Was he simply telling her what she wanted to hear?
Staring up at him, Cat remembered how easily he once manipulated the soldiers, scientists and techs in those labs.
The same ones he’d killed before escaping when they’d retaken him.
He had a way of looking inside a person, knowing their greatest desire and making them believe they could acquire it. That only with his help could they acquire it.
And he knew her. He knew her so well.
She had no doubt he’d quickly learned exactly what she ached for, what she’d needed most from him in the years she’d spent away from him. It wouldn’t be all that hard to figure out. She’d idolized him as a child, weaved fantasies of how they would escape and travel the world. Then she’d shared them with him. When her pain had been so great she’d begged to die, he’d reshared those fantasies with her and added to them. He’d painted pictures of great adventures and how she would never be alone. Because he’d always be a part of her life.
But he hadn’t been.
He’d left her alone with nothing but those fantasies and a love for him that had continued to grow despite her bitterness and the losses she’d faced. A love that had grown as she had grown, and as she had grown, it had only entrenched itself deeper inside her.
But that didn’t mean she had to reveal it to him. It didn’t mean he’d realized it existed. That part of herself she kept hidden in the deepest reaches of her soul. In a place that never saw the light of day, and rarely saw her own realizations.
“I know I’ve always been important to you, Graeme,” she whispered, her heart beating with a heavy, sluggish pace as that emotion threatened to escape and swamp her. “You made me yours when you made me your experiment . . .”
Fury burned in his eyes as a sharp, commanding growl silenced her. Some commands she could ignore. That one, even she hesitated to ignore.
“That is not all you are to me now or then,” he snarled, the abrupt shift from gentleness to frustration threatening to give her mental whiplash.
A vicious growl rumbled in his chest as he turned from her, raking both hands through his hair before whirling back to her just as quickly.
“You think what I feel, my dedication to you and to your safety, has been because of that fucking research?” The fury pulsing in his tone had her brow lifting, one hand moving to her hip and her eyes narrowing as she watched him.
“I think there’s a very good chance you identified something genetic where the mating’s concerned and you ensured it,” she admitted, a sense of sadness overwhelming her. “We were without any sense of security or bonds in that place. I think you needed a bond to hold back that spiraling insanity you spoke of. You were alone, until you created something that would ensure you had something, someone, to hold on to.”
If she hadn’t had him, if she hadn’t thought she was connected to him, that she had someone in that place, then she would have died herself long before any chance came to escape.
“You infuriate me.” The declaration was followed by a slight shadowing of those stripes across his face.
Here was the Bengal she knew. He might call himself Graeme now, but this was the creature she had known and loved for so long.
Loved.
She wanted to smack herself for that thought.
“I infuriate you?” Her temper flared at the very thought of it. “Sorry there, big boy, but I passed infuriation several years ago when I all but laid out a red carpet to lead you to me and you bypassed it as though it didn’t exist.”
Something about his stance, about the air of heavy intent he directed her way, had her almost pausing.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked as though sincerely confused at the information.
She stepped closer, her hand dropping from her hip to form a fist at her side.
“Two years ago, just before Diane Broen began tracking you, Graeme,” she hissed, “I contacted the email account you set up before we ever left the labs. I contacted you and I asked you to come for me.” Her breath caught, the memory of that email slicing through her. “I told you where to find me and you didn’t come.”
God, how she’d needed him. She’d needed him so desperately she’d been willing to face the fury he’d felt for her, to see him, if only for a moment.
“I was here.” The frustration evident in his tone would have been amusing if it hadn’t hurt so bad at the time. “I’ve been here, Cat, watching over you since before that fucking email.”