CHAPTER 12
For the first time since aiding the development of the Wolf Breed community, a week later Styx almost regretted one of the few responsibilities he had toward it. One such duty was the occasional pig roast for mated anniversaries.
Dash Sinclair and his mate, Elizabeth, were celebrating the ten-year mark of their mating on the next evening, and the surprise celebration had been planned for months.
Cassie had planned most of the event, and Styx knew this gift to them was very important to her. She wanted to show her parents the value of what they had done for her. Getting her to understand it was no more than any parent would do wasn't easy.
Her life hadn't been an easy one. When she had come to Wolfe and Hope with the idea of the celebration, the alpha pair had wholeheartedly embraced it because Dash had been instrumental in many of the advancements and contacts the Wolf Breed society had gained since the former Army Ranger had declared his Breed status.
Prepping the pig was time-consuming, but a project Styx could do while he thought about things. The fire pit was already prepared, lined, and the coals were glowing red hot as he wrapped the prepared pork in heavy baking foil and set it in the cast iron carrier that would be used to lower it into the pit and to retrieve it when it was ready.
But the activity separated him from Storme, and in the past days, since her attempted escape, something had changed within her. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on or explain.
She seemed quieter, more thoughtful. She still hadn't yet joined the community dinners in the evenings, but now he could see the hunger to do so in her eyes.
There were times he would have given anything to see or to hear what she was thinking when she sat on the back deck of the cabin each evening and watched the hilarity that ensued when they all came together.
Once or twice, he swore he had even caught her on the verge of laughing as the evening progressed and the men attempted to get the hang of a game of touch football or soccer.
They were accomplished athletes, but male Breeds were highly competitive and could become snarling, sweat-soaked friendly adversaries as the games progressed.
Still though, she hadn't joined the fun, nor had she come from the deck to draw closer to it. And her expressions had the power to worry him now.
She seemed almost saddened, as though a part of her just couldn't fight something anymore, and he feared she was giving up on some part of herself.
The mating heat hadn't progressed; he was still tortured by a mating that wasn't.
He'd marked her, he could smell his scent on her, but the full heat still remained just out of reach.
Nodding to Navarro to take the other side of the heavy burden, Styx lifted the guest pork and helped carry it to the pit prepared in the middle of the courtyard. Chains attached to the sides of the carrier were then attached to a large hook used to maneuver it and lower it into the hot coals. It was then covered and all they had to do now was wait for the succulent meat to cook.
"It's going to be a hell of a party," Navarro commented as he stepped back and carefully dusted off his hands.
Styx nearly grinned at the Breed's fastidiousness. Navarro was a Custom Class Breed, a Breed created and trained to infiltrate political, social or elite influential societies. Styx called him the "pretty boy" of Haven. He preferred not to get his hands dirty, his hair was always perfectly cut and styled, his clothing always tailored to perfectly fit his tall, corded frame.
"Cassie has it planned to the last minute," Styx murmured in amusement.
"Will your woman be attending?" Navarro asked, surprising Styx with the question.
The other Breed called her his "woman," not his mate. The knowledge of the fact that every Breed in Haven could sense that he hadn't marked her, had his back teeth gritting in anger.
"Perhaps," he answered shortly.
"I can sense the bond there, Styx," Navarro commented. "But you haven't yet mated her. What's holding your Wolf back?"
Styx stared back at the other Breed. "It's not the Wolf holding back, it's the woman."
Navarro grunted at that. "The woman doesn't produce the mating hormone, my friend," Navarro informed him. "She's only subject to it. Therefore, it seems to me it's your Wolf holding back."
"Or her acceptance," Styx growled. "I always wondered at the impression of force the mating hormone gave. That it took choice from the female's hands. I believe Storme is retaining control by refusing to accept ..."
"Or you are."
Styx gave a low, warning growl. "She's my mate. I accept that."
"But does your Wolf?" Navarro posed the question curiously. "This mating phenomenon intrigues me, Styx. This is the first time a Breed has been held back from his mate in such a way. Perhaps you are the one who refuses to accept a mate that feels such prejudice toward you. A mate that refuses to accept her lover is human as well as animal."
Styx forced himself to hold back the anger that demanded a physical repercussion for the slight toward his acceptance of his mate.