about that.
'I'll get you a T-shirt—you can get into your day clothes later in case you decide to go back to sleep.' There was spare women's clothing in the cupboards, but he wanted her covered in his scent. And he was animal enough not to care why he wanted that. He just did. 'Wait here.'
This time, she didn't ask him to stop, but he felt her eyes on him all the way down the hall. She hadn't moved so much as an inch by the time he came back. Whatever it was that she'd seen, it had spooked the hell out of her, spooked her enough to break down her normal shield of cool reserve.
'Here.'
'Thank you.' She closed the door, leaving him to imagine all sorts of things. He was getting to the part about replacing his T-shirt with him when she walked out.
'I left the towel on the drying rod.' She tucked her hair behind her ears.
He saw that his old black T-shirt hit her a bare few inches above the knee, covering way more than he'd expected. 'You're short.'
'Did you only notice now?'
'What are you, five two?'
'One hundred and fifty-five centimeters to be exact.'
That made her a lot shorter than him. Which would make things very interesting in bed. He pushed off the wall, not surprised at the direction of his thoughts, but disturbed by the strength of them. Cats liked sensuous play and Faith was a very enticing female, small but formed just right. And that skin—it made him want to lick her up.
'Why are you looking at me like that?' Faith took a step back and tilted up her head.
No emotion in either her tone or her expression. No scent of desire. But the cat knew full well she found him intriguing.
'Yes, it'll make things very interesting.' He could easily lift her up against a wall and pound into her. Hard. But maybe he'd save that for later—his Psy would probably appreciate a bit less enthusiasm the first few times.
'Vaughn, your eyes are going more jaguar than usual.'
He shook his head in a sharp movement and strode down the hallway. 'I think the coffee's ready.' What the hell was this Psy doing to him? He was known in DarkRiver for being aloof to the point of icy remoteness. Most of the newly mature females gave him a wide berth while they flaunted themselves to every other male, because they knew he wasn't led by his balls. At least not until now.
Faith caught up to him. 'Do you have any nutrition I could have?'
'Nutrition?' He scowled. 'Do you mean food?'
'I have some nutrition bars in my bag if you don't.'
'You're worse than Sascha was.' He put his hand on her lower back and urged her toward the kitchen.
She jumped away like a scalded cat. 'I told you not to touch me.'
He growled very low in his throat. 'Minutes ago you were begging me not to let go. Make up your mind, Red.' He was aware his voice sounded a touch more jaguar than Faith could probably handle.
'I wasn't completely in control when I woke.' She stared at him with wary caution but didn't back away. Then she surprised him even more and took a step closer. 'And you know that.'
The cat growled again, but it was pleased. This woman might look fragile but she had a spine of pure steel. 'Are you sure I'm that logical?'
'No. But you're not an animal either.'
He leaned in close until he had her boxed against the wall, his arms on either side of her body. One simple lift and he could have her at his sexual mercy. 'That's where you're wrong, baby.' He brushed his lips over her ear. 'I'm as animal as they come.' Before she could say anything, he pushed off and walked into the kitchen.
He heard the ragged gasp of her breath a few seconds later. 'Are you really?'
He looked over his shoulder. 'What do you think?'
CHAPTER 7
She walked closer. 'Your eyes aren't quite ... human.'
Most people never figured that out, believing they were simply an unusual color. 'My beast is stronger than most.' And had been ever since that week when he'd survived by turning jaguar and staying that way. Because even a baby jaguar had a better chance of survival in the forest than a ten-year-old human boy. But being in cat form for that length of time at such a young age had permanently changed him.
As if reassured by his calmer tone, she took another step forward. 'What does that mean?'
He poured some coffee into a cup. 'Milk? Sugar?'
'I don't know.'
'Here, taste.' Lifting the black coffee to her lips, he watched her take a sip.
She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent as she
'Good?'
'Put sugar in it,' she ordered, eyes remaining closed.
Vaughn didn't follow orders well, but this was different. This, to him, was a kind of play, though Faith probably didn't think of it that way. Too bad. She was playing with a very interested cat and when that cat got interested in things, it didn't like to be denied. 'Here.' He let her taste the sweetened coffee.
Once again, she breathed deep and savored the taste. 'Milk.'
'All ready.'
A minute later, she opened her eyes. 'The flavors are ... unusual.' She seemed to be searching for words.
'Do you like it?'
'Like? Psy don't feel like or dislike.' She shook her head. 'But perhaps that's because I've never been given food of such different flavors that I have a basis for comparison. I. . . prefer the coffee with the sugar but not the milk.'
He prepared it for her, amused at the way she tried to word things so as not to admit feeling anything even close to emotion. 'Here.' Leaving her to take a sip, he walked to the fridge and pulled the door open. 'You're hungry and so am I. What do you say to bacon and eggs?' He started gathering the ingredients.
'Okay.' She was standing right next to him.
Of course he'd heard her move, but he let her be. She was still scared and Vaughn could stroke rather than bite when he wanted to. He put the bread and other things on the counter and closed the fridge. 'Come on, Red. Time for a cooking lesson.'
She put her coffee cup beside his. 'I'm ready.'
He ran a knuckle down her cheek and when she jumped, he smiled. 'Are you sure?' This close, he saw that while her skin was creamy, it wasn't the pale white of so many redheads, having a rich undertone of gold that only made it more tempting. 'What's your history, Faith NightStar? Where do you get that red hair and this skin?'
'The NightStar PsyClan has many redheads—there is a genetic preponderancy of the trait. My skin is courtesy of a number of genes from both my mother and father.' She reached for the eggs and held them up. 'I'm in need of nutrition.'
He showed her what to do with the first egg and then let her try. 'So you're all-American?'
'No. My mother was born in the former state of Uzbekistan and moved to America as a child. It is my father who is a NightStar. He is primarily of Anglo-Italian heritage, though his great-grandfather was of Asiatic origin.'
'You know the way you Psy mix it up—watch the heat, sugar.' He pulled her hand away when it went too close to the heating unit.
She tugged it out of his grasp. 'Thank you. I think the eggs are done.'
'Uh-huh.' He put them on a plate. 'If you put the bacon in that container over there, it'll cook without splatter.'
