Styx's Storm (Breeds 16)

The males shook hands, the wives hugged warmly, but Storme noticed that the male alphas didn't touch Elizabeth Sinclair in any way. And Dash, in thanking the alphas' wives, touched nothing but their hair. A tender, light stroke of the backs of his fingers against the right side of their heads. The male alphas did the same with Elizabeth. At no time did a Breed male touch a mated-female's flesh.

And though it appeared odd, there also seemed to be an immeasurable sense of respect and affection in the slight caress.

Dash turned to the crowd. "We have our trials," he stated, his tone rough, a hard rumble of sound softened with camaraderie and a vein of warmth that matched the gleam of purpose and determination in his gaze. "We also have our joys." He glanced to his wife and then to his daughter. "Tonight, the celebration isn't just for Elizabeth and me. It's for all of us." He lifted his glass then and toasted the others, and the cheers that went up were almost deafening.

It was more than a celebration. It was an affirmation.

As Storme stared around the table at the others, she caught Hope Gunnar's gaze and felt that first raw shaft of guilt since the night she had sworn the Breeds would pay for what had happened to her father and brother.

They were to blame, she had believed. The Coyotes, the escaping Breeds who hadn't thought to protect her father and brother when they had gone so far to help them achieve the freedom they had gained that night.

She had blamed the scientists, she had blamed the soldiers and the Council. And until Styx, she had refused to see the humanity that was such an integral part of the Breeds.

Now, watching as they ate, laughed and celebrated this anniversary with such a sense of thanksgiving, she had no choice but to face the rage and the pain that had driven her to blame an entire species for what one Breed had done.

And she didn't like seeing that part of herself. She didn't like seeing that it had been more than just loyalty to her father, or her determination to do as he would have wanted her to do.

He would have wanted her to give the Breeds that information. The very fact that he had hidden it from his fellow scientists assured her of that, and she had known it all along.

Lowering her gaze, she focused on the antique ring. She had worn it for ten years, refusing to take it off. All that time she had told herself she couldn't reveal it, couldn't allow herself to be caught, couldn't trust anyone, because her father hadn't told her who to trust.

But he had.

As plates were emptied and the music began to fill the clearing, Storme stood as Styx did and watched as Wolfe and Hope approached them.

Hope hadn't come to the cabin since that first night. She hadn't extended her friendship again, and she hadn't made an effort to give Storme the opportunity to apologize.

Standing silently, aware of the gazes that settled on them, and stayed, Storme met Hope's gaze as she and Wolfe came to a stop in front of Styx.

"Once again, Styx, the pork was perfection." Wolfe Gunnar inclined his head in thanks as a smile tugged at his lips. "Keep it up and we'll see about making you head chef."

Styx laughed. "Over my dead body, Alpha. I wouldn't take that job on a bet."

Wolfe laughed as he turned to Storme. "Styx insists on personally roasting the pig that sits on the anniversary table, Ms. Montague. He considers it his gift to the couple."

"It was perfect," Storme agreed. "I have to admit, the food he's prepared while I've been with him has been excellent," she admitted as she glanced at Hope once again. "Hello, Hope."

The lupina of the Wolf packs watched her closely.

"Hello, Storme, I trust Styx has kept you comfortable while you've been in Haven?" She was proud, but she always had been. Compassion and mercy had always tempered it, but Storme realized she had made a grave mistake when she had insulted the man Hope was in love with.

And it was love. She hadn't been forced, she wasn't there out of guilt. She was there because Wolfe Gunnar was her other half, the vision of love Storme had overheard her discussing with James so very long ago.

"My father once told me I spent too much time focusing on what wasn't important," Storme admitted to the other woman. "He said one of these days I would end up tripping and pushing my foot into my mouth at a time when I would regret it. It's unfortunate he was right."

Surprise flickered in Hope's blue eyes. "The good thing about stumbling is that you can stand back up and continue more carefully," she expressed coolly.

"Only if you don't manage to break anything," Storme stated regretfully. "I apologize for the insult to your husband and to the alpha, Hope. There's no excuse for it, and if I could retract my behavior, then I would do so."

She wouldn't grovel, but the Hope she remembered would have never expected her to.

"Nothing was broken, Storme," Hope assured her, the cool gleam in her gaze warming marginally, enough to give Storme hope.

She nodded before turning to Wolfe once again. "If you and Director Wyatt could meet with me tonight, Alpha Gunnar, I believe we have some business to discuss."

Styx stiffened at her side. For a moment, she swore she could feel his tension wrapping around her. His hand moved from the small of her back to her hip, his fingers curling over it firmly.

"I'll be there as well," Styx stated, his voice firm.