Styx's Storm

CHAPTER 7

Hope Bainesmith Gunnar.

Storme remembered the young woman who had befriended her more than ten years before. Storme had been ten, Hope was now thirty years old. She didn't look thirty. She looked no different now than she had looked when she had been at the Omega compound and watched the Wolf Breeds as though searching for a familiar face, or a way to escape.

Or perhaps even both.

Storme remembered the day the news reports hit of the Wolf Breeds being granted the land in Colorado in recompense for America's part in funding the Genetics Council. She hadn't heard of the Wolf Breed alpha before then, but when a picture had flashed of Wolfe Gunnar and his new bride, the daughter of a Council scientist, Storme had felt her stomach clench in despair and fear for the young woman she had once looked up to.

Over the years, she had feared for Hope, worried for her, terrified she was locked in a marriage she couldn't have possibly wanted.

Yet the Hope she had seen when she arrived at Haven three days before wasn't a woman stuck in a relationship she didn't want. The woman she watched in the huge courtyard that was the center of the block of homes wasn't a woman unhappy with her life or with her husband.

Hope Bainesmith Gunnar was a woman well content with the life and the creature she seemed to love.

Standing at the back door now as dusk moved slowly over the mountain, arms crossed, a frown on her face, she watched as Hope played with an infant from the home next door.

The child belonged to Aiden and Charity Chance. Aiden was head of security at Haven if she remembered correctly. The two-story cabin to the right of the Gunnars' was the Chance home. There was nothing ostentatious or elite about the home, despite the hierarchical place the Chances held within the pack at Haven.

Like the Gunnar home, and the home belonging to Jacob and Faith Arlington to the left of it, it was two stories, a log cabin-style home that blended well with the trees that grew both in front of it and within the courtyard behind it.

Lights hung from the trees to create soft, effective lighting in the central yard. Each of the twenty or so homes was built far enough apart for privacy inside, but opened into the central design to allow for full socialization.

Wolves were far more social than the Felines, she had heard; in that case, it seemed that propaganda in favor of the Breeds was true.

Now, as the lights brightened the area between Styx's home and those across from it, she watched as those who lived within this centralized grouping came together.

Wolfe and Hope had come out first, followed by the Chances and the Arlingtons.

Charity Chance had walked beside her tall, dark husband, Aiden, as he carried their infant snuggly against his broad chest. They had joined Hope and Wolfe in one of the gathering spots outfitted with comfortable outdoor furnishings, a fire pit and grill and an attractive overhead covering that blended with the branches of the trees above in case of rain.

Jacob and Faith Arlington had followed. They carried food. Jacob with his dark coloring and the light auburn highlights to his hair had once been a part of several teams of Breeds sent out to locate hidden Council labs. He had been instrumental in locating and rescuing the rare, mysterious winged Breeds. His wife, Faith, liaison to the various packs and prides that were still spread out over the world, most in hiding, was tall and sleek, her long dark hair falling beneath her shoulders.

She stood next to her husband at the grill, laughing, seeming to bask in what appeared to be the pure adoration that filled her husband's face.

The three Breeds stared at their wives as though there was nothing on the Earth that could compare to them.

How could that be true? It was a far different picture than those of blood and atrocities practiced within the Breed communities, pictures that the pure blood societies circulated.

As food went on the grill, others began to arrive, until the area soon held more than two dozen Breeds and a few humans. There were a few American soldiers and technical support people who worked within Haven. But it was the Breeds she watched.

Many of them sat on the outer perimeter of the impromptu party, watching, chatting, slowly warming to the laughter and camaraderie that seemed to exist. She didn't know how long she stood there watching, but as she watched, others slowly moved closer and became a part of the laughter-filled group.

She had been there three days, and each evening she had stood here watching as the residents of Haven flowed in and out, moving within the acceptance their alpha gave so freely.

"You could be a part of it."

Storme swung around at the soft growl of Styx's voice behind her.

Dropping her arms, she tucked her hands into the pockets of her borrowed jeans and glared back at him.

