Styx's Storm (15 page)

"I can and will swear it." Styx leaned against the table himself now as pure animal determination began to fill him. "And I tell you now, you will not take my mate, nor will you place her under Breed Law. Attempt to do so and I will disappear with her so fast it will make your autocratic, god-syndrome head fucking spin like a windmill out of control."

Once again, Jonas was nose to nose with someone, and this time, Styx determined, the director had bitten off more than he could chew.

"Styx, stand down," Wolfe suggested. Surprisingly, it wasn't an alpha order, one of those orders he was bound by vows and by blood to obey.

"She's my mate." His gaze never left Jonas's. "I am not required to obey any order that places my mate in harm's way. With all due respect, Alpha Gunnar, I will rip his throat out if he dares to attempt to take what is mine."

There were few things a Breed could call his or her own, other than a mate. A mate was considered God's gift, His acceptance of and determination to see to the survival of the Breeds. Without His acceptance, mating wouldn't occur, and there would not have been the natural conception and birth of the Breed children that now existed.

"You can try." Feline, furious, the growl in Jonas's voice had the hairs at the back of Styx's neck lifting in primal warning.

Styx tensed, preparing himself for a fight as Navarro moved in behind him and Wolfe stood slowly to his feet. No one would back him in going against his alpha over his mate. Understanding and approving were two different things.

"Styx, your mate will not be taken from Haven at any time," Wolfe stated as Styx narrowed his eyes in surprise.

"She has to test as his mate first." Jonas's lips lifted in a snarl. "And how much do you want to bet she won't test positive for the Breed mating hormone?"

Rachel and Hope moved away slowly. Not that Rachel did so easily, but Hope's whispered promise that Wolfe would handle it had her following the other woman, though she kept a wary eye on her husband.

"Then let me put it this way, Director," Wolfe stated. "Ms. Montague will not be leaving Haven until Styx makes a formal declaration, rescinding his protection of her. Don't turn this into a battle, Jonas, because I promise you, you won't win against me."

Alphas and their mates were sacred. Every Breed from Jonas down was beneath their rule, it didn't matter the species. If they were in Haven, then their very presence was their agreement to abide by the rules of the community and by the dictates Wolfe set out, until a formal complaint could be lodged and a tribunal of Breeds brought together. And Jonas knew it.

Jonas eased back before straightening. "Do I have your promise, Alpha Gunnar, that this Breed will not leave Haven with Ms. Montague? I would hate to lose my child because of his stubbornness, or your lack of foresight."

There weren't many Breeds or men that could get away with making such a statement to the powerful leader of the Wolf Breed community. The fact that Jonas did so, and would get away with it, was a testament to the sheer power he wielded as the director of the Washington, DC-based Bureau of Breed Affairs.

"I swear I have no intentions of removing her from the safety of Haven unless I feel her safety is endangered by being here." And that was the only promise he was willing to give at this point.

The fact that Jonas wasn't the least bit happy with it was apparent.

Leaning forward, his hands against the table, the director issued a warning snarl. "Don't make the mistake of pushing me too far in this, Styx. Make no mistake, my patience is wearing thin. If my daughter ends up paying for Ms. Montague's stubbornness and hatred, then have no fucking doubt I will demand her punishment. To the fullest extent of Breed Law."

And God help him, but there wasn't a Breed in Haven that would blame Jonas for it, even Styx.

They all tensed further at the sound of the bedroom door opening then.

"Wow, do I get to see a real catfight?" Storme questioned mockingly as she stepped into the kitchen and cast a look of disgust at Styx as well as Jonas. "And you Breeds wonder why I don't feel safe around any of you. All you want to do is fight. If not humans, then one another. Is there a pecking order for who gets to die first, or do you draw straws?"

For the briefest second, despite the sarcasm in her voice, Styx swore he could just detect the pain and remorse in her voice, but he also scented the slightest hint of it in the air.

Hope stepped forward at this point. "Ms. Montague, you are in the presence of an alpha of the Breed community. I demand that you show him the respect you would show any senator or congressman of this country." The cool and berating tone of her voice held no familiarity with the young woman she was speaking to now. Storme had offended her, and had broken an unwritten law of etiquette as far as the lupina was concerned. She had disrespected the alpha who had just willingly stood up for her.

