Hell, he hadn’t expected to find his mate at all, actually.
Parking the Harley and engaging the anti-theft security, he stepped from the motorcycle, all too aware of the gazes locked on him.
Customers had spilled from the bar, some to socialize, a few to make their way to their vehicles, while two couples in the shadows had been making out with heated lust. Hell, if he had Liza stretched out in the back of a pickup, the last thing he’d have on his mind was some mangy Breed who had just pulled in.
Pushing back the long strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead, he made his way to the entrance and stepped inside. Narrowing his gaze, he searched the interior until he found her.
A growl rumbled in his throat at the sight of the four men she was sitting with.
Deputy Cullen Maverick, a former Special Forces demolitions expert; Steven Jacobs and his brother, a communications expert on the same team, Reever Jacobs. Next to them was a man even the Breeds hadn’t managed to pull information up on yet. The one they had all agreed had to be the Bengal Judd, Klah Hunter.
He’d shown up nine years before in Window Rock and survived doing odd jobs. He never stayed at one job long, and he had never made many friends outside the Jacobs brothers and the deputy.
Claire and Chelsea Martinez each sat on one side of Liza, and all seven of the group were leaning in close and talking low.
Stygian had noticed, though, that Klah Hunter’s gaze had locked on him the minute he stepped into the bar.
Moving across the room, Stygian watched as they all straightened and Liza’s head slowly turned toward him.
Long strands of what he knew had to be living silk, dark blond, highlighted and streaked, her hair flowed over her shoulder and fell across the thin navy blue silk material covering her breasts.
She’d come to the bar straight from the office. The slim white skirt and dark blue silk blouse looked as damned sexy now as it had when he’d watched her leave the house that morning.
As he neared their table, the four men watched him warily.
Stygian grabbed a chair, flipped it around and angled it in beside Liza.
Pure dislike entered several of the men’s gazes.
Straddling the chair, he leaned against the back and met each of their gazes firmly.
“What are you doing here?” Liza hissed as the silence around the table became distinctly uncomfortable.
“Even Breeds enjoy a cold beer every now and then.” He let a grin touch his lips as the perfect arch of her brows lowered in a fierce frown.
“I bet they do.” Chelsea’s grin was filled with teasing enjoyment as she sat back and glanced between him and Liza. “Acc
ording to Malachi, they enjoy messing with our heads even more.”
Stygian had to chuckle. Chelsea Martinez wasn’t one to keep her smart-ass thoughts to herself, or to sugarcoat much.
“That’s always an enjoyable exercise,” he agreed with a quick grin as he caught Liza’s frown turning to a glare in his periphery. “Though, to be honest, I much prefer a more straightforward approach.”
“Oh, really?” Liza muttered. “And how do you manage that? I thought Breeds were allergic to honesty.”
He could see how she might feel that way after her meeting with Jonas two days before.
“Not so much allergic as merely wary.” Leaning his arms against the top rail of the seatback, he turned his head to her, ensuring she glimpsed the arousal raging inside him.
Two days.
He’d managed to keep his distance for two miserably long days, and he’d had enough.
She was his.
His mate.
She would be his woman.