Too little information. Too little pay. Navarro might know what she looked like, but it seemed she had stayed far enough ahead of them that the other Breed hadn't been able to point her out to his friend.
She never took pictures. The driver's license she carried was under an assumed name, just as the credit cards she carried were.
"You're going back to Haven then?" she asked, wishing he would hurry and go.
Wishing he had left before he managed to run into her.
"Only if ye make me, lass. I could spend the night in much more interesting pursuits than those to be found at Haven if you're willing."
Styx Mackenzie was a flirt, a true Breed man-whore, she had often thought. He wasn't as newsworthy as other Breeds, but he had a following of female groupies who congregated on the Internet, and who posted every sighting of him possible. Whose home he was seen entering, what time the next morning he left. His current lovers, past lovers and possible potential lovers.
He made no secret of his approval of their posts each time he joined them online, and despite his attempts to remain camera shy, he was caught often in both video as well as photo.
He was becoming the poster guy for the flirtatious, unthreatening Breed. Which never failed to shock her, because the potential for killing was there in his eyes.
Wasn't it?
"No answer? Is that a stern and forbiddin' no then?" That smile flashed, and those blue eyes filled with warmth and a latent lust that had her thighs tensing.
God, she was wet!
She felt the sharp inhalation of surprise that she couldn't hide. She was aroused.
That easily, that quickly. As though her body was suddenly refusing to cooperate with her mind in hating every Breed she met.
She couldn't hate and want at the same time, could she?
"I don't like Breeds," she whispered.
She couldn't lie to him. She wanted to. She wanted to play the game, she wanted to tease and lure him until she escaped his clutches as easily as she had other Breeds.
He almost paused. A frown touched his brow, touched those incredible blue eyes.
"I'm a mon, lass, not just a Breed. It's a wee like sayin' ye dislike all Chineses, ye dislike all Italians or all people in general, wouldn't ye think?"
His voice was gentle, almost understanding.
His hand stroked up her back, his fingers pressed against her spine, and she found herself wishing she was stupid enough to sink into him.
"Perhaps I just dislike all Breeds," she stated. And she was lying, because she knew a part of her hated all Breeds.
"I'll tell ye what." That smile was back. "Try me on, lass, see if ye dislike all Breeds, or just dislike all Breeds but me."
Try him on.
The thought of it was enough to cause her juices to gather and saturate the folds of her sex.
"No." She stepped back, the temptation, the sudden aching need that wrapped around her, had the power to send her heart racing with what she knew had to be fear.
It was fear. It couldn't be anything else.
"Lass . . ."
"I have to go. Friends." She looked around as though she were actually with someone else. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
She left him on the dance floor, assuring herself it wasn't a mistake. That there was no way she could have felt the warmth, the security that she had imagined she felt in his arms.
Entering the crowd, she brushed against the bodies, fought to diffuse her scent and headed straight for the back door, and for safety.