“The door’s locked, Cabal,” Ely informed him, not for the first time.
Cabal continued to stand with his back to them, his head tilted as Tanner took the syringe.
“The upper arm works fine, Tanner,” Ely instructed him.
With two fingers, Tanner stretched the flesh tight; then he laid the auto-syringe against her skin. There was barely a sensation of heat before he was lifting it away and handing it back to Ely.
“And these hormones do what?” Scheme asked tiredly.
“They ease the mating heat. I’ll have the capsules prepared by morning. One each day, with food if you don’t mind,” Ely ordered. “The mating heat can leave you defenseless without it, unable to function under even the most peaceful circumstances, let alone the surprises we sometimes get at Sanctuary.”
“The examination is finished now,” Ely announced. “You can dress and leave.”
Scheme slid from the cot.
“Scheme.” Ely stopped her as she moved to step away. Turning back to the other woman, Scheme watched as the doctor’s gaze flickered with indecision. “It was very brave of you, what you’ve done for the past ten years.”
“Brave?” Scheme shook her head at the word. “It wasn’t bravery, Dr. Morrey, it was fear. He won’t stop until the world bows to its knees before the Genetics Council. That’s what I fear. Bravery had nothing to do with it.”
She had been sired by a monster. A creature so evil, so immoral, that even she couldn’t make sense of it.
Breeds were animals, he always said. Creations. They had no souls and therefore they felt nothing but topical pain. They were weapons, tools, and as such had no rights, not even that of a peaceful death.
“However you define it.” Ely shrugged. “It took an incredible amount of courage. And we thank you for it.”
And that made Scheme highly uncomfortable. They were thanking her for what? For the Breeds that had died because she wasn’t fast enough, smart enough or deceptive enough to save them? She didn’t need thanks for what she had done, because there was much much more that she had been unable to do.
But rather than arguing the point, she only nodded tightly before moving behind the privacy screens to remove the hospital gown and dress. She pulled on the light gray sweats emblazoned with Breeds Rule across the front of the shirt and pushed the sleeves up on her arm impatiently.
Rather than focusing on Cyrus Tallant and what she couldn’t change, Scheme chose to focus instead on the irritation rising inside her. She began with the clothes Tanner had brought in for her. If she didn’t focus on something mundane, then she would lose the last shreds of her control over the worry and fear that somehow she was going to fail in saving David Lyons, just as she had failed in saving her own child.
So she thought about the sweats. Something she never, ever wore. She hated scratchy materials. Sweats were just scratchy. She pulled the ultra-soft velvety socks over her feet and hoped she could find some decent clothes today.
Soft materials soothed her. They caressed her with comfort. They endured and gave her joy.
“I want to go shopping.” She stepped from the curtained area and faced Tanner and Cabal. “I need clothes.”
Ely’s gaze raked over her as she stepped from behind the screen. “The sweats look fine.”
“The sweats don’t feel fine.” She pulled at the snug, scratchy material. “I need something soft. Where are my clothes?” She looked at Tanner.
He grimaced. “Cabal didn’t bring them.”
Cabal wiped his hand down his face, obviously hiding a smile as he glanced away from her.
She leveled a dark look on Cabal.
“My little striped kitty,” she crooned. “You are dead meat.”
His brow arched.
She wasn’t comfortable with Cabal playing her mate as well, but as long as he was, she could at least have some fun with it. Her chances at light entertainment were rapidly dwindling.
She caught Ely’s surprised look. “You haven’t seen the stripes?” She opened her eyes wide. Obviously, Ely hadn’t seen Cabal without his shirt on. “They’re amazingly erotic.”
And if she wasn’t mistaken, the lightest of blushes was tinting Cabal’s cheeks. Interesting. After all it was reported he and Tanner had done with their women, he could still blush.
“I’ve seen the stripes,” Ely sighed. “I just hoped Jonas was wrong and these two hellions hadn’t mated the same woman. Sharing is all well and good, but this just takes it to the extreme.”
“You seem disapproving, Ely.” Scheme frowned. “This mating heat stuff is biological, right? It’s not like they could help it. Or can they?” She gave both men a suspicious gaze, though her gaze lingered longest on Tanner and promised the most retribution.
“The Breeds have no control over the mating heat, Scheme,” Ely agreed as she crossed her arms over the front of her white lab coat and watched the three of them with a frown. “This was just something I had hoped wouldn’t happen. Especially in light of the fact that I knew neither of them would allow me to examine them, or to take their blood.”
Cabal’s expression became closed, Tanner’s resigned.
Now, this was interesting. “Why?” she asked both of them.
“I don’t like needles.” They both answered at the same time. A very well-rehearsed answer.
“Hmm,” she murmured disbelievingly. “You can explain that one in the room. While I’m ordering my clothes.”
If she was going to take the chance of dying by an assassin’s hand, she was going to do it in silk, not in scratchy sweats. A person needed a little style, even in death.
“Ely, I hope you don’t need to do this again,” Tanner remarked as Scheme headed for the door. His voice didn’t sound comforting.“One week,” Ely announced. “But by then, it will be easier for her.
Tanner grimaced. “It better be.”
“Every Breed mate has a weekly examination, no matter what. I’ll send you the schedule for the next few months in a couple of days.”
