"I guess I've lost my dance now." Cassie chose that moment to step forward.
Storme felt like a dowdy peon in the presence of a princess. The other girl's waist-length black curls and vivid blue eyes were amazing enough, but she managed to make even jeans and boots paired with a sleeveless camisole look like royal threads.
There was laughter in her gaze though, a smile on her lips, and Storme could see that the certain affection she felt for Styx went no further than a familial bond. There was no jealousy in Cassie's eyes, and no anger in her tone despite the fact that she propped her hands on her hips and gave Styx a mock glare.
"You have a lot of dance partners here, Cassie," Styx assured her with an easy laugh as his hand settled at Storme's hip once again. "If nothing else, you can torture Navarro."
Storme saw the look that crossed Cassie's face and filled her gaze. A mysterious, knowing look filled with concern.
"Navarro isn't available anymore," she said regretfully.
The tightness in Storme's chest increased. It wasn't what she said, or even the way she said it. It was that look in her eyes, the concern and the regret.
Something that even Styx and the others seemed to sense.
"What's happening, Cass?" It was her father that asked the question.
Cassie turned back to her father, breathed out roughly and shook her head. "I don't know, Dad. All I know is something is going to happen, and we all need to be ready for it."
"How long have you felt it?" Wolfe questioned her.
"The moment Navarro was introduced to my friend Micca this evening."
"The rumors are true," Storme injected softly. "You're psychic."
"Actually, no, I'm not." Cassie grimaced. "It's more complicated and not nearly so sane as being psychic." Her head tilted then, a light frown edging her forehead as she blinked slowly.
Her face seemed to pale before she shook that off and inhaled slowly, evenly.
As her lips parted to speak, another voice, a voice from the past, from a nightmare, spoke behind them.
"Dash, Elizabeth, congratulations."
Storme turned slowly.
She didn't know what Styx sensed, didn't understand the sudden, warning growl that came from his chest or the way his hand settled on the weapon he wore at his thigh, the one she hadn't noticed him strapping on before they left.
But she knew the voice, and she knew the Breed.
Almost in slow motion she turned and faced the nightmare she had been running from for so long. A nightmare she had always known, she realized, that she would come face-to-face with sooner or later.
The Breed wasn't expecting her any more than she was expecting him. She watched the shock that flickered in his cold brown eyes. Those eyes were carefully blank, as though he knew to hide the malicious, bloodthirsty nature that had once glowed almost red in them.
Curved canines that looked a bit dark. They weren't nice and pristine white as most Breeds' were. Storme imagined that the taste he had for blood had stained them, just as it had stained his soul.
As she stared back at him in shock and horror, his lips curled back, flashing the canines predominantly in a vicious snarl.
Storme shook her head, trying to deny that she was seeing who she was seeing, what she was seeing. He couldn't be here. Styx would have never allowed her brother and father's murderer to be here.
"Storme?" Styx stepped into a defensive stance next to her, pulling her partially behind him as she and the Coyote locked gazes.
"There's nothing you can do," the Coyote said with a smirk. "There's nothing they can do." He nodded to the Breeds gathered around her. "Breed Law protects me as well.
Had I known you were Styx's captive, I would have ensured my absence." As though it mattered. As though he felt some remorse. There was no remorse, and she knew it, she could see it in his eyes.
She was shaking. Storme could feel her body shaking, shuddering as agony began to tear through her.
"Storme." Styx's voice was hard, demanding.