“God, no! They’re Breeds!” Liza stared back at her friend, wondering if she had somehow lost her mind. “I love them like crazy, Chelsea, but we don’t mention this to anyone. We keep it to ourselves.”
The four Breed females Ashley Truing, Emma Truing, Chimera Broussard and Shiloh Gage had been training the girls to be a part of the Navajo-based Breed Underground Network for the past six months.
The underground network was a group of Navajos that aided the Breeds who required complete anonymity and a secure refuge from the Genetics Council. The network aided them in hiding once they managed to escape their labs, sheltered them, provided medical aid and ensured they found a place to bury who and what they had once been.
“We could find a way to question them, perhaps,” Claire suggested. “See if they’ll just give us a little hint. All based on the tabloid stories, of course.”
Liza shook her head fiercely. “We can’t chance they would lie to us, or worse yet, have more loyalty to their own than they do to friendship. We keep this to ourselves and see what happens.”
“Does that mean you get to be the first guinea pig?” Chelsea wagged her brows suggestively. “You’ll give deets, right? Surely you wouldn’t torture us like Isabelle does? She doesn’t tell us anything.”
“Yeah, I look all furry and stupid.” Liza snorted. “It means we watch our asses and forget about kissing one of them. At least for the time being,” she amended. She couldn’t deny herself at least the possibility of being able to kiss Stygian.
At least at a later date.
The other two nodded.
“Malachi is supposed to be in meetings with Wyatt and the other Alphas in the next few days. We’ll be able to talk to Isabelle without Malachi around then,” Chelsea decided.
“Maybe.” Liza nibbled on her fingernail nervously. “We’ll have to see.”
To which Chelsea straightened her shoulders and stared back at them with a look that was totally her: pure determined stubbornness. “Oh, trust me, he will. I promise you.” She smiled wickedly. “I’ll simply shed a few tears for my big sister. Bet me she won’t run him off to find out what baby sister’s problem is.”
“Wicked.” Liza breathed out in anticipation.
“Dangerous,” Claire warned, despite her awe at Chelsea’s daring.
But they were in agreement.
For the moment, it was wait and see.
And definitely, keep each other in the loop. What one learned, they had to tell the other two.
It would be the only way to be certain.
Stepping beneath the water, she closed her eyes and, just as during that meeting with Jonas Wyatt, she was assaulted with the images from the pictures the director had shown her.
She saw their eyes, felt their pain, their fear. It would be hard not to. Those photos had been graphic in their detailed imagery of the children’s suffering.
Stepping back from the spray, she opened her eyes quickly, unwilling to see more.
Her parents had always told her she felt things too deeply, that she let things bother her too much. That vulnerability had caused her to get hurt more than once.
She’d never fallen in love though.
She was a virgin, and she had no idea what it felt like to want a man so totally and so completely that she was willing to give up her independence as well as her sense of self for him.
She wasn’t certain she could do it either. She’d spent far too many years holding herself aloof. She wasn’t certain if she could let go now and give herself to any man. And unfortunately, she wasn’t certain if she could give him her body without giving him her heart.
Even for a Breed who stared at her with black-blue eyes and an expression that assured her he held all the secrets of pleasure, and he was more than willing to share.
He was more than willing to show her all the sensual, dominant secrets she dreamed of, and all the fiery pleasure she ached for.
For a price.
Always for a price.
Nothing came for free, her mother had warned her.
There was always a price.
A price for laughing, for loving.
A price for living.
Now she wondered, exactly what was Stygian Black’s price?
CHAPTER 5
Liza hadn’t imagined the situation with Stygian could worsen. Surely she would have had a few days to settle her nerves.
Instead, the next morning he was on her doorstep, dressed in snug jeans and a dark T-shirt, that wicked black Harley parked in her driveway.
She guessed he hadn’t been lying the night before about having one. Not that she had really believed he was.
“Why are you here?” Gripping the door with desperate fingers, she stared back at him with a frown.
A grin curved his lips. “I hoped I could convince you to come out with me this morning.” He glanced at the white shorts that barely covered her thighs before his gaze drifted to the light peach cotton camisole top she wore. “Come on, Liza. Slide some jeans on and live dangerously for a few minutes. You know you want to.”
Oh, she wanted to, more than he could know.
“Not today.” Shaking her head, she backed up and prepared to close the door.
The slight smile on his lips shot a surge of sensation straight to her womb. It clenched with a heavy punch of need and sent that weakening spill of moisture between her thighs once again.
“I’m not dealing with you this morning.”
Releasing the door, she stalked back into the kitchen, searching desperately for a way to fight her reaction to him.
Turning to face him as she reached the sink, Liza’s lips parted breathlessly to find him so close her nose was nearly buried in the cotton of his shirt.
Lifting her eyes, she watched as his arms extended around her, his hands bracing on the cabinet behind her as he blocked her in.
Yeah, there was that dominance that both turned her on and warned her she was walking into the path of more danger than she could have ever imagined.
Her eyes jerked upward, becoming locked with his as his arms remained braced at each side of her, his gaze intent as he watched her closely.
“The scent of your arousal is about to get us both in a hell of a lot of trouble.”
Her eyes widened, because he was close enough that she could feel his erection pressing against her stomach. As her gaze dropped, she watched the blood pound in the vein at the side of his neck as a trickle of perspiration eased along the strong column.