"Just bring back some food if you don't mind." The smells alone were enough to tempt her to slip into the crowd of sharp-toothed creatures that still held the power to terrify her.

His eyes narrowed.

Each time he made the offer that she could accompany him, and each time she refused.

"You could make an effort to get to know us," he pointed out, his voice sharp.

Storme shrugged. "I just want the food, Styx, I don't want to become the meal."

A muscle at his jaw flexed sharply as she lifted her chin, defying him to retaliate. Storme had learned early on that she wasn't the cowering type, just as she had learned that often her smart-ass perseverance provided the distraction needed for a Coyote or Council soldier to drop his guard. She'd escaped many times using such a strategy.

And though she realized it wasn't going to work here, still, it was such an ingrained habit that it was almost natural. What wasn't natural though was the small pinprick of guilt this time.

"Do you think I'll allow you to get away with this much longer?" His head tilted to the side, the long strands of wicked red hair falling around the dark, savagely hewn features like a heavy curtain of flames.

Damn, he was too attractive, but then, all Breeds, male and female, were designed to create the image of sexual allure. There were no plain Breeds.

"I try really hard not to think period while I'm here," she informed him tightly. "If I actually allow myself to think, then I may lose my sanity in the bargain. This isn't exactly my idea of a vacation getaway, Wolf."

Irritation at the name flared in his eyes and pricked at her conscience. She couldn't understand why she felt that flare of guilt though. So what if she managed to strike a tender spot. The Breed who had killed her brother hadn't cared how tender James's neck had been when he sliced it open with his teeth. Nor would these Breeds, supposedly more honorable, lose a moment's sleep over ripping her throat out if they thought she had betrayed them.

"Storme, you're creating a situation for yourself that you may not want to step into so easily," he warned her, his tone darkening. "I'd suggest watching that mouth if I were you."

A sharp, mocking laugh leapt to her lips. "Yeah, I'll get right on that, Wolf. While I'm doing that, why don't you fetch us some food?"

Perhaps she should have heeded his advice. Or left off the word fetch. Either one would have likely worked, she thought, as his hands suddenly gripped her shoulders and jerked her around to him, and his head lowered. He shut her up more effectively than if he had possessed a mute button on a remote control designed just for her.

He kissed her.

He stole her strength, her courage and her ability to protest by the simple act of possessing her lips.

Or maybe this was what she was attempting to find again, rather than face his ire.

His lips covering hers, the feel of his kiss, powerful and dominant as it stroked across her senses and brought to life the dreams she'd had in the past nights of those stolen hours they'd shared. Hours spent in the grip of a heated lust so impossible to deny that she had actually allowed a Wolf Breed to take her.

There was something more there than lust though. As his arms surrounded her, pulling her close to the harder, broader length of his body, she felt that something more wrapping around her.

A warmth, a heated emotion she didn't want to examine or know the cause of. Because looking too deeply into it could undermine everything she had ever believed in, everything she had fought for.

She wanted to live for this moment, for this kiss and the feel of his hands pushing beneath the loose T-shirt she wore, to caress her naked skin. The feel of his palms, roughened and calloused, stroking against her flesh even as he pulled her closer.

He kissed her with heated demand, ate at her lips with a male hunger that struck straight to the heart of the feminine heat building inside her.

The sensual side of her had never been pulled free the way Styx drew it from her. He opened a door inside her that she had never known existed. A part of her that she wished would lie dormant once again rather than awakening for a man she knew she could never truly have.

Except for this moment.

Burying her hands in his hair, she gripped the coarse strands, holding on to them as one hand curled beneath her bottom to lift her to him and the other cupped the side of her swollen, unbound breast. Using the hand at her rear for leverage, Storme lifted her knees to grip his hips and allowed the heavy, hard ridge of his cock to ride against the sensitive mound of her pussy through the thin summer denim she wore.

It was exquisite. Pleasure seared the swollen bud of her clit beneath the borrowed jeans and dampened the sensitive folds of her pussy as a feeling of lush sensuality overcame her.

