Bengal's Heart

◆ CHAPTER 7 ◆

The fallout was always sure to suck. Cassa had learned that years ago, the morning after the rescue and the deaths at the German facility where Cabal and his pride had been held.

The fallout was slipping from the hotel room while he showered and trying to run, to hide, not just from Cabal, but from herself.

What the hell had she done? She had all but dared him, all but begged him to mate her, even knowing what she would be facing. What she was facing now. The sensitivity of her flesh, the emotions that roiled within her, the need that attacked her clitoris, that kept her nipples tight and hard.

She wandered through town until she found herself once again on the bank of the river where the missing former mayor had last been seen, staring across the distance at the old water management plant once again.

The place looked dark, sinister. Like some specter of death that overlooked the small lagoon and falls before the water spilled back into the main river.

Its appearance suited her morbid turn of mood.

She may as well be contemplating a prison sentence, she told herself. Or remarriage. Hell, this was going to be worse than remarriage, because you didn’t divorce your mate. There was no cure for mating heat. Too bad, so sad, she thought sarcastically.

Crouching at the water’s edge, she stared into the cold ripples of water swishing back and forth against the sand and frowned at her own thoughts.

She was doing what she had sworn she would never do again; she was tying herself to another man. And this time, she was doing it in a way she couldn’t escape.

She had allowed Cabal to mate her. He had taken her, not just once through the night, but almost continually. Tirelessly.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe through the ripples of remembered pleasure. She could almost see him as he had been the night before, his body sheened with sweat, his muscles rippling in his chest and arms as he rode her with a strength that still amazed her.

God, she was insane. She had lost her ever lovin’ mind somewhere, and evidently she wasn’t about to find it anytime soon.

The hormones she had been taking for the past five years evidently did little to help assert common sense when a woman was around the Breed that her hormones went crazy for. Because the treatments sure as hell hadn’t helped. This morning she had taken two pills to compensate, but she had a feeling the compensation wasn’t going to last past her own hope that she could exist away from him for more than an hour or two.

She was demented.

She almost smiled at the thought as she shook her head and picked up a small, mineral-stained pebble, wishing the chill in her hand would extend to other parts of her body. Like the flesh aching between her thighs, dammit. And even worse, and this truly was the worst part, the incredible need just to be held. Something he hadn’t given her.

She threw the pebble and watched the ever widening ripples as it hit the water.

Damn him.

She tried to fight back the emotions tearing at her. She hated it when she allowed herself to be hurt. When she let her expectations build despite her efforts not to.

And that was exactly what she had done. Over the past years she had watched the Breeds and their mates. She had seen their devotion to each other, the silent though passionate and emotional air that surrounded each couple.

She had allowed herself to dream. She hadn’t thought she had; she had thought she was controlling it. She had been wrong. This morning she had learned exactly how wrong she had been. When she had turned to him, half-asleep, wanting his arms around her, he had turned away instead.

She rose quickly to her feet, blinking back her tears as she turned and stared around the forested little park once again.

Why the hell had she come back here anyway? Why hadn’t she just packed her shit and returned home once she realized the problems she was going to have with the story she was investigating?

It wasn’t as though she was actually going to report the damned murder anyway, unless someone else did. Her loyalty to the Breeds was so well known that it had begun affecting her professional standing.

It sucked to be an unwanted mate. But it just might suck worse to be an unloved mate.

Her teeth snapped together at the thought of love. She had never allowed herself to think of Cabal in terms of love. She had deliberately forced herself to never think in those terms. Unconsciously though, perhaps she had thought in those terms anyway. After all, she knew how mated couples loved, she had seen it, envied it over the years.

What had made her think that simply mating her would make Cabal love her?

Because she loved him?

She shook her head and turned around to stalk back to the parking lot. As she neared the pavement, her gaze was caught by the car pulling into the entrance to the park and the curly red hair of the man driving.

She almost smiled.

She had left a message on the reporter’s cell phone as she left the hotel earlier, though she hadn’t expected him to show up rather than calling her back.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” A quiet smile crossed Myron’s freckled face as he opened the car door and stepped out of the car. “I heard you were in town before you called. Heard you were being shadowed by some Bengal with an attitude too.”

“News travels fast.” Cassa shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket as a capricious wind tugged at her hair and whipped it across her face. “Is the Bengal why you haven’t checked out the rumor?”

She had expected to hear from Myron earlier. She hadn’t called before now because she knew his wife, Patricia, could be a jealous little shrew. She liked Patricia, but she didn’t want to be the cause of yet another fight that Myron had to deal with because she had called.

