Claire bit her lip indecisively before drawing in a deep breath. “I thought I had to have misunderstood something, and I knew Malachi would never hurt her.” She lifted her hands in indecision. “But tonight, I knew I had to tell both of you when I saw how Liza was reacting to Mr. Black.” Her eyes widened a bit, the hazel depths filled with concern. “I’m still not certain I didn’t misunderstand something. I mean really, we were all in shock. And terrified. I could have misunderstood the entire conversation.”
Liza blew out a hard breath. “Wow,” she said in disbelief. “Those tabloid stories are true then.”
It was inconceivable. Yet no matter how much she wished she could brush away Claire’s information, she knew she couldn’t.
Isabelle’s reaction to Malachi Morgan had been much too intense to be considered normal, and Liza as well as Chelsea and Claire had known it.
But that was Claire. She kept to herself, and she kept others’ secrets very well. Her friends had always worried about that deep well of reserve she possessed and the quiet nature that often allowed others to run roughshod over her unless her friends put a stop to it.
“Damn, if those tabloid stories are true,” Chelsea hissed, “then it makes them like, fuck machines hyped on natural steroids.” She swallowed tightly, her expression almost glazed with wonder. “It would be like—”
“That’s enough, Chel.” Liza held her hand up quickly. “Enough with the adjectives, okay?”
The “fuck machine on steroids” was enough to make Liza’s body hum with amplified interest. She didn’t even need to hear anything more to assure her that allowing Stygian Black in her bed would definitely ruin her for any other man or Breed. For life. Period.
“But it’s only when they do that mating thing,” Claire reminded them. “That’s what the tabloids said, and from what those two doctors were saying, that’s true. Wolves only have one mate for life in the wild, right? It makes sense that Wolf Breeds would follow that course. Lions as well—”
“But Tigers, Coyotes and all those other wonderful species do not,” Chelsea assured her.
“Then it’s a quirk of nature or their creation.” Chelsea shrugged. “Whatever it is, it’s something they’re obviously desperate to hide, otherwise the Breed scientists would have leaked it to the world themselves long ago.”
“Maybe.” Liza sighed.
She was going to overheat for sure. Liza could feel her body burning like an inferno at the thought of having a man, hell, a Breed, who belonged to her and her alone.
“Talk about having a license to be an asshole.” Chelsea gave a low whistle as she stared back at Liza. “Hell, normal men are a pain in the ass. But one who knew you couldn’t ever allow another man to touch you? A relationship where there’s no threat of divorce? An addiction to their kiss that you can’t get rid of, no matter how pissed you are, how bloated you feel or how bad your head really doesn’t hurt?”
Whoa, talk about a splash of cold water.
“I don’t think so,” Liza informed them both. “Not in this lifetime.”
“How much is true and how much is made up?” Chelsea questioned in disbelief. “How much can you believe? Surely it can’t be so bad or Isabelle would have shot Malachi by now. She’s no wimpy little miss when it comes to defending herself.”
“Fifty-fifty maybe?” Claire suggested.
“No way,” Chelsea retorted, shaking her head as she unclipped the rich black strands of her hair from tortoiseshell clips. “I’m going to say at least seventy-five percent has to be pure fiction. That leaves twenty-five percent in their favor. The fuck machines with a kiss that’s like an aphrodisiac. I draw a line at addictive. Sorry, girls.” She shrugged carelessly. “It’s not going to happen for any man in this lifetime. It would be far too easy for them to simply rule us. God wouldn’t allow it. He does have a sense of humor, you know.”
Liza nodded slowly.
Chelsea had to be right.
There were always checks and balances.
No way would nature give Breed males such a one-up on either the Breed or human females they encountered.
“So do we mention any of this to Ashley and the others when they get here tomorrow?” Chelsea asked.
“God, no! They’re Breeds!” Liza stared back at her friend, wondering if she had somehow lost her mind. “I love them like crazy, Chelsea, but we don’t mention this to anyone. We keep it to ourselves.”
The four Breed females Ashley Truing, Emma Truing, Chimera Broussard and Shiloh Gage had been training the girls to be a part of the Navajo-based Breed Underground Network for the past six months.
The underground network was a group of Navajos that aided the Breeds who required complete anonymity and a secure refuge from the Genetics Council. The network aided them in hiding once they managed to escape their labs, sheltered them, provided medical aid and ensured they found a place to bury who and what they had once been.
“We could find a way to question them, perhaps,” Claire suggested. “See if they’ll just give us a little hint. All based on the tabloid stories, of course.”
Liza shook her head fiercely. “We can’t chance they would lie to us, or worse yet, have more loyalty to their own than they do to friendship. We keep this to ourselves and see what happens.”
“Does that mean you get to be the first guinea pig?” Chelsea wagged her brows suggestively. “You’ll give deets, right? Surely you wouldn’t torture us like Isabelle does? She doesn’t tell us anything.”