"Like I said, it doesn't suit you." He navigated the vehicle down a different forest track from the one they had used to arrive at his lair. "How're you feeling?"
"I thought you didn't like to talk about feelings."
He bared his teeth at her.
She smiled, happy now that she'd gotten under his skin. "I'm fine. I tend to bounce back pretty fast after an episode." It had been either that or give up on life. And though she might not have cherished her body as she should have, she cherished the life Clay had fought to give her. If he hadn't killed Orrin, the other man would have used her in the most brutal fashion, then buried her in the same graveyard as his other "brides."
"Talin?"
She came back from the memories with a shiver. "Sorry, woolgathering. Thank you for taking me out last night. It really helped." She'd never known there was so much life in the night, so much beauty.
"That's not what you were thinking about before. It was the junkyard, wasn't it?"
She didn't have to ask how he knew. "It's our nightmare, isn't it?" No one else could hope to understand. "After they found the bodies, I used to think about how we played there. On top of their graves."
"Yeah." His voice was matter-of-fact. "But you brought something good into that junkyard. Maybe they felt it. Maybe it helped them rest in peace."
It was the last thing she would have expected him to say. "I never thought of it that way. Do you really think that?"
"Why not?"
Yes, she thought, why not? "Did they ever identify all the bodies?" Pa Larkspur had banned her from following the case after she began to get obsessive about it. He'd been right - much longer and she would have fallen back into the abyss.
"Yes." Clay's hands tightened on the wheel. "They were all DNA-banked at birth."
"I'm glad. I visited two of their graves," she confessed.
"So did I." His tone hardened. "After I was told you were dead."
The tension between them went from bearable to cutting. "I thought we'd gone past that." Had last night meant nothing to him? "How many times do you want me to apologize?" Her guilt was crushing.
"I don't want apologies. I never did." He swung out onto a relatively clear track. That wasn't saying much - trees stood tall and thick on either side, blocking them in a tunnel of dark green. "I want an explanation."
"I told you," she said between gritted teeth. "I wasn't in a good place. I needed some space. You're so bossy, you take over everything and I needed to be my own person."
He threw her another look. "There might be some truth in that, but it's not everything. Why, Tally? Why tell me you were dead?"
"Clay - "
"Why?"
"I don't want to - "
"Why?"
"Because you left me!" she screamed, driven to the brink. "You left me!"
Clay brought the Tank to a rocking halt, his brain stunned into silence.
"You promised you'd be there for me always," she whispered, hugging herself. "Then you left." She shook her head and swallowed. "I know you had no choice. You were arrested. But it didn't matter. You were the only person I ever trusted, do you know that, Clay? The only one. Then you were gone and I was alone with strangers again. I was so mad at you!"
All this time, he had believed she hated him for killing Orrin the way he had, hated the violence of what he was. "I let you down," he said, accepting her charge.
"Don't," she whispered. "Don't be so nice. It makes me feel even worse."
"'Nice' is not a word that applies to me." He let the leopard color his voice. "So you were angry as hell with me - why not just tell me to get lost? Why go so far?"
"Don't ask me that." She looked out the window.
He reached across and clasped his hand on the back of her neck. "Look at me."
"No."
"Tally, now is not the time to piss me off."
"You can take your orders and shov - "
Biting back a growl, he shifted across the bench seat to block her in the corner, his free arm braced palm down beside her head. "Would you like to repeat what you just said?"
Big Tally-colored eyes looked up at him. No one else had eyes like hers. Out in the sunlight, the rings of amber almost seemed to disappear but here in the dark of the forest, they glowed hot.
"I was insulting you," she said, echoes of the girl he'd known sparking in those fire and dawn eyes. "And doing it rather well if I made you lose control."
He could smell her fear, but she hadn't budged. "Why fear me? You know I would never put a bruise on your body." He paused, decided to trust the strength of will in that small body, and pushed. "Well, I might in one situation."
"What?" She blinked. "You'd never hurt me."
