Navarro's Promise

CHAPTER 2

Standing beneath the steaming hot spray of the penthouse shower and allowing it to wash away the bone-deep chill that had seeped inside her, Mica finally felt she might live rather than die from the cold.

She hated the cold. She hated winter. She hated having to feel the chill of it or to look out the window and see the snow swirling. That had made the night worse than it would have been otherwise, that bone-deep cold. She’d been terrified she would never be warm again.

With the warmth came a determination to ignore the danger she knew was also swirling outside the doors of the hotel. She closed her eyes and forced herself to slip into the darkness there, to create that wall between her and the reality of the memories that threatened to take hold.

That whole head-in-the-sand attitude never failed to make Cassie crazy when they were together.

Mica loved ignoring the fact that she didn’t have a real life. That she was always surrounded by danger, Breeds, and the realization that at any time the Breeds’ enemies could strike out at her instead of her friends.

They finally had.

A hard, rough breath shuddered through her as she pushed back the knowledge again. It was harder this time. Of course, she hadn’t faced another night quite like tonight either.

Yep, she was an ostrich. Feathers, plume, head in the sand, whole nine yards.

Well, except those long bird legs. She still had the short legs. But the rest of it. Yes indeed, just list her name with the feathered genera of the world, because she wasn’t about to open her eyes and accept reality anytime soon.

She’d just put that little thing on her to-do list for next year, maybe.

“Are you okay in there?”

Mica jumped, startled to hear his voice so close, just outside the frosted glass of the shower door.

“I’m fine. Go away.”

She needed just a few more minutes to assure herself, to convince herself she wasn’t here standing beneath the pouring hot water because she had just spent hours in the driving rain running from Breed enemies. After all, she wasn’t a Breed, right? She was as human as they came, and no one could say any different.

“Go away? Mica, my feelings might be hurt. Are you certain you don’t need your back washed? Or perhaps your front?” He was clearly amused, the exotic edge of his voice stroking over her senses.

God, she loved that little hint of an accent. Just a hint, one was never certain it was really there, but the sound of it just stroked across her senses like an erotic caress.

“You’d have to have feelings first, Navarro. And I’m able to wash my back, and my front, perfectly on my own.” A feminine sniff of disdain met his suggestion, though she could feel her heart trying to race in excitement.

This wasn’t the first time Navarro had made such a comment, but they never failed to steal her breath.

She couldn’t help it. Unlike many other Breeds, there was simply something about Navarro that she couldn’t force herself to ignore.

Or perhaps she didn’t want to ignore it. The excitement, the sense of wonder, the surge of aroused adrenaline were a pleasure in and of themselves that she seemed to be becoming addicted to.

“You’re wounding my heart, Amaya,” he drawled. “I believe I may have to come up with some punishment in retaliation.”

One of these days, she was going to ask him exactly what that word meant. She knew it was Japanese, but she hadn’t yet forced herself to learn the meaning of it. If she learned it simply meant friendship, or some kind of child, her ego might be irreparably stripped.

“As long as that punishment doesn’t include invading my shower or anything cold,” she assured him, though she could feel every cell in her body threatening to send out a scent that would attest otherwise.

“Mica, I want to see your ribs.” His voice hardened imperceptibly.

Mica’s nipples hardened.

Just that fast, the thought of him touching her ribs, so close to the swollen mounds of her breasts, and she was becoming flushed with an arousal she couldn’t hide.

Would the water cover the scent?

Heat flushed her face at the thought of being unable to hide the telling scent of an arousal so strong that even now she could feel the betraying slickness gathering between her thighs.

“I’m just sore,” she tried to assure him as her fingers glanced over the area. “Nothing’s broken, just bruised.”

She stroked the curve of her own breast, her fingertips eliciting a wave of pleasure that swept through her entire system.

She would love to have him touch her. To feel his fingers stroking over her flesh gently, his lips touching her, not just kissing her, but stroking against her flesh, covering her nipple, suckling it, licking it.

“I would rather see that for myself. We’re going to be leaving soon. I need to know the true condition of any injuries in order to know how to proceed should we run into trouble.”

Of course he did. Breeds believed in always being completely prepared, often to a level that bordered on the ridiculous. Even her father, an army Special Forces soldier, wasn’t as detailed as Breeds were without even thinking about it.

“It’s fine, Navarro.” She closed her eyes, fighting the need to have him touch her.

“I would like to see for myself that it’s simply a bruise,” he stated firmly. “When you’ve finished, I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom.”

