The documentaries they had watched over the years on Breeds were very enlightening. That, combined with every article they could get their hands on as well as every gossip rag Chelsea dragged into the apartment. Those stories, along with her father and grandfather’s stories of missing members of the Nation over the decades, filled her head.
She had never been as fascinated by other Breeds as she was with this one, though. And he was so obviously one of the baddest of the bad.
A Coyote Breed. The news story released days ago about the restructuring of the Breed communities had shown the Coyote Breeds’ new uniforms and identification.
The white curved fang on the left shoulder of the lightweight mission jacket, the new designation patch of the Coyote Breeds, showed clearly through the dim light of the bar. He would be carrying a picture ID and, if he were with the Bureau of Breed Affairs, an official badge and ID.
But she would have known he was a Breed without the uniform or the identification. They were easily picked out in a crowd. They were the most perfectly engineered creatures on the face of the earth and reflected the most perfect genetics that scientists could envision putting together to create a rough male beauty that seemed almost painful to look at.
The perfect height, the perfect strength and health. Perfect teeth, savage features for the males, classic beauty for the females—just perfectly, exquisitely dangerous.
A hell of a combination for a woman who now feared strength and danger.
“She’s not talking to us,” Liza pointed out, the smile obvious in the tone of her voice.
“’Cause he’s watching her,” Chelsea gasped in sudden surprise. “Oh my God, watch him stare at her. He’s, like, fascinated with her, Liza. Do you think she’s finally found a man she won’t say ‘no’ to?”
Isabelle dropped her gaze and closed her eyes for a quick moment, hoping to still the racing of her heart and the sudden knowledge that her friends, and possibly others, were watching now. That silent, hungry exchange shouldn’t be shared. She didn’t want others to see it. She didn’t want it remarked upon, or gossiped about. It seemed too deep, too intimate to spoil it in such a way.
There were few places a Breed could go where he or she wasn’t watched. Watched, judged, criticized and often feared. Just as their lovers, wives or even their friends were hated, reviled and insulted. She didn’t care if she was judged, or how she was judged, but that look, it was too special to risk, even here in one of the few places Breeds had found any acceptance.
The people of the Navajo Nation accepted them, did what they could to protect them and stood behind them when political or social reform was needed to ensure their safety and their survival.
It was one of the few places they could also trace their roots. Too many of the missing sons and daughters of the Navajo Nation had been taken by the Genetics Council for Breed research, and many of those families were desperate to claim the last ties to what they had lost.
Drawn irresistibly back to him, Isabelle lifted her eyes once again to find the Breed’s gaze supposedly drawn to her left of her. As though he were watching the entrance.
He seemed bored. Waiting with impatient patience, she thought, almost smiling at the contradiction. She knew he was watching her; she could feel his touch like a ghostly caress against her face. A sensation of warmth and sensual hunger washed through her.
His fingers gripped the glass again as he brought the drink to his lips and sipped. And though his gaze was to her side, she knew he could see exactly where she was and every move she made. Just as he no doubt knew she couldn’t keep her eyes off him.
“You are such a wuss.” Chelsea leaned close and whispered in her ear, her voice amused and challenging.
“Meaning?” Isabelle lifted her own drink, the same expensive whiskey the Breed had ordered.
“Meaning, go talk to him, dimwit,” Chelsea hissed, suddenly somber. “Come on, Isa, this could be the answer to your prayers. Holden wouldn’t dare come around you if he knew a Breed was interested in you. Not now and not later.”
Holden. God, she didn’t want to think about Holden.
She had fought to put that night behind her, to eradicate the fear from her life and from her nightmares. It was impossible, though. That night had become so imprinted on her brain that she couldn’t seem to shake the memories.
And she sincerely doubted anything or anyone would change Holden’s mind short of a bullet. Perhaps even death itself. He wouldn’t allow anyone, man or Breed, to stand between him and anything or anyone he decided he wanted. And he had decided not only did he want Isabelle, but he would have her. Whether she wanted him or not.
A shudder raced up her spine at the thought.
At the same time, the Breed’s gaze was suddenly locked with hers once again, unblinking, his dark eyes glittering dangerously. He watched her intently, his nostrils flared, his whole demeanor appearing on guard, as though he perceived some threat.
Isabelle could feel her mouth drying, nervous excitement and a hint of fear lacing the arousal she couldn’t seem to help.
She wished she knew more about the Breeds. Knew more about their strengths, or even their weaknesses. Amazingly, facts were sketchy, though the rumors were incredibly numerous.
Could he really smell her arousal?
Could he smell fear?
Did she care?
She licked her lips again. She had always held back where men were concerned, always refused to make the first move. She was still a virgin, determined to wait for the one man who would make the waiting worth it. In this case, the Breed she couldn’t resist. She had a feeling this Breed wouldn’t make that first move, though. Not with her. There was something in the air between them that assured her he would never allow her to hide from the fact that he was what she wanted. She would be woman enough to give an invitation that neither he nor anyone watching could mistake. If she wanted him, she would have to be woman enough to prove it.