Navarro's Promise

  It was a battle Navarro feared they would never win. A battle he feared would end up seeing them once again in hiding and fighting to simply survive.

  Now he was showered and dressing in the fine cotton khaki pants, dress shirt and the comfortable leather boots he preferred when not on mission.

  Stylish.

  He brushed back the thick, straight black strands of his hair before striding from the large bathroom and through the bedroom, coming to a slow, cautious stop.

  His head lifted, his nostrils flaring, as the scent of her reached him, sliding across his senses like the softest caress. Like the stroke of her fingers.

  His cock hardened, and damn, just that fast he was so hard it was fucking painful.

  He smothered a groan, his hands running through his hair as a hard grimace tightened his lips. This wasn’t his day. It wasn’t his week, that was obvious. That today—he gave his head a hard shake before quickly running his tongue over his lower teeth.

  Okay, no swollen glands.

  He wasn’t snarling for sex, just on the verge of growling for it.

  Not mating. Yet.

  Gripping the back of his neck, he wondered what the hell was going on here, but he couldn’t seem to stop hungering for her. His ability to take another woman had even dimmed. All interest in having any female but Mica in his bed had deserted him since the night he’d kissed her at Haven more than a month before.

  She was out there. She was waiting on him.

  His lips quirked, almost in a grin. And she was certain she was going to surprise him. Because she believed his recessed genetics included his sense of smell.

  He almost shook his head. He was going to have to tell her the truth soon, but damn if it hadn’t been nice, the moment she had relaxed, believing she could be herself with him. That she didn’t have to stress out over him sensing her little exaggerations of the truth. Over her body’s hot little reaction to him.

  Like how hot and wet her pussy got whenever he was around.

  How hot it was now.

  He wasn’t a Breed to ignore such need either.

  Continuing his journey through the bedroom, he stepped through the doorway into the comfortable sitting room of the suite, then came to a quick stop, as though surprised.

  She wasn’t going to be happy when she learned the truth of that supposed recessed sense.

  “Now, I’m fairly certain I locked the door.” His brow arched as he stared back at her, rather impressed at how comfortable she looked as she lounged in the high-backed chair that sat across from him.

  Mica smiled demurely. “I’m really quite adept at picking locks. Did Jonas forget to mention that?”

  “He did,” he admitted as he tilted his head slightly to the side and watched her with a curious sense of amusement and felt those tendrils of emotion reaching out to him once again.

  “I hear you’re the big bad bodyguard here.” Her smile, though tentative, was just charming as hell. The Cupid’s bow curve of her lips and the gleam of laughter that brightened the green in her golden green eyes transformed her face from incredibly pretty to completely sensual.

  “I heard I was your big bad bodyguard,” he amended, watching her closely as she moved stiffly to her feet, his senses catching the stiffness and pain in her ribs that she refused to give in to.

  “That’s what I heard too.” She tossed him a flirty little smile that had his balls tightening. “And I was told I had to come find you before I could leave the main house. So let’s get going, bodyguard of mine.”

  “And where exactly would we be going?” he asked, moving behind her as he picked up the jacket she had thrown over the chair just inside the door.

  Collecting the black leather overcoat he’d retrieved from the locker he maintained in Sanctuary’s enforcer quarters, he followed her through the door, closed it and locked it securely as she stood back and watched him.

  “Where are we going then?” he asked.

  “Dr. Morrey has ordered me to the labs for a checkup,” she told him, not in the least pleased by that fact. “Jonas seems to think I should have X-rays, and my parents are having conniptions because I didn’t want to. To keep Mom from sobbing on the phone, I promised I’d do it immediately.” She headed for the stairs.

  “We could take the elevator.” Reaching out, he caught her wrist before she could take the first step. “It would be easier on your ribs.”

  “They’re sore, not broken,” she informed him, that displeasure turning on him now.

  “Sore enough that you willingly took the elevator when we arrived yesterday morning,” he reminded her. “The only reason you didn’t end up with a broken rib was sheer luck, Mica.”

  Her lips thinned as she tucked her hair behind her left ear and glanced at the stairs uncomfortably. “If I give in, then it’s like admitting they hurt me,” she muttered. “I hate that feeling.”

  It was a feeling he and more than a thousand Breed males could fully relate to. The Council had had enough power over them that even the thought of showing their pain could fill them with fury.

  “They’re not here to see it,” he assured her as he drew her back from the elegant curved staircase of the historic old Southern mansion and led her to the end of the hall where the private elevator was located. “No one is here to see it but me.”

  He pressed the down button, then waited as the doors slid smoothly open with a soft hiss before he stepped inside. He almost grinned at the encouraging tug he had to give to her wrist.

  Once they were closed within the small cubicle, he pushed the button for the medical labs, and restrained the tension that suddenly wanted to enfold him.

