Styx's Storm (22 page)

The hand that held tight to her hair moved her head as he fucked her lips, while he held the base of the shaft with the other. Storme could feel the heavy pulse and throb of blood beneath the heavily veined flesh. Each minute pulse of pre-cum that shot into her mouth was filled with the taste of cinnamon and male heat.

Unique. Heated, the taste of him seemed to fill her senses with the flush and power of a narcotic. It rushed to her head with each pulse of blood to her brain and struck a match to the intoxicating, explosive power of the arousal that flooded her.

She was drowning in him.

Her tongue licked and stroked over the engorged cock as each heavy throb of the unusual ejaculation spurted against her tongue. She tasted and relished. She suckled at the hard flesh, moaning as her fingers slid to the swollen, sensitive bud of her clit.

It burned, throbbed. The swollen bud was so tight and hard it was nearly painful as she stroked and rubbed against the side of the sensitive knot of nerve endings.

"Such a sweet fucking mouth," he groaned, his voice as harsh, as deep as the sound of thunder, muted and low in the distance now. "Suck it hard, baby. Let me feel that hot little tongue loving the hell out of my dick."

And she was loving it. She was intoxicated with it.

She took it as deep as possible, feeling the hard pulse of the wide crest at the back of her throat before retreating to lick at the head once again.

His fingers kneaded her scalp as his thighs bunched and tightened and his cock seemed to harden further, the crest throbbing as though swelling further between her already stretched lips.

"Damn. Enough baby."

Styx jerked back. He could feel the knot pulsing in the tight flesh of his cock, closer to the surface, threatening to expand and swell with each hard pulse of pre-cum he released into her mouth.

He could feel her heat rising, smell it in the storm-drenched air around them.

It wasn't mating heat, but it was damned close. Rich, filled with spice, heated and tempting, it went to his head. Staring down at her, he watched as she pulled back, staring up at him as she licked over the head of his dick, the illumination of the slowly emerging moon gleaming over her pale face and the long, sodden silk of her hair as it flowed down her back.

She looked like a wood nymph, a sexy, sensual little temptress dragging him into a lust-filled adventure that threatened to destroy his self-control.

"Ah, lass," he groaned, unable to hold back the words as she sucked the head of his cock back into her mouth. "That's my sweet Storme."

Never had he known such pleasure. Never had he scented such need and hunger from his lover, and it wasn't even mating heat.

This was pure need, rich and hot, tightening his balls and sending fingers of electric sensation racing up his spine.

As she cupped his balls with one hand, the tips of her fingers playing over the taut sac, he was aware of her stroking herself, the smell of her rich cream filling his senses until he wondered if he could survive the pressure.

One damned thing was for sure, another minute in her mouth and he was going to come for her.

It took all the self-control he possessed to pull her head back and draw her to her feet. Swaying in front of him, her lips reddened and swollen, green eyes darkened and glittering with hunger, she looked like a woman lost in the pleasure she was giving her lover.

"Lass, give to me," he groaned as he turned her again, pressing against her back to bend her over the high trunk of the tree.

Her breath caught, but it was in excitement rather than fear as he tucked the head of his cock against the swollen, saturated folds of her pussy.

"There, love," he crooned, aware of the rough, deepened sound of his voice. "Let me have you. If I don't bury my dick in your sweet wee pussy, then I may not survive the night."

He would have preferred their bed, but there was no way he would last the time it would take to return her to the cabin before fucking her.

The attempted escape, the chase, the storm that had raged around them and the one that raged inside him were too damned powerful to resist.

Gripping her hip with one hand, he braced his other hand next to hers on the fallen log.

"Storme, forgive me, lass." Because he couldn't go slow. Because he couldn't ease into her as he wanted. Because the need to fill her was riding him like a hard fever and he couldn't hold back any longer.

Storme felt the pressure of his cock against the entrance of her pussy, caught her breath, then let it out in a hard rush of air that should have been a scream.

Her entire body tensed at the first hard, determined thrust. It parted the clenched muscles of her pussy, lodged the head of his cock inside her with shocking swiftness and stole her breath as pleasure erupted within her.

"Styx!" Crying his name out, she arched into the thrust, trying to bury him deeper, harder, pleading for more of the intense, striking sensations that flooded her body at that first, abrupt entrance.

There was no need to beg. As desperate as she was for it, it was possible he was more so.

Storme barely had time to breathe in roughly before he was moving again, retreating, then thrusting in farther, deeper, the burning pleasure-pain of each thrust threatening to throw her over the edge of release with each fiery impalement, until he lodged deep inside her. The fierce, heavy pulses of the pre-cum throbbed from his cock, filling her, and each time she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it eased the fierce clench of her pussy around his cock while sensitizing the inner walls further.

