Stygian's Honor Page 18

  r hunger.

  As she tucked the engorged head at the entrance, Stygian felt the first blast of the easing qualities of the fluid jetting inside her.

  Without it, the thick width of his cock would have only hurt her, the knot that would extend inside her, locking him to her as his semen spurted to the heated depths of her womb, would have been pain rather than pleasure.

  As it filled her, her head tilted back, her gray eyes darkened and as the heavy strands of her hair caressed his sensitive thighs, she bore down and with one shift of her hips, took the aching head of his dick inside her.

  It was like watching the animal inside him come alive, Liza thought hazily as she watched Stygian’s gaze flare, the black receding beneath the brilliant sapphire blue.

  As the thick, throbbing crest filled her, another heated ejaculation spurted from his cock, filling her, easing the tension in her pussy even as it amplified the pleasure.

  Tingles of exquisite sensation exploded in her vagina. Nerve endings became more sensitive, more demanding. Each incredible stretch of the ultrasensitive tissue revealed nerve endings that throbbed in greater need and sent electrical flares of such lush sensation racing through her that it forced her to lift her head, to lean into his broad chest for support as it overcame the last barrier of her control.

  She didn’t want to control anything anymore.

  She didn’t want to fight anymore.

  She had spent so many years fighting some unnamed hunger, some need that she was finding the answer to here, in his arms, and in finding it, she no longer needed to fight it.

  Shifting her hips, lifting by increments, lowering herself again, Liza couldn’t hold back the moaning whimpers of pleasure that fell from her lips. With each downward stroke of her tightened vagina over the thick length of his cock, the heated fluid spilled inside her again. With each spurt the taut muscles eased, allowing her to take more of him, while the tension and incredible need for release became more amplified.

  Holding on to his shoulders, her nails biting into his flesh, she forced her eyes open, staring into the gem-bright brilliance of his as he stared back.

  As his fingers tightened at her hips, his expression was tight with a savage hunger, each plane and angle defined with brutal clarity to hint at the primal male animal that stalked beneath his flesh.

  “I need this,” she cried out desperately, moving harder, faster, desperate to force every inch of his erection inside her. “Please, Stygian. I need this.”

  She needed all of him.

  Lifting, returning, feeling her juices spill to the throbbing shaft filling her, Liza could feel the pleasure spiraling out of control inside her. Like a vicious wind whipping through her senses, but this wind was filled with lashing sensations and the promise of ecstasy.

  Desperation edged at each shift and downward stroke of her hips. Each throb of her swollen clit and clench of her tightening vagina was an agony of sensations she could hardly bear.

  His hands tightened at her hips again before sliding to her rear. Holding her still, he allowed a growl to erupt from his throat a second before he surged upward, shafting inside her in one full stroke.

  Liza tipped her head back, a keening cry escaping her throat as pleasure and pain combined to send her senses spinning in a winding spiral.

  Once he was fully embedded inside her, she couldn’t remain still. She needed those long, hard strokes. She needed the fiery, pleasure/pain of the heavy thrusts fucking inside her, driving her insane with an ecstasy she couldn’t have anticipated.

  She wanted all of him.

  His hard possession.

  His arms surrounding her.

  And his kiss.

  “Oh God, kiss me,” she whispered, the need for his taste riding her as hard as he was with the heavy width of his cock.

  His hand cupped the back of her neck, pulling her forward with a move so powerfully dominant it sent a surge of pure sensation tearing across her nerve endings.

  Hungry and filled with lust, his tongue slipped past her lips, licked at her tongue and gave her the taste she was craving.

  Flames licked at her insides. Perspiration dewed their skin, making their bodies slicker, hotter as Stygian’s thrusts became more powerful.

  Each driving stroke inside the tender depths of her sex dragged a near-startled cry from her lips, the sound vibrating into their kiss as Stygian gave a harsh, primal growl.

  In the next second, he was no longer propped against the pillows but lying flat as his hips drove upward, burying his cock to the very heart of her.

  Explosions began detonating inside her as that hard, fierce stroke seemed to connect with every live nerve ending brought to painful awareness.

  She wanted to scream; instead, she lost her breath. The power, the sheer depth of sensation allowed for no other response, no other function. She was trembling, ecstatic, hurled from reality to a place so brilliant, so filled with light, sensation and ecstasy that even breathing couldn’t be allowed to interfere.

  Stygian’s release felt just as powerful. The jetting spurts of his release, the strength of the swelling in his cock as it locked them together, the fierce growl that broke from his lips, assured her he was there with her. Spiraling into flames so brilliant, so white-hot that she knew a part of her—an important, intrinsic part—had just been lost to him.