That impacted Hope, as well as the concern and lack of understanding about the young woman withholding vital information needed to save a child. To most Breeds, actually, all Breeds but those still under the control of the Genetics Council, there were few things more important than a child.

"You want me to spit on him?" Storme widened her eyes and stared back at Hope in mocking disbelief. "If you insist, Mrs. Gunnar, but honestly, considering the fact that I haven't had my throat ripped out yet, and I haven't been skinned alive, I thought I'd at least give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Unacceptable," Hope snapped. "Why don't you let us all know when you've grown up, Storme? Maybe then we'll begin to speak to you as we would an adult, rather than a child."

To which Storme grunted, "Get off your high horse, Hope. We both know I'm not going to kowtow to a single Breed in this place, and the first chance I have to escape, then I'm gone. Let's not pretend I like any of you, and certainly let's not pretend that any Breed deserves anything from me. If your precious Wolf wants my respect, then he can earn it, just like anyone else does." Her gaze flicked to Wolfe as he stared at her with cool intent.

When her lips opened to say more, Hope broke in with icy fury, her gaze glittering with the frustration and anger that brewed inside them all. "Say another disrespectful word in the presence of my mate and Haven's alpha, and I'll have you gagged if you're ever in his presence again," Hope stated, as her mate moved in closer. "Alpha Gunnar doesn't have to earn a damned thing from you, Storme. He earned it the day men like your father decided to create him to kill. The day he escaped rather than taking an innocent human life. Think of that one before you decide to insult him further."

This wasn't a world where insults to the leader of the community could be taken lightly, and there was nothing Styx could do to ease the chastisement his mate received at the moment.

It wasn't a democracy such as the one the nation had voted in so many centuries ago. But it wasn't corrupt, and it wasn't deserving of her disdain. If she was allowed to continue to offend Wolfe, no matter his friendship or the fairness he displayed, Wolfe would have no choice but to, at the very least, ostracize her, which would in turn bring the censure of the community against them both.

"Styx, Hope." Wolfe laid his hand against his mate's back and rubbed his chin against the top of her hair before standing tall beside her once again. "Ms. Montague is not a part of the community, and therefore I can understand her ignorance as to the etiquette we have in place here," Wolfe stated as he stared back at Storme, his gaze penetrating, commanding. "Nothing more will be said of this, and I'm certain it won't happen again." Wolfe continued to hold Storme's gaze.

Styx could feel the rigid set of her body and once again could smell her fear bleeding from her.

The smart-assed cracks, the deliberate disrespect were the only weapons she had to wield at the moment, and though he understood her reasons, he couldn't allow it to continue. Aside from the fact that Wolfe and Hope were his leaders, they were deserving of more than Storme's sharp tongue and deliberate insults.

"Perhaps it's time we leave, Wolfe." Hope leaned against her mate, her expression calm and no longer filled with compassion or warmth as she stared back at Storme. "Once Jonas and Styx have resolved this situation, then we can decide the measure of aid Haven will lend Ms. Montague should she decide to leave our community."

The implication that, at this moment, Hope really didn't give a damn what Storme did was clear.

"I think we'll join you, Alpha Gunnar, Lupina," Rachel stated carefully as she moved to Jonas's side. "I could use some rest."

The look she gave Storme was one filled with pain. No one knew for certain the information Storme carried, but Rachel was desperate to find a way to help her daughter before any problems arose.

Jonas said nothing. He stared back at Storme with silver-eyed contempt before turning and leaving the cabin behind Wolfe and Hope. Navarro followed, but not before he glared back at Storme in disgust. "Your father once told me you had the heart of the Lion, the courage of the Wolf, and the logic of the Coyote. Tell me, Storme, how did you manage to fool him into believing you could actually be trusted to know whom to give that information to?"

She flinched as the Wolf stepped out and closed the door softly behind him. For a moment, the room was filled with such agonizing indecision that it had a scent all its own.

"Well, if I had known it was that easy to get rid of them, I would have insulted them sooner." She jerked out of his grip before turning and facing him, the false bravado in her voice and in her expression painful to witness. "Are we doing breakfast or arguing the rest of the morning?" A slender black brow arched mockingly. "Personally, I think I prefer food."

