Styx's Storm

CHAPTER 8

Storme watched Dr. Armani silently as she extracted the fourth vial of blood from the pressure syringe before storing the supplies she had used over the past several hours back into the heavy, old-fashioned black bag she carried.

She'd arrived as usual, but this morning, she seemed more intent than normal.

Saliva and vaginal swabs had been taken, a scrape of skin from Storme's inner thigh as well as her arm; the bite Styx had given her the night before was swabbed and four vials of blood were taken.

"Which Breed is contagious?" she asked as the doctor snapped the lid shut on the bag.

She couldn't imagine any other reason for the samples being taken every day. She'd lived long enough in the labs to know certain procedures. It may have been ten years since she was there, but she clearly remembered her father swabbing her inner cheek and taking blood when any of the Breeds in the labs had appeared to be ill.

The vaginal swab and skin scraping were something new, but she made allowances for more thorough testing and better procedures having been developed in the past ten years.

"No one is contagious, Ms. Montague." The doctor gave her a cool smile as she stripped off the thin medical gloves she wore and pushed them into the pockets of her lab coat.

"Then why the examination and the samples every friggin' day?" She waved her hand toward the bag where the doctor had stored the various vials. "When we were in the labs, they only did this when they thought a Breed might be contagious."

"There are other reasons." The doctor brushed back the long mass of braids that swung over her shoulders, before sitting down in the plush chair next to the bed.

"And what would those other reasons be?" Storme crossed her arms over her breasts and stared back at the doctor inquisitively.

She didn't fully trust Nikki Armani. The other woman was a Breed doctor and, according to many reports from the pure blood societies, had worked against the Council even when she was a part of it.

"Have you been feeling uncomfortable? Had any unusual reactions to anything?" the doctor asked instead.

"Like what?" Storme frowned in surprise. "What are you looking for, Dr. Armani?"

"Some answers." The doctor remained cool and unflappable. "Everyone that comes into Haven is required to undergo testing, for your protection as well as ours."

"You talk as though you're a Breed," Storme commented. "You're not. You're human."

Nikki tilted her head and stared back at her curiously. "There's no distinction in my eyes, Storme, and according to the Breed mandates, there is no distinction in the eyes of the world courts."

That didn't mean there wasn't a distinction. It simply meant that the human parts of the Breeds were strong enough to encourage sympathy in the politically correct and politically distrustful world of the moment.

Not that what had been done to the Breeds could ever be considered right or just, but that didn't make them human either.

"But you know that it isn't true," she said softly. "You worked in the labs, Dr. Armani, you know they're not human."

Armani's gaze became thoughtful for a second before a glitter of condemnation filled them. "Storme, I pity you, and I pity those like you who refuse to acknowledge the very unique strength of Breed humanity."

"I respect their strength, Dr. Armani," she said softly. "Just as I respect the strength and intelligence of their animal cousins. But as with the creatures whose genetics they carry, I know better than to bare my throat to them. I learned better the hard way."

By watching her brother die at the sharp, bloodthirsty edge of a Coyote Breed's teeth.

The doctor leaned forward slowly. "When Styx kisses you, is there a difference, Ms. Montague, between his kiss and the kiss of a man who is not a Breed? When that man makes love to you, when he touches you, are you with a man or with an animal? Tell me." She glanced at the mark on Storme's neck. "Do you bare your neck for him?"

"There's still a difference," she whispered. "It's just one you don't want to acknowledge."

The other woman's smile was filled with pity and with anger. "I remember when my grandfather would tell us stories of the racial conflicts in the past century. How we as biracial children were considered less than human because of the color of our skin, or the color of our parents' skin. Courts debated, brothers separated, and a war was fought to uphold the value of our humanity. Simply because these men and women were forced to carry the genetics of proud, highly intelligent hunters doesn't make them any less human for it. If you want my opinion, it makes them far superior to us in the very fact that unlike us, they know the value of life."

The doctor didn't storm from the room, she rose slowly, shook her head at Storme in disgust, picked up her bag and walked calmly away.

And still, she hadn't answered Storme's questions. Why were the samples needed, and what were they testing for? But what she had left Storme with was a mind filled with even more conflicts than before.

