Styx's Storm

by Lora Leigh

  er father, the one he had feared she would break.

  "Dad told James he couldn't trust me," she whispered as he continued to hold her. "Once, Scheme Tallant came to Omega, and I caught her talking to several Breeds secretly. I told Dad and James she was up to something, and they didn't say anything then. Later, I heard them talking. Dad told my brother that I wasn't loyal enough."

  She pulled back from him as she wrapped her arms across her breasts and moved to the back door, where she gazed through the window into the courtyard.

  "I was loyal," she whispered. "If I hadn't been, I wouldn't have told him about Scheme. I was loyal to my father and my brother. I wasn't old enough and didn't know enough to give my loyalty to anyone else."

  And this was the battle she fought, Styx thought heavily. A battle that would be impossible for Storme to turn her back on. As the only daughter living in the Omega labs, facing the monsters the Council wanted to turn the Breeds into, seeing their savagery and their agony, she could have easily mistaken it for animal brutality.

  The same type of animal that killed her family, the ones that shadowed her for years, pressuring her into giving up the information her father had made her swear she would protect.

  She would protect it with her life, he thought. And it might very well come to her life.

  "Your da loved you, Storme," he promised her softly. "He knew you were young, he knew you feared the Breeds and giving them your loyalty wouldn't be easy. Perhaps this was what he meant."

  She turned back to him, a bitter smile curving her lips as she rubbed at her arms. "Perhaps," she whispered, then fought to shake off the pain, and the past. "You didn't answer me, when are we leaving?"

  Styx almost sighed in regret. For a moment, for just a moment, he had felt as though, at the least, she was prepared to discuss the possibility of giving him the data chip. Now he could feel, smell, the refusal in her.

  She had pulled back with an inner strength and determination that was integral to woman she was.

  "I'll give my life to protect you, Storme, whether against Breeds or against the Council."

  Shock flashed in her eyes. He had heard his own voice, the animal inside him coming to the fore and revealing itself in the growl.

  "What?" She shook her head as though what he were saying made no sense to her.

  "My loyalty is to you," he stated, knowing he would not attempt to hide that from her any longer. She was his mate, and she might not have accepted him, but he had accepted her the moment he tasted her first kiss.

  "Exactly what I said, lass. My loyalty is yours. I'd die to protect you, whether from Council soldiers, scientists or Breed Law and Jonas Wyatt. I'll no longer allow anyone or anything to steal the security I can give you. I'd prefer to make it easy." He gave her a soft smile. "I do rather enjoy my lazier side. For you though, I'll deal with whatever I must, unless you make the choice to give the information to anyone other than myself or Jonas."

  The line was drawn, but it wasn't a line she had a problem with. Until she could decide the consequences to herself, and perhaps to the world, of breaking her promise, then it was all she had.

  "We're not as bad as the pure blood societies would have you believe, love." He chided her as she continued to stare back at him.

  She smiled. Tentative, soft. A curve of her lips that blended with the soft scent of . . . His head tilted as he drew that scent in. It was darker than affection, but nowhere close to the scent of mates that he had known from what others experienced.

  But it was a start, a sliver of hope. And he would take what he could get until he had the time to steal her heart fully.

  CHAPTER 15

  Styx gave Storme a reprieve. A few minutes to pull together the emotions raging through her as she fought the realizations he knew she was coming to.

  He was making headway. There came a time in a man's, or a Breed's, life, when he had his own realizations. One of those was the knowledge that pushing Storme further could be more detrimental than simply walking away and allowing her to consider her options.

  The first pig he and Navarro had placed in the fire pit had come out more than an hour before. That was the ceremonial roasted pig served to the mated couple's table, where the special guests of the couple sat.

  The rest of the pork for the pig roast was ready to come off the spits now. It would be laid on the large banquet tables set up to hold bowls and platters of other contributions to the feast as well.

  As he and several of the Enforcers extracted the roasted pork and laid each pig on one of the specially made wooden platters, Styx turned and caught sight of one of the Coyote Breeds currently working outside Haven.

  "Marx, good to see you." Styx nodded to the Coyote as he strolled into the banquet area.

  Marx Whitman was one of the rougher cut Coyote Breeds. As though the genetics for exceptional good looks and grace had somehow gone awry.

  At five feet, eight inches, stocky, with a heavily muscular chest and arms, the quiet, normally antisocial Breed walked slowly to him.

  "The Sinclair mating anniversary." Marx looked over the heavily laden tables. "You can smell that pig roasting all the way to the main gates."

  "Aye, the Breeds on duty this evening have already called, bitching. The scent they say is starving them to death."

  Marx chuckled at the comment before standing awkwardly for long moments.

  "I hear you have a captive," he drawled. "Something about a woman that's leading you a merry little chase."

