Bengal's Heart

◆ CHAPTER 9 ◆

Cassa was silent as Cabal carried her to the bed, tucked her in, then went to shower. She stared up at the ceiling for long moments, a frown on her face as she fought to work through her own feelings, her own emotions.

The sex was good. It was damned good. It was like flying, free-falling. But when it was over, it left a hollow little ache inside her chest that she couldn’t escape from.

Sighing heavily, she moved from the bed. What the hell did he expect her to do? Spend all her time in bed? She had work to do, and it was obvious she had her job cut out for her.

If the killer had contacted her, there was always the chance that he had, or could, contact another reporter. She needed to get her facts together and find the answers she was looking for if she was going to have her story ready.

After pulling on her robe, she moved to the laptop and the flash chip of information she’d hidden in her laptop bag. She inserted the small chip and pulled up the information, went over it once again.

Six men were dead, all with ties to Phillip Brandenmore and Horace Engalls, owners of the pharmaceutical and research company currently under indictment for illegal Breed research, conspiracy to murder and conspiracy to buy stolen medical and personnel files of unnamed Breeds. The two men shared a hunting cabin in the mountains of the Hawk’s Nest-Gauley Bridge area.

Cassa had confirmed Brandenmore and Engalls’s ties to the victims over the past weeks, after the anonymous emails had begun coming through with their bloody pictures attached.

Dr. Ryan Damron. Phillip Brandenmore’s father had paid Damron’s way through college and medical school. The forensic pathologist had at one time been under scrutiny for having worked with the Genetics Council that created the Breeds. He had been charged with performing autopsies on live Breeds. He had escaped Breed justice though, just as so many had during those first trials.

Officer Aaron Washington had been a New York City police officer of little rank or notoriety. His connection to Brandenmore and Engalls stemmed from off-duty work he had once done as a security guard for the pharmaceutical labs just outside New York City.

Attorney Elam March. He had been one of Brandenmore’s best friends in college.

The former Glen Ferris mayor David Banks had grown up in the area with Brandenmore and was known to have frequented Brandenmore’s mountain cabin often.

And finally, H. R. Alonzo, the great-grandson of one of the founders of the Genetics Council. He spoke out often against the Breeds and contributed heavily to organizations rumored to often strike out violently against them. There was little connection between him and the pharmaceutical and research giants though.

Staring at the screen of her laptop, Cassa frowned and hit another button, pulling up an outdated, grainy photograph that had been included in one of the files her anonymous source had sent her.

There was no identifying all the men in the picture, though Cassa had been able to recognize Brandenmore and Engalls, and pinpoint the six men that had been killed in the past months.

Six down and six to go, she thought as she squinted at the picture and tried to make out facial features of the men she couldn’t identify. She’d run the picture through several identity programs, and had a list of names as long as her arm from them. The picture quality was just too damned poor to do anything with. But there was one face that kept niggling at her with its near familiarity. She could never pin down what bothered her though.

Sighing, she closed the files, backed them up and stored the small chip of information in a protective case before hiding it in her purse as she heard the shower shut off.

She wasn’t a fresh reporter with no experience backing her, she thought mockingly. She knew better than to allow Cabal to catch her with that chip. Every piece of information she had stayed backed up and as secure as she could make it. She had learned that lesson early in her career, and she made certain it was a habit she adhered to.

The ties the six men had to Phillip Brandenmore and his brother-in-law Horace Engalls placed the two men right in the forefront of early Breed killings, during the years before the Breeds were public knowledge, when they were shadows sliding on the outskirts of human knowledge.

There were accusations against the two pharmaceutical and research giants, that they had experimented on captured Breeds in the past years and used their physiology to come up with several revolutionary drugs. The primary drug in question was one now being used with a high success rate in the fight against cancer.

If it was proven that the two men had been involved in those early activities, it could mean a trial involving Breed Law—namely, the law that called for the punishment of death against those who experimented on, or contributed to the deaths of, Breeds after the establishment of the laws.

