“I’ll never forget,” he returned. “How could I? Maybe I want to give Claire the chance Mom never had.”

“Right.” She snorted, her gaze cynical. Her gaze turned on Claire then, and the full blast of venom there could be felt as keenly as a slap to the face. “Claire. Since when do you care about anything or anyone except killing a lycan?”

Shaking her head fiercely, she stormed out of the room. Her feet pounded down the stairs. A door slammed, the sound reverberating through the old house’s thick walls.

They sat side by side for several moments, tension humming thickly on the air.

Claire turned to look at him and her mouth watered at the sight of his lean, sinewy chest. The morning light streaming through the window only highlighted the perfection of his body. She thought only movie stars had bodies like that. No man she knew did. Brian had been pasty and pale, with legs and arms skinnier than hers. Gideon’s arms were tanned bands of muscle.

Averting her eyes, she murmured, “That didn’t go over well, did it?”

He dragged a hand through his shaggy, sun-kissed locks. “Not too bad actually. She didn’t go for my gun and try to shoot you herself. Guess we’re lucky it wasn’t Cooper again this morning,” he grumbled.

Claire could only nod, finding little positive about the encounter. Kit had seen only a monster when she looked at her. A monster that needed destroying. “Will she tell Cooper?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he considered her question. “Kit’s loyal. And Cooper pisses her off. Has ever since she was a kid. We lost our father and Kit didn’t want him for a substitute. Resented what she thought was him trying.”

“That’s enough to keep her from running to him? She was pretty upset.”

“Yeah. And Kit has always wanted to be an agent, but Coop won’t consider it. Another reason she resents him.”

“Maybe she’ll decide to take me out herself, then.”

“I can handle Kit.” He patted her knee through the thin sheets.

The touch did anything but reassure her. Her skin sizzled from the contact. He must have realized what he had done because his hand stilled, molding to the curve of her knee. Her breath caught, trapped in her chest as their eyes locked. Last night flooded back. And with it came the hunger.

His pale green eyes deepened to a darker shade, reminding her of a forest after rain. Her skin grew warm where his hand rested.

His fingers flexed over her knee. “We really should get up.”

She slid down on the bed. He came over her, the smooth expanse of muscled chest irresistible to her hands. Her fingers rounded over his firm shoulders, curling around the bulge of his biceps. He moved his hand from her knee and up over her thigh.