“What’s that like?”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Being a family.”

Such a simple question, but it fed the rage building beneath the ice. He had to work at controlling the shimmer. Around him the faint, nearly transparent veil thickened, taking the air out of the room. Several men coughed.

Take a breath, Wyatt advised.

This is fucked up, Wyatt. But he took the breath. Killing everyone around him wasn’t going to help her. He made himself breathe. Deep and even. Finding a rhythm. Letting the ice inside consume him. He knew he was broken on the inside. He’d accepted that premise a long time ago and then used it as his strength. Cayenne hadn’t had a chance. Living in a fucking lab. What the hell was that? Who would do that to a child?

“Were there other women?” he prompted. “Like Pepper, Wyatt’s wife. Did you get to see them? Talk to them?”

She shook her head and rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if she were cold.

Trap took the jacket from where it was hanging on the back of his chair and wrapped it around her. She looked startled. Looked as if she might protest. She didn’t. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and held it close to her. It was his favorite jacket. He wore it a lot. That meant his scent was all over it. Now his scent surrounded her. There was a certain satisfaction in that.

Trap never thought that he’d ever be in this position. He had accepted that he wouldn’t have a woman of his own. He wasn’t that boy anymore. He had made himself into something dangerous. Something lethal. He knew some of the GhostWalkers were concerned with the experiments done on them with the DNA of animals, but he was stronger and faster, and he’d always been strong and fast. Now he was a predator, and he needed to be. He was actively hunting his uncles. His friends were like him. They were building fortresses in order to survive any attack on them or their families. Let his uncles come for the woman that meant something. He would be ready for them.

He’d been prepared to send Cayenne away. To find a way to reverse what Whitney had done, but the moment she’d stepped through the door of the bar, he knew he wouldn’t do that. He didn’t have anything or anyone who mattered to him other than his teammates. Unexpectedly, Cayenne was very important to him, and the more he learned about her life, the more he was determined to make the rest of it something else altogether.

He wasn’t certain why she would be paired with him, but there was one thing all the GhostWalkers were certain of – the pairings worked. The couples worked as a team in the field. They were extremely physically compatible, and all of them had developed incredibly strong emotional attachments.

Trap hadn’t thought himself capable of emotional attachments for a long time – until he met Wyatt at the university and then his GhostWalker team. He had chosen to follow Wyatt into the military because he wanted the psychic enhancements. He was grateful for the physical as well. He was determined to find his uncles and kill them. He would hunt them until the day he died. That had been his reason – to turn himself into a weapon – even more of one than he’d already made himself.

“Trap.” She said his name low. Her voice a caress. A soothing rasp of velvet over his skin. Trap. She moved inside his mind much more intimately. “What is it? What is making you so upset?”

He stared at her in astonishment. He hadn’t changed expression. He’d been extremely careful that the cloud around them stayed thin. Nothing should have betrayed his emotions. How had she known?

Deliberately he ignored her question. “You wanted to know what a family is like. Wyatt’s grandmother always has something on the stove cooking. She has music playing in the house and she dances with the girls. Pepper, Wyatt’s wife, dances now as well. The house always feels welcoming…”

Cayenne shook her head. “Not Wyatt’s family, Trap. Yours. What is your family like?”

His heart jerked hard in his chest. He didn’t want to lie to her. Or scare her. He’d shot his own father. Deliberately. He’d been nine years old, and he would have killed his uncles if he could have as well. What did he tell her? His woman. She had a right to know the danger she faced when gave herself to him – and she was going to give herself to him. He would accept nothing less.

“My family is Wyatt and the team, Cayenne. I don’t have anyone else.”

“But you did,” she persisted. “You were born into a family, not taken from an orphanage and put in a lab or, like me, made in a test tube.”

He sighed. “I tell you this, baby, and you’re going to run for the hills. I don’t want you to do that. How about I promise I tell you after the first time you let me have you. Once I’ve been inside you, once I’ve claimed you for my own, it will give me a fighting chance that you’ll stay with me.”

There was a short silence. “You know about my childhood. It’s only fair to tell me about yours.”

“I’ll give you this, Cayenne, you’ll know the worst of me, what I’m capable of, what I was born capable of doing, not what anyone shaped me into.”

She reached out, and this time, she was the one who took his hand. “Tell me.”

He shook his head. “I’m not sharing that fucked-up shit with you before you commit to me.” He had to change the subject and turned the spotlight back on her. “Coming here, choosing victims and robbing them is not okay. You know that, and you can’t keep doing it. These men may not be enhanced, but sooner or later, you’re going to slip up and you’ll make a mistake. Then you’ll have to kill an innocent to defend yourself or they’ll kill you.”

“I have to eat,” she whispered. “Do you think I want to rob people? I make certain whoever I choose is someone who deserves a little payback.”

“If you want to eat, you come to Wyatt’s. His grandmother would welcome you. If you don’t want to do that, come to me. Tell me what you need.”

Her green eyes flashed bright, anger stirring. Pride. “I don’t need your charity, Trap. I don’t want it.” She picked up the origami crane he’d made from the paper he’d scribbled formulas on.

“It isn’t charity,” he hissed. “Why are you being so damned stubborn? I’m not going to hurt you.”

“No, but I could hurt you.” She glanced down at the crane, started to say something and then noticed the writing along the wing. “P = #AR. HYP.” She didn’t ask a question, but she repeated it softly as if musing out loud. Very carefully she unfolded the crane, revealing Trap’s formula and his assessment.