"And you're holding information vital to a member of the Breed Ruling Cabinet,"
he reminded her. "Information you're refusing to hand over. Very carefully placed, very subtly written in the public laws, but clearly spelled out in the Breed version, such an act committed by Breed, human, a member of Haven or Sanctuary or not, is an offense against Breed Law."
She hadn't considered that. She remembered now listening during several pure blood society meetings as Breed laws, the public ones, were discussed. That particular law had come into question as the members of that society had tried to define it. There had been no other way to understand it other than as Styx just explained it.
"Okay, so I want to avoid Breed Law a bit longer," she stated with an attempt at flippancy. "What do I have to do?"
"Just as I said." He released her as though her flesh burned. "Stay at my side and at least try to pretend that you consider yourself my woman. That's the only way I can protect you at the moment."
His woman.
God, what would it mean to be his woman? To bask in the security of his hold each night, to live the life he lived, to soak in the peace and camaraderie she witnessed in the courtyard each night.
But she wasn't his woman, and as she stared back at him, another memory of the discussions over Breed Law surfaced. A discreetly worded law concerning Breed wives or lovers. Something to the effect that should a Breed take a wife or husband who had committed crimes against Breed Law, then the crimes committed would be erased unless the individual broke Breed Law after the "joining." Not the marriage, but the "joining."
So, essentially, becoming a Breed's lover, partner or wife, was a "get out of jail free" card. Which made no sense whatsoever, but whatever, she could go along with that for a while.
"Fine." She shrugged, though that memory had the power to only intensify the feeling of impending doom she couldn't shake. "But I still don't understand why my presence is so required."
"The nature of the celebration," he informed her. "To allow your guards to attend the celebration, you must be there as well."
"Ah." She nodded, her tone sarcastic. "It all makes sense now. Fine, Styx, I'll be there and I'll be a good girl, just for you."
And she would try desperately to make sense of the emotions, the fears and all the assorted needs that were suddenly rising inside her as she attempted to figure out where the sense of danger was coming from.
"I simply can't see you as being a good girl," he grunted. "But I'll settle for polite non-interference."
"Polite non-interference I can handle," she assured him with a patently false smile. "Polite interference is so much more fun though. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer that? I could really liven your party up, Wolf."
Polite interference was her motto where the Breeds were concerned. Or at least, it had been before her arrival at Haven.
His head tilted to the side as though he were considering the option. Slowly, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowed on her.
"I would remember one thing, Sugar," he drawled, his voice a rasped, husky croon of invitation. "I know how to tame that little wild streak you enjoy allowing free occasionally."
He was teasing her back. Somehow, he had figured out that beneath the anger and the fear lay a small, untapped reservoir of teasing amusement. She rarely had the opportunity to share it, or to enjoy it, but the thought of playing, just for a few moments, with Styx was too exciting to resist.
It was a spur-of-the-moment pleasure. An opportunity to save a memory, because she knew the time was going to come, very soon, when she would have to run from him.
When staying here would become such a hazard, not just for her, but for him as well, that she would have no option but to escape.
"I wouldn't say you tame it," she murmured, holding back her smile as she pulled a pair of jeans from the dresser and paired them with a violet tank top with thin straps.
"I would say I definitely tame it," he assured her as she adjusted the tank top over the camisole before taking a seat on the bed and pulling on socks. "Maybe you simply exhaust it for a minute?"
She shouldn't be doing this. That sudden thought blazed through her mind as his low, deep chuckle stroked across her senses. They had barely spoken since the night before. He'd held her in his arms as she slept, his head tucked above her as he pulled her back against his chest.
He'd been up and out of there before she awoke, and he'd been gone most of the day. And instead of remaining angry, instead of holding to her promise to herself to remain aloof, instead she was flirting with him.
"Just for a minute?" he teased her.
"Maybe two." She adjusted the socks on her feet then pulled the low, lace-up boots from beneath the bed and pushed them on.
She had sneakers. She had a single pair of nice sandals, but it was the boots she was reaching for.
"You should smile more often, Storme," he stated as she lost the curve of her lips and stared down at the boots. "I sense a woman that longs to live rather than survive, yet if I let you walk out the gates of Haven today, then once clear of them you would run harder and faster than ever before."
She laced up her boots, wishing she hadn't allowed him to see that loss of amusement. But he would have known, she reminded herself. He could sense it, smell it.