Dominance was a Breed trait, but Wolf Breeds in particular had it in double measure. Even Coyotes didn't have the same intense, burning need for dominance over their mates that Wolf Breeds did. A dominance that came out sexually, and often, when challenged, coalesced in a powerful need to force submission from their mates. When a mate endangered her own life, or the mating, then the animal genetics kicked in with a punch and turned into a burning hunger for an act that would imprint the Wolf's dominance on his mate's subconscious.
It wasn't something Styx liked to admit to, that the Wolf he was bred from could become so overwhelming. Hell, he'd never had it happen before, and he wasn't certain how to handle it now.
All he knew was that something had to be done.
"Let me get more samples from you tonight, then I'll see what they show in the morning as well." Nikki turned and rushed to a storage room at the side of the kitchen. She returned moments later with the heavy black bag she carried with her whenever leaving her cabin.
Setting the bag on the table, she opened it and lifted two sealed sample cups from inside. "Urine and semen." She pressed the sterilized cups into his hand. "We'll get blood and saliva when you get back."
She turned from him as he stared at the plastic cups with a sense of resignation. He could feel his bachelorhood draining from his body, but rather than the weakness he had thought he would feel, he could only feel a sense of impending danger.
If he didn't resolve this, if he didn't claim his mate, then he could lose her forever. And losing his smart-assed, vulnerable, outrageous Storme wasn't something he could imagine surviving.
CHAPTER 8
Storme watched Dr. Armani silently as she extracted the fourth vial of blood from the pressure syringe before storing the supplies she had used over the past several hours back into the heavy, old-fashioned black bag she carried.
She'd arrived as usual, but this morning, she seemed more intent than normal.
Saliva and vaginal swabs had been taken, a scrape of skin from Storme's inner thigh as well as her arm; the bite Styx had given her the night before was swabbed and four vials of blood were taken.
"Which Breed is contagious?" she asked as the doctor snapped the lid shut on the bag.
She couldn't imagine any other reason for the samples being taken every day. She'd lived long enough in the labs to know certain procedures. It may have been ten years since she was there, but she clearly remembered her father swabbing her inner cheek and taking blood when any of the Breeds in the labs had appeared to be ill.
The vaginal swab and skin scraping were something new, but she made allowances for more thorough testing and better procedures having been developed in the past ten years.
"No one is contagious, Ms. Montague." The doctor gave her a cool smile as she stripped off the thin medical gloves she wore and pushed them into the pockets of her lab coat.
"Then why the examination and the samples every friggin' day?" She waved her hand toward the bag where the doctor had stored the various vials. "When we were in the labs, they only did this when they thought a Breed might be contagious."
"There are other reasons." The doctor brushed back the long mass of braids that swung over her shoulders, before sitting down in the plush chair next to the bed.
"And what would those other reasons be?" Storme crossed her arms over her breasts and stared back at the doctor inquisitively.
She didn't fully trust Nikki Armani. The other woman was a Breed doctor and, according to many reports from the pure blood societies, had worked against the Council even when she was a part of it.
"Have you been feeling uncomfortable? Had any unusual reactions to anything?" the doctor asked instead.
"Like what?" Storme frowned in surprise. "What are you looking for, Dr. Armani?"
"Some answers." The doctor remained cool and unflappable. "Everyone that comes into Haven is required to undergo testing, for your protection as well as ours."
"You talk as though you're a Breed," Storme commented. "You're not. You're human."
Nikki tilted her head and stared back at her curiously. "There's no distinction in my eyes, Storme, and according to the Breed mandates, there is no distinction in the eyes of the world courts."
That didn't mean there wasn't a distinction. It simply meant that the human parts of the Breeds were strong enough to encourage sympathy in the politically correct and politically distrustful world of the moment.
Not that what had been done to the Breeds could ever be considered right or just, but that didn't make them human either.
"But you know that it isn't true," she said softly. "You worked in the labs, Dr. Armani, you know they're not human."
Armani's gaze became thoughtful for a second before a glitter of condemnation filled them. "Storme, I pity you, and I pity those like you who refuse to acknowledge the very unique strength of Breed humanity."
"I respect their strength, Dr. Armani," she said softly. "Just as I respect the strength and intelligence of their animal cousins. But as with the creatures whose genetics they carry, I know better than to bare my throat to them. I learned better the hard way."
By watching her brother die at the sharp, bloodthirsty edge of a Coyote Breed's teeth.
The doctor leaned forward slowly. "When Styx kisses you, is there a difference, Ms. Montague, between his kiss and the kiss of a man who is not a Breed? When that man makes love to you, when he touches you, are you with a man or with an animal? Tell me." She glanced at the mark on Storme's neck. "Do you bare your neck for him?"
"There's still a difference," she whispered. "It's just one you don't want to acknowledge."
The other woman's smile was filled with pity and with anger. "I remember when my grandfather would tell us stories of the racial conflicts in the past century. How we as biracial children were considered less than human because of the color of our skin, or the color of our parents' skin. Courts debated, brothers separated, and a war was fought to uphold the value of our humanity. Simply because these men and women were forced to carry the genetics of proud, highly intelligent hunters doesn't make them any less human for it. If you want my opinion, it makes them far superior to us in the very fact that unlike us, they know the value of life."
The doctor didn't storm from the room, she rose slowly, shook her head at Storme in disgust, picked up her bag and walked calmly away.
And still, she hadn't answered Storme's questions. Why were the samples needed, and what were they testing for? But what she had left Storme with was a mind filled with even more conflicts than before.
There was nothing different in the sex with Styx, other than the pleasure. He could touch her, and her heart rate tripled, kiss her and she lost her senses to anything but the pleasure of that kiss, and when he made love to her, he made love to her with all the hungry, intense pleasure that a woman could dream of. There were times he made her feel her own femininity with such keen strength that it nearly overwhelmed her.
He made her feel like a woman that held her lover's complete attention, his absorption. And that was something she had never known before.
When he held her, she didn't consider him an animal. In the cold light of day she wondered just what the hell she was letting herself get involved in though, because she could feel her emotions and her feelings changing. And that terrified her, because she knew that would also change the entire course she had set for her life.
"Hello, anyone here?" The greeting came through the bedroom, from a voice she knew could belong to only one person. "Styx, come on, honey, I have the chocolate and the wine for you to check out."