Stygian's Honor (38 page)

She wasn’t who she thought she was, but there was no way to prove it to herself. There wasn’t a single memory, a single dream or instance that she could use to pinpoint that she was Honor Roberts or Fawn Corrigan. There were no memories of either that she could pull free.

As she watched the Breeds sparring, she suddenly stiffened as Flint’s fist went for her mate’s face.

Stygian jumped back from the jab to his face but not before it connected.

His lip was split, the reddened hint of blood marring the perfect male curve.

Ah hell, Flint had split Stygian’s lip?

Wouldn’t that make kissing her later painful?

She could kiss the little boo-boo.

Licking her lips at the thought, her breasts swelled further at the surge of hunger racing through her body while her clit pulsed in renewed need.

Renewed? No, not renewed, it hadn’t stopped pulsing since she’d first watched them sparring.

She wanted to spar with him. She wanted to have him take her down, strip her pants from her body, lift her to her knees and fuck her into a screaming orgasm.

Was that seriously too much to ask?

It wasn’t like she wouldn’t be willing to give as well.

Her tongue ran over her lips again, almost involuntarily this time. She could remember the taste of him, the strength and power of the broad head of his shaft.

So broad.

She’d heard Wolf and Coyote Breeds were thicker than normal, their cocks broad enough to stretch a woman until she was certain it was impossible to take him.

Their experience, she had heard, ensured their lovers took them, perhaps not with ease, but definitely with pleasure.

Exquisite, heated, torturous pleasure.

Moisture rushed from her vagina, slickening, preparing—

Clenching her thighs, she forced back a moan and fought to return her attention to the file she was working on. And the occasional flicker of the screen that was more irritating than an actual problem.

Or, it would have been if her mind was actually on the file she was supposed to be working on.

Returning her gaze to the gym and the combatants still
going at one another, the urge to be on the mat with her mate was only growing stronger.

She wanted to be the one sparring with him.

She was his mate for a reason.

She wasn’t the hothouse flower he so obviously believed she was.

This hothouse flower was one week from final testing before her induction into one of the most professional, most secretive rescue forces in the world.

She could spar with him.

She highly doubted she could take him, but she knew he would take her.

Sensually.

Erotically.

Creaming her panties was an understatement for the slick moisture now gathered on her pussy.

Hunger didn’t come close to describing the need rushing through her body.

Her nipples were so hard the lace of her bra was such an abrasion it was painful.

Liza wanted nothing more than to pull her clothes—No, she wanted Stygian to tear the clothes from her body. To want her with such strength, with such uncontrolled lust that nothing mattered but fucking her. But pushing the broad length of his cock inside her, driving her mad with each thrust until the wicked additional erection filled her, locking him inside her as his release spurted to the very depths of her vagina.

She wanted him until she felt on fire for his touch. Until the soft cotton of the dove gray lounge pants and matching camisole top were so irritating, so impossible to bear she wanted nothing more than to strip.

She needed to be naked.

She needed her mate naked.

Now!

CHAPTER 18

As sparring sessions went, it was one of the rougher ones.

Stygian knew he would have bruises in places he hadn’t had bruises in years. Coyotes were mean gutter fighters, and that was just a fact of life.

That meant bruises in places a man normally didn’t have to worry about bruises when sparring with them. He seriously couldn’t remember a time when sparring with a Lion or Wolf that he’d ever had his arm dislocated by a kick
beneath his arm.

How the hell Dog had managed that one, he wasn’t certain yet. All he knew was the dirty bastard had caught him unaware at the same time Flint had been coming at him with a mean right hook.

Moving quickly to the side to avoid a hard jab at his nose—no one could accuse Flint of playing nice—Stygian came back with a powerful blow to the other Breed’s stomach, quickly followed by a mean left hook that Stygian only barely softened before connecting with Flint’s jaw.

Even pulling the punch, Flint was sent flying back against the padded wall. His dark hair dripping with sweat as he shook his head, Flint came back at him.

Blocking a hard kick aimed for his abdomen, Stygian
was in the process of sweeping the other man’s leg out from under him when the scent caught him.

Like a sledgehammer, the scent of feminine lust tore through his senses.

He froze, his head lifting, drawing in the sweetest, most addictive scent he could have imagined.

In the same breath Flint delivered a powerful blow to his midsection with a kick that nearly knocked him from his feet.

A rush of air exhaled from his lungs as Stygian found himself crashing into the padded wall.

Done in by the scent of his mate’s lust.

God help him, he had to get the others out of here. There wasn’t a chance he was going to make it to their suite before he buried his dick inside the lush, honeysuckle sweet depths of her pussy.

Catching Flint coming in for another hard kick, Stygian gripped his ankle, twisted then jumped back as the other Breed did a midair flip that would have ended with his foot in Stygian’s jaw if he’d been a breath faster.

Landing in a crouch, Flint grinned back at him.

“You’re getting old, Stygian,” he claimed. “You damn near knocked me out last week when you countered that same kick. But then”—his brows lifted suggestively—“the scent of your mate’s hunger wasn’t there to tempt you either. Was it?”

