An Inconvenient Mate

Chapter Three

I was here, and I was searching, always knowing somewhere, you waited.

Wait. Why in the hell had he given in to Rule’s request and in to that so-called “head start” his mate had played for?

Dumb ass. His alpha had always said Malachi’s sense of fair play was overrated. The next morning he was beginning to believe him.

The horniness was killing him.

All he could think about was the woman. His mate.

He was supposed to be thinking about his job, not fucking her until they both collapsed in exhaustion.

He was giving her the game though.

A sensual little note beneath her door last night, written himself. “My bed was cold without you to share it. I found you love, are you certain you need more time. MM”

Would it be enough to satisfy her? If not, there was always the small gold charm he had arranged to have delivered to her. That of a single curved tooth, to match the emblem on the side of his mission suit as well as his enforcer uniform. A token of his knowledge of what she was to him. His mate. Though he knew she wouldn’t realize that until he actually had her beneath him.

Pacing the room, his dick throbbing, his tongue swollen, Malachi struggled to keep his attention on the live video feed from the conference room. The human participants were unaware of the eyes that watched and were attempting to dissect every move and every word.

It was all he could do to keep his eyes off the woman, though.

Off his mate.

She was exquisite.

So exquisitely not perfect that she had every dream he had ever dreamed of what his mate would be paling in comparison.

Breed females were perfect in every way. They were created to be just that, perfect. To mesmerize men, to lower their enemies’ guard and heighten their senses. They were created to ensure the males they focused their attention on became willing sexual slaves to their beauty and to their sexual prowess.

Isabelle Martinez was such a polar opposite to what was supposed to be his perfect match that he could only feel a surge of immeasurable pride.

He had spent the night immersed in learning all he could about the woman he knew was his mate. He should have been researching those Rule was meeting with, but he’d been unable to get past Isabelle. Or the fact that he had found his mate in this place, at this time. As Rule said, a very inconvenient mating.

His inconvenient little mate.

He grinned at the thought.

A touch so simple as the nip to her ear had cemented what he had known before she had even walked across the room. An exchange so minimal as to be nonexistent in the sharing of a drink, and the glands beneath his tongue had begun swelling with mating hormone almost immediately. The spicy taste in his mouth, the surge of lust that tightened his dick and had his body aching for her, was wearing on his self-control.

But he had known as his eyes met hers across the room, as he’d sensed a hunger that matched his own, rising inside her, what she would be to him.

Her promise to bite his chest had that particular part of his anatomy aching to feel her sharp little teeth.

And he wasn’t joking. Once he got his hands on her, he was going to fuck her for a week. Night and day. He was going to keep his cock buried so tight and so deep inside her that even the thought of releasing her would have her crying out in denial.

He’d elected to watch the meeting via live feed rather than being at the meeting. There was no way he could have kept his hands off her. No way he would have lasted through the meeting. He would have dragged her out of there within minutes and not long afterwards, she would have been screaming his name in pleasure.

That wouldn’t exactly inspire her family to give the Breeds the permission they needed to conduct a search on Navajo Nation property.

“She’s pretty.”

He’d heard Ashley enter the room, but she was at his side before he’d realized she had the time to get there.

“Thank you,” he murmured, feeling that surge of pride again.

She was pretty. So very very fucking pretty.

The compliment might have seemed lacking, but Malachi found no fault with it. The last thing he wanted was perfection or true beauty.

Pretty, though, pretty was warm and compassionate. It was filled with mercy, and with gentleness. Just as his mate was filled with it.

Everything he’d learned about her assured him that his initial perception of her was right on the money.

“She has a loyal sister and a good friend in Liza as well,” Ashley assured him. “Neither of them were needed after the meeting started. I just had lunch with them, and neither of them are willing to discuss that scent of fear she carries. They refuse to betray her.”

“But they admit she has reason to fear?” he asked her.

Ashley shrugged.

Malachi caught the movement from the corner of his eyes before turning his full attention to her.

“Let’s say, I know the reason is there,” she told him as he glared down at her. “They’re clamming up each time I mention it, but even I can sense it, just as Stygian admits to scenting it before she left the table the night before and moved across the room to you. It was just for a second, though. As though the thought of something had frightened her.”

He turned back to the screen that displayed the conference in the meeting room which was being held on the secured twenty-fifth floor that their rooms were on as well.

Isabelle sat calmly at her uncle’s side as Rule argued for permission for the Bureau of Breed Affairs to conduct an official search on Navajo land and asked for the cooperation of the Navajo Nation Council in finding the rogue Breed that Rule stated they suspected was in the area.

