She hesitated, but he didn’t release her. He couldn’t have even if he wanted to. Once he had her close to him, he didn’t want to give that up. Such close proximity had his leopard rolling around amorously. The crazy cat stretched and unsheathed claws but only to try to push Alonzo to stake his claim legitimately. Impossible in her shop, but he knew soon he would have no choice, not the way his leopard was acting and not the way his body, heart and soul responded to her.

Evangeline slipped into the chair beside him. “I thought we’d agreed this was a bad idea. Was I reading you wrong?”

He kept possession of her wrist, looking down at her hands. She didn’t wear paint on her nails. They were cut short and very clean, but completely bare. Her hands were small, but they’d seen work. His heart tripped a little looking at them. No rings. No sign there had ever been a ring, but then she was young. No more than twenty or twenty-one. Young to own a shop.

“You weren’t wrong.” It came out clipped. Frozen. He didn’t know how to be any different than he was so he didn’t try to be.

She tried to get her hand back, tugging. He didn’t have to tighten his hold, she wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m not a good man.” Hell. He wasn’t even a man. How did he say that to her? My life is killing. It doesn’t matter what form I take, human or leopard; that’s who I am. Not what; who. He’d been born into a lair of killers. Of vicious, cruel, cunning killers. He’d been bred for that purpose deliberately. Raised to be what his father and the lair needed. Even in the brotherhood, his family was feared above all others.

“I get that.”

He didn’t want her to get it or agree with him. He wanted a protest. She didn’t give him one, but she didn’t stare at the table like most women would have. She didn’t cry or look sad. She looked him right in the eye. His Evangeline. His woman. She was quiet and accepting. She didn’t even look as if she blamed him.