"About what?"
Cade wasn't looking at her, but scanning the crowd below. His stance was casual, yet tension touched the corners of his eyes and rode his shoulders. Residual anger over her comment, she thought, rather than any real concern about what she wanted to say.
She took a deep breath, gathering courage. “About Rosehall. About what happened between us."
He glanced at her briefly, his expression closed, giving no hint as to what he might be thinking or feeling. “What's there to talk about? We both know what happened."
"Maybe. But we've never talked about how it affected us."
He snorted softly. “It was a long time ago. Why drag it up now?"
"Because, one way or another, that past is still affecting the both of us."
"The only affect it's having on me is the fact that you're mine, and only mine, until I say otherwise.” He gave her a grin that was all wild wolf, all territorial. “And you had better believe that this time, I will defend that right."
She raised her eyebrows at the anger so evident in his soft words. “Did you hate sharing me with Jontee that much?"
"Yes."
"But wasn't that why I was targeted? Because I was sharing Jontee's bed?"
He looked away. “Yes."
His answer came out clipped, as if she were tearing the words from his lips forcefully. “Then your anger makes no sense."
"We shared a moon promise."
"A moon promise that had Jontee as the exception."
"Yes,” he all but growled.
She stared at him for a moment and said, “If I didn't know you better, I'd say that you were jealous of Jontee."
He gave her a brief look that could only be described as dark. “Don't be ridiculous."
Amusement, and perhaps just a touch of elation, ran through her. Maybe the emotional side of their relationship wasn't as one-sided as she'd thought. She turned to face him, propping her hip against the railing. “You were jealous.” Then and now.
"I was there to do a job. Sharing you was part of that job."
"That doesn't answer the question of jealousy."
"But it is the only answer that matters."
"Not to me."
His gaze searched hers. “Why?"
Because I loved you. Because I need to know if you even really liked me. She shrugged, feigning a casualness she suddenly didn't feel. “Because jealousy suggests I was more than just a means to an end."
He didn't move, didn't seem to react in any way. Yet the air between them suddenly crackled with tension. “And why does it matter to you?"
She stared at him for a moment, wondering how any man could be so obtuse. Did he really not know how she'd felt? Had he never really heard any of the things she'd said to him? “Because you were more than just another dancer to me."
His sudden and all too brief smile was edged with a wistfulness that made her soul ache. He reached out and brushed her cheek. His touch was a fire that seemed to burn deep into her flesh, and his eyes filled with an intentness that made her legs feel weaker than water.
"Do you know how you were chosen as my target?” he said softly, moving his hand down her neck and across her shoulder.
"No.” Her voice came out breathless. She could barely even breathe, let alone talk, because every inch of her thrummed with desire. She needed him, and it wasn't the heady atmosphere of the club or the demands of the moon. It had never been the moon, not for her. Not then, and if she were honest, not now. It was the man.