Styx's Storm (27 page)

"Storme?" Styx stepped into a defensive stance next to her, pulling her partially behind him as she and the Coyote locked gazes.

"There's nothing you can do," the Coyote said with a smirk. "There's nothing they can do." He nodded to the Breeds gathered around her. "Breed Law protects me as well. Had I known you were Styx's captive, I would have ensured my absence." As though it mattered. As though he felt some remorse. There was no remorse, and she knew it, she could see it in his eyes.

She was shaking. Storme could feel her body shaking, shuddering as agony began to tear through her.

"Storme." Styx's voice was hard, demanding.

"Storme, what's going on?" Hope moved in beside her, her husband, Wolfe, moving protectively to flank her as Styx flanked Storme.

"He killed her family." It was Cassie that spoke, her voice eerie, lacking any emotion, any fear, compassion, mercy or pain. "He's the Breed that tore her brother's and father's throats out."

It was said so matter-of-factly. As though those deaths were little or nothing in the total scheme of life. But they were everything to Storme.

"Marx Whitman," Cassie continued, her voice turning slightly hoarse, strained. "Dad. Do something."

"There's nothing he can fucking do," Marx snapped back at her, his teeth flashing dangerously. "I'm under Breed Law as well where my protection is concerned, you stupid little girl. I can't be punished for anything. I have committed no crimes since I joined Haven."

As though the crimes he committed before could be wiped away so easily.

Dash stepped forward, his larger body keeping his wife as well as Cassie pushed behind him. Storme was aware of them surrounding her, the males positioned to ensure that the Coyote came no closer.

"We may not be able to punish you, but you won't be allowed to torture Storme with your presence either," Wolfe snapped back.

Storme would have been surprised if it weren't for the fact that it took all she could do to control the rage tearing through her, demanding justice, vindication.

"He killed them," she whispered through numb lips. "And he enjoyed it."

"I haven't killed since accepting Breed Law, outside my capacity as an Enforcer." Triumph glittered in his brown eyes. "I do what I'm told. I'm a good little Coyote now, Ms. Montague."

She wanted to scream. Her fingers curled into claws as she fought back the need to jump for him, to rip the smirk off his face.

"Find his alpha," Dash demanded, his voice low.

"Have him held," Styx demanded furiously as Marx's gaze glittered with surprise and his lips twisted into a snarl of disgust.

"Your precious princess, Cassie, can tell you that arresting me would be a mistake."

Cassie flinched as his gaze raked over her.

"Cassie?" Her father questioned her.

"There are always loopholes," Cassie drawled, though her voice was strained and hinted at indecision. "Unless we can prove he's committed an act of aggression against Breed Law, then there's nothing we can do. And I can't prove it." Her eyes glowed within her paperwhite face. "Even though I know he has."

Marx laughed bitterly at that. "Look around you, Alpha Gunnar. Arrest me, hold me for crimes committed while in the labs, and you'll lose the trust of every Breed here. Just because your little witch"--he flicked his fingers to Storme--"wants to believe I've done something, doesn't mean I have."

He was right. Even Storme knew he was right. There was no way for Styx or Wolfe to punish the Coyote for the crimes he had committed that night, because he had technically been under the control of the trainers, Council scientists and soldiers he had been trained to obey.

"Get her out of here, Styx," Wolfe ordered from Styx's side as Storme continued to stare at the monster from her past. "We'll find Jonas and handle this."

"What is there to handle, Alpha Gunnar?" Marx gave a sneering laugh. "There's nothing to handle. I'm a resident of Haven, you can't change that without breaking the laws you made."

Silence descended. Even the music that had been playing before the Breed showed up had eased. All eyes were trained on them now. Hundreds of eyes, Breed and human alike.

"The Mating Articles," Cassie stated then.

"She's no fucking mate of his!" Marx exclaimed contemptuously then. "She stinks of her fear and hatred of us, just as her father did. He wanted nothing more than to destroy every Breed he ever created, and she knows it."

Storme stared, waiting, watching, her eyes narrowing on the hated, squared face of the Coyote that had destroyed her life.

He wasn't handsome, graceful, or charming as the other Breeds were. His features were out of sync, as though his genetics had somehow attempted to merge physically as well as psychologically.

"You can't do anything to me as the situation stands." Marx shrugged his shoulders as though what any of them might want to do didn't really matter. "Now, I came to enjoy the party and to discuss a few things with Alpha Gunnar. Standing here with this Breed hater in my face wasn't part of the plan."

