Page 6

“That’s just—that’s biology,” I stammered. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything,” Cade murmured, leaning closer. His scent enveloped me—cedar and rain and something uniquely him. “You’re ours, Finn. You’ve always been ours. Running away didn’t change that.”

“I’m not property,” I managed, though my voice sounded weak even to my own ears.

“No,” he agreed. “You belong with us. And we’re taking you home where you belong.”

I made one last desperate attempt, lunging for the door handle. Cade caught me around the waist and hauled me back against his chest. His arms formed an iron cage around me, immobilizing me without hurting.

“Enough,” he growled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Let me go!” I thrashed against his hold, but it was like fighting a brick wall. At five foot six to his towering six-foot-four frame, I was completely overpowered. My slender artist’s build was no match for the solid mass of muscle that made up Cade Sinclair.

“Never again,” he said, his mouth against my ear, his massive arms easily encircling my entire torso. “We let you go once. We won’t make that mistake twice.”

His breath on my skin sent shivers down my spine, and I hated how my body melted against him, responding to his dominance despite my mind’s protests. The sheer size difference between us made resistance futile, but I fought it anyway, fought the instinct to submit, to bare my throat, to accept what he was offering.

“I hate you,” I whispered, the words lacking any real conviction.

“No, you don’t,” Cade said, his voice gentling as he adjusted his hold, cradling me against him rather than restraining. “You’re afraid. There’s a difference.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I lied.

“Not of us,” he corrected. “Of what’s between us. Of what you feel when we’re near.”

His hand stroked down my arm, soothing, possessive. Against my will, I relaxed into his embrace, my head falling back against his shoulder. His scent surrounded me, familiar and comforting despite everything.

“That’s it,” he murmured, approval rumbling in his chest. “Let go, little fox.”

“Don’t call me that,” I protested weakly.

“Why not? It’s what you are.” His lips brushed my temple, so lightly I might have imagined it. “Our beautiful fox. So clever at hiding, so quick to run. But we’ve got you now.”

Logan’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, dark with the same hunger I saw in Cade’s. “And we’re never letting you go again.”

The certainty in their voices should have terrified me. Instead, something deep inside—something I’d been denying for years—unfurled with a purr of satisfaction.

I closed my eyes, fighting the traitorous thoughts. “This isn’t over.”

“No,” Cade agreed, his arms tightening around me. “It’s just beginning.”

As the SUV carried us out of Seattle, I realized we were heading toward the interstate—not toward my apartment.

“Wait,” I said, pushing against Cade’s chest. “My stuff—my paintings, my supplies?—”

“Already taken care of,” Cade replied, his arms still firmly around me.

“What does that mean?” I twisted to look at him. “You can’t just leave all my work!”

Logan’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Keir’s at your apartment now. He’s packing everything.”

“Keir is in my—” I sputtered. “You broke into my apartment?”

“We have a key,” Cade said simply.

“A key? How do you have a key to my—” I stopped, the implications sinking in. “You’ve been in my apartment before. While I wasn’t there.”

Neither of them denied it.