He lay there on his back, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling, remembering where the fuck he was, totally exposed to whatever Rosalie wanted to do to punish him for assaulting—
He blinked, shook the sleep—the nightmares—from his mind for a second, then… He turned his head to look at her. “Why are you in my room?”
He’d taken the smallest one, stripped down to his underwear and fallen asleep around midnight. Alone.
She was sitting up. Wearing sweats and a tight tank top, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders. If he wasn’t kind of pissed off at her in that moment—and shit, coming down from another memory mind-fuck—he might consider running his fingers through that hair.
“You were yelling,” she said. “In your sleep. You sounded like someone was ripping your heart out. I was trying to wake you up.”
Oh, fuck. She’d heard him…
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m surprised you came in.” He sort of half laughed, though in that moment it didn’t seem all that funny. “Isn’t ripping out my heart the very thing you’re trying to do?”
“No.”
“Only because you made a promise to your senior officer.”
“He’s not my senior officer.”
“Right. Your leader. El Presidenté.”
She didn’t say anything to that. In fact, she was way quieter than normal. Maybe he’d done more than yell. Maybe he’d said something…about combat or a mission. Or shit, his time in the lab. Well, he wasn’t getting into any of that. Not until he knew what Raphael was going to do, or offer him.
“Well, as you can see, I’m fine,” he said. “All intact.”
Her eyes ran over him. To check. Or maybe for another reason. Whatever it was, it made his gut clench, and shit below his waist fill with enough blood to be obvious.
“You can go,” he continued, not liking the idea of pitching a tent in front of her. “Back to your guard station.”
But she didn’t move. She sat there on the bed, looking all hot and sexy with her tight tank top, no bra, hair all wild and eyes that kept darting his way.
Yep, full hard-on now.
“Rosalie,” he began. “Sorry, Hunter—”
“I have nightmares, too.”
Killian stilled, not sure he’d heard her correctly. “What’s that?”
“Or I did have them…” she continued. She sighed. “They were a lot like that. Like yours. No words, just…” Her eyes lifted to meet his. “Pain.”
He stared at her, couldn’t believe she was sharing anything with him. Much less something so personal.
“I don’t know what you’re doing here, Human—” she started.
“Killian.”
“Human,” she returned. “But I know real pain when I hear it.”
Shit. What was this? He really wanted to know. Wanted to ask. But he didn’t. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t tell him anyway. “So they’re gone?” he asked. “The nightmares?”
She nodded. “When I let my cat form take over. Sleep in it twenty-four/seven.”
But Raphael hadn’t wanted her in the cat form. Said she would kill him if she was. So… Killian sat up on one elbow. “But you can’t be in your cat form when you’re around me.”
Her eyes met his. “Really?”
“Why don’t you stop this, Hunter? Let someone else guard me. Go back to what you were doing. Go back to your puma and…sleep.” His eyes roamed over her beautiful but very guarded face. “That really made the dreams stop?”
She nodded.
With a sniff of derision, Killian mumbled under his breath, “Maybe I should give it a try.”
But she heard him. “Humans can only be human, Human.”
“Yeah, you’d think, wouldn’t you?” he ground out.
Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me why you’re here.”
“Help,” he said.
“What kind? Immunity? Did you do something on the outside? Are you trying not to go back into combat? Do you know something about the military’s plans for the Pantera and our very unique and highly sought-after DNA?”
He remained silent.
Which pissed her off. Not like that was a hard thing. “You’re a soldier,” she snarled. “But you don’t know who Locke is. You’re a human, but you’re not a criminal or Raphael wouldn’t have let you—” She stopped, blinked at him. Killian could see her mind working, and it was fast and sharp. “When I came up on you and the rat in the bayou…I didn’t scent human right away. Only Pantera.”
“Is that right?” he said softly.
