by Lora Leigh
"I wish I could kill every fucking Council member, soldier and scientist that was a part of this," Nikki cursed as she cleaned a particularly nasty scratch on Storme's hip. "Bastards. She's run herself to exhaustion."
"How's she doin', Doc?" he finally asked when the doctor gently tucked a quilt around her shoulders.
"She'll sleep for a while longer." Nikki tossed back the riot of heavy black braids that fell from her head to her shoulders as she rose and turned to him. "I've taken the blood and saliva samples, but until she's conscious I refuse to take the vaginal swabs I need to figure out what the hell is going on with the mating." She cast him a confused look. "I've never heard of a mating as you've described, Styx. I'm not comfortable even guessing the problem here."
Solemn dark brown eyes gleamed within the cafe au lait creaminess of her flesh as she gave a heavy sigh and began collecting the vials of samples and storing them in the heavy-duty medical case she carried with her. The medical case held samples of his own--enough blood, saliva swabs and vials of semen to create a little Styx army, he thought mockingly.
Lord love a Wolf, he'd known this woman was trouble the minute Jonas had given him the assignment to track her. When Nikki had called him back to Haven to inform him of the results of the mating tests she'd done on the girl, she had only confirmed it.
"Is there any way to fix this, Doc?" he asked on a heavy sigh, as he restrained the urge to shift the heavy erection beneath the jeans he'd changed into.
He was so damned hard his cock throbbed in near agony.
Nikki propped her hands on her hips and gazed back down at Storme for long seconds.
"I don't know, Styx," she finally sighed. "Until I do some tests and consult with the other scientists working on this, I hesitate to even guess."
Styx grimaced. "I think I'd rather face a pit of rattlers, Doc, than suffer this much longer."
It was a well-known fact within Haven that Styx hated snakes. Viperous, poisonous bastards, the mountain seemed overrun with them at times.
Styx could think of far better ways to torture himself than with an arousal that refused to relent. Though he couldn't blame it all on the mating heat. Truth be told, he'd stayed hard for the wee lass since the day he'd first caught sight of her.
With all that black hair flowing around her, those wary green eyes searching the shadows where he hid and the weariness in her too somber expression had tugged at him. He'd wanted to hold her even then. To protect her, to ease the pain he could sense just beneath the surface. Hell, what sin was he paying for, he wondered, that had nature playing this little joke at his expense? Hadn't he been a good Wolf? He'd always strived to excel, whether in killing or in loving. Yet still his mate didn't carry his mark, and the Wolf inside him was snarling in impatience.
He'd give his rather impressive canines for that brand to be in place as it should be now. For her silken flesh to be flushed in arousal, the heat of the mating making her wet and eager for his possession.
Storme Montague was his mate. She was his. The one and only woman who completed that part of him that he hadn't known hungered for such a thing.
He hadn't imagined how important it could become until he had tasted her kiss, felt her touch, and found his release in the tight, sweet grip of her silky pussy.
"I can smell your impatience and I'm not even a Breed," Nikki said, accusing him lightly. "I'll tell you what I've told the others. I've never seen mating heat react the same on any two couples. It's an anomaly, Styx. Nature is refining as she goes, and we're just going to have to deal with it. You're mating heat just may be particularly complicated, likely because of your odd genetics." She grimaced.
Complicated didn't come close, he thought with an edge of anger.
"Last I heard, lass, I was a red Wolf mixed with some fine Scots blood. Do you know something aboot my genetics the good scientists neglected to mention?"
Nikki rolled her eyes. "Of course, learning that those genetics come from one of history's greatest warriors shouldn't concern us, should it?"
He winked back at her. "One of history's greatest lovers as well, I've heard."
She snorted at that. "Watch it, Red, or I'll see if I can't mess up those fine genetics for you."
He winked flirtatiously. "You can play with my genetics any day, Doc. When are ye wantin' to start?"
At the moment, he'd much rather tease, flirt, or face those snakes than face the complications of the hard-on throbbing in his jeans.
She shook her head before her eyes did a quick, mocking roll.
"Styx, keep it up and I'm going to begin to suspect there's more human DNA in your mix than Wolf." She chided him with a tired smile before indicating the medical case, a gesture that told the assistant who accompanied her to collect everything so they could head out.
"Ah, Nikki my love," he sighed. "Such insults to my fair self. Have ye ever known a human that could compare to my rather rare talents?" He shot her a quick grin as he stepped back from the doorway to allow her to pass him.
His talents were indeed rare. His father's genetics mixed with those of the historic Robert the Bruce had created a true Scots warrior, but it had been a fine friend of his father's who had trained him in a nearly extinct, deadly form of martial arts.
His martial training had been secretive, and conducted under the good Dr. Mackenzie's eagle eye. After all, Styx and several of his litter mates had been created using the sperm and DNA of Mackenzie's dead son, and he considered them all part of his blood. So much so that he had risked death himself several times to ensure not just their safety but also their well-being.
