Coyote's Mate

  “Come on, Anya, you’re in the damned way,” he growled. “Let me watch television.”

  It was deliberate, a reminder that she had no rights above even the lowest of the soldiers at the moment. She was no longer coya; she wasn’t even an acknowledged mate. She was Del-Rey’s lover, nothing more. There was no male willing to stand for her, and that left her at the mercy of the beasts who would push her, taunt her and eventually force her to either stay out of their way or risk their lives if she tattled on them.

  They were testing her, and she had known it was coming; she just hadn’t expected it to come so soon.

  She left the bottles on the table and moved through the room, leaving the rest of the disarray as it was. She was aware of the other Breeds watching her as well, eyes narrowed, some in disapproval, some in curiosity, as she moved into the kitchen.

  But there was one gaze that had shame curling in her stomach. Sofia. She was still there, and the other woman knew.

  Anya disposed of the garbage she carried into the kitchen, then stared around at the dishes piled haphazardly in the large sink. There were dirty skillets and cookers on the stoves and cabinets. The door had been left open on one of the ovens.

  The kitchen was a mess.

  “Who has rotation this week?” she asked Cavalier as he stepped into the room from another door.

  He looked around the room. “Wolves and Felines were taken off rotation. One of the pack leaders was assigned to keep rotation in here, but I’m not certain which one.”

  “Thank you,” she said tightly as she moved to the sink and felt her shoulders want to sink in despair.

  “You could stop this,” Cavalier said behind her. “One word is all it would take.”

  “And what word would that be?” She shook her head.

  She turned on the hot water, stopped the sink and prepared a soak for the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.

  “We swore loyalty to him because of you,” Cavalier told her. “Because you were by his side and your scent reassured us that no matter the problems you were having, he was still loyal to you. He’s no longer showing that loyalty.”

  Anya turned around slowly.

  “He’s an able commander and alpha,” she said roughly.

  His dark face was stoic, his eyes fierce as thick, long, burnished dark blond hair framed his face.

  “He is at that.” He nodded. “But a man isn’t judged on his abilities to lead well, Coya.”

  “Don’t call me that, Cavalier,” she whispered. “I’m no longer your coya.”

  “You are our coya,” he stated, a flare of anger filling his voice now. “We followed him, we swore our allegiance to him, because he was yours. Not because you belonged to him. He doesn’t shit on what we claim as our own and still command that loyalty.”

  “No,” she said fiercely. “You just don’t understand his reasons. Let it go, Cavalier.”

  “All we need is a single word, and we walk,” he stated. “If he’s mistreating you, none of us will remain under his command.”

  How could she ever have considered this Breed dead inside? When she first met him, he’d had the same look on his face as he had now. Expressionless, his eyes cold—but in those cold amber eyes there was more than she had ever seen.

  She saw it now. A feral fury, a dedication and complete loyalty. She had read his file from the other lab. She had known he’d been marked for death when she convinced her father he was a candidate for the training program at the Chernov labs.

  She’d been fourteen. He had never reached out to her or anyone else, until now.

  “He doesn’t mistreat me,” she swore.

  He growled fiercely. “Neither does he show his respect for you. Until he does, there’s not a single Coyote, except those who knew you before, that will show you respect. There will be fights.” He glared at her. “Blood will spill. Because there’s not one of us that will stand by and allow it.”

  He swung away from her then and stalked from the room.

  “Dissension in the ranks, how interesting,” Sofia drawled from the other doorway. “Shouldn’t Del-Rey know about this?”

  Anya swung around in surprise and faced the other woman. Great. Perfect. Just what the hell she needed.

  “Whatever you think he needs to know,” she bit out before shoving dishes into the water to soak.

  Silence filled the room.

  “He’s not doing you any favors, Anya,” Sofia said then. “Del-Rey can be damned strange on a good day, and he has all these quirky little ideas about protecting the people he cares about. He’s not protecting you like this. He just thinks he is.”

  The quiet reflection in the other woman’s voice had her head lifting, her eyes meeting Sofia’s surprisingly somber gaze.

  “He’ll do what he thinks he should.”

  “He’ll get you killed,” Sofia warned her.

  “He knows what he’s doing,” Anya gritted out.

  Sofia smiled. At first, a sad, wistful curve of her lips, then one of the mockery Anya was more used to.

  “Oh well, if you die, I guess we’ll find out if Breeds really can mate a second time. I heard Mercury Warrant did. Maybe a Coyote Breed can as well.”

  She turned and strolled from the kitchen then, flipping her hair over her shoulder with an air of interest, as though she were determined to find out one way or the other if she had a chance of playing coya now.

