Coyote's Mate

CHAPTER 11

If there was a bone or muscle that didn’t hurt in his body, then Del-Rey couldn’t find it. Brim did a rough stitch on the laceration on his arm after he managed to reset the dislocated shoulder.

Blood fury had raged, though, the second the all-terrain went flying through the air. Jumping from it, they had moved in on the position of the men attempting to ambush the Breed limos.

They’d run like rats, but humans were no match for the Breeds’ night senses and tracking abilities. They’d captured five of the bastards; one had died as he fired a bullet that managed to lodge in Del-Rey’s other shoulder.

They were still trying to find all the pieces of his throat after Del-Rey had managed to tear it out.

Wolfe, his heads of security, Jacob and Aiden, as well two Wolf Breed and two Coyote teams were present. Del-Rey was still staring at Ivan in disbelief as he was relating how Anya had sent out the second team of Coyote soldiers along with three of his enforcers—Ivan, Samuel and Mordecai—in the heli-jet to make certain they brought back their alpha, breathing.

He wanted to shake his head. That wasn’t the Anya he knew, but as he’d learned in the past week, the Anya he had known had grown in ways he still didn’t fully understand.

“She has control of Communications.” Brim covered the mic of his communications headset and stared back at Del-Rey in amusement. “She hasn’t cussed yet, but she’s demanding a report.”

“Tell her I’m breathing,” he grunted.

“She’s ordered a team to Haven,” Brim told him then. “And an enforcer to interrogate the bartender we brought back with us. She’s been in contact with the lupina, Hope, and they’re coordinating—umm—defenses.”

Del-Rey winced and looked at Wolfe, who didn’t seem in the least concerned.

He finally shrugged. Hell, Hope, Faith and Anya’s bodyguards had prepared her for this. At this point he had no choice but to trust in her abilities.

“She threw Sofia out of Communications. Did you know she was headed back to Base?” Brim asked. Del-Rey gave him a negative shake of his head. “While her soldiers turned their backs and covered her, she tossed her dress aside and within seconds had on jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers, and she was barking out orders the whole time. Our men are scared, Del.”

Del-Rey snorted at the thought of that. His men were scared of nothing, least of all a coya they all but revered.

“Damn, she’s running the place like she was born to it.” Brim looked worried. “What the hell is she doing learning how to run Command this way?”

Del-Rey lifted his head from where he had glanced at the ground, processing the information Brim was giving him. God, he fucking hurt.

“She’s going to make our lives hell and in the end most likely have us thanking God for it,” he finally told his enforcer. “Get the heli-jet ready to fly. I need to get to Haven for medical assistance before I return to Base. Our medical techs aren’t experienced enough to deal with my wounds.”

He might have a cracked rib. He probed at it and winced, hoping it wasn’t too severe. He’d had every intention of mating his little mate at the first opportunity. He had a feeling that wasn’t happening tonight.

“She’s demanding a detailed report,” Brim suddenly hissed.

“Down to that last scratch on that mangy Coyote’s hide, as she’s calling you. Del-Rey, I’m not dealing with her.”

“Then deal with her when we get back to Base,” Del-Rey sighed. “Is that heli-jet prepped yet?”

“Fuck! She finds out you went to Haven for medical and she’s going to be waiting on all of us with a gun.”

There was something more serious than his coya’s irritation. Del-Rey forced himself not to sway as he felt the blood seeping from his side from the branch that had punctured it earlier.

Blood loss definitely. Possible internal damage. He listed the injuries in his mind, searching for any other problems. Sometimes, Dr. Armani needed help in diagnosing Coyote medical problems.

“Hell!” Brim suddenly caught him, his hand uncovering the mic at his mouth. “Get that heli-jet ready,” he yelled out. “We have alpha three in distress. I repeat. Alpha three in distress. Notify Armani we’re flying in.”

He should have told Brim about the puncture, Del-Rey thought caustically. The leather of the jacket had helped, but that damned wood had been spiked.

He felt the helping hands and pushed them away as he pushed himself to his feet and waved his men to the transport. He could still walk under his own steam. He’d been wounded worse and made it back to pick up plenty of times; he would damned sure make it to Haven now.

Anya froze as she heard the order. “Alpha three in distress. Notify Armani.”

She could have sworn she felt the blood leech from her face.

“Well, it seems he managed to get himself hurt,” Sofia drawled in amusement from the doorway of Command.

Mocking and filled with cold amusement, the other woman had Anya’s fingers curling to keep from trying to tear her eyes out.

“We’re going to Haven,” she ordered Emma before turning to the lieutenant in charge of command personnel. “You have Command. Keep me updated every thirty.”