"I never hated Breeds," Storme bit out, fighting to contain her rage as she glared back at him. "I hated you."

He laughed at that, as Styx growled, a low, violent sound that had Storme flinching. The tension was tightening around them now, low mumblings from the Breeds and humans filtering through the veil of disbelief and rage that surrounded Storme.

"Hate me all you want to." He rolled his eyes, obviously laughing at her now. "Hate me until hell freezes over, little girl. It won't matter. You can't touch me and neither can your lover."

"He killed them." She turned on Styx, certain there had to be a mistake. They couldn't allow this Breed to run around free, to laugh, to gloat that he had won, while her father and brother were dead.

"There's nothing we can do." Styx seemed to push the words from between his lips. "He's right. He signed Breed Law, and it protects him as well as you."

Marx grinned, his gaze flicking over Storme once more. "They can't even order me away from you. You're not his mate, which means there's no Breed loyalty to you, Ms. Montague. All you have is Styx." He shook his head as he made a tsking sound. "But look on the bright side, at least you won't be looking over your shoulder for me anymore." His spread his arms wide. "I'm right here."

Styx jumped for him.

Before his fist could make contact with the snide mockery in Marx's face, Dash, Wolfe, Navarro, and Jonas were there to pull him back, their voices raised, their hold unbreakable as Marx sneered at him.

More Breeds moved in then. A small contingent of Coyotes backed Marx as the majority of the Breeds moved in behind the Wolf Breed alpha and snarled back at the Coyotes watching them warily.

"Where is your alpha?" Wolfe snarled as Styx fought their hold.

Storme stared back at Marx, hatred filling her to the point that she could barely hold on to the need to kill.

"It doesn't matter where my alpha is," Marx snapped back. "You can't order me from Haven and neither can he."

"The hell I can't." Wolfe stepped forward, his voice lowering, deepening. "You have just deliberately instigated a confrontation with a higher ranking enforcement officer than yourself. I can and I will penalize you the full length of time possible until this situation is resolved. If I see you in Haven before the allotted fourteen days is up, then you will be locked up."

Marx laughed. Brown eyes glittered with such triumph, with such brutal mercilessness that Storme felt that tightening in her chest increase, the feeling of impending doom nearly choking her as she fought to get hold of her control.

"Dad, get Mom out of here," Cassie suddenly whispered.

Dash turned to her, shock lining his face.

"Dash, get her and Elizabeth to the heli-jet." Jonas was moving, calling Enforcers to him, attaching a comm set to his ear and ordering the heli-jet prepared.

"What have you done?" Wolfe advanced on Marx as Storme watched the Breeds behind Marx quickly dissipating, eager to place distance between themselves and whatever they sensed preparing to explode between the alpha and the Breed.

"Me?" False innocence filled the Coyote's face then. "What could I have done?"

"Contain him," Wolfe ordered several of the Breeds behind him.

Storme fought to breathe. That choked, panicked feeling always came just before . . .

The explosion shook the courtyard.

Storme felt herself flying, the blast of heated air that swept her off her feet tossing her onto the thick lawn as chaos started to fill the compound.

Roars, snarls, and furious screams began to erupt, and just when Storme thought she could jump to her feet, another explosion ripped through the night and sent her to her knees.

Lifting her head, Storme stared at the flames and the night erupting around them.

Carefully placed explosions had been laid in the courtyard, hidden and detonated at the moment when everyone would have been dancing had it not been for the confrontation with Marx.

"Let's go!" Styx's yell was accompanied by his arm wrapping around her waist as he dragged her from the ground.

"Cassie," she cried out, staring around desperately. "Where's Cassie?"

"Dash and Jonas's Enforcers have her," he yelled back as another explosion shook the ground and ripped through the alpha's home. "Move. Let's go."

He all but dragged her from the force of Breeds running through the flame-shrouded night, arming themselves, rushing Wolfe and Hope, Dash and his wife and daughter, and the wives of the other Breeds that had attended.

The Feline Breeds' alpha was holding a baby, her teenage son at her side, snarling in rage as Enforcers moved to get them out of the line of fire.

"Get them out of the fucking courtyard," Styx screamed at the group. "This way."

Turning, Styx led the way through the dense foliage at the center of the courtyard as gun and laser fire began to erupt behind them.

"Haven's under attack. We're under attack!" Storme heard Enforcers behind them yelling while overhead the sound of a distinctive hum could be heard.

"Get them the fuck out of here. Move. Move!"

