The Council scientists knew, and the Breeds knew, and she had been running from both for the past ten years.
She was tired of running, but there was a part of her that still refused to give up the information she had.
Glancing down at her hands, she watched as she twisted her mother's antique ring on her finger. The wedding band her father had given her mother had been in the Montague family for generations upon generations. The diamonds, sapphires and emeralds were family jewels, the blues and greens family colors. And Storme was now the last of the Montague line. There were no sons left to carry on the name, and there would be no daughters left to wear the ring.
The ring had been intended for James's wife, a wife he had never had because the danger of the job he had undertaken with his father had been too great.
Creating Breeds.
She glared across the room at the four Breeds. Monsters. Animals. She hated every damned one of them. As far as she was concerned, there was no crime greater than that of creating such farcical replications of humans and trying to convince the world they deserved to move freely among them.
Hatred swirled inside her for the loss of her father, her brother, the loss of her childhood and the dreams she had had of freedom. Dreams that had never come to fruition because each time she thought she had found peace, Breeds had managed to find her.
It didn't matter if they were the few Breeds still aligned with the Council or those who proclaimed to desire nothing but peace and freedom. They were all killers. They all wanted her for a reason, for the information they thought she had.
As she glared across the room, his head turned. Blue eyes, radiating amusement and warmth, met hers and locked. For the space of no more than a second, Storme felt mesmerized, locked in a circle of hatred, anger, laughter and hunger.
She had rarely looked into a Breed's eyes. They were too intuitive, their senses too sharp to hide from if they managed to look into your eyes. But this time, for that second as the crowd parted, his gaze held her.
Then, like an erratic school of fish, dancing bodies separated them, flowed between them, breaking the contact but leaving Storme assured that she was hidden no longer.
She came out of the booth instantly, moving along the edge of the crowd at a near run as she headed to the rest-rooms at the back of the bar.
She would hide there a few minutes then see about slipping out the back entrance of the bar.
She had to get out of there. She had rushed inside to hide, only to find the four bastards that had obviously been tailing her. She had thought, this close to Haven, the Wolf Breed sanctuary, that maybe she could rest for a few days, stay hidden, and figure out what to do next.
They were getting too close. Her hotel room had been ransacked the night before; the only reason she hadn't been there was that she had slipped out for fast food and walked to a nearby restaurant rather than driving. Her car had been parked in the parking lot of the hotel, and in addition to the belongings in her room being destroyed, the car had been broken into also.
There was no escape there. Until she acquired another vehicle, she was fucked. If she didn't get the damned Breeds off her ass, then she was fucked anyway.
As she rushed through the crowd, several couples parted at once; a path was created, then suddenly blocked as she slammed against a hard, wide chest.
Her gaze jerked up, locked. Her lips parted in shock, a shudder racing through her as warm hands gripped her shoulders lightly and canines flashed in a smile.
"Weel now, I was goin' for a drink, but I could be convinced to settle for a wee dance," he laughed.
She noticed it then. The music as it moved into a slow, dark strain of desperate love and passion unquenched.
Her hands pressed to his chest as his moved to her hips and he pulled her easily the rest of the way to the dance floor she had been moving by.
She'd taken a scent neutralizer earlier, one of the precious last few she possessed. She prayed it worked.
She was too shocked to fight. In all her life she had never found herself this close to a Breed, in a situation so shockingly dangerous that it could destroy her world in an instant.
"Do ye need the ladies' room so desperately that a dance will interfere?" he asked as she continued to stare up at him. "Ye look as though the hounds of hell chase ye, lass. I can wait a moment or two if I must."
He didn't know who she was? Didn't know her scent?
She shook her head. "I didn't expect to see Breeds here." The lightness of the response was desperate, and she was certain it fell far short of the casual comment she'd intended.
"Don't be frightened, please." Sincerity suddenly marked his expression as they moved slowly to the music, more because he was leading than from her own conscious thought. "My friends and myself are just takin' a break from a wee bit of business is all."
"Business?" She swallowed tightly. "This close to Haven, that's not unusual, I guess."
He chuckled at that, and she was shocked at the husky warmth of the sound.
"It should be unusual. Alas, I find myself at the end of this particular job though, and I'm lookin' forward to the downtime."
"A job? I thought Breeds were taken care of by the government?" She knew they were. The bastards didn't have to do anything. The only jobs they seemed to have were those of tracking down scientists and murdering them.
He grimaced at her comment as she felt his fingertips stroke down the back of her jacket, as though caressing her spine. "Lass, no mon or government takes care of me. I've a mind to pay my own way."
"What sort of work do you do then?" Keeping conversation going was imperative. Keeping her mind away from the fact that she was in a Breed's arms would be the only way to stay sane.
"I've been aiding a friend in a small investigation the past year or so." He shrugged as though it didn't matter. "Too little information and too many false leads have brought me home though. Finally."
He sounded tired, not as tired as she knew she was, but at least weary of whatever game he had been playing with her.
"Your friend didn't have all the information you needed then?" She didn't have to pretend interest.
"Too little information and too little cash," he chuckled. "Perhaps when he can pay my fee, we'll be talkin' again."
Too little information. Too little pay. Navarro might know what she looked like, but it seemed she had stayed far enough ahead of them that the other Breed hadn't been able to point her out to his friend.
She never took pictures. The driver's license she carried was under an assumed name, just as the credit cards she carried were.
"You're going back to Haven then?" she asked, wishing he would hurry and go. Wishing he had left before he managed to run into her.
"Only if ye make me, lass. I could spend the night in much more interesting pursuits than those to be found at Haven if you're willing."
Styx Mackenzie was a flirt, a true Breed man-whore, she had often thought. He wasn't as newsworthy as other Breeds, but he had a following of female groupies who congregated on the Internet, and who posted every sighting of him possible. Whose home he was seen entering, what time the next morning he left. His current lovers, past lovers and possible potential lovers.
He made no secret of his approval of their posts each time he joined them online, and despite his attempts to remain camera shy, he was caught often in both video as well as photo.
He was becoming the poster guy for the flirtatious, unthreatening Breed. Which never failed to shock her, because the potential for killing was there in his eyes.
Wasn't it?
"No answer? Is that a stern and forbiddin' no then?" That smile flashed, and those blue eyes filled with warmth and a latent lust that had her thighs tensing.