"Quit being so melodramatic. I didn't force my way in, and I didn't rip through your shields because there weren't any."
"Really? Are you willing to bet on that?"
His eyes narrowed at the challenge. “Yes."
"Right here, right now?"
"Yes.” He uncrossed his arms and flexed his fingers.
She imagined he was doing the same mentally. Not that it would do him much good. She might not have Neva's mental strength, but she was still a product of her father, and her father was the head of their pack simply because he was the strongest.
"And what price would you be willing to pay?” Her sudden grin undoubtedly had a nasty edge, because right at that moment she was feeling particularly nasty. “How about if I'm right, you revoke your little addition to the moon promise?"
"No.” His answer was immediate and obviously instinctive.
She felt like baring her teeth and growling in frustration. Why did this man always take, without ever being willing to give, even just this once? “Afraid you'll lose?"
"You're mine, Vannah, and you will remain mine until I say otherwise."
"If you were so damn sure I belonged to you, you'd be letting me make the choice. But you aren't sure, are you?” She snorted softly. “I never took you for a coward—"
She stopped, glancing down as movement near the door caught her eye. A big-busted blonde had entered the club. Dressed in a short skirt, a white tube top that flared brightly under the strobe lights, and what looked to be six-inch stilettos, the blonde definitely fit the wet-dream image Denny had given them.
She mentally cursed the woman's timing, but she looked back at Cade and said, “I think our quarry just entered."
He made a low rumble that sounded as ominous as thunder, but he glanced downstairs. “She fits the description."
She nodded, briefly watching the woman as she teetered on the edge of the steps. “How do you want to play this?"
The dark look he cast her way suggested that this was the last game he wanted to play right now. “We wait until she makes contact with Denny."
She nodded and leaned on the railing, her arms crossed as she watched the woman totter around the bar side of the dance floor. “Stilettos aren't that woman's natural footwear."
"What makes you say that?"
"The fact that she looks ready to topple over at any minute."
"Well, it can't be easy walking with br**sts that bountiful,” he commented, his voice flat yet somehow hinting at amusement. “And given her tight buns, the front to back weight ratio is way out of kilter."
Savannah looked at him. Laugh lines crinkled the corners of his eyes, lending his profile a sudden warmth. Though still angry with him, she couldn't help smiling. “You're a breast man?"
"Any man is a breast man, and don't let them tell you otherwise.” His gaze slid from her face down to her chest. Her ni**les puckered under his scrutiny, and warmth flushed across her skin. “However, I have always been of the opinion that a nice, plump handful is all that a man really needs."
"Just as well, seeing that a plump handful is all you're going to get when it comes to me."
He raised an eyebrow. “Have I ever complained?"
"No.” She frowned as the blonde stopped and reached into the small bag slung over her shoulder. “But you've never complimented, either."
"Remiss of me."
"Very."
He glanced downstairs, then back at her. “What if I say you have the most luscious br**sts I've ever seen?"
"I'd say you were full of shit."
His sudden grin was unexpected and made her heart do an old, familiar dance.