Her eyes narrowed as he lifted the remote. “News or Gilligan. Make your choice, Sugar.”
If only she didn’t want to sit there, cushioned by his broad chest, his arms around her. Feeling a warmth she had only dreamed of, feeling a need she had never allowed herself to recognize before Tanner.
She was weak. So weak.
“You aren’t allowed to molest me,” she snapped.
“You aren’t allowed to make the rules,” he grunted. “Now come here, pretty girl, before I change my mind. You know, I’ve been looking forward to that Gilligan’s Island marathon for months. You’re lucky I’m making the offer.”
She should feel guilty for knocking him out of the show, she was sure.
“They’re reruns, for God’s sake.” She settled carefully on the couch, between his thighs, turning toward the television and leaning back distrustfully.
“They’re in order,” he argued lightly, pulling her fully against his chest. “But cuddling you could compensate me. You know, Scheme, I don’t cuddle women much,” he told her as he flicked the television on.
“Cabal does the cuddling for you?” She snorted.
He chuckled against her chest. “Naw, Cabal’s not a cuddler either. But I think I like holding you.” One arm draped around her stomach. “I think I like holding you a lot.”
How had he known that world events and news would fascinate her? Tanner wondered as he settled back into the corner of the couch and watched the news.
Scheme was a pleasant weight against his chest, her head on his shoulder, her hair spreading out across his chest.
How many times had he entered Callan and Merinus’s private suite to find them on the couch just like this, watching soap operas. Their pride leader was fascinated with his mate’s soap operas.
For a man who had never cared much for television before he mated, Callan had become a regular couch potato during the quiet evenings at Sanctuary. That, or he really didn’t give a damn what he watched as long as he could hold his mate with close intimacy as they watched the shows.
But Scheme wasn’t his mate. He had been checking closely for the signs of it, close enough that his tongue was nearly raw from rubbing the sides of it over his teeth to check the glands there. There was nothing.
He wanted her.
He ached for her with a strength that made him half-crazy, but there was no mating hormone, no unusual sensitivity in his flesh.
Was it possible for a Breed to fall in love without mating? Even the scientists researching the phenomenon had no answer to that one. So far, every mated couple seemed deeply in love. The mating always came first though. The chemical, biological matching of two souls that would have been compatible, that would have loved anyway. But the heat had ensured it.
There was no mating heat with Scheme.
He should feel relieved, carefree; instead, the regret nearly choked him.
As they watched, news of the Breeds was reported. Jonas was standing in front of the offices of the Bureau of Breed Affairs, denying involvement in Scheme’s disappearance and stating the instances that the Breeds had always turned suspected Council members or collaborators over to the federal authorities once they had proof against them.
He answered the reporters in that hard, growling voice of his, a scowl on his face as Tanner chuckled.
“Jonas hates the media,” he said against Scheme’s hair, drawing in the scent of her.
“He’s not bad at handling them though,” she commented, her voice much calmer than the scent of her arousal.
“He bitches for hours after he has to hold a news conference.” He nuzzled his face into her hair, the thick sable silk stroking pleasantly against him. “Then he normally calls me and bitches at me for not handling it.”
“I didn’t hear the phone ringing,” she pointed out. “That news clip was made yesterday.”
“You were asleep.” He smiled against her hair, allowing the fingers that rested on her belly to rub against the silk of her shirt in little circles. “He threatened me, Scheme. Something about stuffing the trout I was catching up my ass.”
“You aren’t catching any trout.” Her voice was a bit breathless, husky.
Confronting Scheme with the hungers that rose between them wouldn’t work; he had found that out last night. A man had to wait until the hunger was more than she could bear. Not that she was entirely comfortable with it, he thought with a smile. His Scheme was as wary as a little cat.
She was also a damned control freak.