Cat's Lair

by Christine Feehan

  She'd taught herself to read. She'd learned how to make coffee. Not just make coffee, but became a leading barista, someone who was great at what she did. She was quiet, and she downplayed her looks. She listened. Really listened when others were talking. She looked so young. She'd learned to play to that too. Only when her body betrayed her with its lush curves was it necessary for her to run.

  He swore under his breath. He'd been such a fool. They all had. Sweet little Catarina Benoit was not just sweet, fragile and uneducated, she was extremely intelligent. Off the charts intelligent. She probably knew more about Cordeau's business than Cordeau. She'd been there, a fixture in his household, one he intended to keep, a beautiful trophy he intended to mold into his likeness.

  Catarina had been Cordeau's chosen mate. She'd been a sponge in Cordeau's house, soaking up everything she heard, learning as much as she could. She'd learned sex education by listening to two of Cordeau's crew's girlfriends talking. If there'd been a wall close Eli would have been tempted to smash his head on it. He'd been so obtuse, buying into the image she projected.

  He tightened his arm around her, not knowing whether he wanted to shake her, or kiss her. She was damned brilliant. But if he was right and Catarina did know everything there was to know about Cordeau's business, that meant she knew everyone he was in bed with. His partners wouldn't like that. They wouldn't want anyone running around loose out of their control.

  Eli understood the million-dollar price tag. This wasn't all about getting Catarina back, it was also about protecting her. She wasn't where Cordeau could keep her from his partners and he was letting them know she was still under his shield.

  Elijah nodded his head. "Yes, my uncle needed some kind of leverage against Cordeau. Cordeau didn't have any weaknesses."

  "With the exception of Catarina," Eli said. "She was the one thing that made him vulnerable in a world of other sharks."

  Beside him she stirred, tension coiling even tighter. He kept his eyes on her but she didn't look up at him, she was looking at Elijah.

  "He made it clear that day I wasn't anything to him."

  Eli's belly knotted. Was there hurt in her voice? Of course there was. She'd been a child and back then, she had no one else but Cordeau. If he'd shown in front of company she was nothing to him, she would always feel like nothing.

  "He did," Elijah said.

  "How?" Eli asked.

  She flinched. Hard. For the first time she tried to pull away from him. His fingers dug into her waist, holding her still, holding her to him. Her hand slid over his, fingers trying to remove the vise-like grip he had on her.

  "He insisted she read to us, and when she stumbled through a passage, everyone laughed. He laughed the loudest and said something about Catarina being an empty but decorative head."

  Eli felt the sudden heat in her body as she flushed a deep rose. She was humiliated all over again. He hadn't expected that either, but it stood to reason. Childhood experiences shaped everyone. Catarina's childhood had not only been traumatic, but she'd grown up thinking she wasn't worth anything to anyone.

  She was beginning to actively struggle against him, fighting, not him, but her past. Elijah had brought it too close and the dark ugly memories were flooding her mind.

  Eli leaned down, his mouth a whisper from her ear. "Settle," he advised softly. "This is all crap. It's over. You aren't with him, and you aren't what he said you were."

  He transferred one hand to the back of her head, shaping her skull with his palm, pushing her face into his rib cage and holding her there. Was it possible they all had Cordeau wrong and Catarina meant far more to him that he let on? That entire time, when he was convincing everyone around him, Catarina included, that she meant nothing, that he was even embarrassed by her, was Cordeau really protecting her from his associates?

  Eli didn't want to think so. He didn't want to see Cordeau as having any redeeming qualities, but the truth was that no one was one-dimensional. All that time, Cordeau could have been pretending indifference to protect her. He tried not to think about the incident when she'd fallen out of the tree and Cordeau had nearly lost his mind. Had that been the act of an indifferent man?

  "It wasn't even a difficult piece, that poem," Catarina said, her voice devoid of all emotion. "A child could have read it."

  Eli's heart bled for her. "Let's go home, baby. It's been a long day. We've still got a ways to run this evening before we're done."

