Sabin

By Bailey Bradford

Sabin just wants his powdered sugar donuts, until he meets a man that tastes better than any sweets Sabin's ever tried...

Sabin has watched his brother fall for a man, a human who was Nischal's mate. Sabin just wants his damned junk food, but no. A weird shifter named Cliff had to mention Sabin in a creepy text and now Sabin can't have a moment's peace.

Until he goes to town with Nisch and Preston, and meets his mate. Hey, no one can tell Sabin he can't be with his mate! Except his mate doesn't know anything about shifters, much less that he is one, and together Sabin and Emmett are thrown into a life or death race to discover a plot that threatens all of humanity... At least, the human part of it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pride Publishing
• Release date: Nov 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781781848418

Bailey Bradford

A native Texan, Bailey spends her days spinning stories around in her head, which has contributed to more than one incident of tripping over her own feet. Evenings are reserved for pounding away at the keyboard, as are early morning hours. Sleep? Doesn't happen much. Writing is too much fun, and there are too many characters bouncing about, tapping on Bailey's brain demanding to be let out. Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey's office and are never far from hand at any given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey's presence can result in what is known as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.

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A Totally Bound Publication

Sabin

ISBN # 9781781848418

©Copyright Bailey Bradford 2013

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright November 2013

Edited by Eleanor Boyall

Totally Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2013 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Melting and a Sexometer of 2.

This story contains 166 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 6 pages.

Leopard’s Spots

SABIN

Bailey Bradford

Book eleven in the Leopard’s Spots Series

All Sabin wants is his powdered sugar donuts, until he meets a man who tastes better than any sweets Sabin’s ever tried…

Sabin has watched his brother fall for a man, a human—his mate. Sabin just wants his damned junk food, but no, a weird shifter named Cliff had to mention Sabin in a creepy text and now Sabin can’t have a moment’s peace.

Until Sabin goes to town and meets his mate. Hey, no one tells Sabin he can’t be with his mate! Except his mate doesn’t know anything about shifters, much less that he is one, and together Sabin and Emmett are thrown into a life-or-death race to discover a plot that threatens all of humanity…

Dedication

Love strengthens us all. To those who love and never stop.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Cheetos: Frito-Lay North America, Inc

Cocoa Pebbles: Post Foods LLC

Doc Marten’s: Airwear Intl Ltd

Google: Google, Inc

Chapter One

Normally, pity parties weren’t Sabin’s thing. Even when he’d been held captive for almost two years, unable to shift back from his snow leopard form, starved, neglected, abused. He’d been down during that time, certainly, but he hadn’t lain around wondering, ‘Why me?’ But tonight, he was definitely running the risk of that moronic type of brooding.

Now he was free, able to shift as he pleased—which wasn’t often, thank you very much, because shifting was quite a bit more painful than it used to be. All Sabin could figure was that so many months being drugged and unable to shift had done something to him. It shouldn’t have. He’d run as a leopard for most of his childhood years and never changed forms, but that had been his choice.

Which meant his current shifting pains might be psychological, and that was more trouble than he wanted to think about. Especially when he was feeling like he had a target between his eyeballs, and all because of some weird stranger’s text. For almost a week now, it had haunted him.

One left. Will need help with this one, I think. Tell Sabin to be careful. It won’t kill him. Remus, we’ll meet, one day.

The message hadn’t even been sent to him directly. It’d been sent to Justice, who was the mate of Paul. Paul in turn was Preston’s twin brother, and Preston was mated to Sabin’s brother, Nischal. The man who’d sent it, Cliff, was just out-and-out weird. Powerful, too, and he’d been so nice to Sabin when they’d met at the rest area a while back.

It’s a big loop of crazy, Sabin muttered to himself as he took in the hundreds of stars lighting up the night sky. Their brightness made what dark there was around them seem endlessly black.

Sabin put his hands to the window glass. It was cool against his palms. The moon shone high—a ‘goddess’ hangnail’, his mother had called it when so little was on display.

The silvery-white beams of light caressed the tops of the tree branches in the forest and cast pale streams on parts of the ground. Outside, there were shifters patrolling the grounds, protecting him and everyone else inside the cabins.

There was still one psycho shifter on the loose. One twisted wolf who’d delighted in making humans his slaves and hurting them. And for some unfathomable reason, Sabin was supposed to have a place in catching that guy? Or was the ‘need help’ part about someone else?

If that was the case, why was he supposed to be careful? What, exactly, wasn’t going to kill him? Being careful? Or whatever he needed to be careful of?

The questions were endless, and had been ever since Sabin had been told about the text. Six days of him wondering, worrying, stressing— Damn, but he was tired of letting it get to him.

What was he in danger of here, on his family’s property? As it turned out, ‘Grandma’ Marybeth was his mother’s cousin. She liked the Grandma part, but Sabin was having some trouble getting used to it. Every time he called her Marybeth or Miss Marybeth, he got thumped on the nose. The tip even had a slight pink tint to it from an earlier thump.

