Dawn Endeavor 5: Grayson's Gamble (8 page)

* * * *

Gray didn’t know what to think. He had a terrible feeling about Bas moments before half a dozen humans with guns attacked. The dumb-asses didn’t realize their rounds wouldn’t penetrate his skin. It took him little time to knock them unconscious but not before reading their minds.

A part of the plan to delay him and Bas while they captured Al Ross.
The humans were part of a security force combing through the mountains. Apparently the lab that had created
Alison
Ross wanted her back. A female Circ, hunted by rogues and men out to use her for what they could before she turned completely into the mutant they feared would make her unsuitable to breed.

No wonder the woman didn’t want to be found.
But was she amassing a rogue Circ army, or was she a victim? The men didn’t seem to know.

And Gray didn’t care. He felt Bas’s pain as if his own, then a drugged need to find the scent clouding his mind. The thoughts came like the wind, there and gone. But as Gray raced miles to the eastern side of their perimeter, Bas’s cry came through the radio. Gray put on a burst of speed.

Only to be too late.

Four dead rogues littered one section of the woods.
As did a patch of blood that smelled like his partner.
Grief and rage brought his beast to the forefront, the notion his mate might be injured or near death intolerable. A loud psychic call to Bas’s mind came back empty. Using his preternatural gifts, Gray followed the barely there scent and subtle markings in the woods to a set of footprints. He followed the tracks that indicated a female, or a male with smaller feet, had taken something heavy with her.

Bas
.
His beast snarled.
The Circ has Bas.

And then the trail just ended. No more scent. No more clues left behind in the woods.

He howled in fury.
A warning and a promise to anyone stupid enough to come between him and Bas.
Gray felt the vestiges of civilization leave him and gave his beast the head he needed. With another roar, he started a deeper search using his mind. One way or another, he’d find his mate. And death to the one who’d taken him.

* * * *

Ali was glad she’d taken the time to mask her trail after stashing the rogue in her home. Not the safest place for her to take him, but it had the best security as well as restraints even a mutant couldn’t escape. Instinct told her to keep him close.

If he didn’t bleed out before she returned, she’d do her best to heal him and… Then what? Her beast provided her several detailed pictures of how best to take what she needed, and the heat in Ali’s body swarmed her from her core to the tips of her limbs. The need within her for a Circ overwhelmed, to the point she ached to be near him again.
To touch him.
She knew she’d eventually have to destroy him, but she could play with him for a bit.

Excited about the prospect, she returned to her home. Night had fallen, and she would make the most of the darkness and the soundproof sanctuary under the cabin her grandfather had left her. Once inside, she forced herself to take her time. No need to rush to the enemy so soon. Ali took a long hot shower and scrubbed the dirt and flecks of mutant blood off her hands. Though she’d shot three of them, she’d been forced to kill the fourth with a blade when the first bullet didn’t take, her bullet not close enough to the spinal cord to sever it the first time.

After lathering her hair with
a lavender
soap that made her feel at home, she cleaned thoroughly and left no patch of skin untouched. As she washed, her breasts felt heavy, her nipples sensitive.
And there, between her legs.
She throbbed.

The scent of the male filled her mind, and though she’d shifted back into her human form, her beast quivered at the thought of the strong Circ downstairs.

Ali toweled off and dressed in a loose pair of flannel pajama pants and a shirt, foregoing underclothes. Normally she’d wear a bra at least, but a part of her needed to flaunt her assets before the male, to seek his approval.

The foreign thought stopped her in her tracks. “Seek his approval?”

Angry at her beast for growing soft, she decided to leave him alone until morning. Better for her that he died tonight from his wounds, none of which she’d inflicted.
Except she’d heard him call for
Gray
.
Not just a color but a person, apparently. She needed to know if his friend would be joining them anytime soon.

Annoyed, she stomped to the rug covering the floor panel hiding the stairs and tugged on a loop. The rug and panel rose, and she walked down into the shadows and darkness. A few lanterns gave enough light to see into the tunnel that led to the sole room underground. From the room, an escape tunnel had been dug that led up a few hundred yards from the cabin. It too was hidden by a bookcase on the wall. Her last refuge should the bastards find her place.

“Gray?” The low drawl made her shiver. “Ross?
That you?”
He coughed and groaned, and she heard the rattle of his breath.
An infection, most likely.

Her beast yearned to heal him. To taste him again and learn why this particular male smelled so right.

“I’m Alison Ross.” Ali left the corridor and entered the room, bathed in the low glow of the lantern on a nearby table. “Who the hell are you?”

“Sebastian Decker.” He coughed again, no longer a beast but human. The dryness in the air probably irritated his throat. Despite what most people thought when they saw snowcapped mountains, the Cascade Range and Bend weren’t wet. High desert lay to the east. If Ali didn’t drink enough, her feet cracked and her lips chapped something awful.

A glance at Sebastian’s lips showed him hydrated or new to the area. She bet on new.

The breadth of him shocked her.
So muscular, even in his man’s form.
He had dark brown hair, as rich as the earth in the mountains. Calluses on his hands warned her he wasn’t soft, even if she hadn’t noticed all the muscle on his frame. He had a nice mouth with full lips that would crook when he smiled.
Handsome, boy-next-door good-looking, and physically fit.
God,
was he.

She met his gaze again and flushed. He’d noticed her study and seemed to approve. The bastard lay manacled on a bed, bound by his wrists and ankles. Yet he made her uncomfortable, and she didn’t know why.

Clear blue eyes widened as he stared at her, and it took him some time to look away from her eyes, which never looked human, whether woman or beast. But now his regard shifted to her chest and stayed there.

He licked his lips. “You’re Ross. I was told you were a male. Big mistake, that.”

