His grandfather. His creator. What-the-fuck-ever, Styx thought with a hint of cynicism. His grandfather was the man who had dreamed of bringing back the dead, only to learn the value of allowing the dead to rest in peace.
"Call me if you need me." Nikki lifted her hand as her assistant opened the door and stepped from the cabin. "I'll send some vitamins and more antibiotics once I get to the office. Now let her rest. No sexual hijinks until she's stronger."
Styx grunted at the order before moving with Nikki through the cabin to the front door.
Closing the door behind her, he didn't bother to lock it just yet. It was something he rarely did, preferring instead to face the challenge that if Haven did possess spies, as Sanctuary did, they would take the dare to enter his home.
Life could be lived to the fullest or he could hide and worry himself bald about the security he felt Breeds would never know. Styx preferred to live, and he was going to have to teach his mate to do the same.
Leaning against the door frame as he stared at the fragile form beneath the quilts that covered his bed, watching her, he wondered, not for the first time, how he had managed to end up in a situation such as this.
Almost mated? He snorted at the thought and wondered who the hell to blame for it.
He finally decided on Jonas Wyatt, the infuriating director of the Bureau of Breed Affairs who had given him the job of tracking the wee lass down. No doubt, the interfering bastard was practicing his matchmaking habits again. His Enforcers swore he did it deliberately.
He crossed his arms over his chest, tilted his head and pursed his lips as he considered the benefits of his investigation into an almost mating with his courageous little mate.
One damned thing was certain, he'd not be bored.
Not that he was often bored. There'd been a whole world out there to investigate and to enjoy before he found her. He had a feeling she would challenge him far more than the world ever had though.
Moving into the bedroom, he checked her temperature, tucked the blankets around her again and gazed down at her sleeping face.
She looked at peace for a change.
The tranquilizer she had been shot with hadn't been a powerful one, but the exhaustion and physical weakness had taken their toll on her.
He was betting this was this first decent sleep she'd had in years.
"She's damned pretty."
Styx swung around, his weapon clearing the holster on instinct even as he realized who spoke behind him. He cursed his apparent absorption with his mate, and accepted it at the same time, and blamed it for the fact that he hadn't heard his "grandfather" slip into the cabin.
"You're gonna get yourself killed, my friend," he informed him as he holstered the weapon just as quickly.
A single gray brow lifted as mocking amusement filled Dougal Mackenzie's expression. "I hear there's some question of the mating?" he asked as he entered the bedroom. "I met Nikki outside. She seems to think the mating heat is reacting to a distrust you have of the girl?"
Hell, the old man was going to nosy. That was just what he needed.
"Don't you have your own mate to worry about?" Styx grunted. He was still damned uncomfortable with the fact that his biological grandfather had mated one of the older Wolf Breed females.
Not that there were many of them. Animera had been in her forties when the lab she had been created in, in France, had been liberated. The small facility had housed four Breeds, all females, that were once trained and used as whores for the Council.
Animera was as beautiful as any Breed, though harder than many. Once she had met Dougal, that stony outer shell had cracked though, and the woman hiding within had emerged.
They were a good match, yet watching the man who called himself Styx's "grandfather" becoming younger as the years wore on was damned uncomfortable.
The mating phenomenon was complicated, confusing and had the potential to destroy the Breeds, especially if Dougal's unique reaction to it were ever learned.
"You're staring at me as though I'm a freak again," Dougal snapped. "Don't let's turn this into yelling match, boy."
Styx grunted. "I don't have time for you today." He moved to the door and motioned Dougal to the living room.
"Doesn't surprise me," Dougal grunted. "Ye've not had time for me since Animera and I mated."
Styx grimaced as he headed for the kitchen and the coffee. This man who had created him, called himself his grandfather and insisted on interfering in his life had the ability to make him damned nervous.
"I've been busy," he lied without so much as a twinge of guilt.
Dougal snorted at the excuse. "Ye've been runnin'. What makes ye so damned uncomfortable around me now, boy? The fact that I'm happy for a change?"
"The fact that in the past eight years you seem to have regressed in age a good ten?" Styx questioned him mockingly. "Sorry, Pops, I guess I'm just not used to it. It throws a mon off just a wee bit." Dougal ignored the comment. This was the way of every argument they had. Styx couldn't explain why he was having problems with it, he just knew he was. Give it another six to ten years and his grandfather would look more like his brother.
"I'm sending after the equipment we hid in Scotland," Dougal said then, changing the subject. "Animera and I will be settin' a lab up here to aid Dr. Armani. The equipment we hid is more specialized, some of the technology more advanced than what Vanderale and Lawrence Industries have been providing. I'd like to see if we can't do more to figure out the problem of conception with the Wolf Breeds."
"Perhaps we weren't meant to conceive," Styx growled as he turned to glare at the other man. "The Feline mates conceive fine without help. Hell, they need birth control rather than conception aids. Let nature figure it out herself."
"You don't have the luxury of time, Styx," Dougal retorted, as he had in the past.
"Then we'll make the luxury."
Styx shrugged. Hell, he didn't want to argue over this. He wanted to curl up in the bed with his mate and warm her, to ensure she was never cold again.
"That may not be possible," Dougal warned him, his tone far too somber now. "My contacts within the Council Directorate's ranks called this morning. The Coyote they had chasing her was found in his hotel room this morning, dead. He'd been shot in the back of the head. The weapon used was the same the Montague girl used last month when she wounded one of their soldiers. They're assembling a team to find her."
The bastard had been executed. It served Farce right, and Styx was pretty certain Dog had been the executioner.
"Any word on where they're concentrating their search?" Styx asked.
Dougal shook his head. "My contact said they're being damned quiet about it, but they want that girl more now than they did a month ago."
They were more careful now. The Directorate ensured that they were never in any way associated with the Breeds or the trainers and scientists that still worked for their cause. World sentiment was currently strong enough against the Breeds that prison sentences were being passed down on the few that had gone to trial in the past years.
The Directorate was careful, but they were still lethal. The fact that a team had been assembled to bring Storme in worried Styx.
"I'll take care of it," he assured Dougal.
"Be careful, lad," Dougal sighed. "You may be uncomfortable with the fact that we're family, but that's what we are. You and your brothers and sister are still my life. Losing any of you would break my heart."
Dougal stepped closer and much to Styx's consternation wrapped his arms around his shoulders for a quick hug.
"You're important to us as well, dammit." Styx raked his fingers through his hair as he stepped back and glared at him. "Cannot ye keep the mushy stuff for your mate and just continue as we were? Hell, Pops, give her the hugs."