For a moment, panic and fear receded beneath an onslaught of such intense pleasure that her knees weakened.
Gripping his shoulders, Storme held on for the tumultuous ride, unable to do anything for heart-stopping seconds but meet his lips and tongue and draw as much of the pleasure around her as possible.
One hand lay at her hip, holding her to him as the other stroked up her side until his wide palm could cup and weight the curve of her breast.
An enterprising thumb stroked over the hard peak, sending spikes of dark, wicked sensation to spread through her body as she arched into him, suddenly hungry for more.
"No!" It was a moan rather than a demand as Storme jerked back from him.
She stumbled back against the wall, fighting a need that seemed to burn through her womb, into her pu**y, and wrap around her clit like a lover's caress.
The itch beneath her flesh was turning to a burn. Until he touched her. Her entire body felt wrapped in static electricity, her skin humming in pleasure at the feel of him against her.
"No?" He stared at her from beneath heavily lashed lids, the glitter in his blue eyes heatedly sensual. "Sugar, I could eat you like chocolate you taste so damned good."
She would have delivered a scathing retort if a knock at the front door hadn't drawn her attention. She turned, staring across the room, over the open counter space to the heavy wood door on the opposite side of the living room.
With an amused arch of his brows Styx moved through the other room to open the door and greet the arrival.
"Jonas. Rachel. Welcome to my home," he said to greet the couple as they stepped into the living room and then moved to the kitchen, where Storme crossed her arms over her br**sts and glared back at them. She didn't consider them welcome at all.
Storme fought to ignore them. She concentrated instead on the soft light that filled the area, bouncing off gleaming stone counters and shimmering wood cabinets that were obviously old and well polished.
Modern appliances filled the room along with an oval six-chair table that sat in the middle of a stone floor just a few shades lighter than the toasted cream color of the counters.
The open design of the cabin allowed Storme to see the large living area from there. An open fireplace gave a peek into a bedroom that seemed to fill one end of the cabin. The other end held two other bedrooms, with a shared bathroom and linen closet and small office between.
As Jonas and his wife entered the kitchen, the back door opened and Storme watched as Navarro Blaine and another Breed stepped into the room. There were too many Breeds here. She felt surrounded by them and it was terrifying.
She was still weak, unable to fight. The adhesive at her hip hadn't had time to seal the wound from her attempt to escape, and she could feel the additional bruises on her ribs from her contact with too many large rocks on the ground.
She was sore, hungry, certain she was running a fever, and she just wanted to be left the hell alone to rest again and suffer in peace. If she was going to be stuck here, the least they could do was allow her to be miserable in peace.
As the Breeds filled the kitchen, Storme moved cautiously from the room and stepped into the living room, until she was standing in front of the fireplace staring at the wide, luxurious autumn brown leather couch. A heavy coffee table sat between her and the couch, and to the side of that was an autumn red recliner that looked large enough for three of her.
The electronic glass of the coffee table was darkened by the computerized components that likely ran and programmed the television, stereo system and holographic Internet and entertainment capabilities. It was state-of-the-art, and she would have loved to have gotten her hands on it and investigated the various options it was programmed with.
A wide-screen television hung over the fireplace, a compact music station on the wall over the opposite fireplace, the heavy front door and a wet bar in the wall next to the kitchen.
A Breed bachelor pad, perhaps, with all the amenities.
"Navarro, have the bars on the windows been checked for tampering?" Styx questioned the other Breed as they stared at her through the opening above the counter.
Storme crossed her arms over her br**sts and stared back at both men mutinously.
"Everything's taken care of," Navarro said and nodded. "There was some slight tampering to the locks as well as few of the bars, where the bolts secure them. It seems we have enterprising wildlife of late. Surely your guest wouldn't have attempted anything so outrageous?" Mockery filled the other Wolf's voice as Storme glared back at him furiously.
Bastard. She had been certain no one could have detected the probing attempts she had made to check the security of the bars.
"I'm honored that y'all would go to all that trouble for little ole me," Storme drawled sarcastically as the nervous tension began to get the best of her. "Bars on the windows, guards at the door. Why, the next thing you know I'll be on a bread and water diet."
"We take care of all our guests similarly," Navarro assured her. "We're far more hospitable than the Council. They'd lock you in a cell and leave you to rot without the bread and water."
Storme glared back at him. Damned smart-ass. Even in the labs, under the rule of soldiers who enjoyed beating the hell out of him if they got the chance, Navarro had been a sarcastic bastard.
"Enough, Navarro," Styx ordered softly. "As long as she's here, she's mine."
"As long as she stinks of fear and prejudice, she's the enemy," Navarro stated matter-of-factly, his expression, voice and entire demeanor cool and unaffected. "It's hard to imagine JR having a child that hated something he loved as much as he loved the Breeds he helped create."