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Now that was damned unusual. So much for getting samples in the heli-jet.
But it wasn’t the first time it had happened.
Getting Breed doctors in to take care of Isabelle Martinez after her attempted abduction by Holden Mayhew had been nearly impossible.
Like Liza, he was beginning to wonder just what the fuck was going on.
Tightening his arms around the woman he knew in his soul was his mate, and swallowing the taste of the hormone easing from the glands beneath his tongue, Stygian lifted her gently into his arms and moved to the bedroom Chelsea had informed Emma was Liza’s.
He wanted her away from the commotion and the knowledge of the dead bodies being removed from Claire’s room. He wanted her calm and warm and able to talk.
He wanted to know why his mate was suddenly attracting Genetics Council Coyotes and soldiers when he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that for the first time in his life, someone was exactly as she seemed.
Faults.
A dark past.
Mistakes made that he knew caused her pain now.
It was all there.
And she would be all his.
Soon.
CHAPTER 9
She had to be dreaming.
Liza pinched the tender flesh on the inside of her arm.
Fuck, that hurt.
Looking down at the mark, she glared at the reddened area of skin the small wound had left.
Okay, so a pinch could actually hurt in a dream. She would go with that.
What else could prove it was a dream?
When she was younger, she had tricks she had used, just to assure herself that she was actually alive and not just a figment of someone’s imagination.
Or one of her parents’ nightmares.
She’d picked at her cuticles until they were raw.
That had always assured her she was actually a real person.
She looked at her nails.
Damn, her cuticles looked good too. Nice and healthy in ways they hadn’t been when she was a teenager.
What else could she do?
There wasn’t a lot left. After all, there came a point when she had to admit she was either asleep or awake. Surely she would reach that point soon.
If it hurt, it was supposed to be real.
Right?
