Chapter 34
thiRty-fouR
DR. COLE SANG LIKE a bird in less time than I expected.
We'd brought her to the hangar Supe Sec rented for the occasion. The private airport was shuttered for the night. Quiet.
Roul didn't even have to touch her.
She told us about the trial's origin. How BioSynth approached Novagen to solve their control problem.
How they'd bought an artifact that allowed them to see potential mate bonds.
How she'd developed the genetic modification to enhance that potential.
How they'd tested it on twenty women, then killed twelve when the procedure failed.
She told us about Hector, who'd been in charge of disposing of the non-viable subjects. About Dr. Hughes, who'd provided her with our blood and DNA so she could craft the modifications to target us. She didn't know where he'd gone.
She detailed how Preston Higgins funded the project. How the original investors in the wyrfang project were happy to finance the trial. She even drew a rough sketch of Justin Beringer's private estate, where she assumed he'd fled.
When she was done, she looked at Haven with curiosity.
"Why weren't you afraid?"
My blood boiled, but Haven's response was calm.
"I was always meant for him. You didn't make us mates. Only the fates can do that. You tried to control the bond. To weaponise it."
She looked up at me and smiled.
"You failed."
Haven never looked back at Dr. Cole as she left the hangar. I followed her onto the plane and wrapped her in my arms.
My brothers weren't far behind us. She nodded her thanks to each one as they came aboard. Kragen stopped at our seats.
"Three more."
"Three more," she echoed.
Preston Higgins was next.
THE FINANCIER WASN'T WHAT I expected. He was a big man, not lean and nerdy. Former military. He squared off with us, like he had a chance if he fought.
We found him at Novagen, thinking he was safe behind the security like we suspected. He'd even started living in his office.
The security would have been sufficient if we were human. The building locked down, extra guards posted at entrances. They didn't know Bacon had finally breached and disabled the system. The guards never saw us coming. Per Haven's wishes, we spared their lives. They had nothing to do with 55B.
Preston pulled a knife and Roul laughed before he took his arm off with a casual swipe. The man kept fighting until Thurl ended it by taking his head off.
The whole encounter was anticlimactic, but that was fine. We would save the drama for Justin.
Cavi somehow managed to get a cut on his bicep trying to incapacitate a guard without killing him. He patched himself up in the common hall. Haven watched with fascination.
"Does it hurt?"
He snorted. "Only my pride. It'll heal in an hour."
"What does that feel like?"
He tilted his head. "It itches bad enough to contemplate taking a fork to it."
"That sounds unpleasant."
He shrugged. "Better than an infection."
Haven turned to me. "One more?"
"Until we find where BioSynth has slunk off to, yes. One more."
We took two days to prepare for Justin Beringer.
Roul surveilled his private estate, mapping every security measure and movement. The rest of us strategized with Kragen until we had contingency plans for our contingency plans. I wouldn't risk Haven's safety.
I spent half my nights as Haven's pillow, the other half as her guardian, my love growing deeper with every passing moment.
The first night of waiting was the hardest.
The house was quiet. I stood at the bedroom window, watching the tree line for threats that weren't coming.
"Quin."
I turned. Haven was sitting up in bed, the covers pooled around her waist. Moonlight painted silver stripes across her skin. She looked small in my bed—our bed now—but not fragile. Never fragile.
"You should be sleeping."
"So should you." She patted the mattress beside her. "Come here."
I crossed the room but didn't lie down. Instead, I crouched at the edge of the bed, putting us at eye level. "I can keep watch from the living room. You'll rest better without me hovering."
"No." The word was simple. Certain. "I won't."
"Haven—"
"I don't need you to keep me safe tonight."
I went still. Every muscle locked in place.
"I just want you here."
The words hit me like a physical blow. In all my years—in the lab, in the cages, in the endless missions designed to turn us into weapons—no one had ever wanted me. Not my presence. Not my company. Just my claws. My teeth. My capacity for violence.
It wasn't the first time she'd told me she wanted me to stay, but it was the first time I believed her.
She reached out and took my hand. Her fingers were so small against my palm. "Stay with me. Not because there's danger. Not because you're protecting me." She tugged, and I let her pull me onto the bed. "Just because I want you close."
I settled beside her, careful of my bulk, hyperaware of every point where our bodies touched. She curled into my side, her head finding the spot on my chest that seemed made for her.