  Even as it began to whip around him though, he felt those wisps of warmth that were already becoming much too familiar, as they seemed to reach out to him unconsciously, wrapping around him, and he swore, blocking the rising wariness he felt as the elevator began to slide far below the main floor of the house.

  She was staring at the elevator doors with a frown, her expression still mutinous. As Navarro watched her through her reflection in the shiny steel of the doors in front of her, he knew those tendrils of emotion, of warmth, radiating from her had to be subconscious.

  Was this the reason Dash rushed this young woman to his daughter’s side whenever Cassie’s life seemed to be spinning out of control? Because the empathy that seemed to be such a natural part of her reached out instinctively to those she cared for?

  “I hate elevators,” she sighed. “And this one has always been so slow. When is Callan going to update it to one of those nice fast little models that doesn’t take all day to reach the labs?”

  “I believe he may have mentioned something about hell freezing over the last time Jonas asked that question,” Navarro answered ruefully. “You know Callan. He hates changing the interior of the house any more than he has to. He knows all its quirks and all its faults. Says he doesn’t want to learn new tricks.”

  “That is just so wrong.” She moved to cross her arms over her breasts, then dropped them to her sides once again with a careful sigh.

  “How did they catch you?” It was a question he had avoided asking, uncertain if he really wanted to know the truth of who to begin the killing with.

  “A weasel,” she finally answered with an edge of self-disgust. “I was working on a story with one of the reporters at the newspaper. The contact I’d been working with left me a message to meet him, said he had some information.” She looked up at him with an edge of anger. “I should have known better. They were waiting on me when I stepped into the hall that led to the back exit where I was supposed to meet him.”

  “Who was your contact?” he asked carefully.

  A soft little puff of exasperation met his question. “You really think I’m going to answer that question, Navarro? Don’t you think I’ve been around Breeds long enough to know exactly what happens when someone is dumb enough to cross you? You would run and tattle straight to Dash and Dad, then all hell would rain down
on his weaselly little head. Forget it.”

  He stared straight ahead. “I promise not to call Dash; I simply need to know who to keep tabs on if we resolve this situation.”

  “I’m not stupid.” The elevator eased its descent, halting as she finished speaking, the doors sliding open smoothly. “You would just kill him yourself.”

  His jaw clenched. He wanted the name of her contact. The man wasn’t a weasel, he was a fucking little mouse and Navarro was the Wolf Breed that was about to go hunting.

  The sight that met his eyes as the elevator opened didn’t help his mood any. The Wolf Breed assigned to lab security was one he hadn’t expected.

  “Mica, it’s about time you got down here.” Josiah Black stood just outside the elevator, his gray blue eyes narrowed on Mica as she stepped from the elevator. “Dr. Morrey has been waiting most of the morning for you. She actually expected you last night.”

  “Last night I was dead to the world.” Stepping into the steel-lined hallway, she leaned into the gentle hug Josiah gave her, his arms wrapping around her as Navarro sensed, as well as scented, the stink of his arousal.

  “It’s damned good to see you again, Mica.” Josiah’s tone, his whole demeanor, was one of tenderness. Something Breeds were not noted for.

  Navarro didn’t growl, but it was close before she stepped back from the other Breed’s hold. He told himself he had more control than that. His fingers didn’t form fists, and he didn’t jerk her away from the other Breed.

  It was all he could do to hold on to that part of his temper though.

  Jealousy?

  No, not jealousy, he told himself, simply a sense of possession. He hadn’t had her yet. All he’d had was that sweet taste of her, and he wanted more. And he’d have her before Josiah had the chance to even begin a seduction.

  Stepping carefully between the two of them, Navarro allowed his hand to settle possessively at the small of Mica’s back before pressing her forward.

  “We’ll see you later, Black,” Navarro stated dismissively as he ignored the tension that suddenly invaded Mica’s muscles.

  The fact that she wasn’t pleased was impossible to miss. But he’d be damned if he cared. She had no right stepping into another Breed’s arms. Hell, no man’s arms period but his own.

  That was a dangerous sign, and he knew it.

  He checked his tongue again, damned confused over the fact that there were no swollen glands. He assured himself that was a good thing too. He was the last Breed that needed to find his mate.

  He had too many secrets in his past to allow any woman to ever be comfortable with him, especially a woman such as Mica. She would demand the truth, and God help the lover that dared to lie to her.

  “Mica. I’m off the next few days,” Josiah told her as he followed behind them. “We could have lunch or something.”

  The bastard. He knew Mica was already pissed, and he was using it.

  “Lunch sounds great, Josiah.” Mica stopped, ignoring Navarro’s hand on her back as she did so, and turned, and in that flashing instant Navarro felt and scented the pure terror that streaked through her, even as emergency alarms began blaring through the steel-lined, heavily secured underground medical labs.

