m, with the hunger that tormented her whenever she allowed herself to forget the fact that she wasn’t who she had believed she was for so many years.
She was accepting it, but it wasn’t easy. She should have been suspicious before the Breeds ever arrived, and she probably would have been if it hadn’t been for the dreams that had pulled her back from those realizations.
Dreams she had allowed…no, dreams she had forced herself to push to the back of her mind when she awoke. Dreams she refused to allow herself to dwell on. Dreams that existed to fill her with fear and dread and caused her to follow the path to that other place, just outside reality, where no emotion, no dread and no fear and certainly no truth, could touch her.
A path she had found in a dream.
A dream where she had shown herself a way to escape.
I go here, she had told herself in the dream. I hide here, because I don’t like the world. Because it’s frightening and harsh and I just want to get away from it. You can go there too. You can hide in my place, because I don’t need it any longer.
Why had it taken her so long to remember?
Moving into the small partitioned area set up evidently for those not interested in partaking of the men’s antics, Liza sat down slowly on the surprisingly comfortable sofa that faced the gym.
Placing the laptop on the coffee table, she wiped her hands over her face before pushing her fingers through her hair and breathing out roughly.
That path to that non-real place was closed to her now. It had been closed to her since the night Stygian had made love to her.
Or mated her.
But the dreams were still there, and this time, the dreams weren’t evading her memory once she awoke.
“God, this is so crazy.”
Lifting her head, she stared out at the gym, watching with a sense of envy as the four men were indeed pounding each other into the mats.
Hell, she hadn’t even known this room was here. If she had, she would have called Claire and asked her to join her. They could have invited Ashley and Emma—.
Her lips twisted mockingly. Perhaps she wouldn’t have. They obviously knew the room existed and hadn’t suggested it the few times she had talked to them.
But, if she had, maybe she wouldn’t have had the chance to watch the spectacle she was watching now.
Flint came at Stygian with a hard flying kick, catching his powerful shoulder and doing no more than kicking him back. Gripping Flint’s ankle, Stygian twisted it, hard. The other man flipped midair, following the direction that could have twisted his ankle from his leg before jerking free.
Coming to a crouch, Flint barely managed to jump out of the way as Stygian threw a hard side kick his way. Without giving the other Breed a chance to recover, Stygian was at him again.
A hard jab to the jaw jerked Flint’s head back even as he delivered another into the younger Breed’s hard, muscle-packed abdomen.
Flint went back. Barely catching himself, he managed to recover and send a hard jab to the side of Stygian’s face.
The sound of fist meeting flesh and bone caused Liza to wince despite the fascination she was feeling.
The fascination as well as the arousal beginning to build between her thighs. Her clit was so swollen she was suddenly, heatedly, all too aware of the fact that it had been more than forty-eight hours since he had last touched her.
Since he had last kissed her.
And his kiss was simply…delicious.
It tasted just a little bit like cinnamon candy, coffee and chocolate. She loved cinnamon candy, coffee and chocolate, especially when she tasted it in his kiss.
Pressing her thighs together, she reminded herself she really didn’t have time to consider his kiss right now. Or his touch. Or the way the tip of his tongue did that little swirly thing around her clit.
She couldn’t consider the pleasure right now, or how much she had missed it. She definitely didn’t want to consider how good it would feel to have him moving over her, moving inside her.
The feel of her vagina clenching, the moisture spilling to the folds beyond was so sensual, so incredibly erotic when combined with the memory of his kiss that she swore the hunger clenching her womb would make her crazy.
She wanted him now.
Ached for him now.
And he was too busy sparring with his buddies to even care.
She was ready to roll her eyes at herself at this point.
Jerking the laptop open and pulling up the Navajo Remote Database, Liza reminded herself that she was the one that couldn’t handle her own life at the moment. Stygian hadn’t asked her to allow the confusion and fear building inside her to come between them.
She had done that herself.
Opening the Community Center file, she tried to concentrate on the plans to renovate and add the nursery wing to the new center that had been built on the western edge of town a few years before. She’d been in charge of raising the money, and they’d completed raising the funds several months before for the expansion as well as additional computers for the after-school tutoring program.
