An Inconvenient Mate Page 2

  “What are you going to do, Isabelle?” It was rare her sister called her by her full name, as everyone else did. Chelsea usually used the shortened version of Isa, despite the fact that Isabelle didn’t care much for the nickname.

  “How long was he there?” Isabelle whispered as she watched the door. She could sense the nervousness raging through the other two as Isabelle felt fear tugging at her.

  “He came in just before you walked over to the Breed,” Chelsea said quietly.

  “I should have told you the instant I saw his brother Harlen on his cell phone,” Chelsea sighed. “I should have done more than just suggest we leave.”

  Well, that answered the question of who could have called Holden.

  She distantly remembered Chelsea saying something about leaving, had recognized the concern in her sister’s voice at the time, but she had ignored it. Nothing had mattered but the Breed and connecting with him. Nothing and no one else had mattered. Her fascination with him was something so unusual for her that she had thought the concern her sister had felt had been because of her actions, not the man who had entered minutes later.

  “And he saw me?” she whispered.

  “He didn’t take his eyes off you until you left the bar with us,” Chelsea told her, anger beginning to tighten her voice. “The bastard. You should tell Dad, Isabelle. You can’t let him keep doing this.”

  “This” being the steady harassment and stalking of her. He refused to accept the fact that Isabelle hated him.

  Pushing her fingers through the long strands of her hair, Isabelle rose from the chair she had thrown herself in moments earlier and paced to the other side of the room.

  She didn’t need this. She didn’t want to face it. She had hoped she could escape the nightmare Holden Mayhew had begun in her life, but it seemed he was determined to make certain she never escaped it.

  Or him.

  For a moment the surge of terror and fury she had felt that night raced through her again. The feel of his hands, painful in their cruel insistence, holding her down. The sound of his voice as he sneered down at her, determined to take what she was unwilling to give him. The ease with which he had torn her clothes from her was humiliating. The knowledge that he had nearly carried through with his intent to molest her was as terrifying as it was enraging.

  She couldn’t forget the fact that he had almost raped her. He had almost taken from her the one thing she had wanted to save for the man she would one day give her heart to. The gift she knew she had been so ready to give to an unknown Breed tonight.

  Her virginity.

  He hadn’t completed the rape, but the terror was now such a part of her that she was shocked she had escaped the memory of it for those few minutes she had dared the undarable. A Coyote Breed.

  “I say go back downstairs and bring that big, badassed Breed back to your bed. They may not be forever material, but he looked damned interested, Isabelle. He might take care of this little problem for you too, if you asked him. Hell, from what I know about Breeds, all you would have to do is tell him about it. He would take care of it,” Liza suggested, her gray eyes filled with anger.

  Isabelle shook her head as she paced to the window. Silent, still, she stared out at the dark landscape that surrounded the back of the hotel, five stories down. In her reflection she could see the pale, drawn features of her own face, and she hated it.

  God, she wished she had killed him when she had the chance. She wished she had simply pushed Liza aside and pulled the trigger. There was a chance she could have escaped jail. She had been bruised, bloody, naked. It would have been so easy to prove the attempted rape.

  If she had been strong enough to pull the trigger. If she weren’t so terrified her father would pull the trigger after the fact, then she would go ahead and file charges against him. There was no way he could get out of it. Chelsea and Liza both had been there, and they were all employees and kin to members of the Navajo Nation Council.

  If she had filed charges, or had the courage to do it now, then she wouldn’t be reliving the nightmare on the night she should be enjoying the daring, sensual game a Coyote Breed had begun with her.

  How long had she waited to meet that one man who would make her willing to give herself at a moment’s notice? The fact that he was a Breed hadn’t really surprised her. She’d known for years that the men she had met before him didn’t have whatever it was the sensual side of her was searching for. The feminine, female part that demanded so much more from a lover than those who had presented themselves so far.

  It wasn’t that she hadn’t waited, watched, searched for the man who would awaken her sensuality.

  She had traveled the world with her father on his quests for information about his missing sister. She had met heads of state, politicians, ambassadors, geeks and physical laborers in her short stint as her uncle’s personal assistant just after he’d been voted in as chief of the Navajo Nation.

