Styx's Storm

CHAPTER 3

She was caught.

Storme sat in the sitting room glaring at Styx as Breeds filled the room. The contents of her duffel bag were spread out on the table, every item in it thoroughly examined by the Breeds that had arrived after she dressed.

Styx stood to the side of the room, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her with an inquisitive expression. As though he were trying to figure out a particular problem.

Lips thinned, anger burning inside her, she stared back at him.

He had played her. Him, Navarro, Rule, Lawe, and Jonas Wyatt.

She turned her gaze to Wyatt.

She'd never seen him dressed as he was now, all in black, weapons strapped to his thigh, his eerie silver eyes so hard, so cold they were deadly. Of all the Breeds Storme had fought to avoid over the years, the director of the Bureau of Breed Affairs was almost at the top of her list. He was damned scary.

Perhaps Styx was scarier though. He'd managed to get beneath her defenses, to play the perfect game without once arousing her suspicions. And she could be a damned suspicious person.

Hands clasped tight in her lap, she tried to think, to force her brain past the exhaustion and fear to find a way to escape. There had to be a way to escape; she had always found one before.

Admittedly, she hadn't allowed herself to be in this position before though. In the ten years she had been running, since she was a young, tender, fourteen, never had she allowed herself to be surrounded by Breeds.

Now here she was, no weapons, no way out, and she was surrounded.

"I want the data chip."

She flinched at the sound of Wyatt's voice. It was razor sharp, cutting, and merciless.

"People in hell want ice water too," she sneered back at him. "You're going to get about as lucky as they are in your wants."

"You don't want to fuck with me over this, Ms. Montague." The latent violence in his tone had the hairs at the back of her neck rising.

"I'll tell you what I've told you for the past ten years, I don't have your data chip."

Two factions chased her. The Bureau Breeds and the Council Breeds, and to look at them, it was impossible to tell which was which.

Jonas contacted her often through the old email account of her father's that she checked regularly. It was always the same. When she was ready to give him what he wanted, then he could protect her.

Her answer was always the same. She didn't have what he wanted.

It seemed he was tired of playing nice.

"Ms. Montague, the time for lies is over." The growl in his voice was frankly terrifying.

As he stepped toward her, Styx moved as well. His action surprised her. It appeared as if he was placing himself in line to protect her against what might well be the most powerful Breed in the world at the moment.

Jonas's gaze flashed to the Wolf Breed. "She's not yours," he bit out, his tone icy.

"Doesn't matter," Styx growled back. "I pulled her in, I'm responsible for her."

A mocking smile curled her lips. He had fooled her once; she wouldn't allow him to fool her again. No doubt this fake protection was no more than another game to draw her in.

Jonas glanced back at her. "She doesn't appear to want your protection, Styx."

Storme sat up straighter. "By all means, Styx, protect me." Mocking and sweet, Storme kept her tone even, hoping to hide the fear rising inside her.

His gaze flashed back to her, irate and glittering with a warning.

"She knows what she has, Styx," Jonas growled back as he stared back at Storme. "She knows, and she's holding on to it for a reason."

Because she had sworn she would hold on to it. Because it was the only thing her father had ever asked her to do. To protect that information.

"I'm not holding anything ..."

"Breeds can smell a fucking lie," Jonas snarled back. "And you, Ms. Montague, are lying. Tell me what the fuck you want for it and we can conclude this piece of business before the night is over."

She had always known she couldn't lie to their faces. She was too aware of what she was holding, too aware of the fact that their sense of smell would betray her.

There was no doubt Jonas Wyatt was enraged at this moment as well. It was there in every controlled inch of his body, in the glitter of his silver eyes.

"Storme, this has gone beyond whatever you believe you're protecting that information for," Styx stated quietly. "We can protect you, but we have to have the data chip."

"So you fucked me for it?" she sneered with a harsh laugh. "Tell me, Styx, are you one of those Breeds that were trained to be gigolos for the Council?"

His gaze narrowed, and for just a second she could have sworn she saw a flash of confusion mix with the anger that ignited in his gaze.

"Are you one of those humans that believes we're nothing but animals that don't deserve to live?" Jonas accused her, the rabid fury in his voice at odds with the cool control she knew he was famous for.

She didn't flinch, she didn't cower back in her chair, but God she wanted to. She did flinch though as Styx jumped between her and Jonas, a fierce Wolf's snarl vibrating from his throat.

"Back off, Jonas!"

Navarro moved slowly into position to jump between the two Breeds if necessary.

The other Breeds moved behind Jonas, as though flanking him, protecting him.