Taking Scheme’s arm, Tanner moved to the door as Cabal unlocked it and ushered her into the hall.
“Where now?” She had been dragged from one end of the stately mansion to another today. The century-old plantation home had had several wings added to it and, even now, was being added to by the Breeds. Its sprawling, graceful design accepted the additions easily, but made for a hell of a walk when you were being shown around.
“You said you needed some clothes,” Tanner reminded her a little too smoothly.
“Yeah. I did. But you didn’t seem inclined to go shopping at the time.”
His hand pressed warningly against her back. As though she didn’t know how to watch what she said. She wasn’t a complete moron. She had survived betraying her father for ten years, that should qualify her as rocket scientist intelligent.
“So where do I get to go shopping?” she asked him, her voice sweet, her gaze promising vengeance if he didn’t stop with the big bad Breed routine.
“What’s your favorite clothier?” he asked as they moved into the first floor of the estate.
“Vilado,” she answered, naming the exclusive Italian designer she had a fondness for.
“Barring Vilado.”
Now, didn’t that just figure?
“Why don’t you just tell me my choices?” She sighed as he led her to the curved staircase leading to the second floor and their suite of rooms. Behind them, she heard Cabal snicker.
Tanner named off three less than satisfactory choices. The major chains were overpriced and underquality. She pursed her lips in dissatisfaction but reminded herself that she could at least find a few outfits that would make her feel less like an orphan castoff.
“You can give me your sizes and we’ll call the outlet in Richmond. I’ll have one of the pilots fly in and pick the clothes up. They’ll be back by the end of the evening,” he announced as they stepped into their room.
And came up very short in surprise.
“Oh, there you are, Tanner.” Frazzled, appearing slightly off balance and guilty as hell, Tanner’s female assistant, Jolian Brandeau, straightened from the papers laid out on a table that sat in the middle of the small sitting area just inside the room. Jolian, or Joley, was a regular at news conferences with Tanner, though she rarely had much to say.
Tanner pushed Scheme behind him quickly, his body tensing, a growl rumbling in his throat as the dark-haired assistant paled, her blue eyes blinking owlishly behind a pair of slender-framed glasses.
“Jolian, what the hell are you doing in here?” Cabal came around them, his body vibrating with anger as he faced the short, rounded young woman who stared back at him with a flicker of her own anger.
That anger rapidly receded as she blinked once more, her gaze then staring back at them with a hint of confusion.
“I was looking for the notes Tanner had done a few weeks ago on the interview he wanted to do with National News.” She gripped her hands in front of her, her fingers twining together nervously. “He said they were in here.” She waved her hand nervously around the room.
“And you couldn’t ask me for them, why?” Tanner questioned brutally.
She licked her lips as Scheme forced her way around Tanner and watched the young Breed.
Jolian Brandeau. She was a panther Breed that the French labs had created and had declared a failure in nearly every area she had been tested in. Scheme recognized her easily. She was always silent when she accompanied Tanner on an interview or during a news release. Barely five-four, rounded when other Breeds were lithe and well toned. Scheme believed she remembered the girl’s age as twenty-four, as well as her training: infiltration.
Tanner and Cabal obviously remembered it as well.
“You don’t have clearance to be upstairs, Jolian,” Tanner reminded her harshly.
Jolian tucked her ribbon-straight hair behind one ear, shifted and let her gaze fall to the floor. “No, sir,” she whispered before flicking a miserable glance toward Cabal.
She didn’t even act like a Breed. She acted like a soft, cuddly little coed. If this girl was a spy, then she was the least likely spy Scheme had ever laid her eyes on.
“I didn’t want to mess the interview up, Cabal.” She turned to Cabal rather than facing Tanner. “I thought I could get the notes. I forgot them before Tanner left, and I knew he would be upset.”
“He’s even more upset now.” Tanner’s voice lowered to a primal rasp as the bedroom door suddenly opened and Dawn stalked in dressed in her enforcer uniform, several other female Breeds flanking her, weapons drawn.
“You set off your alarm, Tanner?” Dawn stared at Tanner in confusion, as did Scheme. Where the hell was an alarm?
“Oh God,” Jolian whispered, staring at Cabal beseechingly now. “I swear to God, Cabal, I was just looking for those notes.”
Jolian looked like she was going to start crying any second.
“She was up here without clearance.” There wasn’t a shade of remorse in Tanner’s voice. “Take her downstairs until I can question her.”
“Jolian?” Dawn stared at Tanner in shock before staring back at the young Breed. “Searching your room?”
“Cabal?” Jolian whispered his name faintly. “I was just looking for those notes.”
Scheme glanced at Cabal. His expression was closed, cold as he stared back at her.
He repeated Tanner’s order. “Take her downstairs, Dawn. And put a guard on her.”
Jolian’s face went white, her blue eyes darkening with something akin to agony. Scheme knew that look well. Betrayal. If she was a spy, then there was no damned wonder she had stayed hidden in Sanctuary for so many years.
“Come on, Jo.” Dawn shook her head as she gripped the girl’s arm, confusion and a shadow of disbelief in her eyes as she glanced at the shorter girl. “Let’s go downstairs. I’m sure we’ll figure it all out.”