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Wake a Sleeping Tiger

Wake a Sleeping Tiger

Lohra

5.0
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They were created; they weren't born. They were trained; they weren't raised. They were genetic creations. Human DNA merged with that of the animal. The perfect soldier, a disposable creature. They were created to die, often in the most horrible experiments that the human mind could ever imagine. Their lives were a horror story from the moment of their births. Babes that knew no tender care, no sweet lullabies nor a mother's love. They cried until hoarse, until they learned no one was coming unless they required feeding. And many times, they were allowed to go hungry until they lay weak and in pain. Only the most basic of service was given to the babes. Creations that millions, billions of dollars had gone into in more than a century of scientific experiments and genetic engineering. "Cubs," they were called, never "babes," but they were living beings that, in terms of the cost of their creation, were nearly priceless. Yet in the eyes of those who made them, they were worth no more than the young women who died giving birth to one after another of the creations implanted in their wombs. Human and animal. Determined and far stronger in both spirit and body than the scientists could have ever envisioned. Despite the cruelties heaped upon their young bodies, the experiments, the demented training exercises designed to ensure their success in any mission they were given, many of them survived. The strength of their hatred, of their hunger for freedom, refused to allow them to pass quietly from the world they'd been brought into. Those creations are free now. They're triumphing against all efforts to see them back in the labs from where they came. Their intelligence is far greater than any could ever comprehend. Their strength is more primal than any could ever suspect. And they're living on the fragile, desperate hope that the world never learns the secrets they fight to hide.

Chapter 1 Breeds

Five in the morning was too damned early for a knock on his front door. He

was barely out of bed and showered. His coffee was still dripping into the

cup and he hadn't even had a chance to strap his weapon on.

Cullen Maverick liked things in order whenever possible. It made life a

hell of a lot easier.

Pulling his weapon from his side holster, he made his way to the front

door, confident that if a threat awaited outside, then it wasn't directed by

forces other than a normal workday upheaval. As commander of the Navajo

Covert Law Enforcement Agency, he'd made a few enemies over the years.

Those enemies weren't the ones he watched out for, though. It was the

enemies he'd made as a teenager that worried him.

The knock came again, firm though not masculine in the least.

Recognizing the sound, a direct knock without pounding, he knew instantly

who it was without questioning how he knew. His lips almost quirked into a

smile.

A quick look outside the narrow window next to the door showed a

slender feminine figure dressed in jeans and a light jacket. One of the junior

members of the force, she'd been on a few operations, though he'd refused

to give the go-ahead to move her higher.

Chelsea Martinez, with her black hair, brown eyes and dusky skin of

combined Navajo and Caucasian parents, stared at the door as though she

could will it open. She was a force to be reckoned with when she wanted to

be.

He should know; he was usually the one butting heads with her.

Swinging the door open as he leaned against the side of the wall, he

stared down at her somber, implacable expression with a slight smile.

Dawn was barely lighting the land outside, giving it an otherworldly,

quiet sense of solitude belied by the homes along the side of and facing his

own.

"You didn't call, so I assume this isn't life or death," he remarked when

she just stared up at him silently.

She'd been doing that a lot in the past few months, just staring at him as

though she expected something from him, as though he'd forgotten

something.

She cleared her throat, lips thinning, her gaze sliding from his for just a

second before jerking back.

"I need to talk to you." Quiet, intense, her demeanor wasn't threatening,

just too damned serious.

"Come on, I'll give you the first cup of coffee," he sighed heavily.

No doubt she was there to argue over her place in the Agency again.

She'd been pushing for some of the more dangerous assignments in the past

months. Covert Ops agents were kept quiet. They had no official uniforms,

didn't call attention to themselves. Chelsea was one of their more covert

agents, though she mainly worked in an assistant capacity at the office. She

could streamline files and people like nobody's business. Hell, her name

wasn't even officially listed with the Agency and he liked it that way. It

lessened any danger she might face and ensured he didn't have to worry

about losing a damned good friend because someone else blinked.

She was too young to be part of operations, he'd tried to explain to her,

to make her understand that he couldn't put her in the line of fire until her

training was far more seasoned.

"Here you go." Stepping into the kitchen, he removed that first cup of

coffee and placed it on the round table that sat in the middle of the darkened

room. "Flip a light on if you need to."

He rarely turned the lights on in the place simply because he spent the

least amount of time there as possible. It was a place to sleep and keep the

few possessions he owned. Mainly, his clothes.

Sometimes, the television screen set in the fridge door was on, but not

this morning. He hadn't had time yet to turn it on, and music would get on

his nerves after an hour or so.

"I'm fine," she assured him.

His night vision had improved over the past years. At first, he'd

questioned the change until realizing his twin, Gideon, was in the area. For

some reason the appearance of the Primal Bengal sibling had sharpened a

few of the recessed Breed traits Cullen possessed, but not enough to change

his life. Not enough to worry him.

"Let me get my coffee before we start, minx." He shot her a grin. That

solemn, sad expression was beginning to bother him in ways he couldn't

put a finger on.

"Of course." The answer wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear. "I

know how you are without that first cup."