Sabin left the window for the comfort of his hidden pack of powdered sugar donuts. He was lucky Nischal hadn’t sniffed them out. Ever since Sabin had gotten a little wound up at a rest area after eating his first junk food, Nischal had been a fun-killer by restricting Sabin’s access to most of his favorite unhealthy snacks.

That just sucked.

At least he had a couple of hidden stashes, thanks to Oscar. The snow leopard shifter was his cousin, somewhere down the line, and he’d become an ally when it came to circumventing Nischal’s bossiness. Of course, Oscar could be bossy too…

The instant the sugary treat hit his tongue, Sabin began to feel better. If not better, then at least distracted. He thought that if everyone in the world would take a break to eat powdered donuts, maybe there wouldn’t be so much fighting and killing.

Then again, if they all got hyped up on the sugar, it could be disastrous once they’d eaten the sweets.

Sabin wolfed his down then stretched, arching his back and popping the vertebrae down his spine. He wanted to shift and run, but the freedom he yearned for wasn’t fully his yet. He couldn’t lose himself in the mountains like he wanted to. There were family and friends to consider now.

Wandering back over to the window, Sabin thought about how nice it would be to run under the sliver of moon. The earth would feel cool and moist beneath his paws, the pungent scent of it stirring with each step he took. There would be a breeze, too. He could tell by looking at the trees. Their branches swayed gently but steadily.

Sabin was so entranced watching the leaves flap and fall that he was completely unaware of anything else. It was almost like magic, the way the leaves floated slowly to the ground. Or maybe it was more like someone had set Mother Nature into slow motion, Sabin mused.

Then he screeched and flailed backwards as a screaming face popped up on the other side of the window.

Fuck! Sabin pinwheeled his arms, but his feet somehow tangled one another up and down he went. At the moment his butt made contact with the hardwood floor, the identity of the screamer registered in his brain. Nischal, you asshole!

Sabin scrambled up and took off running for the front door. He should have noticed Nischal outside. Sabin had known his brother was out there. Everyone was doing patrols on the property because the consensus was Cliff was crazy and they were in danger from him and the one sadistic wolf shifter still on the loose.

Nischal was going to get a much-deserved ass-whipping for that prank. Sabin opened the door and darted outside.

The night air was chilly, though Sabin supposed it was cold to other people. For him, having grown up in the Himalayas, cold meant something much harsher than a Colorado fall breeze on his skin.

The wind lifted strands of his white hair and slapped them into his eyes. Sabin shoved the hair aside and ran for the side of the cabin. As he turned the corner, he slammed into another person and the impact knocked the breath out of him as he once again went down on his ass.

After a moment where his ears rang and his vision hazed, Sabin blinked his eyes into focus only to find Nischal sitting in front of him, cackling like a fool.

Asshole, Sabin muttered, putting a hand to his head to make sure that part was still attached to his neck. Jerk.

Yes, Nischal agreed around some more snickering. Gods, you should have seen your face!

Sabin lowered his hand and gave his brother the haughtiest look he could manage. "I don’t see why you would think it was funny, how much panic your ugly face caused."

Nischal quit laughing and glared at him. I’m not ugly.

Sabin turned his nose up. Right. Because a handsome man causes that kind of freakout.

You’re just mad because I startled you.

There was no way Sabin was going to admit that Nischal was right. Brothers just didn’t give in during arguments such as this one.

Nischal grumbled and stood up. Yes, well, at least my mate thinks I am handsome.

Because the Fates made him think so, Sabin informed him as he stood up. Otherwise… He trailed off, knowing that would irritate Nischal more than hearing another insult.

Asshole, Nischal sniped and Sabin grinned. That was a win, getting his brother to revert to cursing at him, especially when Nischal used the same bad words on him that Sabin had used. It meant Nischal couldn’t even think past his anger enough to use different bad words.

Turdball. Sabin turned and headed back for the porch.

What kind of name calling is that? Nischal hollered.

Sabin flipped him off. He liked the word turdball. Maybe it wasn’t the best insult ever, but he’d come up with it all on his own.

Keep it up and I’ll forget to wake you before Preston and I head to the city tomorrow. Then you can spend the day with Oscar keeping you company. Nischal smirked and Sabin had to fist his hands to keep from slapping that smug look off his face.

That’s low. You know how bad I want to get away from here for a while, even if it is only for a few hours. Sabin was getting a little stir-crazy from staring at the cabin walls.

Nischal at least had the decency to look contrite. I do know, and that was a low blow on my part. You’ve gone on and on about seeing Colorado Springs.

Anywhere, Sabin corrected. I just need to go somewhere for a little while. Colorado Springs is just the only option I have.

It was almost like he needed to escape, which was ridiculous. He wasn’t being held prisoner.

You will get to go. Nischal patted his shoulder. Go on back inside. Would you mind making some sandwiches for Preston and me? We’re almost done with our patrols.

Sabin gave the gorgeous sky one last look. He didn’t argue or tease his brother anymore. Couldn’t, because he was suddenly hit with a melancholy he didn’t care for. Yes, I can do that.

