Stygian's Honor Page 5

  g into the front passenger seat and giving the dark Breed behind the wheel the order to drive.

  There was something almost surreal about the ride.

  Sitting in the leather comfort of the luxurious vehicle, Liza closed her eyes and tried to tell herself this was going to work out. Everything was going to be okay.

  Her assurances were quickly wiped away by another flash of an image.

  A limo, the seats luxurious and soft, the couple sitting across from her grief-stricken.

  The older woman held her hand: her incredibly small, pale, childlike hand.

  Liza jerked her eyes open, her head turning to stare through the dark window as the vehicle made its way toward her home.

  What was she seeing, and where were those images, those memories, coming from? Why were they suddenly flashing through her head?

  What was happening to her?

  Gideon watched.

  He was an excellent watcher.

  It was one of the things he had been trained to do as a child, but it was also an inherent part of his genetics.

  Concealed in the upper thickly needled branches of a towering fir tree, he watched the suite Jonas and his family resided in.

  They’d found most of the bugs he’d had put in place. Getting them into the room to begin with had been a pure bitch.

  There were two left.

  One was concealed in the electronics of the video and television screen—thank goodness, he could still see and hear most of what went on—and one in the connecting living suite.

  That one, he refused to engage just yet. The babe was there. The babe and her mother, and during this phase of the serum’s effect on her little body…his lips tightened.

  He couldn’t bear to hear her pain.

  There were too many memories there.

  Too many dark images of another child who stared up at him, tears in her eyes as she valiantly fought to be brave.

  He didn’t blink.

  His eyes didn’t fill with tears.

  But his throat tightened with an emotion that came only when those dark memories intruded once again. Emotions he refused to let in again, regrets he refused to revisit.

  “Her shadows have evaporated. Their location was deserted by the time our teams arrived.”

  Gideon wasn’t certain of the face that went with the voice. He didn’t dare risk activating the video portion of the bug at the moment.

  “Then we have no idea who they are, or what she’s a part of,” Jonas growled.

  “Not yet,” the Breed answered. “We’re working on it.”

  “Let me know the minute you have news,” Jonas ordered.

  A second later, the sound of a door closing was heard then silence filled the room.

  Gideon risked checking the vid-device strapped on his wrist then.

  The picture came through: the image of Jonas standing at the glass sliding doors, his back to the vid-screen, hands propped arrogantly on his hips.

  He was a worthy if challenging adversary.

  There were days Gideon wondered…

  Jonas turned, his gaze centering on the screen as his lips quirked.

  “Fucking Peeping Tom,” he said, his tone icy. “Come out, Gideon, I dare you.”

  Deactivating the monitor, Gideon grimaced.

  Hell, he hadn’t expected that.

  Somehow, Jonas had known that bug was there.

  Gideon couldn’t trust any of the information he’d gained in the past few hours now. Not that much had really come through.

  Liza Johnson knew nothing, and the Alphas of the Breed communities were all in one location.

  Not a fucking sliver of information was worth using now.

  It was almost amusing.

  He had been butting heads with Jonas Wyatt in one way or another for two years now. They were pretty even actually, when it came to wins and losses against each other.

  He thought Jonas might see it another way.

  Gideon had information Jonas wanted, information he thought he needed.

  Gideon could tell him there was nothing anyone knew—even Honor and Fawn and Judd—that could help him.

  Brandenmore had injected the child, there was no doubt about that. The little girl Jonas had taken as his own had become an experiment and had never stepped into a lab.

  “Come on, Gideon.” The audio link was still activated. “I know you still have a link in here. Face me. Face me with what you have and I’ll help you with what you need.”

  Gideon deactivated the link.

  He didn’t want to hear the dares, the challenges or the child’s whimpering cries.

  Jonas Wyatt had nothing he wanted—

  Yet.

  CHAPTER 4

  Maneuvering the classic Harley through the crowded parking lot of the Desert Rose, Stygian let a grimace twist his lips at the thought of entering the building.

  He was a solitary sort of Breed. He had rarely worked with more than a four-man team until joining the Bureau of Breed Affairs.

