Page 25 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

I can tell she's scared, but I'll be damned if she even shows an ounce of it. Slowly, she gives each dog a treat. I want them to get to know her so that she can stroll through the property like everyone else.

The dogs have been trained to tear intruders apart, and they don't distinguish between men and women.

People always say dogs are smart, that they know who is a threat and who isn't, and maybe that's true for other breeds, but my Shepherd's protective instincts have been honed over many generations.

They will protect whoever I tell them to protect and tolerate who I tell them to tolerate; anybody else… they will tear apart.

"Can I… can I pet them?" Cat asks.

The dogs weren't really bred for petting, love, and affection, but I nod, knowing that women feel a lot differently about that kind of thing than men do. Carefully, she pets Boris over his flank.

Surprised, she looks at me. "He's so soft."

Shepherds shed like a motherfucker, which is something my mother can't abide. The dogs aren't allowed in the house, despite their weekly grooming, but I take pride in them having the kind of coat that makes other dogs look homeless.

She looks delectable, standing there in a pair of pajama pants and a simple t-shirt, with the V neck of her robe exposing the swells of her breasts.

I've seen, met, and fucked many beautiful women, but none of them had it all like Cat does.

The long legs, the slim waist, the rounded ass, and tits just the right size.

That's not all of it, though; her long, swanlike neck holds me captivated as much as the elegant curve of her collarbones.

Every move she makes is like a symphony, full of grace and confidence, despite how she grew up.

She lowers herself to her knees, having grown more comfortable around the canines.

Boris leans forward and slobbers all over her face with a wet kiss.

"Boris," I scold him.

"It's okay," Cat laughs. It's not the laugh I expected. Not the nervous kind, not forced. It's soft and clear and completely unguarded. Like sunlight through a cracked window. It robs me of breath. Because in a world full of blood and shadows, I don't hear laughter like that.

It's not just the sound. It's what it does to me. It makes me want to protect that laugh. Keep it safe. Cage it from the world so nothing ever takes it away. God help me, but I'd kill to hear it again.

"They don't like to be hugged," I warn, but she already has her arms slung around Boris, who gives me a look to tell me how much this is putting him out. But he's tolerating it much better than I thought he would.

"Oh, they're adorable."

I help Cat up, and the moment our fingers meet, electricity runs through my veins straight into my cock.

"Cat," I say, looking down at her.

Right then, clouds decide to move aside, and the full moon reflects in her pupils so stunningly, I lose my breath, again. I could get lost in them. I almost bend down to kiss her, but then Sally barks and rips me from the moment.

"Oh," Cat laughs. "I didn't mean to interrupt you guys. You probably have some kind of program?"

Indeed, we do. I can't do it every night, but I enjoy spending time with the dogs and reinforcing our training. That and some playtime, of course. An idea occurs to me. "Come, I think you'll like this."

Our family business is gambling and arms trafficking.

Not all arms are guns; hence, I breed Shepherds.

My parents indulge this little side business of mine.

Being with the dogs evens me out some. It's not bringing much money in, despite one puppy going for as much as ten grand.

But it's a front, and it has earned me the goodwill of many businessmen.

And some of their wives as well. Having a wife's support goes a long way in making deals.

I don't know why, but I take Cat's hand and lead her to the kennels located on the east side of the property.

It feels right. Her skin is warm in my hand, and oh so small and fragile.

It wouldn't take much of a squeeze to break all her little birdlike bones.

Looking down at her slim body, I marvel at how tiny she is.

I need to be careful with her; the last thing I want to do is hurt her.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Amber eyes look up at me. "Hurt me?"

"When I tackled you to the ground earlier," I clarify, fighting the panic that once more tries to sneak up inside of me at the thought of how easily she or Izzy could have been killed.

"Oh," she shakes her head. "No, not at all. Thank you, by the way. You saved me."

And I would do it again and again , I silently swear, getting lost in her eyes. So clear and yet so enigmatic. How can something so small be so fierce and brave?

Another rush of gratefulness spreads through me. Her saving Izzy from that house was an act of bravery that few men I know would have attempted, given her situation.