"I want that chip, Styx," Jonas snapped. "The implications of this have gone beyond one woman's life. Don't doubt for a second I won't do whatever it takes to force what I want from her."

"Jonas, enough."

All eyes turned to the woman who had stepped into the room.

Rachel Broen. "Hell, all we need now are the Breed alphas and a few Council members to complete this little meeting," Storme stated, forcing the mockery in her voice as Rachel stepped forward.

Jonas's assistant and new wife looked concerned as she moved to her husband's side. What Storme saw then had her chest clenching in some emotion she didn't understand.

Jealousy perhaps? Envy? Storme knew whatever it was had regret flaying her and a hunger rising inside her that she couldn't control. An emotional, overriding hunger she didn't understand and refused to look too deeply into.

For a second, the icy fury in Jonas's eyes was replaced by worry, pain, and a split second of agony that was gone just as quickly as it had come.

His wife walked to him slowly, her gaze focusing on Storme, her navy blue eyes heavy with concern.

"You shouldn't be here, Rachel," he grated, though his hand settled at the small of her back with the utmost gentleness as she neared him.

Rachel Broen was human. There had been several articles in major newspapers about the marriage of the Bureau director and his assistant. The woman had a child if Storme remembered correctly, an infant. There were rumors in the underground anti-Breed networks that Phillip Brandenmore, a silent partner with the Council, had found a way to use this woman's child to get something he wanted.

What Brandenmore had wanted no one seemed to know, but Storme knew what Brandenmore had been doing. He had been trying to replicate a project from the Omega labs and had actually believed the girl would want to see her father's work resurrected.

"It seems that perhaps I should have been here earlier," Rachel said softly. "What are you doing, Jonas, trying to terrify this young woman and fight with one of your best Enforcers?"

There was an edge of chastisement in his wife's voice now, one that had Jonas staring back at Storme with a promise of retaliation.

Yeah, retaliation. She could see who wore the pants in this family, and it sure as hell wasn't Jonas Wyatt. Though the thought was mocking, Storme was still fascinated with it. Rachel wasn't more dominant; it was more that Jonas seemed to be that attuned to his wife, perhaps that much in love?

Could a Breed love? Didn't one have to have a soul to love?

"Ms. Montague." Rachel stepped around her husband, then the hulking form of Styx. "I'm afraid you're going to have to come to Sanctuary ..."

"Haven." Styx moved between them again as Jonas stepped closer to his wife.

"Sanctuary would be better, Styx," Jonas stated harshly. "We can sneak her easily into the underground cells ..."

"The hell you will. She goes to Haven," Styx stated again. "She goes with me."

"She's not yours, Styx," Jonas stated again.

At this point, enough was enough. "I'm not a bone between an oversized cat and dog," she informed them all bitterly. "Why don't I just settle this little argument myself? I'll just be going on my merry way if you all don't mind."

She rose from the chair, until Styx turned so suddenly she came to a hard stop. Hands braced on the arms of the chair to hold herself up, she stared up at him in surprise.

His expression wasn't furious, but rather so dominant and intense she sat back down in her chair slowly. A primal sense of self-preservation seemed to kick in. It wasn't the same warning sense that kicked in when she knew she was dealing with a dangerous animal. It was different.

"Maybe I'll just wait a minute," she stated calmly.

"Maybe you'll get ready to take another ride," he stated, his voice harsh. "We're going to Haven."

"She's needed at Sanctuary, Styx," Jonas argued again. "We have to have that data chip."

"Then it seems you'll be coming to Haven for a while," Styx stated.

The brogue was gone. There was no accent, no tonal shifts.

Jonas's jaw clenched as Rachel turned back to him. "We'll go to Haven, Jonas."

"Like hell," Jonas growled. "Rachel, this isn't the plan."

"Then it appears the plan is changing," Styx informed him coolly before turning to the other Breeds. "Get her stuff together. I'll be transporting her to Haven. Navarro, get the Range Raider ready to roll and have one of the wolves outside pick up my cycle."

"My, aren't we the dominant Breed here." Crossing one knee over the other, Storme smiled back at Styx mockingly. "Why bother, Styx? You performed well. You captured the dangerous little girl, you can run back home now, little Wolf. I don't care to take a trip to Sanctuary. I hear the Felines can be very sociable when they want to be."

Sanctuary had its vulnerabilities, ones she was aware of and knew hadn't been detected by the Breeds. A vulnerability such as a hidden exit built into those underground cells. An exit she knew Brandenmore was slowly being maneuvered close to by a Council Breed spy in Sanctuary.