  Anya stared down at the water before her, blinked back her tears and pushed back the hurt. Hurting wasn’t going to fix it.

  During the hours she spent with Del-Rey in their rooms, she knew the man she wanted, the one she couldn’t help but love. Once those doors were open and the alpha emerged though, she found that the commander, the leader, was a much different man.

  Her status at Base had changed drastically with that memo stating that there had been a change of plans in the official ceremony. The order of separation had demanded her status as long as their relationship remained unresolved. It had been a protection for her, the other alpha leaders had explained. She had never imagined it was an illusion that would dissolve as quickly as the separation order had been dissolved.

  Yet it had. The relegation from a place of respect to one of watchful challenge grated on her pride. But then again, few Breeds of any species gave respect where their alphas didn’t. Anya, a human, weaker physically and for all intents and purposes without another Breed officially accepting responsibility for her and her actions was then less than the dirt on their feet.

  It was the way of the world in which she now existed, and she had no idea how to change the impression they had been given.

  Del-Rey read the morning reports, signed off on memos and sipped his coffee as he frowned over the day-to-day admistrative end of his job. He had shit in his inbox he’d never had before. Complaints. Requests. Bitches over the Feline and Wolf teams. Ingratiating emails that always ended with a request. Hundreds of them.

  He sat back in his chair and glared at the holographic computer screen, before activating the link at his ear.

  “Yes, Alpha?” Brim’s voice was calm. Too calm. The same tone he had used for three days now. It was pissing him off.

  “Get in here,” he ordered.

  When the door opened, he glared at the other man as he waved his hand to the computer screen. “What the fuck is this?”

  This. Two hundred and twenty-seven emails from pack leaders, soldiers, Breed Enforcers and others that he had no way to identify.

  Brim moved around the desk and stared curiously at the screen.

  “Ah yes,” he finally said. “The reversion of duties.” He shrugged.

  “What the fuck,” Del-Rey snarled, “is that?”

  Brim crossed his arms over his chest before he leaned against the wall beside Del-Rey’s chair.

  “Reversion of duties,” Brim stated. “The responsiblities of the coya, Del-Rey. There is no longer a coya. Her email address was revoked and all emails addressed to her are ret
urned to their proper owner. Namely, the alpha.”

  “You did this?” Del-Rey growled.

  Brim’s eyes widened. “Not I,” he chuckled. “That happened at Haven when the memo went out. The server processes the emails. When the official ceremony was called off, Haven had no choice but to cut off the email address. It’s part of the bylaws of the society. Didn’t you read them?”

  No. He hadn’t read the fucking bylaws, because he wasn’t part of the society. Protocol bullshit. Societal responsibilities. They were a military base, not a fucking home for wayward Breeds.

  “Assign someone to answer this bullshit.” He waved his hand to the computer. “Anya’s probably ecstatic she doesn’t have to deal with it anymore.”

  Brim was silent.

  Del-Rey stared at the emails again and blew out a hard breath.

  “I could assign someone,” Brim finally stated. “Sofia should still be lounging around somewhere; I’ll put her to work.”

  Del-Rey stared back at him slowly, his lips lifting in a silent snarl.

  Brim shrugged. “As you stated, Anya was probably glad to be rid of the responsibility. It leaves her more free time to spend with you.”

  Del-Rey turned and stared at the screen again, saying nothing.

  “Should I assign that duty to Sofia, Alpha Delgado?”

  “No,” Del-Rey snapped. “Just get the hell out of here.”

  He waited until the door closed behind his second-in-command before activating his link to an outside line. He waited until Wolfe Gunnar came online.

  “How can I help you, Alpha Delgado?” The other man’s voice was cool.

  Fuck he was getting tired of this.

  “Fuck with me, Wolfe, and I’m going to come down there and rip your dick off. We’ll see how much your lupina enjoys you then.”

  There was the faintest chuckle before the sound smoothed out. “That doesn’t tell me what you need.”

  What did he need? Besides Anya, besides that something missing inside him that felt so fucking lost he couldn’t figure out where the hell to find it.

  “The interrogation of the bartender. Why have you rescheduled it yet again?”

  “We have new intel we’re awaiting,” Wolfe told him. “That was forwarded to your email yesterday evening. You should have received it.”

  “I’m sure it’s in that mess somewhere,” Del-Rey growled.

  Wolfe’s chuckled was amused. “Yeah, if it weren’t for Hope, I’d be overrun with complaints and requests. I assume you’re dealing well with them though. A military base is a hell of a lot more convenient than home, I would imagine. I don’t envy you the mass emails though. Have you assigned an assistant yet?”

  Del-Rey pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just bring me up to speed if you don’t mind.”

