Styx's Storm (Breeds 16)

The ring was suddenly like a heavy weight on her finger now. For the first time since her father had pushed it on, Storme wanted to take it off.

It was no longer a reminder of her father, it was now a reminder of everything she didn't have, and everything she wouldn't have in her life.

"A little mystery, or as much resentment as possible?" he asked and sighed.

"Hey, whichever works at the moment," she assured him as she grabbed the heavy weight of her backpack and headed for the kitchen.

"You won't need the bag," he assured her.

"My bag goes where I go," she told him firmly. "If it stays, I stay."

"Why? What's in it, Storme, that you feel you have to have?"

For a second, her gaze flickered with a vulnerability he hadn't expected.

"You never know what can happen, Styx," she finally stated, the edge of discomfort in her voice reflecting in her scent.

Styx realized that her statement, that one never knew what could happen, was far too true in her life. For ten years she had never known where safety lay, or if the next day would be her last.

Styx watched her back as she disappeared out of the bedroom, and he breathed out a heavy sigh.

The backpack was a symbol of security, perhaps. As she had said, she was never seen without it. But that didn't mean she would need it here in Haven. There were no longer any weapons in it, and there was nothing that would indicate the data chip was hidden there.

The backpack and its contents had been scanned, run through an x-ray and every conceivable electronic imaging device that would have revealed the data chip.

There was nothing hidden there, he was willing to bet his ass on it. Nothing but her need to ensure that no matter what happened, she was prepared. He could live with that.

Shaking his head at the wonder and the confusion this woman brought to his life, Styx followed behind her to the kitchen and watched as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

The backpack rested on a kitchen chair, the faded olive green canvas nicked and frayed in places. For a moment, he was damned jealous of the pack's importance in her life. She held on to it as a talisman of some kind. The way he wished she would accept him into her life. Perhaps then the torturous arousal burning in his cock and balls would stop driving him insane. The mating knot refused to swell and release the hormone-rich semen that would begin the full mating process.

As Styx moved to the long drawer at the side of the ceramic sink and pulled it open, he wondered at the jokes nature seemed to enjoy playing on the Breeds.

He grabbed a milk chocolate bar from the drawer and opened it and as he watched her sip at her coffee, he took a bite of the smooth, rich sweet.

Damn, he loved chocolate, but he'd give it up easily if it meant having Storme as he needed her.

"That has to be the third bar of chocolate I've seen you eat in the past three days." She stared at the chocolate with a hint of jealousy.

"It's actually most likely the twelfth or better," he drawled, allowing the smooth edge of the brogue back into his voice.

She reacted to it instantly. The soft edge of liquid heat wafted from her, tempting his senses and making his cock throb harder. Damn, at this rate, the pigs might overcook while he satisfied a far different hunger.

"Twelve?" Her gaze flicked to the chocolate bar again as he parted his lips for another bite.

"At least." He nodded. "I'm rather fond of the sweet."

"You're going to get fat,"

she muttered, her gaze flicking to his stomach.

Styx grinned. "Breeds have a very high metabolism, lass. It burns off near as fast as I eat it."

Yep, that was pure envy that lit her green eyes. She wanted the chocolate.

Stepping closer, he moved his hand to allow the chocolate to glance off her lips. The smear of the dark sweet was immediately collected by her little pink tongue.

"Do ye want a bit, lass?" he asked, teasing her again, brushing the soft chocolate against her lips once more. "I've no problem sharin' my chocolate wi' ya."