Visions of Heat by Nalini Singh Page B

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 tasted . He’d never seen any woman do that with the intensity of Faith, never been so aware of the inherent sensuality in the act.
    “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