Blood Mate: The Project Rebellion, Book 2 (27 page)

She wouldn’t let him kill the man she loved.

She accepted the thought finally. That she was in love with Darce. In love with the irritating, cocky, sexy-as-hell Lycan who’d told her she was his the first time that they’d met. She was his, she always had been—she just hadn’t known it. He was a Lycan, sure, and no match for a Blood. That side of her rebelled against the thought, even while the other half, the half that was whatever the fuck was wrong with her right now, accepted it immediately. It felt right. Perfect. Meant to be. Which meant she wasn’t going to let this piece of shit Hybrid kill him. Just like in chess, the queen protected the king.

Even if it meant laying down her own life.

Perhaps feeling death coming for him, Steele looked over his shoulder at the last minute. Surprise flowed across his altered features but she was on him. Snarling with rage, she pummeled, stabbing through the thickened hide with her talons. Longer and stronger than they’d ever been, they slid easily even through the blackened skin of this new form, the hot rush of his blood flowing over her fingers and tantalizing her with its heady scent.

She ignored it, snarling again when Steele dropped to the floor and started to roll. They tumbled and the air was knocked from her lungs as he tried to throw her off his back. It didn’t work; she wasn’t going to be dislodged. She had her legs locked around his waist and a full set of talons buried deep in the fleshy part of his shoulder as she used the other to give him more ventilation through his ribcage. He howled, staggered to his feet. Turning, he surged backward a few steps, then slammed her into one of the support struts for the cage.

The back of her skull connected sharply. Stars exploded over her vision, her blows weaker as she was forced to cling on for grim death. She couldn’t let go now. If she went down, then Darce and the poor little human aide were dead.

She couldn’t let that happen.

“Blood… Try blood!” She yelled to the other woman, desperate for anything to get Darce back on his feet and into the fight. Between them, they might have a chance to take this fucker down. After Steele, getting out of here was going to be a walk in the park.

After Steele,
anything
would be a walk in the park.

She didn’t get chance to see if the other woman got the message. Steele reached over his shoulder, his claws tearing through her arm and up to snarl under her collar-bone. His talon scraped along the underside, dragging a cry of pain from her lips. With a roar, he yanked her off his back and threw her with ease against the side of the cage. She closed her eyes as she sailed through the air, her body limp to try and limit the damage.

The theory was good, but the execution failed.

She crashed into the mesh—or rather her shoulders and her legs did, but the center of her back hit one of the concrete pillars holding the whole thing in place. There was a crack, the wrong sound loud in the sudden silence and she dropped to the sand.

She tried to scramble out of the way but warmth and numbness spread over her lower body. She couldn’t move her legs, not even to move out of the way as Steele raced toward her, his claws outstretched and glinting under the lights. Death came for her with sharp fangs and red eyes.

She had seconds to react, but fuck if she was going out without a fight. Setting her back against the mesh, she hissed in defiance. Steele rolled into her, hands extended. His claws pierced her abdomen at the same time she drove hers through his ribcage.

Blood poured over her hand. Hot. Wet. Thick.

His heart beat against her claws, like it was irritated by the intrusion. At the same time his sliced through her gut, tearing like a dull knife through warm bread. The red eyes above hers started to dim, the weird bat-like features receding to leave a ravaged human face in their wake.

He was dying. Her blow had been a mortal one. Her vision started to gray around the edges. So had his, but she’d achieved what she’d set out to do. Darce was safe and that was all that mattered.

She’d saved the man she loved.

Chapter Eighteen

 
“Yeah, got stuck out on one of the back roads. Useless piece of shit stalled and it took us a while to get the damn thing going again…”

Hidden in the back of their stolen truck, crammed in between Thom and Lilly with Richards opposite, Sanders held his breath as Jack’s easy laugh filtered through from the cab.

“Tell me about it. Been on the fritz for a couple of days. The pool guys’ll have a cow. They’re already pushed to the max with repairs.”