“You were faster this time,” Stygian argued as he ignored the comment regarding his distraction.

“And you’re a hell of a lot slower.” Flint laughed as Dog and Mutt both paused in their sparring. “You’re off your game, my friend.”

Hell if that wasn’t the truth, but even Flint was easing back, the unspoken agreement that the sparring session was over, understood by them all.

The scent of a mate’s need sent a message to any other Breed in the area to keep away, to move beyond the scent if possible and at every opportunity to allow the mated couple a chance to be alone.

Inhaling sharply, he caught her scent again.

Arousal and an addition of something more had his gaze narrowing on her.

The arousal was uppermost, a subtle scent because of the distance, but there all the same. But it was also combined with the scent of envy and a natural aggression that had his animal instincts howling and his lips turning up in a grin of relish.

“Time to shower,” Flint announced, though Stygian’s attention never wavered from Liza. “We’ll secure the room on our way out.”

His attention was focused completely on Liza as she rose from the sofa and moved closer to the main mats. He was only distantly aware of the soft
ping
s indicating full security had been activated on the entrance to the gym.

There would be Breed enforcers stationed at the elevator and then farther along the hall as long as he and Liza were in the room.

Stygian anticipated they would be there for a while.

“Spar with
me
now.” Her demand should have surprised him.

It didn’t.

He already suspected the part she intended to play in the Navajo Breed Underground Network. He should have suspected it long before he had.

She was a mass of contradictions, deceptions and confusion. One could never take anything about her at face value, until he learned the answers to the questions she presented.

Moving once again, Liza toed off the sandals she’d slipped on before leaving the room. Leaving her feet bare, the pretty painted toenails a subtle candy pink, she stepped onto the mat.

Her arousal was no longer mixed with envy. It was now infused with a hint of feminine, sexual aggression and independence.

The intriguing scent had his dick swelling impossibly harder, throbbing with a demand he had no intention of holding back.

A growl sounded in his throat as his lips curled into a slow, dominant snarl.

“A challenge, mate?” he asked as he knelt and removed the baby-soft leather boots worn by enforcers.

Loosening the ties, his gaze holding hers, Stygian removed them without haste, refusing to allow himself to fumble so much as a string while she watched.

Male pride.

He all but grinned at the thought.

Of course, he couldn’t allow himself to appear less than completely dominant and assured in her presence. God forbid this independent, striking young woman should ever have a moment to doubt his ability to love her.

To protect her.

He’d prove to her he was her fitting mate.

Removing his close-fitting black socks, Stygian straightened and stared down at her silently for long moments.

“You’re my mate,” he finally stated, hearing the primal growl that filled his voice. “I am well able to protect not just your safety, Liza, but your secrets. You’ve only to give them to me for safekeeping.”

Reaching back and gathering her hair, she wound the long strands into a loose braid before securing it with the elastic band around her wrist.

“What if I don’t know the secrets I’m keeping?” She surprised him with the answer.

“Then I’d say you’re hiding from them,” he answered, ignoring the flash of disagreement in her gaze, the hint of anger that darkened the soft gray color.

She didn’t argue; instead, she moved.

The small, delicate-looking fist suddenly delivered a blow, not to the muscle-packed abdomen, but instead to the vulnerable area below, between his navel and the band of his jeans, only a breath from the engorged head of his cock.

The blow stole his breath an instant before he moved for her. Swinging away, he nearly had her before she suddenly dropped, rolled and came up behind him.

Before he could assimilate the surprise, her little foot landed in the back of his knee, stealing his balance and nearly taking him to the mat before he caught himself in a crouch.

The crouch and roll she executed before coming up behind him wasn’t a typical response to the threat of being held from behind, even for their female enforcers. For her height and lack of physical strength, it worked perfectly. It also gave her the opening to come at him again before he could respond with a countermove.

Within two breaths, he was placed on the defensive by the very fact that, with nimble grace, she managed to elude his grasp and stay just out of reach.

And he wasn’t playing with her.

Stygian had every intention of getting his hands on her and stripping her, first of that little top she wore. The one that tightened around her breasts and clearly showed the hard, pointed nipples beneath what appeared to be the lace of her bra.

The moves she was using weren’t those she would have been trained for by the Coyote females. They were Breed male moves with the addition of a graceful feminine twist, an unexpected arch, kick or jab. And if she absolutely had to, a low, swift crouch and roll that placed her just out of reach.

He was impressed.

He was even more impressed, not to say highly suspicious of the fact that she used them so well. So well that he was beginning to suspect that it wasn’t Ashley and Emma who had been training her. A male Breed had somehow been training her so secretively that he hadn’t heard about it.

And he wouldn’t have thought that were possible.

Remaining alert, keeping his eyes on her, Stygian arched his brow mockingly as she circled him, looking for an opening to bury that pretty little fist in some vulnerable area, no doubt.

When he saw his opening, he moved.

Ducking nearly to a crouch as she moved for him, Stygian managed to twist and come up behind her, both arms wrapping around her, trapping hers and shackling them to her side.