Breed Law was a complex set of rules and regulations adopted by the U.S. and several other countries to allow the Breeds a measure of autonomy, to police themselves and their communities, as well as protection against the factions and societies intent on destroying them.

So far, Breed Law hadn’t been used to kill, at least not that anyone knew. There were rumors that the Bureau of Breed Affairs, or namely its director, Jonas Wyatt, exercised Breed Law outside the dictates of a public trial.

Cassa didn’t doubt it, but neither could she blame him, in most cases. When compared to the world population of humans, Breeds were few. Little more than a thousand at the last count, with less than a half dozen children. Without Breed Law they would have been decimated by now.

Brandenmore and Engalls were already close to facing Breed Law. If evidence showed they had indeed conspired to steal information, were behind the drugging of Dr. Elyiana Morrey, and conspired to kill several Breeds within Sanctuary, then the panel convening to weigh the evidence could rule that they go to trial under that complex set of laws. And that they could be put to death without appeal or a waiting period.

So far, that extreme measure hadn’t been practiced on any of the Breeds’ enemies that had been put on trial, but Cassa knew for a fact that it was being considered now.

Cassa could imagine the protests against the Breeds, should that happen. Already Brandenmore and Engalls were being defended by many of the press, as well as many political figures. Enacting an execution based on Breed Law could do more harm than good. But not doing so could send just as destructive a message to others.

Either way this went, the damage that the Breed society faced would be harsh. Cassa ached with that knowledge. The Breeds had endured hell in ways most men and women couldn’t comprehend. She would hate to see their independence and freedom being limited any more than they already were, because of the evil of two men.

Pacing her room, she moved to the wide windows that looked out over the Gauley River. Frowning down at the winter gray choppy water stretching out below her, Cassa let herself remember, just for a second, the night she had realized the horrors the Breeds had actually faced.

In a little-known valley in Germany, in the middle of a storm, watching blood mix with mud and pour over the landscape, she remembered the battle to free the Breeds in that hidden lab.

The plans put in place to rescue that lab had been precise. There should have been no lives lost. But the Council soldiers and Coyotes had been waiting for the rescue forces. They had been warned that they were coming, from which direction, how many and the strength of their weapons.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the memories, but they refused to dim. They refused to give her any peace. She had been the reason her husband had been allowed on that team. The trust the Breeds had placed in her had been extended to Douglas.

And her husband had betrayed her.

She remembered the blood and the death. The image flashed through her mind of the flight through the facility to the underground pit where the Bengals were being killed.

Douglas hadn’t let go of that camera even once. He had tracked every move, recorded it. Through the mic he’d worn at his cheek, he’d recorded his observations, and in his voice she’d heard his excitement and his pleasure.

“There’s no saving this batch of the bloody bastards,” he’d commented as they raced through steel-lined halls. “We can hear their screams even from here. The blood has to be ankle-deep in that pit if the reports are anything to go by. Hopefully there’ll be a way to get a shot.”

He’d wanted to see the blood, the death. The camera had been his proof that he’d ensured their deaths, as well as his own private adventure in the making.

She’d been desperate to save lives. He’d been desperate to watch and record the deaths.

She rubbed at her arms to chase away the chill that invaded her. Her husband had died that night, by Cabal’s hand. But so many Breeds, as well as the humans fighting to rescue them, had died as well. Within the heavily fortressed compound, the Breeds the scientists suspected would turn against them once the rescue began had been placed within a pit of churning blades.

Two dozen. Men and women that Cabal had led. His pride. His people. His family.

They had died. All except him, and his rage had been like a living flame within his eyes as he pushed past the slowly opening panel Cassa had managed to release.

Cassa had known the second she stared into Douglas’s eyes in that secured room that he had betrayed her and the Breeds. It had been there in his eyes, in the smirk at his lips and the knowledge he could no longer hide, that he intended to benefit from the blood shed that day.

How had she not known? How had he managed to fool her all those months that they were working with the Breeds?

A chill raced down her spine again, the cold invading her as she realized that this was why Cabal held himself from her. He’d always blamed her for those deaths. He’d never forgiven her, and she couldn’t blame him.