"Chocolate-eating Breeds are a dime a dozen, Red," she quipped as she paused in the large open living area and grinned back at him. "Or do you possess talents outside of breaking into the alpha's cabins to steal their mates' chocolate?"
She damned well knew he did. Styx laughed at the apparent insult though, knowing the good doctor meant more jest than harm.
She knew the truth of his training, just as she knew he had been trained to gain information, no matter the method used to unlock the secrets.
Seduction was but one of the games he knew to attain what he wanted. There were other ways, other calculations, other routes to twist a woman's emotions and desires until a Breed gained what he had been sent for.
"That they are, love," he agreed with her. "But, ones such as I are so rare as to be all but nonexistent."
"And they need to stay nonexistent," she reminded him. "Watch yourself with her, Styx. Unlike many of your play-mates, she just may know more than any of us are comfortable with. Or much less than Jonas could hope. She's dangerous to us either way, and I'm afraid the reason the mating isn't fully present could be the fact that you suspect she can't be trusted."
Styx shook his head. That wasn't the problem and he knew it.
"I believe it's because of her." He nodded to his slumbering mate. "Perhaps the heat, the animalistic qualities of it are more than she can handle at present, Doc. She's terrified."
"She wants to be terrified." Nikki shrugged. "She knows not all Breeds are like those who killed her family, Styx. But for whatever reason she can't let go of that disc. Perhaps she uses the fear to rationalize that. A lot of our female Breeds still have that problem where socializing is concerned. They can't let go of the enforced training that punished them for it."
There were many of them, males as well as female Breeds, who had problems rising above that conditioning. Laughter, socializing, emotion had been heavily punishable offenses in the labs.
"She could be dangerous to us, Styx," Nikki warned him. "Be careful. You've claimed her. If she betrays Haven, then her punishment could be yours as well."
That was the law, technically. Though Styx knew that if his mate betrayed Haven in a manner that meant she was sentenced to die, then he would die himself trying to protect her.
She was worth the risk, he told himself. The hint of a smile he'd caught on her face the night before, the scent of gentle la
ughter she'd tried to hide. It was all worth it.
"But if life were lived without dangers, what adventures would we then find?" he asked Nikki as he tilted his head and stared back at her seriously. "I'll take the adventures any day, as well as the risks."
"No doubt you would." Nikki shook her head, the tiny braids swinging past her shoulders as she chided him gently. "You're too wild, Styx. Much too wild. You should discuss that with your grandfather."
His grandfather. His creator. What-the-fuck-ever, Styx thought with a hint of cynicism. His grandfather was the man who had dreamed of bringing back the dead, only to learn the value of allowing the dead to rest in peace.
"Call me if you need me." Nikki lifted her hand as her assistant opened the door and stepped from the cabin. "I'll send some vitamins and more antibiotics once I get to the office. Now let her rest. No sexual hijinks until she's stronger."
Styx grunted at the order before moving with Nikki through the cabin to the front door.
Closing the door behind her, he didn't bother to lock it just yet. It was something he rarely did, preferring instead to face the challenge that if Haven did possess spies, as Sanctuary did, they would take the dare to enter his home.
Life could be lived to the fullest or he could hide and worry himself bald about the security he felt Breeds would never know. Styx preferred to live, and he was going to have to teach his mate to do the same.
Leaning against the door frame as he stared at the fragile form beneath the quilts that covered his bed, watching her, he wondered, not for the first time, how he had managed to end up in a situation such as this.
Almost mated? He snorted at the thought and wondered who the hell to blame for it.
He finally decided on Jonas Wyatt, the infuriating director of the Bureau of Breed Affairs who had given him the job of tracking the wee lass down. No doubt, the interfering bastard was practicing his matchmaking habits again. His Enforcers swore he did it deliberately.
He crossed his arms over his chest, tilted his head and pursed his lips as he considered the benefits of his investigation into an almost mating with his courageous little mate.
One damned thing was certain, he'd not be bored.
Not that he was often bored. There'd been a whole world out there to investigate and to enjoy before he found her. He had a feeling she would challenge him far more than the world ever had though.
Moving into the bedroom, he checked her temperature, tucked the blankets around her again and gazed down at her sleeping face.
She looked at peace for a change.
The tranquilizer she had been shot with hadn't been a powerful one, but the exhaustion and physical weakness had taken their toll on her.
He was betting this was this first decent sleep she'd had in years.
"She's damned pretty."
Styx swung around, his weapon clearing the holster on instinct even as he realized who spoke behind him. He cursed his apparent absorption with his mate, and accepted it at the same time, and blamed it for the fact that he hadn't heard his "grandfather" slip into the cabin.