  Their senses, his and Josiah’s, had somehow failed them. Almost in slow motion his head lifted; his reflexes, sharp and precise, were still too slow.

  There was only a second to throw Mica to the side as the first blast threw Josiah forward into him.

  He was aware of Mica’s cry as she fell into the wall, Josiah’s shock at the feel of the blast of energy that exploded into his back.

  How had Brandenmore managed to get his hands on a blaster?

  That thought came as Josiah was thrown into him like a ton of bricks. He felt himself going backward as they both fought to avoid the collision, to get to Mica.

  And they both failed.

  They both left Mica to the savage, insane mercilessness of a man that was no longer a man.

  Mica swirled around, the agony in her ribs reminiscent of the broken ankle she’d had when she was eighteen and Cassie had all but bullied her into coming into Haven.

  That ride from her home to Haven had been so painful she’d cursed Cassie the whole time she was there. Just as she’d cursed her the time she and Cassie had been training in the gym at Haven and she had fallen and cracked the bone in her forearm.

  Those earlier misadventures had taught her something though. Years’ worth of accident-prone missteps, and Mica was used to having to move when it hurt. She was used to walking with a broken ankle, helping a concussed Cassie through the forest days after Mica had cracked the bone in her arm because a Coyote Breed had managed to slip into Haven to target her.

  Cassie had directed her through her forest, and Mica had helped her friend walk as the world had spun around her. She’d supported her when unconsciousness had nearly taken Cassie, and she had prayed enough that she still whispered her prayers through her dreams when she remembered that time in her nightmares.

  This wasn’t a nightmare though. And she wasn’t in the middle of a forest with plenty of room to move around and hide. She was in the middle of a steel-lined hall, floors beneath the earth, with a madman slamming her into the wall as she tried to jerk to the side to escape him.

  That didn’t keep a cry from escaping her though, or the agony from radiating through her. Even that was diluted, though, by the sheer terror of the creature growling at her ear, his saliva dribbling to the bare skin where her shirt slipped to the edge of her shoulder.

  He was supposed to be dead.

  Mica tried to dig her nails into the steel-lined wall the side of her face was pressed against, her breathing shallow, knees weak as from the corner of her eye she watched Navarro and Josiah struggle to their feet.

  “I know you.” The creature snarled at her ear, his fingers biting into the side of her neck, ragged nails trying to tear at her flesh. “You’re not supposed to be here, whore.” The fingers of his other hand tangled in her hair, jerking her head back until she could see nothing but the twisted, enraged features of a man that was supposed to be dead.

  She stared into the flickering red of his brown eyes, gasping for air as spittle dripped to her cheek. As though he couldn’t swallow, couldn’t contain the poisonous venom in his soul any longer.

  “Sorry ’bout that,” she gasped. “Just give me a sec here, and I promise I’ll leave.” She couldn’t help it. The words had just slipped out as the blaring alarms echoing through the halls suddenly stopped.

  The silence her words were injected into seemed to shatter with the same discordance as the sirens.

  “Whore!”

  She couldn’t hold back the agonizing expulsion of breath, the whimper, the pain too intense to allow enough breath to scream.

  She heard a low, dangerous growl, the sound of footsteps, a curse echoing around her as the pain threatened to steal her consciousness.

  “Stand down, Navarro!” Jonas’s snarl was thick, dangerous, as the feel of the heavy pressure in her ribs had tears spurting from her eyes.

  Brandenmore had his arm pressing tight into the tender area, putting a horrible pressure in an area where no pressure could be tolerated.

  “Jonas Wyatt.” The demented voice made the greeting sound more a curse. “You did this, didn’t you, freak? You got her here. You found out I had plans for her.”

  Plans for her?

  “Oh yeah,” she gasped, all but writhing in agony. “Fuckup Coyote was your baby?” The bastard Coyote that had all but broken her ribs had to have been taking someone’s orders.

  “He’ll die now,” he hissed at her ear. “You got him killed.”

  Oh yeah, she was going to feel guilty about that one. Next year maybe.

  “She’s not going to help you, Phillip,” Jonas warned him, and Mica wanted to just laugh.

  It was the pain, it was making her crazy, and Cassie wasn’t here to bitch at because of it.

  “Cassie Sinclair’
s self-proclaimed best friend?” Phillip’s snarl sounded like a Breed’s. “Your little princess’s favorite person, Wyatt? You’d trade your own sire for her.”

  “No doubt,” Jonas drawled with a facade of amusement. “She likes me more.”

  And wasn’t that the damned truth.

  “Does she now?” Sardonic, manipulating, Phillip Brandenmore sounded like a monster ready to bite her head off. A chill raced up her spine as the ragged nails caressed her jugular. “Would she like you so well if she knew you’d deliberately allowed her to go home? That you’d been warned she would be targeted?”

