When He Was Bad Page 78
Every muscle in his body seemed to harden. “I’m not some perfect human choirboy, baby—”
“No, you’re a shifter. A very strong, very dangerous shifter, and you’ve spent a large part of your life working in law enforcement.” She licked her lips. “Did you have to use deadly force, in the line of duty?”
He gave a jerky nod but didn’t speak. Because it hadn’t just been in the line of duty.
“There’s more, isn’t there?”
Why did she have to push? He’d wanted to keep that dark part of his life separate from her.
Shit. He’d tried so fucking hard. Leaving the Bureau. The monsters—men and beasts. Buying the house in the middle of damn nowhere so that the jaguar could run free in the night and even swim in the water like the cat loved to do.
Then the vampire had come hunting in his territory.
And he’d realized that leaving the city hadn’t really changed things for him.
Things would never change for him.
“Supernaturals, they tend to live in the big cities.” His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears as he walked toward the windows and pushed aside the curtains. “Easier to blend that way.”
“Were you tired of blending?”
His fingers tightened around the silky fabric. “I was tired of the dying.” The demons. The shifters. Witches. Fighting. Dying. Right alongside the humans. “Jaguars—we aren’t exactly the easiest breed to get along with. We like our space. We’re territorial.” Serious understatement. Hell. How many times had he gotten into pissing matches with cougars and coyotes? Matches that had too often turned violent.
Because that, too, was his nature.
“I can pretend to be like humans. To be just a man.” He turned to face her, because he wanted to look into her eyes and make certain she understood this. “But I’m not, and if you go around thinking I’m a man who can turn into a beast, well, you’ll be wrong. At heart, what I am is a beast . . . who just happens to be able to turn into a man.”
A beast who’d made his first kill when he was eighteen. When the bastard with a gun had broken into his home and threatened his mother because he knew what she was. When the gun had pointed at his mother, and the asshole’s finger had tightened around that trigger, he’d attacked.
And he’d never regretted his actions.
Cautiously, Cain walked toward Miranda, watching for any signs of fear or disgust. She’d given him her beautiful body, let him taste heaven, and he was very much afraid she was going to turn from him.
“I’ve killed in the line of duty, yeah. But I’ve also killed as a civilian. I’ve tracked beings you don’t even want to know about. I took them out, because I was the only one who could.” Again, no regrets.
What point was there in regretting? There was no way to change the past.
He stoppedinches away from her. Wished that he could read the emotions behind her solemn stare. “Maybe I should have told you this from the beginning.” After her attack. When she’d realized the world didn’t work quite the way she’d thought. “But I’m a greedy bastard, Miranda, and I wanted you and—” Hell. He wouldn’t say the rest. Wouldn’t say that he’d been afraid she’d turn from him in disgust. It had happened before. Right after he’d graduated from college.
He’d told his human girlfriend the truth about his existence. The relationship had been getting serious, and he’d thought she deserved to know just who her lover really was.
Even now, he could still see the disgust on her face.
No regrets. The mantra slid through his mind once more. That was the way he lived his life.
He drew in a hard breath, caught her heady scent, and repeated, “I wanted you.”
“And I want you.”
Want, not wanted. His heart raced as hope raised its stubborn head.
Her hands reached for him. “I told you before, Cain, I’m not afraid of you. Not of what you are, and not of the creature you become.”
Okay. Sandy had been running from him by this point.
Miranda didn’t look like she was planning to go anywhere.
But looks could be deceiving. Hell, he knew that better than just about anyone.
His fingers caught hers. Tightened. “We’re one and the same, baby. You’ve got to understand that—”
“I do.”
He’d just told her that he was a cold-blooded killer. Why did she still look at him like—like—
Like he was a good man.
Oh, damn.
At that moment, he knew he’d just lost a battle he hadn’t even realized he’d been fighting.
Miranda.
No fear.
Want.
Need.
His.
Cain swallowed back the lump that rose in his throat. “I need to be with you.” Truer words he’d never spoken. And he didn’t mean just for the night.
Forever.
Her lips curved in a smile. “Then what are you waiting for, lover? We’ve got a bed, a room, and all night long.”
He felt it then. A strange warmth in his chest. Something he hadn’t really felt in so long that it took him by surprise.
Happiness.
His lips lifted as he stared down at her. “That’s just the answer I was hoping for.” Then he took her mouth with his and tasted the honeysuckle on his tongue.
Cain pushed her back onto the bed, his cock already swollen with hunger.
When he’d walked into that feeding room and he’d seen the vamps sizing Miranda up like she was some kind of dream meal, a flash of possessive rage had burned through him. Then when those two blond jerks had cornered her, it had been all he could do not to unleash his anger.
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