  She turned away immediately, not looking again at Elijah or the other two men. As soon as they were away from the fence, she stepped away from him and began to jog back in the direction of the ranch house.

  Eli stared after her for a moment and then turned to wave at the three men. Elijah lifted his hand in salute. All three men wore somber expressions. Eli couldn't blame them. It was impossible not to feel the pain radiating off of Catarina. She'd been cut deep more than once. How many cuts like that could a person take before their soul was ripped away?

  He fell into step behind her, jogging easily, covering the ground with his longer legs to catch up to her. She'd never had a chance. Not a single chance. She was beautiful and intelligent and so sweet he wanted to eat her up like candy, but never once had she had any real choices. If he were any kind of man at all, he'd let her go and hope she came back to him, but the Han Vol Dan was too close and his leopard would never allow its mate out of his sight. Did that make him every bit as bad as Cordeau? What the hell did that make him?

  It took a good half hour to get home, and that was with them making good time. Catarina set herself a grueling pace. Twice he'd tried to slow her down, but she didn't even acknowledge his warnings. He let it go when ordinarily he would have forced her to stop. Yeah. He was that kind of a man. He controlled things. He got his way. He looked after his own. Was he just like Cordeau? Did she see him that way?

  He cursed with every step he took. Darkness streaked the orange sky in long layers, stacking one on top of the other, first sandwiching the orange and then squeezing slowly until all that color was gone. He thought he had a kitten on his hands, and he'd actually acquired a little tiger. Because Cordeau had essentially taught her she was nothing, she didn't recognize that she was a tiger, not a kitten.

  The house was dark when they arrived, but neither switched on any lights. Catarina held herself away from him, averting her face as he reached past her to open the kitchen door. He stepped back to allow her inside.

  "I'm going to take a bath," she announced.

  He wasn't surprised. She spent a lot of time in the bathtub and he knew it was a form of escape. Not certain what to say, he simply nodded his head. He watched her go, his heart sinking. What kind of man was he? He clenched his teeth. He already knew. He'd made the decision almost the moment he laid eyes on Catarina. Some part of him recognized her and what she meant to him. She'd given herself to him, committed to their life together. Maybe it wasn't perfect, that decision, but there was no real choice for her. No other choice.

  He jerked open the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. He needed her. His body needed hers. He ached, and not from the run or their climb or the bag work. He ached because every muscle in his body felt cramped and tight. Catarina Benoit belonged to him and he wasn't giving her up. Not even for all the right reasons, because, damn it all, he wasn't a good man and truthfully, he fucking didn't care.

  He walked into the bedroom and glanced toward the master bath. The door was closed. The sound of water running was muffled. The scent of honeysuckle drifted from under the door to envelope him. Instantly the taste of her was on his tongue, in his mouth and his cock swelled alarmingly.

  He'd waited for her to come to him. Was it really that damned hard? He'd been pressed up against her body every night. She couldn't fail to read the signs, but not once had she made a move. Even her morning kisses were tentative and chaste. She wasn't getting away with that crap anymore. He'd waited for her to make her move and tried to drive himself to exhaustion while he waited. She ha
d his body--and him--in knots. He was done with being the nice guy.

  He felt the edges of his temper expand. He was already in a foul mood. He stalked to the door and found it locked. His temper flared instantly, hot and violent. He didn't knock. He didn't ask her questions, he just kicked the door hard. The doorjamb broke instantly and the door flew open. He stepped inside.

  She stood naked beside the tub, her hands over her head as she put her hair up. Startled, she spun around, her breasts swaying invitingly, her eyes wide with shock. "Eli?" Her teeth tugged at her lower lip.

  "Don't fucking lock that door again, you hear me?" He took a step toward her, his eyes blazing with fire. "Not now, not ever. I don't give a damn how angry or upset you are, you don't lock me out of any room you're in."

  She didn't flinch. She stood her ground. "I take it that's another rule."

  "Damn straight it is, and you'd better remember it."

  "Perhaps you might tell me all the rules so I don't keep making mistakes."

