by Lora Leigh
on somber.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered, turning back, the wispy images of a past that made no sense rushing over her again.
The two girls, she and Claire, were laid out on one side of the fire. On the other side—she could feel herself trembling as the memory rushed over her—were two other girls.
Claire turned to look at her—the Claire that wasn’t broken and bloody—“I’ll never see him again,” she whispered as a tear fell down her cheek. Linking her fingers with her, Liza tried to give her friend comfort where only confusion and fear existed. “Perhaps it’s for the best,” Liza whispered. “Perhaps it’s the only thing that will keep us alive.”
The memories, hazy and fragile as they were, drifted away. But she wasn’t left with nothing to fill the place of where the memory had been. It remained there, a part of her now, pulled from the deepest reaches of her subconscious and now a part of her conscious memories.
She wasn’t Liza Johnson. Liza Johnson had died that night and Honor Roberts had taken her place.
She didn’t have the memories, yet. She had no idea how to help Jonas Wyatt, but what she did have was Orrin Martinez’s promise.
“One day, named for that which few men know—Honor—One day, you will realize, child, you have lived up to all the dreams your father had when he gave you a name of such distinction. Know now, your heart and your soul resonate with it, and into this new life you will take with you the knowledge that will ease the burden of loss for the parents who had such hope, and one day, you will fill the heart and the soul of one who never truly believed he had such.”
Stygian.
She filled his heart and soul, just as he filled hers. But there were so many other dreams, and so many others who were a part of her. And admitting to who, to what she was—
What she was—
Oh God, oh God—
“Liza!” Stygian caught her before her knees could collapse, before the shock could steal not just her strength but also her control. “Liza, are you okay?”
“Get me out of here.” She was going to be sick. “Get me out of here, Stygian.”
And he did just that. No questions, no demands. Lifting her into his arms and carrying her from the remnants of the sweat lodge, he took her away from the past and back into the present.
Nothing could steal the memory of those dark, terrifying days just before the ritual that had taken from her and Fawn the nightmares of their lies and had instead given them the peace and sheltered existence that Liza Johnson and Claire Martinez had been so determined to forsake.
And now, nothing could steal from her the realization of why they had been forced to make such a horrifying decision.
She could never again hide from what she was.
CHAPTER 17
But, it wasn’t as easy as Stygian had hoped it would be, and Liza wasn’t cooperating when it came to explaining exactly what had happened in that damned desert.
She shut down on him.
It wasn’t the distance he had experienced from her before. That complete emotional and spiritual distance, which assured his animal instincts that she was nothing more than a perfect, breathing shell.
This was different, but no less disconcerting. It was as though a part of her was so focused on something else to the point that there was no room for anything or anyone else.
That focus had completely eradicated the mating heat, and it was infuriating him.
The animal that lived under his skin was enraged by it.
His cock was just tortured. He was so damned hard, so fucking hungry for the taste of her, the touch of her, that it was about to drive him insane.
Two days later, Stygian could feel his frustration level moving into overload and threatening his control to the point that it was becoming dangerous.
Where was the mating heat and how had she managed to dampen it when no other mate had managed to do so?
Heat, like in sex on a near-constant level?
Heat, like his mate dying for his touch twenty-four-seven.
Heat in the fact that they were supposed to fuck like minks and be unable to stay the hell away from each other?
Fucking.
Fighting.
Talking.
Bonding.
That was mating heat.
Where the hell was the mating every other Breed experiencing it got to have, yet it seemed was being denied him?
It wasn’t that he wasn’t experiencing it, because God knew he was.
His tongue was so damned swollen it felt like a fucking golf ball was wedged beneath his tongue on each side. The heavy throb of the fluid contained within it was almost painful, and each small droplet of the moisture that pushed free of it to infuse his system was torturous in its effect on his body.
His cock was so swollen and hard it was damned near unbearable. The heavy veins pulsed with blood and lust, tightening to the point that he knew there would be no ease without the touch of his mate. And that touch didn’t seem forthcoming. The lust that should have been burning to tortured hunger inside her wasn’t happening.
At least, it hadn’t been happening for the past two days or nights.
Confusion, fear and a latent pain filled his mate’s mind to the point that it seemed there was no room for lust. That inner focus, confusion and fear that swirled through her senses was so intense that he couldn’t break through it.
