That theory wasn’t working very well. They couldn’t figure it out. The drug seemed to have mutated inside him, whereas they could no longer find traces of it inside Amber.
In a matter of no more than eight weeks, the changes that had been wrought in Phillip Brandenmore were horrifying. But other than a few anomalies, Amber seemed to be thriving as any other infant would be.
“What if I wasn’t certain?” he mused when she said nothing more. “What if the recipe was one I found, the notes indicating success?”
Ely froze.
She stared at the files she’d pulled up on the holo-comp’s grid and prayed he’d continue with his musings. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t.
“Are you listening to me, Ely?” he asked.
“I’m listening, Phillip,” she assured him with apparent absentmindedness as she continued as though she were concentrating on the files on the grid.
She heard him sigh heavily.
“I’m dying Ely,” he stated. “I wasn’t supposed to die.”
“You killed yourself, Phillip,” she reminded him.
A rough chuckle sounded from him, a wheezing, ugly sound.
“Angels await me,” he sighed.
“Last I heard demons inhabit hell, Phillip.”
“Fallen angels, beauty and grace, the most beautiful of God’s angels. Then man thought he could be God, and create a creature in his image. Beings of beauty and grace. And they betrayed us, as do all beings betray their maker.”
She shuddered at the reverence in his tone and the sense of omnipotence in his words.
“If we couldn’t control the creations, could we become the creations?”
Ely turned slowly.
He was watching her. Sly. Knowing. He knew she was listening to every word that passed his lips.
“Project Omega.” He nodded to the file on the screen. “It came from there. From where her Breed was created. From where he was trained. From where his brother died.”
Ely knew that. Brandenmore had funded that lab. He had researched there. He had tortured Breeds there.
Ely turned back to the files, staring at them. He always talked about the Omega lab. It was his favorite of those he’d worked within and those he’d funded. It was there the mated couples they’d found were taken, and there that the breakthroughs in mating heat had been made.
The answers to the formula he’d injected himself with had to be there. It could save him, and she wasn’t certain she was doing anyone a favor in saving him. But in saving him, they would save Amber as well.
“He controls his animal,” Brandenmore sighed. “Ahh, such training. Such insight into the Breed mentality and creation there, even all those years ago. Insight into the genetics, into training, into the psychology and physiology of each Breed. They were the masters of genetics.”
He rambled and Ely let him. Unobtrusively she turned on the lab recorder rather than relying on security video and audio alone.
And as she pretended to ignore him, pretended not to believe him, for the first time Phillip Brandenmore gave out a few clues, just enough for her to start working on, just a few directions to lead her to the answers she needed.
And, she prayed, at least a clue as to the direction to take to save Mica.
What now?
Navarro paced his suite, the restlessness he’d fought to contain building inside him despite his attempts to hold it at bay. It was like a million electrical pinpricks racing beneath his flesh. Irritating, the reminder that there was more to him than he wanted to admit. That his genetics were those of an animal, a predator. And that predator wanted out. It wanted free.
It wanted its mate.
Recessed genetics were rare in Breeds, or perhaps it was that known surviving recessed Breeds were rare. Most Council scientists had terminated recessed Breeds in the womb if they were detected. If not, then they were usually terminated at birth.
But there were those few who had used the recessed infants for further research. They had kept some, others had been given to adoptive parents and kept under close supervision. Others, like Navarro, lived between the two worlds.
He’d been placed with his birth mother’s parents after his tenth birthday. His nanny had been Council, his bodyguard had been a Council trainer, and his pediatrician had been a Council scientist. And he’d always known, always been aware that each day of his grandparents’ lives hinged on his perfect adaptation of the Breed they wanted him to be.
The Infiltrator. The Breed with the ability to move between both worlds. The human world, and the world of a Breed assassin.
He raked his fingers through his hair, grimacing as he inhaled roughly, searching for the scent of her, the action unconscious, primal. And he couldn’t stop it.
He couldn’t smell her. Not the scent of her or the arousal of her. He was at this moment truly recessed in ways he had never been.
Protection.
It was the only way to rein in the animal searching for her, the one intent on throwing him back into mating heat.
It was mating heat, or lose her.
He’d seen it in Callan, Jonas, and Dane Vanderale’s gazes. They’d actually considered Josiah’s suggestion that he should be banned from her. No doubt they were discussing it now.
Like hell.
There wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to allow it.
Pulling the sat phone free of the holster at his hip, against his better judgment, he put a call through to Dash Sinclair.
It was the height of idiocy and he knew it, but he was damned if he knew who else to talk to at this point. He had no idea what was left.
“Navarro,” Dash answered the call quickly. “Talk to me.”
There was a wealth of suggestion in his voice, a controlled command from a man, a Breed, who had known nothing but command for most of his life.
“She’s mine!” There was no other way to put it. “If they try to ban me from her, there will be a war.”
Silence filled the line.
“I know from Dr. Armani that the mating heat has disappeared,” Dash said. “Your genetics are making you crazy. It feels as though there’s something beneath your flesh threatening to break free. As though those genetics are creating an animal inside you that’s fighting to be free.” He paused, and Navarro remained silent, waiting until Dash continued. “Why do you think I asked if you had mated her, Navarro? Why do you think you’ve been watched so closely around her?”
“You could have told me.”
“And have you hoping for a mating that might never happen?” he asked. “Just because I mated didn’t mean you would. It doesn’t mean any other recessed Breed will. I had hoped you’d come to me once you experienced the first symptoms.”
Navarro grunted at that. “Who knew? I kissed her the night of the attack against Haven and there was nothing.”
Frustration roughened his voice. “There was nothing, Dash. I assumed she was safe.”
“Safe?”
Navarro grimaced again. “Hell. Yeah. Safe. I won’t say I haven’t wanted her, we both know I have. Bad. But I tried to keep her out of mating heat. I came in slow, Dash. Touches here and there, a kiss to the cheek. A kiss to the lips only. I tried to keep this from happening.”
“And I warned you, you couldn’t expect normal mating symptoms as a recessed Breed, Navarro,” Dash growled with an edge of anger.
“You didn’t say to expect no symptoms at all,” Navarro snarled.
The primal rasp had him stilling instantly, the loss of control a warning so deeply ingrained he couldn’t ignore it.
“Do you want to lose her, Navarro? Is it what you want, to have the one thing you could call your own taken from you?”