Opening her eyes and turning her head, she watched as he left the bathroom, the shadow of his tall, leanly muscled physique easing from the doorway.

Pushing her face beneath the pouring water, she debated running cold water rather than hot, but the memory of that icy chill was still too sharp.

As aroused as he had her, still the thought of anything but warmth washing over her sent a wave of fear crashing through her mind. She was afraid the thought of icy rain would only be a fearful thing in the future now, rather than simply something to avoid as it had been before tonight.

Pushing the thought and the memory of that chill to the back of her mind, Mica finished her shower before shutting off the water and wrapping a towel around her sodden hair. Drying quickly, she pulled on a thick, ultra-soft white hotel robe and belted it loosely.

She hoped he had thought to get her more clothes; otherwise, her stay here was going to be pretty awkward, she thought, as she quickly towel dried her hair.

Running her fingers through the heavy, straight strands, she quickly used the blow-dryer to knock most of the dampness out of them. She didn’t want to feel anything cold against her flesh for a long time.

When she moved from the large, luxurious bathroom to the bedroom, she came to a slow, hesitant stop as she saw Navarro sitting on the bed, his gaze directed to the e-pad he was scrolling through as he waited on her.

His head lifted.

Eyes as dark as the black of night stared back at her silently, unblinkingly.

Mica cleared her throat as a wave of nervousness washed through her.

He’d changed clothes. Sodden black mission pants and the lightweight black shirt were gone. In their place perfectly creased, obviously pricey black jeans and a white long-sleeved cotton shirt tucked snugly into the band. A black leather belt cinched his hard waist, and on his feet he wore obviously expensive leather boots.

Never let it be said that Navarro Blaine didn’t know how to dress, and how to dress well.

His hair was pushed back from his face, falling to his nape, and the thick, heavy strands invited her fingers to explore and play.

It was as straight as her own, though thicker, heavier, the midnight color such a rich, glistening sheen it looked blue in a certain light.

“Are you finally warm?” He laid the pad aside as he rose to his feet, the primal, animal male grace he displayed nearly stealing her breath.

“Warm enough.” Tucking her hair nervously behind her ear, she tried to fight back an attraction she had no hope of defeating.

“You’ll need to take off the robe.” His gaze flickered with something, some almost hidden heat that had her heart suddenly racing between her breasts.

“I don’t think so.” There wasn’t a chance in hell she was pushing her libido that far.

Rather than removing the robe, she untied it and carefully eased it from one arm while holding the abundant remaining material over her breasts. Revealing her side, she knew why his eyes suddenly narrowed and his lips thinned.

The dark bruise, a vulgar, spreading stain from the impact of the Coyote Breed’s boot against her side, from the area beneath her arm to just below her breast. It encompassed her rib area and had already turned a vivid, ugly black, an assurance the bruising went clear to the bone.

“I can see the bruise much better if you remove the robe,” he assured her, playfulness entering his voice.

“That and much more.” She stared straight ahead and simply concentrated on trying to control the betraying dampness of her juices gathering between her thighs.

His fingertips brushed against her flesh.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re lying to me?” he murmured as he glanced back at her teasingly.

Mica rolled her eyes mockingly. “Let me guess, you smell it?”

He actually chuckled, a dark, deep sound that played across her senses with a stroke of pleasure. “You’re actually rather good at hiding it, but my sense of smell isn’t the same as other Breeds. I imagine it has something to do with the recessed genetics.”

Her brows arched. “You can’t smell things as the other Breeds do?”

“Your fear was rather sharp tonight, as was your pain . . .”

“No kidding. I should have guessed. Cassie’s dad’s sense of smell wasn’t very good either because of his recessed genetics.” There was a sense of relief so sudden she barely held it in.

She hadn’t expected recessed senses as well, though she knew she should have. Cassie’s father, Dash, had had recessed senses until he mated Cassie’s mother, Elizabeth. His sense of sight, hearing and smell had been better than normal, but they hadn’t been at Breed level.

With that knowledge came another, relieving thought.

Perhaps Navarro couldn’t sense her arousal.

He couldn’t smell the liquid heat gathering between her thighs.

This was good. This was actually much better, she thought. If he couldn’t smell it or sense it, then perhaps she could pretend it didn’t exist.

Yep, that was her, the ostrich.

“I don’t think it makes you any less effective though.” A sense of hope cheered her a little. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about every emotion, every want or need revealed to him as easily as Cassie seemed to pick it up. “And really, you don’t have to be able to smell a person’s emotions. I think it’s highly unfair that Breeds have those senses anyway.”

