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He shook his head at the thought, as his hands clenched at his sides. He was lingering outside Cassa’s room like a damned stalker uncertain if it was time to strike.
She was his mate. He had every right to be in that room with her. To touch her. Except there were other responsibilities that came with touching, responsibilities he just didn’t know how to carry.
As he stood there staring at the door to her room, he was reminded of another young woman, who had often given him cause to think of Cassa.
Jolian. The little Jaguar Breed had been young, clumsy, uncertain with herself and her place in Sanctuary. She had also, for a brief time, been suspected of spying within the Feline Breed compound.
She’d died when the spy they had overlooked had attempted to kidnap Cabal’s sister-in-law, Scheme. She had died as she attempted to fix a misunderstanding that she feared had angered Cabal. Because she had been infatuated with him. Because she hadn’t wanted him upset with her. She had given her life to explain that to Scheme. She’d stood between Scheme and the kidnapper.
He remembered sitting next to her still, lifeless body and staring into her pale face. He’d cared for her, even though he hadn’t wanted to admit to himself that he had. Not as a mate, not really even as a lover. But he had cared for her because what came so hard to him was easy for her.
Emotions. She had cared about him, and she had gone out of her way so many times to show it. Her smiles, her attempts at laughter, even the nervous little twitter that had often been in her voice and the scent of anticipation and hopelessness that often filled the air around her.
She’d had very little respect from other Breeds, simply because of her lack of confidence. As he sat beside her that day, he’d realized she hadn’t had enough respect from him.
She had died feeling unloved, unwanted and, even worse, untrusted by the man she had thought she loved. She had let her heart, her emotions, get in the way of her training, and she had died because of it.
Now Cabal was facing the fact that something he didn’t want to admit to was getting in the way of his mission: his emotions, his hunger for Cassa, his need just to be close to her.
Yet when she had tried to curl up against him this morning, what had he done? When she had sought a bit of solace amid the tempestuousness of the mating heat, he had moved away from her, uncertain how to deal with it.
He could deal with the sex. The physical part of mating heat wasn’t a hardship. It was damned exciting and more pleasure than he’d ever had in his life. It was also causing some of the damnedest feelings to rise up inside him. Feelings he didn’t want to face and didn’t want to admit to. Heading the list was the need to hold her.
He’d run from her this morning like a fucking coward. Now he was hanging around outside her door like a worse fucking coward.
Son of a bitch.
Because the mating heat was doing something odd to him. He didn’t have the need to just fuck. Hell no, it couldn’t be that simple. Just getting his rocks off wasn’t going to be enough with this woman, as it had been with others.
He wanted to feel her. He wanted to feel her rubbing against him, her skin stroking his, her hands caressing him as he stroked and caressed her. He wanted her laughter, God help him, even her tears.
It was the strangest thing. He’d never had the desire to be close to any woman, but this woman, he wanted to sink into her flesh and be consumed by her.
She was dangerous. The animal inside him had realized that the night he escaped from that pit, lured by the scent of her fear, her rage and his own fury. He had realized it in that one instant when he saw her pale face, her agonized gray eyes, and knew that she belonged to the man who had betrayed the lives of his family.
She was dangerous because she slipped past his training as well as his determination not to care, for anyone. He cared for his brother, Tanner; he had no choice there. Tanner hadn’t allowed him a choice. He cared for Tanner’s mate, Scheme. That perhaps was instinct. She belonged to Tanner, therefore she was Cabal’s responsibility to care for.
But this woman?
He strode down the hall before turning and contemplating the closed door once again. This woman he had no ties to, he had no reason to care if she was warm, if she needed affection or needed to be held.
Yet he did care.
Clenching his teeth, his muscles bunched to move. Before he could make the trip back to her door, the cell phone at his belt vibrated imperiously.
Throttling a growl, he jerked the phone from its clip, checked the number, then flipped it open and brought it to his ear.
“What the hell do you want?” he answered.
“A few manners would go over very well tonight,” Jonas replied sarcastically. “A little discretion wouldn’t be amiss either.”
“I haven’t had witnesses in years,” Cabal snapped. “And we were taught not to spill blood in public, remember? So what the hell are you talking about?”
The silence on the line was telling. Jonas’s patience was being tested, and wasn’t that just too damned bad.
“I have pictures,” Jonas finally said, ice dripping from his voice. “A pretty little park, a pretty little mate and a Bengal Breed all over her in the front seat of his truck.”
“Pictures?” Cabal asked carefully. No one should have had pictures. He hadn’t sensed anyone watching, nor had he sensed any danger.
