Styx's Storm

CHAPTER 16

Storme left the cabin, forcing herself to keep her head high, her gaze searching the shadows that lengthened at the edge of the fluttering lights hanging from the trees.

The courtyard was huge. Nearly twenty cabins plus the community center surrounded it, with the long tables filled with food, while others were surrounded by chairs.

Heart racing, she moved across the courtyard with Styx, hiding her shaking hands and staring boldly at the curious gazes that focused on her.

"Several of the Breeds have hearing so acute they can actually hear the racing of your heart," Styx murmured in amusement. "They can smell the suspicion, but I'm certain they'll be pleased to know that before the suspicion was the fear."

"I'm terrified," she muttered back, and her lips almost twitched.

She was nervous, wary. These were Wolf Breeds, and mixed with them was a healthy number of Coyote Breeds. It was impossible to tell them apart, but it was the Coyotes that made her suspicious.

Changing a lifetime of beliefs and fears wasn't easy. She had avoided these little community get-togethers for the past weeks for a reason. She'd refused to socialize with the enemy, except Styx.

From that first night, the image of him ever being anything but her lover had refused to come to mind.

"It's different tonight," she stated as they began to move into the heavily populated area. "There are more Breeds here tonight."

"Tonight's a special night," he told her, the deep edge of the brogue stroking her senses. There was a tone of affection, of easy amusement, in his voice as his fingers brushed against the small of her back while leading her toward a table where Cassie Sinclair and her parents sat.

Dash Sinclair was just as handsome today as he had been nearly a decade before when he and his wife, Elizabeth, had first come to the notice of the world. Sinclair, a former Special Forces soldier, had been suspected and questioned in the murder of a leading crime figure who had threatened Cassie when she was a child.

Sinclair had been, and still was, a formidable figure. Storme had no doubt in her mind that he could kill, and kill easily, where the protection of his child was concerned.

And amazingly, just like Wolfe and Hope, Jacob and Faith, Aiden and Charity, and the other married couples within the Breed community, he and Elizabeth didn't appear to have aged in the least.

There were rumors that somehow the Breeds had stopped aging beyond a certain point, and that they had infected their wives and husbands with some unknown virus that caused the phenomenon.

Gossip magazines ran such stories on a nearly weekly basis.

"You're thinking too hard, lass," Styx commented as they moved to the head table. "Come, Storme, be a part of my world for one night. I promise, you won't regret it."

And that was what worried her.

Moving to the head table, Styx drew a chair out for her, helped her sit, then took his own seat.

"Ladies and gentlemen." Cassie stood to her feet, her voice amplified by the small mic that hooked over her ear.

The murmur of laughter and conversation stilled.

Cassie stood tall between her seated parents and gazed on the tables filled with Breeds and, as Storme had noticed, a number of humans and Feline Breeds as well. The Feline alpha and his felina were there, as well the Coyote alpha and his coya. If the pure blood societies had known about this little party, they would have been unable to resist the opportunity to strike.

"Tonight," she continued, "we celebrate my parents' tenth anniversary." A cheer went out. "Dash and Elizabeth Sinclair." She picked up the wineglass beside her plate as everyone followed suit.

Storme picked up her glass hesitantly, her gaze flicking to Styx as he picked up his as well.

Cassie stood to her father's side then, turned and faced her parents. "Your support and your love saved me." Her voice thickened as her parents held hands and Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears. "Your dedication and your loyalty to your friends, your family and the world we strive to be a part of is an example to everyone. May your love, your warmth and compassion continue to shine the way for us all."

A tear eased down Cassie's cheek as she lifted the wine to her lips and completed the toast.

Storme found herself toasting the couple as well, sipping and feeling her chest tighten at the emotion that reflected in the parents' expressions, in the child's and in the faces of those who occupied what appeared to be the celebratory couple's table.

Cheers went out, interspersed with howls and Feline roars.

Storme watched as the alphas and their wives came to the couple, congratulated them and laid in their hands on what appeared to be a sterling silver, or perhaps a white gold, charm or coin of some kind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he had.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lupina of the Wolf packs watched her closely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wolfe nodded, his gaze still on Storme. "I look forward to the meeting. Let's enjoy the party for now, and enjoy all our freedoms." He glanced to Styx before his arm lifted, his hand clapping on Styx's shoulder. "As Hope said, once again, you've outdone yourself."

"Of course I did," Styx answered with a grin. "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing with excellence."

