Styx's Storm

CHAPTER 11

She found a way out.

Storme watched late that evening as the Breed Enforcers guarding the house crossed paths, stopped and chatted. After the weeks she had been here, they were doing something she hadn't expected. They were growing complacent.

The night was cloudy, storm clouds brewing over the mountains to block the emerging moon and dim the light shining down on Haven.

She had to run.

Her emotions were in such conflict, the needs, the realities she had always known under attack. She couldn't fight this much longer. If she didn't get away from Haven, then she would never feel that the decision she was close to making was the right one to make.

As long as she was here in Styx's home, surrounded by the humanity and the joy of life and freedom she glimpsed in the Breeds, then her emotions were in such conflict that making the decision was becoming impossible.

Just as the thought of doing without Styx, of being without him, was beginning to become an agonizing choice.

It was a choice she would have to make eventually though. There was no future to a life here, no matter how much she was beginning to wish there were.

Checking the clock, she laced the hiking boots she had slid her feet into and pulled on the long-sleeved denim shirt she had stolen from Styx. When she retrieved the capsule, a grimace tightened her lips. It was crushed, the capsule no more than a fine powder now.

She could only pray she could mask her scent now.

Scent was everything when the Breeds tracked. If she covered her scent with his, it would make it easier to slip away and hike around the base of the Coyote rise to the other side, where she could slip through the security fence easier.

They would detect the break and move immediately to secure the perimeter. They might even be aware it was her breaking through, but she would be close enough to the main road that they wouldn't know if she had caught a ride or not. She knew how to hide from Breeds. She had been doing it for years, until Styx had captured her.

But that was Styx. She was convinced it had been the man combined with the situation that had led to her capture by her fun-loving, too charming Scots Wolf.

And now walking away from him was killing her.

Rubbing at her arms, she grimaced at the irritation she could feel just below the flesh. It was becoming more prominent now than it had been before. It was directly related to Styx, she knew, because if he touched her, if he kissed her, if she tasted that erotic, elusive flavor of chocolate and cinnamon, then the irritation eased. The arousal grew, became heated and hot, but that irritating, frustrating tingle beneath her skin went away.

The hunger for his kiss became sated, for a while at least.

She almost grinned at the thought. Who could have imagined that she, who had believed she hated Breeds for so long, could crave one's kiss?

But a part of her had always known it hadn't been Breeds in general she hated, but the fact that they were the reason her father had died. Protecting them had meant more to her father than protecting his daughter had. The knowledge of that had hurt.

Pulling the edges of the denim shirt closer about her, she stared out the barred window and watched as the Breed guards moved closer to position.

She bit her lip as she felt her throat tightening with emotion. Tears threatened to fill her eyes as she fought the instinctive need to stay rather than to run.

She had no business here, she told herself.

The longer she stayed, the closer she was coming to risking a part of herself she had never risked in her life. Her heart.

Styx was coming dangerously close to making her love him.

Her breath hitched as a sob caught in her chest.

She was not going to cry.

She was going to run, and she was going to hide until she could figure out what the hell she was going to do with the information her father had given her.

One thing was for damned sure, she couldn't keep it any longer. She couldn't risk her own life for something she was beginning to believe to the depths of her soul her father would have wanted the Breeds to have.

As the two Enforcers crossed the line she had marked with her line of sight over the past evenings, Storme moved.

Within seconds she was slipping out the front door and closing it silently.

The natural borders, trees and greenery that the Breeds left for privacy and seclusion worked to her advantage now.

With her gaze trained on the ground, she sidestepped the monitors built into the stone pathway that led to the narrow graveled road, and ducked beneath the motion sensor cameras.

Moving low and fast, she skirted the trees, crossed the road at a fast run then entered the forest as sirens began to sound behind her.

She must have missed a sensor or a camera, she thought. How unusual. She had always been able to detect the traps laid for her thoroughout the years.

As Styx had said before, she was growing weak, soft.

She didn't bother to look behind her, didn't bother to attempt to see if she was being followed. Her only chance lay in keeping as much distance between her and Styx and the Enforcers as possible.

The farther she ran from him, the harder it became to hold back the tears, or to keep her breathing even enough to allow her to run.

Her vision became dazed and watery, her breathing short, choppy, as she fought back a regret that threatened to overwhelm her.

She didn't want to run from him.

She didn't want to leave, and she didn't want to stay to have her heart ripped from her chest.

She didn't want to ever lose anyone else she loved.

She stumbled, almost going to her knees at the thought.

She couldn't love him. She wouldn't allow herself to love him.

She cared for him. That's what it was. She cared for him and she wasn't used to caring for anyone. Other than Gena, she'd had no friends; they made her vulnerable. They frightened her.

Bracing herself against the trunk of a tree, she wiped her face and looked up as lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the trees, and the rain began to fall in a hard, steady downpour.

