A collection of women designed to create super children? Marna shook her head, still not fully understanding, then realized he couldn’t see the movement. “I thought it was supposed to be hard for shifters to have children.” Otherwise, the world would be overrun with them because their genetics made them far superior to average mortals. Survival of the fittest would kick into overdrive, and the human population would be nearly erased.

His hand slowly unclenched. “Some women are . . . better matches than others.”

Mates. Not some heart link, no matter what tales she’d heard whispered over the centuries. For shifters, mating was a biological link. The beasts recognized the women who would be compatible enough to create offspring with them.

Tanner turned to face her. “Trust me, there were plenty of women who couldn’t conceive. He got rid of them fast enough.”

Marna flinched. Evil. There was no other word for Tanner’s father. She’d seen some beings like him in her time. No good inside. Hollow. Rancid. Rotting with their greed and dark fury.

“Three women were matches for him,” Tanner said. “An angel. A psychic. And a demon.”

Marna stepped toward him. She wanted to touch him. To offer comfort in some way because he seemed to be in pain. Not physically, but . . .

I can still feel his pain.

“Then once my father had his hybrids, he set to work making sure we wouldn’t be a damn bit like our mothers. He wanted any power boost his kids could get from such different mothers, but when it came to actions, hell, he only wanted us to be just like him.”

Now she did go to him. Marna crossed to his side, and her hands curled around his arms. “But you’re not like him.”

“Brandt was. My brother was exactly like him. He enjoyed the pain and the rage as much as my old man ever did.”

She wanted to shake him. So she did. Hard. He barely moved. “You’re not like them!”

His head sagged forward. She needed to see his eyes.

“Tanner!” Marna snapped out his name. “You’re not like them!” He’d protected her. Helped her. How could he think that he’d ever be like his father or Brandt?

“Didn’t you see me in the swamp?” he demanded. “I enjoyed those kills.”

Her skin seemed to ice.

His head lifted. His eyes finally met hers, and there was a chill in his stare. “Baby, I’m my father’s son.”

No.

“I didn’t want to be. I tried so hard not to be, but deep down, I have the same rage. The same violence. I’m—” He stopped, but she knew what he’d been about to say.

I’m like him.

She leaned onto her toes in an attempt to get as close to him as she could. She wanted the shifter to understand this. “What you are . . .” Her gaze searched his. “You’re better than him.”

And she thought his father had known that. He’d beaten his boys, attacked them from the time they were only children. He’d tried to force them to become like him.

Tanner wasn’t.

Neither was Cody.

As for Brandt, the bastard who’d hurt her . . . were monsters born the way they were? Or were they made?

Voice dark, Tanner said, “You shouldn’t touch me. And you damn well shouldn’t let me touch you.”

He was trying to be all noble. Fine. The guy was always trying to pull the noble knight card. She’d be the lusty one for a change. Marna caught his face in her hands, gripping that strong, square jaw she loved, and she pulled him down for a kiss. Her tongue licked over his lips, then darted inside to rub against his. “I know,” she said against his mouth, “exactly what I should do.”

She was done letting others tell her what was right, wrong, and everything in between.

Tanner’s eyes seemed dazed, but he gave a slight shake of his head and said, “Don’t you know how dangerous it is . . . to make me want you so much?”

No, but then, Marna was learning that she liked a bit of danger. Danger had pretty much become her life, and the adrenaline rush had her body on a taut edge.

Tanner sucked in a deep breath. “I can always taste you now.”

She licked her lips and tasted him.

His gaze seemed to burn her. “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he promised.

She smiled at him, but knew the curve of her lips was sad. “Every supernatural in this town is after me. They think I’m weak.” How did they know? How had they realized the truth?

Then it hit her.

The bar. The panther shifters. She’d gone there that night and she’d tried to kill them. Her touch hadn’t worked. “Someone was there,” she whispered as understanding settled heavily in her chest like a cold knot of dread. “Another supernatural.” Her eyes widened. The man who’d been setting her up, he could have been right there that night!