"The only weapon you have, bitch, is a blade," he sneered. "What do you think you're going to prick with that?"
She felt the weariness, the acceptance. If they came too close, she would prick herself. She would kill herself before allowing this Breed to take her.
"Hell, lads, what ye doin' cornerin' a pretty lass like this in the dark?" Mocking, smooth and sexy, the Scots brogue had the Coyotes facing her stilling, even as Storme restrained the curse rising to her lips.
How had he managed to find her so quickly?
Storme turned, careful to keep both the Coyotes and the newcomer coming from behind her in the corner of her eye, and watched as Styx Mackenzie moved from the back entrance of the bar into the alley.
"Well isn't this my lucky night?" she drawled.
"I was rather thinkin' the same thing, lass," he chuckled. "See now, wouldn't ye have done better to have continued the dance we were havin' inside?"
Her brows lifted. "I was definitely doing much better."
He chuckled patiently at the admission, and the sound, deep and filled with warmth, had her stomach clenching.
The weapon he carried loosely in the crook of his arm was big, heavy and lethal.
The fully automatic laser rifle would put holes in a Breed that would leave nothing left to identify, let alone survive.
She let her gaze flick to it slowly before returning to the blue, amused gaze. "Hell of a weapon," she drawled. "Where were you hiding it?"
"The jacket at the table." He grinned as he shrugged his shoulders to indicate the leather jacket he hadn't been wearing on the dance floor. "I never leave home or a bar without it."
She almost laughed. She wanted to. The small spurt of amusement was out of place, and definitely out of character for her.
"You're making a mistake, Wolf," Farce growled, but she heard the defeat in his voice.
"Lad, anytime I'm rescuin' a pretty little thing from your clutches, then my time's not bein' wasted." Smooth as aged whiskey, rough, filled with determination, that brogue seemed to caress the senses despite the fact that there was nothing about Breeds that she considered being the least bit caressable.
"Run along now, puppies, and I'll pretend to be the nice Breed everyone thinks I am and let you live for another day."
Storme searched for a way to escape, and came to the conclusion that she was stuck between a rock and a hard place, in the most literal sense.
"This isn't over." Farce directed his comment to her as she watched Dog slowly disappear into the shadows as though he had never been there.
Storme kept her mouth shut. The Wolf Breed standing so imposing and determined to her right seemed to have the bluff on the bastard to her left.
That meant the Coyotes were Council controlled. She knew Styx was a part of the Wolf Breed community, Haven. Since he appeared less than friendly with but certainly familiar with Farce, it answered the question of who the Coyote's handlers were.
Farce snarled back at her, his canines gleaming in the dim light before he too slowly eased back and disappeared around the side of the building.
Running was an option now.
"Lass, they're just waitin' until you try to run," Styx warned her as he lowered the weapon before moving to the lethal black motorcycle she had only now realized was parked in the shadows. "I can give ye a ride wherever you're goin' if you like. I didn't rescue your pretty self just to see them jump you again later. They don't like losing a play pretty when they pick one out."
She stared at him in confusion. This Breed had been tracking her for nearly as long as Farce had been, yet he acted as though he didn't know her, just as he had acted inside.
She almost smiled.
"Ye know, the scent of your fear is being overshadowed by the vaguest scent of pure devilry." His smile flashed in the darkness. "Come on now, I've work to be doing tonight as ye've already turned me down. Rejection tends to depress me, ye know. I'd hate tae be left in tears afore the night is over."
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. The man didn't seem to have a serious bone in his body or a lick of bloody sense. Which was more or less what she had already decided over the years as she followed him online.
"You never did tell me exactly what that work is." She didn't budge as he watched her expectantly.
He grunted at that. "Chasin' shadows if you be askin' me. I've been on the same assignment for a year now, and I've had enough of shadows." He sighed as though truly fed up with chasing her.
"You're a Breed. I thought Breeds enjoyed chasing things?" She posed the question while making certain she did nothing to deliberately deceive him. She was very well aware that Breeds could clearly scent emotions, deceit and lies.
"Aye, I'm a Breed. As for chasin' shadows, I've always preferred more entertainin'
prey and lass's that don' run near so fast." He laughed back at her as he pushed the weapon into a compartment at the side of the cycle's base before turning back to her.
"Come now, don't leave me to worry about ye for the rest of the night. I'd like to head to my bed for a wee bit of a nap sometime before dawn."
"Lost a woman, did you?" She stepped closer. It was possible that he didn't know what she looked like now, that the neutralizer she wore had hidden her scent enough that he had no idea who she was. That and the temporary hair color, the colored contact lenses. She could get lucky.