There was no amusement in her tone, no teasing.

What the hell was up with her?

Leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest,

he frowned at her. Damn, she looked so sad, not angry or upset. There was a

sense of loss emanating from her, and he couldn't find a reason for it.

Pulling the cup free of the coffeemaker when it finished, he lifted it,

sipped and continued to regard her. She wasn't fidgeting in front of him,

wasn't acting in the least nervous as she usually did whenever she was

ready to put forth yet another position she could hold on an operation.

Anything to get her out of the office and to put her training to work, she'd

demand.

She was a member of the Breed Underground, she'd pointed out the last

time. She'd helped move juvenile and adult Breeds more than half a dozen

times, keeping them just ahead of the Genetics Council or pure blood

fanatics searching for them.

And yes, she had done that, but he didn't command the Breed

Underground. He couldn't disqualify her as a member of the forces that

aided hidden Breeds or mates, so he ground his teeth each time she went out

and argued with her cousins over it on a constant basis.

She was too innocent for covert work, too innocent to be scarred by the

crazies in the world.

"Spit it out," he sighed, lowering the cup and facing her quiet, intense

expression. "What have you come up with this time? What argument do

you think will sway me?"

She blinked a few times and if he wasn't mistaken her eyes actually

looked as though-were those tears?

What the hell had happened? Setting his coffee aside, he prepared to act,

to fix whatever had been done to bring tears to her eyes.

"Chelsea?" he questioned gently. "What's going on, honey?"

Cullen watched as she pulled back the front of her jacket, removed a

folded piece of white paper from inside it and slowly laid it on the table.

Cullen swore he felt the need to growl. One of those deep, dark rumbles

of dangerous warning he'd heard come from his twin's throat more than

once.

Every muscle in his body tensed and he knew, knew to the soles of his

damned feet what that simple piece of paper represented.

His gaze lifted to hers once again.

"You don't want to do this, Chelsea," he sighed. "Come on, honey, we

can talk about this."

They had to talk about it.

They were going to talk about it.

He'd be damned if he'd let her-

"It's my resignation from the Agency," she told him, her tone soft but

firm, determined.

She'd made her mind up. By God, she actually thought she'd made her

mind up to leave him-to leave the Agency. That she could just walk away.

He stared at it, glared at it.

If he had his way it would burst into flames and the memory of it would

dissipate along with the paper.

"The hell you are." Lifting his head, he directed that glare at her.

And she met it.

Not once did she flinch or look away. Not one time did she even pretend

to acknowledge his dominance. Hell, she didn't even consider it.

"The Agency isn't going to work for me, Cullen-"

"Because I don't let you run it?" he snapped. "You don't make the

decisions there, girl. If you did, 'Commander' would be sitting in front of

your name instead of mine."

There were times, few though they had been, that standing firm would

encourage her to back down. She had to back down on this.

She nodded sharply. "Agreed. But I never wanted to run it. I just wanted

to be a part of it, not a glorified running girl for you and the other agents.

That's not happening, so it's time I leave."

His jaw tightened with a surge of anger at once confusing and filled with

frustration.

"You won't give it time," he began, his back teeth grinding.

"I don't have any more time to give it, Cullen." Her lips tilted in

remorse as she lifted one hand out to him before dropping it just as quickly.

"It's just time, okay?"

"Time for what?" He stepped closer, though she chose that moment to

look away from him, unaware he was coming closer, that his refusal to

accept this was about to get up close and personal.

"Grandfather agrees it's time I go. That I find my own way . . . Cullen?"

She turned back, her gaze going first to where he was supposed to be, then

to the shadow suddenly at her side.

"Cullen?" Breathless, a woman's sound, one filled with surprise, a bit of

shock and a hint of apprehension as he swung her around, pulling her

against him, letting her feel the erection he had no intention of hiding from

her any longer.

And damn her. Her lips parted; her eyes, like soft melted chocolate,

stared up at him, widening, then turning slumberous as her breathing

escalated, her breasts rising and falling faster as he held her to him.

What the hell was wrong with him?