There was nothing different in the sex with Styx, other than the pleasure. He could touch her, and her heart rate tripled, kiss her and she lost her senses to anything but the pleasure of that kiss, and when he made love to her, he made love to her with all the hungry, intense pleasure that a woman could dream of. There were times he made her feel her own femininity with such keen strength that it nearly overwhelmed her.

He made her feel like a woman that held her lover's complete attention, his absorption. And that was something she had never known before.

When he held her, she didn't consider him an animal. In the cold light of day she wondered just what the hell she was letting herself get involved in though, because she could feel her emotions and her feelings changing. And that terrified her, because she knew that would also change the entire course she had set for her life.

"Hello, anyone here?" The greeting came through the bedroom, from a voice she knew could belong to only one person. "Styx, come on, honey, I have the chocolate and the wine for you to check out."

Storme's head snapped around, eyes narrowing as a slender, svelte form stepped into the bedroom as though she were well used to being there.

Cassandra Sinclair. Nineteen years old, the only Coyote/ Wolf mix created, and rumored to be the foremost authority on Breed Law, she stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as though she owned the place. Her eyes narrowed on Storme, her expression smooth, but with a hint of condescension.

Dressed in skimpy jean shorts and a barely there racer-back tank top, her full breasts pressing against the top, obviously unbound, while skeins of long, lush black curls tumbled to her hips and around her shoulders, she looked like a teenage Lolita dressed to seduce, rather than the legal genius she was rumored to be.

Cassandra Sinclair was highly sought after for the price the Genetics Council had placed on her head because of her unique Breed status, created in vitro and carried to term by her mother. The blending of Coyote and Wolf DNA had failed each time scientists had attempted, until the success with Cassandra's mother.

Pale blue eyes roved over Storme, assessed her, and if the message she saw in the girl's gaze was anything to go by, she definitely wasn't considered a threat to whatever plans the younger woman might have for Styx.

Chocolate and wine? Oh no, Storme didn't think so.

"Styx is not here." She rose from the side of the bed and confronted the girl warily. "And I think you're aware of the fact he isn't."

A black brow arched with feminine arrogance. "Well, if I knew he wasn't here, then I would have looked elsewhere." There was a vein of laughter, an edge of mockery, in Cassandra's tone as she stared around the bedroom. "Normally, he's fairly easy to find. I wonder why he's hiding." No doubt she believed he was hiding from Storme.

Storme tilted her head and stared back at her, wondering why the girl hadn't asked her where Styx was rather than why he wasn't there.

"Styx wouldn't have told you where he was," Cassandra said softly, that smile on her lips sending a rush of disbelief tearing through her. Cassandra couldn't have known what she was thinking. "It's obvious from the bars on the windows and the guards outside that you're a prisoner, so I guess it would be rather useless to inquire from you into his whereabouts?"

Posed as a question, but Storme couldn't shake the feeling that it was deliberate, any more than she could ignore the glitter in those light blue eyes. They were as eerie as Jonas Wyatt's silver gaze.

"If you know a prisoner is here, then why bother to come in looking for Styx?" Storme asked confrontation-ally as she crossed her arms over her borrowed T-shirt.

Cassandra's lips quirked again. "I'll have to talk to Styx about loaning my clothes out without my permission. That's one of my favorite T-shirts." There was an edge of anger in the girl's voice, an edge that said she wasn't pleased to learn that Styx had loaned Storme anything that belonged to her.

"I left those clothes here, come to think of it," Cassandra murmured. "They look much better on me."

The jeans were a little long. Cassandra was an inch or so taller than Storme, with a lithe, slimmer figure. Storme knew she was a bit hippy, and that made the jeans rather snug. Cassandra's breasts might be fuller, which explained why the T-shirt was just a bit loose.

Storme's lips tightened. "Would you like to have them back?" she asked with false sweetness.

"You could wash them first." Cassandra shrugged. "I hope you wear panties."

Storme breathed in deeply. The other girl was being damned catty for a Wolf Breed.

"Actually I don't," Storme drawled. "But I'll make sure the jeans get a nice rinse."

"Just keep them." Cassandra straightened, her gaze suddenly more intent, sharper. "I didn't mean to make you feel inferior, I was simply upset that Styx didn't ask for the clothing."

Was this woman deranged?

"You can have the clothes back," Storme assured her.

