small of Mica’s back before pressing her forward.

“We’ll see you later, Black,” Navarro stated dismissively as he ignored the tension that suddenly invaded Mica’s muscles.

The fact that she wasn’t pleased was impossible to miss. But he’d be damned if he cared. She had no right stepping into another Breed’s arms. Hell, no man’s arms period but his own.

That was a dangerous sign, and he knew it.

He checked his tongue again, damned confused over the fact that there were no swollen glands. He assured himself that was a good thing too. He was the last Breed that needed to find his mate.

He had too many secrets in his past to allow any woman to ever be comfortable with him, especially a woman such as Mica. She would demand the truth, and God help the lover that dared to lie to her.

“Mica. I’m off the next few days,” Josiah told her as he followed behind them. “We could have lunch or something.”

The bastard. He knew Mica was already pissed, and he was using it.

“Lunch sounds great, Josiah.” Mica stopped, ignoring Navarro’s hand on her back as she did so, and turned, and in that flashing instant Navarro felt and scented the pure terror that streaked through her, even as emergency alarms began blaring through the steel-lined, heavily secured underground medical labs.

Their senses, his and Josiah’s, had somehow failed them. Almost in slow motion his head lifted; his reflexes, sharp and precise, were still too slow.

There was only a second to throw Mica to the side as the first blast threw Josiah forward into him.

He was aware of Mica’s cry as she fell into the wall, Josiah’s shock at the feel of the blast of energy that exploded into his back.

How had Brandenmore managed to get his hands on a blaster?

That thought came as Josiah was thrown into him like a ton of bricks. He felt himself going backward as they both fought to avoid the collision, to get to Mica.

And they both failed.

They both left Mica to the savage, insane mercilessness of a man that was no longer a man.

Mica swirled around, the agony in her ribs reminiscent of the broken ankle she’d had when she was eighteen and Cassie had all but bullied her into coming into Haven.

That ride from her home to Haven had been so painful she’d cursed Cassie the whole time she was there. Just as she’d cursed her the time she and Cassie had been training in the gym at Haven and she had fallen and cracked the bone in her forearm.

Those earlier misadventures had taught her something though. Years’ worth of accident-prone missteps, and Mica was used to having to move when it hurt. She was used to walking with a broken ankle, helping a concussed Cassie through the forest days after Mica had cracked the bone in her arm because a Coyote Breed had managed to slip into Haven to target her.

Cassie had directed her through her forest, and Mica had helped her friend walk as the world had spun around her. She’d supported her when unconsciousness had nearly taken Cassie, and she had prayed enough that she still whispered her prayers through her dreams when she remembered that time in her nightmares.

This wasn’t a nightmare though. And she wasn’t in the middle of a forest with plenty of room to move around and hide. She was in the middle of a steel-lined hall, floors beneath the earth, with a madman slamming her into the wall as she tried to jerk to the side to escape him.

That didn’t keep a cry from escaping her though, or the agony from radiating through her. Even that was diluted, though, by the sheer terror of the creature growling at her ear, his saliva dribbling to the bare skin where her shirt slipped to the edge of her shoulder.

He was supposed to be dead.

Mica tried to dig her nails into the steel-lined wall the side of her face was pressed against, her breathing shallow, knees weak as from the corner of her eye she watched Navarro and Josiah struggle to their feet.

“I know you.” The creature snarled at her ear, his fingers biting into the side of her neck, ragged nails trying to tear at her flesh. “You’re not supposed to be here, whore.” The fingers of his other hand tangled in her hair, jerking her head back until she could see nothing but the twisted, enraged features of a man that was supposed to be dead.

She stared into the flickering red of his brown eyes, gasping for air as spittle dripped to her cheek. As though he couldn’t swallow, couldn’t contain the poisonous venom in his soul any longer.

“Sorry ’bout that,” she gasped. “Just give me a sec here, and I promise I’ll leave.” She couldn’t help it. The words had just slipped out as the blaring alarms echoing through the halls suddenly stopped.

The silence her words were injected into seemed to shatter with the same discordance as the sirens.

“Whore!”

She couldn’t hold back the agonizing expulsion of breath, the whimper, the pain too intense to allow enough breath to scream.

She heard a low, dangerous growl, the sound of footsteps, a curse echoing around her as the pain threatened to steal her consciousness.

