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“I can’t!” He didn’t understand!
“You can. You will do it because it’s what I require of you.”
Arrogant pumpernickel! Anger filled her, pushing away the fear and panic.
He raised his eyebrows. “If looks could kill . . . I guess that’s one way to push aside the panic. Another deep breath in. Now out.”
“I don’t have time for this!”
“Yes, you do. Because until I’m assured that you’re breathing properly, we’re not moving.”
“Do you ever stop giving orders?”
“No.”
“Do we need to crack a window?” she asked.
He raised his eyebrows.
“I was just thinking that maybe it’s hard to breathe with your ego taking up the entire room.”
“Oh, Pequeña. You’ll pay for that later.”
Uh-oh.
“I think someone needs some corner time to learn not to get too sassy with their Dom.”
“You’re not my Dom, though.”
The words sat between them.
Wrong and twisted.
She wanted to take them back. Desperately. Wanted for them not to be true.
“Aren’t I? While you’re my responsibility, I could be that and more.”
Her heart skipped a beat as heat filled his eyes. Was he talking about sex? Shoot. She wanted to sink into his gaze. To give this man whatever he wanted.
“What if I don’t want that?”
She braced herself for his anger. The Deity and his Sentinels had ensured that all the women at the cult knew they were supposed to give them whatever they wanted.
And if they didn’t, then they’d be punished. Depending on which Sentinel caught you, it could be a slap on the face. Or being confined to your room for a day. Or being brought before the whole cult to be shamed.
But she could take it. Whatever he wanted to do to her. He raised his hand and she flinched back. He was much bigger and stronger.
He could hit her.
But she’d find a way to get her revenge.
However, Alejandro didn’t hit her. Instead, his eyes widened, and there was a hint of distress, before his eyes grew dark.
“You thought I was going to hit you,” he said in a low voice. “Cat . . .”
“If you’re going to do it, could you just get on with it? I can survive a few knocks, but the waiting might kill me.” She kept her voice blank. Devoid of all emotion. She didn’t want him to know that this would hurt her.
And she wasn’t talking about physical pain.
He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck. She tried to move, but he tightened his hold. It wasn’t painful, though. His hand was warm and steady.
The same as his voice. His face.
But his eyes. They were filled with fury.
Her breath stuttered.
“Someone hit you? Who?”
It took a moment for the words to penetrate. Then she stared up at Alejandro in confusion, realizing he wasn’t upset with her.
No, he was angry for her sake.
“Who?” he pressed.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter, mi Preciosa.”
“Why?” she asked. She felt numb. This was all too much for her to handle.
“Because I’m going to kill the bastard for laying a hand on you.”
This shouldn’t be such a shock. Look at what he’d done to Vince.
Because he’d hurt her.
Yet, she was still shocked that he felt this way.
“You can’t keep killing everyone who hurts me.”
“Just watch me.”
She wanted to shrug it off as posturing. But this was Alejandro De Leon. He could do whatever he wanted.
Well, except for one thing . . .
“You can’t kill them.”
“Them?” he growled. Yep, there was the dragon again. He wasn’t always there. Sometimes he was a jaguar. Calculating. Watching. But this was her protective dragon.
Maybe she needed more sleep. She was going a bit crazy.
She licked her dry lips. “Y-yes.”
“Names.” It seemed he couldn’t speak in anything more than one word sentences right now.
“You can’t kill them because they’re already dead.”
He blinked. Some calm returned to his face. Thank God they were dead, she didn’t want him going off and doing something that might get him in trouble.
Not over her.
She wasn’t worth it.
“You’re sure?”
“Uh-huh. I have it on good authority.”
“Whose authority?” he demanded. Ahh, the arrogance was coming back.
“The FBIs,” she said without thinking. Where were Snuggly and Roger?
His hand dropped and he drew back from her. But she was too busy trying to figure out what had happened to the loose floorboard to pay him much attention.
“The FBI? What do you have to do with the FBI?”
“Nothing. Not for years. I send Stubby a card with a dollar bill in it each year for Christmas because he once tried to send me out of the room to get a chocolate bar with a dollar. Jerkwad.”
“Stubby?”
“Agent Stubbs.” Suddenly, she realized what she was saying and stared up at him watchfully. If anyone had a reason to be wary of the FBI, it was this man.
“Agent Stubbs of the FBI,” he said.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“You’re friends with him?”
“No. He just . . . I knew him a long time ago, and I like to keep messing with him. But we’re not friends and I don’t have anything to do with him anymore.”