A whimpering cry left her lips at the distant realization.

There were rumors, tabloid stories and whispered warnings to all female members of the pure blood societies about a phenomenon known as mating heat.

An uncontrollable lust that stole a woman's mind and made her a willing sensual slave to her Breed lover.

There were reports of the symptoms that she had never believed. The pre-cum that eased a woman's inner flesh and allowed her to easily take the overly thick width of the Wolf Breed cock. There were also rumors of the mating knot, the swelling in the cock.

She hadn't felt that, but she could feel the heavy thunder of his pulse thicker where her pussy was narrower, as though something just beneath the flesh throbbed to be free.

If this was what it was, then she well understood why the women were warned. Someone should have warned her of the pleasure, the heat and the sheer sensuality of it.

If she'd known this was it, then she couldn't say that she wouldn't have rushed into Styx's arms sooner.

"Styx," she whispered his name again as he thrust inside her fully once again before holding himself still inside her.

She could feel it more fully then. That hard throb in the middle of his cock, as though the flesh were fighting to expand, to lock him inside her.

"Ah, lass, I could die a happy man at this moment," he groaned. "Let me just linger a bit here. Let me feel that wee tight pussy wrapped around my dick. Storme, love, you could drive a man mad for hunger of you."

His voice was rougher, the hand at her hip tightening, flexing as his hips shifted, pressing his shaft deeper inside her as she felt her pussy clenching, tightening on him in increasing pleasure.

"Fuck me," she moaned. "Please, Styx. Oh God, please do something." She was trying to move, to shift her hips, to force him to move inside her when he gave a low, growling moan and began to move.

She felt the pleasure tearing through her at each hard thrust, each shocking penetration by the fiery heat of his cock. Electricity seemed to race over her body as her clit burned and swelled further and his fingers moved from her hip to between her thighs.

His fingers found her clit, and there she lost the ability to think. The calloused tips of his fingers stroked and tormented as his cock thrust inside her with rapid strokes of ecstasy.

She was going to explode. She could feel it. She would die in his arms tonight and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She didn't want to stop it. Here, there was peace, there was a sense of security that she had never known in her life.

There was Styx.

"Ah, lass, you're so close," he groaned at her ear as his teeth raked over her shoulder. "I can't wait to feel it. Feel your wee sweet pussy clenching on my dick. Give it to me, love. Give me your pleasure."

His fingers moved against her clit then, stroking against it as his hips moved harder, faster. He fucked her with hard, powerful strokes, each penetration raking over nerve endings so sensitive, so hot and brutally responsive that she knew she was lost.

His fingers moved over her clit, rubbing, stroking. His cock moved inside her, stretching her, sending a fiery riot of sensations straight to her womb as the building explosion detonated inside her.

She screamed his name, she knew she did. Her body tightened to the breaking point, sizzling fingers of sensation erupted across her nerve endings, and a tidal wave of ecstasy overtook her, shuddering through her body, shaking her, marking her even as Styx marked her shoulder with the sharp, once feared canines he buried in it as he gave himself up to his own release.

And in his arms, Storme knew that somehow, somewhere, she had lost a part of herself and her heart to the Breed that held her.

CHAPTER 12

For the first time since aiding the development of the Wolf Breed community, a week later Styx almost regretted one of the few responsibilities he had toward it. One such duty was the occasional pig roast for mated anniversaries.

Dash Sinclair and his mate, Elizabeth, were celebrating the ten-year mark of their mating on the next evening, and the surprise celebration had been planned for months. Cassie had planned most of the event, and Styx knew this gift to them was very important to her. She wanted to show her parents the value of what they had done for her. Getting her to understand it was no more than any parent would do wasn't easy.

Her life hadn't been an easy one. When she had come to Wolfe and Hope with the idea of the celebration, the alpha pair had wholeheartedly embraced it because Dash had been instrumental in many of the advancements and contacts the Wolf Breed society had gained since the former Army Ranger had declared his Breed status.

Prepping the pig was time-consuming, but a project Styx could do while he thought about things. The fire pit was already prepared, lined, and the coals were glowing red hot as he wrapped the prepared pork in heavy baking foil and set it in the cast iron carrier that would be used to lower it into the pit and to retrieve it when it was ready.

But the activity separated him from Storme, and in the past days, since her attempted escape, something had changed within her. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on or explain.

She seemed quieter, more thoughtful. She still hadn't yet joined the community dinners in the evenings, but now he could see the hunger to do so in her eyes.

There were times he would have given anything to see or to hear what she was thinking when she sat on the back deck of the cabin each evening and watched the hilarity that ensued when they all came together.

Once or twice, he swore he had even caught her on the verge of laughing as the evening progressed and the men attempted to get the hang of a game of touch football or soccer.

