Styx's Storm

CHAPTER 9

Styx fought to replace the anger building inside him with the calm he'd always found centered him. He'd learned years ago that anger only clouded his judgment, it only led to decisions made in the heat of emotion rather than cool logic.

And in dealing with the situation at hand, cool logic was all that would prevail and still see his soul intact.

As Cassie left the house with a cheery wave, he couldn't help but grit his teeth. Cassie could be a bit of a trouble-maker when she felt the situation called for it, and she was definitely attempting to stir the pot of irritation at present.

But mixed with his exasperation at her was an edge of satisfaction as well. His wee Storme was madder than hell at the thought of him spending the next evening with Cassie, chocolate and a bottle of wine at the Point.

The Point being Cassie's name for the small gatherings that were held each evening for dinner. She had been calling it the Point for years now, and none yet knew why. The wine was a gift to her mother for her anniversary and the chocolate was the gourmet truffle cake Cassie had found for Styx to give her parents as a present.

Cassie had made it sound like an intimate, secluded date, and she'd pulled it off with a daring little smile. She'd finally managed to pull the fiery scent of jealousy from Storme's body in a fierce, hot wave.

It had lasted for only a few fragile moments, but it had been there, burning the senses and filling the air with feminine possession.

He rubbed at the back of his neck as he closed the door and moved into the kitchen. From the fridge he pulled a cold chocolate coffee drink, uncapped it and drained it in two solid gulps.

Sleeping was something he wasn't doing much of lately. Hopefully the caffeine would kick-start his energy level just enough to face the stubborn little minx still pouting in his bedroom.

Ah, he liked the sound of those words. Storme waiting in his bedroom. If only he had the right to stalk in there and demand his due as her mate. To demand her safety and convince her of the logic of handing over the data chip her father had given her.

Jonas wasn't going to leave Haven without it. He'd made his position clear that afternoon before the Wolf-Coyote Breed Ruling Cabinet. If Storme didn't produce the data chip, then she would be arrested under the tenants of Breed Law and confined in Sanctuary until such time as she did turn it over.

His teeth snapped together at the thought.

He wouldn't fucking allow it. His mate would not be confined in those windowless cells beneath the mountain, trapped in a small square of a room with no way out, no way to scent the breeze or feel the sunshine. And she sure as hell wouldn't be under the control of Jonas Wyatt.

As much as he respected Jonas, he'd kill the man before he allowed him to fly out of Haven with Storme.

On the heels of that thought his bedroom door was jerked open, and the object of his affection, his lust, and rapidly his heart, stepped into the living room to glare at him in irritation.

"You're still here?" she questioned him, the anger in her tone barely hidden. "I would have thought you'd have left by now."

"Well now, lass, it is my home." He gave her a toothy grin, one sure to flash the canines at the side of his mouth.

He wasn't going to hide who he was from her. There were times he got the impression that Storme fought to ignore the fact that he was a Breed, and wanted nothing more than to convince herself that he was as much human as she was.

"Well, I would gladly return your home to you," she muttered as she moved into the kitchen, hips swaying, nipples hard beneath the T-shirt and the long black hair flowing to her shoulders.

She was a wild, beautiful lass, he thought with a sigh. And so damned stubborn. She had the rounded tip of her nose lifted, her determined chin tilted, and those beautiful green eyes were narrowed with disdain and anger, and just that softest hint of jealousy wafted through the air.

That hint of possessive heat was the first sign he'd had that perhaps she felt something more for him than simply lust. It was hell, knowing this woman was his mate, feeling the edge of mating heat that had yet to flare to full life, and being without the satisfaction of knowing that all Breeds would scent his possession and see his mark, know her for the treasure she was to him.

Since Breed freedom had been achieved and mating heat realized, those male Breeds who were aware of the phenomenon waited with eager anticipation for their mate.