  He didn’t like crowds and he didn’t like the press of dozens or more human bodies bearing down on him, as they seemed to do in nightclubs and bars.

  But tonight, Liza was in there.

  His mate.

  Son of a bitch, he hadn’t expected to find his mate in this sunbaked land.

  Hell, he hadn’t expected to find his mate at all, actually.

  Parking the Harley and engaging the anti-theft security, he stepped from the motorcycle, all too aware of the gazes locked on him.

  Customers had spilled from the bar, some to socialize, a few to make their way to their vehicles, while two couples in the shadows had been making out with heated lust. Hell, if he had Liza stretched out in the back of a pickup, the last thing he’d have on his mind was some mangy Breed who had just pulled in.

  Pushing back the long strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead, he made his way to the entrance and stepped inside. Narrowing his gaze, he searched the interior until he found her.

  A growl rumbled in his throat at the sight of the four men she was sitting with.

  Deputy Cullen Maverick, a former Special Forces demolitions expert; Steven Jacobs and his brother, a communications expert on the same team, Reever Jacobs. Next to them was a man even the Breeds hadn’t managed to pull information up on yet. The one they had all agreed had to be the Bengal Judd, Klah Hunter.

  He’d shown up nine years before in Window Rock and survived doing odd jobs. He never stayed at one job long, and he had never made many friends outside the Jacobs brothers and the deputy.

  Claire and Chelsea Martinez each sat on one side of Liza, and all seven of the group were leaning in close and talking low.

  Stygian had noticed, though, that Klah Hunter’s gaze had locked on him the minute he stepped into the bar.

  Moving across the room, Stygian watched as they all straightened and Liza’s head slowly turned toward him.

  Long strands of what he knew had to be living silk, dark blond, highlighted and streaked, her hair flowed over her shoulder and fell across the thin navy blue silk material covering her breasts.

  She’d come to the bar straight from the office. The slim white skirt and dark blue silk blouse looked as damned sexy now as it had when he’d watched her leave the house that morning.

  As he neared their table, the four men watched him warily.

  Stygian grabbed a chair, flipped it around and angled it in beside Liza.

  Pure dislike entered several of the men’s gazes.

  Straddling the chair, he leaned against the back and met each of their gazes firmly.

  “What are you doing here?” Liza hissed as the silence around the table became distinctly uncomfortable.

  “Even Breeds enjoy a cold beer every now and then.” He let a grin touch his lips as the perfect arch of her brows lowered in a fierce frown.

  “I bet they do.” Chelsea’s grin was filled with teasing enjoyment as she sat back and glanced between him and Liza. “Acc
ording to Malachi, they enjoy messing with our heads even more.”

  Stygian had to chuckle. Chelsea Martinez wasn’t one to keep her smart-ass thoughts to herself, or to sugarcoat much.

  “That’s always an enjoyable exercise,” he agreed with a quick grin as he caught Liza’s frown turning to a glare in his periphery. “Though, to be honest, I much prefer a more straightforward approach.”

  “Oh, really?” Liza muttered. “And how do you manage that? I thought Breeds were allergic to honesty.”

  He could see how she might feel that way after her meeting with Jonas two days before.

  “Not so much allergic as merely wary.” Leaning his arms against the top rail of the seatback, he turned his head to her, ensuring she glimpsed the arousal raging inside him.

  Two days.

  He’d managed to keep his distance for two miserably long days, and he’d had enough.

  She was his.

  His mate.

  She would be his woman.

  His world and his life.

  If he could convince her to take that chance.

  Well, if he could manage to steal a kiss from those sweet lips.

  It might have been easier if he wasn’t aware of the fact that Isabelle Martinez, mate to Malachi Morgan, had already warned her friends of the mating phenomena.

  “You’re not wanted here, Breed.” Klah Hunter kept his voice low, but his tone was nothing if not dominant and filled with warning.

  Stygian didn’t bother to even glance his way.

  “Dance with me.” Staring into Liza’s eyes, he knew if he didn’t have her against him soon, he was likely to end up in a fight instead.

