They had stolen his mind. Hell, they might have stolen his soul.
“Still claiming Lion status are you?” Lobo questioned lazily.
“Registered and everything,” Graeme growled back at him. “Do you have a problem with me, boss?”
“No, no problem at all.” Lobo shook his head. “But, perhaps you have a problem with me.”
That one stopped him.
“What kind of problem?” Graeme asked carefully, allowing his suspicion to show rather than hiding it behind a wall of stoicism as he would have before coming to the Reever lands.
“A problem concerning my loyalty to those who give me theirs,” he stated softly. “You’ve proven yourself more than once, and I’ve expressed several times that loyalty goes both ways here. I’m not a man you have to lie to, unless you’re out to deceive me.”
“I’ll spread the word, boss.” Graeme nodded, staring back at Reever as though uncertain where he was going with the chastisement. “I’ll assure each of them, of my own personal belief that you mean every word you’re saying too.”
Yeah, right. This man and Jonas Wyatt were rumored to be thick as fucking thieves. And Wyatt was overturning every fucking stone in New Mexico searching for the Bengal he had that APB on. That would be one stupid fucker if he trusted Lobo with his identity.
Lobo’s lips quirked in amusement. “You do that, Graeme,” he murmured. “You do that.” Then he turned back to the security glass and stared at the prisoner as he crossed his arms over his chest and stroked his jaw thoughtfully. “Have you called the medic?”
“Yep. He’ll be here soon.” Graeme leaned against the wall, his lips curling in amusement as he glanced at the prisoner himself. “I think he’s going to need rehydration soon though. The bastard keeps pissing himself.”
Lobo grunted at that. “Coward.”
“Now, boss, maybe he just doesn’t have very strong kidneys, ya know? What do they call that? Inconsistency or some shit?”
“Incontinence,” Lobo snorted.
“Or something.” He shrugged. “I’ll have the medic strap an IV to his ass and rehydrate him so we can help him relieve himself again.”
“We’re keeping him?” Lobo asked, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Graeme’s intent.
“Why not,” Graeme drawled. “The boy has friends. Long-association-type friends. Those kinds of friends come looking for you when you’re missing.”
“Loyalty,” Lobo murmured then, still staring at the prisoner.
“Stupidity,” Graeme retorted. “But, I can work with that kind of stupidity if given a chance.”
Lobo nodded. “Very well, see what you can do with it. You have three days to draw his friends out, then I want him stitched up, patched up and ready to fly out to Haven to appear before the Wolf Breed Tribunal for sentencing. He struck against a Wolf Breed and conspired to kidnap one to turn her over to research. That’s a capital offense and only the Tribunal can sentence him for it.”
“Only if he survives the transfer.” Graeme smiled coldly. “Stupid bastards like that try to escape, get killed and save the Tribunal hours of needless debate and months of protests by humans.”
Lobo chuckled at that. “Yeah, but hell, they like their little amusements as well.” The look he gave Graeme was one he assumed brooked no refusal.
Graeme let him keep thinking that. For the moment.
“Gotcha, save him for Tribunal amusement. Check.” He tipped his fingers to his forehead in a careless salute.
“And you let me know if that Bengal with the APB out on him needs a friend,” Lobo reminded him as he turned to leave. “I make a hell of a friend, Graeme. A bad enemy to make, but a hell of a friend.”
With one last glance over his shoulder, Lobo left the room and closed the door behind him.
Whew.
Now that was what a Breed could consider a damned good close call.
Especially a Breed with an APB out on his ass and a Bureau director determined to reel him in like a fish on a hook.
Graeme had never considered himself reelable. Or hookable.
He grinned at the image before taking his seat and releasing the electronic lock to the door the medic used to access the cells.
“Be careful of that one, Doc,” he spoke into the mic as the medic made his way across the cement floor. “He likes to water his cot a bit.”
“You terrorizing the prisoners again, Graeme?” the Breed chuckled.
It wasn’t their first prisoner, or the first one Graeme had caused to piss himself.
“It’s getting too damned easy to do it, Doc,” he answered. “We need to find prisoners made of sterner stuff. Why don’t you put out a memo to all those weak-assed soldiers the Council keeps sending. We need someone tougher to play with.”
“Right. Memo. Send sterner stuff,” the medic laughed as Graeme opened the cell and watched the medic and two Wolf Breed guards enter the barred enclosure.
“Yeah,” Graeme murmured. “Send sterner stuff. At least give me a fucking challenge.”
He snorted at that.
That wasn’t possible. It wasn’t possible because the best they’d had to offer at any given time had already had their playdates with him. He was alive, they were dead. Every last one of them.
Screams echoed in his head, agony sliced through his veins. A scream of rage built in his throat as the memories surged through his head and tempted the beast he’d managed to chain.
His claws flexed and his body tensed to jump from the chair as the insane rage that had festered in him for so many years threatened to slip free once again.
At the last second, he managed one last rational thought.
His lifeline.
Gentle eyes. The scent of moonlight and shy laughter.
“Who are you?” she whispered, her head tilting to the side as the colors of the desert shaded her head and brushed across her shoulders in the silken strands. “If you’re here to kill me, why not just do it and get it over with.”
Oh, he was there to kill her.
The animal could taste her blood, salivated for it as the insanity the man lived within relished the moment.
“What makes you think I’m here to kill you? Can’t I enjoy the night as well? Besides, I was here first. You’re the one that found me, not the other way around.”
He felt her surprise. Hell, it was no less than his own. He imagined the animal snarled at him in complete shock, questioning the seemingly rational tone of voice he used.
“Did I find you?” She smiled. Right there, staring into the shadows where he hid, the faintest little smile as her arms relaxed just a bit where they were crossed over her breasts.
“What do you call it?” he asked her as he leaned against the rough stone of the cliff at his side. “I was standing here minding my own business when you sneaked up on me. I call that finding me.”
What the hell was happening to him?
He could smell her, he knew her for who she was rather than who others thought her to be. Her scent was just as sweet as it had ever been, unmarred by the filth of male possession or the acrid stink of lies and deceptions.
There was just the smell of the woman, the moonlight, regret, a hint of fear, and perhaps, hell, there was the faintest scent of weariness and desire.
She shook her head, her confusion scenting the air between them. “I didn’t even know you were here. I used to come out here all the time just to enjoy the night.”
“So why did you stop? Better yet, why return the minute I decided to enjoy the view here? Maybe I should be scared of you.” How the hell was he so calm? How had he managed to remember what it was like to tease her so gently and watch that shy pleasure as it began to warm her gaze?