Cassandra shook her head. "I have more you can borrow if you need them. There are few Breed females here at Haven that will meet your size requirements. I would be closest."

Storme watched her warily. For a moment, Cassandra Sinclair looked like any teenager in the world, but she wasn't. Storme had never realized how difficult it must be for the Breeds to maintain the reality of what they were in the face of the illusion they presented to the world.

She was having sex with a Breed male, and now standing here in front of a Breed female that the Council would pay more than three million dollars to possess themselves, she found herself questioning many of the beliefs she'd had for years. Questions she shied quickly away from because she was terrified of the consequences of delving too deeply into them.

As she stared back at Storme, Cassandra didn't appear to be a miracle of genetic engineering, nor did she appear to possess the special, dangerous abilities the Genetics Council was rumored to have stated she possessed.

She looked like any normal teenager confronting someone she didn't understand, and who could possibly be a danger to her. And, Storme admitted, there were times when the anger and rage that filled her could have made her a danger to any Breed.

"You're watching me like Nikki watches her little specimen slides under a microscope," Cassandra laughed.

"You look a lot different than your pictures," Storme said quietly. "A little shorter, and definitely prettier."

The pictures the Council had of her gave her the appearance of cold intelligence. Black-and-white, they showed her with her hair pulled back from her face, her blue eyes appearing paler than they actually were.

Here, in real life, she looked fragile, vulnerable and full of energy. For a moment, she acted as though she weren't entirely certain of something, but she didn't look cold or dangerous and she sure as hell didn't look as though she would survive the cell labs Storme remembered from the Omega compound where she had been raised.

"Well thank you for the compliment, I guess." The smile Cassandra flashed her was at once uncomfortable as well as warm.

"So I guess Styx had things to do today," Cassandra said and sighed. "We've been looking for this really cool, rare chocolate and I finally found it. It arrived today along with the wine we ordered. I just thought he might like to know."

"I'll let him know you were here, Cassandra." Storme wished she could forget. The thought of Styx sharing chocolate and wine with this young woman wasn't a comfortable feeling.

"Call me Cassie. One of these days, we might be friends." Cassie tilted her head, her gaze at once mysterious as well as sharp, intent. As though she could see beyond the surface into part of Storme that Storme wanted no one to see, or to know. Especially Breeds. "If you ever decide we're not monsters, that is."

"We might be friends?" Storme questioned in confusion. "Hopefully, I'll be leaving soon, Cassie. I rather doubt you socialize much outside Breed society. As for monsters, no, I don't see you as a monster." At the moment. And that statement didn't apply to many of the Breeds she had met before Styx kidnapped her.

"Well, the socializing part is rather true. There's that whole nasty price-on-my-head thing," Cassie stated mockingly, though Storme could have sworn there was an edge of pain in her voice. "But the Breed social set is improving daily and we do enjoy our little parties."

Parties such as the one Cassie and her parents had attended on Lawrence Island several months past. The party where she, pride leader Callan Lyons, and an Enforcer had nearly died.

"The reports stated you nearly died at the Lawrence party," Storme said.

Cassie laughed, a bitter, mocking sound that sliced at the illusion of teenage perseverance. For a second, her expression was far too mature for her age, and far too frightened of the future.

"A former Council trainer, Jason Phelps." Cassie swallowed tightly. "He really wanted Dawn, Seth Lawrence's wife now. He was at the labs where she was created and decided that because he was given leave to terrorize and rape her as a child, he could do so now that she was an adult. I was just a little extra, I guess. Three million dollars is a lot of money to pass up, right?"

Jason Phelps. Storme had known Jason Phelps. He had been a friend of her brother's, for a while. For a moment, a flash of memory surfaced. Her brother stalking into the house late one night, furious, his expression tight and hard as Jason followed him inside.

She didn't remember the conversation, or rather the loud argument, that had awakened her and drawn her from her bed. Her brother had been so enraged he had ended up slamming his fist into Jason's face and throwing him out the door of the house.

"Three million dollars is a lot of money," Storme agreed as she fought the panicked feeling beginning to rise inside her. What this young woman had suffered, what she endured as her life had to be hell. Storme was alone, fighting to run from the Council for years. But in all fairness, they hadn't seriously tracked her, simply because until lately, no one had believed the importance of the information she had.

