Breeds 07 Megan's Mark

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and pray he could help her. The world wasn't a playground filled with laughter and games. At least,
his world wasn't. It was bathed in blood and cruelty and only the strongest survived. She was being
thrown into the middle of his world for some reason he couldn't fathom. He couldn't protect her from
that. He could only guide her through it.
"She's a warrior." The old man, her grandfather, spoke behind him.
"She's a woman," the father snapped furiously. "Darnmit, Lance, what the hell is going on?"
"She's crazy, is what's going on," Lance argued. "She drove right into a murder scene yesterday
afternoon with me screaming at her to back off. The woman is looking for trouble. This time, it found
her."
"She searches for justice_" Joseph murmured.
And they were all searching for a way to protect her. Their need to shelter her was slowly smothering
her. Braden could feel it, could see it in her face. She needed to fight, and now she had no choice but
to do just that.
"No." He turned to face them all. "She's a fighter and a survivor and if she's going to suivive this in
any way, then you'll have to let her fight.
Until we find out why the Genetics Council marked her, we have to let her fight, or you'll all lose
her."
Silence, waves of fury, confusion and one old man's knowledge seemed to flow around him. He met
the sharp, ages-old gaze of the old Navajo who stared back at him, his graying braids framing his
square, stark expression.
"She is a warrior," the old man said, raising his head in pride. "But beware, my young Lion, she is
also a woman. And that is most often every male's greatest weakness. Even your own."
How the old man knew who and what he was, Braden didn't know and he didn't care. Now, as earlier,
confusion swamped him. The Breeds, except for a very select few, had no children. No mothers, no
fathers, uncles or cousins.
They were created in a Lab, trained rather than raised, and now fought daily for survival in a world
that wasn't certain exactly what to do with this new species.
Braden had never experienced the emotion, the sheer protective fury and determination to protect
one's family.
He could easily see the three men slowly smothering the woman's fighting spirit with their love.
"You'd better come up with a plan before she gets back down here." Lance hissed as he stared at his
uncle and grandfather. "I'm not firing her. She'll never forgive me. Besides, she just ignores me when I
try."
"I told you to do that three months ago," David, the father, snarled furiously. "The very day he"-he
jerked his thumb at the old man-"heard her name on the winds. "But no, wait, Uncle_" he mocked the
younger man.
"Don't hurt her. She'll leave Broken Butte.' "
"Or shoot me," Lance snapped. "Dammit, Uncle, she's had three offers from the larger cities but she
stays here instead. Push her too far and she'll leave."
"I won't allow it."
"You cannot stop it, my son_" the old man said.
"Bloody hell, she's going to find trouble no matter where she goes_" Lance argued.
Braden cocked his head, watching as the three argued. How interesting. Personally, he thought it was
a bit delayed and definitely the wrong time for accusations, but interesting all the same.
The three males were obviously well used to arguing over how best to protect a woman who wanted
nothing more than to be who she was, to fight as she was needed. It defied logic. Women were as
fierce and often less merciful than any man. They were excellent fighters when they cared for the
battle they were engaged in or for those they fought for. And Megan was all woman. In that moment,
he decided, she was also his woman.
Chapter Four
Megan was in no better mood the next morning than she had been the night before when Braden and
Lance dragged their sorry butts into her guest rooms to sleep. The dead bodies had been cleared out
of her house by ill-tempered Feline Breeds, one of which was a scary, silver-eyed son of Satan she
was really glad didn't stick around long.
Her father and grandfather had finally left around midnight, under protest. Braden and Lance had
stayed, which meant sleep had been next to impossible knowing that the object of her arousal was so
close. She had ached for his touch, her skin so sensitive that even the sheets were an irritation against
it.
Now, with the breakfast dishes cleared away and coffee sustaining her, Megan stared at Lance and
Braden. Fighting this wasn't going to work, and she knew it. As much as she hated it, she needed
Braden in this fight.
She glanced over at him, aware that he was watching her closely, his gaze hooded, his body tense.
Was he aroused as well? Was he tormented by the same desire she was? One as confusing as it was
strong?
She gave herself a mental shake before confronting both men.
"Now what?" She leaned against the counter and sipped at her coffee as they stared back at her.
Lance got to his feet with a sigh. "I have to get back to the office." The coward. He wasn't even going
to hang around for whatever fireworks he expected to result from their discussion. "You're off today.
I'll see both of you in the office in the morning_"
"No. She's off indefinitely." Braden spoke as though his word were law. Her eyes narrowed at the
tone, her lips flattening in irritation as she glared back at him.
"That is my job," she snapped. "I can't just lie around_"
"Your job is to stay alive." He walked over to the coffeepot to refill his cup. Megan made certain she
moved far enough away to keep from so much as brushing against him. "We'll get organized and see if
we can figure out what the hell is going on. You're the link_" The look he gave her when he turned
back was hard, cold. "That means you have the answers."
Which made sense. But that didn't mean she had to like it.
She glanced at Lance then, noting the tension in his muscular body, the merciless anger that glittered in
his blue eyes. Damn, she was glad she wasn't feeling that. She couldn't have handled it. It destroyed
her, the fear and worry that filled her family because of the job she had fought for so desperately and
the weakness the empathy caused within her.
"Well." She breathed out roughly, containing the shiver that worked up her spine. "So much for our
complaints that Broken Butte is too quiet."
Lance snorted at that.
"Those are your complaints, Meg. Not mine. I had enough excitement when I worked in Chicago," he
snapped.
He was angry. Really angry this time. She stared at his closed expression, the haunted pain in his
eyes, and felt her chest tighten.
"I'm sorry." She stared back at him directly, hating the fact that he was worried enough about her to be
so furious.
"Darnmit, Meg, I don't blame you." He reached out, his arm looping around her shoulders as he pulled
her close for a brief, hard embrace.
"Check in on schedule," he told her roughly then. "And watch your butt."
She hugged him back. Hard. Then watched as he left the house. For some unexplained and upsetting
reason, his touch rattled her. As though her body was faintly protesting, uncomfortable with the once
comforting embrace of the cousin who was more like a big brother.
She listened until the sound of his Raider faded into the distance, leaving a deafening, tension-filled
silence between her and the Feline watching her closely. She turned to look at him, seeing the curious
gleam in his eyes, the quizzical look on his face.
"What?' she asked with mock impatience, controlling her breathing, mainly to control the abrasion of
her sensitive nipples against her lace bra. What the hell was wrong with her? She had never been
aroused by so little in her life.
He inhaled slowly. What the hell was he sniffing for?
"Nothing." He finally shook his head slowly. "Get ready. I want to make a trip back out to the gully to
look around and I want you to stick close. From now on, baby, just call me your shadow."
"Puss in Boots." She glanced at the boots. The man had some fine legs in between, too. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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