Which was a year before he'd left to go to Denver and had ended up in jail while the police sorted out the mess of his accident. While it hadn't been one of his more sober years, he was sure he'd remember having a semipermanent mate. He'd never been like his brothers in that respect — he'd never made half promises to the women he mated. Even back in his hellion days, he'd been honest enough to admit he was after nothing more than a good time, and those he was with always knew that. So why this woman believed he'd believe they'd been together more than one moon dance was beyond him. Unless she thought he'd been so drunk he wouldn't even remember.
Even so, what would it gain her?
"And we were together how long?"
She hesitated. "Nearly the whole year."
No way. He couldn't stand this woman's scent. Maybe drunk he wouldn't have cared so much, but even so, they couldn't have been together an entire year without him at least remembering some part of it. He'd never been that drunk. And he could recall most of the year — just not her part of it, which to him implied she'd never played a major part.
"Sorry, but I have no memory of you or our time together."
Moons, you're such a cold —
Yeah, he cut in, oddly annoyed at Neva's insistence at believing her friend rather than him. I know what I am. What I don't know yet is what you are.
The door behind him opened, and Martin stepped inside. "Ah, nasty wounds you have there, young lady."
Betise's smile held the first true hint of warmth Duncan had seen, but it did little to wipe the hardness from her face.
"I hardly think I can be called young anymore."
Martin smiled as he placed his medical bag on the table and opened it up. Duncan noted the small, empty vials inside. "Compared to me, you're little more than a pup."
Duncan glanced at Neva. "Why don't you and I move out to the balcony while the doctor looks after Betise?" He made it an order, using the power of the moon bond to force her into obedience.
Her eyes flashed and her fists clenched, but she had no option other than obeying. She spun and all but stomped out the French doors.
He followed her. She didn't go far, stopping to the left of the doorway. She crossed her arms and glared at him. You'd better keep those shields of yours well up, because the minute you lower them, you'll pay.
Then he'd better make sure he did something worthy of the pain she planned to inflict. He continued to advance on her. Her face went pale, and she held out a hand, pressing it against his chest. "Don't."
He stopped, took her hand from his chest and lightly kissed her fingers. "Don't what?"
"You know what." Her soft voice was a mix of breathlessness and scorn. "We can't, not with Betise this close."
"I don't particularly care about Betise. Never have."
Her gaze searched his, then she shook her head. "How can you say that?"
"Easily. I open my mouth, and the words come out."
"You haven't got a heart in that chest of yours, have you?"
"I certainly haven't discovered one yet. Take off your dress."
Anger ran around him. "No." She wrenched her hand from his and crossed her arms.
He raised an eyebrow and reached for the power of the moon again. She swore softly and vehemently, and amusement swam through him. "And I thought the golden tribe were such gentle souls."
"We are, generally. Must be the company I've been keeping of late." She threw her dress on the ground then crossed her arms again.
The moon caressed her golden skin, and her ni**les were taut with cold and arousal. He was as hard as hell and wanted nothing more than to take her right there and then. But that's exactly what she expected him to do, so it was the one thing he couldn't.
He reached out, gently running a finger across her br**sts. She trembled under his touch, swallowing heavily. Hate and desire warred in the emotive swirl that briefly surrounded them both.
"How well do you know Betise?"
Surprise flickered briefly in her eyes. "She's a regular customer at the diner. Been going there for years."