“Remember one thing,” he suddenly growled, causing her to tilt her head and stare at him in surprise.
“You’re mine now, Natalie. I won’t tolerate another man in your life. Or in your heart.”
Her teeth snapped together a second before her lips parted to sling a searing retort his way. He chose that moment to jerk the door open and face the sheriff and her ex-husband, Mike Claxton. Mike looked frustrated, furious, his blue eyes snapping in anger as the sheriff of Buffalo Gap shot Natalie a resigned look before turning to Saban with an edge of wariness. Sheriff Randolph had the broad, heavy build of a linebacker, dwarfing Mike’s smaller, leaner frame. His dark hair was cut military short, his dark eyes sharp and intelligent.
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, Saban.” He nodded to Saban. “But it seems we have a complaint.”
“Mike, what are you doing here?” Natalie stepped forward, only to pause as Saban sliced a hard, warning look her way.
She almost rolled her eyes, but something about the set of his expression, the ready tension in his body, warned her that he wasn’t quite ready to shelve the whole protective, possessive male thing. She hated the thought. Hated the thought that the trust and the independence she needed could be wiped away so easily in his mind.
“Look at her, Sheriff,” Mike suddenly snapped. “I told you something was wrong with her. Are you ready to listen to me now?”
Shock had Natalie backing up a step as Mike turned his enraged gaze on her. This was one of the reasons their marriage had been doomed from the first month. Jealous rages, an almost fanatical certainty that Natalie was always looking at other men, lusting for them. She shouldn’t have been shocked, much less surprised.
Natalie shifted her gaze from Mike to the sheriff. “Sheriff Randolph, it’s good to see you again.” She gave him an uncomfortable smile. “You haven’t caught me at my best this morning.”
“I apologize for that, ma’am.” He shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “Mr. Claxton here seems unwilling to accept the fact that you’re hale and hearty though.”
“Look at her, she’s pale. She looks drugged,” Mike accused as he started to step into the house.
“You have not been invited inside.” Saban stepped forward, his low voice dangerous.
“Get out of my way, Breed.” Mike was shaking now, his voice holding a nervous tremor as Natalie watched him fight stepping back. “I want to talk to my wife.”
“Ex-wife.” Natalie didn’t wait for Saban to answer to that one. She turned back to the sheriff instead.
“I’m sorry you were bothered.”
“Dammit, Natalie. Pack your things, you’re coming home. This foolishness has to stop somewhere,”
Mike bit out virulently, his fists clenching at his sides as he was forced to stare around Saban rather than walking through him. “I’ll take you home.”
“Your new friend has a death wish, Ted,” Saban told the sheriff. “Get him out of here.”
“Now, Saban, let’s be reasonable about this.” The sheriff pulled his hat from his head and swiped his hand over the short cut of his hair. “Mr. Claxton just wants to talk to her. Let him see her, see she’s not under any undue influence, and then he’ll leave.”
Saban’s body jerked tighter as a ready, dangerous tension filled him.
“What sort of undue influence would I be under?” Natalie turned back to watch Mike suspiciously. He could be paranoid, he could be a bastard, but he wasn’t normally insane. Normally. She was starting to revise her opinion of that. He had that bulldog look on his face that assured her he was about to go off the deep end on her with one of his paranoid accusations.
“I want to talk to her away from him,” Mike snapped at the sheriff then. Sheriff Randolph grimaced as he glanced at Saban almost hesitantly. “Mr. Claxton, I can’t make her talk to you alone.” He glanced at Natalie then, his dark brown eyes intent, somber as he studied her. “It’s up to you, ma’am.”
“What the hell are you pulling here, Ted?” Saban snarled then. “Take your friend and get the hell out of here.”
Sheriff Randolph wasn’t buying something here. Natalie could see the suspicion in his eyes as he glanced from her to Saban, and she could see Mike’s anger growing.
“Saban, that’s enough.” The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. “Why don’t you and the sheriff go get coffee—”
“You think I’ll be relegated to the kitchen like a recalcitrant child and leave you alone with this madman?” He turned his head, his fierce green eyes pinning her with cold fire. “I don’t think so.”
She breathed in deeply and prayed for patience.
“I think you’re going to take the sheriff to the kitchen for coffee, and you’re going to do it without growling like a temperamental five-year-old.” She smiled back at him, a thin, furious curve of her lips.
“Don’t make me think of an ‘or else.’ That’s just so tacky, and I do hate appearing tacky.”
Sheriff Randolph cleared his throat, obviously fighting a chuckle as Saban glowered back at her, one side of his lips curling back to display those wicked canines. Canines that had pierced her shoulder, holding her in place more than once through the night as his tongue laved, and the hormone burned the wound.