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Before Cara, he’d been satisfied with what he had, with the cards he’d been dealt, but she made him want more and that wasn’t exactly safe in his world.

What was she doing to him?

Cara’s door opened and closed. Quietly. She didn’t want him to hear as so often when she crept through the house. But if his life had taught him anything, it was vigilance. There wasn’t a sound that got past his hearing. Her steps were careful and then they stopped and another door opened and closed. Growl took another gulp of water and was about to put it back into the fridge and go to bed, but then the shower sprang to life. She was taking a shower. He never showered right after sex. He liked the smell of it, and the sticky feeling. He liked being reminded of what he’d done. But women always like things clean, at least women like Cara. The whores he usually dealt with, they showered too, of course, but that was for practical reasons. They couldn’t go walking around stinking of their last john when their next client came along.

Growl tensed. Another sound disturbed the monotone sloshing of water. Sobbing. He pushed away from the kitchen counter and stalked into the corridor and stopped in front of the bathroom door. The sobbing was a low sound, meant to be drowned out by the shower. It wasn’t meant for him. Cara was crying.

Growl reached for the door handle, his fingers clutching the cold metal until his bones ached from the pressure. He let go and stepped back. Why was she crying?

Anger surged through him, burning hotter than his lust. He turned on his heel and stalked away from the sound of her tears and didn’t stop until he was outside on the porch. Both dogs had followed after him and now watched him with curious eyes.

Growl curled his hands to fists and stared up at the night sky. He’d never found the sight calming or even inspiring. For Growl it had always looked too vast, too uncertain. Something he couldn’t control or comprehend, not even begin to.

Cara, she, too, was like the night sky. As beautiful, there was no doubt about it.

He could control her, at least physically, but what went on behind that perfect face, that was completely out of his grasp. Her brain worked in ways his would never be able to. He liked things simple. Uncomplicated. She was anything but. Comprehending her, that he would never.

His eyes found the door. If he went inside now, would she still be crying? “Fuck,” he growled and kicked the ground. Both Coco and Bandit jumped back and eyed him warily. Anger was something he was familiar with, something he even found consoling. But tonight it didn’t make him feel better. He was angry at her but he couldn’t unleash his fury on her. No, he could, but he didn’t want to. And that made things worse.

She’d enjoyed herself. He’d seen her enjoy herself. Her body had responded to him. She’d moaned, had given herself over to pleasure. And now she was crying.

He was angry at himself, too. He shouldn’t give a shit about her feelings. He’d heard people cry before, had heard them beg and scream in terror. What was one woman crying? Nothing. But it didn’t lessen his anger. He kicked the ground again. Coco hid behind the chairs and Bandit backed even farther away from him.

He got down to his knees and made a soothing noise. His dogs had never been afraid of him. After a moment of hesitation, first Coco and then Bandit came toward him and pressed up to his body. He patted them for a long time, and finally some of the fire beneath his skin faded. That’s why he preferred the company of dogs. They weren’t complicated. They showed you what they were feeling.

He stood and returned into the house. He wouldn’t let anything or anyone drive him out of his own home. Coco and Bandit followed him closely. Growl closed the terrace door, then listened. The shower wasn’t running anymore. He waited another moment but it was silent. No sobbing, no nothing. Coco left his side and trotted toward Cara’s door, sniffing before she sat down. Growl sighed. Especially Coco had taken to Cara, but even Bandit who never liked anyone, seemed to enjoy the woman’s presence.

Growl strode toward Coco and listened even more closely, but silence reigned behind the door. He grabbed the handle, and before he could stop himself, he pushed it down and opened the door. His eyes found the bed where Cara lay curled up, her legs pressed against her chest. Her face was turned away from him, and when he was honest with himself, he was thankful for that fact. He didn’t want to see her tearstained face. Her breathing was even, and she hadn’t tensed when light had spilled in. She was truly asleep.

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