They were accomplished athletes, but male Breeds were highly competitive and could become snarling, sweat-soaked friendly adversaries as the games progressed.

Still though, she hadn't joined the fun, nor had she come from the deck to draw closer to it. And her expressions had the power to worry him now.

She seemed almost saddened, as though a part of her just couldn't fight something anymore, and he feared she was giving up on some part of herself.

The mating heat hadn't progressed; he was still tortured by a mating that wasn't. He'd marked her, he could smell his scent on her, but the full heat still remained just out of reach.

Nodding to Navarro to take the other side of the heavy burden, Styx lifted the guest pork and helped carry it to the pit prepared in the middle of the courtyard. Chains attached to the sides of the carrier were then attached to a large hook used to maneuver it and lower it into the hot coals. It was then covered and all they had to do now was wait for the succulent meat to cook.

"It's going to be a hell of a party," Navarro commented as he stepped back and carefully dusted off his hands.

Styx nearly grinned at the Breed's fastidiousness. Navarro was a Custom Class Breed, a Breed created and trained to infiltrate political, social or elite influential societies. Styx called him the "pretty boy" of Haven. He preferred not to get his hands dirty, his hair was always perfectly cut and styled, his clothing always tailored to perfectly fit his tall, corded frame.

"Cassie has it planned to the last minute," Styx murmured in amusement.

"Will your woman be attending?" Navarro asked, surprising Styx with the question.

The other Breed called her his "woman," not his mate. The knowledge of the fact that every Breed in Haven could sense that he hadn't marked her, had his back teeth gritting in anger.

"Perhaps," he answered shortly.

"I can sense the bond there, Styx," Navarro commented. "But you haven't yet mated her. What's holding your Wolf back?"

Styx stared back at the other Breed. "It's not the Wolf holding back, it's the woman."

Navarro grunted at that. "The woman doesn't produce the mating hormone, my friend," Navarro informed him. "She's only subject to it. Therefore, it seems to me it's your Wolf holding back."

"Or her acceptance," Styx growled. "I always wondered at the impression of force the mating hormone gave. That it took choice from the female's hands. I believe Storme is retaining control by refusing to accept ..."

"Or you are."

Styx gave a low, warning growl. "She's my mate. I accept that."

"But does your Wolf?" Navarro posed the question curiously. "This mating phenomenon intrigues me, Styx. This is the first time a Breed has been held back from his mate in such a way. Perhaps you are the one who refuses to accept a mate that feels such prejudice toward you. A mate that refuses to accept her lover is human as well as animal."

Styx forced himself to hold back the anger that demanded a physical repercussion for the slight toward his acceptance of his mate.

The Wolf inside him was going crazy at the fact that he couldn't mark her properly, that the mating hormone was just out of reach, irritating the glands but refusing to release.

It had to be an unconscious reaction to the fact that his mate didn't accept him, because he sure as hell had no problem accepting his mate. He couldn't and wouldn't accept that the problem lay with him.

"I would rescind the mating acceptance I understand you have given your alpha in regards to the woman," Navarro stated then. "Perhaps a part of you realizes she's going to betray you, or Haven. The consequences of that could be disastrous."

"Did I ask your opinion?" Styx all but snarled back.

"You didn't have to ask my opinion," Navarro assured him. "It was volunteered."

"Then stop fucking volunteering," Styx snapped.

Navarro grunted at the order. "You refuse to even see the truth then? To recognize the fact that this woman is being rejected by your genetics not because of her feelings, but because of your mistrust of her?"

"Exactly." Styx punctuated the statement with a hard growl. "Because unlike you, Navarro, I know my Wolf well. When you understand yours as well, then you can come chat with me."

He turned on his heel and stalked from the fire pit, through the sheltering trees that surrounded it and back to his own home and his own woman.

He'd be damned if he would allow the other Breed to question something so significant as his trust in Storme's innate honesty. She wasn't a cruel person, as much as she wanted to pretend. He could sense the goodness in her, just as he sensed her fear and her confusion.

He wasn't certain why the mating heat wasn't active; all he knew were his feelings, his belief, that nothing or no one could force love, even mating heat. And thus far, no mating had occurred where there hadn't been the potential for love. Until now.

Storme was intrigued. She wanted him, ached for him. But until she let go of the past, she would never be able to love anyone. Not Breed or human.

Pushing the door open, he caught her scent immediately. His already hardened cock became pure iron, throbbing in need as his balls tightened.

Taking a deep, hard breath, he controlled the impulse to follow the scent to the living room and take her immediately.

His cock was so hard it was painful. His tongue throbbed and itched, though a quick check against the sides of his teeth assured him that the glands hadn't swelled, the mating hormone wasn't filling them.

