Goings - marked by the beast

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Champagne Books
www.champagnebooks.com

Copyright 2010 by Rebecca Goings

First published in 2010

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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Champagne Books

www.champagnebooks.com

Copyright 2010 by Rebecca Goings

ISBN 9781926681887

September 2010

Cover Art by Christopher Butts

Produced in Canada

Somewhere in the Florida Everglades

The spray of water and the wind in his face did nothing to cool Mackenzie Bishop's red-hot rage. The drone of the airboat buzzed throughout his entire body, and the boat left a wake of white foam behind him.

He'd left the others behind in Miami. They'd wasted too much time as it was. It had been nearly two months since Robyn had been gone, two months since Dr. Lucian Carver had taken her right from under his nose. Trevor, Jet, Rogan, Noah and Wade had vowed to help him find her, but Christ, they had taken forever pinpointing exactly where in Florida the third B*E*A*S*T* compound was located.

Once they'd found it nestled deep in the Everglades, the bickering began. How should they approach the facility? Should they barge in with guns drawn or should they take a quieter, more stealthy approach?

Mac didn't give a shit. All he knew was Robyn was at Carver's mercy and he wasn't going to stand for her being in his clutches any longer. He was going to find the woman on his own.

The rest of the pack be damned.

The day was hot, almost oppressively so, as the muggy Florida air rushed by. Sweat had soaked his shirt long ago. The sun burned his skin, but he couldn't afford to stop. The compound wasn't too far away now. Robyn's beautiful face spurred him on. He refused to think of what had happened to her in the months she'd been gone. The only thing that mattered was rescuing her.

His thoughts ran away from him, remembering her sultry blue eyes, capturing his soul within their depths. When he'd lost control and pounced on her back in Texas, her body had fit his perfectly. Her breasts had been flawless, as if made for his hands alone. He remembered how he'd palmed them in his lust. Her kisses had inflamed him, to the point of almost taking her right then and thereuntil Noah had interrupted them.

She'd called him a coward for stopping. Despite the anger boiling within him, his mouth curved into a grin. Perhaps he was a coward. He'd been afraid of himself, afraid of what he'd been about to do. Controlling the jaguar inside him was no easy feat. And he'd been a hairsbreadth away from losing that control.

But dear Lord, Robyn made him want to lose it, to bury himself within her and forget ever being a shifter. She, more than anyone, could understand what he was going through, as she was a shifter herself.

He'd found her in the wilds of Oregon, flopping on the ground as a snowy owl with a broken wing. He could tell by her scent that she'd been more than a mere owl. When she'd shifted, she'd led him to the second B*E*A*S*T* compound where they'd liberated it with the help of Jet and Trevor. And Mac had personally killed the scientist who'd hurt her.

Now, he was fixing to do it all over again. The moment he saw Lucian Carver's ugly face once more, it would be for the last time. The bastard was going to die with Mac's fangs sunk deep into the soft flesh of his throat.

Mac's mouth watered and his belly growled at the thought. Killing for the sake of killing repulsed him. But killing the assholes who'd made them all into monsters made the world a better place.

Mac slowed the airboat as the facility came into view. It was well hidden among the cypress trees, which rose from the water like white skeletal bones. A few long-necked cranes took wing as he rounded the trees and the splash of something in the water caught his attention. Probably a gator. He stared hard at the animals, wondering if they were shifters themselves. He took a deep breath, but the stench of the swamp was enough to cover the scent of the creatures. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. From here on out, any damn thing could happen.

It was quiet. Too quiet. From the B*E*A*S*T* compounds in Colorado and Oregon, he'd learned a few things. There were always guards. Yet no one was patroling outside that he could see, aside from the animals around him. And any one of them could be a shifter.

Reaching between his legs, Mac grabbed his rifle and a tranquilizer gun, as well as a large duffel stuffed with ammo and serum. Not only had they liberated that second compound, they'd raided it as well, leaving them well-stocked with serumthe shit that prevented anyone from shifting, no matter if they were in their human or animal state.

With a heave, Mac leapt from the boat onto the marshy land, thankful he'd been endowed with the grace of a jaguar. A few loud caws could be heard from somewhere nearby, and the buzz of insects was constant. He swiped them away from his face as he cautiously approached the building, looking for the security cameras high on the walls.

They were there, all right, but they weren't moving, and their red recording lights were dark. Odd. In fact, the front doors of the place were wide open.

Mac cocked his rifle and slung the tranq gun over his shoulder along with the duffel. He was gonna shoot first and ask questions later. The weight of the gun felt good in his hands and gave him the courage to move forward.

But as he eased closer, doubt overcame him. Was this the right place? Had they been mistaken about this facility? Something wasn't right. Something was out of place. It didn't take animal instincts to figure that one out.

A putrid scent wafted to him on the thick air, one he recognized instantly. The smell of rotting flesh. The smell of death.

Mac didn't think twice. He entered the compound and jogged down the empty hallway. He didn't care about the cameras. They didn't seem to care about him either. What the hell was going on?

As soon as he rounded a corner, it became painfully obvious. Dead bodies were everywhere. Scientists and shifters alike, bathed in a sea of red, coagulated blood. They

had been rotting for days if the smell was any indication.

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