  She had dated, she had kissed, she had let herself be wined and dined, and that elusive hunger she had known had to be waiting inside her had never shown itself. That restless, waiting impatience had always followed her, had always been a part of her, until tonight. Tonight, when her gaze met a Breed and she had dared to tease him. That restlessness had eased. For a few moments, it hadn’t even existed.

  And now, she was terrified of the consequences of reaching out for what she wanted.

  Lifting her hand, she rubbed at the small spot on her ear that the Breed had nipped. She could feel the imprint of his teeth, a heated reminder of that gentle bite, a brand against her flesh.

  She didn’t even know his name.

  She hadn’t even paid attention to the gold ID designation tag on the left of his very broad chest.

  Breeds didn’t display their names as other military, law enforcement or agency operatives did. They carried a number, hiding their identity to the casual observer.

  Not that the number would have done her much good if she was searching for his identity. The only way to learn who owned the designation number was to contact the Bureau of Breed Affairs and jump through hoops, kiss ass and hope Jonas Wyatt was in a good mood the day the request hit his desk, though she had heard Wyatt was never in that good a mood. There were rumors he would even deny senators, Breed contributors and law enforcement officials that information.

  “Isabelle, you’re not listening,” Chelsea chided her as she kept her back to them. “Come on, that Breed looked capable of protecting an army. You wouldn’t even have to sleep with him to convince him to do something about Holden.”

  The fact that her sister made such a suggestion was a testament of how worried she was over the situation Isabelle was in.

  “I don’t want a protector,” she said softly, turning to the only two women who knew the fears that plagued her. “I don’t want a man in my bed because of Holden, Chelsea. I want a lover. I want more than a shield. I don’t want to be afraid of what’s going to happen when Holden finds out, or if he sees us together. I want to enjoy it while I have it so I can hold on to the memories when it’s over. This will be my first time, Chelsea, I wanted it to be special. Is that so much to ask?”

  Because few things lasted forever. Her mother had taught her that when she had died in an accident the morning Isabelle turned seven, just hours before the birthday party she and Isabelle had planned so meticiously.

  “I think Holden knows better than to confront a Breed. But that doesn’t mean it would make the Breed any less than your lover, sweetie,” Liza assured her. “Hell, Isabelle, it’s just that I can’t think of anyone who would confront a Breed over one of their lovers. I hear they’re rabid about them. And they’re even worse where their wives, or mates as they call them, are concerned.”

  More than one non-Breed male had learned the idiocy of challenging a Breed over the woman he was with, whether he was sleeping with her or not. Breed males were said to be so intensly protective of women and children that even abusive husbands and fathers ha
d felt the brunt of their displeasure. When it came to lovers and wives, though, they were fiercely territorial where other men or Breeds were concerned.

  But despite what Liza believed, if she went searching for him, if she ended the teasing game she had so wanted to play, then it would also change the fact that he wouldn’t be in her bed just for the pleasure they would share. It would be for the protection she may need. And that would completely alter every memory she could hold of any time they spent together.

  Which meant that, until she had dealt with the Holden situation, having the Breed in her bed might not be the wisest decision.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Isabelle sighed roughly. “Just let it go. Whatever Uncle Ray needed us here for, we’ll finish then go home. I should have known better than to tease a Breed anyway.”

  “And boy, did you tease him,” Chelsea said in awe. “Oh my God, Isa. I’ve never seen you like that around a man. I thought the two of you were going to catch fire and burn the place down. You were hot as hell for each other.”

  Liza shook her head, a mocking smile curling her lips. “Think what you want to, my friend, but that Breed so will not let you get away. Before your uncle is finished with these meeting with the Breeds, you’re going to be fucked six ways from Sunday and begging for mercy.”

  She would settle for once on Friday and the memories she could hold on to after it was over.

  Isabelle rubbed at her ear again. She was still hot as hell for him, and growing hotter by the second. She wished she could have stayed in the bar. She wished she could have danced with him when the band returned. She wished she’d had the courage to give him her room number.

  “Having him would be a very bad idea,” she sighed. “I shouldn’t have gone to him. Hell, I don’t even know his name.”

