Blood Mate: The Project Rebellion, Book 2 (10 page)

A snarl curled her lips. Pinning him with a knee in the middle of his back, she grabbed his hair and yanked his head up. His face was splattered with blood, his eyes wide and panicked as he looked up at her.

“Remember this.” Her claws tickled his throat, her voice little more than a low hiss. “Whenever you think you’ve got the balls to take me on again, remember this. Next time I won’t let you off so easy. I’ll tear your fucking throat out and feed your body to the goddamn crows.”

Chapter Seven

The base lay below them, a festering ulcer on the grubby sands of the desert. Sanders narrowed his eyes, squinting to get a better view across the distance. They couldn’t get any closer. Miles of sandy scrubland separated the base from the nearest foothills where he and Nic lurked. The two wolves watching. Waiting. The advance guard for the rest of the pack.

“Where do you think they’ve got him?”

There was no need to whisper but Nic kept her voice low all the same. Both wolves had reverted to human form so they could talk, squatting naked in the dirt for the moment. It was coming up to full moon, so control of the change was easier for them both. Near enough that they could shift and talk rather than play a game of charades to work out more complex ideas than “run this way” or “danger”. Their wolf instincts were good—better than good—and allowed them to operate seamlessly as a pack, but sometimes you needed human vocal chords to get over the finer points in conversation.

“Not a clue.”

Sanders shrugged and leaned on the rock in front of him. It was still warm from the sun, the heat leeching through his skin. It would drop cold soon, and the more heat he could get, the better.

 
“Not in the barracks, that’s for sure. They pretty much trashed them when they took us in.”

Nic nodded, a rumble in the back of her throat. Armed commandos and explosives—never a good combination in an enclosed space, then a trip to the land of the hug-me jackets with daily silver nitrate injections, just for kicks and giggles.

“I’d say one of the labs.” Sanders shuddered. “Dissection maybe. No way that Blood didn’t figure out he could part shift. They’ll want to know how he’s managing it.”

“Fuck…”

Nic moved closer and Sanders lifted his arm, offering her the comfort of an embrace. The pack was very tactile, but he was the only one Nic trusted implicitly. He didn’t question. Like him, Nic had her secrets.

 
She burrowed closer against his side, tucking herself in between him and the rock, trying to grab some of the fleeing warmth. They’d have to revert to fur soon. Chills crept over Sanders’s skin as the last rays of sunlight on the horizon disappeared. Twilight crept over the landscape to steal all the color and cast a blanket of cold.

“Do you think he was right? That the Blood is his mate?” Nic’s voice was soft, the anger she usually carried around with her gone, and the question little more than a wistful note on the air. A wistful note he could identify with, the same hopes resonating in his soul. That somewhere out there was his own soul mate. A male made just for him, who would accept him for who he was without prejudice. He snorted to himself. He hadn’t found that when he was human, so why did he think he was going to find it now fate had screwed him over?

“We have to hope so. At least then he has someone on his side in there. Kinda…at least until we get there.” Surely the mate-bond would be enough to override the hate between Bloods and Lycans? Love conquered all, right? They had to hope so, or the LT was in there on his own. Otherwise known as up shit creek without a paddle. Sanders had been there. It wasn’t fun.

“I… I’d like a mate.”

He blinked and turned his head to look at Nic. She was rested with her back against the rock, head next to his shoulder and her eyes closed.

“You would? I thought you were Miss
I don’t need a man?”

She wrinkled her nose, her eyes still shut so he couldn’t see their expression. But her voice rang with emotion. “Don’t you know anything about women? When we say
I’m fine,
it doesn’t mean that at all.”

Sanders lifted his eyebrow. “And you wonder why I prefer men?”

She chuckled. “Fuck no. What’s not to like about men?”

He hugged her closer, resting his head against hers for a second. Her easy acceptance of him was a balm to his soul, a plaster over the wound that the man he wanted would never return his affections. She leaned into him, and the pair drew strength from each other for a moment.

“I don’t
need
one, but I’d like one,” Nic admitted. “A mate that is. Someone to share things with. Someone to be there, no matter what. Did you see the way Jack and Lilly looked at each other? Like there was nothing else in the world but each other.” She sighed wistfully. “I want that. Thought I’d found it as well. But…”

Sanders lifted his head. This was news.

“Thought you’d found what? Your mate? Who?”

She opened her eyes, looked at him directly and let him see the pain and loneliness in her soul under all the anger.

“Jack.”

The single word was a whisper in the air and Sanders’s heart shattered for her. To be in love with someone and not have them notice you even existed was bad enough. To watch them find their mate would be soul destroying.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He turned and dragged her closer, holding her in his arms as her tears started to fall. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

Trouble was he had no clue how to fulfill that promise.

An hour after the fight with Brent, Toni lay on her bed with her forearm over her eyes to block out any residual light, and tried to sleep. After the change, sunlight was too bright and even a little scrap of light, like the power light from an electrical device, was enough to light the room up like midday.

Ugh. Blood claw marks hurt like a bitch. Thin lines of fire where Brent had sliced her—even though the wounds were already closed and healing—carved patterns of pain over her skin. Another score for being a vamp chick. Quick and complete healing, and no matter what kind of crap she got in the wounds, her body would just expel it. She’d cleaned the deep slices in the shower just in case, sloughing the blood off with the sand and sweat. Call it force of habit. Besides, she didn’t know where Brent had been. She might catch something worse than assholishness.

She turned over. Stifled the groan. Every part of her body felt like she’d been worked over with a baseball bat. It wasn’t just the fight with Brent—she should have been able to suck that up and come back kicking—but a bone deep tiredness that dragged at every cell in her body. A new tiredness. Great, the wolves got snazzy new abilities—she got fucking exhaustion and medical technicians ignoring her. Sighing, she turned to face the wall again but sleep danced just out of reach. Evading her. Taunting her.