  Styx grinned. "She is at that."

  Marx shook his head, his brown eyes filling with amusement as he inhaled slowly. "There's no mating scent, man. What the hell is going on with that?"

  Styx lifted his hand to rub at the back of his neck as he gave Marx a confused look. The other man rarely poked his nose into anyone else's business. Hell, when he wasn't on assignment he rarely came down from the mountain the Coyotes used as their home base, unless he had to.

  "No one said it was a mating," Styx informed him.

  Styx was unwilling to discuss the details or the problems associated with this particular mating.

  "True." Marx inclined his head in agreement as he looked around at the food once again.

  Most Breeds were difficult to read at the best of times. They learned to control their emotions and therefore their hormonal scents, making it harder to sense if a Breed were lying, telling the truth, or perhaps hungry and needing to join a celebration he wasn't familiar with.

  "Are you going back to Haven for a while?" Styx asked as he covered the last roast pig with a large sheet of foil, aware of other Breeds beginning to move into the courtyard.

  "For a while," Marx answered absently. "Hey, have you seen Wolfe and Hope around? I wanted to say hello while I was here."

  Talking to Marx was never easy. He shifted from one conversation to the next without warning and normally without finishing the previous conversation.

  "They're visiting with Dash and Elizabeth," Styx informed him.

  Dash didn't normally keep his family in Haven on a full-time basis. Cassie actually spent much of her time in Sanctuary. At the time that Dash had needed Breed help in protecting his new mate and her child, Haven had been a carefully guarded secret. Sanctuary, the Feline Breed compound, had been fully operational, with the Breeds of all species arriving almost daily from rescues and escapes. Dash had called the Felines, and Cassie had stayed there while Dash and her mother neutralized that first of many threats to the child.

  "I'll catch up with them." Marx nodded. "See ya later, Styx."

  Styx watched the other man leave, a frown on his brow before he shook his head. Marx had always been an odd one.

  "Faith, the pork is perfect and ready." He turned to the Wolf Breed liaison to the Bureau of Breed Affairs.

  Vivid black eyes, shoulder-length reddish brown hair and a creamy, satiny complexion. Tall and lithe, competent and deadly when she had to be, and still, she managed to look soft, gentle and without a merciless
bone in her body.

  Styx knew for a fact that Faith could and would kill as fast as any Breed male. Perhaps faster. Breed females were hardened in the labs in ways the males weren't. In many cases they were considered no more than toys to the soldiers and Council trainers. The fact that they had managed to maintain the innocence of their hearts amazed Styx.

  Faith had escaped the worst of it, but still, life had been brutal for her there.

  "Great." A ready smile crossed Faith's lips as she moved from the vegetable table to the roast pork. "It smells wonderful."

  "Aye, a'course it does." Styx winked. "I did the deed myself."

  Faith laughed, those unusual black eyes twinkling in delight.

  "Is your captive coming to the feast?" she teased him then. "She's stayed hidden in the past weeks. I was hoping to get to meet her."

  "Aye, tonight she'll be here." He nodded. "I wanted to get the pork from the pit and finish preparations before escorting her to the party."

  Faith nodded. "Nikki mentioned the tests she's been doing." Her gaze flashed in concern. "Have there been any answers there?"

  Styx shook his head. "And they're beginnin' to piss me off, Faith," he growled.

  Where he had been unwilling to discuss the "almost" mating with Marx, he found himself able to talk to Faith about it.

  "Mating heat makes you crazy anyway." She grinned, obviously not too crazy yet. "Once it hits, you'll be praying for a break." A teasing wink belied her words; her smile assured him she was perfectly content with the life and the heat she shared with her mate.

  "Lass, at the moment, I'm just prayin' for the damned heat to make up its mind when tae begin burnin'. A Breed can only take so much pressure, ya know."

  Laughter slipped past her lips, bringing a smile to his face. He'd known her before she and Jacob Arlington had completed their mating, when mating heat had taken its grip on the pair at a very inconvenient time, during a mission that had revealed another species of Breed. One that still caused disbelief and remained a mystery to the general population. But Styx had been there when Jacob and Faith reunited after several years apart, and he had seen not just the love, but also the fiery, dedicated hunger they shared.

  "Lass, before your havin' me believin' I should commit myself to an asylum afore mating, I believe I'll go find my almost mate and see if the wee thing is ready tae eat yet."

  Faith arched a brow, the amusement in her gaze contagious and causing the smile to linger on his lips even as he headed back to his cabin.

  Breeds were beginning to enter the courtyard slowly, all navigating first to the appetizer table and the seating spread around the courtyard that allowed for different sizes of groups to congregate.

  The lights strung in the trees would flicker on as dark began to fall soon, casting shadows among the artfully landscaped courtyard and shining down on those men and women who had never known laughter, camaraderie and joy until the past decade.