  “His name is Malachi,” Liza suddenly announced. “While you were sharing his drink, I asked the two Breeds at the next table who he was. The big dark one was more than happy to supply his name.”

  Isabelle’s brows rose. That was unusual for enforcers. They rarely gave information unless they had no other choice.

  “Yeah, the blue-eyed one was scowling and said something about damned Coyote hormones and the heat. Only God knows what that means, because it wasn’t hot in there. The other one, though, the darker one, his name was Stygian. He was just amused, and I swear to God I think I heard him give a wolf growl when you took that glass from his friend and finished his drink. I rather doubt he’s a feline,” she said musingly, as though more than a little interested.

  Chelsea and Liza were watching her as though they hadn’t yet figured out what had possessed her.

  She didn’t know herself what had possessed her.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she groaned as she rubbed at her ear, wishing she could rub away the warmth that reminded her of his touch. “I still can’t believe I did that.”

  “And as terrified as you are of Holden, I still can’t believe you didn’t see him come into the bar.” Chelsea was shaking head in confusion.

  Her sister was no more confused than Isabelle was herself. That simply wasn’t like her. She didn’t come on to strange men, and she sure as hell never dared a Breed of any species. They were simply too unknown, and their temperaments too uncertain. Virgins should know better, she told herself in exasperation. They were so sexually experienced it should be considered illegal. Hell, it probably was illegal. They were lethal in more ways than one, but they would be hell on a woman’s heart.

  She knew plenty of them, and she was friends with several Breed females, but they weren’t best buds. Just as the male Breeds she knew had never been lovers.

  This Coyote, though, she would have loved to give herself to. Over and over again.

  And she would have loved continuing the game tonight. They had friends in the hotel; she could have found out where his room was. Perhaps slipped something beneath his door. Dared him to find her, then gotten herself another room.

  She would have had so much fun, and if that playful glitter in his eyes was any indication, her Coyote would have played with her. He would have broken all the rules. He would have laughed at her indignation. But she would have had so much fun.

  If it weren’t for Holden and his unpredictable behavior.

  “Look, Holden doesn’t know we’re staying here at the hotel. He’s expecting us to be heading home,” Liza pointed out. “Malachi and his friends certainly are in this hotel. I checked with my friend, Mary, at registration. Malachi Morgan, Rule Breaker and Stygian Black are here as a Breed delegation to meet with your uncle.” She frowned, her gracefully arched dark blond brows lowering in concern. “Do you know what it’s about?”

  Isabelle shook her head rather than lying outright to her friends. As her uncle’s assistant, she knew she had to be careful about divulging too much confidential information. And there were things Isabelle knew that even her sister was unaware of.

  She knew why her father, uncle and grandfather thought they were there, though she wasn’t aware of the details.

  Her uncle, the chief of the Nation; her father, one of the Nation’s legal representatives; and grandfather, the Nation’s medicine man had been discussing a rogue Breed and the search for him that the Bureau of Breed Affairs was conducting.

  Isabelle had heard her grandfather’s fears that the Breeds weren’t telling the whole truth regarding why the delegation from the Bureau of Breed Affairs was there.

  They feared it had something to do with the kid the Breeds suspected the Navajo Nation Council and the Martinez family had been hiding for more than a decade.

  Isabelle didn’t know if her family knew where they were or not. She knew though, that someone in the Council was behind the disappearance of Breed children who needed to cease to exist for their own safety. It only made sense they would do the same for any human child that had been a part of Breed research. All she knew was that there had been a teenage boy and young girl who had been found by her father years ago who had disappeared from the house later. Six Navajo dressed in denim, their faces decorated with war paint, their dark eyes fierce and intent, had taken the three away, and Isabelle had never seen them again. She had never told Chelsea or Liza about them. A short time later, Isabelle had heard her father and uncle talking about another girl. One her father had brought in after the other two, but she hadn’t been able to hear the details, and she hadn’t seen the girl. She wouldn’t have known about any of it if she hadn’t been such a nosy, sneaky kid, as her older brother, Lincoln, liked to accuse her of.