The truth was, they knew he was headed there, if he hadn’t already arrived. A bloodthirsty murderous Breed who had sliced a path of death and horror through the few remaining research scientists who had worked for the drug manufacturer Phillip Brandenmore before his death.

“It’s hard to promise cooperation, Commander Breaker, when we have no idea who or what this Breed is that you search for, or his genetic ties to the Nation. You’ve also shown no proof of his crimes and are unwilling to give us full disclosure of why you believe he’s here. He must have a reason for being in our territory at this time. Added to that, you have no way of identifying this rogue Breed. It’s like asking Russia to let you into their secret service files because a murderer used a knife specific to the USSR.” Ray Martinez watched Rule closely, as though already suspecting the deception Rule was practicing.

And how could they suspect it if they didn’t something to hide?

“Just as it’s difficult for us to make the request, because we don’t have the information you’re requesting, Councilman Martinez. And I assure you, the rogue we’re after has had far more time to devise ways of killing his intended victims and avoiding us, unless we find a link back to him.” Rule sighed as he stared across the table at the chief of the Navajo Nation. “I’m not asking for more than I’m willing to give, sirs. We’ll keep you informed every step of the way, but we need the freedom to conduct our investigation before he kills again. And he has every intention of killing again.”

“Who does he intend to kill? We have no Council scientists or researchers here. We have no one in the Nation who could be a target to such a man.” Orin Martinez, the Navajo spirit advisor, spoke up, his gaze a endless deep dark blue as he glanced toward the eye of the camera supposedly recording the meetings.

For the briefest moment, Malachi had a sense that this particular human was well aware of any strange electronics around him, before focusing his attention back to the Navajo leader.

Tall, broad, his graying black hair straight and long where it was tied back at his nape, Ray Martinez was a confident, powerful man for his age of sixty-five.

He was in his second four-year term as chief of the Navajo Nation, and through the six years he had guided the Nation so far, he had kept the promises he had made to solidify the Nation and ensure its prosperity.

The Nation was gaining a powerful presence in the White House as well with the Navajo senator elected into office during the last term. Jobs were coming into the counties the Navajo controlled and more native small businesses were being incorporated. Added to the lower rate of unemployment, and Ray Martinez had ensured his mark in the history books.

“And what freedom do you believe you’ll need in this investigation?” Ray crossed his arms over the fine white shirt he wore and leaned back in the comfortable chair he’d taken at the head of the conference table.

Now, this was where Rule was likely to get into a hell of a lot of trouble if he wasn’t careful.

Not that Rule was never not careful. He simply sometimes forgot that tact and politeness were essential when dealing with such men.

“We’ll need access to your Nation files to ascertain the possibility that our rogue could have formed any alliances with any of your people based on their familial ties, DNA and genetic connections as well as possible political affiliations or agendas. We don’t know what he looks like, but we have the genetic and DNA profile used in his creation as well a working knowledge of the groups he’s infiltrated over the past year. Several of which I know your people have access to as well. Our need for confidentiality requires we keep the genetic typing confidential for the time being, but the moment we’re able, I promise we’ll ensure you have that information as well.”

How did a man stand in front of his uncle and deceive so easily? Malachi wondered. Which was exactly what Rule was doing. Standing before this man as though they shared no blood and lying straight to his face.

“He’s good,” Ashley murmured as she crossed her arms loosely over her breasts as she crossed one knee over the other and watched. “We should have made popcorn for this one.” Instead, she popped the gum she was chewing.

Ashley and her love for bubble gum were almost legendary.

“There are times he’s too good,” Malachi commented as his attention moved back to the mate he’d agreed to delay taking. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, unable to keep his eyes from her and willing to drown in the fires he knew would burn between them.

Waiting to take her was a bargain he had regretted the moment he’d made it. Unfortunately, he had seen the wisdom in Rule’s request. Had he mated her, there would have been no way she would have made that meeting. And there would have been no way to convince her uncle that she wasn’t ill if the mating began as heated and fierce as he knew it would.

Hell, it was already driving him damned crazy and all he had done was drink from the glass she had drank from and nipped her cute little ear. He’d wanted to mark her. The urge had been nearly overwhelming to go ahead and sink his teeth in the base of her neck, where it curved into her shoulder.

He would have licked the little wound, but the hormone that had began swelling in the glands beneath his tongue would have already begun taking the pain from the bite. It would have entered her system at the point of the bite and made the need to have each other impossible to deny.

It was already impossible to deny. If she were there in the room with him, he would have already had her stripped, fucked and knotted.

