Stygian's Honor (13 page)

He quickly dismounted before placing his hand at the small of her back and urging her up the slight incline. The six-table shelter had been built to catch the soft breeze that rippled out over the lake.

The water was fed by a vast, previously unknown lake far beneath the ground. It had been tapped into when the oil company had received permission to drill in the area.

The oil had camouflaged the lake below, but once the drill had burrowed past the oil it was seeking and broke through the thin layer of bedrock separating them, all hell had broken loose and Window Lake had been born.

Stepping up to the tabletop, Liza sat down slowly, elbows braced on her knees, facing the water. Stygian sat likewise on the table in front of her, facing her, watching her intently.

“Now, why was it so imperative that I take this ride with you?” Tilting her head, she watched him curiously. “You’ve been determined to get me alone since the meeting with Jonas.”

“I can’t simply want to spend time with a beautiful woman?” he asked, his expression thoughtful now. “You’re intelligent, beautiful, interesting. What other reason could I have?”

“Information?” She was certain it was far more than simple male interest. Breeds never did anything for such a paltry reason.

“According to you, you have no information.”

No man should be able to pull off such mockery and confidence with such a simple statement.

Pursing her lips and staring back at him ruefully, she admitted she was biting off far more than she could chew with this man.

“So we’re just here to get to know each other better?” Crossing one leg over the other, she propped her elbow on her knee and rested her chin in the palm of her hand as she contemplated him.

“Is that so wrong?” Amusement filled the black and navy gaze.

“It depends on why you’re so interested.” And why she was so interested, when the thought of a lover had never been high on her list of priorities?

Men tended to believe their women had to be protected, controlled.

Liza had no intention of being controlled.

“You sound as though you’ve come to your own conclusions as to my interest.” Bracing his palms on the table behind him, he leaned back and watched her with wicked male amusement.

Shrugging, Liza arched her brows at his comment. “There are a lot of rumors where a Breed’s interest in a woman is concerned. Rumors of addictive kisses, a Breed’s ability to control their lovers through some hormonal reaction to those kisses. All those stories could make a girl nervous.”

She was nervous.

She’d watched Isabelle in the weeks since she’d become Malachi’s lover, and the signs that the rumors could be true were all there.

“You’re listening to rumors?” The chuckle that left his
lips matched the laughter in his gaze. “I would have thought you’d know better, considering your friend is a Breed’s lover. They’re considering marriage, you know.”

Liza couldn’t control her own mockery at that point. “They’ve been together less than two months and they’re already discussing marriage. Isabelle is so wrapped up in that Breed, nothing else matters any longer.”

Even the position Isabelle had attained on the team she’d trained with since she was a teenager was no longer important.

For some reason, Isabelle now considered herself a danger to the team, and none of them could figure out why.

Unless the rumor that lovers who were “mated” to a Breed carried a scent other Breeds could detect. Especially Coyote Breeds who worked for the Genetics Council. Add that to the fact that the reported attacks against Breeds and their lovers in the past few years by suspected Genetics Council Breeds were all against Breeds in committed relationships with their lovers. So committed there was no time, no room and no interest in anything else.

“What are you getting at, Liza?” Leaning forward, his booted feet planted squarely on the bench as he planted his broad forearms on his knees, he watched her thoughtfully. “I swear, I can feel that suspicious little mind of yours beating around something here.”

“The rumors of ‘mating heat’?” she questioned. “If that’s why you’re sniffing around me, then I’d just like to say right now I’d prefer not to be so chained to a man that I can’t get five minutes out of his sight.”

A smile curved his lips, but the amusement had dissipated just marginally from his gaze for the slightest second. If she hadn’t been watching his expression closely, she would have missed it.

“Come on, Liza,” he chastised her gently. “If it existed, don’t you think someone would have come forward already?”

She shrugged at the question. “The
National Rumor
says there’s a kill order against anyone who verifies information concerning Breed mating heat.”

