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    Sitting at his desk, working by lamplight, Tyce sighed wearily and sat back in his chair to rub at the bundle of tense muscles centered at the base of his neck. He’d decided to forego that thing he’d wanted Briel to see tonight because she’d been so relaxed at dinner that he didn’t want to ruin it with his revelation. Now though, as hunger—for more than just food—plagued him, he was wishing he’d shown her.

    “I don’t know,” Conn began, drawing him from his thoughts as the Commander leaned over to brace his arms on Tyce’s desk while he eyed the blueprints laid out. “Ain’t no sense in reinventing the wheel when Monroe would gladly…”

    His words were cut off when the house alarms suddenly blared to life.

    Instead of rushing for a weapon and snapping into commander mode, Conn shot Tyce a sympathetic look.

    Fuck, that stung! He thought he’d finally been breaking through to her, but after all Briel had learned, and all she’d seen, she was making another run for it.

    “Boss?” At Conn’s query Tyce lifting a hand to silence him.

    “Wait here,” Tyce bit out. “I’ll see to this. Tell the men to stand down.”

    Shoving up from his desk, he stalked to the door with purpose. He’d had enough! After doing everything he could to convince Briel that it was safer for her and Fena to stay, she still didn’t believe him. His mind said to let her go, but his heart and his inner beasts raged at the thought. Honestly, he was tired of the game. He didn’t chase women, and this was proving more daunting than he’d ever expected, because where he’d normally walk away, he wasn’t afforded that opportunity now. It was frustrating. Visions of bending Briel over his knee and paddling her luscious ass had his cock stirring even as his ire rose. He was so deep in thought that he nearly plowed over little Fena when she stepped out of her room, rubbing sleep from her eyes to look up at him and ask, “Where’s sissy?”

    It felt like the floor dropped out from under him. There was no way in hell that Briel would attempt to run without Fena, which meant… “CONN!”

    Without hesitation, he scooped Fena into his arms and raced for Briel’s room. The door was closed, and he slammed a shoulder into it. In an instant, his eyes took in the space. The bed was disheveled. Blankets and sheets were strewn about the floor in a path that led toward the window where the thick curtains puffed and billowed in the cold wind. The window was wide open, and as Conn rushed into the room, Tyce handed Fena to him before racing to the window. He picked up the scent of Briel’s blood before he even ripped the curtain back.

    Outside, in the darkened night, he saw nothing. His eyes jerked to the sensors on the window, and he realized that they’d been deactivated, which meant the alarm hadn’t been tripped from here. Either someone was entering or exiting the house somewhere else, or whoever took Briel had done so earlier and had only just now triggered the alarm. If the latter were true, there was no way to predict how long ago Briel had been taken.

    Teeth gnashing so hard he couldn’t even speak, Tyce—without stopping to consider Fena watching—shifted and dropped out of the window. His massive raven form diving to gain speed before stretching his wings to catch the wind and shooting back up. His head pounded with the buzz of energy being shot through the mist as Conn shouted orders telepathically, including Tyce in the transmission. He didn’t know if Conn’s directives were suitable or not. He didn’t care. His pulse was roaring with the need to hunt, to find, to fight. His mind was centered on Briel. Someone had dared come into his domain and take his Angel. Someone had just unleashed all hell.


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Tyce: Skin Walkers book 15

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