Why hadn’t she thought of that before she had allowed him to touch her? What had made her think that mating heat could ever dim his hatred over those deaths?

She’d been warned she couldn’t escape the past much longer. The anonymous killer in the first email he had sent of the first murder had said as much: I know who you are. I know who you were. The past is never dead, my friend, it now haunts not just the prey, but the hunter as well. Beware you don’t become the hunted as well.

The words were impossible to forget, just as it was impossible to forget the pictures that had come in that first email. Dr. Ryan Damron, his expression contorted into lines of horror, his neck torn out, the ragged, bloody wounds attesting to his pain-filled death. Along with the pictures of the victim were the pictures of the dark figures removing him.

Two days later it was reported that Dr. Damron had died in a fiery crash as his vehicle plunged down the cliffs outside his California home.

More pictures, more messages, more assurances of death had come in over the months. Someone was working steadily, quickly to take out what he called the Deadly Dozen.

They were hunters who had tracked escaped Breeds and turned them over to Phillip Brandenmore for research, or returned them to the labs. At least, those that had lived through the hunts.

“Such morose thoughts reflected on such a pretty face.”

Cassa swung around, her heart tripping, pausing before racing in sudden fear and arousal as she found Cabal standing just inside the room, closing the bathroom door behind him.

How had he managed to slip up on her so easily? How had she not heard him?

Breed stealth, she thought. It was becoming legendary.

“I don’t recall my thoughts being very important to you at any other time,” she snapped, as she drew the belt of her robe tighter.

Suddenly, she felt underdressed, exposed to him. They’d had sex repeatedly, but being naked in front of him, or even half-clothed now, suddenly made her uncomfortable.

“You didn’t check the fine print in Breed Law.” His lips quirked, a sexy male smirk in his sun-darkened face as mockery reflected in his eyes. “You should be more careful in the future. I’m certain that particular stipulation is there.”

“I’ll be certain to do that and lodge my complaint at the same time,” she bit out, as her arms tightened across her swelling breasts. “I believe precedence for separations has already been established by the Coyote Breed alpha and his mate. I could sue for my own.”

He shook his head, the silken strands of his gold and black hair brushing against his shoulders. Her fingers itched to tunnel into the mass of oddly striped hair. To clench and pull, and drag his lips down to her own.

She swore she could taste him in her mouth. A taste of heated spice, a need, a hunger she fought to hide from.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” he warned her, his voice dangerously soft now. “You’d not get out of bed for months, Cassa. I’d make certain of it. And I’d make certain there was no thought of separation once you did manage to actually rejoin the human race.”

She had no doubt she wouldn’t protest it either, she thought furiously. She’d probably help him keep her in that damned bed, if the sudden flurry of aroused sensations rushing through her body was any indication. He wasn’t helping matters by strutting around naked, and aroused.

Her gaze flickered to his erection before jerking back to his shoulders and the bite mark there. The mark she had left, similar to the one he had left on her shoulder.

Damn, he was making her as wild as he was.

“Come here,” he suddenly growled. “If you want to stare at me with those hungry eyes, then come to me, Cassa. Let me sate you.”

Did she look like a fool? On second thought, she didn’t want to answer that question.

“I think I prefer to keep a very careful distance between us at the moment,” she informed him. “I have things to do this evening, and being distracted by you isn’t one of those things.”

His eyes narrowed on her as he moved to his discarded clothing and pulled his jeans from the pile.

“What did you have planned?” he asked, as he pulled the denim over those spectacular legs. “I thought we’d have dinner together.”

She suddenly wished her evening was free after all.

She was too easy, she told herself. A wimp. A wuss. A horny fool.

“Regretfully, I have to decline.”

Actually, she was ready to dress and run home right now rather than face the pain she knew was coming. If it weren’t for her own past and the knowledge the killer evidently had, then she would do just that. Maybe.

Her gaze flickered over him again, from his muscular legs encased in denim to the dark bronzed flesh that stretched across his chest. He was one of the most handsome men she knew, and one of the most alluring Breeds she had ever met.

