Styx's Storm (Breeds 16)

Ghost Team. Styx had heard a vague rumor of the specially trained, select team of Breeds Jonas had put together well before he had been elected as director of the Bureau of Breed Affairs.

Like most Breeds, Styx had believed it was no more than a fable. But that fable was the only thing he could think of that could possibly carry out such an order.

"If your hand or your order takes the life of my mate, then watch your back, Jonas," Styx warned him as he felt the animal genetics that created him kicking in place at the thought of any risk to Storme. "Be damned sure you watch your back."

Turning, Styx stalked from the office and back to the front door. He ignored Rachel's questioning voice as she stepped from the kitchen and saw him leave. He didn't slam the door, not a sound was made as it closed. A clear indication to Jonas as he watched from the office door that the Wolf, the warrior Breed Styx was created to be, was fully dominant.

He fought back a smile, slid his hands in the pockets of his slacks and glanced back at his mate as she frowned at him suspiciously.

"What are you up to, Jonas?" Ah, how well she knew him. She was the other half of him just as he had always known she would be.

"Sometimes, human and Breed alike need a subtle little push to do what I feel they should do," he told her as he leaned against the door frame and allowed his gaze to rove over her slowly.

Her body was nearing the "heat" again. He could sense it, scent it as she watched him with those beautiful, suspicious blue eyes.

"What you feel they should do." Her brows lifted at the statement. "Jonas, do you ever worry that one day one of these Breeds you maneuver may decide to kill you rather than tolerate your interference any longer?"

It was a question she posed to him often.

Jonas grinned, as he always did. "They like you too much, mate. They wouldn't see you suffer for my sins."

And there were days he suspected that was much too close to the truth. His Enforcers went to her to complain, to rail, to rage and to threaten him. She soothed their ruffled fur, commiserated with them and generally kept him alive from one day to the next, he had no doubt.

Rachel crossed her arms over her breasts, cocked her curvy little hip and arched a brow mockingly. "One of these days, I just might help them."

CHAPTER 11

She found a way out.

Storme watched late that evening as the Breed Enforcers guarding the house crossed paths, stopped and chatted. After the weeks she had been here, they were doing something she hadn't expected. They were growing complacent.

The night was cloudy, storm clouds brewing over the mountains to block the emerging moon and dim the light shining down on Haven.

She had to run.

Her emotions were in such conflict, the needs, the realities she had always known under attack. She couldn't fight this much longer. If she didn't get away from Haven, then she would never feel that the decision she was close to making was the right one to make.

As long as she was here in Styx's home, surrounded by the humanity and the joy of life and freedom she glimpsed in the Breeds, then her emotions were in such conflict that making the decision was becoming impossible.

Just as the thought of doing without Styx, of being without him, was beginning to become an agonizing choice.

It was a choice she would have to make eventually though. There was no future to a life here, no matter how much she was beginning to wish there were.

Checking the clock, she laced the hiking boots she had slid her feet into and pulled on the long-sleeved denim shirt she had stolen from Styx. When she retrieved the capsule, a grimace tightened her lips. It was crushed, the capsule no more than a fine powder now.

She could only pray she could mask her scent now.

Scent was everything when the Breeds tracked. If she covered her scent with his, it would make it easier to slip away and hike around the base of the Coyote rise to the other side, where she could slip through the security fence easier.

They would detect the break and move immediately to secure the perimeter. They might even be aware it was her breaking through, but she would be close enough to the main road that they wouldn't know if she had caught a ride or not. She knew how to hide from Breeds. She had been doing it for years, until Styx had captured her.

But that was Styx. She was convinced it had been the man combined with the situation that had led to her capture by her fun-loving, too charming Scots Wolf.

And now walking away from him was killing her.

Rubbing at her arms, she grimaced at the irritation she could feel just below the flesh. It was becoming more prominent now than it had been before. It was directly related to Styx, she knew, because if he touched her, if he kissed her, if she tasted that erotic, elusive flavor of chocolate and cinnamon, then the irritation eased. The arousal grew, became heated and hot, but that irritating, frustrating tingle beneath her skin went away.

The hunger for his kiss became sated, for a while at least.