Styx's Storm (13 page)

"No, she's not," Jonas agreed. "That leaves only one option."

Styx lifted a brow curiously. "There's an option?"

"One." Jonas nodded as a grin tugged at his lips.

Hell, seeing Jonas almost grin was damned scary. He'd only been doing it since his mating, and that just wasn't enough time to get used to it.

"So tell me what it is already," Styx growled.

"Show her who and what we are," Jonas stated. "Show her, Styx, the Wolf Breeds, the Coyotes, and the Felines here at Haven. Show her the good, let her see we're not all monsters."

Styx shook his head. "That's not enough."

She would need more.

"A woman who has been running since she was a teenager, no more than a child," he mused. "Her friends were killed or attacked before they were even friends. The Council left her no one but Gena Waters, a cold, unfeeling person who likely had no idea the affection a woman of Storme's temperament would need. There are few ways to get to the heart of such a woman."

Jonas nodded slowly. "Then give her affection, Styx. Give her warmth, and maybe, just maybe, in return, she'll give us the key to her own safety."

Styx stared back at him silently. "And you'll stay away from her until I've completed this."

"I didn't say that."

"I said you will," Styx demanded. "You won't harass "I said you will," Styx demanded. "You won't harass my mate, Jonas."

Jonas rolled his eyes. "Wolf, you know the signs of mating heat. Do you have them?"

"The symptoms are there," Styx growled, the sensitivity of his tongue an itchy irritation, the need to kiss his mate, to share a hormone that refused to release from the glands, a frustration that would likely drive him crazy.

"The mating mark isn't there, the mating scent isn't there, therefore there is no mating," Jonas said and shrugged negligently, as though he could possibly have the final word.

"Don't piss me off, Jonas," Styx warned him as he picked up the chef's knife and began chopping the vegetables for the soup.

"It's been enough time, you've had skin-to-skin contact." Jonas shrugged again. "I refuse to accept a mating without it."

Styx grinned. A real grin. One of anticipation and challenge.

"Weel then, I'd guess we can be workin' with that, can't we, Director?" he mused, feeling the playfulness returning. "We can work wi' that right well. I promise you, you'll learn I don't accept threats to what's mine."

And to that, Jonas nodded, as he gave another of those smiles that never failed to make Styx suspicious. "You know, Styx, I had a feeling you were going to be difficult about this."

Difficult didn't even come close.

CHAPTER 6

Haven wasn't much different from Sanctuary, Storme thought as she stood in the immaculate kitchen of the cabin she had awakened within after a heavy dose of Breed tranquilizer. She was still feeling the irritable, almost paranoid effects of the drug two days later, after the sleepiness had finally worn off. Of course, as Dr. Armani had told her with a smirk, if she hadn't been so exhausted, the effects wouldn't have been nearly so severe.

Added to it was a symptom the doctor hadn't told her about. A sensitivity to her flesh, a low-level aching need to rub at her skin, yet rubbing at it only seemed to make it worse. And her back itched in places she couldn't reach. Adding to the irritation was the fact that Styx was no place to be found.

If the Wolf was good for nothing else, maybe he could be a decent back scratcher.

She tried to ignore that little voice inside her that assured her there were other things Styx was definitely good at.

As midmorning approached and Styx still hadn't shown up, Storme paced to the kitchen door, stared into the huge courtyard that each cabin faced and felt like growling herself.

She was damned bored. Bored and curious. She knew the layout of the Feline prides' base, Sanctuary, from schematics that the pure blood societies had managed to attain from the Council. The historic old mansion that served as the main house in the compound had been renovated and owned by the Council at one time.

She had no idea where anything was at in Haven though, or even where she was located within it. Unlike Sanctuary, Haven was newly built, and the strict security within it had, so far, kept the pure blood societies from learning where the alpha of the packs' home was located, or his seconds in command.

From Styx's cabin all she could see was the main living community that Styx had brought her to. It rather resembled a large city block of cabins of various sizes that had been built beneath the shading limbs of oaks that had to be centuries old.

Spread out from the block, beneath the canopy of other heavy, camouflaging trees were other cabins of differing sizes and designs that she could see from several windows. There was a small store at the end of the block, what appeared to be a community center of sorts at the corner of the block behind the cabin, and a large secured bunker-type building set into the side of a cliff at the base of the mountain rising above the compound.

From the back door window of the kitchen, she could barely glimpse the steel and cement facade built into the mountain. It was set far enough from the cabins that if it were targeted, the residents would be safe, but it was close enough to provide shelter if needed.