Styx's lip lifted in a silent snarl as a flash of blue fire lit his gaze.

"Ms. Montague, antagonizing Styx isn't the route I would take," Rachel advised her softly. "This situation will become difficult enough for you ..."

"She isn't his," Storme heard Jonas mutter.

"What is it with this 'his' crap? Sorry, guys, last I heard this was a free country and I'm not a Breed. I pretty much belong to myself. Right?" She was fighting back the fear.

Anger and mockery were always her defenses against that fear, but this time it wasn't working as it usually did. There was something about the look, the wary caution in the Breeds as well as Rachel's eyes, that warned her that this situation could become even more serious than she imagined.

"It doesn't matter what he means, and freedom, Sugar, is an illusion. You haven't been free a day in your life and you're not going to be free until this is over." Styx watched her with cool purpose as he spoke, determination echoing in his voice.

Her freedom was an illusion?

She stared at the Breeds, at Rachel. "So what am I, Mr. Wyatt, another of your little pets like Dr. Amburg and Phillip Bradenmore? Do you think there aren't those who are aware of the fact that you're holding them?"

Jonas's eyes narrowed.

"It doesn't matter what anyone is aware of," Styx snapped. "It doesn't change the fact that you're coming back to Haven with me until we have this little problem resolved."

"You call this a problem?" Storme laughed in disbelief. "We've far surpassed the problem stage here. You are not kidnapping me."

Styx's brows lifted. "I believe that's exactly what we're doing, Storme. Kidnapping you. You let yourself be caught, and that tells me all I need to know about the fact that you can no longer protect yourself. I've been chasing that pretty ass of yours for more than two years, did you truly think I didn't know everything there was to know about you, right down to your very unique scent?"

She could feel herself shaking, feel the shuddering realization of what he was saying striking to the very heart of her.

She had known Styx Mackenzie was chasing her several months, perhaps a year, before, but she hadn't realized it had been for two years. Someone was always chasing her, always right behind her, waiting to pounce, but she'd always known who they were before, whether they were Breeds or Council soldiers--until Styx.

And still, she had played right into his hands, just as he said. For the first time in ten years, she hadn't protected herself as she should have.

"Ms. Montague, you have information that is imperative to the Breeds," Rachel stated then, compassion and determination in equal measure filling her gaze. "Information that could possibly save my child. Trust me, Jonas isn't going to allow you to escape, and neither will anyone at Haven until they have that data chip. There is no other option but to relinquish it."

"I don't have it," she lied again. She would always lie.

She had no idea what was on that chip. She had never been able to break the encryption on it, no matter how hard she tried. What she did know was that whoever was supposed to collect it had never found her.

She couldn't fail her father. He and her brother had died to protect whatever was on the chip. They had died to save her, so she could protect it.

And she had lived a life of hell ever since.

"And once again, I'm calling her a liar," Jonas's voice was deeper now as he broke into her thoughts, the latent edge of danger in it causing the hairs to rise at the back of her neck.

"The Range Raider's ready, Styx," Navarro stated as the tension began to grow ever higher in the room. "Haven's Enforcers are waiting outside the hotel ready to escort you and Ms. Montague as well as the director and his wife back to Haven."

Navarro. Storme focused on him. She remembered him well, the pack leader of the Wolf Breeds in the Omega labs.

"You just couldn't stop until you tracked me down, could you, Navarro?" she stated quietly.

"Hello, Storme." There was no warmth in his voice, though she would have never expected any. She knew him, she had seen him, she had feared him. "As the director said, you've been given every opportunity to resolve this yourself."

"Let's go." Styx's fingers curled around her arm to pull her from the chair before the ready retort could pass her lips.

"Styx, this is a mistake," Jonas advised him as Storme was forced to her feet. "Don't make the same mistake Mercury did when he was younger. You can't try to claim what isn't yours."

She stared back at Styx, a vague suspicion pricking at her mind. They couldn't be talking about that damned mating fever the Council had been warning the pure blood societies was true, could they? Surely not. There were symptoms of that. She didn't have symptoms, did she?

"This has nothing to do with one of your Lion Enforcers, Jonas," Styx stated, his voice harsh as he tugged Storme behind him. "This has to do with Storme and me, no one else."

"Nothing has anything to do with us," she promised him as she turned to stare over her shoulder at Jonas and Rachel. "Hey, I'm all for Sanctuary. Haven just doesn't sound like my kind of place, ya know?"

Besides, if the mating heat crap was true, she wanted to be as far away as possible from this particular Breed. He already seemed to have found some hidden entrance to emotions she had no idea she could feel. She sure as hell didn't want to risk an even bigger vulnerability.