“Base is under lockdown, Coya.” The computer tech stared up at her in concern. “We can’t unlock without the alpha’s authority.”

“You’ll unlock or I promise you, you’ll be on perimeter duty, sleeping on the dirt outside, for the next month,” Anya snapped. “Get a door open and get me out of here.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Sofia was leaning against a wall, inspecting her fingernails. “I saw him take a bullet to the belly four months ago. He was up and moving around hours after they removed it and bitching orders right and left. He’s tough.”

“Alpha three has lost consciousness.” The voice came through the communications speakers.

All the Coyotes in the room raised their heads to the monitor that showed the heli-jet lifting off.

“We have a deep puncture to the left side, possible kidney damage. Bullet, right shoulder.

Laceration left biceps, laceration left thigh. Possible cracked rib.”

Anya could feel her legs weakening.

“Emma!”

“Exit found,” Emma called out. “Team three is waiting, Haven has been notified that you’re arriving. Armani is prep-ping Surgery.”

“Move!” Anya turned, pushing at Emma to move faster until they were practically running for the elevator. The Coyote soldiers surrounded her as she, Emma and Ashley stepped into the cubicle.

The ascension was quick, though each second seemed a lifetime to Anya. As the doors slid open, she was moving to the second team, waiting at a narrow access door leading through a narrow stone tunnel.

“All-terrains are waiting outside,” one of the soldiers informed her quickly. “You’ll be riding with your two personal bodyguards. As well as three soldiers. Two vehicles ahead of you, two behind.”

“One ahead of me, three behind,” she informed him, flashing him a hard look. “Missiles generally aim for the middle vehicle and you know it.”

“An armed ambush would go for the first two vehicles first,” he argued. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet.”

She turned on him, eyes narrowed, rage shaking through her.

“Delay me a single second longer and I’ll have you reported to the Coyote Cabinet for reprimand. Don’t assume, soldier, that I’m not well aware of our security and protection protocols, because I am. Now, get your head out of your own egotistical ass and get me to Haven before I have Emma shoot you.”

Emma smiled and laid her hand on the butt of the weapon strapped to her side.

“Why can’t I shoot him?” Ashley pouted. “Emma gets all the fun.”

She ignored them, waving to the team ahead of her to proceed. She wasn’t ignorant. She knew how to run Base; she’d studied everything about the Coyote base that she could study and spent hours upon hours working command simulations with the techs in charge of the command center.

She’d thrived on the challenge of learning. But now she was terrified she wouldn’t get to Del-Rey in time.

Exiting the caverns, she moved quickly to the second all-terrain and jumped into the back, knowing damned good and well no one was going to let her ride up front. Emma and Ashley sat on either side of her as the Coyote soldiers filled the front and back weapon areas.

Within seconds the five vehicles were racing back down the mountain, swinging around the curves and entering the secured pass into Haven.

Minutes later she was jumping to the ground and moving swiftly into the medical bunker, moving through the secured area and down the incline belowground to the surgical and medical areas.

“Brim.” She moved quickly to Del-Rey’s personal bodyguard and second-in-command. “How is he?”

Brim looked harried.

“You shouldn’t be here, Coya,” he admonished her. “You’re safer at Base.”

She was tired of everyone acting as though she didn’t belong in the places she wanted to be.

She glared back at him. “I didn’t ask for your opinion; I asked for your report.”

He gave it, and when he finished, Anya felt her frustration rising. Dr. Armani was fighting against genetics she didn’t understand, but Del-Rey had stabilized. The blood kept on hand for just such an occasion had been used to replace what he had lost, but his system was moving sluggishly, accepting the drugs the doctor had created to treat Coyote wounds, but those drugs still weren’t as effective as they could be.

Unfortunately, there was very little information on the treatment of Coyote Breeds in the labs.

Coyotes were slightly more paranoid than the Wolves and Felines. Talk about the destruction of records. All records. Nothing had been saved, on the off chance that anyone would find a weakness they were unaware of.

This couldn’t continue.

“Emma,” she murmured as Brim moved away. “I need a contact.”

“No. Don’t ask me to do that.” Emma sighed. “I nearly got caught last time, Anya. I’m telling you, breaking that rule is such a no-no that it could get me killed.”

Contacting her father was expressly forbidden unless by phone. Twice Anya had managed to slip out to visit with him on the other side of town.

“He has the information I need,” she hissed. “What he doesn’t have, he can get. We’re going to end up losing men if we don’t get a Coyote specialist in here. Now, set it up.”

“I hate you, Coya.” She grimaced. “Del-Rey will kick my ass personally, then slit my throat.”

