Navarro's Promise (5 page)

Cougar would be back soon with the equipment to ensure there were no electronic or video bugs, while Navarro knew Jonas was currently working on a plan to get Mica out of the city as secretly as possible.

The team they had bypassed earlier wasn’t the only one sent for her, scouring the city to locate her even now.

Hell no.

At last count, there were twelve teams searching high and low for Mica. Twenty-four men determined to take her. There were surface-to-air, handheld missiles in the city, and plans to waylay anyone who tried to drive her out or any heli-jet that dared to fly her out. If they could catch sight of it.

Find a hole and stay put, Jonas had warned them, until he found a way to get her back to Sanctuary or to Haven. Keep her under wraps. Keep her safe.
And do it all while trying like hell to stay out of her pants
had been Navarro’s warning to himself.

Unfortunately, the last part was the very order he was truly afraid would never be obeyed.

Getting in Mica’s pants was one of the first things on his list of things to do while Jonas and Stygian searched for an escape route out of the city. He didn’t have to change to fuck her.

He almost winced. No, he could never fuck her. A woman like Mica, a man, no matter his species, could only make love to such a woman, whether he allowed himself to love her or not.

And this would be his only chance to have her; it might well be his last chance to know exactly what he was leaving behind. It was time for him to go before nature caught up with him and gave him a mate. It was time to return to the life of lies and illusion he’d been a part of before taking the mission to search for Jonas’s scientist.

Besides, Mica was a weakness that could get them both killed.

CHAPTER 2

Standing beneath the steaming hot spray of the penthouse shower and allowing it to wash away the bone-deep chill that had seeped inside her, Mica finally felt she might live rather than die from the cold.

She hated the cold. She hated winter. She hated having to feel the chill of it or to look out the window and see the snow swirling. That had made the night worse than it would have been otherwise, that bone-deep cold. She’d been terrified she would never be warm again.

With the warmth came a determination to ignore the danger she knew was also swirling outside the doors of the hotel. She closed her eyes and forced herself to slip into the darkness there, to create that wall between her and the reality of the memories that threatened to take hold.

That whole head-in-the-sand attitude never failed to make Cassie crazy when they were together.

Mica loved ignoring the fact that she didn’t have a real life. That she was always surrounded by danger, Breeds, and the realization that at any time the Breeds’ enemies could strike out at her instead of her friends.

They finally had.

A hard, rough breath shuddered through her as she pushed back the knowledge again. It was harder this time. Of course, she hadn’t faced another night quite like tonight either.

Yep, she was an ostrich. Feathers, plume, head in the sand, whole nine yards.

Well, except those long bird legs. She still had the short legs. But the rest of it. Yes indeed, just list her name with the feathered genera of the world, because she wasn’t about to open her eyes and accept reality anytime soon.

She’d just put that little thing on her to-do list for next year, maybe.

“Are you okay in there?”

Mica jumped, startled to hear his voice so close, just outside the frosted glass of the shower door.

“I’m fine. Go away.”

She needed just a few more minutes to assure herself, to convince herself she wasn’t here standing beneath the pouring hot water because she had just spent hours in the driving rain running from Breed enemies. After all, she wasn’t a Breed, right? She was as human as they came, and no one could say any different.

“Go away? Mica, my feelings might be hurt. Are you certain you don’t need your back washed? Or perhaps your front?” He was clearly amused, the exotic edge of his voice stroking over her senses.

God, she loved that little hint of an accent. Just a hint, one was never certain it was really there, but the sound of it just stroked across her senses like an erotic caress.

“You’d have to have feelings first, Navarro. And I’m able to wash my back, and my front, perfectly on my own.” A feminine sniff of disdain met his suggestion, though she could feel her heart trying to race in excitement.

This wasn’t the first time Navarro had made such a comment, but they never failed to steal her breath.

She couldn’t help it. Unlike many other Breeds, there was simply something about Navarro that she couldn’t force herself to ignore.

Or perhaps she didn’t want to ignore it. The excitement, the sense of wonder, the surge of aroused adrenaline were a pleasure in and of themselves that she seemed to be becoming addicted to.

“You’re wounding my heart, Amaya,” he drawled. “I believe I may have to come up with some punishment in retaliation.”