They were rushing between two cabins, shadows enfolding them as Styx raced to get out of the clearing.

As they cleared the cabins, it was as though hell opened up around them. Heavy machine gun fire powered by overhead helicopters began ripping along the ground.

A baby wailed. The sound of a frightened, pained scream could be heard. And before Storme could make sense of any of it, another explosion rocked the night, throwing debris, flames and destruction around them.

"Bitch!" Storme found herself being jerked from the ground by her hair, agony screaming through her head as she fought, clawed at the fingers tangled in the thick strands to drag her to her feet. "You should be fucking dead."

Fighting to lock her knees in place, she tried to remain on her feet, only to stumble as she was jerked again, an agonizing cry leaving her lips as the searing pain tore through her head once more.

Where was Styx?

She tried to gaze around, but the group that had been together when the final explosion rocked the night was nowhere to be seen now.

He wouldn't leave her alone, she told herself. He wouldn't have taken the others and left her to protect herself. She knew he wouldn't.

Tears filled her eyes as that horrible premonition struck her chest again. Her breathing hitched; she gasped for air and then lost the ability to breathe at the sight of his hard, broad form sprawled out on the ground several feet from her.

"Styx!" She screamed his name as the harsh fingers jerked her around, shook her, then a hard, heavy fist slammed into her face, turning the world black.

CHAPTER 17

"Well, it looks like the little bitch is finally awake."

Storme stared back at the faces watching her, and wondered why she should even bother with shock or surprise at this point.

Or betrayal.

Still, it was betrayal she felt as she stared back at the other woman, the one person in the world that she had once believed to be a friend.

Fear was a terrible, destructive sense. It was a panic attack in the darkest hours of the night. It was smothering, feeling the breath leave the body, unable to catch it back quickly at the sight of the monsters facing her.

The monsters that were human as well as Breed.

These were the eyes watching her through the darkness of her nightmares. Eyes that might not have glowed red in the low light, but they might as well have. She could still feel the danger, the merciless intent. She could still feel and remember the death that came with them, as well as the recrimination and the consequences that would come when Styx caught up with her. If he caught up with her.

If he was even out there. How could he be though? Marx and Gena had taken her from Haven so easily. She remembered bits and pieces. Being thrown over Marx's shoulder and toted through the night like a sack of potatoes while it seemed that Haven was burning down behind her.

They'd thrown her in the trunk of a car, where she'd blacked out again, and when she awoke, she was in the home she had known before her mother's death, years before her father had taken her to the Andes.

A home she had believed no one else could have known about. Evidently, they had known though. She shifted painfully in the thickly cushioned chair they had dumped her in, lifted her hand to her head and, as she brought her fingers down, stared at the blood that seeped at her temple.

That was why she felt so dizzy and sick to her stomach.

"Get her some water, Coyote," Gena ordered the Breed, using the degrading version of his species name to address him.

Marx didn't seem to mind. He moved to the kitchen and returned moments later with a bottle of cold water.

He pushed it into her hands then moved back to the leather couch where Gena sat, his brown eyes stone hard, emotionless. They weren't cold. Cold denoted hidden emotions. There was just simply no emotion there.

Lightning flashed in the forested night behind her, the jagged bolts of light illuminating Gena and Marx's faces. There was no mercy in their expressions, nothing but determination and chilling death.

Damn. Storme guessed she should have wondered before now why Gena had managed to keep from being killed all these years by the Coyotes that chased her. Everyone else that had tried to befriend Storme had suffered for it, if not given their lives for it. Yet Gena had always managed to remain unscathed.

Because she was a part of them. A part of the Council, the scientists and the monsters chasing after the information Storme's father had managed to steal.

Damn, maybe she should have just given Styx the ring to begin with rather than waiting.

Storme sipped at the water, desperate to delay the inevitable even as she found herself praying silently that Styx had survived.

The memory of him lying in the dirt, unconscious, all that fierce challenge that was so much a part of him silenced, sent terror racing through her.

If they could defeat Styx, then what chance did she have against them?

"You ruined a hell of a plan," Gena drawled as a smirk, similar to Marx's, twisted her thin lips. "Hell, we had no idea you were there. When you disappeared, I simply assumed someone had finally managed to kill you."

So cold and matter-of-fact, as though Storme's life, or her death, meant nothing.

"And what plan was that?" Her throat hurt from the smoke and debris she had breathed in during the explosions.