Storme turned to him, as always amazed at the easy, smooth charm and easy conceit he seemed to possess.

A subtle wink in her direction nearly had her shaking her head in exasperation.

"I guess I've lost my dance now." Cassie chose that moment to step forward.

Storme felt like a dowdy peon in the presence of a princess. The other girl's waist-length black curls and vivid blue eyes were amazing enough, but she managed to make even jeans and boots paired with a sleeveless camisole look like royal threads.

There was laughter in her gaze though, a smile on her lips, and Storme could see that the certain affection she felt for Styx went no further than a familial bond. There was no jealousy in Cassie's eyes, and no anger in her tone despite the fact that she propped her hands on her hips and gave Styx a mock glare.

"You have a lot of dance partners here, Cassie," Styx assured her with an easy laugh as his hand settled at Storme's hip once again. "If nothing else, you can torture Navarro."

Storme saw the look that crossed Cassie's face and filled her gaze. A mysterious, knowing look filled with concern.

"Navarro isn't available anymore," she said regretfully.

The tightness in Storme's chest increased. It wasn't what she said, or even the way she said it. It was that look in her eyes, the concern and the regret.

Something that even Styx and the others seemed to sense.

"What's happening, Cass?" It was her father that asked the question.

Cassie turned back to her father, breathed out roughly and shook her head. "I don't know, Dad. All I know is something is going to happen, and we all need to be ready for it."

"How long have you felt it?" Wolfe questioned her.

"The moment Navarro was introduced to my friend Micca this evening."

"The rumors are true," Storme injected softly. "You're psychic."

"Actually, no, I'm not." Cassie grimaced. "It's more complicated and not nearly so sane as being psychic." Her head tilted then, a light frown edging her forehead as she blinked slowly.

Her face seemed to pale before she shook that off and inhaled slowly, evenly.

As her lips parted to speak, another voice, a voice from the past, from a nightmare, spoke behind them.

"Dash, Elizabeth, congratulations."

Storme turned slowly.

She didn't know what Styx sensed, didn't understand the sudden, warning growl that came from his chest or the way his hand settled on the weapon he wore at his thigh, the one she hadn't noticed him strapping on before they left.

But she knew the voice, and she knew the Breed.

Almost in slow motion she turned and faced the nightmare she had been running from for so long. A nightmare she had always known, she realized, that she would come face-to-face with sooner or later.

The Breed wasn't expecting her any more than she was expecting him. She watched the shock that flickered in his cold brown eyes. Those eyes were carefully blank, as though he knew to hide the malicious, bloodthirsty nature that had once glowed almost red in them.

Curved canines that looked a bit dark. They weren't nice and pristine white as most Breeds' were. Storme imagined that the taste he had for blood had stained them, just as it had stained his soul.

As she stared back at him in shock and horror, his lips curled back, flashing the canines predominantly in a vicious snarl.

Storme shook her head, trying to deny that she was seeing who she was seeing, what she was seeing. He couldn't be here. Styx would have never allowed her brother and father's murderer to be here.

"Storme?" Styx stepped into a defensive stance next to her, pulling her partially behind him as she and the Coyote locked gazes.

"There's nothing you can do," the Coyote said with a smirk. "There's nothing they can do." He nodded to the Breeds gathered around her. "Breed Law protects me as well. Had I known you were Styx's captive, I would have ensured my absence." As though it mattered. As though he felt some remorse. There was no remorse, and she knew it, she could see it in his eyes.

She was shaking. Storme could feel her body shaking, shuddering as agony began to tear through her.

"Storme." Styx's voice was hard, demanding.

"Storme, what's going on?" Hope moved in beside her, her husband, Wolfe, moving protectively to flank her as Styx flanked Storme.

"He killed her family." It was Cassie that spoke, her voice eerie, lacking any emotion, any fear, compassion, mercy or pain. "He's the Breed that tore her brother's and father's throats out."

It was said so matter-of-factly. As though those deaths were little or nothing in the total scheme of life. But they were everything to Storme.

"Marx Whitman," Cassie continued, her voice turning slightly hoarse, strained. "Dad. Do something."

"There's nothing he can fucking do," Marx snapped back at her, his teeth flashing dangerously. "I'm under Breed Law as well where my protection is concerned, you stupid little girl. I can't be punished for anything. I have committed no crimes since I joined Haven."

As though the crimes he committed before could be wiped away so easily.

