“How terrible.” And she meant it. If a family felt there was no justice in a killing, how did they go on? “That still doesn’t explain someone as evil as Imelda Cortez and why you would choose to reveal your species to her.”

He stepped back to allow her to proceed him through the door into the next room. “Cortez offered me a living and I took her up on it. Eventually I knew I’d kill her, so what the hell difference does it make what she knows? She can’t prove it and if she tells anyone, they’ll think she’s insane—which she is. I can smell it on her.”

She swallowed fear. He said it so casually. Eventually I knew I’d kill her. “Is that what you’re going to do to me eventually? Kill me when you get tired of me?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.” He caught her wrist, jerking her around, forcing her palm to circle the hard length of him, his fingers fisting tight around hers. “You put this there. I go to bed like this and get up like this. It isn’t going to go away until we’re together. And I imagine it will be back often, every bit as painful.”

She stomped as hard as she could on his instep and spun, slamming her elbow into his ribs, continuing around as he freed her hand, aiming a back-fist at his face. He was already on her, taking her to the floor, dropping hard so that she slammed into the wood, cracking her head, his superior weight on top of her. She saw stars, and had to fight to keep from passing out. Struggling wildly, she tried to throw him off. He drove a knee into the small of her back and pinned her wrists together, his strength enormous. She lay crushed beneath him, tears burning in her eyes and throat.

“You don’t know much about men, do you, Isabeau,” he said softly. “Some men get turned on by a woman fighting him. Lie quietly. Just take a breath. I said I wouldn’t hurt you if possible, and I meant it.”

She let herself weep for a moment before making an effort to pull herself back together. His free hand stroked her hair as if soothing her. When the tension drained out of her, he got off her and pulled her to her feet, forcing her across the room to the same chair. Once she was seated in the chair, he put both hands on the arms of the chair and bent his face close to hers.

She gathered herself. Head-butting might work. Or punching him hard right in the middle of that very large erection.

His eyes met hers and he shook his head slowly. “The first time, I let it go because you’re frightened of me. But you attack me again and I’ll retaliate.”