  He studied her face. Her brilliant cobalt eyes. "Are you being a smart-ass right now? Do you think that's really wise?" It was difficult to judge her mood. More than anything she looked defiant. He didn't do defiant very well and his leopard liked it even less. He forced the cat under control when it rose snarling and raking at him with demanding claws.

  She shrugged and stepped into the tub. He was close enough to see the small shiver that ran through her body. She wasn't nearly as sure of herself--or of him. He stepped close to her. Very close. Close enough for her to see the bulge straining against his trousers, but then she'd been seeing it every day for four long days and nights and she hadn't done a damn thing about it.

  "You've got twenty minutes and then I want you out of here. I'll be on the kitchen porch. I want you to join me."

  "I'm tired. I thought I'd just go to bed."

  His gaze slashed her face. "I'm restraining myself here, Cat. Keep it up and you're going to find yourself in trouble and believe me, baby, when I say you won't like the trouble you're getting into. Join me in twenty minutes and don't be late." He shoved the bottle of water at her. "And drink this. How many times do I have to fucking tell you to hydrate after working out?"

  She took the bottle of water, her eyes searching his face. He kept his features hard. Implacable. No give. He wasn't feeling like giving. He was feeling like taking. He'd had enough of waiting for her to come to him. She wasn't going to do it, and unless he wanted to wait for her reluctant leopard to emerge, he was never going to have her soft body surrounding his with heat and fire. He turned and abruptly stormed out.

  Catarina slowly twisted the cap off the water bottle, all the while keeping her gaze on the empty doorway. Her heart hammered too fast. Too hard. Too loud. Had he heard? She wouldn't be surprised if he had and if he had, he hadn't cared enough to do anything about it. The story of her life. She had planned a good long crying fest, a pity party right there in the bathtub.

  Elijah just had to tell that horrible, humiliating story to Eli. She pressed the cool water bottle to her hot face. As a temptress, she was an utter failure. She had no idea how to entice Eli into touching her. She didn't want to make the first move because she felt awkward.

  Where was that hussy of a leopard when she needed her? Eli had all but retreated from her. He was angry, but she wasn't certain why. She'd done everything he'd asked of her, no matter how difficult, no matter how tiring. She could only guess that he wanted her so tired he wouldn't have to touch her. Now, after hearing what Elijah had said, he really wouldn't want to touch her, but he needed sex all the time, so she was rather handy to have around.

  Eli was nearly always hard around her. She couldn't miss the state of his body, yet he hadn't even tried to have sex with her, not even when they lay naked in bed together and his cock was pressed so tight against her. Was she really that awful? Or was it because the challenge was gone? She'd given herself to him and since then, he'd rejected her.

  She drew her knees up tight against her chest. Eli had been bad-tempered, moody and even mean with her since that first morning after. She'd never been able to get Cordeau's attention and as a child, she'd tried. She'd been desperate for someone, anyone at all to take an interest in her. He never had. She'd been cared for just the way he cared for the objects in his home. Now she had the same problem with Eli. She didn't know how to get his attention.

  Eli had used that voice, the one that made her shiver. The one that made her go hot. The one that always sent fire dancing between her legs. Did he know what that voice did to her? Did he realize just talking to her like that made her weak with need? She sighed and pressed her fingertips to her eyes.

  She knew that these past four days she did what she always did when she didn't know what to do. She retreated. Withdrew. Eli had let her. He'd acted almost disinterested in her. He was more worried about how fast she ran and how far. She hadn't made one complaint, not one, no matter how sore she was or how bad it hurt when they were sparring. She had done every single thing he asked and she cooked the best meals she could think of. Still, that hadn't been enough for him.

  Eli had been in a foul mood every single day. She didn't know what she'd done or what she was supposed to do. She just knew it wasn't good enough. Nothing she did was good enough. She contemplated defying him, but it wasn't worth the effort. She really was tired of it all. She just wanted to go to bed and pull the blankets over her head and just hide.