“The Bengal might have had something to do with it.” A rueful grin tugged at his lips as he pulled his denim jacket closer and gazed around the park rather than meeting her eyes. “This place has been getting a lot of attention lately. Ever since Banks’s disappearance, you can count on seeing at least a couple of Breeds a week here. Not to mention the government types that have made an appearance.”

“Government types?” Cassa tilted her head to the side as she stared back at him, noting the somber sadness in his pale blue eyes.

Myron shrugged at the question. “There was a government agent roaming around a few days before your Bengal showed up. Just after he arrived, a team of Coyotes showed up. I didn’t know Banks was that damned popular. Personally, I think the world is a better place without him.”

Cassa watched him in surprise. “What did you know about Banks that no one’s telling me?”

Myron snorted at that. “Plenty. You don’t live here, Cass. I’ve tried to tell you about small towns and you never want to listen.”

Myron had always said they were a law unto themselves, and that it was that simple. That they band together to protect themselves or fight the enemy. They were independent and head-strong.

“So what are the good citizens of Glen Ferris banding together to hide?”

He shook his head before plowing his large hands through the shaggy, fiery curls that covered his head.

“Banks was a bastard.” He breathed out roughly. “He and his buddies got together around here about once a year. Brandenmore and Engalls and a bunch of others. They liked to hunt.” A shadow passed across his expression for a brief second.

“I’ve heard they liked to hunt two-legged prey more often than four-legged,” she guessed. “Banks was rumored to be a part of a group of men that hunted Breeds.”

Myron’s nostrils flared as a cold breeze whipped around the lot.

“A lot of Breeds were hunted in a lot of places,” he snapped out. “Not just here.”

He knew more than he was telling, Cassa could feel it. She knew Myron. They’d worked together before her marriage, and after Douglas’s death, it had been Myron who helped her through the first bitter months of realization. She knew him as well as she could know anyone.

“What’s going on, Myron?” She pushed her hair back from her face, her gaze turning to the entrance of the park, where several cars pulled out and another pulled in.

“You should go home, Cassa.”

She was getting really tired of being told to go home.

“Rather than what?” she asked quietly. “I’m here to find out what happened to Banks, not to turn tail and run because no one wants to talk.”

“There’s no fucking story,” Myron bit out angrily. “Banks was a crazy bastard that liked to drink. He’s probably drifting in the current of that damned river somewhere and just has yet to surface. Give the fucker time, he’ll show up.”

The wealth of hatred in Myron’s tone had Cassa staring back at him, more than surprised now. She was shocked at the fury that brightened his gaze and flushed his face.

“He was mayor here for eight years,” she said quietly. “Voted in and supposedly loved by all the citizens of the county. Then he just disappears and the sheriff can’t get so much as a dozen citizens together to search for him.”

“ ‘Good riddance’ is pretty much what we thought about it,” Myron grimaced. “Cassa, dammit. No one cares if he’s dead or not. No one cares and you shouldn’t either.”

“Why shouldn’t I? He’s not the first casuality here, Myron, and you know it. People are dying in the mountains here and no one seems to care.”

Myron stared at her silently for long moments. His expression flashed with such bitter pain that Cassa actually felt the hurt herself for a moment.

“People have always died in these mountains,” he finally said softly. “No one cared then either.”

Breeds had died here. The information she had stated, more than one had died here, and many had suffered at the hands of the Deadly Dozen, once they were captured.

“Why did Banks stay here?” she asked. “If what you say is true, then he couldn’t have had much peace.”

“He had what he wanted.” Myron shrugged. “His nice house on the hill, his guns and his hunting buddies. Banks didn’t give a damn about much else.”

“Did his hunting buddies give a damn about him?” Cassa moved closer to the warm car. The engine was still running; the warmth flowing from it eased the chill that raced over her on the outside.

Myron leaned against the car door as he turned to look at her.

“You’re not going to let it go, are you?” he asked.

Cassa grinned back at him. “You know better than that, Myron. Might as well help me.”

“You lost your senses somewhere,” he accused her. “Even I’m not following up on this story, Cassa. As much as I hated Banks, I’d still like the answers to what happened to him. But things happen here in these mountains, and a smart man knows when to back off.”

That internal reporter radar went off like a siren. The blood was suddenly pumping through her veins and curiosity was slamming in her head. Of course, that surge of adrenaline was causing other, less comforting sensations as well, but she could handle those for the time being.

“I don’t know of anyone who knows you that’s accused you of being smart when it came to backing off on a story, Myron,” she reminded him.

“Naw, Cassa, that was you,” he sighed.

Her lips parted to ask more questions when a black-and-white sheriff’s cruiser pulled into the parking lot on the other side of Myron’s car.