A mountain lake surrounded by pines and heavy forest also held cabins that had been built to blend with the terrain rather than detract from it. In several areas there were home facings built into the mountain, just as the heavily secured steel bunker was set. Farther along the side of the lower slope of the mountain, more cabins were set. The soft gleam of lights shimmered within the trees, betraying the locations of a few, but not all, she knew.

It was serene.

As dawn brightened the night sky and gave the faintest hint of softness to the fog that filled the valley, Storme realized what made it so hard for Council assassins and pure blood terrorist groups to gain a foothold or information in Haven.

It was heavily shrouded by mountains and trees, blocked from satellite view, and every security measure had been taken to ensure that Council spies had no chance to reveal the locations of the homes.

The heavily guarded entrance to Haven was set back from the main compound, giving no opportunity to glimpse it from the road. Anyone with an intent to slip close enough to gain any detail had to first traverse the mountains that rose around the compound, also Wolf Breed and Coyote land, and had to slip past the sensitive noses of the teams of Enforcers that patrolled the land.

There were close to three hundred thousand acres of land that made up the Wolf Breed territory. The land had once been government owned, a wildlife preserve that had been accessible to tourists and nature lovers. It was now heavily guarded and closed to all but those who managed to gain special permission from the Wolf Breeds or the Bureau of Breed Affairs.

Haven was impossible to get into, according to the Council and pure blood societies that kept attempting to break past the security. And for Storme, impossible to get out of. Hell, the cabin itself was impossible to get out of.

The windows were barred, even the one at the back door. Enforcers patrolled the courtyard, as well as the front of the house. And as she had seen the morning she had gone through the bedroom window, dozens could be gathered within seconds of an alarm.

Finally, as her irritation seemed to reach peak level, the front door opened, a rush of fresh mountain air blowing into the house. Pine, the scent of freshly cut grass, and the smell of a fresh mountain lake. And it all seemed to wrap around him, making his shoulders look broader, his hair a fiery red as the sun glinted off it, the blue of his eyes deeper than an ocean.

She rubbed at her arms, the prickle beneath the skin seeming to intensify as he stalked across the room.

"The alpha and his lupina will be arriving this afternoon," Styx announced as he entered the kitchen and flashed her a flirtatious smile. "They've offered to bring any clothing or guest items you may need."

"I don't need their clothes," she muttered.

She'd prefer to wear nothing at the moment, maybe her flesh would stop tingling and itching as though the need for touch were driving her crazy.

"Fine, go naked." He shrugged as he shot her a wicked grin, then moved to the coffee he had made before he showered. "Suits me fine."

She just bet it would.

Before she could voice the sarcastic rejoinder, he strode to her, his hand curving beneath her hair to the back of her neck, surprising her as his head lowered.

Oh God. She almost moaned as his head slanted and his lips covered hers in a voracious, hungry kiss.

For a moment, panic and fear receded beneath an onslaught of such intense pleasure that her knees weakened.

Gripping his shoulders, Storme held on for the tumultuous ride, unable to do anything for heart-stopping seconds but meet his lips and tongue and draw as much of the pleasure around her as possible.

One hand lay at her hip, holding her to him as the other stroked up her side until his wide palm could cup and weight the curve of her breast.

An enterprising thumb stroked over the hard peak, sending spikes of dark, wicked sensation to spread through her body as she arched into him, suddenly hungry for more.

"No!" It was a moan rather than a demand as Storme jerked back from him.

She stumbled back against the wall, fighting a need that seemed to burn through her womb, into her pussy, and wrap around her clit like a lover's caress.

The itch beneath her flesh was turning to a burn. Until he touched her. Her entire body felt wrapped in static electricity, her skin humming in pleasure at the feel of him against her.

"No?" He stared at her from beneath heavily lashed lids, the glitter in his blue eyes heatedly sensual. "Sugar, I could eat you like chocolate you taste so damned good."

She would have delivered a scathing retort if a knock at the front door hadn't drawn her attention. She turned, staring across the room, over the open counter space to the heavy wood door on the opposite side of the living room.

With an amused arch of his brows Styx moved through the other room to open the door and greet the arrival.

"Jonas. Rachel. Welcome to my home," he said to greet the couple as they stepped into the living room and then moved to the kitchen, where Storme crossed her arms over her breasts and glared back at them. She didn't consider them welcome at all.

Storme fought to ignore them. She concentrated instead on the soft light that filled the area, bouncing off gleaming stone counters and shimmering wood cabinets that were obviously old and well polished.

Modern appliances filled the room along with an oval six-chair table that sat in the middle of a stone floor just a few shades lighter than the toasted cream color of the counters.

The open design of the cabin allowed Storme to see the large living area from there. An open fireplace gave a peek into a bedroom that seemed to fill one end of the cabin. The other end held two other bedrooms, with a shared bathroom and linen closet and small office between.