Her lips parted then, and she leaned in. All the way until the tip of her nose brushed his throat. Killian inhaled sharply. He didn’t know what she was pulling off him, but her scent was intoxicating. Like a rare flower, whose fragrance existed only for him. He growled at the ridiculous, romanticized, almost insane thought. But when her nose moved up to his jaw and her breath caressed his neck, he lost all brain function whatsoever. His hunger, his desire were on a level he’d never experienced before. An almost animalistic…
Fuck. No.
Slowly, she started to sniff him. His jaw, his ear, the corner of his mouth.
“What do you scent, Hunter?” he uttered in a voice he didn’t recognize.
She drew back a few inches, her eyes finding his. They were confused and anxious, and…hot. She bit her lower lip, giving his already hard cock another surge of blood, and whispered, “Pantera.”
Before he knew what he was doing, Killian’s hand stole around her head, fisting into her hair as he pulled her in for a kiss. The instant their mouths connected, he groaned. It was like having every fucking fantasy he’d ever had since puberty come to life. She was so warm, hungry, and proved the latter with her tongue when he turned his head and deepened their kiss. Christ, he’d never experienced anything so stunning. Like fireworks going off inside him. Constantly. Each one more perfect than the last.
Each one driving him insane with lust.
He fell back onto the pillow, taking her with him. And she responded instantly. Getting on top of him, straddling him, growling at him as he worked her mouth. He left her hair and plunged both hands underneath her tank top. Hot, smooth skin assaulted his unworthy hands. She groaned into his mouth and arched into his touch. The need to flip her onto her back, strip her naked, and drive his cock deep inside her was so intense, he had to fight with himself about it.
And shit, if he was going to admit it, fight with something else too…
He raked his palms up both sides of her waist, up her ribcage, until he felt the soft curve of her breasts. His chest ached to feel her pressed against him. And his cock, fuck, his cock was already leaking at the tip. Anticipation. His own personal hell. He cursed his need into her mouth as she lifted her chest just enough for him to slip his hands underneath and capture her breasts.
Shit, he was going to lose it.
And why did that “thing” inside him keep snarling the word mine over and over again? Maybe because it wanted her. All of her. Every inch. First with his hands, then his tongue—then his cock.
He kneaded her breasts, played with them as he played with her tongue and sucked it into his mouth. Rosalie held back nothing, and he loved it. She had his thigh between her legs and was dry-fucking him. No. Not dry at all. Very, very wet, even with the cotton sweats between them.
As one hand teased her nipple, Killian slipped the other under the waistband of her sweats. It wasn’t easy. She was grinding against him. So strong. Christ, he was into her strength. It was so goddamned hot.
She was so goddamned hot.
The second his hand met smooth, wet pussy, Killian was gone. On another planet. One he wanted to exist on for eternity. He slid his finger through her warm lips and found her clit swollen and ready. As he consumed her mouth, played her nipple and stroked her clit, he listened to the sounds she made against his lips. Moans of pleasure, snarls of animalistic hunger.
And he understood the language of both.
 
; Leaving his thumb to work the needy bud, Killian slipped two fingers inside her pussy. Instantly her hot, tight walls clamped around him, suckling him. Jesus…he was going to fucking come without her having even touched him.
“I feel it,” he uttered against her mouth as he started to thrust inside her. “Come for me, Rosalie.”
She froze.
Utterly and completely.
From the top of her head to her feet.
And so did Killian.
“What…” he uttered. “What’s wrong?”
She was scrambling off him before the last word was even out of his mouth.
“What the hell?” he said, sitting up. Shit, she was off the bed, her back to him. “Are you okay?”
She didn’t have to say the word no. He could feel that word radiating off her shaking body. What had he done?
“Never. Never again.” She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a look of such hate, he felt it in his marrow. “Human.”
She slammed the door when she walked out.
Leaving Killian to stare after her.
His second nightmare of the night.