  “We’re awaiting more intel that Cabal St. Laurents, a Bengal Breed with Sanctuary, is looking into. I’d like to have that intel, which involves the possibility of a Breed having planned these attacks to begin with. If he can identify the Breed and the bartender can confirm involvement, then it would help us pin Engalls and Brandenmore. I’ll give you a call when that information comes in.”

  “Thank you, Alpha Gunnar,” Del-Rey bit out. “I’ll await that call.”

  He disconnected before Wolfe could make another jibe at him, and activated a personal line.

  “Yes?” Anya’s voice was wary. It had been wary for days whenever she answered their personal line.

  “I have coffee?” He tried to tease her. God, he needed her beside him at that moment.

  “The coffee wouldn’t be very good for me right now,” she replied. “But if you need me, I can meet you in our rooms.”

  If he wanted to fuck. He could almost hear the undercurrent of that statement.

  “I need you in the fucking office,” he bit out. “If I wanted to meet you in our rooms, then that’s where I’d be.”

  “I’ll be right there then.”

  The line disconnected as he growled furiously. He was horny, discontent, and he’d be damned if he knew how to fix any of it at this moment.

  She didn’t understand. Brim didn’t understand. Losing her would kill him. He was ensuring her safety, that was all. Attempts were made against Hope and Merinus regularly. He couldn’t imagine the hell their mates went through.

  A small knock at his door moments later had him tensing. He could smell her. Sweet, so soft.

  “Enter.”

  She stepped into the room and closed the door. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater. Boots. Her hair was as soft as always, her creamy flesh looked as silky. But there was something different. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. As though something inside his precious Anya had been snuffed.

  “Did you need me?”

  “Lock the door.” He was suddenly impossibly aroused.

  Her gaze flickered as she locked the door slowly and he darkened the room’s windows. His tongue throbbed to kiss her, to taste her. Nothing mattered but the hunger razing his body and mind now. The ache in his arms to hold her, the chill that seemed to spread through his chest.

  He’d been too long without her. Too long since he had touched her. Loved her. He rose from his desk and drew his T-shirt over his head, his hands going to his belt.

  “Undress,” he ordered her desperately. “Now, Anya. Give to me.”

  Give to him.

  She had given him everything, and he wanted more. Anya wondered if she had more to give after the hell she had trudged through today.

  She unlaced her boots and slid them from her feet before undressing slowly. Tomorrow. Tomorrow it would all end. He would learn how she had conspired against him.

  He would turn against her then. He despised Breed scientists. He tolerated Dr. Armani because she had managed to hide from the Genetics Council; she had refused them through the years she was also doing her own research into what they were doing.

  He would never accept Chernov and Sobolova. And he would hate her for bringing them to Haven. For exposing his people to them.

  Naked, aroused herself, she moved to where he stood by the desk, tall and golden, powerful in his sexuality and his nudity. One large hand was wrapped around the shaft of his cock, stroking it leisurely as his chest moved with heavy breaths.

  She loved his body. She loved the man. She understood what she didn’t want to understand, and she ached for both of them, because she knew it was going to blow up in their faces soon. Until then, she wanted her mate. Her lover. Her alpha.

  “My coya,” he whispered as she came to him, breaking her heart with a title that would never be hers.

  “Alpha.” She accepted him for who he was, what he was as she moved against him, rubbing her forehead against his chest, letting her lips drift over the hard muscles as she felt his palms curve around her hips.

  She touched him, smoothed her hands down his chest, his abs. The fingers of one hand gripped his pulsing cock as she lifted her head for his kiss.

  It was sheer power. Black magic. He kissed her with a hunger that sank inside her as surely as his tongue pushed between her lips.

  Heady spice filled her senses. The taste of the mating kiss, smooth and whiskey-hot. It wrapped around her senses and reminded her of hot Colorado summer nights when she had lain alone, thinking of him, dreaming of him.

  But this was no dream. This was Del-Rey. So powerful. So much hers and, yes, so separate from her.

  She moved back, tearing from his kiss to find a breath. Her lips moved from his lips to his chest. That fine sprinkling of chest hair mesmerized her. Light, lighter than the dark blond on his head. Almost a burnished gold. It was soft to the touch, tempting, warm.

  She rubbed her cheek against it and felt the small grumble in his chest. Not hardly a groan, a rough sigh of pleasure as his hands threaded through her hair.

  “I want to touch you,” she whispered.

  She needed to touch him. Everything was spinning out of control. He was the only thing she had left to hold on to
as the world unraveled around her. Around them both.

  “Touch,” he sighed. “Sweet baby. My coya.”

  His coya in private. His whore to his men, nothing more. How much longer could she bear this?