As Jonas and his wife entered the kitchen, the back door opened and Storme watched as Navarro Blaine and another Breed stepped into the room. There were too many Breeds here. She felt surrounded by them and it was terrifying.

She was still weak, unable to fight. The adhesive at her hip hadn't had time to seal the wound from her attempt to escape, and she could feel the additional bruises on her ribs from her contact with too many large rocks on the ground.

She was sore, hungry, certain she was running a fever, and she just wanted to be left the hell alone to rest again and suffer in peace. If she was going to be stuck here, the least they could do was allow her to be miserable in peace.

As the Breeds filled the kitchen, Storme moved cautiously from the room and stepped into the living room, until she was standing in front of the fireplace staring at the wide, luxurious autumn brown leather couch. A heavy coffee table sat between her and the couch, and to the side of that was an autumn red recliner that looked large enough for three of her.

The electronic glass of the coffee table was darkened by the computerized components that likely ran and programmed the television, stereo system and holographic Internet and entertainment capabilities. It was state-of-the-art, and she would have loved to have gotten her hands on it and investigated the various options it was programmed with.

A wide-screen television hung over the fireplace, a compact music station on the wall over the opposite fireplace, the heavy front door and a wet bar in the wall next to the kitchen.

A Breed bachelor pad, perhaps, with all the amenities.

"Navarro, have the bars on the windows been checked for tampering?" Styx questioned the other Breed as they stared at her through the opening above the counter.

Storme crossed her arms over her breasts and stared back at both men mutinously.

"Everything's taken care of," Navarro said and nodded. "There was some slight tampering to the locks as well as few of the bars, where the bolts secure them. It seems we have enterprising wildlife of late. Surely your guest wouldn't have attempted anything so outrageous?" Mockery filled the other Wolf's voice as Storme glared back at him furiously.

Bastard. She had been certain no one could have detected the probing attempts she had made to check the security of the bars.

"I'm honored that y'all would go to all that trouble for little ole me," Storme drawled sarcastically as the nervous tension began to get the best of her. "Bars on the windows, guards at the door. Why, the next thing you know I'll be on a bread and water diet."

"We take care of all our guests similarly," Navarro assured her. "We're far more hospitable than the Council. They'd lock you in a cell and leave you to rot without the bread and water."

Storme glared back at him. Damned smart-ass. Even in the labs, under the rule of soldiers who enjoyed beating the hell out of him if they got the chance, Navarro had been a sarcastic bastard.

"Enough, Navarro," Styx ordered softly. "As long as she's here, she's mine."

"As long as she stinks of fear and prejudice, she's the enemy," Navarro stated matter-of-factly, his expression, voice and entire demeanor cool and unaffected. "It's hard to imagine JR having a child that hated something he loved as much as he loved the Breeds he helped create."

"More than he loved his children." The words passed her lips before she could call them back.

Navarro stared back at her silently for long moments. "Or perhaps he simply expected his children to understand the responsibility he felt he owed to those he'd helped create and imprison. It's too bad, Storme, that only one of his children understood that."

Why do you love them, Daddy?
a young Storme had whispered painfully when her father arrived home too late to celebrate her tenth birthday with her.
Why are they more important?

She had wanted to understand, to make sense of the fact that the animals held more of her father's affection than it seemed she did.

Her father had bent down to her, his hands heavy on her young shoulders, his gaze filled with somber remorse.
Because they're my children too, Storme. And they suffer where you don't.

That admission had broken her heart. They were his children too, and they were more important than she was.

"They weren't his children," she whispered painfully. "He had a choice. He could have left at any time."

"As you left the day you caught a Council soldier beating one of the young?" Navarro asked then.

"And how did I pay for it?" she asked mockingly as she extended her arm to show the two small scars she still carried on the inside of her wrist. "Their canines may have been small, but they sure as hell knew how to use them. He attacked me like a rabid little dog."

The child had bit her, nearly slashing the veins in her wrists as she tried to pull him to safety after distracting the trainer that had been beating his back bloody.

"Stop!" Within a breath Styx moved into the room and swung her around, his head lowering, his gaze snaring hers with a gleam of command as that damned Wolf's growl in his voice rumbled in his chest. A warning to assure her that he meant what he said about calling any Breed an animal.

"That rabid little dog, as you call him, was out of his mind with fever and pain," Navarro informed her mercilessly as she stared up at Styx, her eyes wide.

Her heart slammed into her throat as she fought to hold back her surprise, the knowledge that the child might not have known what it was doing affecting her more than she wanted to admit. She had always believed the child had known, had been aware that he was attacking someone trying to help him.