“Talk about having a license to be an ass**le.” Chelsea gave a low whistle as she stared back at Liza. “Hell, normal men are a pain in the ass. But one who knew you couldn’t ever allow another man to touch you? A relationship where there’s no threat of divorce? An addiction to their kiss that you can’t get rid of, no matter how pissed you are, how bloated you feel or how bad your head really doesn’t hurt?”
Whoa, talk about a splash of cold water.
“I don’t think so,” Liza informed them both. “Not in this lifetime.”
“How much is true and how much is made up?” Chelsea questioned in disbelief. “How much can you believe? Surely it can’t be so bad or Isabelle would have shot Malachi by now. She’s no wimpy little miss when it comes to defending herself.”
“Fifty-fifty maybe?” Claire suggested.
“No way,” Chelsea retorted, shaking her head as she unclipped the rich black strands of her hair from tortoiseshell clips. “I’m going to say at least seventy-five percent has to be pure fiction. That leaves twenty-five percent in their favor. The f**k machines with a kiss that’s like an aphrodisiac. I draw a line at addictive. Sorry, girls.” She shrugged carelessly. “It’s not going to happen for any man in this lifetime. It would be far too easy for them to simply rule us. God wouldn’t allow it. He does have a sense of humor, you know.”
Liza nodded slowly.
Chelsea had to be right.
There were always checks and balances.
No way would nature give Breed males such a one-up on either the Breed or human females they encountered.
“So do we mention any of this to Ashley and the others when they get here tomorrow?” Chelsea asked.
“God, no! They’re Breeds!” Liza stared back at her friend, wondering if she had somehow lost her mind. “I love them like crazy, Chelsea, but we don’t mention this to anyone. We keep it to ourselves.”
The four Breed females Ashley Truing, Emma Truing, Chimera Broussard and Shiloh Gage had been training the girls to be a part of the Navajo-based Breed Underground Network for the past six months.
The underground network was a group of Navajos that aided the Breeds who required complete anonymity and a secure refuge from the Genetics Council. The network aided them in hiding once they managed to escape their labs, sheltered them, provided medical aid and ensured they found a place to bury who and what they had once been.
“We could find a way to question them, perhaps,” Claire suggested. “See if they’ll just give us a little hint. All based on the tabloid stories, of course.”
Liza shook her head fiercely. “We can’t chance they would lie to us, or worse yet, have more loyalty to their own than they do to friendship. We keep this to ourselves and see what happens.”
“Does that mean you get to be the first guinea pig?” Chelsea wagged her brows suggestively. “You’ll give deets, right? Surely you wouldn’t torture us like Isabelle does? She doesn’t tell us anything.”
“Yeah, I look all furry and stupid.” Liza snorted. “It means we watch our asses and forget about kissing one of them. At least for the time being,” she amended. She couldn’t deny herself at least the possibility of being able to kiss Stygian.
At least at a later date.
The other two nodded.
“Malachi is supposed to be in meetings with Wyatt and the other Alphas in the next few days. We’ll be able to talk to Isabelle without Malachi around then,” Chelsea decided.
“Maybe.” Liza nibbled on her fingernail nervously. “We’ll have to see.”
To which Chelsea straightened her shoulders and stared back at them with a look that was totally her: pure determined stubbornness. “Oh, trust me, he will. I promise you.” She smiled wickedly. “I’ll simply shed a few tears for my big sister. Bet me she won’t run him off to find out what baby sister’s problem is.”
“Wicked.” Liza breathed out in anticipation.
“Dangerous,” Claire warned, despite her awe at Chelsea’s daring.
But they were in agreement.
For the moment, it was wait and see.
And definitely, keep each other in the loop. What one learned, they had to tell the other two.
It would be the only way to be certain.
Stepping beneath the water, she closed her eyes and, just as during that meeting with Jonas Wyatt, she was assaulted with the images from the pictures the director had shown her.