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She had to leave. Summer Calhoun, the woman the world knew as Summer Bartlett, was smart enough to know that this phase of her life was over. And though she wasnā€™t normally one to run, or to give up, even she couldnā€™t ignore the fact that she simply couldnā€™t do this anymore. Teeth clenched, battling tears and anger, Summer threw an armload of dresses into one of the suitcases lying open on the bed. Jamming the material into the leather bag, uncaring of the wrinkles and years of careful packing habits, she added more, pushing the frothy, girly material from the sides of the bag and stuffing them in before zipping the back with short, jerky movements. She promised herself she wasnā€™t going to cry. Tears didnā€™t help. They had never helped in the past and they damned sure wouldnā€™t help now. Nothing would help but getting away and running from the pain. Like serrated blades, the memories of the past few days sliced into her, tore at her. God, how naĆÆve she had been. Four years with the CIA, two with various other agencies, and two more risking her ass in the private sector should have killed any naivetĆ© she might have possessed long ago. Hell, she was certain it had done just that. And how very wrong sheā€™d been. So wrong that for eight years sheā€™d believed an enemy was a friend, and that insults were just a brasher attitude than those Summer was used to in the South. And because sheā€™d let herself be fooled, sheā€™d just spent three of the most hellish days of her life, two of them attending the funeral and burial of the very woman whose deceit and black heart had nearly destroyed far too many people Summer loved. Easing to the padded bench at the bottom of the bed and propping her face in her hands as she rested her elbows on her knees, she tried to tell herself it was the price of ignorance. Of not seeing the true nature of the woman sheā€™d known most of her life. The woman Summer had killed. The funeral had been somber, saddening, and subtly beautiful. Cascades of flowers, over a hundred friends and family mourning. Tears and heartrending testimonials for a woman no one had known for a traitor and a murderer. Summer had remained tearless through the viewings sheā€™d been forced to attend. Sheā€™d watched, listened, and taken her turn at the gleaming cherrywood casket where she stared into the pretty, silent features of the woman sheā€™d been forced to kill. A woman who had hated her, whose jealousy and greed had destroyed so many over the years. Summer had remained just as silent during the burial, her head lowered, so much anger burning inside her that keeping it hidden was next to impossible. However, she had no other choice. Because sheā€™d killed the woman they were laying to rest. Because it was her bullet, not an enemyā€™s, that had slammed into Gia Barrettā€™s black heart. And God forbid that the world should learn about the womanā€™s crimes, crimes that would shame her way too influential family. Questions would be asked if Summer and the man Gia had turned her weapon on hadnā€™t been there for the partner the world believed was so kind and warm of spirit. Money talked, and the Barrett family had plenty of it. Enough to ensure that the world would never know the true reason their daughter was dead. She could have refused to be there, Summer knew. She could have found a quiet place to nurse the wounds gouged inside her heart if it werenā€™t for the man Gia was trying to murder when she was killed, and the man he called his brother. Esteban Falcone, known as ā€œFalcon,ā€ was the wild, Spanish bad boy whose pale blue eyes could burn with laughter and fun or turn icy with danger or disapproval. The partner whom both Summer and Gia had fought alongside for two years. Playful, sometimes dramatic, always protective and loyal. So protective, heā€™d had Summer dragged from the chapel seconds before security arrived to find Giaā€™s body sprawled on the floor and Falcon holding the weapon that had killed her. His half brother, John Raeg, had arrived with security. The half brother was nothing like his sibling. Older by only a few weeks, harder, colder, heā€™d handled everything and ensured the truth was buried so deep it never saw the light of day. The truth that for eight years Gia had betrayed all of them. Friends and family alike. Even more, sheā€™d betrayed the friend Summer had sworn to protect years ago. A vow that had been broken when sheā€™d failed to keep Gia and those she was helping from nearly destroying Alyssaā€™s life.

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Chapters
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Wake a Sleeping Tiger
1

Chapter 1 Breeds

19/06/2022

2

Chapter 2 Samara

19/06/2022

3

Chapter 3 Chelsea

19/06/2022

4

Chapter 4 Cullen

19/06/2022

5

Chapter 5 Council misfits

19/06/2022

6

Chapter 6 Risks

19/06/2022

7

Chapter 7 Tension

19/06/2022

8

Chapter 8 First mistake

19/06/2022

9

Chapter 9 Graeme

19/06/2022

10

Chapter 10 Loss

19/06/2022

11

Chapter 11 Cullen

03/07/2022

12

Chapter 12 Wolf Breeds

03/07/2022

13

Chapter 13 Coyote

03/07/2022

14

Chapter 14 Fight at his side

03/07/2022

15

Chapter 15 Returning to the bedroom.

03/07/2022

16

Chapter 16 Genetics Council

03/07/2022

17

Chapter 17 Hunger for her.

03/07/2022

18

Chapter 18 Stuck with her

03/07/2022

19

Chapter 19 Swollen clit

03/07/2022

20

Chapter 20 Mating scent

03/07/2022

21

Chapter 21 Tight smile

03/07/2022

22

Chapter 22 Touching her

03/07/2022

23

Chapter 23 Hell of a time.

03/07/2022

24

Chapter 24 Sense of despair.

03/07/2022

25

Chapter 25 Needed touch

03/07/2022

26

Chapter 26 My coffee

03/07/2022

27

Chapter 27 Plotting something devious

03/07/2022

28

Chapter 28 His mate

03/07/2022

29

Chapter 29 Demanding stare

03/07/2022

30

Chapter 30 I do want I want

03/07/2022

31

Chapter 31 Trail of kisses

03/07/2022

32

Chapter 32 Flat green eyes

03/07/2022

33

Chapter 33 Cullen in the Agency

03/07/2022

34

Chapter 34 Undercover

03/07/2022

35

Chapter 35 Lingering questions

03/07/2022

36

Chapter 36 Tamed.

03/07/2022

37

Chapter 37 Defenseless mate

03/07/2022

38

Chapter 38 Flashing viciously

03/07/2022

39

Chapter 39 No emotion nor remorse

03/07/2022

40

Chapter 40 Not in the mood

03/07/2022