Chapter 5
As the sun awoke in the sky before her, guilt and self-hatred swam in Rosalie’s blood. Not only had she let another male kiss and touch her, but he was a human. She refused to believe what she’d scented last night. He may have been infused with something to try and pass as a Pantera, but he was no true puma shifter. He was human. The very species that had taken her mate from her. Tears threatened, but she pushed them back. She didn’t deserve the sweet relief they would bring. She deserved the cold morning air assaulting her still-heated skin. She deserved exhaustion. She deserved the hard wood surface of the porch steps against her ass.
She deserved pain.
“Have you been sitting out here all night?”
She glanced up. Backlit by the early morning’s light, Raphael was coming up the walkway. He looked totally put-together in a dark-gray suit, crisp white shirt, and maroon tie. All business. As usual.
“Just doing my job, sir,” she said with a mock salute.
“And yet you didn’t scent me until I was almost on top of you,” he said, stopping at the bottom step.
She laughed. Bitterly. “You and Ashe have a nice romantic morning?” When his eyes widened slightly, she nodded. “Oh, I scented you, sir. From the second you walked out your front door.”
His gaze moved over her, assessing as he always did. “Are you all right, Rosalie?”
“Never better,” she answered with a false smile. “So, are you here for the prisoner? Am I taking him to the border and kicking his ass out of the Wildlands?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.” She shook her head, slowly. “Am I taking him to his lovely new cabin near the bayou, serving him breakfast, and welcoming him to the Wildlands as an honored guest?”
The male pushed out a breath. “What you’re going to do is go home.”
She grunted.
“Get some sleep,” he continued. “Take a shower and report to Parish at midday.”
“Fuck that,” she tossed out.
“Rosalie,” he said, his nostrils flaring as his chin lifted, “you’re pushing me. Forcing me into disciplining you.”
She snorted. “Boy, the daddy thing is really going to your head. How is little Soyala, by the way?” One brow lifted sardonically. “I imagine an excellent sleeper, by the way you smell.”
“Your anger is growing out of control.”
“You have no idea.” The words rushed from her mouth without thought. Instantly, she wished she could bite them back because Raphael’s expression changed from aggravated to worried in an instant.
“You need to see one of the Healers,” he said,
Yep. Biting them back would’ve been awesome. “I’m curious, Raphael,” she said calmly. “Would you say that to me if I was a male?” She stood up. “Or would you pat me on the back, invite me out for a drink at The Cougar’s Den, then halfway through a game of pool tell me I should get laid?”
Most males would’ve gotten immediately defensive, but Raphael was totally unaffected by her candor—or her baiting, depending on how one looked at it. “I treat grief as it should be treated, Hunter. With compassion, care, understanding, and a kick in the ass if needed. Male or female. Now.” He gave her a pointed look. “Go home.”
“The human is mine to guard,” she fought. “Until he no longer needs it.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why? It’s my job. I’m doing my job.” She sounded as though she barely believed it herself.
“And I’m doing mine,” Raphael said softly. “Go home. Lian will take over.”
“No,” came a male voice behind them. “Rosalie stays with me.”
Both Rosalie and Raphael turned to find Killian standing at the doorway. Shit, she hadn’t scented him, but she sure saw him. Hungrily, her gaze ran over his six-foot-something frame. Jeans, black tank, hard muscle, bare feet, wet hair. A rush of lust shot through her body as her mind conjured images of herself on her knees, pulling down that zipper with her teeth.
Sudden, unwanted tears pricked at her eyes with the thought, and she quickly swiped at them with her hand. She was in trouble. And the kind she’d never had to deal with before. She needed to stop fighting. Follow Raphael’s orders and go home. Shower. Sleep. Get her head on straight and never see this human again. He was screwing with her mind. Had since he’d crawled up onto the shore like a gorgeous laboratory-grown mistake.
Goddess, she needed her cat. Her heart jumped inside her chest. If she walked away from this, from him, she could walk away in her puma form. As long as she wasn’t around the human—
“You seem to think you have a say in this, Mr. O’Roarke,” Raphael returned, his tone cool.