  “If she wanted to dance with you, then she would have invited you,” Klah snapped. “This is a get-together for friends only, Breed. You’re in no position to apply for the title.”

  “I’m not applying for the position of friend,” he assured the other man—Breed?

  He didn’t bother to explain the position he was after. Hell, he wasn’t picky at this point. He’d take missionary if that was all she was offering.

  Though, he was partial to doggie style.

  He was certain that wasn’t exactly the sort of position any of them had in mind, though.

  “What exactly do you have in mind then?” Cullen Maverick spoke up as he leaned back in his chair and lifted the frosted bottle of beer to his lips. “Or should I just go ahead and kill you for thinking you can have more than Liza might want to give?”

  “Whoa, enough.” Liza turned on them all then. “I don’t need bodyguards nor do I need anyone to defend my honor.”

  The four men turned as one to frown back at her.

  The air of sudden male dominance had a snarl threatening to pull at Stygian’s lips.

  His woman.

  His mate.

  He’d never allow another male to order her to do anything. Especially anything in direct opposition to what he wanted.

  “They’re not telling us the truth in regards to why they’re here, Liza, you know that as well as the rest of us do,” Klah argued. “He has no business around you.”

  “Maybe he has other things in mind.” Chelsea grinned then. “Things that are none of your business, Klah.”

  Liza’s chair scraped back from the table, a hint of fear and nervousness suddenly scenting the air around her.

  “Let’s dance then,” she muttered as he rose to his feet beside her. “Instead of starting the fight you seem intent on.”

  “Me?” He almost laughed as she grabbed his wrist. He allowed her to give the impression that she was pulling him to the dance floor. “That was your friends, baby, not me.”

  The fast, hard beat of the country-western music faded away and as they stepped to the dance floor, the band eased into a slow, sensual tune instead.

  He caught the little muttered curse as it slipped free of her glossy lips and couldn’t hold back a low chuckle as he took her into his arms.

  “How did you know I was here?” she asked. Her small hands pressed against his chest almost defensively.

  The fact that she felt she would have to protect herself against him, her mate, had him tensing in regret.

  Her fingertips were rubbing against the fine cotton of his shirt though, making him wonder if she was searching for the warmth of his chest. That gesture, small though it was, gave him hope that perhaps a part of her knew she could trust him.

  “I make it my business to know where you are. And who you’re with.”

  Tightening his arm around her back, he brought her closer, luxuriating in the sweet response of her body, the heavy throb of life in the vein at her throat and the hunger he could scent building in her slight body.

  The need to cover her, to push inside the liquid heat of her pussy was going to make him crazy.

  “Why do you make it your business?” Confusion filled her now. “I’m nothing to you, Mr. Black.”

  Oh, how wrong she was.

  Stygian stared into the gray of her eyes and sensed something more than the bravado she was fighting so hard to bolster as he held her against him.

  “Perhaps I’d like for that to change.”

  Liza stared up at the Breed, feeling their bodies swaying in perfect accord, before she was even aware that she was moving in time to his much larger body.

  She couldn’t believe he’d just said that. That he’d made his intentions so clear, so quickly.

  “And if that’s not what I want?”

  “I would find that very hard to believe,” he retorted. “As you said as we left the hotel, it would be impossible to miss the fact that you are very interested.”

  “Oh God, I hate Breeds and their sense of smell.” She had to tear her eyes from his, but she couldn’t force her body away from him.

  “Come out with me tonight.” It was more a demand than a request. “We could just ride around awhile. Maybe find a nice place to stop and talk.”

  Her lips parted to refuse. She couldn’t afford to become involved with him.

  Not with him or any other man.

  “I brought the motorcycle.” His head lowered, his lips at her ear, the warmth of his breath teasing the sensitive flesh. “The wind in your hair. The night surrounding us.”

  “Danger stalking us? A Breed who’s obviously searching for a ghost and believes I could lead him to her?” she asked, incredulous. “How intelligent does that sound?”

  “Do you think I wouldn’t protect you? That where I took you I would allow you to be in any danger?”