There were still those Breeds, both male and female, who were unaware of nature's gift to the Breeds, unless they had already mated. Knowledge of the biological bonding was kept in the strictest confidence, and any Breed who dared to tell the tale would face the combined fury of all Breeds.

"What are you thinking about so heavy? Your little date?" she said to mock him as she entered the kitchen and moved for the coffeepot.

Styx sighed. It would be his luck to be the only unmated mated Breed in existence. Damn if the pressure of it wasn't ready to chip at his unflappable calm as well.

His cock was hard. He shifted his stance, wondering if there was some way to ease the pressure of it that she wouldn't notice.

"I've things to do, Sugar," he answered as he leaned back against the counter, propped his hands on the slate countertop behind him and just watched her. "The life of a Breed isn't all chocolate and fun, ye know."

He wondered what her flesh would taste like decorated in chocolate. Truly fine, dark and sweet with just a hint of the cocoa sharpness. Even the most decadent chocolate didn't come near to the taste of her flesh though.

"Yeah, its chocolate, wine and fun," she grunted as she made her coffee then went through the kitchen cabinets. "You need to buy groceries unless you intend to starve me."

Styx scratched at his cheek. "Aye, I need to buy a few tidbits to contribute to dinner as well. We're having a pig roast next week, and a few of our more musically talented will be playing for a wee bit of dancing."

He watched her back, watched as she took a deep, hard breath. Next week she would learn the true nature of the wine and chocolate if she cared to pay attention. All mated couples celebrated the anniversary of their matings with the community. They reveled in what they had been gifted with and the lives they were leading now versus the ones they had led in the labs.

She shot him a mutinous glare. "Who's taking me? One of my jailers? You're certainly never around in the evenings."

"You can join yourself, Storme," he told her gently. "You are not excluded from the activities in the square. But if you would like an escort, I can have Navarro accompany you if you prefer not to arrive with me."

He did have other duties for tomorrow night's celebration. He was in charge of roasting the pig, a project that would begin in the next few hours.

"Forget it." The mutinous set of her lips assured him that she would fight tooth and nail before she joined the celebration.

"Ah." He nodded seriously. "I assumed you'd be gettin' cabin fever by now, but I imagine not having to run at every opportunity and having space to rest is rather a novelty. I'll allow you to do that. For a while."

He turned away, watching out of the corner of his eye as she glared at him.

"I'll bring ye a plate tonight though, beauty," he promised her with a grin that he knew would set her teeth on edge. "I believe it's fried chicken night. Aiden Chance, our head of security, insists on a fried chicken night that includes macaroni and cheese with extra cheese." He patted his stomach and made a smacking sound with his lips to indicate the level of sheer cuisine excellence. "Let me tell you what, we have damned fine fried chicken when Hope, Charity and Jessica, Hawke's mate, get together around the fryer."

And he wasn't lying. Of course, the fried chicken preparation took more than the three women. Frying enough chicken for an evening meal at Haven was an all-day event, with volunteers packing the community house from dawn until dinner.

The cabin that served as a kitchen and gathering area in the colder months worked in the summer as a central location for preparation. The entire bottom floor was a kitchen, pantry and eating area.

"Have fun," she muttered as the coffee finished and she poured a cup of the steaming brew.

"Lass, there's no limit to the fun to be had if one is of a mind to join in," he laughed, enjoying these few moments to tease her, though he knew she was unaware of the jest behind the words.

She turned and moved to the glass window of the back door, staring into the courtyard square pensively as she sipped at the coffee.

"Must be a hell of a shock," he stated. "To learn us dirty animals live not so differently from the humans that created us."

She stiffened.

Oh, he was more than aware of her opinion on Breeds. He'd actually heard her mutter the comment several times over the past few years as he tracked her.

He'd forgiven her though. Lord above knew the nightmares she must have had since she had seen her da and brother killed. Their throats had been ripped out; the bloody mess the Coyotes had left behind would give a grown man nightmares, let alone a fragile teenager who feared Breeds to begin with.