  And it would have been terrifying. It should have been terrifying. But even as she lost that part of herself, she could have sworn she felt a part of him slipping into her soul as well.

  There would be no more distance, not from this man, from this Breed she had allowed to mate her.

  What had she been thinking?

  Lying against his chest, fighting to catch her breath, to still the tremors still racing through her, Liza couldn’t explain, even to herself, why she had taken that step to test the tabloid rumors.

  Ashley had warned them years ago to tread carefully when dealing with Breed males and their sexuality. She had told Chelsea, Liza, Claire and Isabelle there were hazards they could never imagine.

  Well, she could imagine them now.

  Now that he was lifting his lips from her neck, laying a gentle kiss to the tender flesh where he had bitten her once again.

  Slowly, she could feel the easing of the iron-hard knot that had filled her,

  They were both exhausted, and she was starving. Too hungry to sleep, and too damned tired to get up and cook.

  “I could have Jonas send us some food from the hotel,” he said as though reading her thoughts.

  Her thoughts, or the growling of her belly.

  “’Kay,” she mumbled.

  “You have to move, mate.” He chuckled beneath her.

  “Why? Phone’s by the bed. Use it.”

  “Sorry, baby, that line’s not near secure enough to suit me.” A quick kiss to her lips and he was rolling with her.

  Depositing her to her back, Stygian lifted himself from the bed and padded naked into the other room.

  Liza stayed where she was. Her legs were still jelly. She swore she’d fall flat on her face if she had to actually walk.

  “We have to return to the hotel.”

  It was the harshness in Stygian’s voice that had her turning to her back and staring up at him with a frown.

  “What?”

  “Get dressed. Gideon Cross was sighted at a service station just outside Window Rock an hour ago and he was asking about you and Claire. There’s no time left, Liza. We have to move.”

  “How do you know that?” Gripping the quilt to her breasts, she stared back at him, apprehension beginning to churn through her. “Why would he let himself be seen?”

  “I don’t know why,” he growled. “Ashley and Emma sighted him and called in. By the time they turned around, he was speeding away on a trail bike and hit the desert. They lost him from there.”

  He was asking about her and Claire?

  Liza could feel herself shaking from the inside out. Feel a sudden terror racing
through her.

  She could feel, sense some knowledge rising inside her. There was something she needed to tell him, but as quickly as the thought flashed across her mind, it was gone again.

  Where was that internal distance that had been so easy to find earlier?

  Where was that ability to retreat? To hide from the sudden, bone-chilling fear and the flash of a face?

  But it wasn’t a mature male with a Bengal’s slash across his face. It wasn’t demonic yellow eyes glistening with rage as in the pictures Jonas Wyatt had shown her.

  No. It was a young man. In such pain, so fierce and so determined to help them—

  Liza stumbled from the bed, suddenly sick to her stomach, capping her hand over her mouth, terrified she would lose her pride and the lunch she had eaten earlier right there on the floor.

  She wanted to hide.

  She wanted to go away.

  Oh God.

  Oh God, she had to go away.

  She had to escape and there was only one way to do it. There was only one place to hide. There was only that place so deep within herself that there was no chance of danger—

  “Liza, stop. You’re safe. Listen to me, baby, you’re safe.”

  Stygian had her. His hands were wrapped around her upper arms, holding her to her feet, his voice was calm, firm, insistent, holding her to the present when all she wanted to do was sink as deep inside herself as possible.

  “You’re safe,” he said again. “You have time for a quick shower. Dog and his team are moving in and they’ll escort us to the hotel, along with Flint and Rule, where Claire and the team sent to collect her will meet us. Everything’s fine.”

  She nodded slowly.

  Everything was fine.

  Everything but Liza. Because, in a few short minutes she had managed to lose her sense of her training, her independence and her certainty that not just Stygian but also Cullen and the team would be there to support her. For one horrifyingly dark moment, she was alone and facing almost certain death.

  She couldn’t let this happen to her. She couldn’t lose herself this way every time something happened. She couldn’t let those dark, hidden memories that weren’t exactly memories, that she knew couldn’t belong to her, erode her control.

  And she wouldn’t allow it to, she promised herself, not ever again.

  Never would she be weak again.

  CHAPTER 14

  Claire was waiting with her parents, as well as Liza’s, in the Presidential Suite, sitting still and silent, her hands folded in her lap as she stared down at them.

  Entering the room, Liza stared at the assembled Breeds and parents, their expressions quiet, savage or just emotionless.