Perhaps, just maybe, because of that, she could defend herself against this attraction, this fascination rapidly spiraling out of control.

Navarro knew he should feel at least a shade of remorse for not completing his sentence and assuring her his sense of smell was actually more advanced, despite his recessed genetics, than most Breeds. After all, she couldn’t smell his lie as he could hers. She couldn’t smell his hunger for her, as he could smell hers. And she hungered. She was lightning hot, flaring with peaks of arousal and making him insane each time she flared.

His genetics were recessed; therefore, most humans and Breeds alike assumed his senses weren’t as heightened as other Breeds’. The opposite was actually the truth. His senses were stronger, sharper, more advanced than 90 percent of the Breeds created.

Recessed genetics, in his case, did not mean recessed senses.

They simply meant his animal genetics hadn’t yet showed up on a scan. They hadn’t found a variable yet that would pinpoint whatever slight anomaly had to be in the genetic string to identify the recessed DNA.

For now he was safe.

Other Breeds could smell nothing but his human genetics, and humans could find nothing but normal Asian-American DNA. He couldn’t hide his scent, but he could alter his scent easily. So far, he hadn’t mated a female, but he’d learned young exactly how to please them.

Still, the race to run this woman to ground and have her admit that desire seemed to be the only battle he couldn’t find a positive weapon for.

“Does it make you uncomfortable, being different among the Breeds?” she asked as her head tilted inquisitively to the side, the scent of her arousal suddenly peaking with a strength that had him clenching his back teeth. Damn her, had any woman ever grown so hot, so quickly for him?

Watching her with a bit of a crooked smile, Navarro debated for a second telling her the truth. Damn, the decision was one he simply couldn’t make.

“Doesn’t it make all of us uncomfortable sometimes? When we’re different from those around us?” he asked her. And that wasn’t a lie. He was different, far different than other Breeds, or humans.

“You’re not answering my questions, you’re just asking more,” she pointed out. “Why do you do that?”

So he wouldn’t have to lie to her.

Brushing his fingers over the bruise, his touch light as air, he probed the flesh, feeling the delicacy of it, the internal temperature of the bruise and the mottled feel of the blood beneath the skin.

It went to the bone. No doubt, the bone itself was bruised as well, but nothing was broken, merely excruciatingly tender, and with very little additional pressure, something would break in a second.

“He did a good job on you,” Navarro growled, the sound that rumbled in his throat surprising him. “Was it Loki?”

Farce’s younger brother was a hothead, despite his exceptional training in the genetics labs. Still, as Navarro heard it, Loki hadn’t been happy that his brother had been killed, and he blamed the Wolf Breeds for the death.

Mica shook her head as she slowly drew the robe back on and held it together rather than belting it. “I haven’t seen Loki. No, it was Marx. And he wasn’t happy.”

Navarro nodded shortly, when he wanted nothing more than to snarl in rage. He would kill Marx himself for that bruise, and the scent of pain mixed with the scent of wounded flesh, once he got his hands on him. Truth be told though, there were a lot of Breeds eager to get their hands on the Coyote Breed.

Hatred was an emotion he tried to never feel. Strong emotion denoted even stronger trouble. What he was beginning to feel for this woman would have been worrisome if it weren’t for the fact that he had shown none of the signs of mating heat after kissing her weeks before.

She paced, or rather walked gingerly, to the other side of the room before turning to face him once again. “Is there another bed?” She gestured to the bed he stood beside.

“Sorry, baby, this is it.” He grinned back at her. “But don’t worry, we shouldn’t be here long. Jonas and Stygian are working on a route out of the city straight to Sanctuary. There, we’ll have a heli-jet arriving to take us to Haven.”

“The heli-jet can’t come after us now?”

“They’re all on a mission, including Jonas,” he answered in an unconcerned voice. “Don’t worry, Mica, you’ll be protected. Didn’t I promise you I’d keep you from harm?”

Mica felt her heart crash in her chest. A quick, hard bounce of emotion that flooded her body with sensitivity and tightened her throat with the strength of it.

“You promised.” It was all she could do to whisper the words as the memory of that night washed over her.

Staring back at him, her lips parted, the memory of that kiss sent a wash of furious need shuddering through her.

“You remember that kiss.” His voice dropped to a rough rasp, the black of his eyes growing impossibly darker. “You’ve distanced yourself from it. Why?”

