An Inconvenient Mate

Chapter One

So many dreams and so many years waiting in painful anticipation.

WINDOW ROCK, ARIZONA

She couldn’t keep her eyes off him.

Isabelle Martinez watched the male across the bar as he lifted the frosted bottle of beer and drank. He placed the mouth of the bottle at his parted lips, tilted his head back and seemed to relish the cold bite of the liquid.

The strong column of his throat worked lazily before he lowered the bottle, allowing his gaze to sweep the room. As though he hadn’t been watching every movement possible in the small bar before and while he’d taken that drink.

Shaggy blond hair fell to his broad shoulders while the formfitting black of the uniform he wore shifted over his muscles with each move.

Mission uniform, that was what they called it, she thought in fascination. The black material wasn’t skintight, it was simply formfitting, and it set him apart as exactly what he was—a lethal weapon. A creature no man nor beast should be stupid enough to confront.

“I double-dare you,” her sister whispered at her ear.

Chelsea simply had no idea what she was doing.

“Not going to work, Chel.” Liza, her best friend, laughed from across the table. “She doesn’t have the guts to go for it. I told you, Holden drained the courage right out of her.”

The mention of Holden Mayhew had a dark, sickening feeling slicing through her and sent an icy chill down her spine. His gaze slid past hers, then sliced back, his eyes locking with hers for a second that seemed to last a lifetime as he motioned the bartender almost absentmindedly.

Isabella licked her lips nervously, and his eyes were on the action like a cat on a mouse.

A coyote on a rabbit.

Predatory.

Narrowed and dark. Were his eyes black or a blue so dark that the distance made them appear black? From where she sat and the shadows cast from the distance between them they could have been any color from dark brown to blue. One thing was certain, they were intent and gleaming with interest as they met hers.

He held her gaze now, though, as he lifted the ice-filled glass the bartender set at his side and brought it to his lips.

His eyes, narrowed and focused, remained locked with hers, mesmerizing her, holding her as no other man ever had.

Oh sweet Lord.

She could feel her breathing escalate, lust clawing at her senses as his lips touched the rim of the glass and he sipped the liquid before returning the glass to the bar.

Whiskey?

Of course.

The bartender topped off the drink, no doubt hoping for one of the tips it was rumored Breeds were prone to give.

It was one of the finest brands, and her favorite.

“Couldn’t you just eat him up,” Chelsea murmured at her side. And she could. One slow, luscious lick at a time.

“Come on, Isa.” Liza breathed out in awe. “It’s not like you can get a disease from him. Or get pregnant. Remember, their wives have to actually take those pills to get pregnant.”

Isabelle didn’t bother glancing over at her friend.

The documentaries they had watched over the years on Breeds were very enlightening. That, combined with every article they could get their hands on as well as every gossip rag Chelsea dragged into the apartment. Those stories, along with her father and grandfather’s stories of missing members of the Nation over the decades, filled her head.

She had never been as fascinated by other Breeds as she was with this one, though. And he was so obviously one of the baddest of the bad.

A Coyote Breed. The news story released days ago about the restructuring of the Breed communities had shown the Coyote Breeds’ new uniforms and identification.

The white curved fang on the left shoulder of the lightweight mission jacket, the new designation patch of the Coyote Breeds, showed clearly through the dim light of the bar. He would be carrying a picture ID and, if he were with the Bureau of Breed Affairs, an official badge and ID.

But she would have known he was a Breed without the uniform or the identification. They were easily picked out in a crowd. They were the most perfectly engineered creatures on the face of the earth and reflected the most perfect genetics that scientists could envision putting together to create a rough male beauty that seemed almost painful to look at.

The perfect height, the perfect strength and health. Perfect teeth, savage features for the males, classic beauty for the females—just perfectly, exquisitely dangerous.

A hell of a combination for a woman who now feared strength and danger.

“She’s not talking to us,” Liza pointed out, the smile obvious in the tone of her voice.

“’Cause he’s watching her,” Chelsea gasped in sudden surprise. “Oh my God, watch him stare at her. He’s, like, fascinated with her, Liza. Do you think she’s finally found a man she won’t say ‘no’ to?”

Isabelle dropped her gaze and closed her eyes for a quick moment, hoping to still the racing of her heart and the sudden knowledge that her friends, and possibly others, were watching now. That silent, hungry exchange shouldn’t be shared. She didn’t want others to see it. She didn’t want it remarked upon, or gossiped about. It seemed too deep, too intimate to spoil it in such a way.

There were few places a Breed could go where he or she wasn’t watched. Watched, judged, criticized and often feared. Just as their lovers, wives or even their friends were hated, reviled and insulted. She didn’t care if she was judged, or how she was judged, but that look, it was too special to risk, even here in one of the few places Breeds had found any acceptance.