"I can smell your heat," he groaned against her lips. "Like a soft spring rain, damp and sweet as it washes over me."

Her head fell back as his teeth raked along her neck. There should have been fear, and she couldn't quite figure out why there wasn't. Why didn't the horrifying image of her brother's death haunt her when he nipped at her neck and raked his teeth along the sensitive flesh?

She couldn't figure it out; all she knew was that rather than visions of pain, what she saw was an explosion of light and color behind her closed eyelids, as pleasure flooded her body.

As her knees gripped his hips, she was aware of him walking, moving, until he reached the living room and she felt the smooth, butter-soft leather of the couch beneath her back.

Her knees still gripped his hips, her hands still burrowed in his hair, as his lips moved back to hers. A little nip of his teeth and she opened to him, her tongue meeting his, licking, taking, exhilarating in the rush of sensations that came from it.

That subtle taste of cinnamon and chocolate met her taste buds and had her moaning at the sheer decadence of it. His tongue was heated and warm, licking against hers, spreading the taste of his kiss, teasing her until she surrounded it and fought to hold it in her mouth, sucking at it with greedy draws of her lips as he pumped it between her lips.

God, it was so good. She couldn't stand it, she wondered if she would ever be able to live without the regret of losing the pleasure, the taste and the feel of him once this was over and she left Haven.

Stretching beneath him, Storme felt the moan that vibrated in her own chest, a human counterpoint to the half-animal growl of pleasure that came from his.

Pressing her heel into the leather of the couch, she arched to him, breasts and hips pressing into him as her head fell back, giving him leave to caress the fragile line of her throat.

The material of her T-shirt eased up her torso. Releasing his hair, Storme stretched her arms over her head, allowing him to peel the shirt from her before he tossed it away and jerked his own over his head.

Opening her lashes, Storme stared up at the warrior poised above her. With the long red hair, the ocean blue eyes and the tough, hard contours of his chest and muscled biceps, he could have been a warrior of centuries past. A seductive, dominant warrior determined to possess.

Rising, moving back with one knee in the couch, the other on the floor, he trailed his fingers down her stomach to the snap of her jeans.

Within seconds they were both naked and Storme was reaching for him with all the desperate need for the warmth that was so much a part of him.

"Not yet," he growled, pushing her hands back as he spread her thighs and gazed down at the bare folds of her pussy. "I've dreamed of tasting you, Storme. Of licking that silken bare pussy like the precious treat I know it's going to be."

Her womb clenched in response, a punch of sensation vibrating through it as lust speared straight to the heart of her sex. Beneath his darkening gaze she felt the folds heat, become plumper as her clit swelled with responsive need.

"Touch yourself for me, lass," he whispered, his gaze flicking to hers before lowering once again between her thighs. "Let me see the pleasure you can give yourself first. Tease me, lass, until I'm ready to burn alive for ye."

She nearly lost her breath; definitely she was losing her senses. As Styx moved to kneel on the floor beside her, her fingers slipped down her stomach to the wet heat of her sex.

Never had she felt so sensual, so sexual. There was something about that wicked challenge in his gaze that called out to the temptress she'd always wondered if she could be.

Her breath caught as she circled her clit slowly and Styx's chest rumbled with a low vibration of pleasure. With one hand he gripped the hard, flushed shaft of his cock as he pressed her thighs farther apart with the other.

The bare folds beneath her fingers parted as the slick juices of her arousal clung to her fingers. The feel of her own fingers stroking the sensitive, intimate flesh rarely brought her to release. But as he watched, his gaze darker, his expression tight, she felt the pleasure beginning to burn along her flesh and settle in the sensitive tissue of her pussy.

Her touch moved to her clit as he parted the intimate folds with his fingers, parting her, sending swift flares of desperate heat exploding through her pussy and traveling through her body as he watched her caress herself.

"There, love," he crooned. "Stroke your pretty clit, show me your pleasure as I feel it trembling through you."

