His touch did something to her, it made her weaken, made her melt with the sensations that began building in her body and the pleasure that began spiraling through her senses.
“And later,” he pointed out with a vein of humor. “Very cleverly stealing that debt from Jonas for yourself. I didn’t see that coming. Lobo wasn’t happy with it either.”
“My heart breaks,” she murmured. “Really, Graeme, not all the lessons you taught me were wasted.”
“So it would seem.” His fingers lifted, his arm outstretching as he leaned closer, bracketing her body as she leaned back into the pillows.
“What happened in the research center when they recaptured you, G,” she whispered as his lips lowered to the curve of her shoulder. “What pulled that rage from the depths of your soul and created the Gideon I saw tonight?”
He stiffened against her. She had to know what happened to him. True, he’d never been completely sane, but he’d never let that part of himself free either. It had slept, lending him strength, adding to his intelligence, but always in the background.
“Nothing that need concern you.” The arrogance in his voice astounded her, as did his refusal to answer her.
“And you expect me to trust you?” she all but begged him for answers. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
“I don’t require your trust,” he rasped. “I require your touch, and the freedom to touch you.”
“Only the physical?” Bracing her hands against his chest she stared back at him, hating the weakness, the need to give in to him. Hating his arrogance and refusal to let her know him. It enraged her. He wanted all of her and wanted to give nothing in return.
Lifting her hand from his chest he gripped her fingers, moving them quickly to the heavy weight of the arousal contained behind the zipper of his jeans.
A gasp of shock, of arousal, left her lips as he curled her fingers around the evidence of his erection.
“That’s physical,” he snarled. “So fucking physical it’s tormented the hell out of me for five years. When you gave me your blood without the serum needed with the transfusion, you began this, Cat. You set this in motion, though I warned you not to.”
“You were dying.” The memory of that night was another nightmare, another reason not to trust him.
“Death was preferable to the Mating Heat, damn you.”
His hands gripped her shoulders, giving her a hard shake as he glared down at her. “You were fucking twelve. When I awoke I was crazed with pain and the knowledge that if I stayed with you, I could end up becoming more of a monster than those I helped you escape from.”
Anger flashed through her. Lifting her head until they were nose to nose, she sneered back at him. “Then perhaps you should have been more careful in who you chose to become your own personal little experiment. Or chose the genetics you forced inside my body more wisely.”
He had created her. If he didn’t like who and what she was, then it was his own damned fault now, wasn’t it?
His eyes narrowed on her, the amber flakes burning brighter in his gaze.
“Cat . . .” The warning growl only offended her further.
“Get off me.” She pushed at his shoulders, determined to escape the pleasure, the warmth she felt at his touch. “Get off me now, Graeme. No means no, and I’m telling you now I don’t want you.”
He jumped away from her, the low, feral snarl that accompanied his action causing her to move quickly across the bed to jump from it and face him from the opposite side.
“You want me,” he accused her furiously, his brows lowering heavily over the jade green glitter of his eyes. “I can smell the scent of your arousal and it deepens each time I touch you. You’re my mate. Mine, Cat.”
“I’m no mate of yours,” she denied with a disgusted curl of her lip. “I may enjoy playing a few of your games, and I may be forced for the time being to accept your protection, but I don’t owe you jack for it. You owe me, Graeme, and you owe me dearly.”
She would never forget each instance that he owed her for either. They were burned in her brain. Lacerated into her soul with scars of such betrayal that at times, she’d hated him for each and every one of them.
“I owe you?” The dangerous rasp of his voice didn’t affect her in the least. “And how do you imagine, my little tigress, that I owe you?”
“Think about it, Graeme,” she bit out, her voice tight and filled with years’ worth of resentment. “Why would a tigress renounce her alpha? And trust me, I renounced you years ago. Use those superior senses Dr. Foster claimed you had, big boy. Because that mark you left on me has been gone far longer than you can even imagine.”