The people of the Navajo Nation accepted them, did what they could to protect them and stood behind them when political or social reform was needed to ensure their safety and their survival.

It was one of the few places they could also trace their roots. Too many of the missing sons and daughters of the Navajo Nation had been taken by the Genetics Council for Breed research, and many of those families were desperate to claim the last ties to what they had lost.

Drawn irresistibly back to him, Isabelle lifted her eyes once again to find the Breed’s gaze supposedly drawn to her left of her. As though he were watching the entrance.

He seemed bored. Waiting with impatient patience, she thought, almost smiling at the contradiction. She knew he was watching her; she could feel his touch like a ghostly caress against her face. A sensation of warmth and sensual hunger washed through her.

His fingers gripped the glass again as he brought the drink to his lips and sipped. And though his gaze was to her side, she knew he could see exactly where she was and every move she made. Just as he no doubt knew she couldn’t keep her eyes off him.

“You are such a wuss.” Chelsea leaned close and whispered in her ear, her voice amused and challenging.

“Meaning?” Isabelle lifted her own drink, the same expensive whiskey the Breed had ordered.

“Meaning, go talk to him, dimwit,” Chelsea hissed, suddenly somber. “Come on, Isa, this could be the answer to your prayers. Holden wouldn’t dare come around you if he knew a Breed was interested in you. Not now and not later.”

Holden. God, she didn’t want to think about Holden.

She had fought to put that night behind her, to eradicate the fear from her life and from her nightmares. It was impossible, though. That night had become so imprinted on her brain that she couldn’t seem to shake the memories.

And she sincerely doubted anything or anyone would change Holden’s mind short of a bullet. Perhaps even death itself. He wouldn’t allow anyone, man or Breed, to stand between him and anything or anyone he decided he wanted. And he had decided not only did he want Isabelle, but he would have her. Whether she wanted him or not.

A shudder raced up her spine at the thought.

At the same time, the Breed’s gaze was suddenly locked with hers once again, unblinking, his dark eyes glittering dangerously. He watched her intently, his nostrils flared, his whole demeanor appearing on guard, as though he perceived some threat.

Isabelle could feel her mouth drying, nervous excitement and a hint of fear lacing the arousal she couldn’t seem to help.

She wished she knew more about the Breeds. Knew more about their strengths, or even their weaknesses. Amazingly, facts were sketchy, though the rumors were incredibly numerous.

Could he really smell her arousal?

Could he smell fear?

Did she care?

She licked her lips again. She had always held back where men were concerned, always refused to make the first move. She was still a virgin, determined to wait for the one man who would make the waiting worth it. In this case, the Breed she couldn’t resist. She had a feeling this Breed wouldn’t make that first move, though. Not with her. There was something in the air between them that assured her he would never allow her to hide from the fact that he was what she wanted. She would be woman enough to give an invitation that neither he nor anyone watching could mistake. If she wanted him, she would have to be woman enough to prove it.

Was she woman enough?

A part of her was screaming, “Hell yes,” while another part was screaming, “No way in hell.”

While her head and her heart were arguing over whether or not she was brave enough, the woman took up the challenge and went for it. She stood from her chair.

“Umm, this isn’t good, Chelsea, maybe we should leave,” she heard Liza mutter, an edge of something that may have been fear sharpening her voice. She ignored the other girl’s comment and instead began moving across the room.

She felt drawn by him.

Mesmerized by that dark gaze and becoming a person she didn’t wholly recognize. The woman she had always fantasized about being.

Independent. Free. A woman facing the most dangerous adventure of her life. One that could leave her either eternally whole, or forever heartbroken.

She had always told her father she would know the second she met the man she wanted to give her heart to. That knowing him would never be the problem.

Holding him would be another story.

And Isabelle knew that several of her friends had thought they could hold on to one of the rapturously, sexually experienced males science had created, only to end up with a broken heart.

Having a future with a Breed wouldn’t be the easiest job a woman could take on. Or the easiest challenge. Falling in love with one could be termed the height of idiocy. In that second, Isabelle knew her heart was now on the line as well. If she hadn’t already lost it. Not that she had ever believed in love at first sight before. She wasn’t certain she believed in it now. But she knew a part of her would grieve for a lifetime when this Breed walked out of her life.

“Isabelle,” Chelsea hissed behind her. “Sweetie, I think we better go.”

Isabelle ignored her. Her sister didn’t seem panicked, just worried. Worried was okay.

She felt as though she were gliding across the bar, held by his gaze, so fascinated, so intent on the man watching her that she could barely breathe.

She was instinct. She was living every fantasy she had ever had in that moment. Stepping to him, her gaze still captured, her senses narrowed to this one moment, Isabelle reach for the broad, masculine fingers that held the glass.