How perfectly fitting, she thought as she drew in a hard, ragged breath and stared around the darkened night.

She could still hear the sirens blaring behind her and knew the Breeds already had teams scouring the forest. They were growing closer by the second and she was just standing there.

"Damn you," she whispered desperately as she fought the sobs that wanted to tear at her chest. "Damn you, Styx."

He was breaking her, she could feel it. She had never had a problem escaping the Council or the Breeds sent after her. She knew their tricks; her brother had taught her how to evade the training they were given. She knew them as only one who had been raised around them could know them. And yet here she stood, as though she couldn't force her legs to move, couldn't force the will to run.

Thunder shook the ground as lightning lit up the sky.

Flinching, Storme pushed herself from the tree as she forced herself to keep going, to keep running.

It was damned hard to run and to cry at the same time though. And why the hell she was crying she couldn't figure out. It wasn't as though she had allowed herself to get close to anyone here, besides Styx. She'd stayed secluded, refraining from joining the evening community meals or responding to any of the invitations issued by the mated couples along the "block."

But she had wanted to visit. She'd wanted to see Chance's child, talk to Faith Arlington about the recent negotiations in Russia concerning a discovery of gold on land ceded to a small Wolf Breed pack years before.

She'd wanted to see Jonas Wyatt and Rachel Broen's child, the one they feared Brandenmore had somehow infected with a potential Breed virus.

What was she doing?

Fists clenched, she added speed to her legs, forcing herself to push faster, farther. She had to get out of Haven if she was going to escape. There was no way she could manage to protect her heart this way, or the information her father had given her.

As another crash of lightning lit the sky, followed by a Wolf's howl that echoed through the trees as though it had been dragged from hell and was rushing up her ass.

She couldn't help turning to look, eyes wide, her lips parting in a surprised scream at the vision behind her.

Lightning flashed, turning a mane of red gold hair to the color of flames as blue eyes gleamed like unearthly lights in the darkness.

Narrowed and glittering with fury, they pierced the darkness as Styx stalked her, moving fast enough to assure her that she wasn't going to lose him, while staying far enough back to give her a sense of hope. If she were insane enough to believe there was any chance of hope where escaping him was concerned.

It was her own fault, just as it had been the first time.

With him behind her now, it seemed her legs filled with energy, with speed. She sprinted through the night, the wind whipping through her hair, excitement churning through her bloodstream as she raced forward.

There was an exhilaration pushing her now, a challenge that added not just the energy to run, but a strength, a surge of adrenaline that had her heart racing and a sense of wildness invading her.

Glancing quickly behind her, she assured herself he was still there, pacing, stalking her through the night as thunder crashed overhead and lightning split the heavens with a display of brilliant yellow streaks of lights.

Behind her, she heard him growl, a warning, deepthroated sound that sent waves of clenching need rushing through her pussy. She felt her juices gathering between her thighs even as she ran through the rain, glancing behind her, making certain he was still there, that he was still following her.

He let her run until her legs grew weak, trembling. As she stumbled against a hidden limb in the dark, lightning flared and she caught herself on a thick fallen tree, gasping for breath.

Instantly, he was there. Behind her, the warmth of his body, the heavy strength of his arms bracketed her, pressing her against the tree as she forced back a moan of pure lust that rose in her throat.

"You will not run from me." Animalistic, so rough and thick with lust, he growled the words at her ear before nipping the tender tip with an exquisite bite.

"I will not let you hold me." Yet she was leaning into him, her rear cushioning the straining length of his cock as he growled against her neck.

"You are mine!"

She shuddered at the declaration, feeling him behind her, his hips rocking against her rear as he pressed her farther over the fallen log.

The wind howled around them, rain beating down on them and soaking her to the skin, yet there was no chill. There was only the heat of his body behind her, his arms around her, the feel of his hands moving to the snap of her jeans, jerking them apart, releasing the zipper and tearing the denim down her thighs.

She wore no panties. She'd long ago forgone the underclothing, leaving her naked beneath the denim.

Against her neck he growled again, his canines raking against her sensitive flesh and sending flares of heated sensation racing through her body.

Was this why she couldn't run from him? Why she couldn't leave him?

With her hands braced on the log, she panted in front of him, feeling his fingers moving between her thighs, finding the swollen bud of her clit as the other hand pushed beneath her borrowed T-shirt to cup the mound of an unbound breast.

Her nipple hardened further, reaching out for his fingers as they found it and burning at the contact.

Storme arched, crying out at each touch as her body began to hum with pleasure. There was nothing as incredible as Styx's touch. As having his lips at her throat, his canines raking over the sensitive cords of her neck and his fingers pressing into the needy depths of her pussy.

"Yes," she hissed in desperation, pressing into the penetration of two strong, wide fingers as they worked their way inside the slick, greedy depths of her sex.