Cassa lifted her brows as Myron’s head lowered and another rough breath passed his lips.

What the hell was going on here and just how many people were involved in it?

She watched as the sheriff, an older female, stepped out of the cruiser and settled her official hat on her head.

Danna Lacey. At forty-five years old, her short black and gray hair framed her slender face and emphasized her dark green eyes.

“Myron, how are you doing?” The sheriff’s eyes were curious as her gaze went between Myron and Cassa.

“I’m doing fine, Danna,” he stated with a tinge of mockery as the sheriff moved around the car. “You?”

She nodded slowly, her gaze staying on Cassa now.

“Doin’ good. I noticed your car over here and thought I’d stop by and let you know that Patty was looking for you earlier.”

Myron frowned at that, as he pulled his cell free of his jacket pocket and flipped it open. “She didn’t call.”

Danna’s smile was a bit rueful. “She lost her cell phone again, Myron. She’s at the diner. I told her I’d let you know if I saw you.”

Myron rolled his eyes. His expression was a cross between impatience and impotence.

“Time for me to go.” He opened the car door as Cassa straightened from the car and glanced back at him. “Tell your Bengal hello from me, Cassa. Make sure I get an invite to the joining, wedding or whatever the hell they’re calling it this month.”

The reference to the different titles given to mating ceremonies had a frown flashing across Cassa’s face. There was a hint of knowledge in Myron’s tone that shouldn’t be there. As though he knew more about the ceremonies, and the joining, than he should.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to make a note of that,” she promised mockingly, as he got into the car and slid it smoothly into gear.

He drove off as Cassa turned and lifted a brow in the sheriff’s direction.

Sheriff Lacey grinned at the look. “Patty’s my cousin,” she stated. “She’s been having a hard time lately. I didn’t want rumor circulating that Myron was seen having a nice little visit with a strange woman.”

At least the sheriff was honest.

“Cassa Hawkins.” Cassa extended her hand to the other woman. “I’m a fellow reporter. Myron and I went to college together.”

“He’s mentioned you actually.” The sheriff nodded with a smile. “You were there with him during the first interview with Callan Lyons, when he revealed the existence of the Breeds.”

That historic occasion was one that Cassa had nearly missed. s.” ssed The notice had gone across the nation that a breaking story in Ashland, Kentucky, was going to blow the top off a top secret private and military experiment that had been over a century in the making.

Cassa and Myron had met up in West Virginia and driven in at near breakneck speed. They had questioned Lyons, gone over the medical evidence and seen the truth for themselves, along with dozens of other reporters.

“I was there,” Cassa admitted.

That had been more than a decade ago. Hell, it was probably closer to twelve years before. So much time had passed. So many lives had been lost as well as created in that time.

So many years, and still the Genetics Council that had created the Breeds, then tried to destroy their creations, was hampering their freedom.

The Council funded pure blood societies, incited those groups against the Breeds and, in some cases, recaptured their creations and finished the destruction.

“There were a lot of us that threw a party the day Lyons revealed what was going on.” Danna nodded. “I was part of the Breed Freedom Society,” she revealed. “The battle isn’t over, but reporters such as yourself and Myron have definitely made the world safer for them.”

The Breed Freedom Society had disbanded a few years after Sanctuary, the Feline Breed compound, had been created.

They had created themselves as a group dedicated to the lives of the Breeds who managed to escape and to finding them. They hid them in the mountains and in their own homes, or smuggled them to other states. Whatever it had taken to protect them.

“Lyons coming forward made it much easier to protect them,” Cassa agreed. “The battle isn’t over yet though.”

“No, not quite,” the sheriff agreed as Cassa fought back a cold shiver.

The temperature felt as though it had dropped on the outside, while on the inside she was beginning to burn with disastrous results.

“The Breed Freedom Society is almost as legendary as Lyons himself,” Cassa told her. “Your group was together for more than two decades trying to protect the Breeds that came here. You did a wonderful job.”

“Did we?” The somber curve to the sheriff’s lips couldn’t be called a smile. “We did our best, but it was rarely enough.” She turned and stared at Myron’s vehicle as it turned back to the main road. “He was married to a Breed, you know.”

She hadn’t known.

Cassa turned her head quickly to the rapidly disappearing car before turning back to the sheriff.

“I had no idea.”

Had Myron mated his Breed?

“She was killed a few years before Lyons came forward,” the sheriff said. “An entire group of Breeds was killed that night. It was Valentine’s night. She was pregnant at the time with their first child. David Banks was part of the group that hunted them down, though we couldn’t prove it.”