Personally, he preferred doing her and showing her once and for all who dominated here and who would follow the orders. The Wolf inside him was pacing, snarling, demanding he do something to show her, to prove to her, that the contempt that poured out of her for him and his people would not be tolerated. Despite the pain and the indecision he knew she was fighting at the moment, no matter her fear or her battle to accept her present situation, he couldn't allow the disrespect to continue.

It wouldn't be tolerated and it wouldn't be allowed.

"I can make your stay here easy." He gave her a relaxed, confident smile. "Or I can show you how we treat those who want to consider themselves prisoners. Take your pick, Sugar, before I make the choice for you."

CHAPTER 7

Hope Bainesmith Gunnar.

Storme remembered the young woman who had befriended her more than ten years before. Storme had been ten, Hope was now thirty years old. She didn't look thirty. She looked no different now than she had looked when she had been at the Omega compound and watched the Wolf Breeds as though searching for a familiar face, or a way to escape.

Or perhaps even both.

Storme remembered the day the news reports hit of the Wolf Breeds being granted the land in Colorado in recompense for America's part in funding the Genetics Council. She hadn't heard of the Wolf Breed alpha before then, but when a picture had flashed of Wolfe Gunnar and his new bride, the daughter of a Council scientist, Storme had felt her stomach clench in despair and fear for the young woman she had once looked up to.

Over the years, she had feared for Hope, worried for her, terrified she was locked in a marriage she couldn't have possibly wanted.

Yet the Hope she had seen when she arrived at Haven three days before wasn't a woman stuck in a relationship she didn't want. The woman she watched in the huge courtyard that was the center of the block of homes wasn't a woman unhappy with her life or with her husband.

Hope Bainesmith Gunnar was a woman well content with the life and the creature she seemed to love.

Standing at the back door now as dusk moved slowly over the mountain, arms crossed, a frown on her face, she watched as Hope played with an infant from the home next door.

The child belonged to Aiden and Charity Chance. Aiden was head of security at Haven if she remembered correctly. The two-story cabin to the right of the Gunnars' was the Chance home. There was nothing ostentatious or elite about the home, despite the hierarchical place the Chances held within the pack at Haven.

Like the Gunnar home, and the home belonging to Jacob and Faith Arlington to the left of it, it was two stories, a log cabin-style home that blended well with the trees that grew both in front of it and within the courtyard behind it.

Lights hung from the trees to create soft, effective lighting in the central yard. Each of the twenty or so homes was built far enough apart for privacy inside, but opened into the central design to allow for full socialization.

Wolves were far more social than the Felines, she had heard; in that case, it seemed that propaganda in favor of the Breeds was true.

Now, as the lights brightened the area between Styx's home and those across from it, she watched as those who lived within this centralized grouping came together.

Wolfe and Hope had come out first, followed by the Chances and the Arlingtons.

Charity Chance had walked beside her tall, dark husband, Aiden, as he carried their infant snuggly against his broad chest. They had joined Hope and Wolfe in one of the gathering spots outfitted with comfortable outdoor furnishings, a fire pit and grill and an attractive overhead covering that blended with the branches of the trees above in case of rain.

Jacob and Faith Arlington had followed. They carried food. Jacob with his dark coloring and the light auburn highlights to his hair had once been a part of several teams of Breeds sent out to locate hidden Council labs. He had been instrumental in locating and rescuing the rare, mysterious winged Breeds. His wife, Faith, liaison to the various packs and prides that were still spread out over the world, most in hiding, was tall and sleek, her long dark hair falling beneath her shoulders.

She stood next to her husband at the grill, laughing, seeming to bask in what appeared to be the pure adoration that filled her husband's face.

The three Breeds stared at their wives as though there was nothing on the Earth that could compare to them.

How could that be true? It was a far different picture than those of blood and atrocities practiced within the Breed communities, pictures that the pure blood societies circulated.

As food went on the grill, others began to arrive, until the area soon held more than two dozen Breeds and a few humans. There were a few American soldiers and technical support people who worked within Haven. But it was the Breeds she watched.

