Home > Wake A Sleeping Tiger (Breeds #31)

Wake A Sleeping Tiger (Breeds #31)
Author: Lora Leigh


   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.




      From the journal of Dr. Ambrose, Geneticist, Genetic Theorist


   The ultimate good or the ultimate evil?

   In this, I say, we have become the ultimate evil.

   Two hundred years before, a vision came into being, one that began with the purest of intentions, yet turned to the darkest of perversions.

   The creation of an altered being, one that began with the mutation of the most base genetic code even before conception. Those first scientists had a vision for their creations. A mix of human and animal, stronger, faster, more enduring and impervious to the illnesses or wounds that kill and maim. If such a species of man could be created, they argued, then they could be studied, their talents used to strengthen the human race.


   There is such arrogance in science.

   What began with such innocent intentions became darker, more perverted, with the first surviving human/animal creation that took breath and grew strong. Stronger than any of them imagined. The animal strength and power merged with the human spirit and gave birth to such determined will, such preternatural beauty and grace that those scientists could not bear to admit they could not control what they believed they had created.

   The spirit, the heart and soul of life, cannot be created. Man cannot breathe life into a being, and he cannot sustain that life against the worst of odds.

   And they hated the beings they envisioned for the very fact that they knew and understood that what they altered, a superior being, was refining, strengthening.

   Man. Born to such innocence, so easily corrupted by such black evil. Soon, they tortured the beings they birthed. They created such horrendous experiments—in the name of science, they were eager to argue—but it was in the name of their own greed and corrupt natures.

   For over a century and a half they gave birth to one after another of those they called Breeds. Hundreds, perhaps thousands. They were soldiers sent to assassinate, to spy, to gain riches and power for the organization that funded the research program. Then they were experimented upon, to see how much pain they could endure, how deeply they could be wounded and still survive.

   The babes, to ensure only the strong survived, weren’t cuddled or given affection. They weren’t nurtured or raised. From the moment they drew their first breath, each moment of their lives was an exercise in training.

   In horror.

   Such horrors.

   So many babes left to die, to wither to a final breath when but a gentle touch would have brought about untold strength.

   They were Breeds. Less than human, less than animal as far as those scientists were concerned, and they spilled the blood of the Breeds, took life after life, as though such atrocities would never be found out.

   But they were found out.

   Found out, proof given, the creations then turned on those who believed themselves to be their creators, and each day they’re free is the greatest insult to the organization that funded them, gave birth to them, tortured, maimed and committed such evil against them.

   Each day they’re free is a miracle, a gift I pray they appreciate each moment of. Because the Breeds hold many secrets of their creation and many more will arise. Man may believe he created them, but a much higher power breathed life into them, and that power is refining them and redefining them, daily.

   And that redefinition could end up being the very weapon that destroys each and every Breed walking free.




   From Graeme’s Journal

The Recessed Primal Breed

Recessive, Primal Breed genetics, after age five, begins with an animal’s awareness of its own strength and the danger surrounding it. It can also be the child’s primal response to protecting itself and the creature lurking inside.

   Continued recession after age eighteen to twenty can be blamed solely on the Breed and the dictates of his human genetics. The animal refuses to go against its nature, and the human refuses to acknowledge what the animal knows. At its base, the stubbornness of the two natures is in conflict, both refusing to relent.

   In the end, the awakening of those recessed abilities comes when the animal grows tired of the human’s obstinate nature and surges forward to take control in ways that prove false the belief that the human controls the predator within.


   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.

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