Del-Rey had seen it through the window on the other side of the exam room as Wolfe and Jonas waited with him. Anything that happened to one mate where the mating heat was concerned had the potential to affect the other.
He watched Dr. Armani steady Anya’s arm, a syringe poised to draw blood, when Anya cried out and jerked away. Instantly, three enraged female Coyotes were blocking her, throwing the doctor back, death echoing in their feral growls as Del-Rey crashed into the exam room.
Anya was curled into herself, crying again, her neck arched and thrown back as she gripped her stomach through spasms of pain.
“I need blood, Del-Rey.” Armani was frantic, her dark gaze filled with worry as she faced off with the three women poised to protect their coya. “Get those feral little monsters out of my exam room!” she ordered.
Ashley turned on him. “I won’t leave her. Take my allowance for life. You let that bitch hurt her again and I’ll rip her apart.”
Sharone was growling; Emma had drawn a blade and watched the doctor silently. She was the most dangerous at the moment.
“Emma, sheathe that blade,” he snapped.
“I regret, Alpha, that I must deny your request.” Her voice was barely human. “She won’t hurt Anya like this again.” She turned enraged eyes on him. “You let them do this to her the first time.
I swore then it wouldn’t happen again.”
Del-Rey moved to the bed, his hand brushing against Anya’s flesh as she suddenly turned to him, shaking, shivering as though freezing.
He eased onto the mattress, letting her crawl into him, easing her into his arms as she panted for air.
“What’s she talking about?” He looked from the doctor to the bodyguards standing so fiercely over her.
“She ordered us to stand down the first time they had her screaming in agony. Those three weeks they tested her to create that fucking drug they pump into her every week. They won’t hurt her again.”
Del-Rey looked down at Anya before lifting his head and staring back at Armani where she now stood at the foot of the bed with Wolfe and Jonas. “What are they talking about?”
“No.” Anya gripped his shirt, her voice laden with pain. “I ordered them not to tell you. It was my fault,” she sobbed. “Don’t punish them. It was my fault.”
Wolfe’s gray gaze was dark with regret; Jonas’s was as cool as ever.
“The three weeks she submitted, to testing,” Jonas told him. “It’s extremely painful. Though I don’t remember it being as painful as this for her. The scent of her agony is thicker now.”
Del-Rey stared at Wolfe coldly. “You allowed them to harm my mate?” he asked carefully.
Wolfe sighed heavily. “We monitored every second of it, Del-Rey. Hope, Faith and her bodyguards begged her not to complete it when it was at its worse. She refused.”
She had hurt like this? In this agony and they hadn’t told him?
“Sharone?” She was Anya’s lead bodyguard; the others followed her, no matter what.
Sharone glared back at him. “I didn’t know you. You had hurt her. The hurt you dealt her went so deep I would have sliced you alive before letting you near her then. I followed my coya’s orders until I gave you my loyalty. I still follow my coya against anyone who would dare hurt her again.” There was a warning in her voice.
These three women weren’t the ones that had faced him earlier. Submitting to his position of leadership, accepting his terms of punishment. They would fight even him to protect her.
“No one’s hurting her again,” he promised quietly, maintaining his control, realizing how close the girls were to losing their own at the sound of Anya’s strangled screams. “Emma, do you trust me to protect your coya?”
She stared back at him furiously. “You didn’t before.”
“Did I know?” he asked her softly.
Her shoulders relaxed only marginally.
“Put away the blade, Emma,” he told her gently. “Sharone, pull your team back. We’re going to fix this in a way that isn’t going to hurt your coya. I swear it.”
“Del-Rey, she has to be examined,” Dr. Armani said urgently. “Do you think it was easy for the others? That they didn’t suffer? I need that blood to see why the hell she’s in pain. Her hormonal levels have stayed normal. She shouldn’t be doing this.”
He held out his hand. “I’ll get the blood. I’ll do what must be done, Doctor. I’d suggest, for all our safety, that we do it this way.”
Wolfe and Jonas stepped back as Armani glanced at the women guarding Anya, then back to Del-Rey.
“I know how to do it,” he promised her. “Give me the syringe.”
She handed him the laser syringe with its vial capped to it. “Anya.” He brushed her hair back from her face. “I need some blood. Can you let me do this?”
She was shivering in his arms but managed to nod slowly.
“Good girl.” He kissed her forehead, stretched her arm out and extracted the first vial of blood and then the second.
“We need vaginal samples as well as oral.” Armani was moving quickly for the supplies as Del-Rey eased from the bed.
He hated hearing Anya cry. She was sobbing, both in pain and in embarrassment as he was forced to take the vagina samples. The oral was easier. He petted her as he took the samples, ran his hands along her sweating flesh, then laid his palm against her trembling stomach.
She gasped. Shuddering just for a second before he felt the tightness in her muscles ease. The scent of her pain, the hole shredding through his soul, eased just enough that he wasn’t ready to tear the walls down in his rage.
“I want my clothes on,” she whispered roughly, another tear easing from her eyes. “I don’t like being naked here.”
She wasn’t naked. She had her bra and sweater on, but he knew what she meant.
He eased her panties on, a bit of silk that covered very little. He helped her with her jeans, drawing them over her hips as she hiccupped and tensed again.
His palm pressed into her stomach, massaging the spasming muscles as she turned her head away from him and shuddered again.
“Has this happened before?” He turned to Sharone.
Sharone shook her head. “I haven’t seen her like this since the first tests. And Dr. Armani’s correct. It was never this bad. Extremely uncomfortable, but it wasn’t agonizing. Not like this. I would have told you, Alpha. I wouldn’t have let her suffer like this.” She nodded to Anya’s shaking body.
“Stop,” Anya groaned. “Just stop.”
He gave the girls a warning look, stroking Anya’s stomach slowly, easily, almost shaking himself with the fear that the agonizing contractions would return.
“Shit! Dammit! Fuck! Breeds are going to drive me into an early grave.” Armani slammed back into the examination room from her lab a half hour later, her dark face creased into a scowl, a million tightly woven braids bouncing with her movements.
Del-Rey’s head lifted.
“Hormone levels are normal.” She stopped, stared at Anya as Del-Rey felt fear crawl through his belly. “They’re normal, Del-Rey. This isn’t mating heat.”
“Then what is it?” he asked dangerously.
“I don’t know.” She looked on the verge of tears. “I ran every test. Everything. I have the best fucking analysis system that can be bought, begged or stolen. I rival the U.S. fucking government. And everything is showing normal.”
“Not possible,” he snarled, flashing his canines in warning. “Rerun your tests. She’s in pain, Armani. Do something. Give her something.”
“Like what?” she demanded. “Damm it, Del-Rey, Coyote physiology is just different enough to make me crazy. Your DNA has affected her; that means she’s just different enough to make it dangerous. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”