It was truly not fair that man had created such animalistic beauty in so many different forms. Breeds were known not just for their genetics, but for their intense good looks and superb physical condition.

“You’re aroused.” His sudden statement sent heat coursing through her face. “You’re always aroused around me, Cassa, yet you’ve never flirted, never given any other hint of interest. Why is that?” Suspicion darkened his eyes.

“Because I didn’t like the games you played?” She arched her brows. “You and your brother are known for more than your good looks, Cabal. Playing with your toys together is one of the nicer descriptions that I’ve heard of your little playdates.”

They had, at least at one time, been known for sharing their women.

A smile creased his lips then. “Tanner’s mated now, you know that. We no longer share our toys, as you call it.”

That smile was too knowing and too damned sexy. Cassa stared back at him with an impending sense of finality. The past was indeed catching up with her, in the worst possible way.

She breathed out roughly. “I don’t have the patience for Breed games this evening, Cabal. I have a job to do here. Maybe I’ll see you tonight.”

She moved for the change of clothes she had laid out on the dresser earlier.

His arms dropped from his chest as he advanced into the room, his head turning, his gaze roving over the small living area and the laptop.

When he stopped, he was only a few feet from her, his gaze pinning her as his expression turned dark and foreboding. “Stay out of the park area,” he told her, his voice chilly with warning. “It’s not safe right now.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” she answered firmly, when everything inside her was warning her to back down. “You don’t tell me what to do simply because you’ve mated me.”

His lips thinned. “Make it work that way, Cassa.”

“Then give me the information I need,” she told him. “Tell me what the hell is going on and why Breeds are cleaning up after a killer.”

He knew what she knew. He had been in that valley, he and Dog, possibly working together, had ensured that she made it nowhere near the area.

Cabal’s brows lowered heavily over the glitter of gold in his green eyes. Irritation marked his expression as well as his gaze.

“You don’t want to be a part of this,” he finally told her, his voice low. “The killer has targeted you, Cassa. I know you were contacted. Jonas has already talked to your editor concerning it. Go home, let me take care of this. That’s my job.”

At least he wasn’t lying to her anymore.

“You had no right to talk to my editor, and I’m already a part of it,” she argued. “Your killer made certain of it.”

“And haven’t you questioned why?” he snapped furiously. “You’re a target most likely because of that bastard Watts. He was involved with the Deadly Dozen up to his fucking eyeballs and you know it.”

Yes, she had suspected that much. One of the men in that grainy picture, the one more hidden than the others, the one she couldn’t quite place, resembled Douglas too closely.

“I’ve always been a voice for the Breeds, Cabal,” she informed him. “If Tanner is the face of the Breeds, then I’m the voice, you know that. I’ve made certain of it. The killer is obviously targeting the Breeds and their standing in society. If Douglas was part of the Dozen, then that would make it even sweeter for the killer. It discredits me if the world finds out. It would make it appear as if I were playing favorites to make up for his sins.”

He shook his head. “And the killer is targeting much more than Breed standing in society, we both know it. Now I’ll ask you again. Why are you involved in this?”

“Because I’m involved with you.” That was the truth. Not enough of the truth, but enough that he couldn’t smell a lie.

Cabal frowned at the answer. “We’re not involved. You’ve made certain of that.”

She shook her head. “I was there when your facility was rescued. I reported it. That story and the pictures taken of it rocked the world with the brutality of the Council, you know that, not to mention the airtime Douglas’s death received. You’re investigating these murders; you have been since the first. Naturally the killer would tie us together.”

It was logical, and the only reason she could come up with that didn’t truly terrify her.

He shook his head. “You’re reaching.”

His gaze flickered over her again. The caressing look had heat chasing away the chill of fear. This was the danger in being around Cabal. She forgot to beware of him. She forgot that he was as much a danger to her as an attraction. She forgot this wasn’t a love match, it was a hormonal phenomenon. That was the greatest danger, because forgetting that could destroy her.

She shrugged nonchalantly at the accusation. “It makes perfect sense to me.”