Besides, there was more information to be had on Sanctuary, security wise. Where Haven was concerned, there was supposedly no weaknesses in their security, no way to escape the almost clandestine atmosphere of the Wolf Breed mountain.

Adding to the security were the Coyote Breeds that inhabited the sharp rise that led into the mountain. Caves were said to be carved into the mountain there, allowing the Coyotes a view that assured constant surveillance of each entrance into the main compound, as well as the compound itself.

Once, Coyotes, all Coyotes, had been the enemy of both Wolf and Feline Breeds. Now certain factions of Coyotes were banding together and joining the side that seemed to be winning in the battle between Breeds and Council supporters.

"Come on." Styx pulled her after him, gently but firmly. The hold on her wrist assured her that she wasn't going to get away easily.

There would be a chance though, she assured herself frantically. There was always a chance, right?

"Go ahead and try to escape," she heard Jonas mutter just behind her. "I dare you."

Fear shook her then, listening to Jonas. On second thought, she didn't dare let herself be forced under his control. Styx would be the far better choice. For the moment. She hoped.

Stepping up, she gripped his arm with her spare hand before casting a wary glance over her shoulder to Jonas's cold, hard-eyed gaze.

There was death in those eyes. The latent fury gleaming beneath silver ice was frankly terrifying.

Perhaps there wouldn't be a chance to escape, yet.

"This is a mistake," she warned Styx as he pressed her into the elevator. "I will escape, Styx."

She couldn't forget how easily he had tricked her, how easily he had played her. She had given herself to him for a few moments of warmth and peace, and now she was truly paying for it.

"You can try." Still no brogue, no warmth. "That's all I can promise you, Storme, is that you can try."

What the hell was going on? Styx kept his expression clear, his temper calm, and that wasn't easy to do. He could feel the animal raging inside, clawing, snarling in fury.

Something wasn't right. The glands at the side of his tongue were irritated, swollen, but only the most minute quantity of the hormone had slipped free. As his release had torn through his cock earlier, he had felt the mating knot pulse in the middle of it, throbbing, the flesh trying to swell outward as his semen jetted inside her. Yet it had never fully emerged.

Beneath his flesh he could feel a low-level hum of electric sensation that he couldn't shake, that he couldn't eradicate.

As though she were almost his mate.

What the fuck was up with that? There was no such thing as an almost mate, was there?

As the service elevator they took came to a stop on the main floor and the doors opened, the Wolf Breed Enforcers waiting outside surrounded them and escorted them to the waiting vehicles.

He could smell Storme's wariness now, her mounting fear. As each second passed with the realization that there was no escape, her desperation was beginning to grow.

Exiting the rear of the hotel, he pushed her quickly into the back of the vehicle before climbing in beside her and hemming her in as Navarro slid in on the opposite side.

There was no escape. No way he could allow it. Jonas was wrong. She did belong to him; it was just that something seemed to be stopping it. He had to find out what that "something" was before he went crazy.

Jonas stood back and helped his mate into the wide seat in front of Styx and Storme. Rachel watched Storme compassionately yet firmly as Jonas slid in beside her.

There was no compassion inside Jonas though. This woman possibly held the answer to the hormone that had been injected into the infant Jonas had claimed as his own, Rachel's child.

Amber was a well-loved, well-protected babe within Sanctuary now, but months before Brandenmore had managed to outthink Jonas and take Amber as a hostage in exchange for her mother's agreement to steal certain documents from the Bureau.

Jonas had been waiting for Brandenmore's next move when Rachel had shown up, hysterical, bruised, beaten, and terrified that her daughter was being held by one of Jonas's enemies.

While in Brandenmore's less than tender care, Amber had been injected with what at first was thought to be a sedative. Now Jonas was certain there had been something more, despite the Breed scientists' inability to track any problems.

Jonas wasn't paranoid. If he said Brandenmore had somehow managed to inject Amber with something that was as of yet untraceable, then Styx believed him. He was a hard-edged, icy, controlled, dangerous bastard, but nothing in this world mattered to him as much as his mate and child did.

Once, the Breeds had been Jonas's full focus; now that focus had narrowed to two frail human females who held the heart of the silver-eyed bogeyman of the Breeds in the palms of their hands.

Since his mating, Jonas had become more dangerous, more determined to ensure their safety and security. At the moment, learning the truth of Project Omega, Jonas was certain, was all that could save his child.

Beside him, Styx felt a shudder, barely restrained, as it moved up Storme's spine.

She was moving past the anger now, and fear was turning to terror. He could feel it, scent it, just as Jonas could.