She couldn’t stop herself from noticing the visible bulge between his legs. He wore different clothes from the standard Circ khaki the rogues normally arrived in. Stretchy material made specifically for men who shifted into larger beings.

Sebastian wore dark, ripped pants with cargo pockets that had been filled with ammunition she’d gladly helped herself to in addition to his pistol. A newer model than the one she had, it looked impressive, and she couldn’t wait to try it out.

After I try
him
out
. Her beast purred in her breast, and Sebastian heard it.

He dragged his gaze from her stiff nipples and looked her in the face once more. “You’re different.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not a rogue.”

“No, but you’re Circ.” She shrugged.
“Same difference to me.
You come to kill me, I kill you first. Too bad Trenton still doesn’t get the message.”

“Trenton?”

She didn’t want to talk about her dead father’s friend.
Prick extraordinaire, Dr. Caleb Trenton.
She wanted to… Her attention caught and held on the sluggish drop of blood soaking the neck of his sweater. As much as she wanted to let him lie there aching, some part of her didn’t like him in pain.

“Where does it hurt?”

He let out a laugh, surprising her. “Where doesn’t it hurt?” An awkward pause as they both glanced at his cock that had yet to go down. “Well, there, I guess. God, this is embarrassing. I’ll never live this down.”

“You’ll be lucky to live at all,” she murmured, fascinated with his arousal. Unlike all the others, he smelled healthy, despite his wounds. No trace of infection as she’d thought before. No madness either, just warm,
soothing,
and sweet male.

“So do that thing and heal me, like you did before.”

She didn’t realize he’d understood what she’d done. “What?”

“When you licked me.
You cleared my head and took the pain. Lick me all over, anywhere you want. I won’t mind.” The teasing sparkle in his eyes took her aback. He was erect but didn’t seem overeager to fuck her. Instead he used humor.
To disarm her, maybe?
Yet he didn’t seem to be anything but genuine.
Very, very strange.
He didn’t fit the usual mold of her enemy.

“Shut up,” she said, just to say something. He chuckled again but silenced when she flashed inch-long claws at him from her fingers. Dragging her nails against his sweater, she cut through the fabric with ease and pushed and pulled the material from his body. To her odd relief, most of his wounds seemed healed but for the few still healing.

“I’m close but not a hundred percent,” he offered. “Not like you.” His voice deepened. “You look perfect. Not a mark on you.”

He didn’t seem to mind the black streaks that pulsed on her forearms, or the hellish eyes that stared at her anytime she looked in a mirror.
“Like feline pupils dipped in blood,”
one of the rogues who’d once captured her had remarked. Right before she’d gutted him and run far, far away.

“Can’t say the same for you.”
She didn’t like the blood all over him, because though most was his, some belonged to the rogues and mutants from the woods. Ali left him and returned moments later with a pot of hot water from upstairs. Solar panels gave her the luxury of electricity and hot water while keeping her free of a paper trail.

“Where did you go?”

“I’m right here.” Annoyed that she liked him asking after her, she found a clean cloth nearby and washed his chest.

He watched her as she ran the towel over his flesh. “That feels good.”

“Wonderful. I want you to feel great before I kill you.”

“So pleasant.
You sure you don’t know Gray?”

“Who?”
She frowned when he chuckled, feeling the butt of a joke she didn’t understand.

“You’ll meet him soon enough, I’d say.”

Silence passed as she washed him. She used a clean part of his sweater to dry him off. Then she trailed a hand over his skin, feeling the uneven break of a few ribs that seemed to mend right under her palm.

“Hurts, but it’s hot too.
Right where you’re touching me.”
Sebastian’s thick voice warned her to back away. “But you’re making it worse too.” He took a deep breath and inhaled, his nostrils quivering. “Oh wow. Alison, tell me what you’re wearing. You smell so good.”

His eyes
changed
and
changed
back as she watched him watching her. The urge to lean closer and taste him again tickled.

“Do it.”

She licked her lips, aware he knew her intent because she couldn’t look away from his firm lips. A subtle shove knocked her off balance and over his chest. She righted herself and found her lips an inch from his.

“Kiss me,” he ordered. All tied up, flat on his back, and growling commands.

“I will if I want to.” She paused, wishing she sounded more in charge and less breathless and in lust. “And damn it. I want to, so shut up and lie still.” To her surprise, he did.

But the minute her lips touched his, she knew she’d made the biggest mistake of her life.

Bas had entered a kind of heaven and hell from which only one end would free him. So long as the minx kissing him let him come, he’d do anything she wanted.
Anything.

He moaned under the onslaught of her lips, in charge and enslaved at the same time. He’d move his lips. She’d move with him,
then
take over the kiss. His tongue had invaded and swept through her mouth, licking up the sweet syrup of need that covered the unusual female. Only with Gray had he experienced such mind-blowing lust.
And look at how that turned out.

And then he felt her nipples against his chest, the hard little nubs he’d been unable to look away from when she’d entered the room. Talk about a handful of soft, round woman. She made him remember why he could never commit to one sex over the other.

His ribs protested when she pressed against him, but his beast took the brunt of the hurt, turning it into an echo of need. Painful pleasure—the one vice that got him off as nothing could.

He’d broken a few ribs, but in the time since she’d brought him here and bound him to this bed, he’d healed. Slowly, but enough that only twinges of pain remained. He still didn’t know what she’d done to him. By all accounts, he should be much weaker than he felt.

Her little tongue swept over his again, and he sucked on it, loving the taste of wildness, woman, and hunger. It had to be her. Her magic, her Circ skill, whatever made her so special to the rogues hunting her. She’d healed him. She made him want.