  “Good, we’re all here.” Jonas Wyatt moved to the center of the room as Liza sat slowly in the wingback loveseat next to the matching chair her friend had taken.

  Glancing at her father, she was taken aback by the anger that glittered in his eyes, and the barely hidden fear in her mother’s.

  “What’s going on?” she questioned the director.

  She’d rather hear any bad news from someone she wasn’t certain she liked than to hear it from anyone else.

  “Gideon Cross, the fourth member of the Brandenmore Omega experiments, has arrived in Window Rock, and he’s asking specifically about the two of you. What, Ms. Johnson, do you and Ms. Martinez have to do with all this?”

  He wasn’t questioning her, he was interrogating her.

  Liza shook her head. “Nothing. I don’t know why he’s asking about us, or what he wants, any more than we know why the Genetics Council has targeted us.”

  But a part of her did know—

  “Are you aware that the county health department was broken into several weeks ago and only your and Claire’s childhood files are missing?” Jonas asked then.

  No, she hadn’t known that.

  “Dad?” She turned to her father questioningly. “Did you know?”

  The health department would surely have informed him of the situation if they had been unable to reach her.

  Of course, there was no reason why they couldn’t have reached her other than the fact that Ray Martinez’s cousin was the director there. If he had asked that she make him aware of any problems before Liza and his daughter were told, then that was exactly what would happen.

  “There was no sense in worrying you,” her father stated as though it were of no importance at all.

  She could only blink back at him.

  She wasn’t going to berate her father in front of strangers, but there was a sense of disbelief and even a sense of betrayal that he had withheld something so important.

  “We can discuss it later, Liza,” he promised her, as though he had sensed her feeling of betrayal. “I wasn’t intentionally keeping it from you.”

  Yes, he had been, but once again, she wasn’t going to confront him here and now. Not when so many interested eyes were watching, suspicious, analyzing every move, every look, every word spoken.

  Not when Stygian was keeping her from retreating, from hiding within herself by the invisible bonds of a mating she still didn’t understand.

  She turned back to Jonas, determined to hold on to the anger building inside her.

  “I want to know why the Genetics Council and Gideon Cross have targeted us just as much as you do,” she informed Jonas. “We’re nobodies, Mr. Wyatt. An assistant and a receptionist?” She all but laughed at the absurdity of it. “Why target us because of two girls no one has seen in over twelve years?”

  “Evidently, for some reason they believe the two of you are those girls, or can lead them to the girls, as I’ve already explained.”

  “Then explain it again, Mr. Wyatt.” With her gaze locked on the eerie silver eyes of the director, she stared back at him confrontationally. “I’m sick of hearing about these two girls and all the reasons why all these assholes think we can lead them to them. We don’t know them. We haven’t met them. And we sure as hell can’t help anyone find them. So tell me why the hell they keep coming after us?”

  She’d had enough.

  “If none of the above applies, Ms. Johnson, then I have no idea.”

  “And you’re a liar,” she accused him roughly as she came to her feet, her gaze slipping to Wyatt’s wife, Rachel.

  She noticed the other woman was not jumping instantly to her husband’s defense.

  Let another woman call Stygian a liar and see how fast Liza could get up in their face.

  Instead, Rachel Broen-Wyatt glanced at her husband with somber concern.

  Wyatt’s brows arched with curious mockery. “And how would you know if I were lying?” he asked. “Unless you know something that you’re not revealing.”

  Liza stared back at him, holding on to the sense of mist and memories that seemed determined to overtake her.

  Not now. Not even a hint of self-doubt could be allowed to escape or every Breed here would be on her like a pack of wild animals.

  “Stop with the games, Jonas.” It was Stygian, rather than her father, or Claire’s, who stepped from the side of the room.

  Except Stygian.

  He would stand between her and hell, she suddenly realized. A part of her could actually feel—feel him as though he were an integral part of her being—determined to protect her.

  Liza felt his hand settle at the small of her back, a warm weight that pulled her back from the slight distance she’d managed to achieve without realizing it.

  A distance she desperately needed right now. She had been deliberately receding from reality, hiding from the world or from whatever truths or knowledge she didn’t want to see until Stygian had come into her life. Now, she realized not just what a relief those retreats had been, but also how easy it would be to hide from any truth she might not want to accept. As well as the nightmares. Those hazy, terrifying dreams that had haunted her for so many years. The ones she never remembered, and hadn’t wanted to remember.

  Had she always done this? Was it because s
he didn’t want it to be real? That she didn’t want to face what she was beginning to suspect was the truth?