Many of them sat on the outer perimeter of the impromptu party, watching, chatting, slowly warming to the laughter and camaraderie that seemed to exist. She didn't know how long she stood there watching, but as she watched, others slowly moved closer and became a part of the laughter-filled group.

She had been there three days, and each evening she had stood here watching as the residents of Haven flowed in and out, moving within the acceptance their alpha gave so freely.

"You could be a part of it."

Storme swung around at the soft growl of Styx's voice behind her.

Dropping her arms, she tucked her hands into the pockets of her borrowed jeans and glared back at him.

"Just bring back some food if you don't mind." The smells alone were enough to tempt her to slip into the crowd of sharp-toothed creatures that still held the power to terrify her.

His eyes narrowed.

Each time he made the offer that she could accompany him, and each time she refused.

"You could make an effort to get to know us," he pointed out, his voice sharp.

Storme shrugged. "I just want the food, Styx, I don't want to become the meal."

A muscle at his jaw flexed sharply as she lifted her chin, defying him to retaliate. Storme had learned early on that she wasn't the cowering type, just as she had learned that often her smart-ass perseverance provided the distraction needed for a Coyote or Council soldier to drop his guard. She'd escaped many times using such a strategy.

And though she realized it wasn't going to work here, still, it was such an ingrained habit that it was almost natural. What wasn't natural though was the small pinprick of guilt this time.

"Do you think I'll allow you to get away with this much longer?" His head tilted to the side, the long strands of wicked red hair falling around the dark, savagely hewn features like a heavy curtain of flames.

Damn, he was too attractive, but then, all Breeds, male and female, were designed to create the image of sexual allure. There were no plain Breeds.

"I try really hard not to think period while I'm here," she informed him tightly. "If I actually allow myself to think, then I may lose my sanity in the bargain. This isn't exactly my idea of a vacation getaway, Wolf."

Irritation at the name flared in his eyes and pricked at her conscience. She couldn't understand why she felt that flare of guilt though. So what if she managed to strike a tender spot. The Breed who had killed her brother hadn't cared how tender James's neck had been when he sliced it open with his teeth. Nor would these Breeds, supposedly more honorable, lose a moment's sleep over ripping her throat out if they thought she had betrayed them.

"Storme, you're creating a situation for yourself that you may not want to step into so easily," he warned her, his tone darkening. "I'd suggest watching that mouth if I were you."

A sharp, mocking laugh leapt to her lips. "Yeah, I'll get right on that, Wolf. While I'm doing that, why don't you fetch us some food?"

Perhaps she should have heeded his advice. Or left off the word fetch. Either one would have likely worked, she thought, as his hands suddenly gripped her shoulders and jerked her around to him, and his head lowered. He shut her up more effectively than if he had possessed a mute button on a remote control designed just for her.

He kissed her.

He stole her strength, her courage and her ability to protest by the simple act of possessing her lips.

Or maybe this was what she was attempting to find again, rather than face his ire.

His lips covering hers, the feel of his kiss, powerful and dominant as it stroked across her senses and brought to life the dreams she'd had in the past nights of those stolen hours they'd shared. Hours spent in the grip of a heated lust so impossible to deny that she had actually allowed a Wolf Breed to take her.

There was something more there than lust though. As his arms surrounded her, pulling her close to the harder, broader length of his body, she felt that something more wrapping around her.

A warmth, a heated emotion she didn't want to examine or know the cause of. Because looking too deeply into it could undermine everything she had ever believed in, everything she had fought for.

She wanted to live for this moment, for this kiss and the feel of his hands pushing beneath the loose T-shirt she wore, to caress her naked skin. The feel of his palms, roughened and calloused, stroking against her flesh even as he pulled her closer.

He kissed her with heated demand, ate at her lips with a male hunger that struck straight to the heart of the feminine heat building inside her.

The sensual side of her had never been pulled free the way Styx drew it from her. He opened a door inside her that she had never known existed. A part of her that she wished would lie dormant once again rather than awakening for a man she knew she could never truly have.

Except for this moment.