  Catarina dried off slowly and pulled on one of Eli's flannel shirts. At least she felt clean and alive again after their workout. She wandered into the kitchen. The dishes were still in the sink so she rinsed them and began to put them in the dishwasher.

  "Kitten. Come here. Now."

  Catarina heard the rough in his voice. His sensual, sexy growl that always made her wet. Her body reacted with hunger. With anticipation. Excitement. At the same time, she was tired of being ordered around by a man who didn't care enough to talk to her. To explain anything. She didn't deserve his foul mood.

  She wandered over to the screen, pushed it open with one hand and stood in the doorway looking at him. He sat in the shadows, in his favorite chair, his hair damp from his shower and his eyes all cat. And maybe that was the trouble. He was more leopard than man. "What is it you want from me, Eli?" she asked softly. "More sex? That seems to be all you want from me, but only when you want it. I don't right now."

  His eyes narrowed. Fury burned. She didn't care. She stood her ground. She wasn't backing down.

  "Do you think I don't know when my woman wants me?"

  "You're talking about my body, Eli, which strictly speaking isn't all me. My body wants you. I'm not denying that. But I don't. Me. The woman. You hurt me. You didn't notice, or you didn't care. You demand all the time that I talk to you--that I tell you everything going through my mind, but you don't bother to give me that same courtesy. I asked you if you were angry with me and you refused to answer. I have no idea what I've done to set you off and quite frankly, right at this minute, I don't even care."

  That was such a lie. She did care. It hurt to have him upset. She'd trusted him all over again. Given herself to him. Declared she'd stay with him and start their relationship over. She knew she was going to cry and that upset her more. Those leopard eyes staring at her without blinking, coming out of the dark like they did, were terrifying. But she refused to back down.

  "You'd better start caring, Cat," he snapped back.

  "Why? So we can have sex and you can walk off a happy man again? That's all that matters to you, isn't it, Eli. If you'd just left it there it would have been fine. We could have sex and you could be in control and I'd just go along with it, because really, in your eyes, that's all I'm good for."

  "Do you really believe that the only thing I value you for is for sex?" he demanded, his voice harsh.

  "Why would you value me even for sex?" she shot back. "I don't know the first thing about it. You tell me to put my mouth on you in the mornings when I wake up and yo
u did so knowing I couldn't possibly do more than give you a brief kiss. That's a set-up, kind of like when Rafe forced me to read that poem so he could make fun of me. For you, I'm more like a body you can use, and if I don't do exactly as you say, you go up in flames."

  His face changed. The anger glittered in his eyes, and the lines in his face hardened more. He was up, crossing the distance between them so fast she almost didn't see him move. He was intimidating up close. He smelled wild. Feral. His hands belied his scent and those golden eyes. He reached for her and drew her reluctant body against his--and he was gentle when he touched her, which shocked her.

  "Catarina, I don't understand how you could think you mean so little to me. Or that I'd be capable of making fun of you when you do something so beautiful and giving as waking me up in a loving way in the mornings."

  She turned red. She felt the color sweeping up her neck into her face. At night, erotic images played through her mind. His body heat scorched her. She could taste him in her mouth. Feel him on her skin. Sometimes she even felt him inside of her. She wanted to be able to match him in every way, but she didn't know what she was doing. He knew that.

  "Why are you angry with me, Eli? And don't say you're not." It was painful to ask him. She'd done everything she could to please him and it wasn't enough. She never seemed to be enough, no matter how hard she tried.

  His hand moved through her hair, as if soothing her, yet his eyes were still all predator watching prey. "I've given you every opportunity to think about it, but you chose not to take any of them." The edge in his voice increased and his eyes went from amber to a fierce golden liquid, taking her breath.

  "I don't know what that means, Eli," she admitted.

  "It means, baby, I'm done with the fucking bullshit. I've wanted those lips of yours wrapped around me every fucking morning but you haven't exactly been cooperative."

  "You wanted your cock in my mouth?" she echoed, thinking of every morning when she'd been too shy to do what she wanted, which apparently was what he'd been waiting for. "You were waiting for me to . . . um . . . initiate it?"