“Stand down, Navarro!” Jonas’s snarl was thick, dangerous, as the feel of the heavy pressure in her ribs had tears spurting from her eyes.

Brandenmore had his arm pressing tight into the tender area, putting a horrible pressure in an area where no pressure could be tolerated.

“Jonas Wyatt.” The demented voice made the greeting sound more a curse. “You did this, didn’t you, freak? You got her here. You found out I had plans for her.”

Plans for her?

“Oh yeah,” she gasped, all but writhing in agony. “Fuckup Coyote was your baby?” The bastard Coyote that had all but broken her ribs had to have been taking someone’s orders.

“He’ll die now,” he hissed at her ear. “You got him killed.”

Oh yeah, she was going to feel guilty about that one. Next year maybe.

“She’s not going to help you, Phillip,” Jonas warned him, and Mica wanted to just laugh.

It was the pain, it was making her crazy, and Cassie wasn’t here to bitch at because of it.

“Cassie Sinclair’s self-proclaimed best friend?” Phillip’s snarl sounded like a Breed’s. “Your little princess’s favorite person, Wyatt? You’d trade your own sire for her.”

“No doubt,” Jonas drawled with a facade of amusement. “She likes me more.”

And wasn’t that the damned truth.

“Does she now?” Sardonic, manipulating, Phillip Brandenmore sounded like a monster ready to bite her head off. A chill raced up her spine as the ragged nails caressed her jugular. “Would she like you so well if she knew you’d deliberately allowed her to go home? That you’d been warned she would be targeted?”

“Too late,” Mica wheezed. “Already knew.”

God, she had to get his arm off her ribs before she blacked out for good. She could barely breathe. This was even worse than having Navarro lying over her in the back of the SUV.

Brandenmore laughed at the pain in her voice. “Did you know I was here, little girl?”

“Nightmares,” she gasped.

Brandenmore paused. “What did you say?”

Was there a lessening of the dementia in his tone? In the pressure against her ribs. Oh God, what had she said to make him think? She would surely say it again.

“You’re hurting her, Phillip, is that what you want?” Jonas asked then, his voice dropping, softening.

Those ragged nails caressed over her neck again, scraping, feeling as though they were peeling the protective layer of skin from her flesh.

“Do you have nightmares?” He was tense behind her, and so strong. His fingers were clenching in her hair, unclenching, pulling at the tender strands as her knees threatened to buckle.

His nails scraped her flesh again as she blinked against the tears.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t inhale deeply. Her ribs felt as though a dagger were wedged between them.

“Answer me!” he roared.

Mica whimpered at the pain. She couldn’t cry, she couldn’t scream. There was no breath for it, the pain screaming through her body.

“Do you have nightmares?”

“Yes,” she wheezed, her hands jerking from the wall to the powerful wrists of the creature holding her so effortlessly.

He was Phillip Brandenmore, yet he wasn’t.

God, Kita Engalls, his niece, must live in hell knowing what her uncle had become.

“What nightmares do you have?” He seemed to pause, his nails now digging into the flesh of her neck as another little whimper slipped free.

Behind Brandenmore, she could hear Navarro growling. That low, almost unconscious growl Wolf Breeds used when pushed to their last, enraged nerve.

If Bradenmore gave him so much as a single opening, then he would be dead.

“Monsters,” she answered, fighting back more tears, fighting back the fear and the panic, the knowledge that she would die if one of the Breeds didn’t figure out how to get their hands, or their weapons, on the monster holding her. “Monsters find me.”

It was the truth. That was her nightmare, a dream pulled from the bleak, horrifying night she’d spent lost in the mountains around the ranch her parents had owned in Kansas, just after Cassie and her mother had been there with Dash Sinclair.

She had had a Coyote stalking her, playing with her, assuring her that her father was dead when he hadn’t been.

Once again that fear was tearing through her sense.

Navarro. Why hadn’t he made a move yet? Why wasn’t he saving her?

“I’m the monster,” he whispered at her ear, his fingers straightening until they were wrapped around her neck too snugly for comfort.

Her eyes closed for a moment, the labored breathing finally taking its toll as she felt herself weakening.

She was clawing at his fingers, but they didn’t loosen.

“You’re hurting her, Phillip,” Jonas repeated, his voice too calm as she began to struggle, desperate to escape now.

“I want to hurt you,” he snarled at her ear.