“Only to you,” he grunted as he looked around the room once again, before turning his gaze back to her. “I want you to drop this, Cassa. Let me do my job here, then I’ll give you the story. Stay out of it for now. Don’t endanger both of us.”

Cabal caught the scent of her anger, her refusal, seconds before her eyes narrowed on him and her face flushed a becoming shade of pink.

She was pissed. That anger infused her arousal as well, to create a scent that struck straight to his balls. They drew up, tightened and clenched with a surge of lust that almost took his breath. He could take her again, he realized. Right now. It would be no hardship to lay her back on that bed and fuck her until they were both screaming with the pleasure.

“Not going to work.” She jerked her clothes from the dresser before stooping to pick up a pair of hiking boots. “Sorry, babe, but I have a date I can’t miss. Have fun without me.”

Have fun without her? He almost snarled at the thought of her having fun without him. He didn’t think so. There wouldn’t be a date she’d be attending without him overseeing.

“You’re being foolish, Cassa. You know the danger that exists here.”

“My job description doesn’t mention safety,” she informed him coolly as she headed for the bathroom. “Don’t worry, I’m fairly certain you don’t have to be concerned about me whoring around on you.” There was an edge of pain in her voice now, a bitterness that had nothing to do with him.

“I’m not Watts.” He made the statement simply, coldly. “Don’t apply his treatment of you to me.”

That too had been in the investigation that had been done on her after Watts’s so-called death. The man had treated his wife like a possession. He had made painful false accusations to control her. He’d made certain she stayed on a very short leash. Not because he loved her, but so he could control her.

She paused at his command. Her lips thinned angrily as she watched him, evidently sizing up exactly how far she could push him. At the moment, the boundary was a near one.

“Then don’t try to control me,” she suggested, the scent of her anger nearly overwhelming the arousal now. “You can share this little venture with me, or we can just keep muddling along on our own. Either way, this is my story and I’ll finish it.”

Cabal could feel the hunger moving inside him now. Her deliberate defiance had his animal instincts rising, the need to dominate her nearly overwhelming his control. She was his mate. He was the more powerful, he was the leader and she was deliberately endangering herself, placing herself in the line of fire.

Humanity insisted he step aside and let her do what she needed to do. The animal was roaring in rage though. This was his woman. His mate. Without her, what would he be? How would he function?

He had to get her out of the area. He had to get her far enough away from him that she was no longer in danger. He would have called Jonas and requested his help except he was pretty certain he would be denied. The bastard would only be amused by the request.

He watched as she stared back at him. His gaze locked with hers, willing her to do as he ordered, to save them both, because he couldn’t leave. Even if he wanted to.

“I can’t leave, Cabal, even if I wanted to.”

He almost flinched as her words reflected his own thoughts. He wanted to clench his fists with the need to touch her now, to claim her again, to force her to think of her safety first.

“You never did understand the meaning of personal preservation, did you, Cassa?” Cabal heard the rumble of his voice in his chest and almost winced.

“And you never did understand the meaning of personal choice,” she retorted. “I don’t need your permission, Cabal. Don’t pretend that I do.”

Animal genetics sucked on a good day, and today was definitely not one of the good ones. The dominance that was so much a part of the Breeds could rise within seconds, as it was now. She was defying him in a situation where he needed control, needed to control the players involved. But even more than that, she was his mate and she was placing her life in jeopardy.

The human part of him accepted the logic that she had a free will of her own, but the animal part of him, the part that knew the preservation of the Breeds depended on mating, felt otherwise. She should be safe, behind strong walls, enclosed in a secure environment. She shouldn’t be placing her life in danger, no matter the situation or the reason.

It was typical Breed arrogance and even though he fought it, he feared he would eventually lose the battle.

“Personal preservation was never high on my list of priorities anyway.” She shrugged and he knew she meant it. “You only live once, Cabal. If you hide and bury your head from the world around you, then you aren’t living. You’re existing.”

“You’re an adventure junkie,” he accused her.

She laughed at that. He watched her lips tilt in sudden amusement, saw the laughter that crossed her gaze.