"I won't let you run." He nipped at her neck as she cried out at the deep, penetrating thrust of his fingers inside her. "I'll be damned if I'll lose you to your own damned stubbornness."

Her head fell back against his shoulder as he removed his hand from her breast. A second later she felt him working loose his jeans, releasing the hard, thick length of his cock.

She twisted against him then, a hunger she couldn't control rising inside her.

He let her move, let her turn to face him, only to brace his hands on his shoulders and push her to her knees on the ground.

Her hand went to his thigh, gripping the sides of the impossibly hard muscle with one hand as the fingers of the other curled around his cock.

There were few preliminaries. The desperation riding inside her threatened to steal her mind. She wanted to enjoy every second, every touch until she lost herself to it.

Her lips parted.

Styx's fingers threaded into her hair and gripped the strands as he wrapped the fingers of one hand around the base of the heavy shaft.

Lightning flashed again, sending flares of light flickering over the savage planes of his face. Taut, hard, his expression was filled with lust, with hunger, as he pressed the wide crest to her parted lips.

"Suck it, Sugar," he groaned. "Give me that tight little mouth, love."

A slow, shallow thrust buried the hard, burning head of his cock inside her mouth and dragged a low, hard groan from his chest.

Storme could sense the hunger flowing from him. He burned with it, his cock throbbed hard and tight with it as her tongue curled over the head, stroking as she licked, loving the taste of him, the feel of him.

As he held the hard flesh for her to work her mouth over the engorged tip, Storme's hands were free to roam. As rain poured over them, ran down his chest, to his thighs and around the thrusting length of his dick, her hands caressed and stroked the warmth of his thighs.

Dipping between them, she found the tight, drawn sac of his balls, caressed them and shivered at the sound of the harsh, rough rumble of pleasure that reached her ears.

The hand that held tight to her hair moved her head as he fucked her lips, while he held the base of the shaft with the other. Storme could feel the heavy pulse and throb of blood beneath the heavily veined flesh. Each minute pulse of pre-cum that shot into her mouth was filled with the taste of cinnamon and male heat.

Unique. Heated, the taste of him seemed to fill her senses with the flush and power of a narcotic. It rushed to her head with each pulse of blood to her brain and struck a match to the intoxicating, explosive power of the arousal that flooded her.

She was drowning in him.

Her tongue licked and stroked over the engorged cock as each heavy throb of the unusual ejaculation spurted against her tongue. She tasted and relished. She suckled at the hard flesh, moaning as her fingers slid to the swollen, sensitive bud of her clit.

It burned, throbbed. The swollen bud was so tight and hard it was nearly painful as she stroked and rubbed against the side of the sensitive knot of nerve endings.

"Such a sweet fucking mouth," he groaned, his voice as harsh, as deep as the sound of thunder, muted and low in the distance now. "Suck it hard, baby. Let me feel that hot little tongue loving the hell out of my dick."

And she was loving it. She was intoxicated with it.

She took it as deep as possible, feeling the hard pulse of the wide crest at the back of her throat before retreating to lick at the head once again.

His fingers kneaded her scalp as his thighs bunched and tightened and his cock seemed to harden further, the crest throbbing as though swelling further between her already stretched lips.

"Damn. Enough baby."

Styx jerked back. He could feel the knot pulsing in the tight flesh of his cock, closer to the surface, threatening to expand and swell with each hard pulse of pre-cum he released into her mouth.

He could feel her heat rising, smell it in the storm-drenched air around them.

It wasn't mating heat, but it was damned close. Rich, filled with spice, heated and tempting, it went to his head. Staring down at her, he watched as she pulled back, staring up at him as she licked over the head of his dick, the illumination of the slowly emerging moon gleaming over her pale face and the long, sodden silk of her hair as it flowed down her back.

She looked like a wood nymph, a sexy, sensual little temptress dragging him into a lust-filled adventure that threatened to destroy his self-control.

"Ah, lass," he groaned, unable to hold back the words as she sucked the head of his cock back into her mouth. "That's my sweet Storme."

Never had he known such pleasure. Never had he scented such need and hunger from his lover, and it wasn't even mating heat.

This was pure need, rich and hot, tightening his balls and sending fingers of electric sensation racing up his spine.

As she cupped his balls with one hand, the tips of her fingers playing over the taut sac, he was aware of her stroking herself, the smell of her rich cream filling his senses until he wondered if he could survive the pressure.

One damned thing was for sure, another minute in her mouth and he was going to come for her.

It took all the self-control he possessed to pull her head back and draw her to her feet. Swaying in front of him, her lips reddened and swollen, green eyes darkened and glittering with hunger, she looked like a woman lost in the pleasure she was giving her lover.

"Lass, give to me," he groaned as he turned her again, pressing against her back to bend her over the high trunk of the tree.

