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flared, his eyes narrowed and his muscles bunched as he rose slowly from the chair to a very impressive height of six feet, four inches tall. Too tall for her, she thought.
    She felt dwarfed by him, despite her own five feet eight inches. She felt too feminine, and too physically weak. She felt like those silly little twits that cooed and ahhed at the sight of him. The ones she hated because they lusted after him with such determination. The slinky little redheads that hung to his arm. The vapid little brunettes she had seen him squire around. She detested each and every one.
    “You’re normally up rather late,” he stated, his voice low as his gaze flickered to her laptop. The one she hadn’t turned on all day. “I expected you to be working on whatever story you were coming up with.” There was an edge of suspicion in his voice.
    Could he smell her nerves along with her arousal? Probably. But who wasn’t nervous around him?
    “I don’t consider the story or my hours any of your business.” She shrugged, moved across the room and headed to the open kitchen. “I’m going to fix a pot of coffee. Interested?” In the coffee, she should have said. It was rarely a good thing to leave a question or a sentence open around a Breed.
    She felt him follow her. Like a heated breath of air at her back, she could feel him behind her as she moved into the kitchen and headed for the counter.
    “Nothing for me.”
    No coffee, tea or me, she thought sarcastically.
    She lifted her shoulder negligently. “Suit yourself.”
    Silence filled the room as she programmed the coffeemaker and flipped it on. Within seconds, the scent of hot, rich coffee began to fill the room.
    Cassa turned then and faced the one man, the Breed, she couldn’t seem to help but be fascinated by, despite her own best efforts.
    He looked far different now than he had eleven years before, during his rescue from the labs in Germany where he was being held.
    There, he had been bloodied, slashed, bruised, near death, but still fighting to survive, in a pit filled with stakes and slashing blades. His pride had fallen around him. Women, children, young men. His screams of rage still haunted her nightmares, as did the knowledge that she had played a part in the horror he had experienced. And he knew it.
    Guilt seared her with a slash of pain that raced across her chest, and a sense of fear that never failed to weaken her knees. And he sensed it, just as he always did. She watched his eyes darken, his body tense as the scent of it reached him.
    “I haven’t killed you yet,” he growled. “I’d imagine you could drop the fear now, Cassa.”
    “Perhaps it’s just a case of feminine wariness?” She asked a question rather than making a statement. Breeds could smell a lie, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of smelling hers.
    “And arousal?” His head tilted to the side as though the knowledge of it were a curiosity to him.
    “I bet a lot of women are aroused by you.” She was careful to keep her tone even, calm. No nervousness, no hint of guilt. She’d learned over the years how to cover most responses when around Breeds. They sensed too much, knew too much. And Cassa had far too many secrets.
    “That doesn’t answer my question,” he stated, as he continued to watch her much too closely. “Why fear me now?”
    Cassa could only shake her head. And stare. She stared at those golden flecks in his eyes, unable to break the hold they had on her. She wanted, no, she ached to touch him, and that was by far the most dangerous impulse she had ever known. And the thought of that need infuriated her. He was the last man in the world she should ache for. The last one that she should need, and she knew it.
    “What do you want, Cabal?” She bit the words out as she tried to hold back her anger and her need.
    His gaze narrowed. The look was a warning, and it was one that common sense suggested she heed. Unfortunately, common sense had never been her