Stygian had to laugh at that. Not because it wasn’t true.
Because she’d gotten straight to the point and didn’t hesitate to inform him she wasn’t interested.

He would have let it go if he didn’t know for a damned fact she was more than interested. She could lie with her lips, but her body hadn’t yet learned how to play along.

“That rag? Sweetheart, you should try reading the
National Press
. It’s more fact than fantasy.” He evaded the implied question carefully.

Not that she was willing to back down. He doubted she backed down from much at all.

“The
National Press
is owned by the Tyler family,” Liza snorted. “Their baby sister is married to Callan Lyons, leader of the Feline Prides. I wouldn’t exactly suspect the paper of being impartial, would you?”

She had him there. But for the moment, he stuck to his evasion rather than the truth and prayed she didn’t push him any closer to lying.

Lying to his mate just somehow seemed wrong.

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed with a nod. “That doesn’t mean John Tyler reports fiction. He’s a damned stickler for truth in the articles he publishes as well.”

“And he just recently married a Feline Breed.” She smiled smugly.

Well, hell, that information was so carefully buried that even the Alphas of the other Breed communities were unaware of it.

“I think we should discuss this later,” he suggested—later, after he showed her, rather than telling her, the full truth involving mating heat.

“Why later, Stygian? When? After you’ve kissed me and tied me so irrevocably to you that I have no other choice but to keep your secrets?”

Pretty much.

The mocking thought had a rush of guilt pricking at his senses.

“Come on, Liza.” Sighing, he scratched at his jaw and watched her thoughtfully. “Do you need an excuse for wanting me so desperately that you’ll believe any trash story you find to explain it?”

“Why not?” Her brow arched suggestively. “It beats believing I’m suddenly so tired of living that I’ve chosen suicide by Breed.”

“Suicide by Breed?” Incredulity filled his expression then. “How do you figure that one? Baby, we might kill ourselves fucking, but I’d never physically harm you.”

Her face flushed, but the sudden darkening of her gray eyes and the scent of her pussy heating further assured him it wasn’t from anger or embarrassment.

“
Emotional
suicide by Breed.” She shrugged, though the subtle scent of her wariness wrapped around him like an invisible cloud.

“Emotional suicide?” he questioned her. “Do you think you’re in danger of losing your heart to me, Liza?”

“Only if you’re in danger of being honest with me.” She snorted. “I detest liars.”

“Honesty goes both ways, baby,” he retorted. “If you want it, then you have to give it as well.”

How could one woman look and smell so fucking innocent no matter the provocation?

“Your boss has no doubt had me so thoroughly investigated that the lot of you know the last time I masturbated.”

She didn’t even flush as she made the statement.

Innocence, sensuality and pure bravado.

Damn, she should have been born a Breed.

“The masturbating part we’re actually uncertain of,” he stated with a grin. “But next time you go there I wouldn’t mind an invitation to join you.”

The grin that edged her lips had his dick swelling impossibly harder and his balls drawing so tight they felt tortured.

Hell, no woman should have the ability to destroy a man’s senses so easily.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The look she threw him was less than reassuring.

He wasn’t going to hold his breath waiting on that invitation.

And wasn’t that too bad.

Damn, he was killing himself here, aching for her as he’d never ached for anything in his life.

He was here on a mission. A mission he’d been working for over a decade: Find Honor Roberts. This woman didn’t appear to be the one he was searching for, but he was damned if he could pull himself away from her.

Watching as she shifted her head, her eyes moving to the lake again as her expression turned thoughtful, he realized there was nothing about this woman he didn’t like.

Her strength. Her will. Her pride and determination.

She would make him crazy, but every instinct he possessed assured him this woman was one he’d gladly spend his days—and his nights—with.

“My family and I used to picnic here nearly every Sunday for years when I was a kid,” she said softly, nostalgia and wariness mixing with a near-undetectable scent of deception.

What could she possibly be hiding from him here? Now?

Or was she trying to distract him?