Her head twisted on the leather cushions as her hips arched, driving the penetration deeper. She wanted him inside her, wanted him filling her. Moving against her clit, her fingers elicited exquisite pleasure. Opening her eyes, she gazed back at him, a whimpering sound of agonizing need passing her lips.

"Tell me what you need, lass," he crooned as his fingers parted the swollen lips and caressed the edges of the clenched opening with firm, sensual strokes.

"You know what I need," she gasped, fighting to breathe as the hunger for it struck at her womb, clenching it almost violently.

"Nay, lass, not unless you tell me," he urged her, his voice tight, deep and rough. "Tell me, little Storme. Tell me what you need."

"Oh God!" She couldn't handle it. She needed it so bad it was like an addiction. "Fuck me, Styx."

"Ah, lass, then I'll no' be able to watch you stroke your wee clit. Soon, I promise."

She shook her head desperately as he rubbed the snug entrance to her pussy, playing with it, stroking it as she arched closer, tried to force his fingers inside her.

"Is there not something I can do for you instead, love?"

She stared back at him, her tongue running over her lips as she gathered her courage.

"Fuck me, Styx," she moaned again. "With your fingers." Sensation speared her clit as she stroked it, as she spoke the need tearing through her. "Fill me. Please, please fill me."

A cry tore from her. Her hips jerked, arching high as one finger thrust deep and hard inside the sensitive muscles, parting them with a swift, fiery thrust of pure pleasure.

She was burning out of control.

As her fingers moved over her clit, stroking against the side of the tender bud, and her thighs spread wider, she gasped, "More. Styx, please. Please more."

She needed that stretching burn. She needed the extremity of the pleasure-pain she knew he could give her.

Shards of heat pierced her vagina, wrapped around her clit and sent the heated dampness of her arousal to coat his fingers as her hips writhed beneath their combined touch.

She wanted to beg, but she could barely breathe for the need. She wanted to scream at him . . .

"Do it," she groaned roughly. "Please, Styx. More."

The next thrust was brutally hot, filling her, giving her a small measure of that pure heat she was begging for as two fingers surged inside her.

"Oh God, yes!" Her fingers moved faster, harder against the tender bud of her clit as she felt waves of impending release beginning to rise inside her.

She was so close. She could feel the hard nub of her clit throbbing in need, the aching demand for orgasm tearing through her as she whimpered in distress.

Never had she been so close yet found it so difficult to find release. Eyes closed, lips parted, she moved her fingers over the ultra-sensitive bud of nerves as a moan of desperation slipped past her lips.

She couldn't do it.

Breathing hard, each uneven gasp a battle to draw in air, Storme fought to find release. It hovered just out of reach, a temptation, a promise of lightning-swift, brutal pleasure, if she could just push herself over the edge.

"Styx!" Her hips churned, thrusting up into each impalement of his fingers as she felt tears filling her eyes.

Each stroke inside her only built the agony higher.

"Please. Please, Styx ..." Her head tossed as her fingers fought to move faster, harder, against her clit. "I can't." Harsh and broken, the sound of her voice would have shocked her if she'd had the sense to understand the desperation in it. "Please. Please make me come ..."

Staring up at him, she tried to find her way past whatever held that final pleasure back. Each thrust of his fingers, each stroke of her own built the sensations until she felt as though she could barely breathe. Until nothing mattered, not even a breath, except the waves of ecstasy building inside her.

Staring up at him, lips parted, she whispered, "Please, please make me come."

A growl tore from his chest, and a second later he brushed her fingers aside only to replace her touch with the heated warmth and suckling pressure of his lips.

His tongue flicked with fiery heat over the tight bud of her clit, stroked, licked, and within seconds threw Storme into a release that had her fighting back a scream of pure rapture.

Arching, her thighs tight, tremors racing over her body she felt the fiery explosions tearing through her as he rose over her with a hungry groan.

Before the last shudders of completion raced through her, the feel of the broad, hot head of his cock pressed between the slick folds of her pussy and began a firm, demanding rocking motion that stretched her flesh and buried him, inch by inch, inside the trembling muscles as they tightened and gripped the hardened flesh.