"Ms. Montague, no harm is going to befall you." The words seemed pushed between Jonas's gritted teeth, as though he hated admitting she had nothing to fear. "But you will not know freedom, or even your perception of freedom, again, until I have what I want."

Rather than stilling her fear, it only seemed to agitate it.

Rachel laid her hand on her mate's tense arm.

"Let her be, Jonas," she said softly, regretfully. "As you said before, she's spent ten years being terrorized by Coyotes and the few remaining Feline and Wolf Breeds that the Council controls. She won't overcome that hurdle overnight."

"Try never," Storme sneered as that fear began to fill the air of the vehicle. "I saw how compassionate and merciful Breeds were the night my father and brother died."

"Your father and brother had every chance at safety for months before those rescues, with or without their fucking secrets," Jonas snapped. "I extended to them the offer of rescue for your father as well as his son and daughter, and he refused. He was unable to walk away from the research that meant so much more to both of them than you did."

She flinched. For a moment, the scent of her confusion was so strong he knew it must be strangling her.

"Enough, Jonas," Styx warned him again. " Give her a chance to see she's safe."

"And if we don't have the time for that?" Jonas questioned him with icy disdain. "Excuse me for not having your exacting patience, Wolf."

"You're forgiven." It was Storme who bit out the words as she glared back at the Bureau director. "And there is no convincing me to give you something that isn't mine to give."

She wasn't lying. Oh, she had that data chip, but she truly believed it wasn't hers to give, that something prevented her from using it to secure her safety.

"Eventually, you will," Jonas assured her. "If for no other reason than to escape the pure fucking insanity that often resides in Haven. You would have been smarter to demand a bit more forcefully to be taken to Sanctuary, rather than entering the Wolf Breed lunacy."

Her head turned sharply, as though in surprise, as she stared back at Styx. Obviously she hadn't heard that Haven could actually be enjoyable.

"We just have more fun," Styx assured her as he shot Jonas a fulminating look. "Felines seem to have a more restrained concept of entertainment than wolves have."

Jonas grunted at that, as Rachel sighed heavily.

Jonas's mate was growing used to this argument, Styx was certain.

"I think you're all missing vital mental genetics myself," Storme stated, as though there wasn't a latent quiver in her voice. "But then, you've proven that over and over in the past years as you tracked me."

"As we protected you." Jonas leaned forward then, the danger that hummed through his system placing the animal inside Styx on instant alert. "Do not be in doubt, Ms. Montague, had we known the importance of the information you carried, then I would have been sure to capture you years ago rather than believing you would come to your senses and accept our protection over the Council's certain torture."

"Well weren't you wrong." Storme was almost nose to nose with Jonas before Styx gripped her shoulder and pushed her back against the leather seat.

"Enough," Styx ordered both of them as Rachel merely shook her head in resignation. "She's not ready to believe you, Jonas."

"She'll never be ready." She tried to jerk out of his grip as she glared back at him and spoke of herself in the third person with mocking emphasis. "And she won't make the same mistake again where you're concerned."

He smiled back at her, knowing there would be no comfort in the curve of his lips or the flash of the canines at the side of his mouth.

Oh, she would indeed return to his bed very soon. He had no idea what the hell was holding back the mating heat, the biological bonding of a Breed and his or her mate, but something was definitely blocking it.

She was his woman, the one woman he had thought he never wanted to meet until Dr. Armani had come to him with the results of the mating tests she had done with the blood the Council had taken while Storme was in the labs. He hadn't truly known possessiveness, though, until he held her in his arms and realized there was something holding back the natural progression of claiming her.

He wouldn't allow it for long. Whatever the problem was, he could feel the clawing fury of the animalistic genetics that lurked just below the surface of the human male whose appearance he had.

His gaze slid back to Storme as he felt her breathing deepen, roughen. She was terrified, and that knowledge had his fingers curling as he fought to keep from clenching them in fury.

His woman was fighting to hold on to her control because of fear of him, of Breeds. She didn't trust him to protect her, to hold the danger at bay whether she gave up her secrets or not.

There wasn't a force on Earth that could convince him to give her over to danger simply because she did not obey Jonas's dictates. Nothing short of death would change his determination to protect her.

"Don't do this," she suddenly whispered, turning back to him, her gaze imploring as the vehicle made the turn out of town and headed along the back country road to the mountainous compound of Haven. "Let me go, Styx."

"Give us what we want, and we'll let you go, Storme," Jonas answered for him, likely sensing that at the moment Styx couldn't possibly force that lie past his lips.

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.