The plan, in theory, is simple. Use Sylus'...unfortunate cat affliction as a means of drawing out your target in international waters. Biological Evolvers are rare; it's virtually guaranteed to work.

Except Sylus doesn't really know how to be someone else's pet. Doesn't want to, either. And he's not particularly thrilled at being "trained" in the art of serving some woman he's never met. Anyone who isn't you.

"My master, are you really doing this so some woman can have me?"

But of course the point of that question goes over your pretty little head. More nonsense about oh, what if "Snowy Owl" doesn't want you? What about the mission? Frankly, Snowy Owl can jump overboard for all he cares. Or mysteriously "fall". Too bad the twins aren't here, that would've been convenient.

No, this about something else.

His hand darts out, hooking smoothly around the back of your knee to pull you toward the edge of the sofa; slotting himself between your legs like it's his birthright. Even on his knees he towers over you, his other hand capturing your chin and securing your gaze.

"You thought I was talking about that? What's wrong with your head?" His thumb brushes over your lower lip, a slow press that keeps your eyes on his. The infinite patience he usually has feels so thin now; must be a side effect of the Caracal genes spliced into him. He feels...on edge. Like the only thing that can make him better is you and your scent and no more talk of being used as bait. "No, it's that I don't recall ever agreeing to this little plan of yours."

Gloved fingertips drift up your thigh, then the line of your spine as he leans in close, drawing a slow circle between your shoulders. This feels right, being here with you. Like hell he wants to be dangled in front of some strange woman like a treat. He wants to be yours. The slightest pressure from his hand tilts you toward him, close enough now to feel the warmth of his breath as he lets out a sigh.

"Either way...do you actually not care if I become someone else's cat?"