  She caressed the hard length of his cock with slow, easy strokes. Her fingers moved from base to shaft, stroked lower and curved around the heavy sac of his balls. She licked his chest, nipped it, kissed it.

  She loved him the only way she knew how. With her touch, with her kiss. Moving lower, knees bending as she knelt before him and licked the engorged crest.

  She stared up at him, sucked him into her mouth and watched as his head tilted back, his long hair falling over his shoulders. The broad planes and angles of his face were tight with need now, his lips heavy with sensual hunger.

  “God, your mouth,” he groaned, staring down at her again. “Suck me, Anya. Sweet coya. Take me into your mouth.”

  His coya. She was his coya here, but nowhere else.

  Her lips parted as she drew the thick head inside. Immediately a pulse of pre-cum filled her mouth. As warm as heated syrup, tinged with lightning and male promise. She loved the taste of him. Loved the power and the promise in his taste, in his touch.

  His fingers in her hair, the tight flex of his thighs, the throb of heavy veins beneath the silken flesh of his cock.

  “Anya. Yes, damn you, I could die in your mouth it’s so good.”

  His hips moved, pressing inside the heated depths as she opened for him, took as much as she could and sucked him, lashed the sensitive underside with her tongue. Another pulse of heated fluid and she was wilder, hungrier. Another and she was desperate, whimpering, reaching for him.

  And he was there. Lifting her into his arms, laying her across his desk. His lips played with her nipples, first one, then the other. Hunger enfolded them, surrounded them, sank into their pores as they fought to devour each other.

  Her lips were at his shoulder, his on her breast. His hands stroked her thighs, moved between. Calloused fingers rasped through the silken folds as her head tipped back, a strangled cry leaving her lips at the pleasure washing over her.

  “I need to taste you.” Heated, rough, his lips moved down her stomach. “All that sweet cream I can smell. So hot and sweet, Anya.”

  His lips caressed, licked, kissed to her thighs. Pushing her legs farther apart, he moved to the aching flesh there, his tongue swiping through the wet center as she cried out his name.

  She arched, begged. Her legs fell over his shoulders as his hands gripped her rear, held her to him, and he ate her with a pleasure she couldn’t contain. Heated, hungry lips, his tongue an instrument of pleasure and lust. He licked and stroked. Electric pleasure whipped through her, left her writhing beneath each caress.

  Her fingers tightened in his hair as his tongue circled her clit, his lips surrounded it, and the suckling, heated pressure began to draw ecstasy to its pinnacle.

  The explosion that rocked her had her screaming his name. She ground her sex tighter against his hungry lips, fought for more and then arched into the sensations as they consumed her.

  Damp with perspiration, she was waiting for him when his head lifted, his hands dragging her legs around his hips as he lifted her to him.

  Thick and hard, his erection was pressing inside her as he collapsed in the chair behind him, drawing her legs around his back as he began to work inside her.

  Anya gripped his shoulders, stared into her lover’s eyes and saw all the desperate pleasure, the aching need and loneliness she felt inside herself.

  “Too slow,” she moaned. “Harder, Del-Rey. Take me hard and fast.”

  His hands clenched on her rear, fingertips delving into the narrow cleft there.

  Anya clenched her muscles around the flared head as it lodged inside her. A hard, heated spurt of pre-cum had her whispering his name again. Another had her trying to force him inside her.

  “Now,” she panted. “Hard, Del-Rey. Take me hard. Give me everything.”

  His black eyes, hints of blue, were fierce with the insatiable need that poured between them.

  “Fuck me, wild man.”

  He growled, hips flexing, his cock driving deeper, and he didn’t stop. Thrust after thrust until he was filling her, and he didn’t stop.

  Holding on to him, Anya moved with him, her arms wrapping around his neck as her lips took his kiss, smothering both their cries as she moved against him. Taking him, loving him. Her sex sucked his erection inside her as she sucked his tongue into her mouth.

  The deep, penetrating thrusts raked and caressed exposed nerve endings. She could feel the pleasure building, ratcheting up with each thrust, until she was mindless with the need blazing through her like wildfire.

  She needed.

  She braced her feet on the chair behind him as she lifted and fell with him, his hands on her ass, his fingertips clenching on her rear, pressing into sensitive nerve endings there. His lips took hers, caressed hers. They were buffeted by a storm of sensation that caught them off guard, left them fighting for release, bucking and thrusting until Anya tipped her head back and cried out in a perfect, burning orgasm that sent her flying.

  Mindless. Bodiless. She was pure sensation, pure pleasure burning in his arms as he thrust into her full-length and that deep, burning swelling filled her until she was shooting into the stars and exploding into a white-hot center of pleasure.