“Him or me, take your choice.” Anya shrugged before turning and pacing to the doors that led to Surgery.

She couldn’t see in here, as she could when she’d watched the techs treat Sharone. She was barred from Surgery, barred from seeing him herself.

“Anya?” Hope touched her arm.

Anya swung around to face the slightly Asian, exquisite features of the Wolf Breed lupina, the mate to the alpha leader Wolfe Gunnar. At her side was the Breed pack and pride liaison Faith, a Wolf Breed herself.

“Thanks for coming, Hope.” She smiled back at the other woman. “Is Wolfe okay?”

Hope nodded. “A few scratches, nothing more. He’s in a meeting room going ballistic with the army again over a gun-ship that didn’t get out in time. Jonas Wyatt is en route along with the pride alpha and his prima, Callan and Merinus Lyons. They’re considering a protest against the army base. They should have been prepared. They were on alert for any trouble tonight, but didn’t respond.”

“Typical,” Anya sighed.

“Wolfe sends his regards and says if you need anything, you’ve only to let us know.”

Anya nodded. “Base is secure and we have information coming in. I’d like a copy of anything you have as well as full sanction for Del-Rey’s enforcer, Brim, to interrogate your prisoner as well.”

Hope nodded. “I’ll contact Wolfe immediately. He mentioned you might want to want to do that but he wasn’t certain of your priorities.”

What had changed within her? The moment Del-Rey had jumped from that limo, everything she had learned about Base and the pack had kicked in. As though she had been born to stand at Del-Rey’s side and do what had to be done when he couldn’t.

That was the alpha female’s job. Hope had always pulled Anya along with her when Wolfe was required to lead certain missions. The weight of command seemed to sit comfortably on the other woman’s shoulders. Anya had noticed that about Merinus Lyons, the alpha pride leader, or prima as they called her. Both women knew how to lead, how to snap from mate to commander in the blink of an eye.

Something Anya had done without thinking as well. As though the entire time she’d been observing Hope, Anya had also absorbed the ability and the knowledge to begin stepping into her role of coya, the alpha female, the other half of the Coyote alpha pack leader.

Anya had always been a quick study. Anything that interested her, that caught her curious mind, was easily learned.

The Council had already chosen her for advanced admistrative and covert intelligence work. She had been scheduled to leave the labs within days before the Breeds’ escape.

“Come with me for a few minutes, Anya,” Hope encouraged her, leading her from the doors to a small sitting area. “Is everything going well with you and Del-Rey now?”

Anya turned back to her, watching the other woman intently. “We still snap and snarl at each other.”

Hope’s lips twitched as she smoothed back her shoulder-length straight black hair. “Proceeding as expected then,” she stated.

Anya shook her head. “I don’t understand him. I want to, but sometimes . . .” She shrugged. “He told me tonight that I’m what makes him worthy.” She frowned at the thought. “You can’t base your worthiness on someone else, Hope.”

Hope’s expression eased into a smile. “You’re talking about a man that’s aware he’s not natural,”

she said softly. “One who was created and trained with the understanding that he wasn’t natural.

That nature or God, or whoever you attribute the beginning of life to, didn’t breathe that life into him. Now, suddenly, nature or that God has given him something that’s marked solely as his. His other half. A comfort, a warmth, someone that eases all those lost, lonely dreams he didn’t know he had. That’s a part of being a Breed male. They base who and what they are on the acceptance they gain from that mate, Anya. You can’t change that.”

And maybe that was part of what terrified her when it came to Del-Rey. An innate knowledge that she was the woman this man had chosen, among all the women he had been with, those he had known, or could have known. He had chosen her. His body had chosen her. His soul had chosen her.

Which meant she belonged to him and everything he was. Even more, he belonged to her in the same way.

“Jonas showed me your file,” Hope admitted then. “Our director of the Bureau of Breed Affairs is amazingly efficient. That file listed your IQ as pretty much off the charts. Notes in the files state that anything you ‘want’ to learn, you excel at quickly and I’ve seen that. You’ve taken your place as the coya of your pack in a matter of months. You knew inside you couldn’t escape it, Anya. You didn’t want to escape it, or Del-Rey. Did you?”

“At the time, I had to.” And she had known that then as she knew it now. “That doesn’t mean I know how to be the woman he needs or that old hurts are easily forgotten,” she whispered.

“Being coya is a far cry from being a Breed’s mate, isn’t it?”

Hope nodded slowly. “Yes, it is. But being a Breed’s mate can quickly become even more important than anything you ever imagined, Anya. His lover. Letting him be the man you love.

It’s growth. Just as you’ve grown in the past eight months. Because you wanted to grow. It was in you to do it, and you did it far quicker than any of us anticipated.”

