Las Vegas
After consuming enough food to feed a small army, or one hungry Were, Caine escorted Cassie back through the casino. Instinctively, he slowed his pace to match his companion’s as she studied the drunken crowds that weaved their way past blinking machines toward the cover band singing at the back of the vast room.
He wanted to be far away from the chaotic blast of sound and light and emotions that beat at his senses. His change to pureblooded Were left him hypersensitive to even the most subtle stimulus and being stuck in the middle of Vegas made him feel as if he were being sandblasted by sensations.
Worse, his most primitive instincts were stirred to a fever pitch by the male gazes that followed Cassie with blatant lust.
But, he wasn’t a masochist.
With every passing night it was growing more difficult to keep to his role as protector. Spending any extra time alone with her in a hotel room . . .
A very bad idea.
Especially when she’d just dropped her latest little bombshell on him.
Covertly studying her perfect profile, he kept a possessive hand at her lower back, steering her toward the front lobby. Maybe if they were on the streets he could clear the cobwebs and return his mind to the task of keeping this female safe.
Which was all he should be thinking about.
Busy reminding himself that there wasn’t a demon around who wouldn’t kill to get their hands on a genuine prophet, Caine was unprepared when Cassie came to an abrupt halt, regarding him with a baffled expression.
“Have I done something wrong?”
He frowned at the unexpected question. “Why do you ask?”
“You keep staring at me.”
“I’m not the only one,” he muttered, curling his lips into a snarl as a group of men dressed in khakis and polo shirts halted to ogle Cassie’s slender body shown in shocking detail by the sundress. “You need more clothes on.”
“I’m not going to be distracted. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Caine heaved a sigh. For once the emerald eyes held a remarkable clarity. The one time he wanted her to be oblivious to him, he wryly acknowledged.
A typical female.
“What you said earlier,” he abruptly admitted.
She grimaced. “I’m sorry, I still don’t know why I felt compelled to come here,” she said, misunderstanding his confession. “I suppose it will eventually come to me.”
He shook his head. “No, not that.”
“Then what?”
“About you . . .”
“Caine?” she prompted.
Oh hell. He had to know. It had been eating at him for the past two hours. “About you not being as experienced as other women.”
“Oh.” She tilted her head to the side. “Are you asking if I’ve ever had sex?”
With a muffled exclamation, Caine tugged Cassie into a shallow alcove. “Shh.”
“Why?” She waved a hand toward the passing crowd. “They all talk about sex here. A lot.”
He swallowed a moan, his body reacting with predictable enthusiasm to her words. “You haven’t answered my question.”
Without warning, she lifted her hand to stroke her fingertips lightly down the line of his jaw.