One of these days, she was going to ask him exactly what that word meant. She knew it was Japanese, but she hadn’t yet forced herself to learn the meaning of it. If she learned it simply meant friendship, or some kind of child, her ego might be irreparably stripped.

“As long as that punishment doesn’t include invading my shower or anything cold,” she assured him, though she could feel every cell in her body threatening to send out a scent that would attest otherwise.

“Mica, I want to see your ribs.” His voice hardened imperceptibly.

Mica’s nipples hardened.

Just that fast, the thought of him touching her ribs, so close to the swollen mounds of her breasts, and she was becoming flushed with an arousal she couldn’t hide.

Would the water cover the scent?

Heat flushed her face at the thought of being unable to hide the telling scent of an arousal so strong that even now she could feel the betraying slickness gathering between her thighs.

“I’m just sore,” she tried to assure him as her fingers glanced over the area. “Nothing’s broken, just bruised.”

She stroked the curve of her own breast, her fingertips eliciting a wave of pleasure that swept through her entire system.

She would love to have him touch her. To feel his fingers stroking over her flesh gently, his lips touching her, not just kissing her, but stroking against her flesh, covering her nipple, suckling it, licking it.

“I would rather see that for myself. We’re going to be leaving soon. I need to know the true condition of any injuries in order to know how to proceed should we run into trouble.”

Of course he did. Breeds believed in always being completely prepared, often to a level that bordered on the ridiculous. Even her father, an army Special Forces soldier, wasn’t as detailed as Breeds were without even thinking about it.

“It’s fine, Navarro.” She closed her eyes, fighting the need to have him touch her.

“I would like to see for myself that it’s simply a bruise,” he stated firmly. “When you’ve finished, I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom.”

Opening her eyes and turning her head, she watched as he left the bathroom, the shadow of his tall, leanly muscled physique easing from the doorway.

Pushing her face beneath the pouring water, she debated running cold water rather than hot, but the memory of that icy chill was still too sharp.

As aroused as he had her, still the thought of anything but warmth washing over her sent a wave of fear crashing through her mind. She was afraid the thought of icy rain would only be a fearful thing in the future now, rather than simply something to avoid as it had been before tonight.

Pushing the thought and the memory of that chill to the back of her mind, Mica finished her shower before shutting off the water and wrapping a towel around her sodden hair. Drying quickly, she pulled on a thick, ultra-soft white hotel robe and belted it loosely.

She hoped he had thought to get her more clothes; otherwise, her stay here was going to be pretty awkward, she thought, as she quickly towel dried her hair.

Running her fingers through the heavy, straight strands, she quickly used the blow-dryer to knock most of the dampness out of them. She didn’t want to feel anything cold against her flesh for a long time.

When she moved from the large, luxurious bathroom to the bedroom, she came to a slow, hesitant stop as she saw Navarro sitting on the bed, his gaze directed to the e-pad he was scrolling through as he waited on her.

His head lifted.

Eyes as dark as the black of night stared back at her silently, unblinkingly.

Mica cleared her throat as a wave of nervousness washed through her.

He’d changed clothes. Sodden black mission pants and the lightweight black shirt were gone. In their place perfectly creased, obviously pricey black jeans and a white long-sleeved cotton shirt tucked snugly into the band. A black leather belt cinched his hard waist, and on his feet he wore obviously expensive leather boots.

Never let it be said that Navarro Blaine didn’t know how to dress, and how to dress well.

His hair was pushed back from his face, falling to his nape, and the thick, heavy strands invited her fingers to explore and play.

It was as straight as her own, though thicker, heavier, the midnight color such a rich, glistening sheen it looked blue in a certain light.

“Are you finally warm?” He laid the pad aside as he rose to his feet, the primal, animal male grace he displayed nearly stealing her breath.

“Warm enough.” Tucking her hair nervously behind her ear, she tried to fight back an attraction she had no hope of defeating.

“You’ll need to take off the robe.” His gaze flickered with something, some almost hidden heat that had her heart suddenly racing between her breasts.

“I don’t think so.” There wasn’t a chance in hell she was pushing her libido that far.

Rather than removing the robe, she untied it and carefully eased it from one arm while holding the abundant remaining material over her breasts. Revealing her side, she knew why his eyes suddenly narrowed and his lips thinned.