Unlike Cassandra Sinclair. Every move she made, every breath she took was with the knowledge that the Council was willing to pay a fortune to destroy her.

Cassie watched her curiously, a question in her gaze. No doubt she caught the response, the heavy hard thud of her heart before she could control it.

"Jason was killed wasn't he?" Storme asked when Cassie said nothing further.

"A sniper, we still haven't learned who it was." Cassie shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans as she drew in a hard breath. "Thankfully, I survived it. The alternative wouldn't have turned out nearly as well."

"And the alternative was?" Storme asked.

Cassie gave her a hard smile. "Standing order among the Breed community where I'm concerned. If I'm taken and rescue isn't possible, then I'll be killed by the very people who love me. And trust me, that is preferable to a life in a Breed lab."

Storme flinched. She remembered the Omega labs, the cells where wounded or experimental Breeds were kept. Cassie would be considered an experimental Breed. She would be caged, kept naked, tested, examined and forced to endure a life that even an animal shouldn't have to endure.

That realization had Storme's heart clenching, her stomach dropping. The Council had been wrong in the creation and the treatment of the Breeds. Storme had known that all along. So how right did that make her?

It was a question she pushed back, one she couldn't focus on quite yet.

"And it's okay for you that your own people would execute you?" she asked Cassie heavily, wondering how she could have lived with the knowledge if her father or brother would have been in that situation.

Cassie's smile was bitter. "Trust me, Storme, I'd rather die than suffer the rapes, the beatings, and the experiments the Council would conduct on me. Death would be a vacation."

Storme swung away from the other girl and paced to the barred window. She couldn't imagine living in such a way. Cassie at least had been raised as a human; for years she hadn't known what she was or how she had been created. Still, the scientists would strip her of her freedom, her very humanity, to find the animal they believed she was inside.

She was, at least mentally and psychologically, human. To have to live with the threat of death at the hands of the people she loved must be a horrifying weight. To be so young and to have to accept that the dreams that could have been hers, the future she could have had, would never be.

Cassandra Sinclair was a young woman who didn't have college to look forward to. The illusion of security, peace or happiness would never be hers. And yet she was here, she had been laughing, joking. She had actually fared far better than Storme had in the past ten years.

"I'm tired ..." Storme needed to be alone. Only when she was alone could she sort out her emotions and her thoughts enough to remain true to the promise she had made to her father.

"No, you're not tired." Cassie mocked the excuse as Storme refused to turn and meet her gaze. "What's wrong, Storme, your idea of reality faltering somehow?"

It wasn't her idea of reality that was faltering. It was her idea of the past, the future and everything she had thought she believed in.

"You know who I am. I was raised in the labs. I saw what the Breeds were, what they were created to be," Storme whispered. "You know who my family was ..."

Cassie waved through her words, her expression irritated as she shook her head in impatience.

"Your father and your brother were friends to the Breeds, and their deaths were a terrible tragedy, I know that," Cassie stated. "I came across their file when I was going over a case against another trainer. You however, are a different story, aren't you, Storme? If we all died tomorrow, you wouldn't give a damn."

"That's not true." She swung around, instinctive anger rising inside her.

"Oh, well, you might want to keep Styx around for a little while." Cassie laughed derisively. "To play pet stud perhaps? But the rest of us could go to hell, couldn't we?"

"No." She shook her head, though she knew it was a comment she had made often in regard to Breeds in general. That they could go to hell for all she cared.

The thought of Styx dying, of his laughter, his charm, and his wicked flirtatiousness being extinguished or locked in a cold cell, was more than she could bear.

And strangely, the thought of knowing that gatherings such as the one she'd glimpsed the night before would never happen again had her chest clenching in something resembling regret.

She knew for a fact that Breeds had never had such gatherings in the labs. There had been no warmth for them, no peace and no love. Even a human without Breed genetics could be turned into an animal. And if that human had animal genetics to begin with? Genetics taken from not just the most savage animals on the Earth, but also DNA gathered from some of the most criminal minds the world had ever known, what would then be produced?

That process produced Breeds.

"Look, you've been through hell, your dad and your brother were killed and I'm sure you saw it all, but you know what, Storme, they made a choice and stuck to it. Whatever your father gave you, he gave you for a reason. Because we may need it ..."

