Guilt seared her with a slash of pain that raced across her chest, and a sense of fear that never failed to weaken her knees. And he sensed it, just as he always did. She watched his eyes darken, his body tense as the scent of it reached him.
“I haven’t killed you yet,” he growled. “I’d imagine you could drop the fear now, Cassa.”
“Perhaps it’s just a case of feminine wariness?” She asked a question rather than making a statement. Breeds could smell a lie, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of smelling hers.
“And arousal?” His head tilted to the side as though the knowledge of it were a curiosity to him.
“I bet a lot of women are aroused by you.” She was careful to keep her tone even, calm. No nervousness, no hint of guilt. She’d learned over the years how to cover most responses when around Breeds. They sensed too much, knew too much. And Cassa had far too many secrets.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” he stated, as he continued to watch her much too closely. “Why fear me now?”
Cassa could only shake her head. And stare. She stared at those golden flecks in his eyes, unable to break the hold they had on her. She wanted, no, she ached to touch him, and that was by far the most dangerous impulse she had ever known. And the thought of that need infuriated her. He was the last man in the world she should ache for. The last one that she should need, and she knew it.
“What do you want, Cabal?” She bit the words out as she tried to hold back her anger and her need.
His gaze narrowed. The look was a warning, and it was one that common sense suggested she heed. Unfortunately, common sense had never been her strong point.
“I hear you’ve been spending quite a bit of time with the Feline Breed doctor, Ely Morrey,” he stated. “Why?”
Why? Why, because she was afflicted, that was why. Because her body insisted on retaining some damned hormone within it that she had picked up when she had lost her sanity eleven years ago.
She remembered the moment clearly. The second she had touched her fingers to her lips and tasted Cabal’s blood on them. Such a small thing. It shouldn’t have been enough, and actually, it hadn’t been enough to begin mating heat. But it had been enough to affect her in curious ways. Ways that Dr. Morrey was still attempting to decipher.
Mating heat was the Breed curse. Some Breeds claimed it was their strength; others saw it as a weakness. Of course, it did depend on whether or not the Breed was mated.
“I’m working on a story.” That was definitely a lie, and there was no way to hide the scent of it.
A dark blond brow lifted with mocking curiosity.
“I hate it when you lie to me,” he warned her softly. “You’ve been making visits to Ely for the past several years on a regular basis. You would have written the story by now.”
Cassa’s chin lifted at the deliberate arrogance in his tone.
“Ely’s a friend of mine, Cabal, just as the other wives at Sanctuary are friends. I don’t need an excuse to visit with them any more than you need an excuse to visit with your pride leader, Callan.”
It was a deliberate attempt to get him off the subject of Ely. Everyone knew that Cabal recognized no Breed as his pride leader. He had lost his pride, his family, during a rescue that had gone to hell, and he claimed no other.
“Stop trying to distract me,” he growled as he moved closer.
Cassa could feel that nearness. She swore her body heated by several degrees when he moved closer.
“I wouldn’t dare attempt to distract you.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her robe as she glared at him. “Don’t you have better things to do than to harass me? Shouldn’t you be out shooting at Breed enemies or lurking in the shadows for some reason?”
His jaw tightened. To say he was displeased would be putting it mildly. But she had never pleased this particular Breed in any manner. She doubted she would begin tonight.
“Are you in mating heat?”
The question had her staring at him in shock. Excitement raced through her now, just as it always did anytime they came anywhere close to a confrontation. She could feel her body flushing with heat, her heart racing furiously.
“If I were, would I be here arguing with you?” she snapped back. “I’d be with my mate, wouldn’t I?”
Unfortunately not. Her mate was standing in front of her, and he was known as the Breed poster boy for sexual excess. The son of a bitch had had more women under his belt in the past eleven years than most men could achieve in two lifetimes. He was a tomcat, plain and simple.
She watched as his jaw tightened further, as his nostrils flared in his attempt to catch the scent of mating heat.
Cassa wondered how the mates of Breeds could stand knowing that any Breed in the vicinity could tell when they were in heat and aroused. It had to be horribly discomforting. She knew for a fact that the physical discomfort could become excessively painful, and in some cases, dangerous.
She would have preferred to have stayed as far away from mating heat as possible.