“Is that what you call it? My father used to call it insanity.”

She had lost her family just before meeting Douglas Watts and marrying him. Perhaps that was why the bastard had managed to fool her so easily. He had been no friend of the Breeds, and his coverage of the rescues had always been subtly biased.

“Insanity is a good word for it.” He moved closer. Damn if he could help himself. He wanted to feel the warmth of her, wanted to touch her satiny flesh, taste it. She was naked beneath that robe, for now. If he didn’t move quickly, she would be dressed and gone.

“Cabal.” Her voice was breathless.

It was breathless in passion as well, he remembered. Sweet and husky, drawn from deep within her chest as pleasure stole through her. He wanted to hear it again, her soft little cries, her mews of need and ecstasy.

“I dream of you.” The words were dragged from him. He hadn’t meant to whisper those words, hadn’t meant to reveal that information to her. “I dream of touching you, of licking every inch of your flesh.”

She shivered. Cabal watched the betraying little ripple as it rushed across her body. Wide gray eyes stared up at him, a little bemused, a lot wary. He could see the hungry need in her eyes, in the ripening of her lips, in the flush of her cheeks.

He couldn’t force himself to move from her path, to allow her to walk from the room and into danger. His sweet, sweet mate. Why would he do something so insane when he could have her beneath him, arching into his touch, begging for the completion that only he could bring her?

“Cabal, don’t do this.”

He paused, his lips a breath from hers as he watched the conflicting emotions chase across her face, smelled them in her subtle scent. Anger. A shade of pain and bitterness. And determination. She was determined to do what she had come here to do, and he was deliberately standing in her way.

Mating heat was one thing, but at this moment he was deliberately igniting those fires to keep her here. To keep her safe.

“Letting you go tonight isn’t going to change anything,” he warned her softly. “You can run forever, Cassa, and I’ll be right behind you.”

Her lips trembled, and it was all he could do to keep from catching them beneath his own and loving them with all the hunger he could feel building between her and him.

She was his. God had created her for him, matched her to him. Heart and soul, she had been meant for him.

“I’m a possession,” she whispered painfully. He could feel the pain, smell it on the air around them. “A mate. That’s all, Cabal.”

“My only mate,” he reminded her, his voice harsh. “You should be thankful I haven’t loaded you up in a heli-jet and had you whisked back to Sanctuary.”

“You should be thankful that I didn’t shoot you first.” She was nose to nose with him now, anger overwhelming arousal, pride adding its bittersweet scent.

She wanted to deny him, but her fingers were holding on to his arms, the tips massaging his flesh. She was denying him, even as she held on to him.

“I should show you how good staying here could be,” he whispered.

He wanted to act on it. His tongue wanted to act; the glands beneath it were swollen, hot, the mating hormone begging to be released into the warm depths of her mouth. He could just lick her. Just lick over the lush curves of her lips. It would take no more than that. The mating hormone in the glands of his tongue was eager, ready for release once again.

Cabal clenched his teeth, fought for control. Just a little control. Now was not the time for this. He had his own meeting to attend and arrangements to make to ensure her safety.

But how fucking sweet she was. He knew her now, knew the taste of her and the intoxicating effects it would have on him.

So intoxicating.

A growl rumbled in his chest. One hand lowered, fingers cupping the curve of her rear as he jerked her close, lifted her, ground her against the erection throbbing hard and hot beneath his jeans.

He could have her now, he could take her. All it would take was a single kiss. One hot, desperate caress of his tongue against hers and she would belong to him. She wouldn’t be able to deny him.

“Cabal.” If it was a protest, then it was a weak one.

Her head fell back as his lips moved to her jaw, her neck. He didn’t lick, though he wanted to. He was dying to.

Instead, his lips only parted, his teeth raked over the sensitive flesh as his cock jerked at the sound of her sudden, needy little moan.

Sweet heaven. That was what he needed from her. The sound of her pleasure. Not her protests, not the look of wariness or fear in her eyes. But just this, Cassa’s pleasure.