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."