  It wasn’t the first time the Navajo Nation and the Martinez family had interfered in the Genetics Council’s plans, or any of their counterparts’. The Breeds were a part of the Nation and its people. They were the sons and daughters of many of their missing that were taken by the Council. Too many of them carried their genetics to ever turn any of them away. And Isabelle knew that the three kids they had hid all those years ago had been taken from either the Council or one of their counterparts. They were part of the research, and the Martinez family and the Navajo Nation would kill to protect them.

  “The meeting is tomorrow,” Isabelle told them both while maintaining the secrets the others were unaware of. “It begins at ten. I know Dad wants to refuse their request to search for this rogue Breed because he doesn’t trust their reasons for it, while Gramps and Uncle Ray are hesitant to deny them.”

  “Maybe Ashley knows what’s going on,” Liza mused as she mentioned the Coyote female who was a regular visitor from the combined Wolf and Coyote Breed community of Haven, Colorado. “She’s in town this week. She called last week to see if I wanted to go to the spa with her while she was here.”

  Blond as well, though artificially colored, enhanced and streaked, Liza was known to spend an excessive amount of time at the spa in town pampering her hair, nails and glowing, soft skin.

  To a point, both Isabelle and Chelsea were regular customers at the spa, but Liza and Ashley spent far more time pamp
ering themselves than either of them did.

  “I’m not nearly as worried about this as I am my sister. What are you going to do about this, Isabelle?” Chelsea asked as both she and Liza stared back at her in concern. “If I know Holden, he won’t just leave you alone. He’s going to keep coming at you until he catches you off guard again. And when he does, he’ll make certain he hurts you. We both know he will.”

  For some reason, Holden Mayhew had it in his head that she belonged to him. It had taken only a single date for Isabelle to realize he was a man that wouldn’t take no for an answer. The second date, an attempt to reason with him, had proven her right.

  “I don’t know, Chelsea.” Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, she was drawn back to the window.

  “You could tell Uncle Ray,” she suggested.

  It wasn’t the first time her sister, or God forbid, her brother, Linc, had made that suggestion.

  “Or your father,” Liza pointed out with a hint of mockery.

  They all knew if she told her father, then Terran Martinez would likely attempt to kill Holden himself. And that was something she didn’t want to have to face. There was always the chance Holden would harm her father or catch her brother unaware and hurt him. Or the chance that her father or brother would kill Holden and be willing to face prison to do so. Protecting her and Chelsea was all they seemed to think about at times. As though the haunting specter of Morningstar Martinez’s kidnapping and disappearance more than thirty years before somehow threatened Isabelle and Chelsea as well.

  “I wish the two of you didn’t know about it.” Isabel sighed.

  “That would be hard to accomplish,” Chelsea drawled. “If we hadn’t shown up, sis, that night would have had a far different ending for you.”

  She would have been raped.

  It had been Chelsea who had bashed Holden over the head with a lamp and Liza who had pulled the rifle on him that her father had given her when she moved into the apartment with Isabelle and Chelsea.

  Naked, reeling from the attack, Isabelle had jerked the gun from Liza, cocked it and would have killed him herself if Chelsea hadn’t stepped between the gun and Holden. It had given him a chance to run out before she could put the rest of the female population out of any more misery that he could deliver.

  She would have shot his balls off.

  “A far different ending for him if you had just stayed out from in front of that gun,” she stated though she didn’t turn back to them. “I should have just killed him before you had a chance to step between us.”

  There were nights she wished she hadn’t allowed her sister to stop her. Nights that she had lay frightened, listening to his truck as it rumbled up their street. Her bedroom was at the front of the house, the other two at the back. Her sister and Liza never knew about the nights Holden tormented her, and she didn’t want them to know.

  If he had just let it go. If he had just left her alone. But since that night he refused to give her any peace. He was stalking her, his determination to rape her becoming an obsession she knew she was going to have to deal with soon.

  “You should tell your uncle at least,” Liza told her as Isabelle watched her reflection in the window.

