He rose, and before they could move, they found themselves facing what Anya knew were not the good Coyotes. She swore she could smell them. A stink like blood and death as they smiled coldly.
“Well, it’s the princely whelp,” one of them sneered. “Move away from her.”
Jax pushed her behind him instead. Anya stumbled against the fence before gripping the back of his coat.
“Let him go,” she cried out. “Leave him alone.”
She couldn’t let Jax be hurt. For whatever reason, the young Breed was more important to Del-Rey than the others. He made Del-Rey laugh. She couldn’t let that be taken from him.
She pushed to the side, sidling away, knowing the Coyotes would follow her. She could hear the shouts, the roars and howls of rage now filling the gardens.
“Coya, no.” Jax held his hand out, trying to push her back. “Dammit, Del-Rey will take my f**king throat out.”
“If there’s a throat left to take out.” The Coyote lifted his weapon. “Good-bye, little prince.”
Anya jumped, pushing at Jax as the shot fired and she felt the flames that suddenly enveloped her body.
Jax screamed out to her. Howls of rage filled her mind as she felt herself go to her knees and the ice inside her seemed to fill her veins.
“Anya!” She heard Del-Rey scream as she looked up.
The two council Coyotes were on the ground, bloody, dead. Del-Rey threw himself to her, sliding in beside her on his knees, his hands reaching for her as she looked down, down, to her side and the blood soaking her shirt.
“Del-Rey?” She blinked back at him, crying, desperate when she saw the pure, startled horror that filled his face. “Smile for me,” she whispered as the lethargy began to sweep over her. “One more time, smile for me.”
Del-Rey caught her. His head tipped back as agony poured from his throat in a vicious, horrible howl. He shook with the grief, the rage as he picked her up, barely aware of Jax screaming out for doctors. Barely aware of anything but the smell of his mate’s blood.
Howls joined his, Coyote howls, ripping through the gardens, echoing through the mountains as he stumbled to his feet, holding her to his chest, and searched desperately for the doctor that had come with them.
“Armani!” he screamed out as he rushed inside the spa.
She was here. They had left her in the protection of the building.
“Del-Rey.” The doctor was there, rushing to his side. “Heli-jet is in the street, hurry.”
By her side were the two Coyote doctors. They were jabbering about inoculations, blood loss and fevers as he jumped into the jet.
“Lay her here.” A carrier was stretched out at his feet. “We have to get her to Medic. I have to stop the bleeding.”
Her shirt was ripped open and Del-Rey felt the fear that tore through him.
“Move, Ghost.” Alexi Chernov pushed him to the side. “Let me in there. Blood clotting should go fast,” he snapped to Armani as Del-Rey fell back. “The inoculations saved our lives when the Council nearly caught up with us. The boost to immunity has resulted in surprising little extras.”
“The blood flow isn’t as hard as it should be. We don’t know if the bullet hit an organ. Did it go out the back . . . ?”
The three doctors were shouting at one another as they surrounded her. The heli-jet lifted off, banked and shot through the sky to Haven as Del-Rey wiped his face with shaking hands and found tears on his cheeks.
His mate, his heart. She was bleeding, wounded. Her flesh was like fire to touch, her lips nearly blue. As Brim’s had once been. So cold.
He edged around until he was at her head, bent and laid his lips at her brow. “I love you, Coya,” he whispered. “Live for me, baby. Live for me. Because I can’t live without you.”
He stayed like that. He could warm her no other way. He held her head steady, his lips pressed to her forehead, and told himself it was the dampness of sweat that dripped to her brow rather than his tears.
Nikki Armani stood back in the surgical room of the medical facility in Haven and watched Chernov and Sobolova work steadily to stabilized Anya Kobrin.
Del-Rey sat by her side, his arm stretched out, a transfusion of his blood moving slowly from his strong wrist to his mate’s. His head rested beside hers, and sometimes, she swore she heard the big, rough Coyote praying.
Jonas, Wolfe, Callan, Hope, Dash Sinclair, his mate and daughter waited in the observation room, watching silently, their expressions somber.
“The hormonal fluctuations are too severe,” Katya Sobolova stated. “You can’t give such hormones during the fever. We need to counteract them.”
“She’s conceived,” Nikki argued then. “We can’t afford to mess with the hormones; it could harm the child.”
“You don’t give hormones to Coyotes in heat,” Katya stated. “It results in pregnancy every time. This we didn’t want the Council to know. From the creation of the first Coyote, our grandparents knew they were exceptional. Different in all ways. Their true potential was always hidden. That was the reason for the practice of killing their creators. That directive was given to them, even as babes. Their escapes resulted in their creators’ deaths. Destruction of all records. There were very few who could manipulate those genetics.”
Nikki stared at the other woman in shock. “That’s why the Council has been searching for you.”
Katya smiled. “We are two of the few Coyote scientists left living. There are no known records of the Coyotes now. Normally, Coyotes themselves took care of killing us. If not the Coyotes, then the doctors assigned to us. They knew their duty.” She glanced fondly at Anya’s still face. “This one, she hid us during that rescue. The doctors searched for us, but we stayed where she placed us for days, and finally we found another hidden exit from the room.”
“If the geneticists that worked on the Coyotes were Council, why make that directive?” Nikki shook her head in confusion.
“The past generations, our fathers and grandfathers, they, like us, could not tell the Council no. They would kill the families of those scientists as well. Our grandparents destroyed records and placed false ones instead. They reported that the Coyotes were as the Council wanted. Soulless, without mercy. They are without mercy, no doubt, but it was always easy to know those who would kill without compunction and those who would kill only when needed. So few Coyotes were created compared to other Breeds, that we were able to work together, pull those we knew were worthy to only certain labs where they would have a chance at life.” She shrugged. “Some of us succeeded, some did not. In Russia and in the Middle East, we succeeded. I hope you saved the scientist in charge there.” She glanced at Nikki. “Simply amazing. She was the brightest in our field for her young age. As though the Almighty reached down his hand and opened her mind to this area in a way no mind had ever been opened. Incredible.”