Her breasts ached, too.
Had he caused that?
Men didn’t affect her this way.
Why him?
She wouldn’t deny the feelings he stirred up in her body, but she would have killed a less resilient person in the tunnel today when she’d shoved Storm across the tracks.
When he’d plastered his body against her in the subway she’d tried not to react. But she’d been attacked in the dark. Shoved up against a wall and . . .
Her arms rippled, ready to change.
She closed her mind against the memories until her breathing settled down. She focused on Storm’s kiss and felt herself melt.
But Storm wasn’t a man who would be satisfied for long with kissing. She might not have had relationships—had never dated—but she knew where Storm thought things between them were heading and doubted she’d ever be able to open up that part of herself to anyone.
She should tell him the truth, that she couldn’t give him what he wanted, what any man wanted from a woman. She’d allowed him to touch her more than anyone else ever had, but some lines couldn’t be crossed again in her mind.
And as an Alterant, she was forbidden from anything even remotely close to mating.
Even if she was willing to take the risk and could handle the idea of intimacy, sex could trigger a violent reaction, far worse than today’s. She might shift and kill someone who tried to have sex with her.
Storm would have to understand that moving beyond a kiss required a level of trust she was incapable of giving. In fact, just thinking about it required too much effort until she got some rest.
Darkness filled in around her thoughts.
She’d almost fallen asleep when a voice whispered, “Trust is nourishment for a starving heart.”
Evalle sat straight up and opened her empathic senses.
There was no one in the room except her and Feenix.
She might have been dreaming, but it was the same female voice she’d heard while hunting the Kujoo. Except the last time she’d heard the voice inside her head, not spoken out loud.
NINETEEN
Isak Nyght sat on the edge of his desk. He watched through the glass observation window between his office and the attached hangar, where six men loaded ammo into specialized weapons he’d designed.
He flipped the cell phone in the air, then caught it again and again, amused over the voice mail he’d just cleared.
Tzader Burke wanted something from him?
Isak had checked up on Burke, wanting to know who this guy was before he decided if he’d return the call or not.
His national defense contacts in Washington, D.C., had explained a few minutes ago that Tzader was connected high up the political food chain in D.C. So was Isak, because they knew he hunted nonhumans. Correction. He killed nonhumans, like those inhuman Alterants that turned from human to beast.
This yellow smog crawling just above the ground in cities was triggering the change.
Which meant he had bigger targets than Tzader Burke.
His contact had actually warned him to be careful, adding that word had reached D.C. that Tzader was not happy about the Nyght Raiders being in the Southeast, specifically Atlanta.
Tough.
Isak answered to no one and had his own ties higher up, but he only called in those favors for something significant.
Nonhumans were significant.
