Bengal's Quest

He’d known the battle being waged inside her spirit, one even she hadn’t sensed.

“Hold on for me . . .” His hand lifted to hold her palm to his face, then to his lips as he pressed a kiss to it. “As I’ve held on for you.”

“Hurry, G,” she’d ordered, her expression tightening stubbornly. “I’m tired of waiting for you. Do it, now.”

And he’d smiled. “You’ll be angry with me.”

“That never stopped you before. Wait much longer and I’ll give up on you. I’m giving up on you, G. I’m giving up . . .” As her eyes had closed once again the monster had surged forward, amber filling his eyes, a growl rumbling in his chest.

He’d be damned if she would give up. She wanted him to hurry, she’d demanded he hurry, she could accept the consequences later.

Except she hadn’t accepted them. She’d fought him, raged at him, nearly hated him for not revealing truths that he feared would overshadow love with pity. He would have her love, he would have the mate he’d sensed the night he knelt by her bed, realizing in one blinding second what Cat had always known. She belonged to him, totally. His life, his heart, his mate.

And once again, her determination to have him in her life had distracted him from other goals. This time, plans he’d had to ensure not just her future safety, but her happiness. She clearly saw how he planned to bring her parents back into her life in a way that would ensure Cat didn’t suffer any doubts on her parents’ part. He’d wanted to wait, to tell her of those years he was lost inside the monster. He’d wanted to do it at a time that she was secure in her love for him, at a time when pity wouldn’t influence her emotions.

He’d wanted everything safe and secure for her, no matter the cost to himself.

“Sometimes, you see too much,” he murmured at her side, eyes still closed, though his voice was resigned. “Stop thinking so hard, Cat, you’ll give yourself a headache. Then you’ll give me a headache.”

She gazed at him thoughtfully for long moments.

“How long have you been able to read my thoughts, Graeme?” she asked softly, reminding herself to kick his ass.

One eye opened, peered at her for a moment with male irritation then closed once more.

“Not long,” he finally sighed. “The night you were injected with that paralytic you were in so much pain it was easier to read you. The Breed mind is far harder to sense than a human mind, and even with humans, some of their blocks are incredibly strong.”

“But you’re reading me now,” she pointed out suspiciously.

He grunted at that. “It doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. The telepathy is more a highly developed impression. I can sense you saw far more than I’m comfortable with during the mating. I knew when I felt that merging you would know me, inside and out. And I’ve always known when you’re thinking too hard. My head tightens in warning.” The amusement in his voice earned him a moment’s glare.

“That’s not nice, Graeme,” she sighed. “I was really looking forward to kicking your ass for hiding so many things from me. Now I can’t, because you were right, throwing any of that information at me would have been too much considering everything else I was dealing with.”

“Separating you from Orrin and Terran and the cousins was the hardest part,” he said regretfully. “You love them, and they love you, separate from Claire. Claire drew strength from them.”

She swallowed tightly at the mention of Claire.

“She’s gone,” she whispered then, feeling his arms surround her as he pulled her tighter against his chest. “Completely gone.”

His hand stroked over her hair as his lips pressed against her forehead. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” And that sorrow was there in his voice.

Cat sat up slowly, feeling him follow her, the power he carried so effortlessly reaching out to her.

“What happened, Cat?” he finally asked as his arms pulled her to him once again, holding her close. “I felt you die.” The agony of that sensation filled his voice. “I felt it. How are you here now?”

Cat swallowed tightly before pushing away from him enough to turn to him, to allow him to hold her gaze. “I don’t know.” And she didn’t.

Frowning, she fought to remember more than the vague impressions she’d awakened with.