Lora Leigh - Rule Breaker

“You’ve had enough,” Lawe finally told him, realizing Rule seemed determined to drink himself into a fighting drunk.

Not a good thing.

What the hell was going on here?

“Not yet, I haven’t,” Rule sighed. “I’m still conscious.”

...

It wasn’t the bleak darkness that filled him that had him drinking. It wasn’t anger or resentment; he even understood why Gypsy needed this time with her family first.

Sort of, anyway.

It was that damned Lion driving him insane. He could feel his instincts—fuck instincts—he could feel the Lion snapping at him furiously, demanding that he go to Gypsy now. That he force this whole “do you love me?” issue.

It was sickening. He’d be damned if he would do it. He wasn’t going to beg her for shit.

He frowned thoughtfully. Hell, maybe he was just going crazy.

More than one Lion Breed had gone feral after escaping the Genetics Council’s labs. It wasn’t unheard of for any Breed to slip into the feral rages and never return. Was that what was happening to him now?

Except mated Breeds didn’t go feral.

There wasn’t a single instance of mated Breeds slipping into feral fever. As though the mating itself stabilized the creature’s rage.

“Return to your mate, brother,” Rule sighed wearily as the bartender set the whiskey and beer in front of him.

“It’s not safe here,” Lawe sighed. “If you’re going to drink yourself to a stupor, then I’ll stay with you until you’re ready to return to the hotel.”

Rule shook his head. “Not returning yet. If I don’t get a little bit drunker, then I might embarrass myself.”

He’d be damned if he was going to beg her to love him. He had some pride. He had some self-control.

He lifted the shot, tossed it back, and thought with a measure of comfort that the bite of the alcohol wasn’t nearly as fierce this time.

Staring back at his brother, Rule was amused to see the concern in Lawe’s eyes. No doubt, at the first opportunity—he snickered at the two Breeds that entered the bar. Ah well, perhaps he’d been smart enough to call in reinforcements before entering.

He turned his gaze back to his brother broodingly.

“Babysitters?” he asked.

Lawe shrugged, the gesture dismissive. “I assume they’re here for a drink.”

Were they now?

Loki—that lying fucking Coyote and his master Dog—or was Jonas the master of both? Some days he wondered which Breed knew his own path and which Breed was merely content to allow Jonas to guide him.

He grinned at the two Coyotes. “How you two have managed to escape Jonas’s matchmaking is what I want to know.”

Dog’s brow arched with a measure of polite indulgence before glancing at Lawe. “Drunk already, is he?”

“He’s getting there,” Rule assured the three of them.

Lawe grunted at that, spearing a look in Dog’s direction as they seemed to share some unspoken message.

Placing the glass to his side, Rule lifted the beer to his lips, and once again, when he lowered it, barely half of the brew remained.

“I believe the reason your brother came looking for you”—Loki was the one to speak, the graveled tone of his voice always making Rule wonder what torture the Council scientists had devised to destroy his voice in such a way—“was to drag you back to our esteemed director for debriefing.”

“I turned in my report.” He frowned, but the statement forestalled the next order.

Why wait between each drink? Why the hell was he getting slowly drunk when he could do so in a few hours, rather than one drink per hour?

Efficiency, he reminded himself, beginning to lift his hand to indicate more when Loki’s hand was suddenly securing his wrist.

The animal reacted, existing far too close to the skin at the moment; the affront became an insult of unimagined proportion. Before any knew his intent, he lashed out with his right arm, his fingers curled into a fist of iron that plowed into Loki’s face before the Coyote could avoid it.

He didn’t even have a second to enjoy the surprise that immediately transformed the Coyote’s face before he was thrown back, chair and all—Rule couldn’t help but laugh at the sight—and went flying backward.

Rule slapped his thigh, laughing so hard that he admitted he just might be a bit drunk after all.

Looking at Lawe and Dog, the complete shock on their faces, the widening of their eyes as their heads jerked from the sight of Loki sprawled out on the floor to Rule’s laughter, had him laughing harder.

Until the animalistic snarl sounding through the room suddenly slammed into him.

He didn’t go flying.

Rule shook the sudden scattered lights from his vision before turning his head, very slowly, and loosing the animal snapping at his senses.

“Fuck. Rule. You struck first.” Lawe was suddenly between them, directing a glare at Dog. “Contain your man.”

“Contain my man?” He pulled a slim cigar from the leather vest he wore, his smile tight as he inserted it between his lips and retrieved a set of matches from another pocket.

They all watched as though fascinated as he lit the tobacco. Until Rule looked over Lawe’s shoulder to see Loki, his lips drawn back from the curved fangs, his eyes lit with an inner fire that was frankly freaky.

Rule had to laugh at the sight.

Then Loki grabbed Lawe and tossed him out of the way before his brother could anticipate the move and compensate. Thrown off balance, he landed on his ass, snarling. “Fuck it. Kill his ass, Rule.”

His senses opened. Hell no, he didn’t fight fair. His brother’s mate wasn’t here right now and neither was his own, and he was drunk. He might need a little extra—

It was all he could do not to laugh as his left fist went for Loki’s face, struck and threw the Coyote into his commander. The cigar went one way and Dog went the other with a snarl . . .

“Hell yeah,” he whooped. “Let’s get it on.”

Gypsy stared at the sight of her bruised, banged, freshly showered lover . . . mate, she amended, and had to hold back a smile as she watched him sleep.

Bullying him into the shower hadn’t been as hard as she had anticipated. Of course, she’d had to put up with groping hands trying to pull her in with him. Thankfully, her full-grown Lion Breed male had simply been too damned drunk to really put much strength into it.

Come morning, his eye was going to be horribly swollen, and his lip was split. He swore Loki had cracked a rib, while Dog must have punctured his lung with a fist.

Lawe was still laughing like a loon when he and Jonas dumped Rule inside the suite and glared at her as though it was all her fault.

And maybe it was.

She’d felt the horrible aloneness circling her as she dealt with her family and her own emotions. It was only for a few hours, she’d told herself, and then she intended to fix it.

She hadn’t intended for him to get all drunk and rowdy while he waited, but that was exactly what he had done. Though Lawe assured her Dog and Loki looked worse.

Thinking of Loki brought her sister to mind. Kandy had listened as Gypsy had explained Mark’s death, and her father had explained, or tried to explain, their mother.

When it was over, Kandy had just shaken her head, turned and left her parents’ home. When Gypsy had left as well and looked over to the apartments, she realized that the black heavy-duty pickup that had been parked just down the street wasn’t there any longer.

Loki had been all but staying with her sister for weeks and Gypsy hadn’t realized it. Until now.

What had happened that the Coyote Breed was no longer taking up space in one of the few parking spots on the back street, or in her sister’s apartment?