«You killed him!» Shannon cried. «Damn you, Whip! You killed him!»

«Hell,» Whip said in disgust. «If I’d wanted to kill him, I would have broken his neck when he jumped me.»

Wordlessly Shannon shook her head, denying Whip’s words. Sobbing quietly, she tried to go to Prettyface, only to find her way barred by Whip’s hard arm.

«He’s not dead,» Whip said roughly. «Look at his flank. He’s breathing just fine now that my fingers are off his windpipe.»

Hurriedly Shannon wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked at Prettyface. The dog’s flank was indeed rising and falling slowly, dragging air back into his lungs.

«Thank God,» she whispered.

Shannon tried to go forward again, and again found her way barred by Whip.

«Go stand by the stove,» he said.

«But I want to —»

«Right now what you want doesn’t matter a whole lot,» Whip interrupted, his voice harsh. «You had your turn at controlling this beast and you couldn’t do it. It’s my turn now.»

«But —»

Whip looked up at Shannon.

«Move,» he said softly.

Too softly.

«Don’t hurt him any more,» Shannon pleaded. But she was backing toward the stove while she spoke. Like Whip’s voice, his eyes were calm, clear, and cold as a dagger made of ice.

Prettyface whimpered and tried to raise his head. Instantly Whip was there, holding the dog’s head against the floor, making it impossible for Prettyface to regain his feet.

«Easy,» Whip said in a gentle tone. «Before you get up and start feeling feisty again, focus those damned throwback eyes on me and know who’s head wolf around here.»

Prettyface whined softly. He blinked his yellow wolf’s eyes and looked around to see what was holding him down.

The dog met Whip’s eyes, recognized him, held the man’s glance for the space of a breath…and then Prettyface looked away, silently acknowledging that Whip was the master.

Nor did the dog attempt to get up again.

«That’s it, Prettyface,» Whip said, stroking the dog’s head gently. «I knew you were a damn sight smarter than you looked. All you needed was proof that you weren’t the master.»

Prettyface whined and tentatively midged Whip’s hand.

«Hello, boy,» Whip murmured, rubbing the dog’s head, reassuring him. «We’re going to get along a lot better from now on, aren’t we?»

A long, rough tongue swept over Whip’s bloody hand.

«Like that, do you?» Whip laughed. «You’re a hell of a fighter, Prettyface. Now you need to learn how to be a partner, too.»

When Whip’s fingers ran over every inch of Prettyface’s body, the dog stiffened, but he didn’t object in any other way to the man’s touch. Even when Whip probed between the sensitive pads on the dog’s feet, Prettyface didn’t so much as growl.

Shannon was shocked.

«All right, Prettyface,» Whip said, rubbing the dog’s ears affectionately. «I think you got the point. You take orders around here. You don’t give them.»

Whip came off the floor with a catlike grace that was startling in such a big man. The bullwhip was still in his left hand, still coiled.

«Up you go, boy,» Whip said.

Prettyface came to his feet, shook himself thoroughly, and looked at Whip.

Whip opened the cabin door.

«Go out and rustle your breakfast instead of trying to eat me,» Whip suggested dryly.

Prettyface looked once at Shannon, then trotted outside. Whip shut the door.

«You broke his spirit,» she said hoarsely.

«No, I just —»

«You’re like the Culpeppers,» Shannon interrupted wildly.

Her voice was cold. Her body shook with rage and fear and the aftermath of too much adrenaline.

«The hell I —» began Whip.

«You’re cruel and you’re brutal. You force anything weaker than you to grovel at your feet!»

Whip took one gliding step toward Shannon, then another. His eyes were like hammered silver. Blood dripped from cuts on his left hand.

He looked as dangerous as he was.

Shannon’s heartbeat doubled, but she didn’t back up one step. She couldn’t. She didn’t trust her legs to hold her.

«Prettyface,» Whip said softly, coldly, «is a spoiled, savage mongrel that weighs more than most men. He has too much wolf in him to understand anything from a man but force. So I beat him at his own game. Force. Now he’ll accept me.»

Shannon’s chin came up defiantly, but she was smart enough not to say a word. Whip was right and both of them knew it. She just didn’t like hearing it put so bluntly.

«As for the rest of your tirade,» Whip said, «when you give yourself to me — and you will — it won’t be because I choked you into submission. If that was all I wanted, I would have killed Prettyface the first time I walked into the cabin. Then I would have thrown you down on the floor and raped you.»

A small sound came from the back of Shannon’s throat as she understood the raw truth of Whip’s statement. Deep inside, she had always assumed it was Prettyface’s snarling presence that had kept Whip from touching her in any way at all.

Now Shannon knew how badly she had misread the situation. Whip was as smart and quick as he was strong.

And he was frighteningly strong.

«But that isn’t what I want from you,» Whip said, his voice lethally calm.

«Wh —» Shannon’s voice broke.

She licked her dry lips, took a quick breath, and tried again.

«What d-do you want from me?» she asked.

At first Shannon didn’t think Whip would answer. Then he took one last, gliding stride toward her. When he stopped, he was so close to Shannon that she couldn’t take a breath without her breasts touching his hard chest.

Slowly, giving Shannon every chance to flinch away, Whip lifted his hands to her face.

She didn’t move. She simply watched him with eyes that were both wary and defiant.

The bullwhip he still carried in his left hand caressed Shannon’s cheek so lightly it felt more like a breath than a touch. The supple leather coils traced her eyebrows, the straight line of her nose, her high cheekbones.

It was the last thing Shannon had expected from Whip. The touches were so gentle she barely felt them. They shouted of Whip’s restraint.

And they teased her even as they reassured her.

She closed her eyes, wanting to concentrate on the elusive, shimmering sensations that shivered through her body. She took in a quick breath and smelled the wood smoke and evergreen on Whip, as well as the primal, disturbing scent of blood.

«Whip?» Shannon whispered through trembling lips.

His wrist flicked and the leather coils vanished. A vague thump told Shannon that the bullwhip had landed on the floor.

Whip took the shotgun from her hands and uncocked it with a few swift, easy motions. When he replaced the weapon on its pegs over the door, Shannon numbly noted that there was blood on both of his hands.

Whip saw the look on her face when he turned back to her.

«It’s all right, honey girl,» he said. «You don’t need the shotgun. I won’t hurt you. I’m just trying to answer your question about what I want from you. But I don’t have any words to tell you…»

Callused fingertips lightly traced Shannon’s hairline, the rims of her ears, the dense mahogany eyelashes quivering against her cheek, the trembling line of her lips, the pulse beating frantically in her throat.

«Are you truly afraid of me?» Whip asked huskily.

Shannon shook her head. «N-no.»

«You ought to be.»

«Why?»

«I want what I first saw in your walk,» he said simply.

«I–I don’t understand.»

«Neither do I. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you, all at once, no thought, no caution, no right or wrong, nothing but a hard need riding me all day, every day. And the nights…Jesus. The nights are pure, undiluted hell.»

Shannon tried to speak. No words came out of her dry throat.

Whip’s thumbs traced her mouth, caressing it as intimately as a kiss. Her softness lured him, and her heat, and the ragged sigh she finally gave, a sigh that was also his name.