"I haven't called you an animal," she denied softly.

"Ah lass, when ye call Navarro, or Wolfe, or any Breed that fights for freedom an animal, ye call me one as well," he chastised her, wondering where this particular conversation would take them.

They hadn't had time to talk much in the past few days. When he was with her, he was more of a mind to fuck her than to talk with her.

Hell, there was nothing he wanted more at the moment than to sample the sweet, feminine taste of her and feel her snug little pussy opening for his dick. But, he could almost sense the conflict raging in her at the same time. A conflict that would offer little time for sexual play. At least for the time being.

Watching her, he now knew why the Breeds who were mated became slavering fools for the tender touch of their mate. If she turned to him, gave him a smile free of mockery, one filled with warmth and love, then he would willingly walk into death for her.

Her head dipped as she stared beyond the door, obviously watching the preparation for the night's meal. Normally, meals were prepared in advance, with everyone bringing their particular dish to the party. Tonight was no exception but for the amount of time pan frying the trays of crispy chicken that would be carried to the picnic tables as everyone began arriving.

"What has ye so pensive, Storme?" he asked gently as she continued to stare into the shaded courtyard beyond.

"I want to leave." It was said so matter-of-factly, so cold and chillingly polite that he swore he felt something tear a hole in his chest.

Never had a woman wanted to leave his company, be she human or Breed. To hear it from this one, the one that should be his, had the power to awaken the animal inside him with a snarl of rage.

He was normally a calm, easygoing Breed. Even in the heat of battle Styx wasn't one to get overly pissed off or to allow the savage side of his nature freedom.

"You know you can't leave." The brogue dropped; the easy joking and playful fun dissipated inside him.

"Because you won't let me," she snapped as she turned on him, setting the cup heavily on the table as she moved across the room. "Because you and Jonas Wyatt think you can direct anyone and everyone's life however you choose."

"I leave the directing to Jonas." He shrugged easily. "Too many lives and not enough days."

"This isn't a joke, Styx," she yelled back at him. The heat of her anger, pain and fear slapped his senses like a barbed whip.

"I agree with you, your life is a verra damned serious thing to me, woman," he growled back at her, almost wincing at the animalistic sound that had her backing away. "Damn you, Storme. You act as though I'm going to attack you, hurt you in some way. When have I ever harmed you?"

"That doesn't mean you won't," she argued forcefully, as if she were trying to convince herself more than anyone else. "I saw Breeds turn on their handlers in the labs as though they had nothing human inside them ..."

"Oh well hell, excuse the fuck outta me," he exclaimed, suddenly so completely fed up with her fear that he felt as if he were sinking in it himself. "Let's just brand us all as monsters, Storme, because the horrors we lived with may have riled us a bit. I guess we should execute those who killed their handlers and trainers for fucking raping them, dissecting them alive, and sending others out to shed innocent blood or face the deaths of those they had to leave behind in the labs."

He moved until he was standing over her, staring down at her, watching her eyes dilate with naked misery as she watched him.

"It wasn't like that. I knew them. Those scientists, those trainers. They weren't like that." Tears filled her eyes, and in them Styx saw the lie she tried to make herself believe. She knew they had been like that. But to admit it, meant admitting her father and her brother had been a part of it.

"You think because he was your father, because he loved you, that he wouldn't stand aside and allow those Coyotes and soldiers and trainers to rape those wee young women before they ever knew what it was like to understand a man's touch? Do you think your brother didn't watch men and women screaming in agony as their organs were cut from their living bodies so some fat, diseased bastard with enough cash to buy their lives could live another day?"

"Stop." She jerked away from him, her face pale, her eyes like deep, dark bruises in her pale face. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Your da kept you out of the labs, didn't he, Storme?" he yelled back at her as she retreated across the room. "Your brother kept you from the trainers and the soldiers, didn't he?"

She shook her head, but he knew they had. It was one of the few things he truly respected the Montague men for.