"Stop." Storme couldn't hold back the word, or the demand that this end and this end now. "You don't know me, and you didn't know my father or my brother. I don't have anything to give you, it's that simple. You, Styx, Jonas Wyatt and your alpha are simply going to have to accept that."

"But Navarro did know you," Cassie broke in. "And Navarro remembers well the times your father and brother hid certain details, and worked with him to help certain Breeds escape. They risked their lives for the Breeds, and they told him you held the key to the secrets they were destroying."

"Then they lied to him. And they risked my life by telling him that," Storme bit out furiously. If Navarro had been such a friend, if her father had wanted the Breeds to have the data chip, then surely he would have said something. "I was there in those labs too, Cassie. Any risk they took on themselves, they placed me in the same line of fire. Tell me, would your father do the same?"

"Any battle my father took on would be my battle as well," Cassie told her fiercely. "We're not animals and we're not monsters, but that's not what you believe, is it? It's not what you want to see either. Styx is fine for you to fuck, but tell me, would you stand in front of him to protect him? Would you argue to the world that your lover is human and deserving of life? And if you did, would you argue for his friend as well? His pack mate? His alpha?"

Storme drew in a hard, shaky breath. "You need to leave."

"So you can wallow in your self-pity and judgmental racism?" Cassie's smiled was censorious and edged with disgust. "Sure, Storme, I'll leave now. Be sure to tell Styx I'm looking for him." Cassie paused then, a tight, confident smile filled with critical certainty crossing her face. "When you're gone, he'll be mine again. I can be patient. Right?"

For a second, Cassie's gaze gleamed with feminine confidence. She felt she had a hold on Styx for some reason, a hold that went far beyond sharing a little chocolate.

"Isn't Styx a little old for you?" Storme asked tightly. "I'd think you'd want someone closer to your own age, Cassie."

"I like older men," Cassie assured her. "I especially like Styx. He makes sure I have fun. He may have other lovers, but he always comes back to me. And we both know you have no intention of hanging around, don't we, Storme?"

She had to force herself to control her breathing, to keep from raging inside and out with anger. An anger she shouldn't feel. As Cassie had said, she had no intention of hanging around. Her only firm plan was to escape this place the moment she found her opening, and never look back.

She couldn't force herself to agree with Cassie though. There was something about the other girl that warned her to be wary, to be careful of what she thought, felt and said.

Cassie smiled slowly. "You're a bright woman, Storme. It's too bad you're so damned stubborn as well. Life might have been better for you if you had realized who your friends were, and what your enemies want from you."

"Meaning the Breeds are my friends?" Storme asked bitterly. "Should I just expose my neck with a smile and hope for the best?"

"It depends on the Breed you're exposing your neck to." Cassie was clearly laughing at her. "I believe there may be a few you've pissed off over the years. They might nip you just for the hell of it unless Styx declares you as belonging to him. And I'm certain the Council Coyotes would be more than happy to do some true damage, but until you actually threaten Haven, I don't think you have much to fear."

"And what would it take to threaten Haven?" Storme crossed her arms defensively over her breasts and glared back at Cassie.

Strangely, she had the feeling that Cassie was right, that under different circumstances, they might have been friends. But these weren't different circumstances, this was reality, and in this reality, they weren't friends. There was no chance of them being friends that she could see.

"Escape," Cassie answered thoughtfully. "That's what it would take, Storme. Because if you escape, then you escape with information no one else has, information that could be a danger to us. Be careful what you plan, be careful how determined you become to remain so very stubborn, Storme. Because if you escape, then as with me, we can't afford to allow the Council to take you."

"So your precious alpha would have me killed?" Storme bit out furiously.

"That job would fall to me."

Both Cassie and Storme whirled around, staring in surprise at the implacable expression on Styx's face and the cold, hard edge of determination that filled his eyes.

Panic, fear--they rose inside her like a whirlwind growing rapidly out of control. Like something she couldn't contain or control with the last ounce of determination inside her.

She could see the truth on his face. If she escaped, then she would have the knowledge that even the human soldiers working in Haven didn't have.