  “Control the world that easily, do you?” She snorted. “Besides, I’m not exactly dressed for a motorcycle ride.”

  But he could feel the desire inside her to go with him. To take that chance.

  “Talk to Chelsea, have her exchange clothing with you,” he suggested. “Come on, Liza, be brave,” he dared her.

  He sensed her need to do just that, to step outside of herself. The animal inside him could feel that need.

  That dark, inner core of a woman so locked down, so hidden inside her subconscious that he wondered if even she was aware of it.

  “Why me?” The question was whispered against his ear as he bent closer to her, nuzzling her hair from her neck as he moved her around the dance floor.

  “Why you?” The rumble of the growl was involuntary at the slender column of her neck as he spoke. “Because I’ve been so hard for you, and only you, for the past two days, that I swear my dick is going to permanently have the imprint of my jeans zipper.”

  Her breath caught.

  Liza felt the overwhelming need to push her own boundaries, to ask Chelsea to change clothes with her, to slip onto the back of his motorcycle and escape into the night with him.

  “I want you, Liza,” he said. “My lips on yours, slow and easy, then deeper. Harder. I want to lick your lips, taste them. Then, I want to taste the rest of you. Every inch of your sweet body.”

  Every inch?

  Her thighs clenched, her clit swelling, moisture ga
thering between the folds of her pussy at the thought of him touching her—tasting her—there.

  “I can’t do this.” She didn’t know if she could allow herself to take what he was offering. The implications of the cost could well be more than she could bear.

  She could sense it. Deep, deep inside herself she could sense the knowledge that by allowing Stygian to take her, she would be destroying herself in ways she never wanted to face.

  “No.” The music eased away as she suddenly pulled from his arms, forcing herself away from him as she gave her head a hard shake. “I can’t do this. I just can’t—”

  Catching her arm as she turned away from him, Liza found herself facing a full-grown, dominant, lust-driven Breed intent on having the woman who dared arouse him in such a way.

  “This isn’t good-bye,” he assured her. “We’re not finished. I came here to spend the evening with you, Liza. And I mean to do just that.”

  As a fast tune began blaring from the band, Stygian shot the singer a hard glare before leading Liza from the dance floor. The fact that he wasn’t pleased with the music was more than apparent.

  The fact that he wanted her was even more apparent.

  Malachi had warned her that a Breed, once certain that the woman he wanted was as drawn to him, could only be turned away if he knew the object of his lust, his affection, or whatever they called it, if her objections were stronger than her need.

  Breeds didn’t force the sexual aspects, they didn’t stalk, nor did they harass. They charmed, cajoled and teased. They built the hunger and the need until their potential lovers fell willingly into their arms.

  He’d been a fount of information after he and Isabelle had become lovers.

  Or mates.

  A tremble of trepidation skated across her nerve endings as he led her back to the table where her friends waited.

  The plans she and the team were discussing before his arrival would have to wait. Stygian was on the prowl and he’d found his prey. He wouldn’t be walking away anytime soon.

  The problems inherent in such a decision on his part had her stomach tightening with dread. The team had already lost Isabelle due to her relationship with Malachi and her vow to never reveal what she had been a part of to anyone, especially a lover or husband outside the network.

  The fact that Malachi was outside the network and not approved to be privy to that information had hurt them all. It was a decision no one on the team could make though, and permission had yet to be offered.

  As they reached the table, Liza made her next decision quickly without taking the time to consider the repercussions of it.

  “I’m going home,” she told them, feeling Stygian stiffen beside her.

  Cullen, Steven, Reever and Klah all turned accusing stares on Stygian.

  “Yeah, I think I’ll head back too.” Chelsea rose to her feet and pulled her purse from the floor. “Are you riding with me?” She looked up at Stygian with a grin. “Or with him?”

  “You.” Jerking her light blazer from the back of her chair, she thanked God Chelsea had made her own quick decision.

  “Then I guess I’m heading back too, because I came with them.” Claire joined them, moving from her chair and collecting her purse and light jacket. She too was dressed in the clothes she’d worn to work that morning: a light cotton blouse and slim, sedate skirt.