"They kept you out of those labs but for the rare times that they had no choice because of orders from the Directorate," he snapped back at her. "Children were always shown only certain areas of the labs. The ones where the Breeds were little more than animals, so out of their minds with fever and pain that they had no concept of reality, and therefore those who knew no better had no concept of them as human. Deny it, Storme, I dare you."

She shook her head. There were no tears on her face, no horror in her eyes. Hell no, she had to know by now, had to have realized the reality of what she had been shown.

"We don't pretend to be saints." He stepped back from her, the scent of her pain far more than he could bear. "We're strong enough to protect ourselves, able enough to create our own lives and to live in peace, with an assurance of some measure of justice, and I swear to God I think you'd send every one of us right back there if you could."

"No." Instinctive, horrified, her voice slapped back at him. "I just want to be left alone. By the Breeds as well as the Council. That's all I want."

"Then give me the location of the data chip," he said wearily, knowing he could never keep a vow to release her. Even now, with the mating not even fully in effect, he couldn't bear the thought of watching her walk out of his life. He would gladly lie to her, give her any promise she asked for to ensure that Jonas could never touch her with Breed Law and that the Council could never harm another person, especially his mate, with whatever experimentation they had been researching in those labs.

"Give you the location of the data chip," she said, mocking him bitterly. "Just give you what you want." Disgust filled her expression. "You're no better than the Council, Styx. Just give you what you want and I can have my freedom. Maybe I don't like being locked away any more than you did."

"At least you have comfort," he stated as he forced back the fury threatening to claim him. "You're not held down daily and raped by whichever soldier walks past your door. You're fed well, kept in pleasant accommodations, and you're allowed to wear fucking clothes," he sneered back at her. "So I'd say I'm a hell of a lot better than those fuckers and I'd dare you to even suggest otherwise ever again."

Storme stared back at him, her chest tight with the fear and ragged pain she had fought since the night her father and brother died.

True, Coyotes had killed them. Coyotes who were controlled by the Genetics Council. But Wolf Breeds had been escaping; they had to have known her father and brother were in danger, and they had let them die.

She knew they had. She had heard their howls outside the house even as James's throat had been ripped out. They hadn't cared about the two scientists who had worked to save them. They hadn't cared about the fourteen-year-old girl who had been terrified and running for her life.

All they had cared about was their freedom and she couldn't forget it. She couldn't forgive any of them for it. Only animals cared only for their own safety and nothing for the innocents they left behind.

"Think what you want." Her voice was ragged, the tears she refused to shed trapped as always in the dark, nightmarish vacuum inside her soul. "I have nothing that belongs to the Breeds, and I have nothing that belongs to you, or to Jonas Wyatt."

"And what of his child?" he bit off. "Do you think he wants that information to satisfy his own fucking curiosity, Storme? That research could save his wife's infant daughter. A daughter injected with a genetic virus by a human sweetheart. One who thinks he can play God and cheat death."

She felt the breath leave her chest for precious seconds. For a moment, she was fourteen again, running through that darkened tunnel as the nightmarish images of her brother's death replayed itself over and over again. She was alone, cold and praying it was all a dream.

Storme shook her head desperately then. "They destroyed all their files," she whispered. "I watched them do it. I saw them destroy everything. I saw them die because that research wasn't there when the Council henchmen and their Coyotes came to collect it ..."

"It was there before he copied it all to a data chip and gave it to you," he amended softly. "That's why the Council repeatedly sends those bastards after you. That's why the Breeds have busted their asses since you were eighteen to keep them off your back until you grew up enough to realize who the fuck the bad guys are, Storme." The look he gave her was one filled with disappointment. "And you still haven't grown up, have you?"

Before she could fight, before the anger inside her could light a fuse to the temper she could feel raging out of control inside her, Styx jerked her into his arms.

Almost as though he were helpless against the need that suddenly flamed in his eyes, helpless against the situation and the sense that there would never be a way to resolve it.

