In this scene from The Killing Moon, Dana Gray interrogates Cole Randall. Well, attempts to. This is the first time she’s seen him since she escaped from him six months ago.
Her hands lurched off her lap, across the table. And then she was touching him. His fingers were warm.
â€œYou ran from me, beautiful,â€ he said, caressing her knuckles.
â€œYou were trying to kill me.â€
â€œNo.â€ His gaze was intense. â€œNot anymore. Not after what happened. You and I are connected now, donâ€™t you see?â€
She snatched her hands back. â€œI donâ€™t want to talk about it.â€ She wasnâ€™t connected to him. She couldnâ€™t be.
â€œI canâ€™t stop thinking about you, Dana. I think about you when I wake up. I think about you before I go to sleep. Iâ€”â€
â€œStop.â€ She didnâ€™t need to hear this. She needed to get the topic back to the reason she came. She needed to take control here. That was what Cole always robbed her of. Control. If she could direct the conversation, maybe she could stay on top of her feelingsâ€”her very strange, very disturbing feelings. She squared her shoulders, sucking in a deep breath. â€œSo, what did you want to say about the rogues? How could you help?â€
â€œDonâ€™t tell me you arenâ€™t thinking about me too. I knowâ€”â€
He sighed. â€œTheyâ€™re connected. Iâ€™m surprised you didnâ€™t see it. But maybe you werenâ€™t looking.â€
â€œConnected? They live in different states. They have nothing in common.â€
He shook his head. â€œI know who they are.â€
â€œSay you do. What does it matter? Theyâ€™re going to be locked up for doing it on purpose no matter what.â€
â€œAre you sure they did it on purpose?â€
â€œThey admitted that.â€
â€œAccording to the news reports I saw, they admitted only that they knew how to control their wolves on a full moon.â€
Dana sat back in her chair. â€œIf they could control themselves, and they didnâ€™t control themselves, then it means they did it on purpose.â€
Cole raised his eyebrows. â€œDoes it?â€
â€œDonâ€™t play games with me. You either know something, or you donâ€™t.â€
Coleâ€™s voice dropped several octaves. â€œI needed to see you. I thought maybe you needed to see me too.â€
She felt the words like lightning, coursing through her, making her feel weak, but also lit up, awake. She wished she was touching him again. She wished the table wasnâ€™t between them. She wished there was nothing between them. Nothing at all.
Yes, I needed to see you. Yes, all I need is to see you. I need you, Cole. I need you. What have you done to me?
She held his gaze, and she was sure he could see her response written on her face. He drew in a long, slow breath, like he was savoring her, tasting her.
She couldnâ€™t let this go on. She was supposed to be in control. Even talking about work, only work, heâ€™d wormed his way inside, taken over. She had to stop it.
She got out of the chair. â€œSo youâ€™ve got nothing, in other words. Youâ€™re wasting my time.â€ Her voice was disdainful. Good.
Donâ€™t notice how tightly you have me wrapped around your finger, Cole. Please, think I hate you. Believe I despise you.
â€œYou did need to see me.â€ He wasnâ€™t asking.
Oh, God, if she didnâ€™t get out of here, she was going to lose it. That hypnotic voice of his was going to undo her. She didnâ€™t know what she might do. She stalked to the door.
â€œDo you think about me, Dana?â€
She looked at him, her blood starting to thrum just beneath the surface of her skin.
â€œI think about you constantly. I think about touching you again.â€ His voice was a purr, sweet, soft, and liquid.
â€œShut up.â€ She choked on the word. She had to get away from him. She had to stop whatever spell he had on her. She tried to turn the knob on the door, but it was locked.
â€œYou have incredible skin.â€
She cringed, but something inside her loved that. Something inside her uncurled, stretched out, and preened. There was a part of her that craved his praise. She banged on the door.
â€œThink about that later tonight, when youâ€™re lying in bed alone. Think about my fingers on your skin. My lips on your skin.â€
â€œBrooks, damn it, open the door!â€
The door opened. She threw herself out of the room.
â€œDana,â€ called Cole. â€œLook for the connection. Youâ€™re going to feel so stupid to have missed it.â€ He was laughing. God, he was laughing, and the sound was echoing into her ears, recording itself.
She slammed the door on his laughter, and it cut off. â€œFuck.â€
She wantedâ€”more than anythingâ€”to open the door again. Closing herself off from him felt like losing a limb.