MINE TO POSSESS

He heard the words she would never say. “You give me far too much lip to be a patient. You’re Tally.” His to fight with, his to keep safe. “Do you want me to call Sascha?” He wasn’t too proud to ask the pack for help, not if it would lessen Tally’s pain. “She’s good at this kind of stuff.”


Talin bit her lower lip again, a lip already swollen from previous bites. He wanted to kiss the hurt, lick his tongue over it. The leopard couldn’t understand why he didn’t.

“I want to say no,” Talin replied even as he fought the internal battle. “I don’t know her. She’s a stranger and … well, I’m not sure what she feels about me.”

Knowing she would hate platitudes, he gave her the truth. “I didn’t smell any hint of dislike on her, and I’m damn good at picking up scents.”

“That doesn’t mean she likes me.” Talin took a deep breath and sat up straighter. “I don’t think anyone in your pack will ever like me. Look what I do to you.” Her hand brushed over his fist. “You’re bleeding.”

He released the fist and flexed his fingers, soaking in the heat of her touch. “It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last. Don’t worry about it.”

“Your pack worries about you,” she insisted. “I’m hardly bringing flowers and butterflies into your life.”

He gave her a tight smile. “I’m not sure I’d know what to do with those things anyway.” Giving in to the needs of the leopard, he cupped her cheek with his good hand. “I am who I am. They know that. If they worry, it’s because of things you can’t control.”

Her hand rose to lie over his, soft, fragile. “But part of who you are is because of me and what you did for me.”

“That goes both ways—part of who you are is because of what I did.” And what he had failed to do. He sat unmoving as her hand clenched on his, as her eyes darkened, that fine ring of bronze almost cat-bright against the gray.

“Do you think we can ever get past that?”

He shrugged, his leopard gaining strength as a fiercely sexual hunger uncurled inside of him, fostered by the delicacy of her touch, the soft warmth of her scent. The leopard needed to mark her, to convince itself she was okay. “Who says we have to?”

She frowned. “It’s like a white elephant between us, Clay.”

“No.” He moved his hand from her cheek to the side of her neck, closed. Careful, he told himself, be careful of your strength. “That would imply we aren’t aware of it. Which is definitely not true.”

Her frown turned into a scowl. “Are you saying you’re sick of talking about it?”

“Talking never solves anything.” He could feel her pulse, thudding hard, out of time. A panicked beat? Or something else? He was sure it was the latter—she wasn’t scared of him right this second. “I have no idea why women seem to like doing it so much.”

“It’s a good thing I make you talk—left alone you’d forget how to speak,” Talin said, trying to tease. “I’ll talk to your Sascha, too.” She was no use to anyone if her mind kept crashing out of control. “But not now.” Not when she was at such a huge disadvantage. The cardinal Psy was so composed, so elegantly beautiful, that Talin felt like a drab sparrow in comparison.

Clay’s eyes were on her lips and suddenly she remembered what had started this whole thing. Her palms dampened. “I told you not to look at me that way.”

He blinked, but it was the slow, lazy blink of a predator very sure of his prey. “Why does it bother you so much?”

“Because even as you touch me, you’re hating me.” She saw the truth in the rich, sensual green of his eyes. “Admit it—you hate me for what I did.”

“Why?” A stark demand, his hand remaining clasped around the side of her neck. “Why did you give away what you should have protected?”

The question caused an emotional rock to lodge in her throat. “Will you let me go?”

His answer was to stroke his thumb over her skin.

“Clay.” When his eyes focused on her this time, she sucked in a breath. The cat was clearly in charge. Irrational fear spiked, but she refused to buckle under again. “Intimidation never worked with me.”

He growled low in his throat. “Answer the fucking question.”

“I did it so I’d feel something,” she snapped, wanting to growl back at him. “I went through life feeling nothing. I couldn’t love the Larkspurs, I couldn’t make friends, I couldn’t do anything but pretend!”

“And did you?” His hand tightened on her neck.

Cold sweat broke out over her body but she stayed. “No. I’ve never felt as dead as I did when I was in those beds. I went into my mind like I used to do as a child—so I wouldn’t be present while my body was used.”

His eyes shifted back to human, as if she’d caught him by surprise. “Then why keep doing it?”