"I need your help in here." Resignation filled her tone as it echoed from the living room.

Frowning, he moved into the living room before coming to a surprised stop just inside the door.

Storme sat on the floor, her head beneath the living room table where the television controls, the glass top's internal computer display and the room temperature and lighting controls were accessed and wired into.

The sensitive electronic tabletop lifted for easier view, with a holographic keyboard that moved and angled to fit any position on the couch in front of it.

At least, it had. At the moment, Storme seemed to have several components to the wireless receivers as well as the main control board disassembled.

He felt his stomach fall in acute disappointment. Damn, he loved that system. It controlled not just his ability to access the Internet and Bureau files, but also his television, satellite links, security details and his state-of-the-art audio system on the far wall.

"May I ask what you're doing?" He stepped to her, keeping his hands carefully from around her neck.

He was in love with her. If he wasn't in love with her before, then in that moment, he fell head over heels as she reached for the slender electronic adjustment wand at her side and expertly applied it to the sensor in the control module that had been giving him hell for months.

"Well, I was trying to bypass the security protocols on the system so I could watch the damned television," she muttered. "While I was in there, I found about a dozen shorts in the system and several hardware vulnerabilities. I thought I'd just fix everything."

"Bored, Storme?" he drawled in amusement as he hunched down beside her.

"Just hold this." Feigned disgust filled her tone as she indicated the long, awkwardly mounted control board beneath the table. "Whoever installed this should be shot. It's a freakin' mess. Do you realize hardware vulnerabilities can screw your entire firewall system? What? You want someone to slip into your system and fuck with it?"

No, he didn't, but he had suspected Storme's talents based on the files the Bureau had on her. He'd deliberately left the problems in place and had the communications bunker closely monitoring it as he waited on her to get tired of roaming the house like a ghost and do something about it when one of the shorts caused the television to stop working.

"I appreciate your concern," he murmured as his gaze drifted to where the shirt she wore gapped at her stomach, several buttons having slipped free.

She was wearing one of his shirts now. Bare, tanned flesh tempted him to take a taste as he reached in and held the control board in place for her.

"My concern or my boredom?" she questioned crisply as she reached for another of the electronic tools, her fingers feeling around against the sheet until he pushed it in her path silently.

She picked up the slender needle-nosed wire adjuster and soldering tool, and he watched as she gripped two minute wires, set them in place and activated the tool to set the wires.

So much for Jonas and Navarro's opinion that she would betray them at first opportunity. She could have kept her mouth shut about the hardware problems, likely believing he was unaware of them, and tried to find a way to hurt Haven.

She hadn't. She had warned him of the problem instead. That knowledge sent a surge of pure emotion slamming through his gut, nearly causing him to lose his grip on the control board.

"Geez, Styx, don't get fumble fingers on me," she muttered as she pulled the pliers back and checked her work with a small electronic surge light.

Thumbing the switch to the light, she activated the testing system and began running the white light over each component and wire.

"Where did you learn how to work on these systems?" Styx asked as she frowned up at the internal system fiercely.

"Tinkering some," she answered absently. "I had some training at the Omega lab, with one of their computer experts, before the rescues."

"You have a knack for it," he stated.

"It's a talent." She reached for another slender tool and made an adjustment in the wireless modules that connected the system to the various electronics it controlled.

"I would have imagined you would lean toward medical or genetic engineering. I wouldn't have guessed a talent in computerized systems."

She paused, glared at the system then sighed heavily. "I thank God I didn't lean toward anything medical in any way. The thought of it sickens me."

"Because of the work your father and brother did?"

She pushed herself from beneath the table and glared up at him now. "Would you like to know, Styx, why I hate Breeds with a depth that frightens me at times?"

His teeth clenched. She was admitting it, and he hated that.

"Why, Storme?" he asked softly.

"Because they sent my father and my brother to hell before I was ready to let them go. My father and brother broke the laws of nature, and the laws of decency, in what they helped the Council to do. And then they broke my heart when they showed their loyalty to their work over their loyalty to me. I hated them for it, I hated the Breeds for it, and I hate that fucking Council so bad I'd kill every one of those bastards if I could. So the Breeds can count themselves lucky. At least I don't wish I could murder them to their faces. Now, excuse me, but I don't need your help any longer. You can leave now."

She pushed her back beneath the table and ignored him as though he wasn't there, while she went back to work on reassembling the electronics she had taken apart.

At least, she appeared to ignore him; what he sensed was far different. He could feel her pain, tears unshed and a sudden desperation that tore at his chest.

Storme was fighting more than the past or her emotions. She was fighting the desertion of her father and brother, and the suspicion that they had loved the Breeds far more than they had loved her.

Unfortunately, Styx agreed with her.