Pretty much.
The mocking thought had a rush of guilt pricking at his senses.
“Come on, Liza.” Sighing, he scratched at his jaw and watched her thoughtfully. “Do you need an excuse for wanting me so desperately that you’ll believe any trash story you find to explain it?”
“Why not?” Her brow arched suggestively. “It beats believing I’m suddenly so tired of living that I’ve chosen suicide by Breed.”
“Suicide by Breed?” Incredulity filled his expression then. “How do you figure that one? Baby, we might kill ourselves f**king, but I’d never physically harm you.”
Her face flushed, but the sudden darkening of her gray eyes and the scent of her pu**y heating further assured him it wasn’t from anger or embarrassment.
“Emotional suicide by Breed.” She shrugged, though the subtle scent of her wariness wrapped around him like an invisible cloud.
“Emotional suicide?” he questioned her. “Do you think you’re in danger of losing your heart to me, Liza?”
“Only if you’re in danger of being honest with me.” She snorted. “I detest liars.”
“Honesty goes both ways, baby,” he retorted. “If you want it, then you have to give it as well.”
How could one woman look and smell so f**king innocent no matter the provocation?
“Your boss has no doubt had me so thoroughly investigated that the lot of you know the last time I masturbated.”
She didn’t even flush as she made the statement.
Innocence, sensuality and pure bravado.
Damn, she should have been born a Breed.
“The masturbating part we’re actually uncertain of,” he stated with a grin. “But next time you go there I wouldn’t mind an invitation to join you.”
The grin that edged her lips had his dick swelling impossibly harder and his balls drawing so tight they felt tortured.
Hell, no woman should have the ability to destroy a man’s senses so easily.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” The look she threw him was less than reassuring.
He wasn’t going to hold his breath waiting on that invitation.
And wasn’t that too bad.
Damn, he was killing himself here, aching for her as he’d never ached for anything in his life.
He was here on a mission. A mission he’d been working for over a decade: Find Honor Roberts. This woman didn’t appear to be the one he was searching for, but he was damned if he could pull himself away from her.
Watching as she shifted her head, her eyes moving to the lake again as her expression turned thoughtful, he realized there was nothing about this woman he didn’t like.
Her strength. Her will. Her pride and determination.
She would make him crazy, but every instinct he possessed assured him this woman was one he’d gladly spend his days—and his nights—with.
“My family and I used to picnic here nearly every Sunday for years when I was a kid,” she said softly, nostalgia and wariness mixing with a near-undetectable scent of deception.
What could she possibly be hiding from him here? Now?
Or was she trying to distract him?
He didn’t doubt that in the least. Fortunately for her, he was already pretty distracted and really had only wanted to spend a few hours with her.
She was his mate, after all.
The need to get to know her, to understand the woman behind the secrets was nearly as fierce as his need to possess her. To cover her—to mark her. Hell, to wrap her in so much pleasure she couldn’t even consider living a single day without him or his touch.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever been on a picnic,” he said with a faint smile. “That wasn’t exactly part of our training.”
A faint frown touched her brow, though she didn’t glance back at him. “Every kid should know how great a picnic is. I remember when the first Breed came here to Window Rock after Callan Lyons made his incredible announcement that Breeds existed. He called himself Gabriel. He was there searching for his family. He told Dad what training versus raising truly meant.”
Stygian nodded. “More than half the Breeds created died in the first three months from lack of touch and care. The nurses didn’t hold or cuddle us. They fed us. They removed the pads beneath us when they were soiled and bathed us when they had to.”
Stygian didn’t remember that, though some Breeds claimed to remember their own infant years.
Being a Breed had been hell until the rescues. But life wasn’t bad now.
Actually, sometimes, it was pretty damned good.
“Did Gabriel find his family?” Stygian finally asked when Liza said nothing more.
She breathed out heavily. “A half sister. His mother was one of the lucky ones. She was released, rather than killed, after giving birth to her second child. She later had a daughter but died in childbirth. Gabriel disappeared with her just after finding her.”
Stygian watched her closely, knowing there was more to the story than the brief moment in Gabriel’s life that she had mentioned. Like many Breeds, Gabriel, whoever he may be, had gone searching for roots that were often destroyed long before a Breed ever escaped.
“So, you tell me something now,” she demanded, her look thoughtful.
“Ask.” He would answer if he could.
“Why were you named Stygian?”
He chuckled at the question. “Breeds developed a habit in the labs, long before release, of naming themselves. Many, like Gabriel, took biblical names. They believed if we took the names of those God had found favor in, from the Bible, then He would find favor in us as well and gift us with a chance to see Heaven, as our human cousins took for granted.”
“You didn’t take a biblical name,” she pointed out.
“True.” Inclining his head in agreement, he allowed a smile to curve his lips. “I had a trainer who didn’t always follow the Council’s directives. From the time I was ten until my rescue at twenty, he convinced me that my chances at an afterlife were just as good as those of any human ever born.”
“Man or woman cannot take that first breath of life without first the gift of the soul that only God can bequeath.” She recited the declaration President Andrews had made when he had accepted and signed into law the mandates of Breed Law.
“Exactly,” he agreed.
“So why did you choose the name Stygian Black?” She looked at him, her dove gray eyes somber.