"The plan to kidnap the Wolf Breed princess, Cassandra Sinclair, and the Feline heir, David Lyons. If we could have snagged a nice little alpha mate, or killed one of the alpha leaders, that would have been an added bonus." Gena smiled as she spoke, crossing one leg over the opposite knee and smoothing a hand down a leather-clad leg as she continued. "Instead, the Sinclairs escaped in a waiting heli-jet and some black-clad bastards melted out of the night and snagged the alpha mates and their little brats right out of our gasp."

Storme almost closed her eyes in thankfulness. They were okay. Hope was still with Wolfe, Merinus Lyons was still with her handsome Lion Breed husband, Callan.

"How did you manage it?" She shook her head in confusion. "There had to have been more involved."

"Of course there was," Gena snorted. "Sanctuary isn't the only Breed stronghold with spies. The spies we have in Haven are just better at what they do. That simple."

Gena had a problem with ego. Storme was surprised she had forgotten about that.

Spiked dark blond hair looked more disheveled than normal, and soot marred her face. She hadn't had as easy a time getting out of Haven as she would pretend.

"Your boyfriend was much easier to kill though," Gena said and smiled maliciously. "Amazing how effective a bullet can be when faced with a Breed. It takes all the fight right out of the little mutants."

No. He wasn't dead. She fought back the agony streaking through her. She hadn't seen blood. She was positive he had been breathing, just shallowly. He wasn't dead. He wouldn't allow something this evil and malicious to kill him.

"They're here," she whispered, her index finger rubbing at the sapphire stone that held exactly what everyone wanted from her. "You can't escape them that easily, Gena. They're out there, I promise you that."

Even Styx. He had wanted one thing, and he had done what he believed would ensure her cooperation. He had taken her to his bed, given her his warmth, a sense of security in his arms, and at the same time demanded she give over secrets she was terrified to allow anyone to have. Secrets she found herself wanting to give him.

It didn't matter why he had taken her to his bed. It didn't matter what would happen once she gave him the data chip. He would have it. He had given her what no one else had ever attempted to allow her. Security. Warmth. A sense of caring when the darkness of the nightmares chiseled at her confidence.

"It really doesn't matter if they are." Gena shrugged. "Before I leave, they'll believe you simply handed the information over and that you betrayed him as easily as Marx did." She shot Marx a chilling smile over her shoulder. One he returned before lowering his hand to her shoulder and caressing it, with gentleness, before he leaned down and kissed her lips as though he . . . loved her?

"Gross," Storme muttered. "How can you kiss that mouth? He eats people's blood, Gena."

Her smile was filled with relish as she stared back at Storme. "And I share it with him whenever I get the chance."

"I think I need to hurl." She swallowed tightly as she caught the glitter of anger in the other woman's eyes.

Gena was always calm, no matter the situation, and in the past six years, there had been plenty of situations. Tattooed, pierced, easygoing but as tough as nails, the blonde biker rarely seemed ruffled. Until Storme insulted the killer Breed behind her.

"At least I'm honest in my enjoyment of him," Gena drawled. "Tell me, Storme, did you enjoy fucking your Wolf near as much?" She leaned forward, her elbows propped on her knees as her nose wrinkled in a grimace. "Styx Mackenzie is a dirty little dog that pretends to be better than what he is. He was forced to eat as a pup just as the rest of them were."

Storme arched her brow mockingly, knowingly. She knew better. Styx Mackenzie hadn't been trained as the other Breeds had been. From birth he had been personally reared by the man who considered himself Styx's grandfather.

Evidently, Gena didn't know nearly as much about the individual Breeds as she thought she did.

"Let's stop wasting time now." Gena sat back and lifted the weapon lying at her side.

The light but powerful laser-powered handgun was pointed directly at Storme's chest. "The data chip, if you please. This is the only place he could have stashed the damned thing and we're tired of searching for it. Retrieve it, Storme, before I have to kill you."

"It's been ten years," Storme mused quietly. "You of all people should know I don't have what the Council wants."

She had fought this battle for so long. For too long.

God why hadn't she just given in to Styx and Jonas while she had been at Haven. There would have been no need for this then, no need for Gena and Marx to believe that kidnapping her would get them what they wanted.

"You didn't give it to the Breeds." Gena frowned at the thought. "Some of those Breeds gossip to one another like old women. If you had given Jonas Wyatt what he wanted, then Marx would have heard about it."

"Would he have?" Storme glanced at the Coyote as he glared back at her. "Why should they? Jonas Wyatt wouldn't have given that information to anyone any more than he would have given out the location of Brandenmore's grave site."