“Maybe I do,” he said casually, but Rosalie didn’t miss the dogged set of his shoulders and jaw. “I’m about to let you dissect me, mentally and physically, and I only want two things out of it. The first you know. The second.” His gaze flickered to Rosalie. “Unless she wants out, of course.”
Rosalie felt the weight of both their stares and wanted to disappear. Behind Raphael’s intense gaze was a need to understand, and concern. Lots of concern. And behind the human’s… Attraction, challenge, curiosity.
What would she do? After last night’s idiocy, what should she do? And Goddess, what had the human asked Raphael for?
So many questions. Ones she’d have to wait to have answered. Well, she had time.
“Where do you want him?” she asked the leader of the Pantera in that all-business tone he appreciated. “And when?”
As the seconds ticked by, it seemed as though the Head Suit might continue to argue the point with her. But, for whatever reason, he held off. “Have him at the clinic in thirty minutes. Jean-Baptiste and I will meet you there.”
“Yes, sir.”
She watched him go, stride across the lawn in his oh-so-fine suit, then she headed back into the house. Killian’s scent was everywhere. In the air, the furniture…maybe even her lungs. She growled with irritation at the fact, yet followed it like a hungry cub into the kitchen. The man was seated at the table, tucked into a bowl of cereal. She went and stood over him, fuming.
“Problem, Hunter?” he asked, pouring milk onto his Lucky Charms. Typical Lian, bringing that over here. The Hunter was obsessed with that shit.
“I don’t need you coming to my rescue,” she ground out. “Human.”
He glanced up. His jaw was brushed with dark morning beard. “Is that what you thought I was doing?”
Rosalie wondered what the stubble would feel like against her tongue. Around his mouth. Biting his bottom lip. He liked that…responded to—
Fuck. Me. “Just hurry up and finish,” she growled.
He shook his head and went back to his cereal. “So I’m gathering we’re not going to talk about last night.”
She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms o
ver her chest. “You mean the nightmare?”
“Honey, I’d never call you, your kisses, or what you did to me a nightmare.” His eyes flashed with humor, and something else…
That something else made her nipples tighten.
“Eat,” she hissed.
He took an enormous bite, crunching away, then asked, “Are you starving yourself again?”
“No. I already had breakfast.”
“When?”
“Before the sun came up.”
“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” He nodded. “Yeah. I had a real hard time of it myself.” He grinned before scooping up another spoonful of cereal.
She wanted to slap that grin right off his face!
No…wait. That’s not what she wanted to do at all.
She wanted to kiss that grin right off his face. Then make him groan. Then let him make her groan…
Panic spread through her blood and she uttered a terse, “Be outside in five minutes.”
She stormed from the room and out the front door, stopping only when she hit the top of the steps. She gripped the railing. Her heart was slamming against her ribs, her mouth was dry, and she wanted to cry. Again. Fucking pussy.
Mercier… She glanced up into the powder blue sky. I’m sorry. I’ve betrayed you.
Chapter 6
“You’re going to leave me with a few pints, right?” Killian asked the technician who’d just taken his tenth blood sample of the day.
Ford—the male with black eyes and a scar down the right side of his face—replied dryly, “Try and think of it like we’re already removing our DNA from you.”
Killian sniffed. “Just feels like you’re bleeding me dry. Not exactly what I thought was going to happen.”
Jean-Baptiste, who left the three other techs on the opposite side of the room to their computer screens and DNA processing and analysis equipment, walked over to him. “What were you thinking?”
“Well, I was hoping you’d have…an antidote. Something that could go right into my bloodstream and kill whatever they injected me with.”
The massive, tatted-up doctor laughed. “Oh, if only it was that simple. We’ve got urine, saliva tests, MRI…but we’re going to need more blood. Blood tells us everything. A basic metabolic panel to reveal any diseases you might have, how the organs are functioning. And then an analysis of proteins, DNA and RNA—see what’s happening from those all-powerful injections.”