3
Sarah spentthe next two days much like the first. Cullen barely spoke, which reassured her more than his earlier attempts at conversation had. He spent much of his time outside in the barn he called his workspace while she slept and relaxed into better health.
Shifting from injured bird to human had sped her healing, but Sarah’s wounds were deep. Jenny was such a bitch; she deserved to be married to Dennis. Sarah smirked at the memory of her shrieking as Cullen sank his claws into her.
She still couldn’t believe he’d done that. Interfering with a clan leader’s mate wouldn’t put Cullen in high standing. She feared he’d get into trouble because of her. But would Jenny risk the clan knowing she and four others had gone after Sarah? Though Jenny would likely receive no more than a slap on the wrist for involving others in her fight, Sarah doubted the woman would want her name and Sarah’s linked, for any reason. Bad enough her pride had been pricked that anyone thought her husband had screwed Sarah Duncan,nobody extraordinaire.
“God, I hate when I pity myself.” Sarah slowly stood from the couch and stretched, her newly healed muscles protesting the strain.
Large hands settled on her shoulders, scaring the bejesus out of her. She screamed and would have pulled away, but Cullen wouldn’t let go.
“Easy,” he murmured, kneading the tension from her shoulders. “You okay?”
“Thanks for the heart attack,” she snapped, hoping he’d step away. This attraction for Mr. Strong and Silent was growing. She couldn’t be within two feet of the man without wanting him. Her nipples hardened, her stomach quivered, and her sex grew wet with want. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she was in heat.
Thankfully, raptors didn’t have heats like some of the other animal clans did. Which made her reaction to Cullen more baffling, because her bird felt the attraction as much as the human half of her did. With Will, her sexual experience had been fully human—enthralling, exciting, and ultimately disappointing. She had the strangest notion that sex with Cullen would be anything but.
“Easy,” he said again. His hands smoothed her shoulders while avoiding her injury, his fingers pushing into the very tops of her breasts.
His touch shot sparks through her body. Her sex responded by drenching her panties. He stilled, and she wished she could see behind her. His hold made it impossible for her to turn around.
“Feel better?” he asked in that gravelly voice that once again soothed her need for flight.
Without realizing it, she leaned back against him. “Better,” she murmured, wanting his hands lower. Her nipples ached, needing to be touched. Her bra and shirt did nothing but stifle the sensitive flesh, when with just a touch of Cullen’s hot mouth, Sarah knew she could—
She leaped forward, thoroughly horrified by her erotic thoughts.
“You okay?”
She turned to see him frown. Thankfully, his gaze remained on her face.
“Fine. Just fine.” She forced a smile and glanced beyond him at the small mantle clock. “You done for the day, then?”
He nodded.
“Would you like me to make dinner tonight?” she asked. They’d fallen into a comfortable routine. Cullen worked outside most of the day—and why he’d said he needed company when he was never in the house she didn’t know—coming in sporadically to check on her. He fixed them breakfast and lunch, simple meals that tasted fantastic. What that man could do with egg noodles, vegetables and roast beef was amazing.
“Relax.” His gaze traveled down her front, as she’d feared. She could have sworn his eyes narrowed on her breasts, but he blinked and turned away so fast she might have imagined it. “I’ll cook.”
Once again, the man of few words disappeared, which was just what she wanted. So why did his absences disturb her? Cullen had invited—nearly demanded—that she recuperate with him in his house, then went out of his way to avoid her. It didn’t make sense. During the time she’d spent alone in the house, she’d poked and peered through enough to know he spoke the truth about not having a wife and living with his family.
Most Ac-taw lived in groups. The raptors and foxes had the largest population in upper Montana, next to the gray wolves. Many raptor families lived together as a unit, like Cullen and his family. She knew he had three other brothers, but she’d never met them or his mother in the diner. During her snooping ventures, she’d seen all of their bedrooms.
The house boasted two floors and six thousand square feet. Cullen had given her a brief tour that first day, introducing her to a den, a spacious living room, a kitchen with an adjacent dining area, and a surprisingly modern media room. Located up in the mountains, the house also had a large porch doubling as a perch. She could easily imagine the family shifting and flying up into the sky from such a place.
On the second floor, there were six bedrooms, and another three on the main floor. A lot of space for five people. Fivestrangers. Sarah couldn’t help being glad Cullen’s family was away. It was hard enough to trust Cullen, despite the fact he’d been nothing but kind to her—when he’d been around.
Pots and pans clattered in the kitchen, drawing her attention. Wanting to watch him in action, Sarah disregarded the idea to keep her distance, a safe enough response, and drew closer to the man that wouldn’t leave her thoughts. In the short time she’d spent in Cullen’s home, she’d only grown more captivated by him.
He was short on words and long on action. He rose early each morning and went to bed early as well. He worked long hours in his converted barn, but was courteous enough to continue to feed her. His wounded bird, she thought with ill humor. It was important to her that he see her as an independent woman, something he’d never do if he continued to wait on her whenever he was in the house.
“Cullen, I can help,” she offered when she saw him sautéing what looked like chicken in a cast-iron skillet.
“Sit down.”
His curt tone didn’t bother her, though she didn’t know why. The man had little in the way of manners, though his actions showed him to be a considerate host.
Sarah sighed and sat at the centered kitchen island. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re bossy?”
