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 br**sts 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 f**k 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 more 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 pu**y.
Hunger didn’t come close to describing the need rushing through her body.
Her ni**les 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 f**king her. But pushing the broad length of his c**k 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 pu**y.
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.