“Did he mark you? Did you see his leopard? Did he bite you or rake you with his claws?”

She sat up fast, swinging both fists together at his face, slamming into his jaw, snapping his head back. One hand disengaged her seat belt while the other dropped to the truck door and yanked, trying to open it. He’d been smart enough to engage the locks and that second cost her. He gripped her hair in his fist and yanked her hard back to him, so that she fell sideways, her body sprawling across his, her head facedown in his lap.

She cried out and both hands went to his. He didn’t loosen his grip, but he did quit pulling so hard. “Are you serious right now, Cat?” he spat out.

He was fairly certain from her reaction that no one had ever manhandled her before, not like this, and he could see the shock on her face. Fear edging in. Good. He was finally getting to her. He’d take fear over . . . nothing. “I’m bigger and stronger. I know your every move.” He was secretly proud of her for getting out of the handcuffs. He saw the broken pen on the floor mat.

She went very still, her blue eyes searching his face. He detested the bruise on her cheek. He really hated the bruises circling her wrists. He loosened his grip on her hair, his fingers sliding deeper, massaging her scalp, trying to ease the pain he’d caused when he’d yanked her across the truck to him.

She didn’t move. She hardly breathed. She just stared at him like he was a total stranger, not the man who had given her that all important first kiss. The one he could still taste in his mouth.

“Kitten,” he said softly.

That got a rise out of her. Her eyes had held just a hint of fear, pushing that blank, dead look—distant. The moment he’d uttered his chosen endearment for her, the name he called her when he was soft inside and wanted to pull her close and hold her forever, the look went from nearly blank to pure fury.

He felt her cat rise and his cat rose to meet hers, clawing and raking at his belly for freedom. He saw the telltale shine in her eyes, felt her body heat. His reacted, going hard, the male cat in him rising to the challenge of a female refusing to submit.

She gasped and pressed both hands to her stomach, dropping her head to breathe deep. He knew what she was doing and why. Catarina Benoit was terrified of her leopard. She was petrified. She didn’t want that gift and she was doing everything in her power to keep it at bay.

Eli smoothed his hand over her hair and helped her to sit up, all the while breathing his leopard back under control.