The scene seemed surreal. The lightning, the rain sheeting around them. His exotic, fierce expression framed by heavy, ribbon-straight black silken hair that fell around his face and wet from the rivulets of rain running over it.
Eyes wide, shuddering, she could only stare up at him as his hand lifted, palm cupping her cheek, the intense warmth of his touch rushing through her as his thumb stroked softly over her lips.
“Amaya.” He spoke so softly she barely heard, the dark, Asian flavor of his tone shocking her as he whispered the nickname he had given her years ago. “Are you ready to get out of the rain now?”
“Navarro.” His name was a harsh gasp, relief pouring through her, weakening her as the warmth of his hard body began to seep through the saturated clothing between them.
“Navarro, we have to move.” Harsh, a male Feline growl rumbled in the night.
Mica tried to swing around, her heart dropping to her stomach as fear suddenly tore through her again.
“Can you run?” The harsh question was a grating, furious sound that seemed suddenly to rumble in Navarro’s powerful chest.
For a Breed it was said didn’t growl as others did, that came awful close to a growl.
A quick nod as he caught her hand, turned and began pulling her through the rain-lashed night.
Shadows reached out from the buildings around them, twisting fingers of darkness colliding with the rain-dimmed glow of sparse streetlights interspersed with the shadows through the alleys.
Mica was aware of the figure moving behind them, though she’d only managed to catch a quick glimpse of a dark figure. Features were impossible to see or to recognize through the sheets of moisture.
She could feel the presence at her back, a prickling awareness that kept her nerves on edge.
“We’re almost there,” Navarro assured her, as though he could sense, could somehow feel, the fear that continued to rise inside her.
Damp weather was supposed to affect a Breed’s sense of smell. If he could still smell her fear, then there was the chance the Coyote that had attacked her, or any working with him, could catch her scent as well.
Forcing herself to tamp down the emotion, to bury it in that same dark, hidden corner of her mind where she tried to hide things from Cassie, wasn’t easy. Terror was like an oily, vicious specter shadowing her, one that seemed to refuse to allow her to escape.
She was with Navarro now though. She wasn’t alone. That was the lifeline she held on to, the fragile thread of awareness that kept her centered as she began to push the fear to that enclosed place where it couldn’t be detected.
He was the one Breed she should be wary of personally, but she’d always known, from the first day their eyes had met, that he would never allow anyone to hurt her.
I’ll protect you, Mica. I swear, as long as I breathe, I’ll keep you from harm.
That promise made, as explosions ripped through Haven’s central courtyard on a night meant to be celebrated, echoed through her mind.
He had sworn to protect her. Covering her body with his own as Breed traitors attempted to kidnap Storme Montague, one of the newly mated women within Haven, and Cassie, he had sheltered her from the danger.
How many times had she replayed that night in her nightmares? Each time though, the terror turned to something else, to something softer, hotter. To something that only frightened her more, on a deep, intensely personal level.
He made her want him. Nightmares turned to erotic fantasy whenever she dreamed of that night. To the sensation of his lips caressing her ear, then her cheek. To the feel of his lips at first only brushing against hers, then taking the curves with a hungry, primal passion she couldn’t seem to deny.
“Fuck!” The furious curse had Mica jerking her head around, desperate to see what had caused the exclamation.
She had only a second to catch a glimpse of lights turning into the alley before Navarro pulled her quickly into a deep, sheltered recess between two buildings, before pressing her into the brick wall.
“Sons of bitches couldn’t have picked a warm night for this bullshit, could they?” he growled at her ear as Mica felt his arms sheltering her, the long leather coat he wore wrapping around her as he tucked her head against his chest.
Beneath the coat, he was heavily armed, an arsenal strapped into the lining of the leather covering and holstered beneath his arm, at his waist and thigh.
She could feel the cold metal of the automatic submachine gun holstered at his side by a leather harness. An automatic handgun was holstered at his lean hips, while he carried one of the lightweight, powerful laser-powered defense weapons holstered at his left side.
A knife was strapped to each thigh, and God only knew what else he was armed with.
“Cougar, do you have visual?” she heard him murmur, no doubt speaking into one of the small, secured ear sets the Breeds used for communication.
“I have him. Just what the hell we needed, Farce’s little brother, Loki, on our asses,” he grunted a second later.
Farce, a Coyote that had been working for the remaining members of the Genetics Council, had ended up dead weeks before, when he had gone against another Wolf Breed. His little brother, Loki, who carried the mythical name with pride and did his best to live up to it, was rumored to have sworn vengeance for his brother’s death.
“Coyote’s night out,” she said, trying for weak humor as a shudder raced through her.
She could often trap the emotions inside, but that didn’t mean they didn’t still affect her.
“You have no clue, baby,” Navarro sighed as she felt his hand stroke up her back.