Burying her hands in his hair, she gripped the coarse strands, holding on to them as one hand curled beneath her bottom to lift her to him and the other cupped the side of her swollen, unbound breast. Using the hand at her rear for leverage, Storme lifted her knees to grip his hips and allowed the heavy, hard ridge of his cock to ride against the sensitive mound of her pussy through the thin summer denim she wore.

It was exquisite. Pleasure seared the swollen bud of her clit beneath the borrowed jeans and dampened the sensitive folds of her pussy as a feeling of lush sensuality overcame her.

"I can smell your heat," he groaned against her lips. "Like a soft spring rain, damp and sweet as it washes over me."

Her head fell back as his teeth raked along her neck. There should have been fear, and she couldn't quite figure out why there wasn't. Why didn't the horrifying image of her brother's death haunt her when he nipped at her neck and raked his teeth along the sensitive flesh?

She couldn't figure it out; all she knew was that rather than visions of pain, what she saw was an explosion of light and color behind her closed eyelids, as pleasure flooded her body.

As her knees gripped his hips, she was aware of him walking, moving, until he reached the living room and she felt the smooth, butter-soft leather of the couch beneath her back.

Her knees still gripped his hips, her hands still burrowed in his hair, as his lips moved back to hers. A little nip of his teeth and she opened to him, her tongue meeting his, licking, taking, exhilarating in the rush of sensations that came from it.

That subtle taste of cinnamon and chocolate met her taste buds and had her moaning at the sheer decadence of it. His tongue was heated and warm, licking against hers, spreading the taste of his kiss, teasing her until she surrounded it and fought to hold it in her mouth, sucking at it with greedy draws of her lips as he pumped it between her lips.

God, it was so good. She couldn't stand it, she wondered if she would ever be able to live without the regret of losing the pleasure, the taste and the feel of him once this was over and she left Haven.

Stretching beneath him, Storme felt the moan that vibrated in her own chest, a human counterpoint to the half-animal growl of pleasure that came from his.

Pressing her heel into the leather of the couch, she arched to him, breasts and hips pressing into him as her head fell back, giving him leave to caress the fragile line of her throat.

The material of her T-shirt eased up her torso. Releasing his hair, Storme stretched her arms over her head, allowing him to peel the shirt from her before he tossed it away and jerked his own over his head.

Opening her lashes, Storme stared up at the warrior poised above her. With the long red hair, the ocean blue eyes and the tough, hard contours of his chest and muscled biceps, he could have been a warrior of centuries past. A seductive, dominant warrior determined to possess.

Rising, moving back with one knee in the couch, the other on the floor, he trailed his fingers down her stomach to the snap of her jeans.

Within seconds they were both naked and Storme was reaching for him with all the desperate need for the warmth that was so much a part of him.

"Not yet," he growled, pushing her hands back as he spread her thighs and gazed down at the bare folds of her pussy. "I've dreamed of tasting you, Storme. Of licking that silken bare pussy like the precious treat I know it's going to be."

Her womb clenched in response, a punch of sensation vibrating through it as lust speared straight to the heart of her sex. Beneath his darkening gaze she felt the folds heat, become plumper as her clit swelled with responsive need.

"Touch yourself for me, lass," he whispered, his gaze flicking to hers before lowering once again between her thighs. "Let me see the pleasure you can give yourself first. Tease me, lass, until I'm ready to burn alive for ye."

She nearly lost her breath; definitely she was losing her senses. As Styx moved to kneel on the floor beside her, her fingers slipped down her stomach to the wet heat of her sex.

Never had she felt so sensual, so sexual. There was something about that wicked challenge in his gaze that called out to the temptress she'd always wondered if she could be.

Her breath caught as she circled her clit slowly and Styx's chest rumbled with a low vibration of pleasure. With one hand he gripped the hard, flushed shaft of his cock as he pressed her thighs farther apart with the other.

The bare folds beneath her fingers parted as the slick juices of her arousal clung to her fingers. The feel of her own fingers stroking the sensitive, intimate flesh rarely brought her to release. But as he watched, his gaze darker, his expression tight, she felt the pleasure beginning to burn along her flesh and settle in the sensitive tissue of her pussy.

Her touch moved to her clit as he parted the intimate folds with his fingers, parting her, sending swift flares of desperate heat exploding through her pussy and traveling through her body as he watched her caress herself.