Mica inhaled sharply. “You don’t mince words, do you?”

To retreat as he paced closer would have been the same as admitting fear. She’d learned in the years she had been raised around Breeds to never show fear.

It wasn’t fear, though. Trepidation maybe.

He stepped closer, his broad chest nearly touching her breasts where the robe covered them. It made her want to breathe deeper, to draw in enough oxygen to clear her senses, enough to make the material covering her breasts press against the hard, muscular contours of his chest as his hand cupped her cheek, his thumb finding the curves of her lips.

Mica froze. Standing still beneath his touch, she felt the rasp of the calloused pad of his thumb against her sensitive lips.

“Silk or satin?” His voice was a hard, graveled tone. “There wasn’t enough time to determine before.”

“There was enough time for you to shove your tongue in my mouth.” She wanted to cap her hand over her mouth, to hold back the words that had already slipped past.

She could feel a flush of embarrassment, a sense of mortification rolling through her. But not enough to pull back or to break his touch.

“Ah now, that sweet tongue is another story. Definitely velvet and silk. Just enough rasp to tempt a man’s imagination.” His voice dropped as a wash of sexual intent seemed to spread over his expression. “Or a Breed’s libido.”

Weakness flooded her limbs, a sensual, highly sexual weakness that threatened to steal even her ability to breathe. The heated flood of her juices spilled along the inner walls of her sex, lubricating her, preparing her for him.

For a Wolf Breed. A man whose humanity was so closely related to the animal whose genetics he shared that one day, one woman would become more than his soul.

One day, he would find his mate.

And nature had proven she wasn’t his mate.

She tried to remind herself there was no future here, with this man, this Breed. As his thumb pressed against her lips, parting them, the memory of that fact seemed hazier by the second.

Pleasure swirled through her system, heating her, drawing her deeper into a chaotic world of sensations.

“Please, Navarro.” Finding the strength to deny what she sensed awaited her was harder than she had ever imagined it would be. “I know what you are. I know what mating heat is. I know what I will never be to you, and it isn’t fair to tempt me to care for you.”

She wasn’t going to love him. She couldn’t allow herself to love him, but she knew it wouldn’t take much, it would take very little to cause her to lose every part of her woman’s soul to him.

“The world was exploding around us and all I could do was taste you,” he growled, his voice rough. “My pack leader could have been in danger, only my mate’s safety can supersede his. I never gave him a thought. All I could focus on was your kiss. My genetics are recessed, Mica. Perhaps so recessed that I’ll never know what mating is. But I’ll be damned if I can walk away from the pleasure I know awaits in your kiss.”

Mica stared back at him in shock. A Breed was judged by his loyalty to his mate first. With no mate, he was then judged by his loyalty to his pack, and/or his pack leader, as the two were considered interwoven.

To know he had ignored that basic rule, one that seemed almost genetically coded into the Breeds, for a single kiss, was almost more than she could believe. It was considered worse than a crime in the Breed world, a taboo he had committed for a woman that was not a mate.

He hadn’t raced to his pack leader’s side to ensure his safety as well as the safety of the leader’s mate, the one person whose death would destroy his pack leader and thereby possibly weaken the pack as a whole. And he had done this for a woman he wasn’t mated to.

Lips parted, her breathing shallow, Mica stared up at him as he dragged his thumb back from her lips and lowered his head.

It was coming. She could feel it beginning to burn the air around her. She knew what his kiss felt like. What it tasted like. Just that little hint of honey.

His lips brushed against her. A heated rasp of sensation, a precursor to an exquisite pleasure that she knew would capture all her senses.

She felt snagged, bound, unable to fight the pleasure as his lips brushed against hers.

It was insane. She could feel the cautious, wary part of her mind screaming in denial. She should be fighting. She should be pushing away from him. It wasn’t as though it could go anywhere, despite his excuses to the contrary where a lack of mating heat was concerned.

She wasn’t his mate.

But she could be his lover.

She could experience what she knew for a fact no other female at Haven had experienced. She could be the woman to share his bed. If only for tonight.

His tongue brushed against her lips, probing, easing against the narrow part as he sipped at them, easing her slowly into the exquisite sensations building between them. That subtle hint of honey teased at her senses as he slipped past, his tongue licking against hers.

Mating heat was often described as a taste of cinnamon, or spice. Sometimes it had been referred to as the taste of a summer storm. She’d never heard it described as anything more, even among the Feline Breeds.