  And even now it was rife with danger.

  That danger might not end anytime soon, Styx feared as he reached the cabin. But each battle, each missing piece to the Breed puzzle brought them ever closer to the security they craved. The freedom they prayed to give their children.

  And wasn't that why any species fought? To survive? To preserve the future of their species for those they loved?

  Stepping into the cabin, Styx came to a slow stop, his senses exploding at the soft, almost-not-there scent that crossed his senses.

  It wasn't mating heat, but it was similar perhaps, at the least familiar, though he couldn't quite place it.

  It was a scent of cinnamon candy. Sweet and tinged with heat, but so subtle, so barely there, that he couldn't be certain if it was the scent of the woman or the scent of candy. Except, Styx kept chocolate in the house rather than cinnamon. Other than a hint of it in the coffee, it wasn't a sweet he bought often.

  He would be buying it more often now though. A scent that would always remind him of this.

  Storme stepped from the bedroom, her long black hair pinned to the top of her head, a small frown on her forehead, her face flushed.

  "I can't find anything wrong with the air-conditioning, but you have a problem. It got damned hot in here after you left," she told him irritably.

  It wasn't mating heat, but it was damned close. As though the slow simmer had finally heated marginally.

  Styx tilted his head and watched her intently as he drew in the scents emanating from her.

  His hardened cock and tight balls pulsed, throbbed. Shards of sensation wrapped around the sensitive shaft, tightening in the need to fuck.

  For a second, for just a second, he tasted cinnamon.

  Running his tongue over the edge of his teeth, he felt the slightest swelling. It was more than an irritation, but it wasn't quite the hormone-enflamed mating scent other Breed males had experienced.

  She propped her hands on her hips and her frown deepened as she stopped just inside the kitchen and glared at him. "Did you hear me?"

  "Aye." He cleared his throat. "I heard ye, lass."

  "Power cells are testing full, the diagnostic came up clear." She shook her head. "But it's hotter than hell."

  A fine sheen of perspiration glistened on her forehead and at her neck, and her pussy was hot. Sweet and hot and the scent of it was tinged with cinnamon.

  He should call Nikki. Hell, he'd sworn he would call Nikki the minute anything changed. That he wouldn't touch Storme, wouldn't dare be tempted to forget his promise. Nikki had threatened to neuter him if he did.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked as he watched her breathe in deeply, trying to hide it by doing it slow and easy.

  Her heart was racing though. He could see the vein pounding in her neck, almost in time to the pounding in his cock.

  Hell, he wasn't going to be able to get to a phone to call Nikki, let alone wait for her to actually get here to do whatever the hell it was she had to do.

  "You're beautiful, lass," he growled.

  He couldn't exactly tell her the truth. That the sweet, soft scent of her as she neared mating heat was driving him insane. And that was what it was. He knew it was. He could sense it. She was almost a mate. A closer "almost" than she had been before he left the cabin earlier.

  "I know that look," she muttered.

  Aye, she knew it, and she reciprocated the need pulsing through him.

  She was sweet and soft and so ready for him.

  "Take those jeans off, lass." If he had to take them off himself then he would likely end up tearing them off.

  Perhaps he should warn her what could be coming, but if the heat still hadn't progressed to the point that the mating knot emerged, then warning her could be useless, and would likely scare the hell out of her.

  Her face flushed further. Beneath the camisole top she wore her nipples puckered tighter than seconds before. The delicate, soft scent of her heat washed through the room as he inhaled deeply.

  He felt as though he could become drunk on her.

  "You're joking," she whispered breathlessly as she glanced toward the door. "I thought you had to be outside for your little get-together? Don't you have a date with Cassie or something?"

  Ahh, she hadn't forgotten, and her jealous reaction had only grown stronger at the idea of him having an evening with the charming little sprite Cassie. Not that anyone could be as charming as his wee little "near" mate.

  He'd seen her as he chased her over the past two years with that sparkle of humor, those timid smiles.

  "Not tonight." He wasn't going to argue over this and he wasn't playing this game any longer. "There's no other woman, lass, you've no reason to fear."

  He belonged to her. Not that he would tell her that at this moment. Something that he feared his lovely little "almost" mate might not be ready to hear.

  But there were other things, such as the male Wolf Breed mating knot, that there would be no way to hide.

  Her fingers moved to the metal buttons of her jean
s.

  Styx followed suit. His belt loosened. As she pushed the jeans and panties over her thighs and stepped out of them, he pulled the buttons of his own jeans free and allowed the heavy wedge of his cock to slip from the parted material.

  The camisole and tank top came over her head, leaving her gloriously, beautifully naked.

  The soft, swollen flesh of her pussy was glazed with her syrup.

