Who could have known Amber had been only weeks away from being diagnosed with the same virulent leukemia that had nearly killed one of the young women Jonas had searched for, Honor Roberts?
But Brandenmore had taken the proof of it. Vials of blood he’d taken from the baby before giving her that first injection held the proof. Blood samples Gideon had left with the files, along with records of his own tests on it.
Her age, the disease and a small chromosome Gideon had identified and notated, and an observation he’d left that it needed to be studied, were the reasons the serum hadn’t killed the baby but would kill an adult every time.
The reason why Amber was slowly becoming a Breed as well.
...
Speeding away from the cavern and back to the hotel, she sat still, silent, a restlessness gripping her now that it was over. A restlessness she had no idea how to identify. She’d never felt it before. Never known it existed.
But it burned in her chest, wrapped around her heart, and urged her to . . .
She stared into the desert, closed her eyes and wondered how in the hell she was possibly going to be able to do it.
CHAPTER 31
Genetics were a bitch, especially Breed genetics.
Rule sat in the shadows of the bar that night, tapping his fingers against the small round table where he sat and grimacing at the low growl rumbling in his throat.
Gypsy was with her family again. Her parents, and then her sister, she’d stated. She had decisions to make. He had a feeling those decisions affected him more than she was letting on.
She was his fucking mate. What the hell was the problem here? It wasn’t like there was divorce. She couldn’t run and never see him again.
And she wanted him. The sweet smell of her pussy had tempted him to convince her to wait to deal with her family. The heat building in her, in him, tempted him to claim what was his and just fucking tell her how it was going to be.
That wouldn’t work with Gypsy, though, he thought with a sigh. Order her, and she’d do the exact opposite. In those precious moments he’d spent buried so deep inside her soul that there was no beginning, no end between them, he’d learned quite a bit about his stubborn, determined mate.
He’d learned enough to know that the distance she’d put between them could only mean one of two things. Either she was deciding how to accept a future with him, or she was deciding how to throw him out of her life.
He realized he was growling again, that low dangerous rumble building in his chest.
Son-of-a-bitch Lion genes. The bastard inside him was pissed and wouldn’t just let it go any more than Rule was willing to let his mate go. Unfortunately, the beast inside him was snapping at the man Rule was, enraged with him for giving their mate the time she needed.
He almost rolled his eyes at the thought. As though they were fucking separate entities or something.
The irritation building in the animal sent an overwhelming urge inside Rule to pace, to satisfy the clawing restlessness.
To find Gypsy.
To fill their kiss with the taste of peppermint and chocolate that the mating hormone seemed infused with—no wonder he hadn’t recognized the minute amount that had slipped from the glands as he chased her.
His lip lifted, a snarl almost sounding in his throat again.
Damn you, settle the fuck down.
Directing the fierce order to the animal crouched and ready to spring, he was on the verge of snarling himself.
Don’t even think about it.
That involuntary, muted growl rumbled in his chest as his instincts snapped at him again, like sharp teeth raking his mind.