She was halfway through the file when the odd flick of the screen she’d been experiencing for the past several weeks happened again. Frowning, she scrolled lower, wondering why her father hadn’t been able to fix it while he’d had the laptop the week before. As it flickered again, she made the ultimate mistake of lifting her gaze and allowing the sparring session in the gym to catch her attention again.
For the past two days she’d fought with herself, forced herself to piece together fragments of memories, to find a resolution inside herself. To accept what she knew, who she knew she was. The need for him had been beneath the surface, the hunger for him had always been there, at the edge of her thoughts and her need. But the need to know who she was, and why she believed she was Liza Johnson, had taken so much of her that she’d had no choice but to step back and piece together the bits she knew, the fragments of dreams, the memories that hadn’t really seemed like memories.
She wasn’t who she thought she was, but there was no way to prove it to herself. There wasn’t a single memory, a single dream or instance that she could use to pinpoint that she was Honor Roberts or Fawn Corrigan. There were no memories of either that she could pull free.
As she watched the Breeds sparring, she suddenly stiffened as Flint’s fist went for her mate’s face.
Stygian jumped back from the jab to his face but not before it connected.
His lip was split, the reddened hint of blood marring the perfect male curve.
Ah hell, Flint had split Stygian’s lip?
Wouldn’t that make kissing her later painful?
She could kiss the little boo-boo.
Licking her lips at the thought, her breasts swelled further at the surge of hunger racing through her body while her clit pulsed in renewed need.
Renewed? No, not renewed, it hadn’t stopped pulsing since she’d first watched them sparring.
She wanted to spar with him. She wanted to have him take her down, strip her pants from her body, lift her to her knees and fuck her into a screaming orgasm.
Was that seriously too much to ask?
It wasn’t like she wouldn’t be willing to give as well.
Her tongue ran over her lips again, almost involuntarily this time. She could remember the taste of him, the strength and power of the broad head of his shaft.
So broad.
She’d heard Wolf and Coyote Breeds were thicker than normal, their cocks broad enough to stretch a woman until she was certain it was impossible to take him.
Their experience, she had heard, ensured their lovers took them, perhaps not with ease, but definitely with pleasure.
Exquisite, heated, torturous pleasure.
Moisture rushed from her vagina, slickening, preparing—
Clenching her thighs, she forced back a moan and fought to return her attention to the file she was working on. And the occasional flicker of the screen that was mor
e irritating than an actual problem.
Or, it would have been if her mind was actually on the file she was supposed to be working on.
Returning her gaze to the gym and the combatants still going at one another, the urge to be on the mat with her mate was only growing stronger.
She wanted to be the one sparring with him.
She was his mate for a reason.
She wasn’t the hothouse flower he so obviously believed she was.
This hothouse flower was one week from final testing before her induction into one of the most professional, most secretive rescue forces in the world.
She could spar with him.
She highly doubted she could take him, but she knew he would take her.
Sensually.
Erotically.
Creaming her panties was an understatement for the slick moisture now gathered on her pussy.
Hunger didn’t come close to describing the need rushing through her body.
Her nipples were so hard the lace of her bra was such an abrasion it was painful.
Liza wanted nothing more than to pull her clothes—No, she wanted Stygian to tear the clothes from her body. To want her with such strength, with such uncontrolled lust that nothing mattered but fucking her. But pushing the broad length of his cock inside her, driving her mad with each thrust until the wicked additional erection filled her, locking him inside her as his release spurted to the very depths of her vagina.
She wanted him until she felt on fire for his touch. Until the soft cotton of the dove gray lounge pants and matching camisole top were so irritating, so impossible to bear she wanted nothing more than to strip.
She needed to be naked.
She needed her mate naked.
Now!
CHAPTER 18
As sparring sessions went, it was one of the rougher ones.
Stygian knew he would have bruises in places he hadn’t had bruises in years. Coyotes were mean gutter fighters, and that was just a fact of life.
That meant bruises in places a man normally didn’t have to worry about bruises when sparring with them. He seriously couldn’t remember a time when sparring with a Lion or Wolf that he’d ever had his arm dislocated by a kick beneath his arm.
How the hell Dog had managed that one, he wasn’t certain yet. All he knew was the dirty bastard had caught him unaware at the same time Flint had been coming at him with a mean right hook.