His cock throbbed in his jeans. Thick and heavy, the iron hard flesh demanded the presence of his mate, demanded that he take her, mark her, brand her as his, no matter the obstacles.

“Damn, get your mating hormones under control there, Mal,” Ashley grimaced as she glanced back at him. “All that male lust and testosterone are about to poison me.”

“You’re not tied to that chair, Ash,” he grouched right back at her. “You can leave anytime.”

“Yeah, if I didn’t want to watch Rule weave a little bit of his magic. I just don’t want to drown in the smell of your raging hard-on while I’m doing it,” she snorted, her gaze flicking over him again before she turned back to the monitors.

The raging hard-on was about to kill him. He swore his dick had never been so hard as it had been since Isabelle had guided his hand, the glass clasped between his fingers, to allow her to sip from his drink.

Her eyes had been sultry, filled with feminine heat and hunger. He had sworn he’d seen a woman dying to taste the pleasure he could bring her, in that look. A pleasure Malachi knew would send them both racing to complete oblivion.

He forced his attention back to the monitor, forced himself to attempt to decode the expressions of the Navajo Council members as Rule attempted to convince them to give him what he wanted without restraint.

It wasn’t working well at the moment because these were men who had something to hide. Something they feared the Breeds learning.

The argument raged between Ray Martinez and Rule. The chief refused to listen, just as Rule refused to give up.

“Young man, you seem to have a problem accepting the word ‘no.’” Ray stared back at Rule implacably as the Breed lowered his brows and met his gaze.

Why the three Martinez men hadn’t yet figured out their DNA ran strong and deep in the commander, Malachi didn’t know. The resemblance to the Martinez family was damned strong, but the pure stubbornness and refusal to accept denial was identical.

“There is no disrespect meant to you or to the people of the Navajo Nation, sir,” Rule assured him as he stared back at him from where on the other end of the conference table. He appeared at ease, relaxed and confident while the Martinez males were becoming irritated and weren’t bothering to hide it. “The situation is simply too delicate and of too much importance not to make you aware of every aspect of the consequences if this rogue isn’t found.”

Ray grunted at that. “You say you have a rogue, yet you have no name, no identification, nor do you have, according to you, any idea who this rogue is, or exactly where he could be hiding on Navajo land. All you have is a genetic profile, that you refuse to share with the Council, or without our own genetic experts. Yet you expect me to give you unprecedented entrance into the records of our people and their ancestors in your search? Am I missing anything?”

“That about sums it up, sir.”

Malachi frowned at the screen, his attention held by the chief of the Navajo Nation and a subtle look of secretive knowledge that suddenly flashed between him and his father.

The look was so subtle he almost missed it. If he hadn’t been watching for it, hadn’t kept his gaze locked on him rather than Rule as he spoke, then he would have missed it.

Malachi sat down in the chair facing the three screens and began to watch them. Forcing himself to ignore his mate, which was one of the hardest things he had ever done, he concentrated instead on the three Martinez men. Ray and Terran Martinez, the two brothers, were careful not to look at each other at all. But Ray was unable to keep from glancing at his father, Orin, the Nation’s medicine man and spiritual advisor. And the look they exchanged, despite the brevity of it, was filled with concern.

His hard-on was still there. The hunger for his mate was still there. But the training for exactly what he was doing was rising to the fore. He was a collaborative interrogator. At least, that was what they called him at the labs.

There were the interrogators, who questioned suspects and persons of interest. Then there were the interrogation collaborators, trained to watch the interrogation process and pick up lies, anomalies and clues.

Public relations meant more than just speaking to the public or preparing speeches to reduce the threat of propaganda against the Breeds, or to minimize it or better yet, spin their own version of lies. It was watching, gauging expressions and atmospheres and separating the lies from the truth. It was catching the small, subtle looks and shifts of muscles bunching beneath clothing designed to hide such reactions.

Malachi’s specialty was public relations and propaganda warfare among Breeds. A vital area of warfare within the many Breed labs that had once existed. After all, someone had to know how to keep the packs and prides and various personalities at one another’s throats rather than giving them the chance to collaborate and escape.

It had been his and his trainers’ jobs to filter through the information that came in from many different sources within and outside the labs, and use it to sabotage escape or rescue attempts, as well as gathering intel concerning knowledge of the Breeds.

It was a gift he was created to have, and one he excelled at. That gift had also helped him and his trainers to plant the intel in the right places to ensure that groups that would be sympathetic to the Breeds would learn of them and stage their rescues.