"You're gonna get yourself killed, my friend," he informed him as he holstered the weapon just as quickly.
A single gray brow lifted as mocking amusement filled Dougal Mackenzie's expression. "I hear there's some question of the mating?" he asked as he entered the bedroom. "I met Nikki outside. She seems to think the mating heat is reacting to a distrust you have of the girl?"
Hell, the old man was going to nosy. That was just what he needed.
"Don't you have your own mate to worry about?" Styx grunted. He was still damned uncomfortable with the fact that his biological grandfather had mated one of the older Wolf Breed females.
Not that there were many of them. Animera had been in her forties when the lab she had been created in, in France, had been liberated. The small facility had housed four Breeds, all females, that were once trained and used as whores for the Council.
Animera was as beautiful as any Breed, though harder than many. Once she had met Dougal, that stony outer shell had cracked though, and the woman hiding within had emerged.
They were a good match, yet watching the man who called himself Styx's "grandfather" becoming younger as the years wore on was damned uncomfortable.
The mating phenomenon was complicated, confusing and had the potential to destroy the Breeds, especially if Dougal's unique reaction to it were ever learned.
"You're staring at me as though I'm a freak again," Dougal snapped. "Don't let's turn this into yelling match, boy."
Styx grunted. "I don't have time for you today." He moved to the door and motioned Dougal to the living room.
"Doesn't surprise me," Dougal grunted. "Ye've not had time for me since Animera and I mated."
Styx grimaced as he headed for the kitchen and the coffee. This man who had created him, called himself his grandfather and insisted on interfering in his life had the ability to make him damned nervous.
"I've been busy," he lied without so much as a twinge of guilt.
Dougal snorted at the excuse. "Ye've been runnin'. What makes ye so damned uncomfortable around me now, boy? The fact that I'm happy for a change?"
"The fact that in the past eight years you seem to have regressed in age a good ten?" Styx questioned him mockingly. "Sorry, Pops, I guess I'm just not used to it. It throws a mon off just a wee bit." Dougal ignored the comment. This was the way of every argument they had. Styx couldn't explain why he was having problems with it, he just knew he was. Give it another six to ten years and his grandfather would look more like his brother.
"I'm sending after the equipment we hid in Scotland," Dougal said then, changing the subject. "Animera and I will be settin' a lab up here to aid Dr. Armani. The equipment we hid is more specialized, some of the technology more advanced than what Vanderale and Lawrence Industries have been providing. I'd like to see if we can't do more to figure out the problem of conception with the Wolf Breeds."
"Perhaps we weren't meant to conceive," Styx growled as he turned to glare at the other man. "The Feline mates conceive fine without help. Hell, they need birth control rather than conception aids. Let nature figure it out herself."
"You don't have the luxury of time, Styx," Dougal retorted, as he had in the past.
"Then we'll make the luxury."
Styx shrugged. Hell, he didn't want to argue over this. He wanted to curl up in the bed with his mate and warm her, to ensure she was never cold again.
"That may not be possible," Dougal warned him, his tone far too somber now. "My contacts within the Council Directorate's ranks called this morning. The Coyote they had chasing her was found in his hotel room this morning, dead. He'd been shot in the back of the head. The weapon used was the same the Montague girl used last month when she wounded one of their soldiers. They're assembling a team to find her."
The bastard had been executed. It served Farce right, and Styx was pretty certain Dog had been the executioner.
"Any word on where they're concentrating their search?" Styx asked.
Dougal shook his head. "My contact said they're being damned quiet about it, but they want that girl more now than they did a month ago."
They were more careful now. The Directorate ensured that they were never in any way associated with the Breeds or the trainers and scientists that still worked for their cause. World sentiment was currently strong enough against the Breeds that prison sentences were being passed down on the few that had gone to trial in the past years.
The Directorate was careful, but they were still lethal. The fact that a team had been assembled to bring Storme in worried Styx.
"I'll take care of it," he assured Dougal.
"Be careful, lad," Dougal sighed. "You may be uncomfortable with the fact that we're family, but that's what we are. You and your brothers and sister are still my life. Losing any of you would break my heart."
Dougal stepped closer and much to Styx's consternation wrapped his arms around his shou
lders for a quick hug.
"You're important to us as well, dammit." Styx raked his fingers through his hair as he stepped back and glared at him. "Cannot ye keep the mushy stuff for your mate and just continue as we were? Hell, Pops, give her the hugs."
Dougal chuckled at the response. "Ye'll get used to it, lad. Now I'll head to the labs and see what Nikki and I can come up with on your mating problems. She's requesting Amburg's help on this as well; he worked with Wolf Breeds almost as much as the Felines. Between the three of us here and Drs. Morrey and Vanderale at Sanctuary, I believe we'll have this problem solved in no time."
