to run, data to collect and subjects to look after, no matter the hour. Skulking in the shadows of the building opposite, Toni watched the lab and analyzed the scents around it.
There was the oil and gas from the truck where it had parked, Wilson’s scent, the blood and cordite wrapped around it proof that he’d just come from the battlefield. The two doctors… She wrinkled her nose at those smells, ignoring them in favor of Foster’s.
It hit her like a punch to the gut. A deep, wildness that hijacked her senses and took them on a joyride. Heat rolled over her skin again, a shiver running through her as she recalled his lips on hers, the way his body felt under her—
With a snarl, she snapped herself out of the memory. Fuck it, this had to stop. She couldn’t go around mooning over a damn mutt and losing focus all the time. Not with Brent out for blood. Even though she’d beaten him this time, at some point all that rage would build up and he’d try again. If she was half-spaced daydreaming about a sexy as hell Lycan, Brent would tear her heart right out of her chest.
Shoving thoughts of desire to the back of her mind, she focused on the scents.
Most were hours old and fading. Apart from Foster’s. His was sharp and fresh. New. She narrowed her eyes and used the cover of a cloud passing over the moon to flit between the buildings at speed. Plastering herself flat to the wall, she scanned up and down the road. No guards had seen her. They shouldn’t be paying too much attention to what was going on in camp but one never knew. All it would take was for one to look the wrong way at the wrong time and wonder what the hell a Blood was doing around the Lycan labs.
She crept along the wall, all senses on alert as she checked out the double doors and a loading door farther down. This one had been used a lot, myriad scents assaulting her. She stopped and took a deep breath. Dragged the air over her tongue and started to sort them. No, she’d been wrong. Foster’s scent from when they’d dropped him off earlier had faded. The reason it was so strong was because there was a second scent trail.
They’d moved him.
Why?
Dread curled insidious fingers deep into her gut. God, please…they hadn’t? Her heart thudding against her ribcage, she set off on the scent trail. The wolf was smart. He wouldn’t have caved and given Fritz what he wanted so quickly.
Surely?
Fear for him lent wings to her heels. What if he hadn’t? What if Fritz’s guards had gotten too heavy-handed when questioning him? She knew Lycans were hardy, but just how hardy? As hardy as she was? Less? Fuck. Stupid mutt should’ve just pretended to be unconscious.
She followed the trail through the camp, through the barracks and past the motor pool to the hangars at the far reaches. Gravel crunched underfoot, a fleeting auditory footnote to mark her journey through the night. No need to worry about the guards—not back there—and she was moving too fast for them to see her in the dark anyway.
The scent led to the biggest hangar at the back. Toni skirted the building, her eyes wide and senses on alert. Automatically she kicked into professional mode, assessing the threat level as she worked her way nearer.
They’d brought Foster in the side, not through the main hangar doors, but a set of doubles in the side of the building. She studied the entrance from the shadows afforded by a dumpster point. The receptacle itself was long gone, but the brick and wooden structure was still there. Easy cover in the middle of the concrete.
The door was locked with a keypad. Sparkly new in the middle of the weather-beaten and sun bleached wall. She sighed. Fritz wasn’t too good at concealing his tracks. Which was great—made things easier for her. Even though she could have cracked the keypad within seconds, a slight motion in the darkness got her attention. A camera was mounted above the door, panning back and forth in a slow arc. She watched it for a
There was the oil and gas from the truck where it had parked, Wilson’s scent, the blood and cordite wrapped around it proof that he’d just come from the battlefield. The two doctors… She wrinkled her nose at those smells, ignoring them in favor of Foster’s.
It hit her like a punch to the gut. A deep, wildness that hijacked her senses and took them on a joyride. Heat rolled over her skin again, a shiver running through her as she recalled his lips on hers, the way his body felt under her—
With a snarl, she snapped herself out of the memory. Fuck it, this had to stop. She couldn’t go around mooning over a damn mutt and losing focus all the time. Not with Brent out for blood. Even though she’d beaten him this time, at some point all that rage would build up and he’d try again. If she was half-spaced daydreaming about a sexy as hell Lycan, Brent would tear her heart right out of her chest.
Shoving thoughts of desire to the back of her mind, she focused on the scents.
Most were hours old and fading. Apart from Foster’s. His was sharp and fresh. New. She narrowed her eyes and used the cover of a cloud passing over the moon to flit between the buildings at speed. Plastering herself flat to the wall, she scanned up and down the road. No guards had seen her. They shouldn’t be paying too much attention to what was going on in camp but one never knew. All it would take was for one to look the wrong way at the wrong time and wonder what the hell a Blood was doing around the Lycan labs.
She crept along the wall, all senses on alert as she checked out the double doors and a loading door farther down. This one had been used a lot, myriad scents assaulting her. She stopped and took a deep breath. Dragged the air over her tongue and started to sort them. No, she’d been wrong. Foster’s scent from when they’d dropped him off earlier had faded. The reason it was so strong was because there was a second scent trail.
They’d moved him.
Why?
Dread curled insidious fingers deep into her gut. God, please…they hadn’t? Her heart thudding against her ribcage, she set off on the scent trail. The wolf was smart. He wouldn’t have caved and given Fritz what he wanted so quickly.
Surely?
Fear for him lent wings to her heels. What if he hadn’t? What if Fritz’s guards had gotten too heavy-handed when questioning him? She knew Lycans were hardy, but just how hardy? As hardy as she was? Less? Fuck. Stupid mutt should’ve just pretended to be unconscious.
She followed the trail through the camp, through the barracks and past the motor pool to the hangars at the far reaches. Gravel crunched underfoot, a fleeting auditory footnote to mark her journey through the night. No need to worry about the guards—not back there—and she was moving too fast for them to see her in the dark anyway.
The scent led to the biggest hangar at the back. Toni skirted the building, her eyes wide and senses on alert. Automatically she kicked into professional mode, assessing the threat level as she worked her way nearer.
They’d brought Foster in the side, not through the main hangar doors, but a set of doubles in the side of the building. She studied the entrance from the shadows afforded by a dumpster point. The receptacle itself was long gone, but the brick and wooden structure was still there. Easy cover in the middle of the concrete.
The door was locked with a keypad. Sparkly new in the middle of the weather-beaten and sun bleached wall. She sighed. Fritz wasn’t too good at concealing his tracks. Which was great—made things easier for her. Even though she could have cracked the keypad within seconds, a slight motion in the darkness got her attention. A camera was mounted above the door, panning back and forth in a slow arc. She watched it for a
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