She turned away immediately, not looking again at Elijah or the other two men. As soon as they were away from the fence, she stepped away from him and began to jog back in the direction of the ranch house.

Eli stared after her for a moment and then turned to wave at the three men. Elijah lifted his hand in salute. All three men wore somber expressions. Eli couldn’t blame them. It was impossible not to feel the pain radiating off of Catarina. She’d been cut deep more than once. How many cuts like that could a person take before their soul was ripped away?

He fell into step behind her, jogging easily, covering the ground with his longer legs to catch up to her. She’d never had a chance. Not a single chance. She was beautiful and intelligent and so sweet he wanted to eat her up like candy, but never once had she had any real choices. If he were any kind of man at all, he’d let her go and hope she came back to him, but the Han Vol Dan was too close and his leopard would never allow its mate out of his sight. Did that make him every bit as bad as Cordeau? What the hell did that make him?

It took a good half hour to get home, and that was with them making good time. Catarina set herself a grueling pace. Twice he’d tried to slow her down, but she didn’t even acknowledge his warnings. He let it go when ordinarily he would have forced her to stop. Yeah. He was that kind of a man. He controlled things. He got his way. He looked after his own. Was he just like Cordeau? Did she see him that way?

He cursed with every step he took. Darkness streaked the orange sky in long layers, stacking one on top of the other, first sandwiching the orange and then squeezing slowly until all that color was gone. He thought he had a kitten on his hands, and he’d actually acquired a little tiger. Because Cordeau had essentially taught her she was nothing, she didn’t recognize that she was a tiger, not a kitten.

The house was dark when they arrived, but neither switched on any lights. Catarina held herself away from him, averting her face as he reached past her to open the kitchen door. He stepped back to allow her inside.

“I’m going to take a bath,” she announced.

He wasn’t surprised. She spent a lot of time in the bathtub and he knew it was a form of escape. Not certain what to say, he simply nodded his head. He watched her go, his heart sinking. What kind of man was he? He clenched his teeth. He already knew. He’d made the decision almost the moment he laid eyes on Catarina. Some part of him recognized her and what she meant to him. She’d given herself to him, committed to their life together. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, that decision, but there was no real choice for her. No other choice.

He jerked open the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. He needed her. His body needed hers. He ached, and not from the run or their climb or the bag work. He ached because every muscle in his body felt cramped and tight. Catarina Benoit belonged to him and he wasn’t giving her up. Not even for all the right reasons, because, damn it all, he wasn’t a good man and truthfully, he fucking didn’t care.

He walked into the bedroom and glanced toward the master bath. The door was closed. The sound of water running was muffled. The scent of honeysuckle drifted from under the door to envelope him. Instantly the taste of her was on his tongue, in his mouth and his cock swelled alarmingly.

He’d waited for her to come to him. Was it really that damned hard? He’d been pressed up against her body every night. She couldn’t fail to read the signs, but not once had she made a move. Even her morning kisses were tentative and chaste. She wasn’t getting away with that crap anymore. He’d waited for her to make her move and tried to drive himself to exhaustion while he waited. She had his body – and him – in knots. He was done with being the nice guy.

He felt the edges of his temper expand. He was already in a foul mood. He stalked to the door and found it locked. His temper flared instantly, hot and violent. He didn’t knock. He didn’t ask her questions, he just kicked the door hard. The doorjamb broke instantly and the door flew open. He stepped inside.

She stood naked beside the tub, her hands over her head as she put her hair up. Startled, she spun around, her breasts swaying invitingly, her eyes wide with shock. “Eli?” Her teeth tugged at her lower lip.

“Don’t fucking lock that door again, you hear me?” He took a step toward her, his eyes blazing with fire. “Not now, not ever. I don’t give a damn how angry or upset you are, you don’t lock me out of any room you’re in.”

She didn’t flinch. She stood her ground. “I take it that’s another rule.”

“Damn straight it is, and you’d better remember it.”

“Perhaps you might tell me all the rules so I don’t keep making mistakes.”

He studied her face. Her brilliant cobalt eyes. “Are you being a smart-ass right now? Do you think that’s really wise?” It was difficult to judge her mood. More than anything she looked defiant. He didn’t do defiant very well and his leopard liked it even less. He forced the cat under control when it rose snarling and raking at him with demanding claws.

She shrugged and stepped into the tub. He was close enough to see the small shiver that ran through her body. She wasn’t nearly as sure of herself – or of him. He stepped close to her. Very close. Close enough for her to see the bulge straining against his trousers, but then she’d been seeing it every day for four long days and nights and she hadn’t done a damn thing about it.

“You’ve got twenty minutes and then I want you out of here. I’ll be on the kitchen porch. I want you to join me.”