The dark bruise, a vulgar, spreading stain from the impact of the Coyote Breed’s boot against her side, from the area beneath her arm to just below her breast. It encompassed her rib area and had already turned a vivid, ugly black, an assurance the bruising went clear to the bone.

“I can see the bruise much better if you remove the robe,” he assured her, playfulness entering his voice.

“That and much more.” She stared straight ahead and simply concentrated on trying to control the betraying dampness of her juices gathering between her thighs.

His fingertips brushed against her flesh.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re lying to me?” he murmured as he glanced back at her teasingly.

Mica rolled her eyes mockingly. “Let me guess, you smell it?”

He actually chuckled, a dark, deep sound that played across her senses with a stroke of pleasure. “You’re actually rather good at hiding it, but my sense of smell isn’t the same as other Breeds. I imagine it has something to do with the recessed genetics.”

Her brows arched. “You can’t smell things as the other Breeds do?”

“Your fear was rather sharp tonight, as was your pain . . .”

“No kidding. I should have guessed. Cassie’s dad’s sense of smell wasn’t very good either because of his recessed genetics.” There was a sense of relief so sudden she barely held it in.

She hadn’t expected recessed senses as well, though she knew she should have. Cassie’s father, Dash, had had recessed senses until he mated Cassie’s mother, Elizabeth. His sense of sight, hearing and smell had been better than normal, but they hadn’t been at Breed level.

With that knowledge came another, relieving thought.

Perhaps Navarro couldn’t sense her arousal.

He couldn’t smell the liquid heat gathering between her thighs.

This was good. This was actually much better, she thought. If he couldn’t smell it or sense it, then perhaps she could pretend it didn’t exist.

Yep, that was her, the ostrich.

“I don’t think it makes you any less effective though.” A sense of hope cheered her a little. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about every emotion, every want or need revealed to him as easily as Cassie seemed to pick it up. “And really, you don’t have to be able to smell a person’s emotions. I think it’s highly unfair that Breeds have those senses anyway.”

Perhaps, just maybe, because of that, she could defend herself against this attraction, this fascination rapidly spiraling out of control.

Navarro knew he should feel at least a shade of remorse for not completing his sentence and assuring her his sense of smell was actually more advanced, despite his recessed genetics, than most Breeds. After all, she couldn’t smell his lie as he could hers. She couldn’t smell his hunger for her, as he could smell hers. And she hungered. She was lightning hot, flaring with peaks of arousal and making him insane each time she flared.

His genetics were recessed; therefore, most humans and Breeds alike assumed his senses weren’t as heightened as other Breeds’. The opposite was actually the truth. His senses were stronger, sharper, more advanced than 90 percent of the Breeds created.

Recessed genetics, in his case, did not mean recessed senses.

They simply meant his animal genetics hadn’t yet showed up on a scan. They hadn’t found a variable yet that would pinpoint whatever slight anomaly had to be in the genetic string to identify the recessed DNA.

For now he was safe.

Other Breeds could smell nothing but his human genetics, and humans could find nothing but normal Asian-American DNA. He couldn’t hide his scent, but he could alter his scent easily. So far, he hadn’t mated a female, but he’d learned young exactly how to please them.

Still, the race to run this woman to ground and have her admit that desire seemed to be the only battle he couldn’t find a positive weapon for.

“Does it make you uncomfortable, being different among the Breeds?” she asked as her head tilted inquisitively to the side, the scent of her arousal suddenly peaking with a strength that had him clenching his back teeth. Damn her, had any woman ever grown so hot, so quickly for him?

Watching her with a bit of a crooked smile, Navarro debated for a second telling her the truth. Damn, the decision was one he simply couldn’t make.

“Doesn’t it make all of us uncomfortable sometimes? When we’re different from those around us?” he asked her. And that wasn’t a lie. He was different, far different than other Breeds, or humans.

“You’re not answering my questions, you’re just asking more,” she pointed out. “Why do you do that?”

So he wouldn’t have to lie to her.

Brushing his fingers over the bruise, his touch light as air, he probed the flesh, feeling the delicacy of it, the internal temperature of the bruise and the mottled feel of the blood beneath the skin.