He wasn’t leaving.

She lied, just like everyone else. She’d always told him she was proud of his work, how she admired his patience and how well he cared for the peregrines. But now she called them stupid . How could she? How could she think that way about an animal as sleek and fast and free and beautiful as Theron?

The familiar anger built, but this time it was different. The fury grew more powerful. More real. His own needs weren’t essential anymore; this rage swelled into something more important than him.

If he didn’t return to Theron, who would look out for them? Some bureaucrat from the state who identified the birds by their radio frequencies? Never. Theron had a distinct personality. Unique. He’d never allow him to be relegated to a mere number, one of many, nothing. Now that the peregrines were no longer considered an endangered species, no one cared about them like he did.

If he left, what would happen to them? Who would watch them? Track them? Protect them?

No. He wasn’t leaving. And she couldn’t make him.

Besides, he hadn’t finished with the blonde he had hidden away. He couldn’t leave until he was done with her.

Slap!

He raised his hand to his cheek, the heat from her assault spreading from his head to the rest of his body. He stared at her-he’d almost forgotten she was standing in front of him, talking.

“You haven’t listened to a word I said! I swear, you’re nothing more than a fool. Get your stuff together. Now !”

“No.”

He sounded calm. In fact, he felt free. He savored his defiance.

“What?” She sounded shocked. Good.

“I’m not leaving. Not yet.” He took a step toward her. He was seven inches taller than The Bitch, but he’d never felt bigger until now. He straightened his spine and stared her down.

She glanced away first, taking a step back. Was that fear on her face? Yes, it was. He knew that look well. He just never had thought he’d see it on her.

For years she’d coddled and neglected him; loved and hated him; protected and hurt him.

She no longer had any power over him. The years washed away.

Her eyes darted right and left, but she smiled. A shaky smile.

She knew.

“Sweetheart,” she said in that cooing voice of hers. “Be reasonable.”

“I’m not leaving until the eggs are hatched.”

“But-”

His hand came down across her face and she staggered backward.

He didn’t know who was more startled-her or him. He’d never raised a hand to her. Never seriously considered it.

But she’d never attacked his birds before.

He grew under the power of her fear. The tables had turned.

“You can do whatever you damn well please,” he told her. “I’m not leaving.”