She felt the spurt of heated pre-cum, and fought against that nagging little voice in the back of her mind that warned her something wasn't normal. But hard on the heels of the warmth filling her, the pleasure intensified.

Heat rose inside her pussy, inundating the gripping flesh with ripples of sensation as it relaxed marginally, taking the iron-hard, wide cock with an exciting pleasure-pain.

Her hands gripped his biceps, her nails biting into the tough skin as he worked the hot shaft inside her, the spurts of pre-cum sensitizing her with each blast inside her pussy as the additional sensations sparked a wildfire of lust that rapidly burned out of control.

Ecstasy surged through her. The feel of his cock stretching her to her furthest limits, burning her with pleasure-pain, tore a whimpering cry from her lips.

She was burning for him. Aching for more. Destroying herself with a need for a man she knew she couldn't keep.

Styx clenched his teeth and fought against the ever rising tide of pure, naked hunger unlike anything he had known before. The clench of her pussy around the agonizingly tight flesh of his dick was agony and ecstasy. The rippling of those muscles stroked and caressed, clenched on the sensitive crest and sent brutal fingers of sensation tearing through the shaft, his balls, then up his spine.

God help him, pleasure had never been so intense. It bordered on pain it was so overwhelming.

Beneath him, Storme arched closer, her legs lifting, knees gripping his hips as he stroked deeper inside her, lodging to the hilt and feeling his balls tighten in impending release.

Beneath the agonizingly tight flesh of his cock he could feel the pulse of the unique Breed mating physiology tightening, yet refusing to emerge. The knot was supposed to be a mating pleasure and was usually accompanied by the heated spurts of a pre-cum lubrication that eased the female muscles and sensitized them further.

Yet that response to his mate was held back. It pulsed and ached to be released, but refused to swell in response to the release building in his balls.

Never in his life had he wanted anything as he wanted to fill her, to experience that mating heat and bonding that came when two mates were locked together, unable to separate, pulsing in a pleasure they couldn't deny.

Moving against her, he clenched his teeth as he stroked inside her, harder, faster. The knot should emerge with release. Perhaps this time. If he fucked her past her release, held back as long as possible, gave in to the need to lock his teeth at her shoulder as he filled her with his come, then maybe the mating knot would emerge. Maybe the agony of the need would ease.

Pumping harder, his breathing harsh as he scented the impending release of his mate arching and crying beneath him, Styx felt her pussy tightening further, growing hotter, rippling, shuddering until she jerked in his arms and he felt the spill of her juices along the painful hardness of his dick.

There. His teeth locked in her shoulder as he felt her explosion rock her body again. Right there. God, he couldn't hold on any longer. He was losing his mind, losing his control.

His release spurted hard and with a blaze of ecstasy from the head of his cock, filling her, sending a surge of fiery heat racing through his body.

But the completion fell short of the need. His cock jerked and throbbed, semen spilling into her as pleasure raked across his nerve endings. But still, that something was missing. The ache of the throb in the center of his shaft refused to abate, refuse to allow him to forget that for some reason, he couldn't mate his mate.

As night spread a black velvet cloak over the mountains, the fog lifting from the cool mountain lake to create a froth of mystery around the small community of Haven, Styx made his way to the base of the mountain and the cabin that sat close to the entrance of the Breed scientific facility. Trailing fingers of the shifting moisture eased into the trees, wrapped around them like a lover and created a sense of comfort as Styx moved along the path that led away from the main block of homes to the home of Dr. Nikki Armani.

The door was open, soft light spilling from the kitchen as Dr. Armani sat at the kitchen table surrounded by stacks and piles of hard copy files that had been taken from various labs during the Breed rescues.

The human doctor had worked with Breeds since she was barely more than a girl. A genius in genetic sequencing and the complications of merging human and animal DNA, she was considered a treasure by the Council, and the Wolf Breeds' only hope to understand their own unique DNA and the phenomenon of mating heat.