There were too many sounds. Jonas was suddenly snarling, a snap of fury behind Phillip, Callan’s voice suddenly entering the fray as a sharp command. “Mica, stop fighting. If he kills you, his niece Kita will never forgive him.”

Kita? Kita wasn’t here. Mica had only met Brandenmore’s niece once; she was the same niece he had tried to kill when he learned she had mated with a Breed last month.

Behind her, Phillip tensed again, but his hold loosened. His fingers unclenched just enough for her to take a deep breath, to prepare herself.

And then all hell seemed to break loose.

Navarro struggled with the order Jonas gave to hold back, to wait. He could sense the insanity inside Phillip Brandenmore, the demented animal born of the Breed serum he’d injected himself with, clawing with feral rage as all semblance of his humanity crashed beneath the wave of fury.

The hunger for blood, for death and vengeance was a dark oil scent, putrid and abrasive to the senses. And it was focused entirely on Mica.

Her pain and fear reached out to Navarro, tendrils of them wrapping around his senses like a scream born of desperation.

Where the wisps of hunger and emotion born of evolving love had warmed and aroused him, this sensation tore across his senses and seemed to awaken the animal slumbering inside him to full, enraged consciousness.

It came to awareness with a suddenness he couldn’t have predicted and damn sure hadn’t expected. Clawing talons of fury raked across his senses as a furious snarl pulled his lips back from his teeth and had him crouching, preparing to spring.

He would have only one opportunity. If he failed, God forbid, if he didn’t take the monster down with that first try, then Mica would pay the cost.

“Stand down!” Jonas snapped, and a distant, almost human part of Navarro recognized and fully ignored the order.

Jonas Wyatt commanded the loyalty of the man, not whatever entity was roused to full, furious life inside him now.

It was similar to what raged inside Phillip Brandenmore, except the animal snarling inside Navarro was a natural part of his genetics, of what made him who and what he was at his core.

A Wolf Breed.

Beside him, he could feel Josiah tensing as well, signaling to Jonas that he would hold Navarro back. There would be no holding him back and they both knew it. They were wasting their time in the attempt.

Josiah might try. And he might find his blood spilling for the effort to keep Navarro from the woman.

Navarro felt her weakening. The scent of her tears shredded the finely weaved bonds that had always held the animal within him in a deep, peaceful slumber.

It hadn’t meant to awaken.

It gave its strength and its senses, but not its awareness. The calculated, finely honed instincts that were raging inside Navarro now were different, unusual. They were the animal awakening with a sudden, ravenous hunger for blood.

His lips drew back from his teeth. He felt it. A rumbling sound of fury, low and intense, and it was coming from him when it never had before. Rising from the pit of his stomach, building in his chest, and emitting a low-level sound of such fury that he would have been surprised if he weren’t so focused on the sight of Brandenmore’s fingers wrapped around Mica’s throat.

“I could kill her, Jonas,” Brandenmore said placidly, his tone so calm he could have been discussing the weather rather the life of an innocent woman.

The life of Navarro’s woman.

That thought would have shocked him ten minutes earlier. Now there was no time for shock, there was no thought of it. There was only the imperative, overwhelming need to save her.

“I hear that animal behind us,” Brandenmore chuckled at her ear. “Navarro Blaine. The liar. The deceiver. Do you know”—he caressed her neck again before wrapping his fingers around it once more—“he was created to have no Breed scent. His genetics erased to the deepest level, but for that sense of smell.” His fingers tightened. “Hearing.” Further. “Sight.” He hissed the words at her ear. “Created to identify and to assassinate any Breed, recessed or hiding. He thought he could outsmart me. That he could defeat me. I helped create him. He can’t escape me.”

Mica tensed, her breathing ragged as Josiah stepped in front of him.

Navarro was losing the last of the chains that tethered his self-control, that held back the rage rising through him with a force he could no longer control.

“Kita will never forgive you, Brandenmore. Is that what you want?” Jonas warned as though he really cared, as Navarro felt the animal rip free.

“She won’t forgive me anyway—”

Brandenmore’s fingers tightened, but the sound of Mica’s whimper of fear and pain was overshadowed by the enraged snarl that suddenly echoed through the hall.

Josiah was thrown against the wall with a force that stole the air from his lungs and left him collapsing against the floor, wheezing with the agony tearing through his diaphragm as Jonas and Callan rushed for him. They didn’t move to stop Navarro; it was too late.