A hungry groan tore from his chest as he pulled her head back and covered her lips with enough fiery lust to blaze out of control.

She couldn't fight him. She couldn't fight the pleasure, the anger or the pain. She couldn't fight the need to be in his arms, or the futility that seemed to shackle her.

She could give herself to this though. To the inferno of pleasure and hopeless longing, for just a few seconds.

It wasn't as though he gave her a choice. His arms wrapped around her, lifted her to him, and his tongue sank inside her lips to find hers.

Here, she wasn't alone. There were no conflicts, there was no danger. Here, Storme could forget that everyone wanted the very thing from her that she was terrified to give. At this moment, all Styx wanted was her kiss and her touch. And at this moment there was nothing more in this world that she wanted to give him.

"Don't stop." The cry that tore from her lips as he pulled back shocked her.

The sound was rife with desperation, with needs and desires she didn't dare look too deeply into.

"Storme, sweet lass," he sighed against her lips before pressing a soft, gentle kiss at the corner. "If only this could break down the barriers in your mind so easily."

She shook her head. "Don't, Styx. Please let this go. I'm begging you."

"Please let you go?" His lashes lifted, revealing eyes so blue that for a moment she feared she would drown in them.

Her lips trembled. "Kiss me again first."

She was desperate for the taste of him. So hungry for him she felt as though she were drowning with it. Her flesh was sensitive, her pussy heated and wet, her clit so swollen and throbbing with such a need for release that she felt tortured by it.

"Fuck you first?" he asked, his expression drawn and tight. "Give you one last taste of being with an animal before you return to whatever human lover you'll have after me?"

"No." She shook her head fiercely, her eyes widening in shock that he would say something so horrible. "No, Styx. Because this is the only place in the world I've ever been able to find peace." Her lips trembled. "Just in your kiss."

"Ahh, lass." He pushed her hair back before laying his forehead against hers and staring into her eyes. "And what peace does it leave me? To know the woman I would claim as my own will take my body, but refuses to accept my heart, or the part of me that isn't so human?"

Confusion filled her, rocked her entire being. "Claim me?" She could barely push the words from her lips. "Why would you want to even think such a thing, Styx? That's not how it was supposed to be."

If he wanted to claim her, then there were emotions. Ties were forming. Bonds could be building. She couldn't have that. Her future was too dark, too uncertain. There was no place in it for promises.

Struggling, pushing back, she tore from his arms and stared back at him in panic. "This isn't a claiming, Styx. We didn't discuss that. That's not what this is supposed to be."

"Ah yes, how remiss of me," he drawled, his tone rougher, darker as she watched his gaze begin to burn with anger. "I guess I should have paid more attention to Jonas when he advised me that you would never see a Breed as anything more than a pet at best." Cold derision filled his expression. "I guess that's why he made certain I understood exactly how you felt about a Breed."

He didn't give her time to argue. He stalked from the house, the door slamming behind him and causing her to flinch at the violent sound.

"No, Styx," she whispered into the sudden silence that filled the house. "That's why Jonas told you how I should feel."

She wished he would tell her now, because she had no idea what she felt, or what she was supposed to do with the unfamiliar emotions and the raw, burning pain inside her chest.

Jonas should have kept his mouth shut. Nothing else mattered to Jonas but getting what he wanted though, just as reports suggested. Yes, he had kept Breeds on her ass for ten years. He had chased off Council Coyotes and soldiers, but the only reason he hadn't captured her before now was because he'd known he couldn't force that information from her.

Just as the only reason he had reminded Styx of how she felt about Breeds was to ensure that Styx felt no loyalty to her.

Breathing in deeply, she moved to the back door again, staring into the courtyard with narrowed eyes.

She had to get out of here before she lost her mind. Before this need, before these unfamiliar emotions, destroyed her.

But how did one escape from a highly secured Breed compound?