"I didn't say I would. I said I might bruise you." He leaned in and nipped at that soft, luscious mouth of hers, drawing back before she could do more than suck in a shocked breath. "I might bite during sex." No rejection in her scent. His gut unclenched. It had been a risk, founded on their fragile new bond of trust and his leopard's clawing need.
"I am not having sex with you." Her voice was breathy. "Nuh-uh. Not ever."
"Why not?" He wanted to bite her again. "What's wrong with me?"
"I don't like dark men."
That halted him for a second. Until he picked up the deceit in the air. "Lying is a sin, Tally darling." His leopard relaxed, soothed by the realization of her susceptibility to him.
"You're conceited, pushy, and you scowl too much."
He tightened his hand on her nape, just a little. Then he bent his head and licked the full curve of her lower lip. She shivered and pushed at his chest. "No licking. Definitely no licking."
"Why not?" He was almost sure he saw flames racing in the ring of amber around her irises. "I'm a cat. I like licking - all sorts of places."
Her cheeks blazed. "You don't want me that way."
"What way?
"Sexually." It seemed as if she had to force the words out. "You hate me for what I did with those other men, remember?"
Both man and cat continued to wrestle with the sharp edge of jealous rage, but..."How can I hate you after what you told me last night? I'm learning to deal."
Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. "Yeah, right."
"Hey." He leaned closer, until all he could scent was her. "I'm trying. You could be a bit more encouraging."
"Why?" Her lips pressed down into a harsh line. "So you can play at being the all-forgiving leopard and I can abase myself at your feet? Don't tell me you're a virgin!"
"I've about had it with you," he threatened, such a feeling of life shooting through him that he was drunk on it. Fighting with Tally was more fun than doing anything else with any other woman. "It has nothing to do with the sex."
"Uh-huh."
"You hurt yourself, Tally. You fucking did to yourself what - " He bit off his words, refusing to bring Orrin back from the grave. "That's what makes me really mad. And yeah, maybe I'm too possessive with you, but fuck that. You were ready to claw out Faith's eyes over some flowers."
She sat silent, mutinous.
"I figure we're even in the forgiveness stakes."
A narrow-eyed glance. "How's that?"
"I'll try to handle you being with other men that way, and you try to forgive me for not saving you from Orrin all those years ago when he hurt you."
Silence in the car. So deep. So painful.
"How did you know?" she whispered, such naked vulnerability on her face that his leopard shuddered under the blow. "I didn't even know until you said it."
"Because I can't forgive myself either." He kissed her and it was soft, a whisper. "I'm sorry, Tally. I'm sorry."
Talin's heart broke into a thousand pieces. With a jerk, she wrapped her arms around the big body of this man she adored beyond reason. Her fingers dug into his back and she buried her face against his chest, able to hear the powerful beat of his heart under her ear. "I never blamed you," she whispered. "Not consciously."
He leaned back against the seat, taking her with him until she was almost on his lap. "You have every right to blame me."
"No, Clay. We were children."
"Speak the truth now, baby. Only I and the forest will hear you."
She didn't answer for long minutes, letting the hush of the trees settle around them. So many years, she'd kept that knot of anger and pain inside of her, letting it fester, sharing it with no one. And all that time she'd been telling herself that she was doing fine, that she'd make it. But how could she?
"I called your name," she whispered, ripping open a wound so painful, it had never before seen the light of day. "When it started, I didn't have anyone to cry out for. But the first time it happened after we met, I called your name."
Clay's arms squeezed, threatening to cut off her breath but she didn't complain.
"Maybe I blamed you," she admitted, bleeding inside, knowing how much her words had to cut him. "But it wasn't anything so simple. You were the most important thing in my life. I wanted to protect you, too. That's why I never told you the truth." So many layers, so many hurts. "And you blame me for my silence."
"Not for what happened, Tally. Never that."
But she knew he did blame her for stripping from him his chance to help her. "I would still make the same choice." This moment, this instant, it was about honesty. "Orrin would have killed you if I'd told and you'd come after him. You were too young when we met." Nine years old and mostly skin and bone, as if he couldn't eat enough to keep up with his growing body. Not to say he hadn't been tough - but Orrin had been a killer.