  “Too late,” Mica wheezed. “Already knew.”

  God, she had to get his arm off her ribs before she blacked out for good. She could barely breathe. This was even worse than having Navarro lying over her in the back of the SUV.

  Brandenmore laughed at the pain in her voice. “Did you know I was here, little girl?”

  “Nightmares,” she gasped.

  Brandenmore paused. “What did you say?”

  Was there a lessening of the dementia in his tone? In the pressure against her ribs. Oh God, what had she said to make him think? She would surely say it again.

  “You’re hurting her, Phillip, is that what you want?” Jonas asked then, his voice dropping, softening.

  Those ragged nails caressed over her neck again, scraping, feeling as though they were peeling the protective layer of skin from her flesh.

  “Do you have nightmares?” He was tense behind her, and so strong. His fingers were clenching in her hair, unclenching, pulling at the tender strands as her knees threatened to buckle.

  His nails scraped her flesh again as she blinked against the tears.

  She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t inhale deeply. Her ribs felt as though a dagger were wedged between them.

  “Answer me!” he roared.

  Mica whimpered at the pain. She couldn’t cry, she couldn’t scream. There was no breath for it, the pain screaming through her body.

  “Do you have nightmares?”

  “Yes,” she wheezed, her hands jerking from the wall to the powerful wrists of the creature holding her so effortlessly.

  He was Phillip Brandenmore, yet he wasn’t.

  God, Kita Engalls, his niece, must live in hell knowing what her uncle had become.

  “What nightmares do you have?” He seemed to pause, his nails now digging into the flesh of her neck as another little whimper slipped free.

  Behind Brandenmore, she could hear Navarro growling. That low, almost unconscious growl Wolf Breeds used when pushed to their last, enraged nerve.

  If Bradenmore gave him so much as a single opening, then he would be dead.

  “Monsters,” she answered, fighting back more tears, fighting back the fear and the panic, the knowledge that she would die if one of the Breeds didn’t figure out how to get their hands, or their weapons, on the monster holding her. “Monsters find me.”

  It was the truth. That was her nightmare, a dream pulled from the bleak, horrifying night she’d spent lost in the mountains around the ranch her parents had owned in Kansas, just after Cassie and her mother had been there with Dash Sinclair.

  She had had a Coyote stalking her, playing with her, assuring her that her father was dead when he hadn’t been.

  Once again that fear was tearing through her sense.

  Navarro. Why hadn’t he made a move yet? Why wasn’t he saving her?

  “I’m the monster,” he whispered at her ear, his fingers straightening until they were wrapped around her neck too snugly for comfort.

  Her eyes closed for a moment, the labored breathing finally taking its toll as she felt herself weakening.

  She was clawing at his fingers, but they didn’t loosen.

  “You’re hurting her, Phillip,” Jonas repeated, his voice too calm as she began to struggle, desperate to escape now.

  “I want to hurt you,” he snarled at her ear.

  There were too many sounds. Jonas was suddenly snarling, a snap of fury behind Phillip, Callan’s voice suddenly entering the fray as a sharp command. “Mica, stop fighting. If he kills you, his niece Kita will never forgive him.”

  Kita? Kita wasn’t here. Mica had only met Brandenmore’s niece once; she was the same niece he had tried to kill when he learned she had mated with a Breed last month.

  Behind her, Phillip tensed again, but his hold loosened. His fingers unclenched just enough for her to take a deep breath, to prepare herself.

  And then all hell seemed to break loose.

  Navarro struggled with the order Jonas gave to hold back, to wait. He could sense the insanity inside Phillip Brandenmore, the demented animal born of the Breed serum he’d injected himself with, clawing with feral rage as all semblance of his humanity crashed beneath the wave of fury.

  The hunger for blood, for death and vengeance was a dark oil scent, putrid and abrasive to the senses. And it was focused entirely on Mica.

  Her pain and fear reached out to Navarro, tendrils of them wrapping around his senses like a scream born of desperation.

  Where the wisps of hunger and emotion born of evolving love had warmed and aroused him, this sensation tore across his senses and seemed to awaken the animal slumbering inside him to full, enraged consciousness.

  It came to awareness with a suddenness he couldn’t have predicted and damn sure hadn’t expected. Clawing talons of fury raked across his senses as a furious snarl pulled his lips back from his teeth and had him crouching, preparing to spring.

  He would have only one opportunity. If he failed, God forbid, if he didn’t take the monster down with that first try, then Mica would pay the cost.

  “Stand down!” Jonas snapped, and a distant, almost human part of Navarro recognized and fully ignored the order.

  Jonas Wyatt commanded the loyalty of the man, not whatever entity was roused to full,