Sanders bit back his snort while the Captain exchanged pleasantries with the guards on the gate and put the truck in motion again. The pool mechanics would have more than a cow if they saw the state of the truck, what with Palmer in the front holding the passenger door in place. After Lilly had ripped the door clean off and its madcap tumble across the sun-baked dirt, at first it had been too twisted and bent to even sit back in place properly.

It had taken three wolves jumping up and down on it to get it back to anywhere near flat. By that time the hinges had been little more than twisted remnants, no use for holding anything—never mind an armored door. Hence Palmer’s current door holding duties, which he’d whined and bitched about since they’d set off, trying to convince Blake—who sat next to him—to switch places. A low growl from the bigger wolf had ended the conversation quickly.

The truck trundled down the road; the potholes and generally shit surface would have clued Sanders in they were on base even if he’d been dropped in blindfolded and with a peg on his nose. The four Lycans in the back—Thom, Richards, Lilly and Sanders—clung to the sides to avoid being thrown around like rocks in a sack. They turned a corner and Lilly lost her grip, sliding to the side with an “Oommph.” Sanders shoved his arm out straight, palm flat against the bulkhead between the cabin and the back, pinning her in place so she didn’t slide around the back of the truck. The rest of the pack was used to travelling in the things, and adjusting to the movement was second nature. But not for Lilly, and if she got so much as a bruise on her tender skin, Jack would blow a gasket. He hadn’t wanted his delicate little mate to come along in the first place but Lilly had won the argument. Again. Sanders hid his smile at the thought. Oh, how the mighty had fallen…

The truck slowed to a stop. Sanders ducked his head. The silhouettes of long, low buildings told him they were right outside the Lycan pens. He gave the enclosures their correct names, refusing to call them barracks anymore. They were pens to keep animals in. Animals like him and his pack.

Thom, nearest the back of the trunk, shot the three of them a wink and slipped out into the darkness. He still squeaked when he spoke, but the job he’d been assigned didn’t require his conversational skills—just his ability to apply bloody and brutal violence.

Sanders lifted his head and drew a breath, and rolled it over his tongue. Five packs in residence if the scents on the wind were accurate. That was good. The more the merrier. Even if all they did was run amok on the base and try and kill each other, it would distract the guards enough trying to get them back under control for the pack to sneak in and complete their mission.

The truck set off again, after pausing a few seconds to let Thom out, which could have been accounted for by shifting gear, or avoiding one of the deeper pot holes in the worn road. Even hitting one of those babies at a low speed was enough to fuck up a vehicle’s suspension.

Silence stretched as the truck rattled past the labs. First the Blood labs, then around and past the Lycan ones. At the RA labs, Jack slowed the truck again. Richards moved to the tailgate and paused to look back. Sanders felt his gaze but ignored it, studying his bare feet instead. Damn, he really should clip his toenails at some point. They were long, even for a wolf. And was that blood under the left little toenail? Perhaps when they were all out of this, he’d head to the nearest spa and get himself a few treatments.

Richards sighed, then took the cue and slipped out into the darkness to infiltrate the RA labs. Everyone on base knew the things were infected on command, with a new batch for each mission, but there were always a few kept in the labs on standby or for observation. Enough to keep the admin staff locked down nice and tight, while the guards were chasing their tails outside with the Lycans.

Almost on cue, howls filled the night air and the truck pulled away again. This time Jack didn’t stick to the on-base limit, but floored it. Sanders grabbed Lilly and held her tight while the vehicle careened around a corner, the door tumbling end over end behind them as they headed for the hangars.

“Brace!” he yelled a warning to Lilly a moment before they hit the fire-damaged hangar doors. He folded himself around her smaller form as the truck juddered and rolled before heading into a long slide that had them facing the opposite way to the one they’d entered. Almost before they’d slid to a stop, Sanders was moving, Lilly half a second behind him.

Reaching deep inside himself, he thought of sex. The slide of skin on skin, the grunts and groans, the rasp of stubble over his jaw when he kissed his partner…all the little things which turned sex from just fucking into something outstanding. He took it all and shoved it right through the door between him and his wolf.

