The Breed Next Door (Breeds #6)

The Breed Next Door (Breeds #6) Page 11

"He'll kill you." She clenched her fingers at her side, trying to think, to find a way to escape, to warn Tarek.

"He might try. He'll fail. We were very careful this time. He won't even be able to smell us." Evil, malicious. The taller of the two men stared down at her curiously as he held the weapon on her. "So tell me, what's it like to fuck an animal?" Lyra swallowed tightly. "Ask your wife."

He grunted at that, smiling mockingly. "Doesn't matter." He shrugged. "The scientists will get the answer." She had to warn Tarek.

Her gaze flicked to the entrance of the kitchen. He would be finished soon, coming down the stairs, unaware of the danger awaiting him. Unable to smell the threat.

She swallowed tightly.

The Council had tortured him for most of his life, treated him like an animal, refused him even the most basic human considerations.

He had never eaten homemade bread. Had never drunk real coffee. He didn't know how to cook, but from what her brothers had said, many of the Breed labs had been dens of filth and neglect. Yet he kept his home sparkling, free of dust, and took off his shoes at the door. He was a man desperate to live, to be free. A man who knew how to love despite the horrors he had known.

And now these two thought they were going to use her to kill him?

She couldn't, she wouldn't allow it.

He belonged to her now. He was her heart, her soul, and she couldn't imagine life without him. She would die without him. Think Lyra. Her eyes darted around her as the two watched her closely. Warn him. How could you warn him…

Smell. He could smell arousal. He could smell fear. Rather than tamping back the horror racing through her, the terror clogging her mind, she gave it free rein instead. She had to warn him…

Tarek stepped out of the shower, drying quickly before jerking clean sweatpants on and moving to the door to let Lyra know the shower was now free.

He stepped into the bedroom, frowning at the empty bed for a long second before his head raised slowly, a new, intrusive scent reaching his nostrils.

Fear.

He could smell it, sharp, warning, riding the soft trail of Lyra's unique scent. But there was nothing else. No other smell drifting through the bedroom door to give him an idea of what awaited him downstairs.

She was his mate, and he could feel the danger surrounding her pulsing in the air.

He jerked the cell phone from beside the bed and keyed in the alert for trouble before tossing the device to the mattress and striding to the chest of drawers.

He pulled one of the smaller weapons from the drawer before stripping the adhesive backing from the light, skinadhering holster. Smacking it to the side of the gun, he anchored the weapon in the small of his back before pulling on his shirt.

He grabbed the spare gun from the top of the chest and checked the ammo before moving for the doorway.

Pausing, he listened carefully. There were no lights on, but he didn't need any. And he didn't know who or what was downstairs, but it wasn't a Breed. There wasn't a chance in hell a Breed could disguise his scent so effectively. But sometimes, rarely, certain humans could.

Trainers knew how. It was hard, at times nearly impossible, but it could be done.

As he moved to the stairs he inhaled carefully. He smelled no Breed or human scent other than Lyra's and her fear. It was overwhelming, imperative. But alongside it was a curiously hollow sterile scent. As though something had been cleaned. And another, not quite as crisp, as though something were bleeding away whatever had been used to disguise the evil that filled it.

A cold snarl shaped his lips.

There were two, and one of them was nervous, wary.

Perhaps not quite as certain as the other. That one was weak. He would make a mistake.

As Tarek started down the stairs, he laid the extra weapon on a step, close enough to jump and retrieve if he needed it. If he went in armed, they would know he had been aware of them, and they would search him, using Lyra to keep him in place while they took the hidden weapon.

"Lyra, you left the lights out," he called out as he stepped into the foyer. "No more of your games now. Where are you?" He kept his voice teasing, taunting as he moved to the kitchen where her scent was strongest. He stopped at the entrance, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed the scene.

Everything inside him clenched with fear as he fought to present a casual attitude. He could feel the growl growing in his chest, his jaw clenching with the need to taste blood. The two men stood on each side of her, one with his weapon lying threateningly against her temple. She didn't make a sound, but he could see the tears shimmering on her face, her lips moving.

I'm so sorry…

"Well, I admit, Tarek, I hadn't thought it really possible." Anton Creighton shook his head as he made a clucking sound.

"And to find you so careless. Your Trainers were sloppier than I had thought them to be during your stay at the labs." Cold, steel-gray eyes stared out of a pale face. A black cap covered his blond hair, but Tarek remembered the color well. His broad, heavily muscled body appeared relaxed, but Tarek could see the tension in it. The other man wasn't nearly as confident as he appeared to be.

And his partner was terrified.

"The stink of your man is starting to bleed through whatever you used to cover him," he informed Creighton coolly. "He's scared."

Creighton's eyes narrowed as Tarek refused to rise to his prodding. His gaze flickered to the other man.

"Good help is so hard to come by." He smiled coldly. "But he did well enough to keep you from detecting us until the time was right."

Tarek nodded with all signs of absent attention as he glanced at Lyra.

"So what do you boys want tonight?" he asked, keeping his voice measured, nonthreatening.

