Miranda's Mate by Ann Gimpel Page B

work alone, so he made his agents do the same. It built creativity and guts if operatives had to solve all their problems with brains and courage—plus whatever they’d either brought with them or managed to filch or fashion in the field. The Company had a much lower ratio of agents who signed on to agents who finished training than any other outfit, but Garen believed he had a significantly higher quality of employee as a result.
    Miranda sashayed to his side. Garen couldn’t help himself. He licked blood off her snout. She licked him back and leaned into him, rubbing the side of her head against him. His wolf’s cock swelled within its furred sheath. If it weren’t so dangerous, he wanted nothing more than to claim her and sink inside her hot, wet folds. The bulb at the base of his cock would seal them together for long minutes—maybe as much as half an hour. During that time they’d be helpless. Reluctantly, he pulled away.
    “Let’s see if we can find another.” She tilted her head to one side and eyed him. “You look awfully familiar.”
    “I should,” he growled. “I’m your boss.” Garen blew air through his nostrils. Damn it. He’d hoped for anonymity. Should have known better. She’s too good an agent not to be on top of something as simple as this.
    “Not what I meant.”
    “Look sharp. I think we can pick off a couple more. I’ll take the guy on the right.” Garen trailed his prey and leaped at the last minute. Blood—hot, salty, and smelling of copper—slid down his throat, and he lost himself in the joy of the kill.
    He had to reclaim his human form before Miranda, with the instincts of a bloodhound, uncovered his secret. Of course he’d look familiar. He’d presided over the lycan group at every shifter gathering for the past several years. Fortunately, his pelt was about the same color as most of the other lycans, and she’d never gotten close enough to scent him. Thank God she wasn’t one of the many he’d mated with. Beyond the first flush of his excitement at discovering she was a shifter just like him, the reality of what it meant came crashing down. Why couldn’t she have been some other species? It would have made his life ever so much easier.
    He kept his identities scrupulously separate. No one knew the head of The Company was also the lycan leader, and he meant to keep it that way. Garen left his kill long before he wanted to and made his way to where he’d left their clothes. Reinforcements would arrive soon; they’d be fine as humans again. He wasn’t worried about her divulging his lycan side. After all, he had the goods on her too, but he couldn’t let their relationship go any further. She’d want to shift and run with him, and he couldn’t let that happen. If she saw him in wolf form under any kind of light, she’d know him for who he was.
    He was dressed by the time she made her way to his side. “I wondered what happened to you.”
    He used his mind voice since she was still in her lycan form. “The troops will be here soon. I’ll turn around and give you some privacy.”
    *
    What if I don’t want privacy? She’d been feeling pretty high. Adrenaline and killing bad guys always gave her a rush. Garen wolf-kissing her nose had been mighty incredible too. She’d hoped for more lupine foreplay, but here he was human again. And offering to turn around to boot. She would have liked it better if he’d ogled her while she got her clothes back on. The distant thump-thump of rotors told her Garen’s estimate had been spot on. She shifted and dressed. “It’s safe to turn around now.” She tried to keep the acid—and the hurt—out of her voice, but failed.
    Spotlights from the choppers brightened the moonless night. She saw his face clearly. It was a study in ambivalence. “We’ll talk, but not now. Check your gun. Make certain—”
    “I know all that, Daddy.” What am I doing? I work for him, and I just sounded insubordinate as hell. “Ah crap.