He didn’t doubt that in the least. Fortunately for her, he was already pretty distracted and really had only wanted to spend a few hours with her.

She was his mate, after all.

The need to get to know her, to understand the woman behind the secrets was nearly as fierce as his need to possess her. To cover her—to mark her. Hell, to wrap her in so much pleasure she couldn’t even consider living a single day without him or his touch.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever been on a picnic,” he said with a faint smile. “That wasn’t exactly part of our training.”

A faint frown touched her brow, though she didn’t glance back at him. “Every kid should know how great a picnic is. I remember when the first Breed came here to Window Rock after Callan Lyons made his incredible announcement that Breeds existed. He called himself Gabriel. He was there searching for his family. He told Dad what training versus raising truly meant.”

Stygian nodded. “More than half the Breeds created died in the first three months from lack of touch and care. The nurses didn’t hold or cuddle us. They fed us. They removed the pads beneath us when they were soiled and bathed us when they had to.”

Stygian didn’t remember that, though some Breeds claimed to remember their own infant years.

Being a Breed had been hell until the rescues. But life wasn’t bad now.

Actually, sometimes, it was pretty damned good.

“Did Gabriel find his family?” Stygian finally asked when Liza said nothing more.

She breathed out heavily. “A half sister. His mother was one of the lucky ones. She was released, rather than killed, after giving birth to her second child. She later had a daughter but died in childbirth. Gabriel disappeared with her just after finding her.”

Stygian watched her closely, knowing there was more to the story than the brief moment in Gabriel’s life that she had mentioned. Like many Breeds, Gabriel, whoever he may be, had gone searching for roots that were often destroyed long before a Breed ever escaped.

“So, you tell me something now,” she demanded, her look thoughtful.

“Ask.” He would answer if he could.

“Why were you named Stygian?”

He chuckled at the question. “Breeds developed a habit in the labs, long before release, of naming themselves. Many, like Gabriel, took biblical names. They believed if we took the names of those God had found favor in, from the Bible, then He would find favor in us as well and gift us with a chance to see Heaven, as our human cousins took for granted.”

“You didn’t take a biblical name,” she pointed out.

“True.” Inclining his head in agreement, he allowed a smile to curve his lips. “I had a trainer who didn’t always follow the Council’s directives. From the time I was ten until my rescue at twenty, he convinced me that my chances at an afterlife were just as good as those of any human ever born.”

“Man or woman cannot take that first breath of life without first the gift of the soul that only God can bequeath.” She recited the declaration President Andrews had made when he had accepted and signed into law the mandates of Breed Law.

“Exactly,” he agreed.

“So why did you choose the name Stygian Black?” She looked at him, her dove gray eyes somber.

She had no idea the temptation she was at that moment.

There was no pity coming from her, merely regret and sadness for the hell the Breeds had known as children.

“Actually, my birth mother chose it,” he told her. “The trainer I was paired with had grown close to her before she died in the labs. She asked that he find a way to ensure I carried the name she chose for me.”

“So why Stygian?” she asked again. “Especially Stygian Black?”

“She wanted me to carry the name of her ancestor. One known for his merciless vengeance decades before her birth. When his wife and child were taken by his enemies, he began spilling the blood of their abductors’ families, beginning with cousins and working his way up until they were returned to him. They were dead, though. By the time he finished, every member of three family lines was wiped off the face of the earth. My trainer believed she wanted that same vengeance, and she wanted me to be the instrument of it.”

“And were you?”

Stygian shook his head at the question. “I don’t kill children or innocents no matter the provocation. And that’s what it would have entailed.”

There had been more than once that he swore his mother had reached out from beyond the grave in anger at his choice.

“What about you?” he asked, pausing until she gave him a questioning look. “Who created Liza Johnson? A woman willing to face a team of Coyote soldiers with no more than a knife in her sneaker, three skin tags on her body and a communications link to God only knows who tucked in her pretty little ear? What made you think you could face four men you believed were soldiers sent by the Genetics Council and survive without help?”