“You were working me.” She saw it now. Eight months of being worked, slowly, surely.

“Only in the most loving ways. We’re pack, Coya. We stick together and we help our own. It’s the only way we’ll survive in this crazy world we’ve been drawn into,” Hope said softly before her gaze shifted past Anya.

Anya twisted around, watching as Dr. Armani moved from surgery, her dark face creased in a frown as she pulled the mask from her face and found Anya’s gaze.

Anya was on her feet and moving to her, even as Brim stepped between them.

“Status,” Brim snapped.

Anya laid her hand on his arm and moved in front of him. She was aware of his irritation, the tension in his body as he stepped aside.

“Coya, I need a Coyote assistant,” Armani sighed. “Why did they kill all their scientists? We could have used one.”

Because their scientists were mad—not evil, not cruel, but their search for the perfect unfeeling warrior had been relentless. Letting them live hadn’t been an option. The two Anya had hidden were the exception.

“Something’s wrong?” Anya asked carefully.

“He’s already started healing.” Dr. Armani grimaced, shaking her head. “The wound was healing around the bullet, which made it harder to extract. He’ll be conscious within an hour, I predict, and back on his feet within a few days, but the bruising has gone bone-deep. He’s going to be growling for a while.”

“He growls anyway,” Anya stated. “Can I see him?”

“I need to talk to him first,” Brim protested. “He’s going to have questions I need to answer.

He’ll have orders to keep Base moving effectively.”

Anya turned back to him slowly. “I’ll see him first. Base is covered for the moment with all security protocols enacted until further word from Del-Rey, myself or you. You can allow me five minutes before he turns back into the big, bad Coyote.”

“The big, bad Coyote returns the moment he opens his eyes,” Armani snorted. “I do want to keep an eye on him. The branch he landed on nearly punctured vital organs. His Coyote genetics still aren’t familiar enough to me. White blood counts, hormonal levels, shift in the mating hormones.” She shook her head. “Even heart rate and pulse are different from Wolf Breeds. I’m flying in the dark with him.”

“He’ll heal,” Brim challenged her. “He always does.”

Anya nodded at the doors. “I want to see him now.”

“Anya, I need in there first,” Brim countered her again.

“Now, Dr. Armani.” Anya ignored him.

“Mates come first, Brim,” Armani told him. “Come on, Coya, I’ll show you to your mate.” She turned back to her, and they pushed through the surgery room doors. “While you’re here, its time for your hormonal shot. We need to do that before you go in to him. We don’t want to forget it.”

Anya paused. She stared at the doctor as she let herself mentally scan her body and its reactions.

For eight months a part of her had felt almost dead inside. She attributed that to the hormone, and she realized she didn’t want to feel it any longer. She knew what she intended to do; she didn’t need the hormone shot any longer. Del-Rey would ensure she didn’t hurt, because he would ensure she was taken often.

“No more shots,” she said softly as Armani arched her brows.

“You know what will happen,” she told her. “It could happen in phases or it could slam into you, catching you unaware. Be certain, Anya.”

“I’m certain.”

As Anya stepped into the recovery room and stared at Del-Rey stretched out on the white hospital bed, she affirmed that decision. She was ready to take her place, ready to accept what she had once thought she could never accept.

Right now, she had a hard time believing he was hurt in any way.

The sheet covered bandages; the raw scrapes and scratches on his face and upper torso were already healing. Coyotes, her father had once told her, were a sheer work of art. Their genetics were exceptional. They healed faster. They ran faster. They could process information faster and make decisions faster than any other Breed. Then he would shake his head and say, “Too bad they’re still just killers. They could have been a benefit to mankind rather than soulless beings created to kill.”

The scientists, soldiers and trainers that oversaw Breeds didn’t see them as possessing a soul. Not Wolf, Feline nor Coyote. But the Coyotes least of all. For more than a century human scientists had worked to find a way to eradicate what they called the human genetic that promoted a conscience. And they thought they had found that in the Coyotes. The animals were scavengers

—primal, brutal. And for a while it seemed as though the Breeds created from them were as well.

She touched Del-Rey’s arm, amazed at the heat radiating from it. She lifted her gaze to the doctor. “He’s running a fever?”

Dr. Armani shook her head. “Not like you or I would. The heat is part of the healing abilities. I’d be worried if it wasn’t there, though it’s higher than normal. I suspect it has something to do with the off-the-chart mating hormones racing through his blood.”

“Did you give him anything for it?”

“No. He’s already made certain his files were notated. At no time is he to be given hormonal treatments himself. He refuses. But, most male Breeds do.”

