“Information?” She was certain it was far more than simple male interest. Breeds never did anything for such a paltry reason.
“According to you, you have no information.”
No man should be able to pull off such mockery and confidence with such a simple statement.
Pursing her lips and staring back at him ruefully, she admitted she was biting off far more than she could chew with this man.
“So we’re just here to get to know each other better?” Crossing one leg over the other, she propped her elbow on her knee and rested her chin in the palm of her hand as she contemplated him.
“Is that so wrong?” Amusement filled the black and navy gaze.
“It depends on why you’re so interested.” And why she was so interested, when the thought of a lover had never been high on her list of priorities?
Men tended to believe their women had to be protected, controlled.
Liza had no intention of being controlled.
“You sound as though you’ve come to your own conclusions as to my interest.” Bracing his palms on the table behind him, he leaned back and watched her with wicked male amusement.
Shrugging, Liza arched her brows at his comment. “There are a lot of rumors where a Breed’s interest in a woman is concerned. Rumors of addictive kisses, a Breed’s ability to control their lovers through some hormonal reaction to those kisses. All those stories could make a girl nervous.”
She was nervous.
She’d watched Isabelle in the weeks since she’d become Malachi’s lover, and the signs that the rumors could be true were all there.
“You’re listening to rumors?” The chuckle that left his lips matched the laughter in his gaze. “I would have thought you’d know better, considering your friend is a Breed’s lover. They’re considering marriage, you know.”
Liza couldn’t control her own mockery at that point. “They’ve been together less than two months and they’re already discussing marriage. Isabelle is so wrapped up in that Breed, nothing else matters any longer.”
Even the position Isabelle had attained on the team she’d trained with since she was a teenager was no longer important.
For some reason, Isabelle now considered herself a danger to the team, and none of them could figure out why.
Unless the rumor that lovers who were “mated” to a Breed carried a scent other Breeds could detect. Especially Coyote Breeds who worked for the Genetics Council. Add that to the fact that the reported attacks against Breeds and their lovers in the past few years by suspected Genetics Council Breeds were all against Breeds in committed relationships with their lovers. So committed there was no time, no room and no interest in anything else.
“What are you getting at, Liza?” Leaning forward, his booted feet planted squarely on the bench as he planted his broad forearms on his knees, he watched her thoughtfully. “I swear, I can feel that suspicious little mind of yours beating around something here.”
“The rumors of ‘mating heat’?” she questioned. “If that’s why you’re sniffing around me, then I’d just like to say right now I’d prefer not to be so chained to a man that I can’t get five minutes out of his sight.”
A smile curved his lips, but the amusement had dissipated just marginally from his gaze for the slightest second. If she hadn’t been watching his expression closely, she would have missed it.
“Come on, Liza,” he chastised her gently. “If it existed, don’t you think someone would have come forward already?”
She shrugged at the question. “The National Rumor says there’s a kill order against anyone who verifies information concerning Breed mating heat.”
Stygian had to laugh at that. Not because it wasn’t true. Because she’d gotten straight to the point and didn’t hesitate to inform him she wasn’t interested.
He would have let it go if he didn’t know for a damned fact she was more than interested. She could lie with her lips, but her body hadn’t yet learned how to play along.
“That rag? Sweetheart, you should try reading the National Press. It’s more fact than fantasy.” He evaded the implied question carefully.
Not that she was willing to back down. He doubted she backed down from much at all.
“The National Press is owned by the Tyler family,” Liza snorted. “Their baby sister is married to Callan Lyons, leader of the Feline Prides. I wouldn’t exactly suspect the paper of being impartial, would you?”
She had him there. But for the moment, he stuck to his evasion rather than the truth and prayed she didn’t push him any closer to lying.
Lying to his mate just somehow seemed wrong.