was fascinated.”
She shook her head, her pulse leaping beneath his fingertips. “You glared at me all the time.”
He grimaced, recalling the petty jealousy that’d plagued him for so long.
“Because you were panting over Rage,” he muttered.
A flush stained her cheeks. “I never panted.”
“You did,” Ice insisted, his voice a growl. The mere thought of Cammy being with another male was enough to make him conjure homicidal thoughts. “You wanted to be with him.”
She paused, visibly considering whether or not to tell him the truth.
“I don’t know if it’s what I wanted, or what I thought I should want,” she at last confessed in tones so low he barely caught the words.
He arched his brows. “What you thought you should want?”
“Rage has been my best friend since we were cubs. He always felt comfortable.”
“And you don’t feel comfortable with me?”
Her answer came without hesitation. “No.”
“Good.” He lowered his head, kissing her with a fierce surge of joy. He didn’t want her comfortable with him. He wanted her excited and aroused and breathless when he walked into a room. That’s how he felt every time she was near. “I’m not sure how many times I was forced to leash my desire to punch Rage in his handsome face.”
She bit her bottom lip, her eyes glowing as her cat responded to his kiss. Her puma wasn’t conflicted. It wanted him.
Now.
“He’s really a very good guy and a dedicated Hunter,” she said, a shiver racing through her body.
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But he was a competitor for your attention. Which meant my primitive side could only see him as the enemy,” he admitted with brutal honesty.
“And now?”
His gaze locked on her lips. “Now I don’t intend to punch him.”
“I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”
His hands cupped her face, his gaze holding hers as the air heated with his searing hunger. “And I don’t intend to waste any more time waiting for you to notice me,” he growled with unmistakable determination.
She gave a breathless laugh. “Trust me, I’ve noticed.”
He stole another kiss, savoring the lush satin of her. His thumbs traced the line of her jaw, tilting back her head as he dipped his tongue between her lips. He groaned at the sweet taste of her feminine desire.
“Keep noticing,” he murmured, brushing his mouth over the silken heat of her cheek.
She trembled, her hands lifting to clutch at his shoulders. “Ice.”
“No.” He nipped her lower lip. “I don’t need you to say anything. I just wanted you to know that my cat is done waiting. He wants to be on the hunt.”
She pulled back, her expression impossible to read. “What if I’m not ready?”
“Then I get to enjoy stalking you,” he said, his cat not at all opposed to spending time playing with his prey. There were few things he liked better than a challenge. He studied her pale face. “Just tell me one thing.”
“What?”
“Are you scared of me?”
She blinked, seemingly caught off guard by his question.
“You can be intimidating,” she slowly said. “And arrogant. And mysterious. But no.” She gave a decisive shake of her head. “You don’t scare me.”
His cat roared with satisfaction.
The chase was on.
“That’s all I need to know.” With a last, lingering kiss he released his hold on her. “Are you ready?”
Her lips parted, then, clearly deciding now wasn’t the time to finish their conversation, she slid out of the Jeep. “Let’s go.”
***
Karen came back to consciousness with a sudden jolt.
Snapping open her eyes, she realized she was lying on the hard floor in her cage. But she wasn’t alone.
Trying to think through the fog in her brain, she cleared her throat. “What happened?”
“You passed out.” The man suddenly crouched beside her, his hair tousled as if he’d been running his fingers through the short strands.
Suddenly Karen remembered exactly what had sent her tumbling into darkness.
“Oh,” she breathed, her hand trembling as she lifted it to press against his lean face. “Ward.” She tested his name on her tongue. “You’re my son.”
He gave a slow nod, his tension a tangible force in the air. “Yes.”
“You’re as handsome as I dreamed.” She released a pained laugh, trying to absorb the realization that this was truly her son. She’d tried to imagine what he would look like a thousand times, but she’d always thought of him as a nine-year-old boy with skinned knees and a goofy grin. Not a grown man. “Although considerably older,” she wryly admitted.
“My Pantera blood makes me age at an accelerated rate,” he said, his tone absent and his brow