Unlike Feline Breeds, Wolf Breed mates rarely conceived. There were few children to compensate for the dangers of mating heat and the cost of hiding the decrease in aging that came with it.

"Styx?" She looked up, the darkened features of her face tightening in concern as she rose to her feet. "Is everything okay?"

Hell no, it wasn't.

"It's getting worse." He cleared his throat, uncertain how to actually voice the fact that he still couldn't seem to mate his mate.

"Come in, I'll fix a cup of decaf coffee and I'll tell you what I've been working on"

"No coffee, Nikki." He shook his head as he paused at the entrance to the kitchen. "You have to tell me what the hell is going on here before this need makes me insane."

She stared back at him as she stood at the table for long moments. Finally, she nodded slowly. "Have the symptoms grown worse yet? The tests we've done show compatibility for mate, and there are minute quantities of the mating hormone in your saliva and semen. It should have progressed by now."

"The glands beneath my tongue have gone from an itch to a damned ache, but they haven't swollen. I've a damned hard-on that's driving me fucking insane, and the pressure of the mating knot that never emerges during sex," he stated as she frowned back at him. "Nikki, this is wearing at my control here. It's all I can do not to lose my mind when I'm with her. Hell, I can barely think long enough to get our damned clothes off."

Hell, this was harder than he had thought it would be. He didn't want to stand here and state his continued failure to claim his mate to anyone, let alone the Breed scientist in charge of figuring out why there would be a failure to begin with.

"The glands ache?" She rubbed at her ear, a gesture that bespoke her confusion. "That's not common. The glands normally swell. Does she have any symptoms?"

"A few." Pushing his hands wearily through his hair, he breathed out roughly. "The faintest scent of chocolate and cinnamon. Tonight, there was a subtle scent of heat, but it receded before she found her release."

"Abstaining as I suggested didn't work then? Nor did it make the need greater?" she asked.

"For me." He grimaced. "She doesn't refuse me, but damn, Nikki," he growled, "I can all but hear her cursing because the pleasure is more than she wants to reject. She wants me, but I feel she hates the fact that she does."

No matter how hard he'd tried, he couldn't quiet the need to take her, to come, to pump inside her until maybe he could force that final satisfaction free.

Tonight though, as she'd turned her back to him and wrapped her arms around herself, he'd wondered if she was lying there flaying herself for giving in to the hunger.

She hadn't cried, there had been no scent of pain, but what he had sensed, a dark, confused emotion, had tightened his chest with the need to ease her.

Nikki crossed her arms over her breasts, rather as he had seen Storme do when she was trying to figure something out, or when she was considering her next smart-assed crack.

"How far has intimacy gone?" she finally asked.

"As far as it can go," he growled, deciding to jump in rather than ease in painfully. "The glands ache as though they're blocked. My flesh is sensitive, like a slight tingle beneath the skin. The need for her is always present, but not painful, and I can feel the knot forming, but it never emerges. As far as I can tell, she has none of the symptoms."

Nikki blinked back at him in disbelief, and he was damned if he could blame her. He was confused as hell himself.

Pushing his fingers through his hair again, he blew out another hard, rough breath. "I don't know what the hell is going on, Nikki, but I know Jonas. He's making threats to go before the Breed Cabinet to place her under Breed Law. He's determined to force her to give up any information she has, and I can't allow him to take her. You have to prove the mating compatibility if nothing else."

Disbelief still filled her face.

"Proving compatibility isn't a problem, Styx, but none of this makes sense. According to the tests I've conducted, both of you should be in full mating heat." She shook her head. "You can't almost mate your mate."

"Then explain it," he snarled, feeling the imperative demand of the Wolf howling inside him. "She's mine, Nikki, I know she is. The animal senses it, but mating heat is just out of reach. Explain to me what the hell is going on before it makes me insane."

He had tried staying away from her. He had considered attempting to find another lover, but the thought of that brought nothing but distaste. He was spending the better part of his time trying to figure out how to block Jonas rather than figuring out what the hell was going on with his own body. Not that he had any answers there either.