Tomorrow would be a better day, Sabin assured himself. He’d shake the funky mood he was in and have a good time even if all he was doing was tagging along while Nischal and Preston ran errands. Colorado Springs might not be a huge city, but that was okay. Sabin wasn’t used to big metropolises anyway.

He missed his home in the Himalayas. The memory of it was a dull ache in his chest that sometimes jabbed sharper as he recalled his mother’s face.

She’s gone. It’s all gone now. Nischal’s home is here, with his mate, and I can’t go back to our homeland. I’ll learn to adjust to this new way of life.

Sabin went inside and began gathering the makings for sandwiches. Tomorrow was a brand new day. That was what he needed to focus on. Much to his surprise, he was able to dwell on the potential the next day held, and Sabin’s mood lifted as he began whistling.

By the time the late supper was on the table, Sabin was excited about the trip to Colorado Springs. He just knew something good was waiting for him there.

Chapter Two

Agent Emmett Miller watched through the scope on his rifle as the three men left the compound. His dick gave a twitch when he spied the white-haired man. Whoever he was, Emmett wanted to fuck him into the ground. He suppressed the urge to act on the impulse. He was smarter than his damn dick, and he was a professional.

Granted, he wasn’t handling things the way his predecessor, Agent De la Garza, would have. That was why he’d been handed the case when she’d been transferred. Human trafficking was one of the fastest-growing crimes in the U.S., and it needed to be stopped.

De la Garza and her partner, Jackson, hadn’t managed to bring any of the wanted criminals in on the case that was now his. But someone had certainly had been doing something about those guys, because the FBI had been left anonymous tips on where to find the bodies of the men they’d been seeking.

Now there was only one left, and Miller was determined to find the fucker and bring him to justice before the mystery vigilante killed the bastard. And he was going to catch the vigilante, too. Murder was murder, even if the traffickers did deserve to die. That wasn’t anyone’s place to decide except for the U.S. courts.

He was betting that the men he was monitoring would lead him to either the wanted trafficker, a Glen Taylor, or to the vigilante…name unknown. Description unknown, other than that he must be a badass motherfucker.

Agent Miller put away his rifle and started the car. He had a job to do and he’d been told more than once that he had a chip on his shoulder. Stepping into a much-liked agent’s position, as he had done when De la Garza had left, meant that he was low man on the ladder. The fact that he hadn’t been assigned a partner didn’t help. Rumors were swirling that no one wanted to pair up with him.

That wasn’t the case, but far be it from him to go explaining that he was an exception in the FBI. His clear-case numbers exceeded anyone else’s, and he worked best alone. None of that information had filtered down to his coworkers, however. Even if it had, it wouldn’t have mattered. Regardless, he would still have to prove himself to his new coworkers, and come hell or high water, he’d do just that.

It wasn’t that he wanted their friendship, because he didn’t. Emmett Miller was a loner, plain and simple. What he wanted, needed, was their respect, and he’d damn well have it.

Emmett didn’t question the why of that. He’d always been a leader, not a follower. Even so, he’d followed in his father’s footsteps and joined the FBI. If he chafed under all the rules and bureaucratic bullshit, it was a small price to pay for the way his old man lit up with pride every time he saw Emmett now. After those rough years of feeling like such a disappointment to the man, Emmett finally felt like he was doing something his dad approved of.

Maybe thirty-one was too old to be seeking Daddy’s approval, but Emmett didn’t care. He had his own standards to live by, and earning the respect of his dad had always been a top goal of his. His mother Madeline loved him unconditionally, a blessing which he likely didn’t deserve.

Emmett quit letting his mind wander as the blue truck he was following began to speed up. He was far enough back that he doubted they knew he was following them, but to be safe, he kept his speed slow. He didn’t take the ramp to the highway, instead passing it up for the next one.

They wouldn’t escape his tail. Emmett had no doubt of that. He’d always been able to track and tail better than anyone else he knew. In fact, he was faster and more agile than most, and always had been.

Shortly after he settled a few cars behind the blue truck, Emmett’s thoughts went back to the white-haired guy. He didn’t know who the guy was. In fact, the only person he knew the name of in that vehicle was Preston Hardy.

The FBI was really slogging on this case. Why anyone thought De la Garza and Jackson had been good agents was beyond Emmett. They hadn’t even been able to find out where Preston and his twin brother Paul were hiding. Emmett had, and this morning he’d arrived to stake out the place, only to find his prey leaving.

Not prey, he corrected himself. Sometimes his mind played tricks on him, tossing out words like that. Emmett knew himself to be a so-called alpha male. He was fine with that. Metrosexual wasn’t anything he would ever aspire to be.

But that white-haired man? Emmett thought he was trim and sexy as hell. Pretty in a way that Emmett had always found attractive. As big and rough as Emmett was, he liked his lovers to be soft and sweet-looking. Call it a stereotype of a bear and twink hooking up, I don’t care. Guys like him turn me on something fierce.

It was going to be an uncomfortable ride, Emmett decided several minutes later