Her lips parted to refuse. She couldn’t afford to become involved with him.
Not with him or any other man.
“I brought the motorcycle.” His head lowered, his lips at her ear, the warmth of his breath teasing the sensitive flesh. “The wind in your hair. The night surrounding us.”
“Danger stalking us? A Breed who’s obviously searching for a ghost and believes I could lead him to her?” she asked, incredulous. “How intelligent does that sound?”
“Do you think I wouldn’t protect you? That where I took you I would allow you to be in any danger?”
“Control the world that easily, do you?” She snorted. “Besides, I’m not exactly dressed for a motorcycle ride.”
But he could feel the desire inside her to go with him. To take that chance.
“Talk to Chelsea, have her exchange clothing with you,” he suggested. “Come on, Liza, be brave,” he dared her.
He sensed her need to do just that, to step outside of herself. The animal inside him could feel that need.
That dark, inner core of a woman so locked down, so hidden inside her subconscious that he wondered if even she was aware of it.
“Why me?” The question was whispered against his ear as he bent closer to her, nuzzling her hair from her neck as he moved her around the dance floor.
“Why you?” The rumble of the growl was involuntary at the slender column of her neck as he spoke. “Because I’ve been so hard for you, and only you, for the past two days, that I swear my dick is going to permanently have the imprint of my jeans zipper.”
Her breath caught.
Liza felt the overwhelming need to push her own boundaries, to ask Chelsea to change clothes with her, to slip onto the back of his motorcycle and escape into the night with him.
“I want you, Liza,” he said. “My lips on yours, slow and easy, then deeper. Harder. I want to lick your lips, taste them. Then, I want to taste the rest of you. Every inch of your sweet body.”
Every inch?
Her thighs clenched, her clit swelling, moisture gathering between the folds of her pu**y at the thought of him touching her—tasting her—there.
“I can’t do this.” She didn’t know if she could allow herself to take what he was offering. The implications of the cost could well be more than she could bear.
She could sense it. Deep, deep inside herself she could sense the knowledge that by allowing Stygian to take her, she would be destroying herself in ways she never wanted to face.
“No.” The music eased away as she suddenly pulled from his arms, forcing herself away from him as she gave her head a hard shake. “I can’t do this. I just can’t—”
Catching her arm as she turned away from him, Liza found herself facing a full-grown, dominant, lust-driven Breed intent on having the woman who dared arouse him in such a way.
“This isn’t good-bye,” he assured her. “We’re not finished. I came here to spend the evening with you, Liza. And I mean to do just that.”
As a fast tune began blaring from the band, Stygian shot the singer a hard glare before leading Liza from the dance floor. The fact that he wasn’t pleased with the music was more than apparent.
The fact that he wanted her was even more apparent.
Malachi had warned her that a Breed, once certain that the woman he wanted was as drawn to him, could only be turned away if he knew the object of his lust, his affection, or whatever they called it, if her objections were stronger than her need.
Breeds didn’t force the sexual aspects, they didn’t stalk, nor did they harass. They charmed, cajoled and teased. They built the hunger and the need until their potential lovers fell willingly into their arms.
He’d been a fount of information after he and Isabelle had become lovers.
Or mates.
A tremble of trepidation skated across her nerve endings as he led her back to the table where her friends waited.
The plans she and the team were discussing before his arrival would have to wait. Stygian was on the prowl and he’d found his prey. He wouldn’t be walking away anytime soon.