Tied With a Bow

file charges against him. There was no way he could get out of it. Chelsea and Liza both had been there, and they were all employees and kin to members of the Navajo Nation Council.
    If she had filed charges, or had the courage to do it now, then she wouldn’t be reliving the nightmare on the night she should be enjoying the daring, sensual game a Coyote Breed had begun with her.
    How long had she waited to meet that one man who would make her willing to give herself at a moment’s notice? The fact that he was a Breed hadn’t really surprised her. She’d known for years that the men she had met before him didn’t have whatever it was the sensual side of her was searching for. The feminine, female part that demanded so much more from a lover than those who had presented themselves so far.
    It wasn’t that she hadn’t waited, watched, searched for the man who would awaken her sensuality.
    She had traveled the world with her father on his quests for information about his missing sister. She had met heads of state, politicians, ambassadors, geeks and physical laborers in her short stint as her uncle’s personal assistant just after he’d been voted in as chief of the Navajo Nation.
    She had dated, she had kissed, she had let herself be wined and dined, and that elusive hunger she had known had to be waiting inside her had never shown itself. That restless, waiting impatience had always followed her, had always been a part of her, until tonight. Tonight, when her gaze met a Breed and she had dared to tease him. That restlessness had eased. For a few moments, it hadn’t even existed.
    And now, she was terrified of the consequences of reaching out for what she wanted.
    Lifting her hand, she rubbed at the small spot on her ear that the Breed had nipped. She could feel the imprint of his teeth, a heated reminder of that gentle bite, a brand against her flesh.
    She didn’t even know his name.
    She hadn’t even paid attention to the gold ID designation tag on the left of his very broad chest.
    Breeds didn’t display their names as other military, law enforcement or agency operatives did. They carried a number, hiding their identity to the casual observer.
    Not that the number would have done her much good if she was searching for his identity. The only way to learn who owned the designation number was to contact the Bureau of Breed Affairs and jump through hoops, kiss ass and hope Jonas Wyatt was in a good mood the day the request hit his desk, though she had heard Wyatt was never in that good a mood. There were rumors he would even deny senators, Breed contributors and law enforcement officials that information.
    “Isabelle, you’re not listening,” Chelsea chided her as she kept her back to them. “Come on, that Breed looked capable of protecting an army. You wouldn’t even have to sleep with him to convince him to do something about Holden.”
    The fact that her sister made such a suggestion was a testament of how worried she was over the situation Isabelle was in.
    “I don’t want a protector,” she said softly, turning to the only two women who knew the fears that plagued her. “I don’t want a man in my bed because of Holden, Chelsea. I want a lover. I want more than a shield. I don’t want to be afraid of what’s going to happen when Holden finds out, or if he sees us together. I want to enjoy it while I have it so I can hold on to the memories when it’s over. This will be my first time, Chelsea, I wanted it to be special. Is that so much to ask?”
    Because few things lasted forever. Her mother had taught her that when she had died in an accident the morning Isabelle turned seven, just hours before the birthday party she and Isabelle had planned so meticiously.
    “I think Holden knows better than to confront a Breed. But that doesn’t mean it would make the Breed any less than your lover, sweetie,” Liza assured her. “Hell, Isabelle, it’s just that I can’t think of anyone who would confront a Breed over one of their lovers. I hear they’re rabid about them. And they’re even worse where their wives, or mates as they call them, are concerned.”
    More than one non-Breed male had learned the idiocy of challenging a Breed over the woman he was with, whether he was sleeping with her or not. Breed males were said to be so intensly protective of women and children that even abusive husbands and fathers had felt the brunt of their displeasure. When it came to lovers and wives, though, they