Stygian's Honor (36 page)

The two girls, she and Claire, were laid out on one side of the fire. On the other side—she could feel herself trembling as the memory rushed over her—were two other girls.

Claire turned to look at her—the Claire that wasn’t broken and bloody—
“I’ll never see him again,”
she whispered as a tear fell down her cheek. Linking her fingers with her, Liza tried to give her friend comfort where only confusion and fear existed.
“Perhaps it’s for the best,”
Liza whispered.
“Perhaps it’s the only thing that will keep us alive.”

The memories, hazy and fragile as they were, drifted away. But she wasn’t left with nothing to fill the place of where the memory had been. It remained there, a part of her now, pulled from the deepest reaches of her subconscious and now a part of her conscious memories.

She wasn’t Liza Johnson. Liza Johnson had died that night and Honor Roberts had taken her place.

She didn’t have the memories, yet. She had no idea how to help Jonas Wyatt, but what she did have was Orrin Martinez’s promise.

“One day, named for that which few men know—Honor—One day, you will realize, child, you have lived up to all the dreams your father had when he gave you a name of such distinction. Know now, your heart and your soul resonate with it, and into this new life you will take with you the knowledge that will ease the burden of loss for the parents who had such hope, and one day, you will fill the heart and the soul of one who never truly believed he had such.”

Stygian.

She filled his heart and soul, just as he filled hers. But
there were so many other dreams, and so many others who were a part of her. And admitting to who, to what she was—

What she was—

Oh God, oh God—

“Liza!” Stygian caught her before her knees could collapse, before the shock could steal not just her strength but also her control. “Liza, are you okay?”

“Get me out of here.” She was going to be sick. “Get me out of here, Stygian.”

And he did just that. No questions, no demands. Lifting her into his arms and carrying her from the remnants of the sweat lodge, he took her away from the past and back into the present.

Nothing could steal the memory of those dark, terrifying days just before the ritual that had taken from her and Fawn the nightmares of their lies and had instead given them the peace and sheltered existence that Liza Johnson and Claire Martinez had been so determined to forsake.

And now, nothing could steal from her the realization of why they had been forced to make such a horrifying decision.

She could never again hide from what she was.

CHAPTER 17

But, it wasn’t as easy as Stygian had hoped it would be, and Liza wasn’t cooperating when it came to explaining exactly what had happened in that damned desert.

She shut down on him.

It wasn’t the distance he had experienced from her before. That complete emotional and spiritual distance, which assured his animal instincts that she was nothing more than a perfect, breathing shell.

This was different, but no less disconcerting. It was as though a part of her was so focused on something else to the point that there was no room for anything or anyone else.

That focus had completely eradicated the mating heat, and it was infuriating him.

The animal that lived under his skin was enraged by it.

His cock was just tortured. He was so damned hard, so fucking hungry for the taste of her, the touch of her, that it was about to drive him insane.

Two days later, Stygian could feel his frustration level moving into overload and threatening his control to the point that it was becoming dangerous.

Where was the mating heat and how had she managed to dampen it when no other mate had managed to do so?

Heat, like in sex on a near-constant level?

Heat, like his mate dying for his touch twenty-four-seven.

Heat in the fact that they were supposed to fuck like minks and be unable to stay the hell away from each other?

Fucking.

Fighting.

Talking.

Bonding.

That was mating heat.

Where the hell was the mating every other Breed experiencing it got to have, yet it seemed was being denied him?

It wasn’t that
he
wasn’t experiencing it, because God knew he was.

His tongue was so damned swollen it felt like a fucking golf ball was wedged beneath his tongue on each side. The heavy throb of the fluid contained within it was almost painful, and each small droplet of the moisture that pushed free of it to infuse his system was torturous in its effect on his body.

His cock was so swollen and hard it was damned near unbearable. The heavy veins pulsed with blood and lust, tightening to the point that he knew there would be no ease without the touch of his mate. And that touch didn’t seem forthcoming. The lust that should have been burning to tortured hunger inside her wasn’t happening.

At least, it hadn’t been happening for the past two days or nights.

Confusion, fear and a latent pain filled his mate’s mind to the point that it seemed there was no room for lust. That inner focus, confusion and fear that swirled through her senses was so intense that he couldn’t break through it.

And she refused to discuss it.

She wouldn’t consider discussing her past, the doubts he had sensed inside her concerning who she was, or what she felt or remembered now.

And he blamed Jonas for that. Blamed him for it to the point that he could barely converse with the man civilly. If Jonas had kept his damned plan for betraying Liza to himself, then perhaps, Stygian thought, he would have had a chance to bind his mate to his heart and a chance to help her
through the emotionally complex situation she was now facing.

Stygian wanted nothing more than to touch his mate, to kiss her. To love her.

To ease the fear and uncertainty tearing her apart, which was keeping her out of his arms.

The bonding that came with the mating heat was something he had looked forward to in the years since he’d learned of the phenomenon. That chance to so be a part of a woman; her heart, her soul, her life; that he knew he was no longer a singular person, but rather one part of a whole. Fused so tightly to his mate that their souls were one entity.

