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Strangely, it wasn’t misery that the house reeked of, it was anger. Hot, brilliant, and definitely female.

He moved up the stairs, slid into the hallway, and approached her closed door. Beyond that door lay ecstasy. The bed he had shared with his mate, the scent of their passion, the knowledge, complete and overwhelming, that this woman belonged to him, no matter the evidence to the contrary.

This insanity where she thought she could save the world and those hapless males drawn to trouble because of their own stupidity was going to have to stop though.

He clenched his teeth as the scent of anger grew sharper here, firing the hormone-laced adrenaline, pounding in his head with a primal urge to show her, to enforce his dominance over her. To ensure this never happened again.

Never, ever, would she take another’s side against him. If he felt blood needed to be shed, then he would shed it. He didn’t need her standing between him and danger or between him and his own conscience.

She had no idea the blood he had already shed in his fight to survive. Standing between him and one weak-kneed, paranoid little son of a bitch wasn’t going to make a difference, and she needed to learn that right quick.

He gripped the doorknob, pushed the door open, and with a quick widening of his eyes ducked to avoid whatever heavy object was sailing through the air toward his head.

“Dammit, Natalie!” He ducked again and quickly sidestepped another projectile. Some kind of white ceramic creature he guessed as it shattered against the doorframe as the door slammed closed. “That’s enough.”

“I’ll show you enough!” The bedside clock flew at his head and struck his shoulder with a resounding whack. The pain was minimal, but he didn’t have to give her a chance to perfect her aim. He jumped for her.

She was fast, but she wasn’t fast enough. Hooking his arm around her waist, he tossed her to the bed, coming down on her quickly. He straddled her thighs, gripped her wrists in one hand, and held her securely to the bed.

The short robe she wore had worked to her thighs, the loosely belted front slipped open, revealing hard little nipples and swollen, flushed breasts.

The pert mounds bounced as she struggled against him and had his cock straining against his zipper, desperate to be free. The scent of anger and desire filled the room. The heat of it flushed her cheeks and made her eyes darker.

And the scent of pain. It was carefully masked beneath the anger, but he could smell her hurt, sense it in the air around them.

“You dirty bastard, get off me,” she screamed. “Get off me, and get out of my house. Go back to wherever the hell you came from. I don’t want you here.”

Those were tears glittering in her eyes, the damp sheen making her eyes more luminous, darker, sweeter than ever.

Leaning toward her, he let the low, warning rumble in his chest free. The rough, primal sound only had her eyes narrowing, her face flushing deeper.

“That growling thing is not working on me,” she snapped. “You left. You left me with Breeds that wouldn’t even speak to me. But even worse, moron, you left me hurting!”

He had a feeling she wasn’t talking about arousal or mating heat.

“And how, mate, did I leave you hurting?” He snarled. “By not trusting you? By deceiving you and placing my life deliberately in danger? Deliberately choosing another over my mate! Did I do this?”

“What you did was so much worse,” she panted, her voice rasping. “You left me, Saban. You left when you swore you would never leave me.” A single tear caressed her cheek. “You lied to me.”

Yes, he had. He wiped the tear from her cheek with his thumb, feeling the guilt that rode inside him.

“I came back.” He wasn’t going to be swayed by tear-filled eyes.

“At three o’clock in the morning,” she sneered.

Saban almost smiled. She sounded like a wife, and the knowledge filled him with a sense of excitement rather than anger. She could keep a time card on him whenever she pleased.

“Why did you go to him?” He asked the question, hating himself for it, hating the anger that filled him because of it. “I nearly lost you, Natalie. I would have lost my soul if anything had happened to you. Why? Why would you fucking take that risk? Is he so important to you?”

“You’re that important to me.” She jerked, raising her head until they were nearly nose to nose,

flames flickering in her dark eyes. “I wanted him gone. I wanted him to leave, and I didn’t want you to have to kill him to achieve it.”

Saban shook his head in confusion. The way this woman’s mind worked, he would never figure her out.

“What made you think you could make him leave? Even if the Council soldiers hadn’t been involved, Natalie. What in God’s name made you think he would listen to you?”

She breathed out heavily and glared back at him.

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