Protected in Russia, far enough away from the mainstream of the other labs within the Genetics Council network, Malachi, two other Coyotes and their trainers had pushed along the rumors and intel that had helped investigative reporters learn of the Breeds. That information, begun even before Malachi’s creation, had eventually led the right people to the right information and had ensured the world learned of the horrors they suffered.

Three generations had gone into quietly ensuring the survival of the Breeds. There had been no way to do this quickly. There had been no way of ensuring public opinion would sway to the side of the Breeds unless that information came with the truth of the horrors they had lived through.

“You are asking more than our people would be willing to give you. Genetic and DNA profiles are strictly confidential. Would you give out your enforcers’ identifications so easily, Commander?”

“To you, I would.” Rule nodded with an air of sincerity.

“Bullshit,” Ashley muttered. “He’d gnaw off his own arm first.”

Malachi grunted at the comment as he kept his attention on the monitors.

“It’s the only way we have of identifying who this Breed could be searching for,” Rule stated quietly. “Perhaps the only way of finding him. I believe he’ll seek out those he considers ‘relatives.’ He may even enlist their help.”

The chief shook his head “no,” which was no more than Rule had expected, Malachi knew. The elaborate deception the Breeds were a part of in this meeting could backfire on them, if the information they had was wrong.

Malachi didn’t believe it was, though. Gideon was searching for the Bengal male and two human girls, one of them being Christine Roberts. Her own mother had revealed that her daughter had mentioned a friend named Terran who was willing to help her. And only Terran Martinez would have given a damn at the time.

He had been in the area at the same time the Roberts girl had come up missing. Just as he was suspected to be aware when the bengal Judd and the human girl Fawn had been rescued.

Unfortunately, in the two days they had been in Window Rock, they had found nothing. Not even a hint that Gideon or the Bengal Breed Judd and the two young women who had escaped further research were in the area. He glanced from the chief and the spiritual advisor back to his mate, Isabelle.

She was watching the proceedings with a blank expression, neither eyes nor face showing emotion. Every time the Breed commander spoke, she made a note. She never looked at her uncle, her grandfather, Orin, or her father, Terran.

She was watching Commander Breaker closely with that bland expression. Each time he petitioned for allowances in the investigation and was turned down, she watched him very closely.

What was she looking for?

“She’s as good as you are,” Ashley commented as he kept his gaze on the screen. “She hasn’t shown so much as a hint of emotion or knowledge. I wonder what her scent is at the moment.”

“Hmmm.” His mate.

Pride enveloped him. Whatever her position was with her uncle, she was obviously very very good at it.

Sitting next to Terran Martinez was Isabelle’s friend Liza. As Terran’s legal assistant she made certain the files he needed were always available, and she began doing it with an efficient ease.

She seemed no more than reasonably concerned about the subject, and unaware of whatever secrets the Martinez men were hiding.

“What are they hiding?” Ashley wondered aloud. “Shouldn’t they know by now that we’ll figure out they’re lying, Malachi? I mean really, what’s the point?”

Malachi didn’t comment. He didn’t take his attention from the meeting or those attending it. Ray Martinez would have been far better off to have simply omitted the genetic typing from the registry they kept, if they felt it would endanger them, and allowed the Breeds to go through the rest. That would have allayed suspicion. This way, they were only cementing it, despite their protestations of the people’s right to genetic privacy.

Whatever it was, they were protesting in vain, Malachi knew. Rule Breaker and Lawe Justice hadn’t achieved their ranks by giving up easily.

Keeping his mate out of harm’s way would be easy enough, though. If she knew anything, she would have betrayed herself, as the chief and his advisor had earlier. She had her suspicions, that was obvious, but her reaction hadn’t been enough that he felt the need to appraise Rule of it. There was no sense dragging her into the battles that were beginning to be formed.

She was safe. And tonight, she would be his. He would make damned sure she wasn’t dragged into it any further than her suspicions had already placed her.

He had waited on her for far too long. He had dreamed of her far too many nights to risk losing her because of a matter the two parties should have been cooperating on.

He had ached too deeply for her. Always knowing she awaited him, always knowing she was out there somewhere, perhaps even as lost within the darkness as he was. Looking into the stars and wondering when the loneliness would end.

As he stood outside her room at dawn, inhaling the scent of the candles and finding her unique scent within it, he’d felt something in his chest tighten painfully. Because that scent of fear was still there. Whether it be nightmares or memories, there was something his mate feared. That fear was something he had to take out of her life. He simply would not allow it to be a part of her life any longer.

She was his now, just as he was hers.

And tonight, he would ensure that nothing, or no one, ever had the chance to destroy it.