  Her friend rose from her chair and collected her purse from the floor. Dressed in jeans as well and a stylish cami, the other woman drew the straps of her purse over her bare shoulder before saying, “I have to get to bed if I’m going to be up in time to be in the conference room in the morning. Think about it, Isabelle. That, or find a man, or a Breed, that Holden won’t fuck with. Otherwise, you’re going to end in far more trouble than Chelsea and I saved you from that night. It’s pretty clear Holden’s fucked up in the head, and men like that won’t let you rest until one of you is dead.”

  That was Liza. She didn’t hold much back. And though she might appear cool, or unfeeling, Isabelle knew differently. Her friend rarely let herself show emotion. She had lost her family when she was no more than a teenager and she often had nightmares over it.

  “Yeah, I have to head to bed too.” Chelsea sighed as she looked around the room. “But I’m staying right here unless tall, blond and Breedy shows up.”

  Stubborn determination tightened Chelsea’s normally pouty lips as she stared back at her sister, silently daring her to try to make her leave.

  Isabelle turned back to both women. “What would I do without the two of you?” Tears flooded her eyes though she forced them back rather than letting them fall.

  Liza had been their best friend for years. Though Chelsea was younger, Isabelle had never denied her sister the chance to tag along with them, and because of that, she had become part of the bonds of friendship that tied them together. Their friendship was set in stone, and their concern for each other was always there.

  “You would be miserable, lonely and probably living by yourself with a house full of cats instead of two crazy women,” Liza grunted as she headed for the connecting door. “Now, get some sleep. I’ll leave the door open. If you need me, just scream.”

  She moved to the connecting room as Isabelle turned to her sister. “You could just do the same.” She all but laughed at her sister’s mutinous expression. “You’re not tall, blond and Breedy, so I’m not sharing my bed with you.”

  “And you’d share it with him?” Her sister rolled her eyes. “You might have been all hot and bothered with him, but you forget, Isabelle, I’m your sister. You’re not going to give it up to him any more than you’ve given yourself to any other man. But you’re right. I can just leave the door open.” She moved to the connecting door on the opposite side of the room. “Get some sleep, sis. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  In the morning.

  Isabelle turned back to the window and stared out at the desert landscape once again. Lifting her hand, she laid it against the window and pressed her forehead into the glass.

  How many times over the years had she done just this? Stared into the night and wondered why she was so restless, wondered what she was searching for? Whom she was searching for?

  Moving her arms to cross them over her breasts, she rubbed at her upper arms and tried to chase the chill from her flesh.

  She felt hot and cold, nervous and yet so weary she couldn’t seem to hold her eyes open. But closing her eyes just brought to mind the sensual threat Malachi had made. That he would fuck her all night long. All day long. Possibly all week long.

  Her vagina clenched at the memory of his voice, his gaze, the way his body seemed to wrap protectively around her. The thought of having him wrap himself around her like that after fucking her into exhaustion had her body aching for the sensation of it.

  Yes, she wanted him in her bed. She wanted him between her thighs. But strangely, God, she didn’t even know him, but she wanted him in her life. She wanted to share that part of herself that she had never shared before.

  Her heart.

  While she had stood within his embrace, she had felt warm, protected and secure. She had felt as though nothing or no one could touch her, could harm her. And that was a very dangerous feeling for her to have.

  Because she knew better now.

  She knew better, and the monster that haunted those fears refused to let her go.

  * * *

  “Her name is Isabelle Martinez. She’s my cousin, you mangy, fucking Coyote,” Rule growled as he stared at the information on the e-pad he held. “Twenty-five years old, the daughter of Terran Martinez and Ellen Johnson Martinez. Her mother, Ellen, is deceased. She’s the personal assistant to the chief of the Navajo Nation, Ray Martinez, and she’ll be present at the meeting in the morning.”

  Malachi heard the edge of concern and anger in Rule Breaker’s voice. Didn’t it just figure. His mate was this bastard’s first cousin. Just his luck. He rubbed at the back of his neck, irritation tightening his muscles as he fought back the need to find her.

  Now.

  Son of a bitch.

  “She’s your cousin, yet, to my knowled
ge, you and Lawe have never declared your genetic ties with the Navajo Nation,” Malachi pointed out. “If you had, then it would have popped up on the cross-reference I did on my way out here. What