Hunter's Need (10 page)

But with Ana . . .

Even as he told himself to stop, to back away, find out what he needed to know and get the hell away from her, he couldn’t. Even as he lifted a hand to touch her, curling it around her neck and tugging her close, he told himself to quit and he couldn’t. “No answer, Ana?” he whispered, rubbing his thumb across her full lower lip.

Let it go—none of that matters
.

Except it did. It
did
matter, why she’d all but melted in his arms, melted around him, over him, so damned hot she’d almost burned him. Had she really wanted him? Or had it been because she had psycho bitch pulling her strings? How deep had Cat’s control on Ana gone?

She shook, her body all but vibrating. She was afraid, he could scent it on her, but it wasn’t just fear. His lids drooped over his eyes, a growl rumbling in his chest, as he realized he had his answer right there.

Ana didn’t have to say a damn thing.

She wanted him. All but burned with it.

That realization could have laid him out flat. Stunned, trying to adjust to it, he stared down at her. She returned his stare, watching him from carefully blank eyes. Those eyes didn’t reveal anything, but her body was a different story.

Want
.

Need
.

Longing
. . .

It was the last one that really floored him. Longing . . . something that went deeper than desire, deeper than need.

He scented it on her. It was enough to make his mouth water and his cock swell. It was enough to have his heart aching, for reasons he didn’t entirely understand. Enough to make him want to haul her against him and finish the dance they’d started five years earlier. He didn’t, though.

Because of her fear. He didn’t like her being afraid of him. Heat—he just wanted to smell heat coming off of her, the heat, the desire . . . the longing.

“You’re hot now,” he whispered, lowering his head until his lips hovered just a breath away from hers. “I can smell it, almost taste it. Why are you so hot, princess?”

“Leave me alone, Duke.”

He should. He knew he should. He needed to back away, get the hell away from her, before the anger took control again, before the hunger burning inside him flared too hot for him to handle, before it spilled out onto them and scorched them both. Instead, he dipped his head and nuzzled her neck, breathed in the soft, warm scent of her. She smelled of lavender, soft and subtle, something that clung to her hair and skin.

“You know something that’s eaten me up for the past five years?” he whispered, raking his teeth along the curve of her neck. “Five years ago, I had you this close . . . this close to heaven and I would have done just about anything to get inside you. This close . . . and then I realize I’m closer to hell than I am to heaven—and I never even had the chance to fuck you. If you were going to send me to hell, Ana, you could have at least given me a send-off.”

“Duke . . . don’t.”

“Why not?” He straightened, staring down at her averted face. He toyed with the top button of her shirt and wondered what she’d do, how she’d react if he bent his head and tore the buttons off with his teeth. “Why shouldn’t I touch you? You want me. You can’t lie about that.”

She reached up and caught his wrist and shoved him away.

He let her, although he was tempted not to. And when she stepped back, he let her, even though he didn’t want to.

“Why shouldn’t I touch you?” he asked again, his voice low, harsh with the hunger tearing into him.

“You hate me. I can’t blame you for that, but I’m not going to sleep with a guy that hates me.”

Cocking his head, he studied her face. His anger, the blinding anger that he had lived with for years began to fade as he caught scent of something else. Something besides desire and longing, something other than fear and hesitation.

It bothered him, that faint, almost hidden scent. Bothered him even more than her fear. It was acrid, sharp—almost like pain. Like she was hurt. Hurt—because she thought he hated her?

“I don’t hate you.”

She snorted and backed away from him, circling away warily and watching him like she didn’t quite trust him. “Yeah, sure you don’t. And you aren’t pissed off at me anymore, either.” She backed away from him, keeping her eyes on his face until she had put the width of the room between them.

He frowned at her. He didn’t like her being afraid of him. Wary, that was fine. It didn’t bother him, but actual fear, he didn’t like it. And he didn’t like knowing he’d done something to hurt her.

Blocking out that voice, he hopped up and settled on the counter behind him, watching as she curled up on the couch. She was about as far away from him as she could be without leaving the room.