In the space it had taken to make those few steps to the fallen Breed, Brandenmore was screaming in his own agony, his wrists in Navarro’s grip as Navarro moved them slowly, slowly from Mica’s flesh and took the man to his knees.

Brandenmore was screaming, the sound of his pain like a symphony of vengeance echoing through Navarro’s ears as Breeds rushed through the hall. Lawe Justice, Lion Breed, one of two that were called Jonas’s right hand, rushed for Mica as she stumbled.

“No!” The sound was primal, animalistic. Navarro threw Brandenmore, slinging him with a strength that broke the monster’s wrist with a snap and a howl of agony as he crashed into Lawe and Navarro caught Mica as she went to her knees.

She was breathing.

She was weak, fear still pounding through her, reaction and shock leaving her dazed, confused as she fought to get a bearing on what had happened and the fact that she was no longer in danger.

“I will give my last breath to keep you from harm,” he whispered at her ear as he cradled her against his chest and lifted her from the floor. “Did I not promise you this, Amaya?”

Holding her close against his chest, he watched as Jonas, Lawe and Rule struggled to hold the feral Phillip Brandenmore under control until the physician’s assistant, Cameron Lucian, could inject him with the sedative created especially for the unique imbalance destroying the man’s mind.

Once, Navarro had felt a measure of sympathy for him. Now, his gaze flickering to the woman he held in his arms, watching as she massaged the reddened, scraped flesh of her neck, he felt nothing but a killing fury.

His gaze lifted to Jonas.

“Better to let me kill him now.” Hoarse, brutally dark, his voice held the promise of violence. “You’ll save us both the trouble of my having to expend resources to do it later.”

He didn’t make promises he wouldn’t give his life to keep. He would kill Brandenmore if that damned drug he injected into himself didn’t kill him first.

A Breed hormonal concoction Brandenmore had created to cure the cancer killing him and to stop the aging of his decrepit body.

Instead, he’d created a serum that was slowly rotting his mind, destroying him, and would very soon, Navarro had heard, kill him.

“Don’t make that mistake, Navarro,” Jonas warned him. “He’s too important to allow that to happen.”

A furious snarl of denial snapped through Navarro’s teeth. “If the bastard were going to give you the secret to the serum he injected into your child, then he would have already,” he retorted. “His mind is so gone now I doubt he remembers what he took, only what he still wants.”

“Take that step, and I’ll have to kill you,” Jonas promised, and like Navarro, he didn’t make promises he didn’t intend to follow through with. “That man holds my daughter’s very life in his hands.” A grimace pulled at Jonas’s features, then, as pain seemed to explode from him, he pulled it back. The sense of the emotions raging through Jonas sent a chill racing up Navarro’s spine. “Attempt to hasten his destruction, and you will be the one that dies.”

With an imperious flick of his fingers, Jonas had Brandenmore dragged, weak and incoherent now, back toward whichever cell he was being confined within.

“Let him get loose again,” Navarro growled in deadly earnest, “I promise you, I’ll be waiting.”

Turning, he strode quickly to the turn in the hall, opposite the direction Bradenmore was being dragged, and headed toward the silent, pale Dr. Elyiana Morrey as she watched the scene.

“Take her to the examination room.” Her soft, compassionate voice held an edge of weariness, and wariness. “I have to check on Phillip . . .”

“No.” Navarro stepped in front of her before she could pass him and commit the ultimate sin of daring to make that bastard more comfortable as Mica fought to breathe, the scent of her physical pain ripping across his senses. “Mica needs you more. As do I.”

He couldn’t put it off any longer. The mating tests she ran when Breeds mated would have to be run on his and Mica’s blood now. Right now. His behavior was changing too quickly. The signs of mating heat that came with the extreme possessive moodiness were too suspicious.

The glands beneath his tongue weren’t swollen. His skin wasn’t hypersensitive, but his senses seemed to be remarkably stronger the moment he realized the bastard had put his hands on her.

He wouldn’t allow it.

Manipulative and calculating, Brandenmore had been dangerous to the Breeds before he’d ever used them as research to create his fatal brew. If he was dying now, then it was by Navarro’s own hand. Brandenmore wouldn’t allow the Breeds to ever live in peace, not as long as he was living.

The only answer left was to see him dead.