Her fingers traced idle patterns through my fur. Down my chest, over my ribs, back up to rest over my heart. I focused on breathing evenly. On not purring like some overgrown house cat.
I failed at the second one.
"Are you purring?" She lifted her head, and I could hear the smile in her voice even if I couldn't see it.
"Wyrfangs don't purr."
"That's definitely a purr."
"It's a... rumble of contentment. Entirely different."
She laughed—actually laughed—and the sound was so bright, so unexpected, that my chest ached with it. She'd been carrying so much weight. The calls. The files. The knowledge of what they did to her, to the others.
And here she was, laughing in my arms.
"You're ridiculous," she said fondly.
"I am devoted."
"Also that." She settled back against my chest. "Quin?"
"Mm?"
"I used to dream about this. Before I knew you existed. Before any of this happened." Her voice was soft, drifting toward sleep. "I used to imagine what it would feel like to have someone. To not be alone. I thought I was being stupid. Wanting something that wasn't meant for me."
My arm tightened around her. "You were dreaming of me."
"Maybe." She yawned. "Or maybe it was just hope. And you answered."
I pressed my muzzle to the top of her head and breathed her in. Candy sweetness, warm skin, the faint traces of my scent that had blended with hers since the bite.
"I will always answer," I said. "Whenever you call. Whatever you need. I will be there."
"I know." Her breath evened out, her body growing heavy against mine. "That's why I can sleep."
She drifted off between one breath and the next, as easily as if she'd done this a thousand times. As if falling asleep in a monster's arms was the most natural thing in the world.
I didn't sleep.
I lay there in the dark, counting her heartbeats, memorizing the weight of her, the impossible reality that she was mine and she wanted to be.
Tomorrow we would plan the final strike.
The day after, we would end Justin Beringer.
The world would keep spinning. BioSynth would still exist, still be an unsolved problem.
But tonight there was only her.
I let myself feel it—truly feel it—for the first time. Not just the bond. Not just the biological imperative that made her scent intoxicating and her presence necessary.
Love.
The word had always seemed too human for what I was. Too soft. But lying there with Haven breathing peacefully in my arms, I understood. Love wasn't soft. Love was the hardest thing I'd ever done. It meant being vulnerable. It meant having something to lose.
It meant choosing her over everything, every single day, for the rest of my existence.
I could do that.
I would do that.
Her fingers curled in my ruff, a reflexive motion in her sleep, and the tether between us pulsed with warmth. The lights wound around us, binding us together.
"Sleep well, little moth."
She burrowed closer.
And with her heartbeat as my anchor, I fell asleep.
THE SECOND MORNING, I woke to Haven's fingers tracing my horns.
I kept my eyes closed, savoring the sensation. Her touch was curious and gentle, like I was something worth exploring rather than something to fear. Her fingertips mapped the curve from base to tip, then wandered down to trace the edge of my ear.
"I know you're awake," she murmured.
"I'm enjoying the attention."
She laughed. "Is that so?"
I cracked one eye open. She was propped on her elbow, watching me with an expression that made my chest tight. Morning light caught the edges of her hair, turning it into a dark halo. The bite mark on her thigh had healed to a silvery scar—my mark, permanent and perfect.
"How's your back?" I asked.
"Better." She shifted, rolling onto her back and stretching experimentally. "Barely a twinge when I do Phoenix's exercises."
"That's good."
"Mm-hmm." Her hand found my chest, fingers curling into my fur. "You know what else would be good?"
My cock stirred behind its sheath. "Haven..."
"I want to feel you." She tugged me toward her, and I went willingly, bracing myself over her body. "Properly. Without you treating me like I'm made of glass."
"You're injured."
"I'm healed." Her legs fell open, cradling my hips between her thighs. The heat of her seeped through the thin fabric of her pajamas. "And I want my mate."
The word mate, spoken in her sleep-rough voice, snapped something loose in my chest. I'd been so careful. So controlled. Terrified of hurting her, of being too much, too rough, too monstrous.
But she was looking at me like I was exactly what she wanted.
"If anything hurts—"
"I'll tell you." She pulled my head down until our foreheads touched. "Trust me, Quin. Trust us."
My tongue swept across her lower lip before delving inside. She moaned into my mouth and arched against me, her nails raking through my fur. I let my hands roam the geography of her body.