And she refused to discuss it.
She wouldn’t consider discussing her past, the doubts he had sensed inside her concerning who she was, or what she felt or remembered now.
And he blamed Jonas for that. Blamed him for it to the point that he could barely converse with the man civilly. If Jonas had kept his damned plan for betraying Liza to himself, then perhaps, Stygian thought, he would have had a chance to bind his mate to his heart and a chance to help her through the emotionally complex situation she was now facing.
Stygian wanted nothing more than to touch his mate, to kiss her. To love her.
To ease the fear and uncertainty tearing her apart, which was keeping her out of his arms.
The bonding that came with the mating heat was something he had looked forward to in the years since he’d learned of the phenomenon. That chance to so be a part of a woman; her heart, her soul, her life; that he knew he was no longer a singular person, but rather one part of a whole. Fused so tightly to his mate that their souls were one entity.
Yet, that wasn’t there with himself and Liza.
As though the mating heat itself had suddenly stalled halfway through the process.
He could smell her need; it was there, buried beneath her confusion. He could smell her arousal, and just a hint of the mating heat, but it was the same as it had been when he’d felt her retreat so far inside herself that he wasn’t certain how to find her.
The spiritual distance was no longer there, as it had been before. Instead, it seemed all the emotions, the fear, the pain and confusion that she had kept at bay over the years were tearing through her instead. And he had no idea how to help her. No idea how to bring her back to him.
Nothing he’d tried had worked in the past two days.
She didn’t rise to any verbal sparring he attempted.
She evaded his touch and asked for time with such deepening pain that pulling back to give her that time was killing him.
She was holding herself in such lockdown that he knew that finding the key to release whatever she was fighting to hide within herself might be impossible.
And he knew, the animal instincts that governed him knew, if he didn’t do something soon, he might well lose her forever.
Those animal instincts were raging. As though the animal he could have been was pacing furiously inside him, the tension from the situation building to the point that release, in some form, was becoming a necessity.
Pacing the sitting room restlessly, he turned to her at the sound of the bedroom door opening, his gaze narrowing on the dove gray cotton lounge pants a
nd matching camisole.
The tank top smoothed over her pert breasts, hugging the lush curves just enough to cause his mouth to water. And fuck him, but her nipples were hard. Peaked and swollen beneath her bra, pointing against the lace beneath and refusing to hide from his gaze.
The need to lick those hard little points and burn the tender nerve endings with the hormone swelling his tongue was nearly irresistible.
A growl rumbled in his throat, drawing her surprised gaze.
His patience was nearing its end.
His mate. She was created to belong to him, and by damned, she would not hold herself and his rightful bonds to her heart for much longer.
Damn, it would be easy to pull the material from her body.
Not to mention sexy as hell.
He was only a breath from refusing to warn her of the kiss coming that would put her in the frame of mind for the wild, uncontrolled sex the animal inside him was demanding he initiate.
His kiss would ensure the heat then. It would do as it was meant to and make her as crazy for him as he was for her.
He took a step and stopped.
No. He wouldn’t do it. If there was to be any peace in his heart that she had come to him of her own free will, then he had to force himself to have the patience she had asked him for two days before.
Since he couldn’t fuck his mate, that left sparring with his partners. One or the other was going to have to happen.
Sparring it was.
“We’re going to the gym downstairs,” he told her as she moved for the coffeepot.
And God only knew he’d give anything to allow her that cup of coffee. Normally, caffeine was like a kick-in-the-ass shot of high energy to mating heat. But his patience was at an end. He didn’t think he’d survive waiting to see if it would actually work.
Because right now, she looked good enough to eat from head to toe.
Her hair was still damp from her shower, lying in long dark blond curls that fell nearly to her waist. One long curl waved over her breast and tempted him to move it aside. To brush it over her shoulder as he pushed aside the strap of the top and began tasting soft, satiny flesh.
The soft cotton pants she wore skimmed over her soft curves.
“You can go to the gym downstairs,” she stated with a shrug as she poured the coffee. “I have work to do.”
She turned and moved to the laptop as though to power it up and do just that. Just as she had done the past two evenings. She stared at the screen, her expression still, her emotions ragged as she pretended to work.
Setting the coffee cup on the table beside the couch, she moved to open the screen on the device.