"Was it the Giordanos who attacked us?" She asks, with a slight tremor in her voice.

"Roberto," I reply

"Oh. What's going to happen?" Cat inquires.

The dogs trail us until we reach the large barn and then take off toward it.

A long time ago, the barn was used for horses, but I had it transformed into a kennel to house about forty German Shepherds.

Half of them I keep for breeding purposes, and the others patrol the property day and night.

Five trainers and caregivers are assigned to the barn; two of them live in the apartments I ordered to be added.

I lead Cat inside the well-lit area. In a little while, the lights will be turned off, but right now, it's dinner time.

"Good evening, Mister Sartori." Julio greets me, holding two bowls of raw meat mixed with sweet potatoes.

"Signorina," he smiles politely at Cat, which causes my blood pressure to rise without me having any idea why.

Realistically, I realize he is only trying to be polite, but a strange sense of possessiveness grips me when I'm around my guest. I tell myself it's because she saved Izzy, but deep down, I sense this is a lie.

I always surround myself with beautiful women and bathe in the admiration they receive from other men. I love it when others covet what's mine. Not with Cat, though. To put it in simple terms: Julio's well-meant pleasantry pisses me off.

Neither do I like the delay in showing her the reason we are here, but since we are, I need to know, "How is Lolita?"

"She's getting better. Anka took over some of her puppies to feed," Julio informs me.

Cat looks around the remodeled barn curiously. Dog toys lay scattered after a day of dog leisure, reminiscent of a daycare. No dog waste is seen inside, and besides a few muddy paw prints, the floor is pristine.

Each kennel is paneled with wood but features a narrow Plexiglas window, allowing the dogs to see outside if they wish or enjoy the privacy of the paneled area.

Clean mattresses and bowls of fresh water fill each one.

Right now, all the doors are open, but later, Julio will close most of them; only the ones patrolling the yard will stay open.

"May I?" Cat asks, curiosity overcoming her skittishness; she points at one of the kennels.

"Don't go inside," I warn. The dogs are well-trained, but they're also extremely territorial.

I watch her looking through the Plexiglas, taking in the inside.

Her lips curve up in a sign of approval, and a weight drops off my chest. One I didn't even know was there.

But for some reason, I want her to like this place.

Cat returns, and her head tilts slightly. "You care for them."

I nod. "Of course I do. I care for everyone under my protection, which includes my dogs."

She is about to say something, but a yapping sound reaches us, and her eyes widen. "Puppies?"

I grin and nod.

With a small cry, she races toward the sound. I nod at Julio to go on and start the feeding, then follow her. By a closed kennel, she stops. Inside, Anka is feeding her six puppies and five of Lolita's. Anka's are six weeks old, and Lolita's are eleven.

"Dio mio, they are adorable," Cat exclaims predictably.

I stand next to her and watch the puppies squirm around Anka.

I've always loved German Shepherds; my dad swore by the breed, and I've always been around them.

But my interest in them doesn't usually start until they're around three months, when I can start training them.

And then it's their mind that intrigues me, not their looks.

Puppies… I could do without. They're loud, noisy, and messy. They constantly want attention and to be played with. But I'm not above using them to impress Cat, who seems mesmerized by them.

"Do you want to go in?"

Her eyes turn as big as saucers. "May I?"

I open the door and lead her in. This kennel is larger to accommodate the mothers, and a removable barrier divides Anka's section from Lolita's, which is currently open.

Anka lifts her head but is too weary to pay us much attention.

She trusts me, and she trusts that I won't bring anybody here who would harm the puppies.

I pull Cat down on the floor with me. "Just wait."

It doesn't take long for the first one to finish his meal and come toddling toward us. His little tail is wagging, and small noises escape him as he makes his way to Cat.

It's not him I watch, though. It's her. Cat. Her features turn soft, and the smile curving her lips is nearly ethereal. Slowly, she holds out her hand, and the puppy licks it.

Attracted by something the puppies haven't experienced, one by one, they abandon Anka and make their way toward us. An especially feisty one barks at me, his tail going a hundred miles an hour.

A small giggle that sounds like a symphony to my ears turns my attention back to Cat.