“I don’t hate you,” he said again. He wondered at it, how easily he could say it and mean it. For a long time, he hadn’t let himself think about whether or not he hated the pretty blonde that had been responsible for putting him through hell, afraid to let himself think about the answer because he’d feared it.

Hate was an ugly emotion, one that threatened a man’s control, and to a man like Duke, control meant everything.

Looking at her made it hard to think, though, and he focused his gaze on the floor instead, staring at the warm gleaming wood as he made himself think back, made himself remember.

“I’m not going to lie to you and say I’m cool with what happened, but I get why you made the choices you made. I don’t agree with them, but they make sense.” He glanced at her from under his lashes, watched the surprise flicker across her face. “I’ve already wasted enough energy being pissed at you over the past few years. But I don’t think I ever hated you. I dunno, maybe I’m too damn lazy to waste that much energy on something that’s done and over with.”

“Fine. You don’t hate me. You’ll just distrust me and anything I say or do for the rest of your life,” she said, averting her gaze.

She took off her shoes, dropping the thick-soled hiking boots by the couch and then focusing on her socks, paying a lot more attention to the simple task than what was really needed. Duke watched her, watched as she settled back against the couch and reached up, toying with the top button of her shirt.

An unconscious action, Duke suspected, but still, he couldn’t quit staring at her slender fingers and wishing she’d undo that button. Then the next one. And the next . . . he wanted her. Wanted to see her strip out of her shirt, her jeans, her bra and panties, to see her naked in front of him.

He wanted her—just as he had for the past five years, but for some reason, it no longer pissed him off quite so much. No—not
some
reason. That made it seem indefinable, like he didn’t quite understand the change. But he did. It was because he knew the truth, or at least some of it now. Because he’d finally made himself ask the question that had haunted him for so long.

She had wanted him that night. It hadn’t been a lie, hadn’t been a show to sucker him in. She’d wanted him then, and she wanted him now.

Plus, as much as he hated to acknowledge it, knowing that she’d suffered thinking he hated her . . . that meant something, right? Maybe it even meant—hell, he didn’t know. Maybe it meant she felt something. Maybe there was just the slightest chance that she was as hung up on him as he was on her. Maybe he wasn’t the only one walking around with a tangled, twisted mess trapped inside.

Shit. This was too confusing. Way too confusing.

“If I distrusted you, I would have hung up the phone when you called,” he said flatly, slipping off the bar and stalking around the counter into the kitchen. It was small, too confining, but he needed something to eat. Something besides lousy airport food or a hamburger. Jerking open the refrigerator, he stared inside.

“Why are you here?”

He glanced into the living room as Ana rose from the couch, still watching him with shuttered eyes.

The first night he’d met her, those purple eyes had been like windows into her soul, showing her every last emotion—it had been endearing that first night, seeing the desire and the nervousness warring within her. Then the rug was jerked out from under him and he’d ended up struggling for his life, and he figured it had all been an act.

Now he was realizing it hadn’t been an act. But things had changed—she’d learned to hide her emotions better.

He hoped she’d gotten better control over her gifts, too. One of those gifts had caused them a lot of trouble and it was one that would wreak havoc on his instincts.

Although sometimes he had to wonder if she’d clouded his instincts as much as he wanted to believe. He’d been thinking with his dick from the moment he laid eyes on her.

Hell, she wasn’t the only one who’d fucked up that night. He had, too.

Of course, if he hadn’t gone with her . . .

He shied away from that. It was something else he hadn’t let himself think about, and he wasn’t going to change that now. Tearing his gaze away from her, he looked back into the refrigerator, studying the rather bare shelves.

Behind him, Ana sighed, exasperated. “Are you going to answer me? Why are you here?”

“I’m here because you called.”

“Why you?”

He took his time answering, taking a few containers from the shelves and peeking inside. A few, he set on the counter, a couple, he put back on the shelves. One he tossed into the trash can alongside the wall—he didn’t even need to look inside that one. Whatever it had been, it was now science-fair material. “Apparently I was the best candidate.”