The front of the cabin was watched diligently. At any time day or night she could look out and see a Breed stalking the area.

Here though, in the courtyard where they all gathered to play and to socialize, security was much lighter. There had been two Enforcers conducting rounds in the past two nights. They had mostly spent their time beneath the wooden canopy where the food was laid out each evening. They were a little less on guard here, trusting the Breeds on perimeter patrol to alert them of any danger.

She could slip through the courtyard and out the other side. Getting past the sentries wouldn't be easy, but she could pull it off. If she took the last scent-neutralizing capsule hidden in her bag, then as long as they didn't see her, they would never know she was there.

Some of her stuff had been brought in that morning before the doctor arrived. Her jeans were in the bag she had been forced to leave in the hotel, and no doubt the Coyote soldiers who had trashed it had taken the bag just to be certain what they wanted wasn't there. But her car had still been in the parking lot, and the small duffel bag with her boots, socks and winter jacket was still stuffed in the trunk. The tiny compartment built into the hole of that boot still held her last scent neutralizer. She'd checked just to be certain.

It would last twelve hours. Long enough for her to get the hell out of Haven and halfway to the nearest town. If she were lucky, she might be able to contact the only friend she had ever been able to depend on and hitch a ride clear out of Colorado.

She was going to have to escape. She needed to figure out what to do with that data chip, and the best way to keep it out of both Breed and Council control.

She should just destroy it.

She played with the ring on her finger, her thumb rubbing over the sapphire set within the ring of diamonds. The gem looked real, the outer shell actually was real. What lay beneath it was the true value of the jewelry though. It was there that her father had hidden the chip filled with information on Project Omega.

Only God knew what it said, or what was actually in the files. She couldn't decrypt them, and she had tried countless times over the years.

One thing was for certain--she was going to have to do something. Getting out of here was imperative. Even more imperative was figuring out who to give that chip to.

She couldn't give it to the Council. They had killed her father and brother, given the order to the Coyote to rip her brother's throat out. Nothing on Earth or in hell could convince her to give them the information they wanted. She would destroy it first.

Giving it to the Breeds was just as dangerous. She had no idea what the information was or what her father's research entailed. She knew though that he considered it so dangerous, so lethal in the hands of the Council that he and her brother had died to protect it.

He had promised her someone would come for the chip, but no one had ever come to her to tell her that he was the one her father had sent.

The Council demanded it. Coyote soldiers fought to capture her and to force the information from her. Breeds shadowed her as though she would turn around and pass it to them in the shadows.

But no one had simply said, "Your father told me to come to you."

Running at fourteen hadn't been easy. There had been days, weeks at a time when she had hid in the deserts of the Southwest, trying to ensure no Breed caught her scent, trying to figure out how to survive.

It didn't matter where she hid though, she was always found.

On a snowy, frigidly cold night the year she turned eighteen, she had been at a breaking point. Dirty, sick, cold and hungry, she had huddled in an alley behind a loud, popular restaurant and nightclub. She couldn't have gone any farther. She couldn't have fought so much as one more battle.

Gena Waters, a rough-talking, tattooed biker, had found her. She had pulled Storme up and urged her to come to the apartment she rented over the restaurant. She'd helped her bathe, fed her, and given her a place to hide.

Over the years, Gena had pulled her ass out of more fires than Storme could count. Fires they had assumed the free Breeds had begun and Council Breeds had tried to follow through with.

Gena had asked for nothing. She'd always been there.

Even when Storme hadn't called her.

That thought pierced her mind, causing her to pause now as it had in the past, as she wondered how Gena had known she was in danger those times.

God, she was becoming so suspicious.

Moving through the house, she began to plot the best course out of Haven and the best way to contact Gena.

Sometimes it took a day or two, but she always managed to find a way to help Storme when there was no other recourse.

It was Storme's only option. Because God knew, if she stayed here much longer, then she was going to lose her mind. Or even worse, her heart.