Yet, that wasn’t there with himself and Liza.

As though the mating heat itself had suddenly stalled halfway through the process.

He could smell her need; it was there, buried beneath her confusion. He could smell her arousal, and just a hint of the mating heat, but it was the same as it had been when he’d felt her retreat so far inside herself that he wasn’t certain how to find her.

The spiritual distance was no longer there, as it had been before. Instead, it seemed all the emotions, the fear, the pain and confusion that she had kept at bay over the years were tearing through her instead. And he had no idea how to help her. No idea how to bring her back to him.

Nothing he’d tried had worked in the past two days.

She didn’t rise to any verbal sparring he attempted.

She evaded his touch and asked for time with such deepening pain that pulling back to give her that time was killing him.

She was holding herself in such lockdown that he knew that finding the key to release whatever she was fighting to hide within herself might be impossible.

And he knew, the animal instincts that governed him knew, if he didn’t do something soon, he might well lose her forever.

Those animal instincts were raging. As though the animal he could have been was pacing furiously inside him, the
tension from the situation building to the point that release, in some form, was becoming a necessity.

Pacing the sitting room restlessly, he turned to her at the sound of the bedroom door opening, his gaze narrowing on the dove gray cotton lounge pants and matching camisole.

The tank top smoothed over her pert breasts, hugging the lush curves just enough to cause his mouth to water. And fuck him, but her nipples were hard. Peaked and swollen beneath her bra, pointing against the lace beneath and refusing to hide from his gaze.

The need to lick those hard little points and burn the tender nerve endings with the hormone swelling his tongue was nearly irresistible.

A growl rumbled in his throat, drawing her surprised gaze.

His patience was nearing its end.

His mate. She was created to belong to him, and by damned, she would not hold herself and his rightful bonds to her heart for much longer.

Damn, it would be easy to pull the material from her body.

Not to mention sexy as hell.

He was only a breath from refusing to warn her of the kiss coming that would put her in the frame of mind for the wild, uncontrolled sex the animal inside him was demanding he initiate.

His kiss would ensure the heat then. It would do as it was meant to and make her as crazy for him as he was for her.

He took a step and stopped.

No. He wouldn’t do it. If there was to be any peace in his heart that she had come to him of her own free will, then he had to force himself to have the patience she had asked him for two days before.

Since he couldn’t fuck his mate, that left sparring with his partners. One or the other was going to have to happen.

Sparring it was.

“We’re going to the gym downstairs,” he told her as she moved for the coffeepot.

And God only knew he’d give anything to allow her that cup of coffee. Normally, caffeine was like a kick-in-the-ass shot of high energy to mating heat. But his patience was at an end. He didn’t think he’d survive waiting to see if it would actually work.

Because right now, she looked good enough to eat from head to toe.

Her hair was still damp from her shower, lying in long dark blond curls that fell nearly to her waist. One long curl waved over her breast and tempted him to move it aside. To brush it over her shoulder as he pushed aside the strap of the top and began tasting soft, satiny flesh.

The soft cotton pants she wore skimmed over her soft curves.

“You can go to the gym downstairs,” she stated with a shrug as she poured the coffee. “I have work to do.”

She turned and moved to the laptop as though to power it up and do just that. Just as she had done the past two evenings. She stared at the screen, her expression still, her emotions ragged as she pretended to work.

Setting the coffee cup on the table beside the couch, she moved to open the screen on the device.

“Then bring the laptop with you,” he growled. “I fucking don’t care. I’m going to the gym, and whether you like it or not, you’re going with me.”

Nothing flashed in her normally expressive gray eyes. Not anger, fear or uncertainty. She stared back at him with such a blank look that his teeth clenched.

“Pack it up and get moving, Liza. Now.”

She must have seen something in his gaze that warned her against crossing that line.

Glancing at the laptop, she sighed wearily before closing the top and securing it. “I’d like to get back in time to actually sleep tonight,” she informed him.

“Why?” He had to force himself to throttle the anger building inside him. “It’s Friday night, not Sunday, and it’s not as though you have a job to return to.”

“No, I don’t, but I do have other things I can be doing
besides sitting on my ass and filing my nails.” Her voice never raised, never changed inflection. “There is more to my life than a job, Stygian, or what’s happened since you came into it.”

“Such as?” Watching as she moved toward him, it was all he could do to keep from pushing her to the floor and mounting her.

His dick throbbed with a hunger that was becoming painful, imperative as the swollen glands beneath his tongue pulsed in heated demand.

“Such as the Navajo Scholars Fund I chair, the museum fund-raisers I help with, and the scheduling I do for the chiefs of the Six to visit the Nation’s schools. Did you even care to check into anything I do besides what may or may not aid the Breeds in their little agenda here?” she questioned without inflection.

“I don’t know, Liza, I rather liked the university’s cheerleading squad and the fund-raising projects you were doing there,” he drawled. “Don’t you have a meeting coming up soon?”