A little bad? Sometimes she felt in danger of being possessed by instincts she had no idea how to handle. Jonas had once said he sensed the battle between the Wolf and the Coyote she was created from and he wondered which would win in the end.
She had walked away from the discussion, terrified that he had seen that inside her. That battle between the good and the bad.
“I can’t exactly deny it.” She lifted her shoulders negligently. “Those genetics aren’t exactly hidden. Any Breed can smell them.”
Dog was watching her too closely now, staring at her as though she were a puzzle he needed to put together.
“You think the Coyote genetics are responsible for the hellion you keep hidden?” A grunt of laughter followed the question. “I don’t think so.”
“There’s no hellion hiding, Dog.” Picking up the phone and tablet, she moved for her room. Both needed to go in the pack she kept ready in case she had to leave quickly. “Though sometimes, being nice takes work.”
Sometimes, she wanted to tear into those who allowed their hatred of her to mark their scent, who allowed their distaste to touch her. Sensing it and actually smelling it were two different things. Allowing another Breed to scent those feelings was considered the ultimate insult.
“And you think Wolf Breeds or felines are naturally nice?” He laughed at the idea. “Baby, you are so determined to deny the little Coyote crouched and ready to defend itself that you amaze everyone who really knows you. Breeds aren’t nice. Doesn’t matter their designation. Just as humans aren’t really nice. They just hide it from each other better.”
Crouched and ready to defend itself? No, the Coyote was crouched and straining to attack at all times. It was the impulse to slip up behind the guards outside her room and prove she was just as deadly as they. It was the need to snarl in fury at the enforcers who had worked beneath her when they questioned her every order, every decision. It was a lifetime of resisting the desire to run from the protection her parents put around her, to strike against her enemies with deceptive stealth.
How many times had she been forced to run and hide at Sanctuary with her brother while her parents faced danger? Her father had trained her to fight, he’d trained her to be deadly, but when she’d had to use that training, he’d stared at her with such disappointment, she’d cringed inside.
She agreed with Dog, though. Breeds weren’t always nice. Not when dealing with the enemy or the prejudice that poured from humans. But they weren’t cruel either. They took each situation as it came and dealt with it. They didn’t bemoan their lives or whimper over the blood they had to shed, but neither did they want to shed that blood.
The need to shed blood was becoming harder and harder for her to dismiss, though.
“Cassie, aren’t you tired of playing the perfect little Breed princess?” he asked as she passed him. “Haven’t you gotten sick of being a good girl all the time? You’re not human. You can’t keep pretending you are.”
He had no idea what he was talking about.
Flashing him a furious look, she passed him and strode into her bedroom to the closet. There, she stored the phone and tablet. Before she reclosed it, the hilt of her knife caught her eye, as did the small, old-fashioned handgun. There were a dozen clips for the gun, loaded with deadly bullets, at the bottom of the bag. The knife was sheathed in a holster made to fit her thigh.
She kept them hidden because carrying them felt too natural, and more than once, the need to use them had been overwhelming.
The good versus the bad.
Her fingers glanced over the leather hilt before she forced herself to pull back and secure the flap once again.
She was aware of Dog moving in behind her, watching her, daring her.
Yeah, that was another failing she shared with him. Passing up the challenges and dares so mockingly thrown out to her by the Wolf Breeds who regarded her with such suspicion and distaste. So many times the need to meet those challenges had been like a fever that refused to abate.
She could feel it now, the Coyote pacing, straining at her control, demanding release. As she’d matured, the Coyote and Wolf genetics had fought to outpace each other. Dr. Armani still studied the phenomenon and had drawn Sobolova into it when she’d joined the Breeds’ medical and scientific community.
“You were eighteen,” Dog stated, moving farther into the room. “I was in that fucking atrium waiting for Jonas when you walked in, that virgin’s gown flowing around you. It wasn’t the Wolf Breed you were called in the media that stepped in that room. You were wild and restrained. Like an enraged Coyote, caged. And I wanted nothing more than to mark you that night.”
She’d wanted nothing more than to carry his mark that night, she realized. The restlessness that plagued her had been one of those periods when her Coyote genetics had reigned.
“I was caged,” she told him coolly. “I’m still caged.”
Rising to her feet, she closed the closet door, pushed back the needs tearing at her.
Dog chuckled behind her again. “What an intriguing scent,” he murmured, the amused drawl causing her to stiffen. “Are you pissed off, little halfling? Does it offend you that I don’t allow you to hide? To pretend you don’t possess all those nasty Coyote genetics?”
She turned to him, her gaze raking over him derisively. “Stop trying to start a fight, Dog. Go attack the Wolf guards again if you can’t control your need to be nasty.”
“My need to be nasty?” His expression turned calculating. “You think I’m trying to be nasty, mate?”
“You’re trying to be cruel and I don’t like it,” she stated, refusing to meet the dare in his eyes.
If she gave in, just once, then it would all be over. She’d never rein those impulses in again. She’d never regain control of herself or the creature all too willing to attack.