Moving quickly to the side to avoid a hard jab at his nose—no one could accuse Flint of playing nice—Stygian came back with a powerful blow to the other Breed’s stomach, quickly followed by a mean left hook that Stygian only barely softened before connecting with Flint’s jaw.
Even pulling the punch, Flint was sent flying back against the padded wall. His dark hair dripping with sweat as he shook his head, Flint came back at him.
Blocking a hard kick aimed for his abdomen, Stygian was in the process of sweeping the other man’s leg out from under him when the scent caught him.
Like a sledgehammer, the scent of feminine lust tore through his senses.
He froze, his head lifting, drawing in the sweetest, most addictive scent he could have imagined.
In the same breath Flint delivered a powerful blow to his midsection with a kick that nearly knocked him from his feet.
A rush of air exhaled from his lungs as Stygian found himself crashing into the padded wall.
Done in by the scent of his mate’s lust.
God help him, he had to get the others out of here. There wasn’t a chance he was going to make it to their suite before he buried his dick inside the lush, honeysuckle sweet depths of her pussy.
Catching Flint coming in for another hard kick, Stygian gripped his ankle, twisted then jumped back as the other Breed did a midair flip that would have ended with his foot in Stygian’s jaw if he’d been a breath faster.
Landing in a crouch, Flint grinned back at him.
“You’re getting old, Stygian,” he claimed. “You damn near knocked me out last week when you countered that same kick. But then”—his brows lifted suggestively—“the scent of your mate’s hunger wasn’t there to tempt you either. Was it?”
“You were faster this time,” Stygian argued as he ignored the comment regarding his distraction.
“And you’re a hell of a lot slower.” Flint laughed as Dog and Mutt both paused in their sparring. “You’re off your game, my friend.”
Hell if that wasn’t the truth, but even Flint was easing back, the unspoken agreement that the sparring session was over, understood by them all.
The scent of a mate’s need sent a message to any other Breed in the area to keep away, to move beyond the scent if possible and at every opportunity to allow the mated couple a chance to be alone.
Inhaling sharply, he caught her scent again.
Arousal and an addition of something more had his gaze narrowing on her.
The arousal was uppermost, a subtle scent because of the distance, but there all the same. But it was also combined with the scent of envy and a natural aggression that had his animal instincts howling and his lips turning up in a grin of relish.
“Time to shower,” Flint announced, though Stygian’s attention never wavered from Liza. “We’ll secure the room on our way out.”
His attention was focused completely on Liza as she rose from the sofa and moved closer to the main mats. He was only distantly aware of the soft pings indicating full security had been activated on the entrance to the gym.
There would be Breed enforcers stationed at the elevator and then farther along the hall as long as he and Liza were in the room.
Stygian anticipated they would be there for a while.
“Spar with me now.” Her demand should have surprised him.
It didn’t.
He already suspected the part she intended to play in the Navajo Breed Underground Network. He should have suspected it long before he had.
She was a mass of contradictions, deceptions and confusion. One could never take anything about her at face value, until he learned the answers to the questions she presented.
Moving once again, Liza toed off the sandals she’d slipped on before leaving the room. Leaving her feet bare, the pretty painted toenails a subtle candy pink, she stepped onto the mat.
Her arousal was no longer mixed with envy. It was now infused with a hint of feminine, sexual aggression and independence.
The intriguing scent had his dick swelling impossibly harder, throbbing with a demand he had no intention of holding back.
A growl sounded in his throat as his lips curled into a slow, dominant snarl.
“A challenge, mate?” he asked as he knelt and removed the baby-soft leather boots worn by enforcers.
Loosening the ties, his gaze holding hers, Stygian removed them without haste, refusing to allow himself to fumble so much as a string while she watched.
Male pride.
He all but grinned at the thought.
Of course, he couldn’t allow himself to appear less than completely dominant and assured in her presence. God forbid this independent, striking young woman should ever have a moment to doubt his ability to love her.
To protect her.
He’d prove to her he was her fitting mate.
Removing his close-fitting black socks, Stygian straightened and stared down at her silently for long moments.
“You’re my mate,” he finally stated, hearing the primal growl that filled his voice. “I am well able to protect not just your safety, Liza, but your secrets. You’ve only to give them to me for safekeeping.”
