Her claws were tipped with venom. She could be very mean, capable of cutting him into little pieces with insulting words. She had perfected her sarcastic, uncaring attitude until it was an art form.
She'd already lost him and she hadn't even opened her mouth. She couldn't do this. She could fight any battle asked of her, walk unafraid into the heart of the enemy's camp and steal a woman out from under them to set her free, but she couldn't do this. She pressed her lips together tightly, legs trembling, turning to jelly, wanting to run. She tasted fear in her mouth. Fear. Her. Solange Sangria, afraid of a man. She detested the feeling.
Solange with a man. For the first time in her adult life, she was terrified. Absolutely terrified. She couldn't do this. She couldn't face this--the one person on earth she had given her soul to. She had opened her soul to him, told him every secret desire, every fear, everything. Jaguar-women were naturally submissive to their males. They fought until the strongest, most aggressive dared to mate with them, and they submitted to the male. She was preprogrammed for that fight/submit dance between male and female, and it terrified her. She could never acknowledge that side of her personality. She could never submit, yet that part of her wanted to, so she pushed it deep, submerged it totally beneath the fighter, hidden from all eyes--all but his.
She shivered--or trembled; she honestly didn't know which. He caught her chin between his thumb and finger in a firm grip. Birds took wing in her stomach. His touch was just as she imagined, gentle but impossibly firm, the touch of a man in complete command of himself--and of her.
"Look at me, Solange."
His voice was every bit as gentle as his touch. A low caress, like velvet against skin. Tender, but a command nevertheless.
She struggled with her nature, with the heat between them, the need in her for a soul mate, for someone to share her lonely life, a need so strong she could barely think with wanting to be everything he desired. Someone like her might get lost in someone like him. Another man, one less--just less--and she would be able to save herself. The other side of her, fierce and proud--the side she was most familiar with, the one she took refuge and comfort in--would never respect a lesser man.
Silence stretched between them. It was sheer agony to obey. It was worse not to. He left the decision completely up to her, but the force of his personality was daunting.
"Does it require courage, then, to look at me, kessake--little cat?" That soft voice that stroked over nerve endings shook her.
He sounded so deceptively gentle, yet she'd seen him rip the heart from a master vampire. She actually trembled.
"I believe, if there is one woman with courage on this earth--it is my lifemate."
Her gaze jumped to his. Locked with those cool green eyes. No, they were slowly going as blue as the deepest water, changing color as the warrior in him gave way to the man. Her stomach somersaulted. Her heart contracted.
He smiled at her, a slow, sexy smile that took her breath. His teeth flashed at her, perfect and straight. His straight aristocratic nose, even his scars belonged--enhanced rather than detracted from his potent masculine aura. Everything about him seemed so perfect. She stood there soaked to the skin, shivering, her hair hanging in damp trails, wild and out of control, her body covered in scars, bruises and lacerations, streaked with blood and reeking of sweat instead of perfume.
His thumb slid over her lips, the softest of brushes. His palm framed the side of her face. He looked at her as if there were no other woman in the world. An illusion, but it warmed her when she was cold inside.
"Hello."
That simple greeting accompanied by that intense blue gaze burning over her, that slow, sexy smile and the dark, melting voice, turned her inside out. She moistened her lips, wanting to answer, but no sound would come out. She could only stand there helplessly looking up at him, wishing she was Juliette or Jasmine. Anyone but Solange Sangria.
"I need to inspect you, s?vamet--my heart."
Her heart jumped again. Inspect her? For what? To see if she was good enough for a man like him? A thousand ugly smart-ass comments welled up, but she couldn't utter a word, she couldn't even look at him. Mutely, she shook her head. Tears burned