“Then bring the laptop with you,” he growled. “I fucking don’t care. I’m going to the gym, and whether you like it or not, you’re going with me.”
Nothing flashed in her normally expressive gray eyes. Not anger, fear or uncertainty. She stared back at him with such a blank look that his teeth clenched.
“Pack it up and get moving, Liza. Now.”
She must have seen something in his gaze that warned her against crossing that line.
Glancing at the laptop, she sighed wearily before closing the top and securing it. “I’d like to get back in time to actually sleep tonight,” she informed him.
“Why?” He had to force himself to throttle the anger building inside him. “It’s Friday night, not Sunday, and it’s not as though you have a job to return to.”
“No, I don’t, but I do have other things I can be doing besides sitting on my ass and filing my nails.” Her voice never raised, never changed inflection. “There is more to my life than a job, Stygian, or what’s happened since you came into it.”
“Such as?” Watching as she moved toward him, it was all he could do to keep from pushing her to the floor and mounting her.
His dick throbbed with a hunger that was becoming painful, imperative as the swollen glands beneath his tongue pulsed in heated demand.
“Such as the Navajo Scholars Fund I chair, the museum fund-raisers I help with, and the scheduling I do for the chiefs of the Six to visit the Nation’s schools. Did you even care to check into anything I do besides what may or may not aid the Breeds in their little agenda here?” she questioned without inflection.
“I don’t know, Liza, I rather liked the university’s cheerleading squad and the fund-raising projects you were doing there,” he drawled. “Don’t you have a meeting coming up soon?”
“Not one you can attend.”
Oh, that unbothered, unemotional attitude of hers was going to get her ass in trouble.
Better yet, it was going to get her ass fucked.
The need to take her down, to heat her arousal to boiling point and find that point of feminine submission was becoming a hunger Stygian knew neither of them was going to escape. Especially if she kept this attitude up.
“If you have to do this, let’s get it over with. I’ll be ready for bed early tonight,” she stated as she headed for the door.
Stygian clenched his teeth, forcing back his growl as he followed her.
She would be ready for bed early tonight?
Oh, she didn’t want to mention that bed right now. She really wanted to do her best to keep his mind off that bed.
“This is stupid, dragging me around like this,” she informed as she stopped at the door and turned back to face him. “I do have things to do, Stygian.”
There was no anger in her face. None in her eyes.
Son of a bitch, he wasn’t mated to a fucking mannequin, and her impression of one was starting to piss him the hell off.
He was not going to get into a confrontation with her, he told himself—told the animal snarling inside him.
He’d be damned if he’d force the lust he knew was inside her to rise, even though he knew if he pissed her off enough, she’d relieve the ache torturing his balls.
She’d have no choice.
If he pushed hard enough, it would burn inside her as well. It was that push he had the problem with. He wanted a willing mate, one who came to him without a push or coercion.
One that came to him because she needed and ached for him as desperately as he did for her.
Opening the door and allowing her to precede him, he was suddenly struck by the faintest hint of the mating scent. Just a hint, nothing overt or heavy.
What the hell was up with that?
Every mate he had ever come in contact with had held a heavy mating scent. It was always unmistakable, and always heavy enough to ensure all other Breed males were warned away.
“Why do you need to go to the gym?” she asked as they moved into the hall to join Flint, Mutt and Dog. The fact that the mating scent was so subtle had his animal instincts pacing restlessly.
Glancing at the three men, the only thing that eased the dangerous rising possessiveness was the fact that each of them seemed completely unaware of Liza as anything other than his mate, despite the less than normal strength of the mating scent.
Strangely, Mutt, being his normal glowering self, was in the best mood of the three.
“Wow, we’re having a party today,” Liza observed mockingly as she too, obviously, noticed the lack of a genial mood.
“No kidding,” Mutt grumbled. “It’s sure as hell not been the Fourth of fucking July for the past twenty-four hours. I swear they’re”—he jerked his head toward Flint and Dog—“gonna start depressin’ me soon.” His deliberate country drawl had just the right amount of twang at the exact slow, deliberate speed needed to pull off the backwoods accent.
No one would ever have guessed that the Coyote the Genetics Council had called Mutt was actually so well spoken that detecting any sort of accent was usually impossible.