  “I don’t think I’m the one playing games.” Jonas sighed as the mockery eased from his expression, leaving a sort of weary acceptance. “And I don’t think your mate is either, Stygian. Whatever she knew has obviously either been stolen, or it’s a knowledge she’s unaware she even has.”

  The look the director shot her father and Ray was telling. He believed they knew the truth, and Liza was certain they did.

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Her father stepped forward, anger echoing in his tone even as Liza glimpsed a flash of guilt. “Do you think I wouldn’t know my own daughter? That I wouldn’t know if she had been replaced by another?” Heavy mockery filled his tone and marked his expression.

  “Enough, Audi,” her mother protested as she laid a hand on his arm, her fingers trembling as she caught Liza’s gaze. “This is only upsetting Liza. Let’s see what we can do to help her, rather than upsetting her.”

  The love she had always seen in her mother’s face was there. There was also all the love and acceptance she had always known. Her life, until now, had been charmed. Loving parents, an uneventful past, a good job.

  She had everything but the husband, kids and white picket fence.

  “Mr. Wyatt,” she said softly, never taking her gaze from her mother’s. “If I were who you and the Genetics Council wanted me to be, wouldn’t I know it?” She turned to the director, shaking her head at the solemn look on his face. “I wish I were Honor Roberts or Fawn Corrigan, and if I thought for a minute I could help your child, then I would. But I’ve grown tired of assuring you I’m not either of those girls, nor do I know them, know where they are, who they are, or what happened to them.”

  Breathing in roughly, she turned to Stygian. “Could we go to whatever little box of a room he’s assigned us this time? It’s nearly midnight, I’m tired and I have to be at work in the morning.” She turned to Claire. “Claire, if you’re staying here at the hotel, then I’d like to talk to you at breakfast.”

  “Claire won’t be staying,” Ray Martinez spoke up, his voice low and for the first time since they were teenagers, lacking any emotion when it came to her and Claire.

  Liza turned to her friend slowly.

  Claire’s head was down, her gaze hidden. Liza knew that look. She’d almost forgotten it. Seeing Claire so silent and still, her attention focused entirely on her hands, was a sight she hadn’t seen since before the accident.

  For the briefest second, it wasn’t Claire she saw sitting there. The girl she saw was much younger, her hair several shades darker, her body just a bit stockier.

  Blinking, the image receded, disappearing as quickly as the memories that tormented her.

  “Mr. Martinez, your daughter will be safer here.” Command naturally hardened Jonas’s tone.

  “She’s going with me.” Ray was at the point of belligerence.

  Liza had to agree with Jonas for a change. If Gideon Cross was indeed in Window Rock and asking about her and Claire, then at least for the moment, the hotel was the safest place.

  Liza turned to her father.

  Her parents were silent, her father’s gaze apologetic while Ray and Maria Martinez stood stiff, unemotional.

  “You could let her stay tonight,” she whispered to the Nation’s president. “Give the Breeds a chance to catch this Gideon Cross rather than giving him a chance to strike out at her.”

  A heavy frown filled Ray’s expression then. “I didn’t ask for your advice.”

  Liza knew that tone well. Ray was furious at the situation, and she feared that he would blame Claire, just as he did when she and Claire were children.

  She turned back to her friend.

  Claire was shaking her head, silently pleading with Liza not to begin a confrontation that would only result in additional trouble for her.

  “I’ve had enough.” Liza sighed wearily as she turned to Stygian, refusing to glance again at her father or Claire’s. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”

  “We have two suites reserved here for you,” Jonas informed her as he stepped forward once again. “Claire will be across the hall from you with Ashley and Emma Truing, if she decides to stay. Rule, Mordecai and Dog’s team will have the rooms on each side of the two of you. You’ll be protected.”

  “From what?” Liza snorted, shaking her head. “You know, Director Wyatt, you have to figure out why we’re in danger before you can eliminate the danger. Good luck with that one, by the way. Because I’ll be damned if I can figure it out.”

  She moved for the door, aware, surprisingly, of Claire moving behind her, silent, too damned silent, refusing to bid her parents farewell.

  “Liza.” It was her father who stepped forward before she could leave the room.

  As he’d done when she was a child, he stood before her, staring down at her, his expression filled with guilt. “I’ll fix it, baby girl,” he promised.

  How many times had he promised her that? He would fix it. And he always had before.

  She was terribly afraid there was no fixing this one.

  “I know you’ll try, Dad.” She nodded, her chest tight with the knowledge that he couldn’t fix the danger she w