One problem down, God only knew how many more to go, Styx thought irritably as his grandfather left the cabin. Styx had a feeling this problem wouldn't be so easily fixed though. Mating heat and the word "easy" never went hand in hand.
Hell, he didn't need this. Not his grandfather with his youth returning, not Jonas in child protective mode, not all that while he was in the middle of a mating heat that wasn't a mating heat, with a mate who smelled of fear more often than affection.
Hell, he should kill Jonas simply for waiting until he needed the information before pulling Storme into safety. She could have learned, easily, that the Breeds weren't the monsters they were made out to be.
He'd show her that here though. Show her now.
Returning to the kitchen, he pulled the ingredients for dinner out of the freezer. Chicken soup fixed everything, the Felina, the alpha female of the Feline prides, had once assured him. He had a feeling she wasn't talking about a delayed mating heat though.
He stared at the chicken he'd laid in the sink to defrost, turned the water on to flow over it and decided he'd finally found a problem chocolate couldn't fix.
Grinning at the thought, he laid vegetables on the cutting board by the sink, then pulled the chef's knife from the butcher block to begin chopping them.
He was on the first slice when his body tensed, and before he could even consider his actions he raced from the kitchen, out the front door and to the side of the house.
The bedroom window was shattered.
Glass lay spread out on the pristine grass, some tipped with blood, some still lodged and glittering in the long black hair that fell around Storme's features and emphasized those large, fear-ridden emerald green eyes.
She looked like a cat. Lithe, sensual, clawed and hissing.
But she wasn't a cat. She was a Wolf's mate. She was his mate. And by God he was growing tired of her hurting herself, endangering herself and generally refusing to care for her own health.
If this trick was anything to go by, taming her was going to be a full-time job and ensuring her place in Haven wasn't going to be easy.
One thing was for damned certain, she could well see an ass paddling in her future if it didn't come to an end.
Alarms were screaming, and the bud tucked into his ear began filling with Breed reports even as Styx stared at the fearful vision crouched in front of him.
He felt his stomach clench with rage as a snarl of protective fury burst from his chest. Damn her, he'd not allow her to continue this habit of harming herself. He couldn't bear to see more wounds on her delicate, pale flesh.
"She went out the back window. She's contained and we've only to return her to her room," Styx reported into the sensitive mic attached to the ear bud. "All Enforcers stand down. I repeat, stand down." Weapons were held ready with more Enforcers racing for the area.
The last thing he needed was the circle of Breeds already forming around her, let alone what could happen if more joined.
Terror and shock were vivid on her pale face, her dark green eyes were wild, and her long, straight black hair fanned around her. Her slender body was crouched as his was, facing the Breeds that had slowly begun to surround her.
In her own mind she was a woman facing death.
A woman who would die before walking easily into the monster's embrace again.
And Styx decided in that moment that she would come, and come easily, to his every touch.
CHAPTER 5
She was dead.
Storme remained crouched, her breathing harsh and irregular as she stared back into the clear, amused gaze of the red Wolf casually facing her, his arms crossed over his chest, his blue eyes glittering with irritation. Canines gleamed in the early morning light as long, burnished red hair feathered back in the breeze and tempted her fingers to dig in and grip fingerfuls as she pulled him into her kiss.
She swore she could almost taste his kiss. Chocolate and spice, a hint of coffee and peppermint. The taste of it was on her lips, against her tongue, and she couldn't get rid of it. She'd awakened with the taste of him tormenting her, pushing her to demand more. What she wanted was freedom, she assured herself, not some Breed's kiss.
Not this Breed. Not the possessiveness, the dominance glowing in his gaze.
Savagery reflected in his features. A brutal, too attractive sort of savagery that drew a woman even as her survival instincts kicked in with a scream.
This was the Breed she had slept with, the one that had given her such pleasure. She'd managed over the years to do a vast amount of research by using the passwords to Council records she'd been able to hack. She knew many of the Breeds by face as well as by their lab reports.
"Styx," she whispered as dread threatened to overwhelm her. She had read that in mythology the word meant "hated," "detested." It was the river of death, and so this Breed was one known for his hatred of humans and his ability to kill in the most painful ways and always with a smile.
If she died, she was going to go down fighting. She would not willingly give this bastard her neck for to rip open.
But shouldn't she have thought of this before she fucked him? Before she gave in to her weakness, gave in to the need to relish his warmth rather than running another night?
"Ah, lass, would ye keep runnin' from me," he crooned, that devil's soft brogue stroking over her feminine senses as every muscle in her body tightened further in the demand that she run.
She wouldn't make it far. There were more than a dozen Breeds surrounding her, all Wolf and Coyote, with the exception of the director of the Bureau of Breed Affairs, who lounged casually at the corner of the cabin.
She swallowed tightly. "Let me leave."
"Give me wha' I want, lass, and the Breeds will give you free passage. I promise this."