Dash stepped forward, his larger body keeping his wife as well as Cassie pushed behind him. Storme was aware of them surrounding her, the males positioned to ensure that the Coyote came no closer.

"We may not be able to punish you, but you won't be allowed to torture Storme with your presence either," Wolfe snapped back.

Storme would have been surprised if it weren't for the fact that it took all she could do to control the rage tearing through her, demanding justice, vindication.

"He killed them," she whispered through numb lips. "And he enjoyed it."

"I haven't killed since accepting Breed Law, outside my capacity as an Enforcer." Triumph glittered in his brown eyes. "I do what I'm told. I'm a good little Coyote now, Ms. Montague."

She wanted to scream. Her fingers curled into claws as she fought back the need to jump for him, to rip the smirk off his face.

"Find his alpha," Dash demanded, his voice low.

"Have him held," Styx demanded furiously as Marx's gaze glittered with surprise and his lips twisted into a snarl of disgust.

"Your precious princess, Cassie, can tell you that arresting me would be a mistake."

Cassie flinched as his gaze raked over her.

"Cassie?" Her father questioned her.

"There are always loopholes," Cassie drawled, though her voice was strained and hinted at indecision. "Unless we can prove he's committed an act of aggression against Breed Law, then there's nothing we can do. And I can't prove it." Her eyes glowed within her paperwhite face. "Even though I know he has."

Marx laughed bitterly at that. "Look around you, Alpha Gunnar. Arrest me, hold me for crimes committed while in the labs, and you'll lose the trust of every Breed here. Just because your little witch"--he flicked his fingers to Storme--"wants to believe I've done something, doesn't mean I have."

He was right. Even Storme knew he was right. There was no way for Styx or Wolfe to punish the Coyote for the crimes he had committed that night, because he had technically been under the control of the trainers, Council scientists and soldiers he had been trained to obey.

"Get her out of here, Styx," Wolfe ordered from Styx's side as Storme continued to stare at the monster from her past. "We'll find Jonas and handle this."

"What is there to handle, Alpha Gunnar?" Marx gave a sneering laugh. "There's nothing to handle. I'm a resident of Haven, you can't change that without breaking the laws you made."

Silence descended. Even the music that had been playing before the Breed showed up had eased. All eyes were trained on them now. Hundreds of eyes, Breed and human alike.

"The Mating Articles," Cassie stated then.

"She's no fucking mate of his!" Marx exclaimed contemptuously then. "She stinks of her fear and hatred of us, just as her father did. He wanted nothing more than to destroy every Breed he ever created, and she knows it."

Storme stared, waiting, watching, her eyes narrowing on the hated, squared face of the Coyote that had destroyed her life.

He wasn't handsome, graceful, or charming as the other Breeds were. His features were out of sync, as though his genetics had somehow attempted to merge physically as well as psychologically.

"You can't do anything to me as the situation stands." Marx shrugged his shoulders as though what any of them might want to do didn't really matter. "Now, I came to enjoy the party and to discuss a few things with Alpha Gunnar. Standing here with this Breed hater in my face wasn't part of the plan."

"I never hated Breeds," Storme bit out, fighting to contain her rage as she glared back at him. "I hated you."

He laughed at that, as Styx growled, a low, violent sound that had Storme flinching. The tension was tightening around them now, low mumblings from the Breeds and humans filtering through the veil of disbelief and rage that surrounded Storme.

"Hate me all you want to." He rolled his eyes, obviously laughing at her now. "Hate me until hell freezes over, little girl. It won't matter. You can't touch me and neither can your lover."

"He killed them." She turned on Styx, certain there had to be a mistake. They couldn't allow this Breed to run around free, to laugh, to gloat that he had won, while her father and brother were dead.

"There's nothing we can do." Styx seemed to push the words from between his lips. "He's right. He signed Breed Law, and it protects him as well as you."

Marx grinned, his gaze flicking over Storme once more. "They can't even order me away from you. You're not his mate, which means there's no Breed loyalty to you, Ms. Montague. All you have is Styx." He shook his head as he made a tsking sound. "But look on the bright side, at least you won't be looking over your shoulder for me anymore." His spread his arms wide. "I'm right here."

Styx jumped for him.

Before his fist could make contact with the snide mockery in Marx's face, Dash, Wolfe, Navarro, and Jonas were there to pull him back, their voices raised, their hold unbreakable as Marx sneered at him.