“What gives?” Stygian asked as they all entered the elevator, automatically placing Liza protectively between the four of them in the center of the cubicle.
“What gives is being stuck in this damned town babysitting,” Dog growled irritably, crossing his ar
ms over his wide chest. “I’d rather be out hunting.”
“Hunting what?” Flint growled. “Even the natural prey is staying hidden. As if they would be in any fucking danger anyway. These three just enjoy the chase. Give them the chance to kill and they lose all interest.”
“Yeah, at least our chase is actually the hunting kind. Not many of us are into outrunning them,” Mutt grunted. “You’re strange, Flint.”
“Give me a break,” Liza muttered. “You’re all strange.”
“Lady, you’re a pain in the ass—both you and your friend,” Dog growled, obviously talking about Claire. “That little hellion is going to drive me crazy.”
The lack of any animosity toward Liza had Stygian rolling his eyes rather than threatening to tear Dog’s head off. It was damned rare to see Dog reacting to anything in any manner other than mocking or sarcastic. The fact that Dog was so irate over a woman had him wondering if the Coyote—
“I’d kill myself before mating with that little harridan,” Dog snarled as Stygian inhaled deeply. “So stop looking for the damned scent. It’s flat-out not happening.”
Flint snickered while Stygian shook his head. Claire would be happy to know that so far, the mating scent wasn’t detectable. That didn’t mean it would stay that way, though.
“I think this sparring session is just what we all need,” Mutt growled as the elevator doors swung open, depositing them in the private gym Jonas had arranged in one of the conference rooms on the ground floor. “I could handle kicking your asses to hell and back. Might make all this enforced indoor boredom actually worth it.”
“You’re going to spar?” Complete disbelief filled her voice as she moved to face Stygian. “You brought me down here so I could watch the four of you spar?”
Staring into the narrowed gaze of his mate, Stygian suddenly felt more defensive than he liked. And he found he sure as hell didn’t like being defensive in front of Liza.
“No, I brought you down here so you could do that work you were bitching about while I spar,” he growled, hiding his confusion at the scent of—envy?
She was envious?
This proved true the rumor that intense training went into every member of the Navajo Breed Underground Network and explained why Liza and Claire were able to deny being a part of it, despite the reports they received that both women were. They wouldn’t be officially inducted until their training was complete.
“And obviously, to fight off the hornies.” Dog’s mocking smile was back. “What happened to mating heat, Stygian? You should be sparring with your mate in the bed, not your buddies in the gym.” He chuckled at what he considered a joke.
“Shut the fuck up, Dog,” Stygian ordered, glaring back at him.
The son of a bitch was right too, and that just pissed Stygian off even more.
“What he should be doing is leaving me alone in our suite to work instead of dragging me down here to watch a bunch of overgrown little boys wrestle,” Liza snapped, the sudden scent of her anger spilling from her like honeysuckle in the spring.
What the hell had finally managed to piss her off anyway?
If only it were her lust scenting the room so sweetly. If it were, he wouldn’t have to spar with these yahoos.
“Stygian, why don’t you just help your little honey find herself a place to work,” Dog suggested with a hard smile.
“Preferably a place where she can watch us kick your ass,” Mutt agreed with his best smile, which was actually a hell of a scowl.
Mutt would have made a hell of a poster boy for the Coyote bogeyman. Stygian had no doubt mothers frightened their children into good behavior with a similar visage of what could get them in the dark if they didn’t behave.
“Yeah, why don’t you just do that, Stygian,” Liza agreed with a mocking smile. “So I can watch the four of you pound on each other like idiots.”
Turning back to her, brow arched suggestively, Stygian let her know exactly why they were there.
Silently.
His gaze locked with hers.
He was going to pound on these three like an idiot, or he was going to end up fucking them both blind in that suite upstairs.
It was her choice.
Liza didn’t have to be a Breed, she didn’t have to have an incredible sense of smell to detect the lust fueling his gaze. It was there, burning like a neon blue flame in his black eyes.
She’d known he was aroused, known he’d wanted her in the past two days, but she hadn’t known it was burning as bright or as hot as it was. As bright or as hot as she had each time she allowed herself to pull back from the job she was determined to finish first.
Turning on her heel, she stalked across the gym as she attempted to push back her own responding hunger.
She couldn’t go there right now. She couldn’t deal with the need that existed between the