“Not one you can attend.”
Oh, that unbothered, unemotional attitude of hers was going to get her ass in trouble.
Better yet, it was going to get her ass f**ked.
The need to take her down, to heat her arousal to boiling point and find that point of feminine submission was becoming a hunger Stygian knew neither of them was going to escape. Especially if she kept this attitude up.
“If you have to do this, let’s get it over with. I’ll be ready for bed early tonight,” she stated as she headed for the door.
Stygian clenched his teeth, forcing back his growl as he followed her.
She would be ready for bed early tonight?
Oh, she didn’t want to mention that bed right now. She really wanted to do her best to keep his mind off that bed.
“This is stupid, dragging me around like this,” she informed as she stopped at the door and turned back to face him. “I do have things to do, Stygian.”
There was no anger in her face. None in her eyes.
Son of a bitch, he wasn’t mated to a f**king mannequin, and her impression of one was starting to piss him the hell off.
He was not going to get into a confrontation with her, he told himself—told the animal snarling inside him.
He’d be damned if he’d force the lust he knew was inside her to rise, even though he knew if he pissed her off enough, she’d relieve the ache torturing his balls.
She’d have no choice.
If he pushed hard enough, it would burn inside her as well. It was that push he had the problem with. He wanted a willing mate, one who came to him without a push or coercion.
One that came to him because she needed and ached for him as desperately as he did for her.
Opening the door and allowing her to precede him, he was suddenly struck by the faintest hint of the mating scent. Just a hint, nothing overt or heavy.
What the hell was up with that?
Every mate he had ever come in contact with had held a heavy mating scent. It was always unmistakable, and always heavy enough to ensure all other Breed males were warned away.
“Why do you need to go to the gym?” she asked as they moved into the hall to join Flint, Mutt and Dog. The fact that the mating scent was so subtle had his animal instincts pacing restlessly.
Glancing at the three men, the only thing that eased the dangerous rising possessiveness was the fact that each of them seemed completely unaware of Liza as anything other than his mate, despite the less than normal strength of the mating scent.
Strangely, Mutt, being his normal glowering self, was in the best mood of the three.
“Wow, we’re having a party today,” Liza observed mockingly as she too, obviously, noticed the lack of a genial mood.
“No kidding,” Mutt grumbled. “It’s sure as hell not been the Fourth of f**king July for the past twenty-four hours. I swear they’re”—he jerked his head toward Flint and Dog—“gonna start depressin’ me soon.” His deliberate country drawl had just the right amount of twang at the exact slow, deliberate speed needed to pull off the backwoods accent.
No one would ever have guessed that the Coyote the Genetics Council had called Mutt was actually so well spoken that detecting any sort of accent was usually impossible.
“What gives?” Stygian asked as they all entered the elevator, automatically placing Liza protectively between the four of them in the center of the cubicle.
“What gives is being stuck in this damned town babysitting,” Dog growled irritably, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “I’d rather be out hunting.”
“Hunting what?” Flint growled. “Even the natural prey is staying hidden. As if they would be in any f**king danger anyway. These three just enjoy the chase. Give them the chance to kill and they lose all interest.”
“Yeah, at least our chase is actually the hunting kind. Not many of us are into outrunning them,” Mutt grunted. “You’re strange, Flint.”
“Give me a break,” Liza muttered. “You’re all strange.”