She didn’t take the glass from him.

Using her fingers, she urged the glass to her lips and he complied easily. Tucking the edge of it at her lips, he lifted it slowly until the icy liquid was touching her tongue, burning across her senses as she took a slow, sensual drink of the fiery liquor.

As he pulled back, she licked her lips slowly, realizing he had placed the exact spot his own lips had touched to hers.

“You’re living dangerously,” he murmured as her heart raced out of control, barreled into her chest then broke off to rush through her senses and overwhelm them.

“Prove it.”

Oh hell. No. She hadn’t said that. She really hadn’t.

Hadn’t someone said something about never, ever daring a Breed, especially a Coyote?

His lips quirked, an edge of smile filling eyes such a dark, dark blue they were nearly black.

“I can prove it.” Pure confidence filled his voice.

This time, she lifted the glass from his hand, brought it to her lips and finished the drink before handing it back to him.

His fingers covered hers as he took it, a flame leaping in his gaze as pure, sexual awareness seemed to fill the night.

“Confident, aren’t you?” she whispered playfully as a tingle of excitement rushed through her system.

“Very,” he agreed. “And I would so enjoy playing with you.”

A game? She’d never played sensual, flirtatious games. She’d never dared a Breed, and she’d never, at any time, challenged man or Breed to seduce her.

“We’re playing, then?” she asked softly.

“You could say I’m hunting,” he murmured seductively. “The sweetest, softest little morsel I believe I’ve ever scented in my life. You could become an addiction.”

Her heart tripped, speeded up and began racing in excitement.

“Do I get a head start?”

Eek. Where had that come from?

His head tilted to the side, his eyes squinting just a bit at the corners, as though he wanted to smile. “Do you plan to use it?”

“Of course.” She was going to run clear to the other end of the state just to escape the memory of her daring.

What was that expression that came over his face? It almost softened. His eyes gleamed and seemed to fill with something she would have called fondness at any other time.

“Are you sure you want a head start?” His voice dropped, sexual, heated, it stroked over her senses with an intimacy she hadn’t expected.

“It would be wise. Just to make certain I know what I’m doing, mind you.” She had no idea what the hell she was doing, and that was a fact.

His hand rose, his fingertip tucking beneath the hair that had fallen over her shoulder to find her exposed collarbone as he leaned closer, his lips at her ear. “When I find you, I’m going to undress you, then spread you out and lick all the lush, sweet cream I can smell flowing from your pussy. When I’ve drowned my senses in the taste of you, I’m going to fuck you with my tongue, lick more of you, then listen to your screams as you come.”

She was going to melt right there in the floor. Isabelle swore her knees nearly gave out on her as sensual weakness flooded them. She had to tighten her thighs against the sudden nip of sensation in her clit. The swollen, sensitive bud throbbed with need, pulsing with a need so strong she wasn’t certain she could deny it.

“I’m going to bite your chest.” She sighed, then winced at the lack of explicit description.

But that was what she wanted.

She wanted to bite his chest.

His hand was suddenly clamped on her hip, long, strong fingers curving over the denim of her jeans as she felt his body tense, his breathing becoming deeper and harder.

“Are you sure you want that head start?” His lips lowered to nip her ear.

Then he licked the edge of her ear, exciting the sensitive nerve endings beneath the flesh.

A shudder raced through her, blistering hot, nearly catapulting her straight out of her senses and into an unprecedented orgasm.

Her thighs tightened as she fought to hold it back. Or give in to it? She wasn’t certain which.

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “Maybe you’re not good enough at this game to catch me if I take it?” Hell no, she didn’t want a head start, but this was fun. It was the most fun she had ever had, the kind of fun she had dreamed of having with a man.

And in a moment’s hindsight, she realized she wanted him to chase her. She wanted this game more than she could have ever imagined wanting anything like it.

He tensed again, a little growl rumbling between them, at once exciting her even as it sent a flash of trepidation racing up her spine.

She could see the hunger in his gaze, feel it radiating from his big body. The strength of it confused her, as did the answering force that surged through her own body.

“When I catch you, I will fuck you,” he promised her, his voice rumbling at her ear before he pulled back to stare into her eyes. “All night, all day. Possibly all week.” Pulling away from him was practically impossible, and forcing herself to walk away took all the willpower she could muster. Because she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay there with him, wanted to rub against him and feel the sensual heat and power that she sensed was so much a part of him. She forced herself to move though. Forced herself to draw her gaze away from him and turn back to the table she, Chelsea and Liza shared. They had moved though. They were waiting on her at the exit, which was even better. Leaving was the best option, it would give him a reason to try to find her. If she remained in the bar, it would be rather anti-climatic. And she certainly didn’t want that.