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referred to some secret sect of Pantera and the Everglades.
    Her concentration, however, couldn’t block out the rich scent of male musk that filled the air as Michel climbed the stairs and entered the apartment. She instinctively stiffened, then, as he headed directly into the bedroom, she breathed out a sigh of relief.
    Gah. She’d known this was going to be unpleasant.
    Being trapped with a person who could barely disguise their hatred for you was never fun. But she hadn’t been expecting the ruthless arousal that pulsed between them, rubbing her nerves raw.
    And now that he’d kissed her…
    The awareness she’d always experienced since catching sight of the mysterious spy had intensified into something a thousand times more annoying. She felt restless. On edge. As if there was a need vibrating deep inside her that was about to explode. She’d never experienced anything like it before.
    It would be easy to tell herself that it was a reaction to the Pantera blood she’d injected over the years. It might very well be setting off some strange mating urge now that she was staying in the Wildlands.
    A damned shame the reasonable theory didn’t explain why only Michel seemed to inspire the intense reaction.
    Still rifling through the files, she was brooding on her unwelcomed hunger for a male who considered her the enemy when there was the sound of approaching footsteps and Michel’s rough voice sliced through the air.
    “What the hell?”
    With a jolt of alarm, Chelsea dropped the files and rose to her feet. “What’s wrong?”
    Striding grimly forward, Michel held out a small picture frame he’d obviously discovered in the bedroom.
    “Do you want to explain this?”
    She didn’t need to look at the photo he was waving beneath her nose. She knew it was an image of herself standing beside a lake with Locke at her side. They were gazing at each other and smiling. Two people who were clearly intimately familiar with each other.
    Crap.
    “It’s a photo,” she muttered.
    A growl rumbled in his chest, his eyes flashing gold. “Don’t push me.”
    Without warning, he threw the picture across the room, as if it somehow offended him.
    And maybe it did. She’d always known she was taking a risk in not revealing she’d been Locke’s lover. But…
    She hunched her shoulders, absently chewing her thumbnail. “What do you want to know?”
    “Why does Locke have a picture of the two of you together?”
    She glanced toward the broken frame and glass that was shattered over the floor. “I’ve never hidden the fact we worked closely together.”
    “How close?” Wrapping his fingers around her wrist he pulled her hand away from her mouth in a growingly familiar habit. Then, when she refused to answer, he tightened his grip and tugged her until she was pressed against his chest. “Dr. Young?”
    Tilting back her head, she sucked in a sharp breath as she met his smoldering gaze. His cat was studying her with an intensity that made the hairs on her nape stand upright.
    “That’s none of your business.”
    He leaned down until they were nose to nose. “How close?”
    She shivered. Even as he glared at her in furious suspicion, she couldn’t halt her feminine reaction to the feel of her breasts pressed against his hard muscles.
    Clearly she was demented.
    “Dammit,” she breathed.
    “Tell me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl.
    Chelsea heaved a resigned sigh. “Very close.”
    “You were lovers.”
    “Yes.”
    Without warning he released her wrist and stepped back to study her with a scowl.
    “You didn’t think you should share that little tidbit of information?”
    She absently rubbed her wrist. Not because it hurt. For all his suspicions, Michel had always touched her with a surprising tenderness. But she could still feel the heat of his touch scalding her skin.
    “No.” She gave a lift of her shoulder. “Like I said, it’s none of your business.”
    His jaw clenched, the air pulsing with the force