  Stroking his dick, Styx grimaced at the electric sensations racing through the shaft to pierce the mushroomed crest. The middle of the shaft pulsed and throbbed, the burning presence of the unrevealed knot ached with need.

  Moving to her, Styx gripped her waist and lifted her to the open counter between the living room and the kitchen. There were going to be few preliminaries, he thought hazily. The need heating her flesh was brighter than ever, hotter. His fingers smoothed through the heavy glaze covering her pussy, the soft, rich cream heating the tips of his fingers before he tucked two in at the entrance and thrust.

  At the same moment his lips covered hers, taking the whimpering cry that fell from her mouth. And there was that taste of cinnamon. Where the hell had it come from? He could taste it, but the glands at his tongue still weren't fully swollen.

  Still, the hint of the taste of chocolate and cinnamon teased his senses as he pushed his tongue between her lips and groaned as her lips closed around it, sucking it inside.

  She would burn him alive.

  Storme moaned again as she tasted that distinctive taste of Styx. Chocolate and cinnamon. She could so easily become addicted. Hell, she was terribly afraid she was already addicted.

  She took his tongue into her mouth as she took his fingers into her pussy. Eagerly. The penetration between her thighs stroked deeper, working fully inside her with shallow thrusts as he stretched muscles that seemed too tight to accommodate him. She had never felt so feminine, so aroused. Even with Styx, who had stoked her arousal higher than any other man in her life.

  She wanted more.

  Her fingers fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, managing to release enough that she could part the material and reach the broad expanse of his hairless chest.

  She loved the tough, smooth expanse of flesh. Beneath her palms she could feel the tiny hairs, so light they were mostly invisible as she stroked his chest.

  "Don't stop," she moaned weakly as he pulled back, breaking the kiss as his fingers slid free of her pussy.

  "Never," he growled. God she loved that rough, animal sound that deepened as he grew hungrier.

  His lips moved down her neck, then to her upthrust breasts. As his lips covered a tight, hard nipple, his thumb stroked over the swollen bud of her clit. He caressed the little bundle of nerves, stroking around it, flickering against it as his tongue flicked over her nipple, his teeth raking against it.

  This was wild. Incredible.

  Storme swore she could feel hidden flames burning deep in her vagina. Flames that demanded, that burned in agony for the hard thrust of his cock.

  She didn't want foreplay.

  She wanted Styx. She wanted him inside her, stretching her, burning her. She wanted to feel the iron-hard heat of the wide crest parting her, forging within her.

  "Fuck, lass," he seemed to snarl, the brogue and the growl both heavy in his voice now. "We'll burn down the night afore it's done."

  Back arching, she moved closer.

  Wrapping her legs around his hips, Storme fought to align her hips with his, to thrust against him, to experience the burning impalement before she went crazy for it.

  "Styx, I don't know what you do to me," she moaned, her hand smoothing down his tight, hard stomach to the thick shaft beyond.

  Her fingers didn't have a hope of wrapping around it. The shaft was too wide, too heavily veined and throbbing with power.

  Stroking her fingers to the damp tip, Storme fought to pull enough of her senses together to keep from melting in a mass of pure sensation before he ever got around to fucking her.

  "I know what ye do to me." Pulling back, he lifted her to his chest and strode to the living room. "Ye make me crazy for ye, Sugar. Ye make me forget everything but the pleasure ye bring me. Come, little Storme, give me this pleasure I need. I need it until I feel I'm burnin' inside for ye."

  He moved to the couch, set her on her feet, turned her, then pressed her down until her knees hit the cushions. With his hand at the back of her shoulders, he pressed her over.

  Storme trembled. She rested her folded arms against the arm of the couch before staring back at him nervously.

  At any other time she would have protested. She would have never allowed him to take her like this, to come behind her undefended back.

  "So fuckin' pretty." His hand smoothed down her spine, then to the curve of her buttocks.

  The feel of his calloused fingertips stroking with demanding warmth sent her juices flowing from her pussy. The inner muscles pulsed and throbbed as she pressed back, so eager, so desperate to feel him thrusting inside her she could barely stand it.

  "Do it already," she demanded, her voice hoarse as his fingers slid between her thighs to test the slick wetness once again. "God, Styx, what have you done to me?"

  "Loved ye well, lass. Ah hell, I'll always love ye well."

  Did he realize what he had said? Storme felt her chest tighten, her heart aching as the swollen head of his cock pressed between the swollen folds of her sex.

  "Love me well." She couldn't believe she was demanding it. That she knew in her heart and soul that she was demanding more than the sex, more than the physical love he was always so ready to give her. "Oh God, Styx, I don't know if I can bear it."

  He pressed inside, parting her, stretching her. She felt so tight, too snug for the width of the shaft easing inside her.