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“You love the drama as well as the excitement each day brings now that you can join the often chaotic, but always surprising world of those who stand between worlds,” he told her, refuting her claim as he rose to his feet. “You are Breed, Cat, no matter how you were born. And when Wyatt calls Graeme’s identity into question when he can no longer cloak his Bengal scent merely reminds the director of the anomalies of Mating Heat and that the strength of your Breed scent is increasing with the emergence of your genetics. The dominant mate’s scent cloaks the other, and both change for it. Normally the male’s scent cloaks the female’s, but perhaps in this case, your rather fierce Bengal instinct is aware of the danger to your mate. That would explain why the Bengal scent would cloak a Lion’s. After all, it’s never happened before. Who is to refute it?”
As he strode to the door he slowly disappeared. Whatever the hell that black synthetic leather uniform he wore was created with, it completely shielded him, making even the huge spread of his wings invisible while flying.
A rush of breeze blew over her, indicating he’d lifted from the balcony in a surge of power to return to wherever he and his small group of winged Breeds hid.
She’d seen them fly once, deep within a hidden canyon where no eyes could see them other than those they allowed. She’d watched them train in aerial combat and had marveled at the grace and agility of such a huge wingspan. It had been incredible, a sight she’d marveled at for weeks.
With the rising conflict between Breeds and Raymond Martinez, though, those little outings had come to an end and only the most important meetings conducted face-to-face.
Such as this one.
In two nights’ time she would meet with Honor’s parents, give them the information she’d selected and the pictures that would lead them to their daughter. Honor deserved her parents.
Once, long ago, Cat had wondered why she hadn’t deserved parents. Her mother had died from a disease she’d refused to treat, one she’d passed on to her newborn daughter because of her refusal to acknowledge it.
There had been no father listed on her birth record. Her mother had been without any known family. Cat had been born alone in the world and would have died had Phillip Brandenmore not claimed her and brought her to the research center to test his new gene therapy.
It sometimes seemed she was just as alone now as she had been when she’d been born. Without family, but not totally without friends, it appeared. Hell, Keenan was a damned good friend to have too, not to mention a rather cool one.
A grin touched her lips.
“Take that, Ashley,” she murmured. “Bet you don’t have an Eagle for a buddy. All you have is Graeme.”
It might have been said defiantly, but the ache, the hurt that hadn’t abated, reminded her just how much she wished so many things had been different.
As that thought drifted through her mind, the distant scent of enraged Bengal drifted to her senses and it was coming closer. Fast.
Jumping for the bedroom door, she unlocked it quickly and, opening it, came face-to-face with a furious Graeme.
It wasn’t the maddened fury that brought out the Bengal to mark his eyes and his flesh. This was the Breed, the mate, who had somehow sensed more than he should have been able to sense.
“What the hell is your problem?” Stepping back, she allowed him to stalk into the room, watching his nostrils flare, wondering if he could detect Keenan’s scent even when she couldn’t.
Glaring at him, she crossed her arms over her breasts, waiting. He prowled around the room, a growl rumbling in his chest as she blinked at him in amazement.
“You’re starting to worry me,” she informed him with a glare. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Motion sensors on the balcony picked up movement, and it wasn’t you.” The growl in his voice was one that demanded not just answers, but the truth.
“Really?” Moving slowly to the balcony, she looked outside the open doors before turning back to him with an arch of her brows. “Well, it wasn’t me, but how would you know?”
“Who was it?” The snap in his voice caused her eyes to widen in surprise.
“Check your damned cameras, Graeme,” she snapped back at him. “Who the hell could get to my bedroom without you knowing about it now?”
Lying to him wasn’t preferred for some reason, she didn’t know why. No doubt he lied to her every chance he got. He was created to lie. He was a lie.
She could almost hear his teeth grinding at her question.
“No one should be able to get to your bedroom without detection,” he admitted, not in the least pleased to do so.
“Maybe you should check your electronics,” she suggested slowly, as though wary of his mood.
Screw his mood.
She was in a mood of her own.
“I checked my electronics.” Facing her fully, arms braced on his hips, he confronted her with a heavy frown. “What are you up to, Cat?”
