Even the position Isabelle had attained on the team she’d trained with since she was a teenager was no longer important.
For some reason, Isabelle now considered herself a danger to the team, and none of them could figure out why.
Unless the rumor that lovers who were “mated” to a Breed carried a scent other Breeds could detect. Especially Coyote Breeds who worked for the Genetics Council. Add that to the fact that the reported attacks against Breeds and their lovers in the past few years by suspected Genetics Council Breeds were all against Breeds in committed relationships with their lovers. So committed there was no time, no room and no interest in anything else.
“What are you getting at, Liza?” Leaning forward, his booted feet planted squarely on the bench as he planted his broad forearms on his knees, he watched her thoughtfully. “I swear, I can feel that suspicious little mind of yours beating around something here.”
“The rumors of ‘mating heat’?” she questioned. “If that’s why you’re sniffing around me, then I’d just like to say right now I’d prefer not to be so chained to a man that I can’t get five minutes out of his sight.”
A smile curved his lips, but the amusement had dissipated just marginally from his gaze for the slightest second. If she hadn’t been watching his expression closely, she would have missed it.
“Come on, Liza,” he chastised her gently. “If it existed, don’t you think someone would have come forward already?”
She shrugged at the question. “The National Rumor says there’s a kill order against anyone who verifies information concerning Breed mating heat.”
Stygian had to laugh at that. Not because it wasn’t true. Because she’d gotten straight to the point and didn’t hesitate to inform him she wasn’t interested.
He would have let it go if he didn’t know for a damned fact she was more than interested. She could lie with her lips, but her body hadn’t yet learned how to play along.
“That rag? Sweetheart, you should try reading the National Press. It’s more fact than fantasy.” He evaded the implied question carefully.
Not that she was willing to back down. He doubted she backed down from much at all.
“The National Press is owned by the Tyler family,” Liza snorted. “Their baby sister is married to Callan Lyons, leader of the Feline Prides. I wouldn’t exactly suspect the paper of being impartial, would you?”
She had him there. But for the moment, he stuck to his evasion rather than the truth and prayed she didn’t push him any closer to lying.
Lying to his mate just somehow seemed wrong.
“Yeah, it is,” he agreed with a nod. “That doesn’t mean John Tyler reports fiction. He’s a damned stickler for truth in the articles he publishes as well.”
“And he just recently married a Feline Breed.” She smiled smugly.
Well, hell, that information was so carefully buried that even the Alphas of the other Breed communities were unaware of it.
“I think we should discuss this later,” he suggested—later, after he showed her, rather than telling her, the full truth involving mating heat.
“Why later, Stygian? When? After you’ve kissed me and tied me so irrevocably to you that I have no other choice but to keep your secrets?”
Pretty much.
The mocking thought had a rush of guilt pricking at his senses.
“Come on, Liza.” Sighing, he scratched at his jaw and watched her thoughtfully. “Do you need an excuse for wanting me so desperately that you’ll believe any trash story you find to explain it?”
“Why not?” Her brow arched suggestively. “It beats believing I’m suddenly so tired of living that I’ve chosen suicide by Breed.”
“Suicide by Breed?” Incredulity filled his expression then. “How do you figure that one? Baby, we might kill ourselves fucking, but I’d never physically harm you.”
Her face flushed, but the sudden darkening of her gray eyes and the scent of her pussy heating further assured him it wasn’t from anger or embarrassment.
“Emotional suicide by Breed.” She shrugged, though the subtle scent of her wariness wrapped around him like an invisible cloud.
“Emotional suicide?” he questioned her. “Do you think you’re in danger of losing your heart to me, Liza?”
“Only if you’re in danger of being honest with me.” She snorted. “I detest liars.”
“Honesty goes both ways, baby,” he retorted. “If you want it, then you have to give it as well.”