He knew Creighton better than the other man thought he did. He was easy to play with, maneuverable to a small degree, and living on a prayer as he fought to escape both Breeds and Council soldiers.

Creighton was basically a coward. When the labs were attacked by government and independent forces to rescue the Breeds held there, he had deserted the fight rather than risking capture. He was considered a criminal to both sides now.

"Just the girl." Creighton shrugged dismissively. "As soon as I dispose of you, I can use her for a little trade. You should have stayed off my ass, Tarek. But because you're so persistent, I'll take care of you now and ensure my return to the Council ranks with your pretty little mate."

"The Council is disbanded, Creighton." Tarek watched him pityingly. "There's no one to trade with." A rich chuckle filled the air.

"You really believe that, Tarek?" he asked, shaking his head.

"No need to worry, Lion-boy. They're still there. Tucked away nice and safe, but there all the same."

"Shut up, Creighton," his partner hissed. "Kill him and be done with it."

Lyra flinched, her gaze turning wild at the demand. Damn. She was the wild card, not these two bastards. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do but pray her common sense won out.

"Your boy is a little impatient, Creighton." Tarek mocked as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched them. "A little bossy, too, isn't he?" Creighton's ego was legendary.

"Shut up, Tim," he snapped. "I have him under control."

"You sure he's not a Coyote?" Tarek nodded to good old Tim, with his washed-out hazel eyes filled with fear and lanky dark brown hair. "He shakes like one."

Creighton's chuckle was mocking, grating on Tarek's nerves as the barrel of his gun slid against Lyra's temple in a cold caress.

"He'll do," Creighton assured him as he stared back coldly.

"Unfortunately, there's no bounty on your head. But I guess I'm going to have to kill you anyway. If you had just let me be, boy, I would have done the same." He shook his head in mock regret.

"Some Breeds never learn though."

Just a little more. Just a few more seconds.

He could smell Braden and another Breed at the back door. But he could also smell the overwhelming scent of fury at the front door. Human fury. A father's fury.

Shit.

"This was really a bad time to come calling, Creighton." Tarek shook his head, almost feeling sorry for the other man now. "It's bread night, you know."

He glanced at Lyra, praying she would get the message. She blinked, amazement and a surge of renewed fear glittering in her eyes.

"Bread night?" Creighton stared at him in confusion. "What does bread have to do with anything? Has freedom rotted your brain?"

"Sadly, for you, I believe it may have."

The back door splintered as the house alarm began blaring. Lyra, bless her sweet heart, was no one's fool. Before Creighton could stop her, she threw herself to the floor, rolling beneath the table as her feet kicked out at Tim's knees as Tarek dropped, whipped the gun from his back, and fired back at the Trainer. The front door exploded as Creighton went down and Tarek threw himself beneath the kitchen table, his body covering Lyra's as he left the other man for Braden and whoever the hell was screaming bloody-assed murder to take care of.

"I told you it wasn't going to work. You can't play with men who know you so well, Lyra," he growled, reminding her of his warning as she spoke to her father earlier. He pulled her deeper beneath the table, forcing her behind him, sheltering her between his body and the wall as she struggled to push him away.

Braden and Jonas were on the floor, weapons raised ready, as three well-trained Navy SEALs burst into the room, weapons drawn, murder glowing in their eyes.

"Dammit, Tarek, let me go before they destroy the house," Lyra yelled at his ear. "They'll tear it apart."

"Better the house than me," he grunted, holding her in place as the black-clad figures halted at the table, followed by a set of legs clad in jeans.

The father.

Hell.

"Look, I like this house better than mine." She smacked his shoulder before putting her knees into his back and pushing.

"And they're going to ruin it."

"Dammit, stay in place, woman," he snarled. "I can rebuild the house, and as I can't kill the bastards because of you, I'd really prefer to stay out of harm's way. If it's all the same to you," he snarled mockingly.

"Moron."

"Brat."

"Well, at least she's alive," a mocking voice drawled as three Navy SEALs hunkered down to stare beneath the table. Eyes amazingly similar to Lyra's stared back at him. They quickly took in the fact that he wasn't about to let her move just yet, and she was fairly content to be where she was, insults notwithstanding.

"You can't shoot my future husband." She finally managed to wiggle past him.

Heaving a sigh, Tarek glanced across the floor as Braden came slowly to his feet.

"Are those assholes bleeding on my kitchen floor?" Lyra was out from under the table just ahead of him, facing her brothers, hands on her hips. "Why are they bleeding on my floor?"

"Blame your boyfriend under there." The broadest of the four men faced her squarely, his black head lowered to snarl back at her, anger lighting his eyes. "He shot them. We didn't. And since when the hell is this your house?"

"Since I said it was." Tarek pulled her back, his instincts flaring at the other man's fury toward his mate. This was not acceptable.

"And who the hell are you?" Violence raged in the brother's expression. A violence he could damned well direct somewhere other than toward Lyra.

"Her mate…" His cold smile didn't go over any better than his announcement.

Pandemonium ensued.

Chapter Ten

"I can't believe you actually got into a fist fight with my brother." Lyra's expression was none too pleased later that night as she stood before him, inspecting the black eye and split lip he had gained from the effort.