Her breath caught, but it was in excitement rather than fear as he tucked the head of his cock against the swollen, saturated folds of her pussy.

"There, love," he crooned, aware of the rough, deepened sound of his voice. "Let me have you. If I don't bury my dick in your sweet wee pussy, then I may not survive the night."

He would have preferred their bed, but there was no way he would last the time it would take to return her to the cabin before fucking her.

The attempted escape, the chase, the storm that had raged around them and the one that raged inside him were too damned powerful to resist.

Gripping her hip with one hand, he braced his other hand next to hers on the fallen log.

"Storme, forgive me, lass." Because he couldn't go slow. Because he couldn't ease into her as he wanted. Because the need to fill her was riding him like a hard fever and he couldn't hold back any longer.

Storme felt the pressure of his cock against the entrance of her pussy, caught her breath, then let it out in a hard rush of air that should have been a scream.

Her entire body tensed at the first hard, determined thrust. It parted the clenched muscles of her pussy, lodged the head of his cock inside her with shocking swiftness and stole her breath as pleasure erupted within her.

"Styx!" Crying his name out, she arched into the thrust, trying to bury him deeper, harder, pleading for more of the intense, striking sensations that flooded her body at that first, abrupt entrance.

There was no need to beg. As desperate as she was for it, it was possible he was more so.

Storme barely had time to breathe in roughly before he was moving again, retreating, then thrusting in farther, deeper, the burning pleasure-pain of each thrust threatening to throw her over the edge of release with each fiery impalement, until he lodged deep inside her. The fierce, heavy pulses of the pre-cum throbbed from his cock, filling her, and each time she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it eased the fierce clench of her pussy around his cock while sensitizing the inner walls further.

A whimpering cry left her lips at the distant realization.

There were rumors, tabloid stories and whispered warnings to all female members of the pure blood societies about a phenomenon known as mating heat.

An uncontrollable lust that stole a woman's mind and made her a willing sensual slave to her Breed lover.

There were reports of the symptoms that she had never believed. The pre-cum that eased a woman's inner flesh and allowed her to easily take the overly thick width of the Wolf Breed cock. There were also rumors of the mating knot, the swelling in the cock.

She hadn't felt that, but she could feel the heavy thunder of his pulse thicker where her pussy was narrower, as though something just beneath the flesh throbbed to be free.

If this was what it was, then she well understood why the women were warned. Someone should have warned her of the pleasure, the heat and the sheer sensuality of it.

If she'd known this was it, then she couldn't say that she wouldn't have rushed into Styx's arms sooner.

"Styx," she whispered his name again as he thrust inside her fully once again before holding himself still inside her.

She could feel it more fully then. That hard throb in the middle of his cock, as though the flesh were fighting to expand, to lock him inside her.

"Ah, lass, I could die a happy man at this moment," he groaned. "Let me just linger a bit here. Let me feel that wee tight pussy wrapped around my dick. Storme, love, you could drive a man mad for hunger of you."

His voice was rougher, the hand at her hip tightening, flexing as his hips shifted, pressing his shaft deeper inside her as she felt her pussy clenching, tightening on him in increasing pleasure.

"Fuck me," she moaned. "Please, Styx. Oh God, please do something." She was trying to move, to shift her hips, to force him to move inside her when he gave a low, growling moan and began to move.

She felt the pleasure tearing through her at each hard thrust, each shocking penetration by the fiery heat of his cock. Electricity seemed to race over her body as her clit burned and swelled further and his fingers moved from her hip to between her thighs.

His fingers found her clit, and there she lost the ability to think. The calloused tips of his fingers stroked and tormented as his cock thrust inside her with rapid strokes of ecstasy.

She was going to explode. She could feel it. She would die in his arms tonight and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She didn't want to stop it. Here, there was peace, there was a sense of security that she had never known in her life.

There was Styx.

"Ah, lass, you're so close," he groaned at her ear as his teeth raked over her shoulder. "I can't wait to feel it. Feel your wee sweet pussy clenching on my dick. Give it to me, love. Give me your pleasure."

His fingers moved against her clit then, stroking against it as his hips moved harder, faster. He fucked her with hard, powerful strokes, each penetration raking over nerve endings so sensitive, so hot and brutally responsive that she knew she was lost.

His fingers moved over her clit, rubbing, stroking. His cock moved inside her, stretching her, sending a fiery riot of sensations straight to her womb as the building explosion detonated inside her.

She screamed his name, she knew she did. Her body tightened to the breaking point, sizzling fingers of sensation erupted across her nerve endings, and a tidal wave of ecstasy overtook her, shuddering through her body, shaking her, marking her even as Styx marked her shoulder with the sharp, once feared canines he buried in it as he gave himself up to his own release.

And in his arms, Storme knew that somehow, somewhere, she had lost a part of herself and her heart to the Breed that held her.