Chapter Thirteen
He thought she was just a child, too immature understand the facts the life. Amanda moved slowly away from Kiowa after the initial reaction to the other man’s touch. The pain had been…horrendous. Every nerve in her body has screamed in agony, rejecting the touch, no matter how helpful.
Moving through the living room, she rubbed her arms slowly, concentrating on just breathing, on allowing the information she had heard to process in her head. She wasn’t a stupid person, and she wasn’t a child. She had managed to understand every word of what she had overhead. And she had overheard a lot. Too much.
“I didn’t mean to call you an animal after…” She waved her hand as she turned back to face him. “I was shocked.”
“Yes, you did.” He shrugged his broad shoulders as he refused to accept the apology. “I’ve watched you for a while, Ms. Marion. Several weeks in fact. My impression of you is that you pretty much say what you mean.”
“So watching me allows you to form a basis for your opinions?” she asked him curiously, trying to still her anger at his arrogance.
“In most cases.” He nodded sharply before moving past her to the kitchen. “I’ll fix breakfast then you can sleep. We’ll be here for a while, so I guess we’ll be bombarded by Callan and Taber’s wives as well as their sisters. Damned welcoming party, I guess.”
She turned as he entered the kitchen. The half wall between the two rooms allowed her a clear view to what he was doing. Moving about bare-chested, muscles rippling as he moved ingredients out of the refrigerator and onto the counter.
She couldn’t exactly call him handsome, though he was definitely unique. At least six feet two inches tall, leanly muscled. If there was an ounce of fat on that body she hadn’t found it. And her hands had been in places they shouldn’t be.
His thick, devil’s black hair fell to his shoulders and when he turned toward her, the stark, well-defined features of his face held her gaze. He was simply mesmerizing. Not handsome, she assured herself. But his sharp nose and well-arched brows over deep black eyes were definitely worth looking at. And his lips.
She really didn’t want to look at his lips. But she did. They made her mouth water at the thought of the pleasure to be had there.
“I heard what they said,” she said. “About the mating.”
He didn’t pause, his expression never changed.
“So I assumed,” he finally said as he flicked a glance toward her.
“It won’t work,” she told him. “We can’t let this happen, you know we can’t.”
She couldn’t imagine being tied to this man in such a way. If she thought her brother was hard, then Kiowa was pure steel.
“If you can stand it, then so can I.” His voice didn’t raise; it didn’t lower. She had seen him furious, heard him enraged, filled with lust and just plain mocking in the few hours she had been with him. This confused her.
“Kiowa…” She licked her lips nervously. “I don’t even know your last name.”
“I don’t have one.” He turned away from her, bent at the waist and dragged a teflon skillet from under the cabinet.
“Everyone has a last name,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “You have to have one for a social security number, to get a job.”
“Innocence is so refreshing,” he said. And dammit, his voice didn’t change. Unemotional. Flat. She was beginning to appreciate her brother more and more.
“What do you mean by that?” She crossed her arms over her br**sts, mostly to hide her hard ni**les.
He kept looking at them. Though she admitted they were hard to miss.
“I mean, Ms. Marion, that if you move in the right circles, or should I say the wrong circles, you can get away with damned near anything. I have a dozen false identities, social security numbers and passports. All with very illegitimate last names. But I do not have a last name. My mother’s family refused to allow me hers, and it’s hard for a Breed to claim a father. Therefore, I am, lastnameless.”
“School… Birth records…” She shook her head. This was impossible.
“Schooled myself for the most part.” He filled the skillet with bacon. Evidently he ate a lot. “My grandfather kept me hidden in the mountains after I was weaned from my mother. As I grew older, he left me there alone. He always provided books, though. Television. I wasn’t deprived.”
She blinked in shock. “That’s not a childhood,” she whispered.
“I wasn’t a child.” He looked at her again, his eyes dull. “I was an animal, Ms. Marion. One he had no choice but to protect because his honor demanded it. His blood was in my veins whether he liked it or not. He did his best.”
There was acceptance in his voice. No regret, no recriminations, no anger or pain. Just acceptance.
“You’re not an animal,” she snapped, trembling in shock that anyone would treat a child so cruelly. “I said I was sorry. I was…” She drew in a hard, deep breath. “I was frightened, Kiowa. I reacted and it was wrong.”