Humans were confined to the security areas only. The communications bunkers, the secured entrances. They didn't roam the small cluster of homes and likely only a few had any knowledge of the location of the alpha and his second's homes, except the most trusted ones.

She knew pure blood societies that would pay a hefty price for that information. For any information that would aid in even a quick suicide strike against the leaders of this community, a strike that would come even close to success.

She was a liability to Haven and to the Breeds in general, and the slow, icy knowledge of the danger that placed her in had her throat tightening.

She had slept with this Breed. She had curled against him, felt his arms around her, and she had felt safe.

Even here, safety was an illusion.

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me." She forced the words past her lips as she turned away from both him as well as Cassie. "Could the two of you leave now? I'm tired of company. I rather enjoy the time I have here to stare at the walls."

To plot and to plan. Suddenly, the idea of escape had never seemed so imperative and yet so far out of reach.

"Like hell," Styx growled as he stalked into the room, then turned to Cassie. "What are you doing here? I sent word I'd meet you in the community center this evening."

Storme swung around and stared at him in disbelief as he spoke to Cassie.

"Strange," Cassie murmured. "I didn't get that message. I wanted to let you know the chocolate we ordered arrived today. Dr. Armani promised to have it tested by the party next week along with the wine we ordered to go with it. I thought we'd check it out tonight."

He glanced back at Storme. Catching his gaze, she made damned certain he didn't sense anything out of her but the anger and disgust she felt.

"Not tonight, Cassie," he growled as he turned back to her.

Cassie pouted prettily. "You promised, Styx."

"And things have happened since I promised," he stated, his tone firm, but still warm. There was a softness to his tone as he spoke to Cassie that set Storme's nerves on edge.

What was it that made her feel like clawing both their eyes out. That had her fingers curling in an effort to hold back that need.

"Styx, this chocolate cost me a month's allowance." Cassie propped her hands on her hips as irritation filled her voice. "And that wine? Do you remember how much that wine cost, Styx? We had a date. You are not allowed to break dates because of a current playmate. You promised me that."

"A current playmate?" Storme was all but choking on her anger now as Cassie shot her a glare and Styx turned, raked his fingers through his hair and grimaced helplessly; she lifted her hand and fought back the incredible urge to throw something at him. "Don't let me hold you back, Styx. And don't even imagine in any part of that tiny brain of yours that I'm some kind of playmate. Go eat your chocolate." Mockery filled her voice. "Drink your wine." Her eyes widened with an innocent concern that was patently false. "Have a really good time by all means. I'm sure I'll find some way to entertain myself." It was all she could do not to clench her teeth in fury.

She hoped they had fun. She hoped to hell that if he was fucking Cassie, then her father caught him. Better yet, she just might make damned certain Dash and Elizabeth Sinclair found out about it straight from her. They were, after all, normally present in the gatherings each night in the courtyard.

And if she was really, really lucky, then Dash Sinclair would let her watch him neuter the bastard for touching his daughter.

"See, Styx." Cassie smiled in apparent excitement. "She doesn't care a bit. Come share the chocolate with me, you know you want to."

Styx turned back to her slowly.

"Some other time, Cassie." And no one was more shocked than Storme that he gave the refusal. "There are things I have to do this evening. Perhaps tomorrow evening though, since Storme is so determined to do without my company." He shot Storme another look as the flare of anger jumped out of her control and had her teeth snapping together.

"Great. No breaking the promise." Cassie gripped his shoulders, went to her tiptoes and delivered a loud, smacking kiss directly on his lips. "See you tomorrow, sweetie."

She bounced out of the room with all the exuberance of a young woman barely out of childhood, and for a second, Storme could do nothing but hate her.

Chocolate and wine. She breathed in deeply, feeling the edge of tremors of anger as they threatened to slip past her control. She was stuck in this damned house to stare at the walls for days on end. The television was blocked, the Internet didn't work even if they hadn't taken her PDA phone, and she hadn't had chocolate herself in months.

"Have fun," she bit out, her lips curling in distaste as he stared back at her with narrow-eyed suspicion.

"Cassie's always fun," he drawled softly. "But remember, Storme, you're the one that gave me permission."

With one last hard, disgusted look she turned and stomped out of the bedroom and away from the greatest threat she had faced since the night her father and brother died.

The allure of a Breed created to deceive, to seduce and to kill.