Graeme let him keep thinking that. For the moment.
“Gotcha, save him for Tribunal amusement. Check.” He tipped his fingers to his forehead in a careless salute.
“And you let me know if that Bengal with the APB out on him needs a friend,” Lobo reminded him as he turned to leave. “I make a hell of a friend, Graeme. A bad enemy to make, but a hell of a friend.”
With one last glance over his shoulder, Lobo left the room and closed the door behind him.
Whew.
Now that was what a Breed could consider a damned good close call.
Especially a Breed with an APB out on his ass and a Bureau director determined to reel him in like a fish on a hook.
Graeme had never considered himself reelable. Or hookable.
He grinned at the image before taking his seat and releasing the electronic lock to the door the medic used to access the cells.
“Be careful of that one, Doc,” he spoke into the mic as the medic made his way across the cement floor. “He likes to water his cot a bit.”
“You terrorizing the prisoners again, Graeme?” the Breed chuckled.
It wasn’t their first prisoner, or the first one Graeme had caused to piss himself.
“It’s getting too damned easy to do it, Doc,” he answered. “We need to find prisoners made of sterner stuff. Why don’t you put out a memo to all those weak-assed soldiers the Council keeps sending. We need someone tougher to play with.”
“Right. Memo. Send sterner stuff,” the medic laughed as Graeme opened the cell and watched the medic and two Wolf Breed guards enter the barred enclosure.
“Yeah,” Graeme murmured. “Send sterner stuff. At least give me a f**king challenge.”
He snorted at that.
That wasn’t possible. It wasn’t possible because the best they’d had to offer at any given time had already had their playdates with him. He was alive, they were dead. Every last one of them.
Screams echoed in his head, agony sliced through his veins. A scream of rage built in his throat as the memories surged through his head and tempted the beast he’d managed to chain.
His claws flexed and his body tensed to jump from the chair as the insane rage that had festered in him for so many years threatened to slip free once again.
At the last second, he managed one last rational thought.
His lifeline.
Gentle eyes. The scent of moonlight and shy laughter.
“Who are you?” she whispered, her head tilting to the side as the colors of the desert shaded her head and brushed across her shoulders in the silken strands. “If you’re here to kill me, why not just do it and get it over with.”
Oh, he was there to kill her.
The animal could taste her blood, salivated for it as the insanity the man lived within relished the moment.
“What makes you think I’m here to kill you? Can’t I enjoy the night as well? Besides, I was here first. You’re the one that found me, not the other way around.”
He felt her surprise. Hell, it was no less than his own. He imagined the animal snarled at him in complete shock, questioning the seemingly rational tone of voice he used.
“Did I find you?” She smiled. Right there, staring into the shadows where he hid, the faintest little smile as her arms relaxed just a bit where they were crossed over her br**sts.
“What do you call it?” he asked her as he leaned against the rough stone of the cliff at his side. “I was standing here minding my own business when you sneaked up on me. I call that finding me.”
What the hell was happening to him?