Page 62 of Brandon’s Mate

He sat down heavily on the porch sofa. She hadn’t left. But where was she?

He scanned the yard over and over, scented the wind. Maybe she’d just gone for a run. Or maybe she’d gone looking for him, and she’d run into trouble.

Or maybe she’d just had enough of his shit.

It seemed like an eternity, but it was probably only a few minutes before he heard her coming. No, he felt her, before he could hear her. Coming down the hill through the woods, from the direction of the Hermit’s house.

He knew then that she’d followed him. Hell, that’s what he would have done in her place.

He waited for her on the porch. He was going to have to come clean now—as much as he could. She’d never been good at taking ‘no’ for an answer, and he knew she was more than done with being kept in the dark.

The ghosts drifted out of the woods, following Kitty. Brandon refused to look at them. Only her.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded, gazing up at him.

“So that’s what you do every night? Get out of bed with me and go fight Sasquatch?”

He nodded.

“Because?”

“Why the fuck do you think?” he asked wearily. “My cat doesn’t just need to fight. He needs to dominate. He’s on the edge all the damn time. Nothing helps for long.”

That hurt her. Her face didn’t show it, but he could feel it inside her. He was starting to feel all her emotions, just like he used to.

She said, “I thought maybe—if we were together—that would settle him some.”

He heaved a sigh. “I hoped so too,” he said quietly. He made himself look at her, made himself not push away what she was feeling, even though knowing he was hurting her ripped him apart. “You don’t know how bad I wanted that.”

Her face softened, and she climbed up the steps and sat down next to him. He hunched over wearily, elbows on his knees, and she laid her hand in the middle of his back.

Just her touch warmed him all the way through. But his panther wouldn’t settle. Why the fuck wouldn’t he just settle? What the fuck did he want?

“Maybe you need more than one person,” she said. “Maybe you need a crew.”

“I tried that,” he said. “It didn’t work out.”

This was the part that he’d never intended to tell her. But maybe she should know. Maybe then she’d understand, and she wouldn’t hate him.

Except he’d rather have her hate him than lose her respect.

She waited, her hand making small circles, trying to soothe him.

He pulled her into his arms, her head snuggled into the crook of his neck. If he was going to say this, he didn’t want to watch her face.

“There was this job in New Mexico,” he began. “For the Agency—a crew of rogue lions that needed to be put down. They’d wiped out most of a small panther crew. All the women and half the men, including the alpha and the Second. By the time we cleared them out there were only three panthers left, and they were—”

He shook his head. “They were pretty far gone, and none of them were strong enough or stable enough to pull the rest of them back together.”

“So you did.” She sounded like it was only what she would have expected of him. Like she took it for granted he’d step up, do the right thing.

He wished he was the man she thought he was.

He nodded. “I’d been thinking about leaving the Agency. For a while the adrenalin of working undercover kept my cat sane, but I always dreamed of having my own crew. I thought this was it. Nick had worked the job with me, and I talked him into coming in with me. He was my Second.”

She put her hand on his chest, over his heart. “So he was more than just a colleague, or a friend.”

“Yeah.” It took a lot for him to push the words out. He’d never talked about it to anyone.