Nalini Singh - The Magical Christmas Cat

"And what was Jason?" she asked, her tone biting. "You didn't even warn me you had anyone else watching me. He died need­lessly."

"All breeds die needlessly," he informed her roughly. "It's a war out there, Haley, and you're smack in the middle of it now. Get that in your head. You will not survive alone. You will not survive without me. Period. Until we figure out what the hell happened, you're stuck with me."

She came off the bed, denial raging inside her.

"Find someone else. I told you, I don't want you here."

"And I told you, sorry 'bout your luck," he snarled, those wicked, wicked canines flashing at the sides of his mouth.

Haley fantasized about those teeth sometimes. Fantasized about watching them rake over her breasts, nip at them. Sometimes she dreamed of them at her neck, her shoulder, biting against her, hold­ing her in place as he took her.

The animalistic quality of those dreams had always shocked her to her core and left her wet and hungry for days on end.

As she faced him, she felt that arousal, a constant companion anytime he was near, and forced herself to back away from him.

"You act as though all you need to do is place distance be­tween us to alleviate the sweet smell of your hunger for me," he bit out, shocking her. "Do you think I can't smell your desire a mile away?"

She shook her head. She couldn't face this tonight, not on top of the blood and death that surrounded her. She felt as though her body and her soul were stained with guilt.

"This is why you can't be here," she whispered. "I'm not stupid, Noble. I'll distract you, and you'll end up dead."

He shook his head and moved closer. Just a few steps, just enough to warn her that he wasn't going to pay attention to her.

"We'll definitely distract each other," he promised her, his voice low, vibrating with lust. "There's no help for it. And that will be our advantage."

She shook her head fiercely. "It's not an advantage. You know better than that."

She backed farther away from him, jerking in surprise as she came against the wall behind her. She watched, her breathing harsh, heavy as he came closer, stalking her, his expression becoming in­tent, heavy with hunger.

"You're my mate, Haley," he told her, his voice heavy. And it didn't sound like a good thing. It sounded much too close to the stories that were devoured in the magazines that featured the breeds prominently, with stories of lust-crazed hungers and desires that defied believability.

"I can't handle this from you," she whispered, as he came closer, almost touching her, his chest inches from the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as she stared up at him beseechingly. "Can't you see that, Noble? I can't deal with fairy tales tonight, or with you here."

"And I can't deal with another man watching over you." He reached out and touched her cheek, his knuckles rasping over it.

He rarely touched her. In the year he had been coming to the library, she could count on one hand how many times his skin had actually touched hers.

"Do you know what a mating is?" His head lowered until his lips caressed her ear.

Haley let her head rest against the wall, her body feeling weak now while the blood began to pump hard and heavy through her body.

"The tabloids," she whispered. "They're not true."

"Not precisely." He rubbed his cheek against her.

The curiously gentle stroke of his cheek against hers did more to her than she could have imagined possible. Her lashes drifted closed, sensual weakness invaded her body as her sex began to heat, to clench with empty need.

"Not precisely?" she whispered, as his head lifted, and he stepped back slowly. "What does 'not precisely' mean, exactly?"

"It means, soon, you'll find out, there's no escaping me, Haley. And there's no escaping what you need from me. Soon."

He stepped back farther. "You need to rest. The next few days won't be easy for you, and I don't want to complicate that. But there's no forcing me out of here, there's no running from me any longer. We will see this through together."

Haley bit back her protests. She had been raised by her Scottish father and two older brothers, she knew male determination and arrogance, and if she wasn't mistaken, then Noble had more than his fair share of both.

As he left the bedroom, she slumped against the wall and breathed out wearily. Fear was like an animal trapped inside her, as was her grief. And like the desire she felt for Noble, she had no idea how to handle either emotion.

Noble stepped from the kitchen hours later, after Haley slipped silently through the house, like a wraith in her long white gown and robe, her soft red hair a fiery cloud around her pale face.

He watched as she moved to the huge Christmas tree and slowly, silently, collected two presents from beneath it and walked to the couch.

He was careful to stay within the shadows. He knew grief. Some­times, a person had to be alone with it, and sometimes a woman needed to be alone with her tears.

She opened the first, which he knew must have been Patricia's. The finely made wrap was a blend of russets and dark golds. He remembered that Patricia liked darker colors.

Haley brought the wrap to her cheek, closed her eyes, and let her tears fall. They fell to the material as her shoulders shook, and she whispered her sorrow against it.

Long minutes later, she smoothed the wrap over her lap and stared at the other, smaller present in front of het. Regret sliced across his chest. He wanted to go to her. He needed to hold her through her pain. Yet, a part of him sensed, knew, that for Haley to survive, she had to say good-bye in her own way.

She reached for the box and set it on her knee as she opened it slowly. She lifted the lid of the wide, black jeweler's box and stared at what she had revealed for long, silent moments.

"I'll miss you, Jason Lincoln," she whispered. "I'm sorry you never found out what freedom truly was."

Then she set the box on the table, pulled the wrap around her, and curled herself onto the cushions of the couch. She stared at that box as the tears whispered over her cheeks, and finally, just before dawn peeked over the horizon, Haley drifted into sleep.

Noble stepped farther into the room, moved to the table, and stared down at what she had bought Jason Lincoln. It was a brace­let. Hammered silver and engraved with a single word, freedom. Beside the word was a lion's paw print.

She'd known Jason wanted a Christmas present. He wondered if she knew that the women of Sanctuary made certain every breed had a Christmas present at Christmas whether they wanted one or not, whether they believed in the holiday or not.

He bent his knees, resting on the pads of his feet as he stared at the present and at the woman. The wrap she had bought Patri­cia was snug around her shoulders, and the tracks of her tears still dampened her cheeks.

He would give her her time to grieve because he knew she needed it. If he allowed that to be stolen from her, she would never walk into his arms as he needed her to. And he needed her to do that. To come to him. To need him. To ache as he ached and to want as he wanted.

Shaking his head he straightened, drew the light blanket from the back of the couch, and spread it over her before moving to the chair beside her.

He needed a few hours to doze himself. He would catch sleep as he could, and as a breed, he would adapt until they caught the per­son who had wounded her so deeply. And when they caught him, Noble promised himself, he would exact vengeance for her.

Three days later, they laid Patricia to rest next to her hus­band and the daughter who had gone before her. Noble stood behind Haley through the service and the burial, and as her pain overwhelmed his senses, he pulled her against his chest.