too-sexy dress.
“I think this is our cue to leave.” Torque jerked a thumb in the direction of the door.
“Really?” Dev looked from Sarange’s furious expression to Khan’s watchful one. “Looks like this could get interesting.”
“No need to go, guys.” Khan tossed the words over his shoulder without breaking eye contact with Sarange. “Our visitor isn’t staying.”
He saw Torque wince at his dismissive tone. That distaste was the effect Khan wanted to have on Sarange. He needed to drive her away. Right away. Make her view him with hatred and contempt. If he couldn’t make this aching, burning longing go away, he could at least make sure nothing ever came of it.
Although she was looking at him with scorn, Sarange wasn’t going anywhere. She had come here with a purpose, and with classic wolf tenacity, she was going to see it through. His bandmates had clearly recognized her intention and, following Torque’s lead, were heading for the door. Khan couldn’t even call them on it. Couldn’t question their loyalty. Over the years, his relationship with them had become the closest thing he had to friendship. But he was a tiger. A big cat loner. Powerful, sensual, selfish and controlling. His need to dominate the group was far greater than his human need to be liked.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Sarange was back on the attack. Like a beautiful wolf gnawing on a bone. “I was warned about you. Narcissist. Playboy. Jerk. That’s what I was told. I don’t know why I thought you’d be different.”
“Nor do I.”
A strangled sound of fury issued from her throat. “You are the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.”
He laughed. “This is nothing. I can get a lot worse.”
She drew a breath. “You made a commitment to this concert. You were the headline act. When you walked out on the finale, you gave a message to the audience that it didn’t matter—”
He flapped a hand at her. “I get it. Let it go, wolf girl.”
Her brow furrowed. “Wolf girl? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Khan stared down at her, incredulity jolting him out of his attempted nonchalance. She appeared genuinely confused. What the hell reason could she have to pretend not to be a werewolf? Was it possible Sarange didn’t know she was a shifter? He’d never heard of that happening before, couldn’t believe it was conceivable. Yet she was looking at him as though he was crazy.
Maybe that was the explanation. He might just be crazy after all. Had he gotten this all wrong? Could it be that she wasn’t a werewolf? He dismissed that thought instantly. Khan’s shifter instincts were pure and true. Beneath the expensive perfume she wore, the scent of Sarange’s skin made his nostrils flare. She smelled of female wolf. Of lichens and berries, frost and pine. Of dark, sharp evergreens and ice-hard ground. It was an aroma that should have been alien to his inner cat. Instead, it was making his mouth water.
He wanted to taste her so much it hurt. And Sarange felt it, too. It was there in the depths of those unusual light eyes, in the flare of her nostrils, the way her nipples tightened and pressed against the thin cloth of her dress and in the warm, honeyed scent of her arousal. In the way her breathing came hard and fast as she faced him with a mixture of confusion and passion clouding her features.
Sarange moved first, wrapping her arms tight around Khan’s neck and pulling his lips down to hers. She kissed him hard and hungry, claiming his lips as anger and lust powered through them both. Khan was helpless. No matter how hard he tried to resist, his need for her was too strong. His large hands seized her toned buttocks through the cloth of her dress, squeezing hard as he pulled her tight against him.
It was more conflict than kiss as Sarange squirmed desperately in his hold, her hands clawing at his shoulders. Their mouths clashed, tongues fighting, caressing, battling for supremacy. Khan was instantly rock hard, harder than he’d ever been. As he pressed his erection into the soft curve of her belly, Sarange moaned and broke free.
A dozen conflicting thoughts chased around in Khan’s head as, breathing hard, they glared at each other.
Tigers and wolves...cats and dogs. How can she not know?
Make her leave.
Beg her to stay.
Kiss her again. This time make it last forever.
Just as he lifted a hand to slide it behind her head and draw her back to him, Sarange stalked out of the room.
Sarange didn’t know what she was feeling. So many emotions were competing for dominance inside her she couldn’t begin to single out or categorize any individual one. Generally, her temperament was even. She didn’t have mood swings. Yet after one brief encounter with Khan, her senses were swaying like a barometer needle in changing weather.
It was a relief to reach her dressing room without encountering anyone who wanted to talk to her. As the concert had approached, the demands on her time had increased. In the past few weeks, she had barely had a minute to call her own. Tonight had been a whirlwind of questions, requests and suggestions, all of which appeared to require her personal intervention.
Sarange had endless patience. It was part of her makeup. Her birth parents, whoever they were, must have bequeathed it to her with their genes. But right now she didn’t want to cope with someone else’s problems. Even for the sake of Animals Alive, the organization that had been her life’s work for so long. The thought caused her a pang of guilt, and she managed to quell it. Just for once, she was going to put duty aside. She was going to spend a little time alone analyzing what had just happened to her.
How had she managed to let the most arrogant, infuriating man she had ever met get to her? And by “get to me” I mean turn me on so much I almost burst into flames. Just the thought of how Khan made her feel had her breath catching in her throat and a renewed thrill of desire pulsing through her body.
What is wrong with me? She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, releasing a long sigh. Despite his devastating looks, Khan was not her type. She didn’t like overtly dominant men. Sarange had no desire to settle down. Now and then, she speculated about the reason. Did she have abandonment issues linked to her strange past? By ensuring she was the stronger partner in any relationship, was she making sure she couldn’t be hurt? Although it made a strange kind of sense, she didn’t feel it was a valid explanation for her choices. Perhaps she was just cold-hearted? It wasn’t something that affected her strongly enough to probe deeply.
Now she thought about it, her brief relationships had all been with men who conformed to a certain category. Undemanding was the first word that came to mind. Did she deliberately choose partners who wouldn’t challenge her? It wasn’t a question she had considered until now, and she didn’t like it. Didn’t want to start psychoanalyzing herself just because Khan had strutted onto her horizon. So what if, up to now, I’ve chosen sweet, considerate guys? The sort any woman would have no problem taking home to meet Mom and Dad?
Not that Sarange had a mom and dad. She had an uncle and aunt who did the same job. She tried to picture taking Khan home to meet Bek and Gerel Tsedev. The thought made her choke back a laugh. It was never going to happen, but the image was amusing.
It wasn’t just his arrogance that triggered a warning about Khan. It was the way he stripped away her control, and did it with such relish. Wolf girl. That was what he had called her. What had he meant by it? One thing was for sure, it wasn’t a compliment. The tone of his voice had been scathing, while the look in his eyes had scalded her. She assumed he meant she liked to be in charge. He had judged her on first impressions, likening her to the leader of a pack. It was a curious analogy, but their encounter had hardly been conventional. If she hadn’t walked out when she did, heaven alone knew what would have happened next. She had a feeling it would have led to passion beyond her wildest imagination followed by a world of regret.