“They’d rather suffer?” She remembered the pain herself, the brutal, soul-suffering pain that stole control from the mind and made her a creature of lust and little more.

“It’s different for male Breeds than female mates,” Armani told her. “The females suffer the pain, the need for a hormone that isn’t natural to their body. Like a withdrawal from a narcotic, only worse. Male Breeds are more aggressive, more territorial. The constant lust isn’t as painful, but it has no cycle. Females go into mating heat, then it eases for periods of time, only to return. Rather like ovulation. For the males, that need never goes away. One of the males told me it’s like having a dagger continually stabbed into his balls, the need to release is so imperative.

Masturbation only makes it worse. The scent or taste of another woman’s lust is so distasteful they can’t find release there either.”

“Another person’s touch is excruciating for female mates.” Anya remembered that well. “Is it the same for the male mates?”

“Not to the same extent as it is for the females. No Breed male mate that I know of has ever attempted to have sex away from his mate. Some have waited years. In some the mating heat finally eased. It’s almost as though each mating is individual, Anya. But the physical reactions in the male Breeds aren’t well understood simply because most of them refuse to discuss them or allow tests to control them. The mating heat is their affirmation somehow. A who-and-what-they-are type thing.” She shrugged, as though helpless to explain it.

“It gives me a soul.” Del-Rey’s rough, scratchy voice surprised them both.

Anya looked down at him, realizing she had been stroking his arm.

“You would have to get yourself hurt.” She had to force back a wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. “So much for seducing you tonight, huh?”

Surprise was reflected in his eyes. “If I’d known you had that planned, I would have stayed with the limo.”

“Liar,” she laughed softly.

“Where’s Brim?” he asked then. “I need to make sure Base is secured and on lockdown.”

“Taken care of.”

He exhaled heavily. “I knew I could count on him.”

She pressed her lips together and clenched her teeth at the comment.

“Get a transport ready.” He turned to Armani then. “I’ll be ready to go back to Base in an hour.”

“I hate Breeds,” Armani muttered. “You need to be under observation. It’s the only way I can get any damned information to work on you again later, Del-Rey. You’re not helping me here.”

“I have a base to run,” he told her. “I promise, next wounded soldier, you can have him for a week.”

She snorted at that. “Yeah. Those berserkers? No, thank you.”

Anya stood silently. She ached to touch him again. To push his hair back from his forehead. To wrap her arms around him or something. She ached to do something.

“I need to see Brim,” he told her again. “Could you call him in here?”

Anya swallowed tightly and pushed back the hurt.

The seducer, the man who had kissed her and claimed his worth was tied to her, didn’t need her here. He needed his second-in-command, which is what Anya should have been. She was his coya, automatically second-in-command. Until she had denied the position.

She stepped back slowly. “Sure. I’ll get him.”

Anger surged inside her. Fear. Hurt. She pushed it back and tamped it down. She fought to keep her expression, her emotions, contained so he wouldn’t so much as scent the pain that bloomed inside her.

She had refused the title of coya while he was on base. She had no right, no right to be hurt and angry that he would want to talk to Brim rather than her. He was the alpha leader. There were things he had to do, assurances he needed that Base was operational and secure while he was outside of it and weak. It was those damned animal genetics. That was all it was. Security over emotion. All that good stuff.

She pushed through the doors as Brim straightened from the wall and gave her a piercing look.

“He’s waiting on you.” Her smile was tight. “I’m returning to Base. Please let me know when you return with him. Emma!” Her voice sharpened as she turned to her bodygaurds.

Emma and Ashley both stood watching her strangely.

“I’m heading back to Base.”

She headed for the exit, striding quickly through the corridors and up the incline into the entrance area. She kept her head high, her shoulders straight, and she didn’t cry. She wanted to.

She needed to. But not the first tear fell.

Del-Rey stared at the door, a frown on his face at the subtle, barely discernible scent of feminine anger and pain that lingered behind Anya. Now, that didn’t make sense.

He turned to Dr. Armani. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was glaring at him.

“I hate Breed males,” she told him, eyes narrowed, feminine outrage filling her gaze.

“What the hell is wrong with every damned woman in the world this month?” he muttered.

“What the hell did I do?”

“You didn’t do a damned thing,” she stated harshly. “Not one damned thing, Alpha Delgado. And that just might be what gets your balls in a wringer and your ass in a sling. And when it happens, I think I want to sell tickets to the event.”

With that, she swept out of the room, passing Brim as he entered. The other man stared at Del-Rey, perplexed. “What the fuck?” He questioned the alpha, “Being your charming self?”

To that he could only shake his head. What the fuck just about described it.