“I bet that went over swimmingly.”

Duke shrugged and pulled the lid from the first container. Buffalo wings. Some salad in another container and then a third one held banana pudding. Yum. Glancing up at Ana, he said, “I need to eat.”

She glanced at the counter and then back at him. “I never would have guessed.”

“You went and turned into a smart-ass,” he said, still waiting. “Do you mind?”

Ana frowned. “If you need to eat, then why do you care if I mind?”

“Do you mind?” he repeated.

“No. I don’t mind. Eat. Please. Eat and then do whatever in the hell you need to do so you can leave me alone.”

“Whatever in the hell I need—I’ll remember that.” But first, he really needed to eat.

“You hungry?” he asked as he started in on the wings—excellent, even if they were cold. Spice and flavor, not just heat.

“No.”

“Did you already eat?” he asked as he popped open the lid on the salad.

“No. Just not hungry.”

Before he could look for any salad dressing, Ana was going through her refrigerator. She offered him two bottles and he took the blue cheese. He could have done without the salad, but when he was that hungry, food was food. The pudding was homemade, filled with chunks of bananas and vanilla wafers. The first taste had him grunting with approval. He took another bite and studied her from under his lashes. “You don’t eat enough.”

“I eat just fine. Look, can we—” The phone rang, interrupting her. She frowned, glanced at it as though a little startled.

“Hello?”

Even though Ana had been the one to answer, Duke had no trouble recognizing Kelsey’s voice. He grinned. He should have known she’d be checking up on him. He listened to the conversation as he polished off the pudding.

“Yes, he’s here.” Ana’s gaze slid in his direction then bounced away.

“Good.” Kelsey released a pent-up breath. “I wanted to make sure he didn’t bolt at the airport. I’d meant to call, let you know he was coming, but I got sidetracked.”

“Why would he have bolted at the airport?”

Duke felt blood rush up to his cheeks as Kelsey cheerfully chirped, “Oh, he’s got this thing with flying.”

“A thing about flying?” Ana repeated. “What kind of thing?”

“Scares him to death, if I’m guessing right. But that’s beside the point. I just wanted to make sure he got there okay and you two had hooked up.”

Kelsey, you’re evil,
he thought, glaring at the phone as Ana glanced at him. He caught a flash of amusement in her eyes as she studied him. She looked like she was trying to decide if she wanted to laugh or not. “He’s here right now. We haven’t had a chance to talk or anything, though. I just got home.”

“That’s fine. Duke can handle things. I’ve got to go. It’s pretty late here.”

Silence stretched out between them as Ana hung up the phone. She glanced at him, then away. Looked back and this time, she looked like she wanted to say something, but then she looked away again.

She kept that up for about thirty seconds before Duke’s temper snapped.

“What?” he demanded after she opened and closed her mouth before saying anything for the fifth time.

“Ah . . . she said you . . . uh . . . well, you don’t like to fly?”

Duke snorted. No, that wasn’t what Kelsey had said. That would have been too polite. Kelsey had a mischievous streak a mile wide. “That wasn’t exactly what she’d said, now was it?”

“Well, no. Not exactly.” She blinked, then stared at him like he’d suddenly sprouted an extra head. “She said you were afraid of flying.”

Jamming his hands into his pockets, he stared right back. “I’m not afraid of flying—I’m afraid of being trapped inside a tin can that could come crashing down to earth at any given time. Going out in a blaze is just fine, as long as I’m not strapped into some chair and hurtling toward the earth at a thousand miles a second.”

“Air travel is ridiculously safe, Duke.” Her mouth was a straight, unsmiling line, but he could see the corners of her pretty pink lips quirking as though she had to fight the urge to smile—or laugh.

He scowled and dumped the bowl on the counter. “Laugh away, Ana.”

“I’m not laughing,” she said.

Only because she was fighting it. But it didn’t bother him as much as he would have thought. Maybe it was because when she was fighting not to laugh, that blank emptiness in her eyes faded away.