Fucker.

Sounds in the corridor got her attention. Soft shuffles and the slide of a body being moved. She’d wondered how long it would take Brent’s team to come and fetch him. About damn time—she was fed up hearing him sniffle and whine out in the corridor. Really, she should go out there and beat the shit out of them. Prove the point. But, despite the fact that she couldn’t sleep, she couldn’t be bothered to move. Not for them. She’d have to hand their asses to them on a plate another time.

Closing her eyes, she commanded every muscle in her body to relax. The sheets around her rustled as she went limp. She slowed her breathing, brought her heart rate down and waited for sleep to claim her.

The moment her thoughts started to slip into the familiar grey cotton-wool of the land of nod though, she jerked awake, her instincts on high alert. Someone was in the room with her. She sprang into motion, crouched on the bed with her claws extended, prepared to defend herself from Brent’s bully boys. Expecting them to stream into the room, the darkness filled with the flash of claws and fangs.

She was alone. Totally alone.
 

Great, now she was going fucking nuts.

Grumbling, she lay back down, pulled the blankets over herself in defiance and closed her eyes. She’d been on her feet for god knows how long. She
needed
sleep. Even in her altered state she couldn’t operate without any sleep at all. That way lay madness, and hallucinations that the Project had developed a new serum that turned subjects into purple dinosaurs.

This time she almost made it, her breathing deepening and her brain almost shut down, before something brushed over her arm.

“Gnnnfff…kk?”

She shot upright, rubbing her forearm. Her heart pounded, almost up to human levels but not through fear. Instead heat and awareness filled her in equal amounts. She could have sworn she felt fur brushing over her skin. Foster’s fur, even though she hadn’t seen him changed. But he lingered in her mind and her body responded as though she was in the back of the truck with him between her thighs again.

What the fuck…
Lycans didn’t have any mental powers she was aware of, so how was he still affecting her hours later? Then it happened again. Her skin prickled, the tiny hairs on the back of her arms rising as something that wasn’t there, something unseen, brushed all over her from top to toe. Something that felt an awful lot like fur and with it came the deep, male scent that had captivated her in the truck.

Annoyance surging through her, she flung the covers off and rolled to her feet. She yanked a long sleeve shirt and combats on over the tank and shorts she slept in, then walked into her boots en-route to the door. Damn mutt wouldn’t get out of her head, would he? She’d teach him to fuck about with her mind.

The barracks were silent but she could feel the occupants within as she passed the closed doors in the corridor. Some rooms were empty, their owners out on duty, but the rest knew she was
 
there and not one of them would face her.

She pushed the door open and stepped out into the darkness. The chill of night had descended, the almost-full moon presiding over all of creation and lighting up the base like a spotlight for her. But she didn’t need the light to show her the way though, and headed down the path toward the labs.

It didn’t take her long to reach the lab where they’d dropped Foster. They weren’t dark and deserted, despite the hour. Science, like the army, never slept. There were experiments to run, data to collect and subjects to look after, no matter the hour. Skulking in the shadows of the building opposite, Toni watched the lab and analyzed the scents around it.

There was the oil and gas from the truck where it had parked, Wilson’s scent, the blood and cordite wrapped around it proof that he’d just come from the battlefield. The two doctors… She wrinkled her nose at those smells, ignoring them in favor of Foster’s.

It hit her like a punch to the gut. A deep, wildness that hijacked her senses and took them on a joyride. Heat rolled over her skin again, a shiver running through her as she recalled his lips on hers, the way his body felt under her—

With a snarl, she snapped herself out of the memory. Fuck it, this
had
to stop. She couldn’t go around mooning over a damn mutt and losing focus all the time. Not with Brent out for blood. Even though she’d beaten him this time, at some point all that rage would build up and he’d try again. If she was half-spaced daydreaming about a sexy as hell Lycan, Brent would tear her heart right out of her chest.

Shoving thoughts of desire to the back of her mind, she focused on the scents.

Most were hours old and fading. Apart from Foster’s. His was sharp and fresh. New. She narrowed her eyes and used the cover of a cloud passing over the moon to flit between the buildings at speed. Plastering herself flat to the wall, she scanned up and down the road. No guards had seen her. They shouldn’t be paying too much attention to what was going on in camp but one never knew. All it would take was for one to look the wrong way at the wrong time and wonder what the hell a Blood was doing around the Lycan labs.

She crept along the wall, all senses on alert as she checked out the double doors and a loading door farther down. This one had been used a lot, myriad scents assaulting her. She stopped and took a deep breath. Dragged the air over her tongue and started to sort them. No, she’d been wrong. Foster’s scent from when they’d dropped him off earlier had faded. The reason it was so strong was because there was a second scent trail.

They’d moved him.

Why?

Dread curled insidious fingers deep into her gut. God, please…they hadn’t? Her heart thudding against her ribcage, she set off on the scent trail. The wolf was smart. He wouldn’t have caved and given Fritz what he wanted so quickly.

Surely?

Fear for him lent wings to her heels. What if he hadn’t? What if Fritz’s guards had gotten too heavy-handed when questioning him? She knew Lycans were hardy, but just how hardy? As hardy as she was? Less? Fuck. Stupid mutt should’ve just pretended to be unconscious.

She followed the trail through the camp, through the barracks and past the motor pool to the hangars at the far reaches. Gravel crunched underfoot, a fleeting auditory footnote to mark her journey through the night. No need to worry about the guards—not back there—and she was moving too fast for them to see her in the dark anyway.

The scent led to the biggest hangar at the back. Toni skirted the building, her eyes wide and senses on alert. Automatically she kicked into professional mode, assessing the threat level as she worked her way nearer.