This wasn’t cinnamon, spice, or a warm rain. It was all male, dark and filled with pleasure. It didn’t taste any different than any other kiss she’d ever had, except for that tease of sweetness.

And it was drawing her in.

Her hands flattened against his chest, above the silk of his shirt, before pushing slowly upward, easing around his neck before pushing into the heavy strands of silken hair and holding on tight.

She needed.

She’d ached for him in the past weeks until she’d felt as though she would go insane from the need.

Fantasies kept her distracted. Sleeplessness plagued her.

For this.

A low, throttled moan escaped her throat, where she’d hoped to keep it trapped.

As she arched closer, his arm eased around her unbruised side as his lips and tongue tasted and teased her with unbridled hunger.

The reserve he kept wrapped around himself was easing, breaking away as the fingers of his other hand moved to the front tie of the robe she wore and loosened it easily.

The edges of the thick, soft cloth fell apart, allowing a wash of cool air to ease across her overheated flesh.

A whimpering cry of pleasure filled the air around them as his hand flatted against her belly and with exquisite gentleness began to caress up her torso, until it curved beneath the swollen mound of her breast.

The kiss intensified, growing in heat and in pleasure as the pad of his thumb stroked over the tight, hard bud of her nipple.

Mica jerked her head back, desperate to breathe now, to think, just for a moment.

But he had no intentions of allowing her to find her common sense once again.

Navarro took the opportunity to lower his head to her breast, to swipe his tongue over the painfully sensitive bud.

She hadn’t noticed the rough rasp of his tongue as he kissed her. Not this time, not the time before. But as he licked her nipple like a favored treat, she felt it.

Not as rough as a cat’s tongue, just a hint of an unusual raspiness over the painfully hard tip that had the hunger for more suddenly tearing through her.

“Navarro. Again.” She wanted that lick. She wanted the feel of that roughness against her nipple one more time.

He licked again. Slow, easy, his tongue rubbing against the nerve-laden flesh as the muscles in her stomach tightened and her clit began to throb furiously.

As she arched against his mouth, the press of the steel-hard contour of his thigh inserting itself caused her teeth to clench.

To hold back the pleas.

She wanted to beg him to suck her nipple.

God, would begging help? Would he just do it then? Just part his lips and suck her inside . . .

“Oh yes.” The hiss should have shocked her. She was certain it would later, once the cold light of day and reality intruded upon her once again.

For now, there was only the most exquisite pleasure in the world.

Looking down, she watched. She couldn’t help but watch. His black eyes stared up at her, narrowed and glittering with sexual heat as his lips parted and covered the small bud.

A shudder rippled through her body as her fingers clenched in his hair tighter, holding him to her as his tongue swiped over the tip and he began to suck.

“Navarro. Oh God. Yes. Suck me. Suck me harder.”

Where had those desperate words come from? The plea, filled with desperation, couldn’t have been more shocking. But still, it wasn’t shocking enough to pull her out of the heated maelstrom she was being drawn into. A vortex of incredible rapture she was loath to lose.

She couldn’t lose it. She wanted more and more.

The feel of his tongue stroking over her nipple with quick little licks had sharp flares of sensation shooting to her womb. His thigh pressed harder against the swollen flesh of her pussy, the hard muscle clenching, the tiny flex against her clit spiking the pleasure rushing through her.

More. She just wanted more.

A throttled groan rasped in his chest as she felt his hand stroking from the curve of her breast to her hip. Sucking her nipple deeper, harder, lighting flares of explosive through each nerve ending, he let his fingers caress from her hip to her thigh.

Mica froze. She could feel it. The threat of a growing, out-of-control rush of sensations began to build inside her.

She could feel it. It was an unending crash and surge of pleasure so intense there was no hope of escaping. No hope of wanting to escape.

Hell no, she wanted more.

“No. Don’t stop.” She jerked in his arms as his head lifted, his expression so sexually tight now that she wondered why she wasn’t feeling fear.

She should be damned scared. She should be fighting tooth and nail to make herself jerk out of his embrace.

She didn’t want a broken heart.

She didn’t need a broken heart.

“Navarro.” She moaned his name again as she felt his hand stroke to her thigh, his fingertips, calloused and heated, caressing over her sensitive flesh as his hand drew closer to the saturated folds of her pussy.

Oh God, she was so wet. She could feel the slick wetness beginning to spread to her inner thighs.

Slick. Hot.

And if he didn’t touch her soon, if he didn’t do something, anything to ease the ache, then she just might not be able to survive it.