Good God. David Banks had been part of the Deadly Dozen, she had known that, or at least her informant had claimed he was, and Cassa hadn’t doubted it. But to hear this, to know he had killed so indiscriminately, for the fun of it, still had the power to shock her to the core of her soul.

“I’ve known Myron a lot of years,” Cassa said. “I had no idea.”

Danna shrugged. “It’s fairly common knowledge here in Glen Ferris. For a while, we didn’t think Myron would survive her death. He was in bad shape.” The sheriff shook her head in concern. “When he finally pulled himself out of it, he just wasn’t the same anymore. A few years later he married Patricia, but she knows Myron never forgot his first wife, Illandra.”

Which explained why Myron’s wife was so possessive and jealous. She had a man who she knew belonged to another woman. It wouldn’t matter if that woman had died, or if she was living, in her heart Patricia knew that his heart belonged to another.

“You talk to enough folks and you’ll hear about Illandra,” Danna sighed. “We all loved her, especially those of us who were part of the Freedom Society. If we’d known who the men were in that hunting party, we would have done a little hunting of our own.”

Cassa saw the rage that flashed in the sheriff’s eyes, the pain that filled her face for the briefest second. She knew Myron was close to all his family. He thrived on family, and evidently Danna did as well.

“Anyway, just be careful where you meet him and who sees it,” Danna advised. “Patricia’s been sick lately, and she doesn’t need any more grief than she’s already dealt with here.”

Cassa nodded slowly. She could relate to that, she could understand it. Cassa had her own ghosts, her own regrets that she knew would follow her probably even into death.

She understood Patricia a little better now though, where she hadn’t before. She’d always liked Myron’s wife, but she’d always known that Patricia had hated it when Cassa met with Myron over the Breed revelations more than a decade ago.

If Myron had mated his Breed wife though, would he have eventually been able to wed and to have children with another woman? And there was no doubt those children were Myron’s. They looked just like him.

She wished now that she had questioned her friend more extensively when she first learned that he had been part of a group that had smuggled Breeds through the States after their escape. She wished she had delved into more than the fact that Breeds had been escaping those labs for decades.

There was so much information to process at times with this new species of humanity though. Sometimes Cassa could well relate to the average citizen’s fears and phobias where the Breeds were concerned.

Breeds had been created with one purpose in mind: to kill, and to do so savagely and without mercy. To look at them, to see the near perfection of their bodies and their features, it was hard at first to imagine that killers lurked behind their charming smiles or saddened eyes.

But that was exactly what lurked there. A creature that had been bred with the intent to bring out the most animalistic instincts that could be imagined.

“I better be going then,” the sheriff finally announced as she turned away. “If you need anything, Miss Hawkins . . .”

“Actually, I do,” Cassa informed her.

The sheriff turned back to her slowly with a frown. “How so?”

“I need to know more about David Banks and his disappearance. There’s been no body, no clue to his whereabouts or who may have wanted him dead. This is my story, Sheriff Lacey. I’m going to need information from somewhere.”

A smile flashed across the other woman’s face. It was tinged with a hint of knowing mockery as well as friendliness.

“So, since you can’t meet with Myron, you’ll just ask me?”

Cassa lifted her hands with amused helplessness. “We do what we must.”

The sheriff laughed at that. “That we do.” She shrugged her shoulders beneath the heavy jacket she wore. “But, where Banks is concerned, there’s not a lot I can tell you. I know his ex-wife, his kids, in-laws and grandkids. I know his birthday, I know where he ate when he ate out and who his golfing buddies in town were, but that’s about it.”

Cassa pulled the notebook and pen from her back pocket and flipped it open. “Who were the golfing buddies?”

Danna’s eyes glittered with amusement as she shook her head. “You’re a quick one. No one knows anything, but I’ll give you names.”

The sheriff gave her names—names of the golfing buddies, Banks’s favorite waitress and his banker. By the time they’d finished talking and Danna was driving away, Cassa was left with a head full of information that she had no idea how to categorize at the moment.

She was also left to face the mating heat and its building effects. The burn between her thighs, the light sheen of sweat between her breasts and the knowledge that, on more than one front, running from Cabal wasn’t going to work.

Even more, running from herself wasn’t going to work. The old saying you can run but you can’t hide more than applied at the moment. She was running from the emotions she had hid for far too many years, and now she was going to have to figure out exactly how to deal with them.

Tucking her hands back into the pockets of her jacket, she turned and headed out of the park for the walk back to the inn. It wasn’t a short hike, and it would be hell with the mating heat rising inside her body. It would give her time to think though. And right now, she needed plenty of time to think.