The change ripped through him like wildfire—stronger and faster than he’d ever shifted before into his half-form. He’d only managed it once and lost it before the change was realized, but not this time. This time the form locked into place with a click of finality and he knew he had it. Knew he’d be able to switch forms at will.

It was dizzying. Exhilarating. Fucking a-
maz
-ing.

He howled just for the pleasure of it. Head and shoulders tipped back, he gave full reign to his voice. Jack and the others spilled from the front of the truck, shifting on the run. Sanders dropped his head and grinned when Jack ran past him. A spring in his step, Sanders sprinted to join the others as they streamed through the doors and down the stairs into the subterranean levels.

The pack avoided the elevator, all of them were wary of small metal boxes they could get trapped in, and raced down the stairs silently. Claws clicked on the concrete and linoleum as they followed the scent of blood and death. They reached the bottom of the stairs and found a long corridor. Sanders grunted. Random blood splatters decorated the walls. Human, Blood and Lycan. The shit had hit the fan in a big way down here, just like the SARAs had said. Which was to be expected with a breakout; the Project sure didn’t like to lose its toys.

A squad of guards turned the corner just before the pack reached it, the wolves looming over the men. Four against a pack of Lycans? Suicide. Before the humans eyes had finished widening, the pack attacked. They didn’t even get chance to shout. One tried to run. He didn’t get far, run down by Palmer. Scarlet stained the walls. Sanders ran past, the pack streaming ahead as they searched for their taken teammate.

They reached a door and piled through it into a larger room with holding cages. A quick glance assured them they were all empty so the pack raced on, following the myriad scents. The best tracker in the group, Sanders was up front—all senses on alert as he turned his head this way and that, catching every scrap of information he could from the overload of scents. Buried deep within them was Darce’s. Sanders bit back his howl of triumph and he hit the next set of double doors ahead of the rest.

Gunfire shattered the air around him. A litany of curses rolling through his head, Sanders threw himself to the side, using a bank of electronic equipment for cover. Bullets tore into the machines, shattering monitors and sending sparks into the air. Wolves crowded in behind him, Jack’s bigger form curled protectively around Lilly’s. Sanders knew without asking the big alpha would walk into a hail of bullets to protect her. Longing pulled at Sanders’s heartstrings again but he banished the thought and watched when Jack gave rapid fire hand gestures, their field training more important now than ever since they couldn’t speak to convey information.

He snapped to, his attention on the room. The gunfire came from the other side from a cluster of guards who were herding a group of people out the door. Non Project, by the quick flash he got of their clothing—smart suits way above the pay-grade of anyone apart from the Colonel shouting orders as he, too, disappeared out of the door.

Sanders’s gaze slid from them to the cage in the middle of the room. For a moment shock froze him to the spot. Blood splattered the sand within the cage in decorative yet gory patterns. A woman crouched to one side. Arms wrapped around herself, she screamed over and over. Foster was slumped near to her, the sand around him scarlet. Sanders’s breath caught in his throat when he took in the still lines of the Lieutenant’s body. Sanders had seen death many times, in Iraq and Afghanistan before he’d been moved to the Project and that kind of utter stillness…that wasn’t good.

Foster coughed, groaning as he filled his lungs. Blood blossomed in the air again, thick and metallic. Breathing a sigh of relief, Sanders raced toward the cage, Jack and Lilly on his heels. His claws skittered against the concrete as he slid to a stop. A slash took out the bolts on the mesh door and then the thing was open, thrown aside by Jack. Sanders barreled through, toes digging into the sand as Foster struggled to his feet.

The guy was in a bad way—punctures, lacerations and deep claw marks scattered over his body. He wore blood like it was the new black, a grisly shirt that said more than words about what he’d been through. But it was the look in his eyes. The utter horror and pain as he looked past Sanders at the final two in the cage. Sanders recognized the woman. She was the Blood who had come after them at the hospital, but the man he didn’t know. The pair was locked in a fatal embrace, the man’s claws in the woman’s gut while hers pierced his chest.