Reaching back and gathering her hair, she wound the long strands into a loose braid before securing it with the elastic band around her wrist.
“What if I don’t know the secrets I’m keeping?” She surprised him with the answer.
“Then I’d say you’re hiding from them,” he answered, ignoring the flash of disagreement in her gaze, the hint of anger that darkened the soft gray colo
r.
She didn’t argue; instead, she moved.
The small, delicate-looking fist suddenly delivered a blow, not to the muscle-packed abdomen, but instead to the vulnerable area below, between his navel and the band of his jeans, only a breath from the engorged head of his cock.
The blow stole his breath an instant before he moved for her. Swinging away, he nearly had her before she suddenly dropped, rolled and came up behind him.
Before he could assimilate the surprise, her little foot landed in the back of his knee, stealing his balance and nearly taking him to the mat before he caught himself in a crouch.
The crouch and roll she executed before coming up behind him wasn’t a typical response to the threat of being held from behind, even for their female enforcers. For her height and lack of physical strength, it worked perfectly. It also gave her the opening to come at him again before he could respond with a countermove.
Within two breaths, he was placed on the defensive by the very fact that, with nimble grace, she managed to elude his grasp and stay just out of reach.
And he wasn’t playing with her.
Stygian had every intention of getting his hands on her and stripping her, first of that little top she wore. The one that tightened around her breasts and clearly showed the hard, pointed nipples beneath what appeared to be the lace of her bra.
The moves she was using weren’t those she would have been trained for by the Coyote females. They were Breed male moves with the addition of a graceful feminine twist, an unexpected arch, kick or jab. And if she absolutely had to, a low, swift crouch and roll that placed her just out of reach.
He was impressed.
He was even more impressed, not to say highly suspicious of the fact that she used them so well. So well that he was beginning to suspect that it wasn’t Ashley and Emma who had been training her. A male Breed had somehow been training her so secretively that he hadn’t heard about it.
And he wouldn’t have thought that were possible.
Remaining alert, keeping his eyes on her, Stygian arched his brow mockingly as she circled him, looking for an opening to bury that pretty little fist in some vulnerable area, no doubt.
When he saw his opening, he moved.
Ducking nearly to a crouch as she moved for him, Stygian managed to twist and come up behind her, both arms wrapping around her, trapping hers and shackling them to her side.
She didn’t attempt to move her arms. Her first, natural reaction would have been to struggle with her upper body. At least, that was what it should have been.
Instead, in another surprising move, she lifted both legs. The heel of one slammed into his knee, taking him to the mat.
Most men, warriors, soldiers, would have lost their hold. Stygian was really rather proud of the fact that he kept hold of her.
Intense satisfaction then filled him as he managed to wrestle her to the mat beneath him, his body holding hers trapped securely between him and the mat.
“Who’s been training you?” he snarled as he gave her ear an erotic little nip. “Tell me, mate, who have you been playing with?”
Not that it really mattered, Stygian thought as he rolled his hips against the gentle curve of her rear and allowed her to feel the hardened erection beneath his jeans. It didn’t matter, because from now on, she would only be playing with him. He would be her only sparring partner. Only he would be training her to do any damned thing.
Liza could feel her juices spilling from her pussy, dampening the folds beyond as well as her panties as Stygian forced a hard thigh between her legs, forcing them open, then spreading them further to allow his hips to wedge into the cradle he created.
“Answer me, mate,” he rasped as his incisors raked along the nape of her neck. “What Breed male has dared to train you so effectively?”
She forced a laugh past her lips—she had to force it, because all she wanted to do was moan and beg him to fuck her.
“What, us puny little humans aren’t allowed to use any of your Breed moves?” She knew better, but pushing him was the agenda.
Pushing him to lose control.
Pushing him to fuck her.
Pushing him to force her control from her and to allow her just a few moments of peace from the thoughts and fears that kept swirling through her mind.
“No Breed males have trained me for anything.” She kept the mockery thick in her voice.
He could detect a lie in her voice, and she had to be careful here.
No Breed males had been training her; instead, the Coyote females Ashley, Emma and Shiloh, and occasionally the Jaguar Breeds Chimera and Shiloh, and several Wolf Breed females. The other training she had was from the men that were part of the team she’d been assigned to with the underground network.