She shook her head. "I can't."
But she could. And she would lie about it until hell froze over, or until the Council scientists or soldiers forced the information from her, Styx thought wearily.
Whatever had happened the night her father and brother died had forever altered any trust Styx might have had a chance at inspiring where the Breeds were concerned in Storme's eyes.
She had been raised among them, but she hadn't seen the horror of their lives, she had instead seen the horrors of what they could be, Navarro had once told him. She was brought into the labs and allowed only into training areas, or the cells where the most violent of the Breeds were kept for research and experimentation.
During the rescue of that lab, it was suspected that Coyote Breeds had killed JR and James Montague, possibly as Storme watched from some hidden point. Jonas was certain she must have seen it, based on the terror his Enforcers had scented on her each time they or Council Coyotes became close.
Styx would have to fight that fear to get to the bottom of the reasons why the mating heat seemed to be blocked between them. This was a problem he hadn't thought of. Hell, as far as he knew, this had never happened before. Never had a mate not been mated, yet his wasn't.
He hadn't wanted a mate. He hadn't been ready for one until he'd realized he could claim her.
Now he was determined, no matter what it took, no matter the lies he had to tell, that she would be his mate.
Leaning back, forcing himself to allow her a few fragile inches of space, he gave her what he knew was a convincing, charming grin.
"Lass," he said, forcing the brogue back into his voice. "Such stubbornness is endearing and, I must say, sexy as hell."
She stared back at him in disbelief as Jonas and Rachel narrowed their gazes on him.
"Sexy?" Confusion filled her voice.
"Aye, sexy as hell," he promised her. "I verra much look forward to seducing those secrets from you. Verra verra much."
Her eyes widened, and the terror rose and ebbed several times before he caught the faintest hint of feminine heat flavoring her scent.
He wouldn't let her forget the pleasure he had given her. He wouldn't let her forget the safety she found in his arms, nor would he allow her to resist the hunger he knew lay between them. A hunger that raged just beneath the surface and threatened to burn out of control if mating heat ever took its grip on them.
She would be his, or he would give up his chocolate for life.
Unfortunately, he feared that if his mate had her way, he might be giving up his chocolate.
As the Range Raider pulled into the receiving entrance of Haven, they pulled to a stop several feet from the light utility vehicles used within the main grounds.
Gripping Storme's arm, Styx helped her from the Raider and steered her firmly toward the lighter security vehicles. It was then his wee little mate did something he had to admit he hadn't expected, though he should have. They were at the entrance to Haven, the gates swinging open, Breeds guarding them, the flicker of lights beyond drawing his gaze. Behind them was the freedom Storme felt was her only salvation.
A salvation she wasn't yet ready to see for the illusion it was.
With a graceful twist and arc, she broke the hold he had on her arm, pulled his weapon from its holster and had it trained on his face.
Breeds moved into position silently, the click of weapons suddenly the only sound in the night as he gazed into the desperate, fear-ridden gaze glittering within her paper white face.
He looked from her to the weapon, before shaking his head in regret. "Good night, lass."
In the next breath, she crumpled in his arms, the weapon falling to the ground as he caught her. Lifting the slight burden into his arms, he gazed into the trees beyond.
He didn't see the shadowed Breeds there, he didn't see the tranquilizer that pierced the back of her neck. He had the proof they were there though, in the now sleeping form of the young woman he held in his arms, and the knowledge that she would risk certain death to escape him.
It was a hell of a position to find himself in.
CHAPTER 4
Styx stood just inside the bedroom door while Dr. Nikki Armani, the fierce, often irritable Wolf Breed expert geneticist and physician completed her examination of the young woman, as the sun began to rise over the cabin he owned within the Wolf Breed community.
He, a Wolf Breed, created to kill and to die painfully, owned a cabin. His name was on the deed. He, who hadn't been created to have even a name that he could lay claim to, claimed this cabin, a vehicle, a bank account and clothing.
And here he stood, watching as a woman slept in a bed he had never brought another woman to, and he found that the possessiveness he had once thought he felt about that bed was noticeably absent.
Styx had detected the low-grade infection from the weeks-old wound on her ankle as he held her in the hotel bed. He'd noticed the scratches on her arms and shoulders, the bruises on her ribs. The proof that the past weeks of running had taken a toll on her health.
She hadn't been eating well, she hadn't slept enough. She was on the point of exhaustion, and if he hadn't taken her when he had, then there would have been no way she could have continued to outrun the Coyotes the Genetics Council had sent for her.
"I wish I could kill every f**king Council member, soldier and scientist that was a part of this," Nikki cursed as she cleaned a particularly nasty scratch on Storme's hip.
"Bastards. She's run herself to exhaustion."
"How's she doin', Doc?" he finally asked when the doctor gently tucked a quilt around her shoulders.