Her mouth trembled. Her hands. And then her body. She ducked her head and tears fell on the backs of his hands where he gripped hers so hard. “Tell me what you want,” her voice barely a thread of sound as she capitulated, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She was lost and she knew it. “To get those children back. Tell me what you want, how to do it.”

His grip eased on her hands until she could slide them away. She rubbed her palms up and down her jean-clad thighs as if she could rid herself of the urge to rip and tear at him—or touch him.

“Keep doing that, as if it’s going to help you,” he said. “It isn’t going to stop the itch, little cat, and we both know it. You need scratching, you have one place to come. One, do you understand me?”

“I’d rather die.”

“I don’t care. You want me to get those children out, I’ll do it, but you don’t go near any other man.”

“You can’t dictate that to me.”

“You persist in thinking in human terms, Isabeau,” he said. He stepped close again, inhaling her scent, forcing her to inhale his. “I have news for you. I’m not human and neither are you. You’re in the rain forest, and here, we have a whole different set of laws. Higher laws. You’re close to heat, close to the Han Vol Dan, the first emergence of your cat. Her first need is your first need. No one touches you but your mate. And whether you like it or not, that would be me.”

“You’re crazy.” She jerked back away from him. “I’m human.”

He touched his face, drawing her attention to the scars there. Her brand. “You did this with your claws, little cat.”

She closed her eyes tight for a brief moment but not before he caught a glimpse of pain, of confusion and guilt. She shook her head in denial, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “How could I possibly do that to you?”