The pure blood societies believed Brandenmore was dead. It was something Storme knew wasn't the truth. She had seen the truth when Jonas stared at her as she threw the accusation in his face that he was keeping Brandenmore alive.

"Where is it?" Marx nearly came over the back of the couch, his eyes glittering now with bloodthirsty excitement.

"She doesn't know where it's at, moron," Gena drawled in amusement as Storme stared back at her. "Wyatt would have never trusted her with that information."

"I didn't say I knew where it was." Storme shrugged. "I said he wouldn't have gossiped about the chip any more than they were gossiping about Brandenmore. It's that simple."

Gena laughed. A harsh sound that grated against Storme's ears.

"Such a little liar," she exclaimed. "I know you better than that, Storme. You don't trust Styx, therefore you don't trust Wyatt."

"He mated her, Gena."

That comment caused Gena to pause as she stared back at Storme.

"You told me you couldn't smell the mating scent." She turned and stared back at Marx as though in confusion.

"I didn't, until this evening." The Coyote shrugged. "It's come on slowly. I would say if he wasn't dead, then the next time he saw her it would have been full-blown heat."

"Interesting." Gena turned to stare back at her. "It took long enough."

Storme kept her expression smooth, praying they didn't see or sense her confusion.

"So has the big boy knotted you yet?" Gena questioned her as she stared back at her curiously. "I hear he's hung rather well. One of those big ole canine knots up inside you can't feel pleasant."

"Jealous?" Storme asked archly, correctly interpreting Gena's lascivious interest.

They obviously believed the tabloid stories that printed that trash, she thought. Stories of some hormonal, genetic virus, an animal mating reaction and uncontrollable sexual urges.

The hateful glare the other woman shot her warned Storme that Gena would exact a bit of vengeance before actually killing her.

"I'm tired of wasting my time is what I am," she announced, her voice cold once again. "You have about sixty seconds, Storme, then I start hurting you. Rather badly."

She had been hurt before, Storme assured herself. She carried scars that she hadn't carried when she was fourteen. The scars of attacks by Council Coyotes and soldiers who had been sent to force the information from her.

Gena crossed a slender leg over the opposite knee, crossed her arms over her breasts and stared back at her with a cool expression.

"Then I guess you better get started," Storme stated as she steeled herself for whatever was coming.

Her brother and her father had given their lives for this information, Styx had possibly given his life in his attempt to save her and the other women caught in the attack.

She had promised herself that if she was ever caught, she would be as strong as her father had been.

"She thinks she's so brave," Marx growled then. "Protecting the information Daddy trusted her with. I wonder how she feels knowing Daddy gave her up all those years ago. That he told us exactly who had hidden the chip for him."

They were lying and she knew it. Her father knew where it was hidden, and how he had hidden it. He had died to keep it secret.

"It wouldn't take Einstein to figure out he entrusted me with it." She shrugged easily. "I wasn't there, the chip wasn't there, and one and one equals two. Big deal."

Marx laughed. "And Daddy died begging us for his life and swearing to make you give it up to us. Don't bother lying, sweetie, we know you hid it. Just tell us where it's hid."

Her gaze flicked to Gena, catching the other woman staring suspiciously out the picture window behind Storme's chair.

"They're out there, aren't they?" she asked the other woman softly. "Styx isn't dead, Gena. I'm his mate. He'll never let me go."

She would have laughed at her own statement if they hadn't seem so damned serious about it.

It was beginning to make her wonder. Hell, it might be scaring the hell out of her. Because she knew she wasn't his mate.

Gena's gaze flicked to the windows again.

"Ghost Team," Marx whispered. "They were the ones that came out at us when we tried to grab the felina and her brats."

"They've not found us." False bravado filled Gena's voice now. "We may not have gotten the prized princess or their brats, but we got this little whore. Once we get that chip ..."

Storme shook her head. "Styx has that chip, Gena."

"You're a lying little tramp!" Gena came to her feet in a burst of fury, came across the room and slapped Storme full across the face with all the fury of an enraged demon. "I want that fucking chip!" she screamed.

Storme could hear her ears ringing from the blow as the side of her face burned with a fiery numbness and the taste of blood filled her mouth where her lips had split against her teeth.

Storme blinked against the dizziness that filled her head and fought to hold on to her consciousness.

Swallowing tightly, she focused on Gena as she paced back to Marx, reached up, grabbed a handful of short hair and jerked his head down for a deep, tongue-tangling kiss.