"Hell," she finally breathed out roughly as she stared at the files piled around her. "I've gone through every file I have of experiments done in the labs for the phenomenon they called feral fever as well as mating fever. The only references I can find to anything like this are regarding some of the highest trained assassins, as well as a deep cover operative the Council used as a glorified prostitute. In each case, the Breeds were in positions where the mating heat would have risked the mate, or even those they were responsible for in the labs."

"A subconscious blocking of the heat then?" he mused thoughtfully. It was something he hadn't considered.

"This is going to be a hell of a mess, Styx," she said and sighed as she stared back at the stacks of files then turned back to him with a grimace. "I can prove compatibility, I can prove the mating hormone in your system, but only in minute quantities. I don't know if it's going to be enough to block Jonas if he calls to have her brought up on charges through Breed Law."

"Consider it a challenge," he growled. "I don't care what you have to do, Nikki, but if you don't help me here then I'm going to end up coming under Breed Law myself. I'll run with her. I won't let him take her from me."

That admission hadn't been easy to make. Styx took his oath of loyalty to the Breeds, to Wolfe and to the Bureau, which he had sworn when he accepted the position of Enforcer, very seriously. The thought of breaking that oath filled him with pain, with a sense of loss.

Haven, the community Wolfe had built here was his family, was his home. Leaving it would never be done easily, but for his mate he would do so gladly. To protect his mate, he would break any vow, betray any oath that endangered her.

"One of these days someone is going to kill Jonas Wyatt and most likely give his mate a lifetime of peace," Nikki finally grunted as she propped one hand on her hip and rubbed at her jaw with the fingers of the other. "So we have to find a way to block Jonas while we work out the reasons why your Wolf is holding back."

Styx narrowed his eyes back at her. "My Wolf isn't holding back, Nikki. If anything, it's fighting for dominance. It's not my Breed genetics hesitating. I suspect it's Storme. My Wolf won't allow her to be forced. Perhaps at this moment mating heat is something she wouldn't be able to balance with the conflict her emotions are building inside her."

She nodded slowly, though her expression was one of pure confusion. The same confusion filling him.

"That could be possible, though I haven't been able to draw a conclusion based on the tests so far. When I take more samples in the morning, perhaps, if, as you say, you've detected the mating scent lately, they'll show more."

Styx shook his head. "Figure something out, Nikki. The hunger is raging inside me. I swear, it feels like a fever that's only growing more severe. If something doesn't give soon, then once it breaks loose I may not be able to control the more animalistic side fighting to be free."

The side that would terrify his mate. A hunger that wouldn't be relieved, a possession she might not understand, and might never forgive him for.

Dominance was a Breed trait, but Wolf Breeds in particular had it in double measure. Even Coyotes didn't have the same intense, burning need for dominance over their mates that Wolf Breeds did. A dominance that came out sexually, and often, when challenged, coalesced in a powerful need to force submission from their mates. When a mate endangered her own life, or the mating, then the animal genetics kicked in with a punch and turned into a burning hunger for an act that would imprint the Wolf's dominance on his mate's subconscious.

It wasn't something Styx liked to admit to, that the Wolf he was bred from could become so overwhelming. Hell, he'd never had it happen before, and he wasn't certain how to handle it now.

All he knew was that something had to be done.

"Let me get more samples from you tonight, then I'll see what they show in the morning as well." Nikki turned and rushed to a storage room at the side of the kitchen. She returned moments later with the heavy black bag she carried with her whenever leaving her cabin.

Setting the bag on the table, she opened it and lifted two sealed sample cups from inside. "Urine and semen." She pressed the sterilized cups into his hand. "We'll get blood and saliva when you get back."

She turned from him as he stared at the plastic cups with a sense of resignation. He could feel his bachelorhood draining from his body, but rather than the weakness he had thought he would feel, he could only feel a sense of impending danger.

If he didn't resolve this, if he didn't claim his mate, then he could lose her forever. And losing his smart-assed, vulnerable, outrageous Storme wasn't something he could imagine surviving.