More Breeds moved in then. A small contingent of Coyotes backed Marx as the majority of the Breeds moved in behind the Wolf Breed alpha and snarled back at the Coyotes watching them warily.

"Where is your alpha?" Wolfe snarled as Styx fought their hold.

Storme stared back at Marx, hatred filling her to the point that she could barely hold on to the need to kill.

"It doesn't matter where my alpha is," Marx snapped back. "You can't order me from Haven and neither can he."

"The hell I can't." Wolfe stepped forward, his voice lowering, deepening. "You have just deliberately instigated a confrontation with a higher ranking enforcement officer than yourself. I can and I will penalize you the full length of time possible until this situation is resolved. If I see you in Haven before the allotted fourteen days is up, then you will be locked up."

Marx laughed. Brown eyes glittered with such triumph, with such brutal mercilessness that Storme felt that tightening in her chest increase, the feeling of impending doom nearly choking her as she fought to get hold of her control.

"Dad, get Mom out of here," Cassie suddenly whispered.

Dash turned to her, shock lining his face.

"Dash, get her and Elizabeth to the heli-jet." Jonas was moving, calling Enforcers to him, attaching a comm set to his ear and ordering the heli-jet prepared.

"What have you done?" Wolfe advanced on Marx as Storme watched the Breeds behind Marx quickly dissipating, eager to place distance between themselves and whatever they sensed preparing to explode between the alpha and the Breed.

"Me?" False innocence filled the Coyote's face then. "What could I have done?"

"Contain him," Wolfe ordered several of the Breeds behind him.

Storme fought to breathe. That choked, panicked feeling always came just before . . .

The explosion shook the courtyard.

Storme felt herself flying, the blast of heated air that swept her off her feet tossing her onto the thick lawn as chaos started to fill the compound.

Roars, snarls, and furious screams began to erupt, and just when Storme thought she could jump to her feet, another explosion ripped through the night and sent her to her knees.

Lifting her head, Storme stared at the flames and the night erupting around them.

Carefully placed explosions had been laid in the courtyard, hidden and detonated at the moment when everyone would have been dancing had it not been for the confrontation with Marx.

"Let's go!" Styx's yell was accompanied by his arm wrapping around her waist as he dragged her from the ground.

"Cassie," she cried out, staring around desperately. "Where's Cassie?"

"Dash and Jonas's Enforcers have her," he yelled back as another explosion shook the ground and ripped through the alpha's home. "Move. Let's go."

He all but dragged her from the force of Breeds running through the flame-shrouded night, arming themselves, rushing Wolfe and Hope, Dash and his wife and daughter, and the wives of the other Breeds that had attended.

The Feline Breeds' alpha was holding a baby, her teenage son at her side, snarling in rage as Enforcers moved to get them out of the line of fire.

"Get them out of the fucking courtyard," Styx screamed at the group. "This way."

Turning, Styx led the way through the dense foliage at the center of the courtyard as gun and laser fire began to erupt behind them.

"Haven's under attack. We're under attack!" Storme heard Enforcers behind them yelling while overhead the sound of a distinctive hum could be heard.

"Get them the fuck out of here. Move. Move!"

They were rushing between two cabins, shadows enfolding them as Styx raced to get out of the clearing.

As they cleared the cabins, it was as though hell opened up around them. Heavy machine gun fire powered by overhead helicopters began ripping along the ground.

A baby wailed. The sound of a frightened, pained scream could be heard. And before Storme could make sense of any of it, another explosion rocked the night, throwing debris, flames and destruction around them.

"Bitch!" Storme found herself being jerked from the ground by her hair, agony screaming through her head as she fought, clawed at the fingers tangled in the thick strands to drag her to her feet. "You should be fucking dead."

Fighting to lock her knees in place, she tried to remain on her feet, only to stumble as she was jerked again, an agonizing cry leaving her lips as the searing pain tore through her head once more.

Where was Styx?

She tried to gaze around, but the group that had been together when the final explosion rocked the night was nowhere to be seen now.

He wouldn't leave her alone, she told herself. He wouldn't have taken the others and left her to protect herself. She knew he wouldn't.

Tears filled her eyes as that horrible premonition struck her chest again. Her breathing hitched; she gasped for air and then lost the ability to breathe at the sight of his hard, broad form sprawled out on the ground several feet from her.

"Styx!" She screamed his name as the harsh fingers jerked her around, shook her, then a hard, heavy fist slammed into her face, turning the world black.