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but wonder how those tips would taste under her circling tongue.
    Suddenly unable to look at her, he glanced away. “No, I’m pretty sure she’s still nearby.” The tension was thickened between them. He seemed to want to say more, but was holding himself back.
    A funny sensation began at the nape of Dakoda’s neck. Every time she took a breath, the musk emanating from Jesse Clawfoot’s skin teased her. That in turn caused familiar warmth to pool between her thighs, making the crotch of her cotton panties uncomfortably sticky.
    More images flashed across her mind’s screen as she imagined the raw, sensual pleasure she’d feel when he sank his cock into her eager sex. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him in his human form, the notion of having sex with him had popped into her head more than once.
    Thinking about it is one thing, she warned herself. Doing it is another .
    As though able to discern her every carnal notion, Jesse slowly lifted his head. “And she’s definitely in heat,” he added softly.
    Heat . To become excited emotionally or physically.
    That definitely described her state of mind.
    Unaccountably thirsty, Dakoda picked up one of the bottles of water off the table. Cracking it open, she took a deep swallow of the tepid liquid. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. “I hope you’re not going to say what I think you are,” she half croaked.
    Jesse’s black gaze homed in on hers. “You’re one of the Tlvdatsi, Dakoda,” he breathed out in sudden confession. “You’re the female I’ve been tracking.”

6
    S hock pulsed through Dakoda, a dismay so sharp she had to fight the nausea rising from her gut. She gulped. “Surely, you’re joking.” She shook her head adamantly, feeling nothing but the cold refusal to believe. Suddenly a new twist had been tossed into the equation, adding an entirely new level to their captivity.
    She shook her head, unwilling to accept. “That doesn’t even make any sense,” she countered. “How can you even say I’m one of your kind?”
    â€œUnfortunately, I do know.”
    Dakoda folded her arms protectively across her chest, as if the move could somehow shield her from the truth. “How?” she demanded.
    Jesse gave a quick, rueful smile, tapping his nose with a single finger. “There’s a scent, a pheromone, which a female gives off. Most people don’t notice it, as it takes a keen sense of smell to recognize.”
    â€œI have an odor?” Dakoda pulled a face. “Oh, yuck. How disgusting.” She lifted one arm, giving her pit a quick sniff. Oh,
    yeah, she stank. No doubt about it. A groan filtered past her lips.
    Something akin to amusement crossed his face, lighting up his chiseled features. “It’s a good odor,” Jesse said, hastening to reassure her. “And it’s practically the only way we have of recognizing a true Tlvdatsi female.”
    Dakoda threw up her hands in disbelief. Frustration boiled through her. “But that’s just what I’ve been telling you. I don’t know what my heritage is. I don’t even know my father’s name, much less where he came from.”
    Jesse sighed. “I don’t have to guess, Dakoda. One of your parents has some Cherokee blood and is a descendant of the Tlvdatsi clan. Though I’m not really sure how to explain it, people with our bloodline seem to carry some sort of recessive gene that’s been passed down through generations. Most of us live our entire lives not knowing we carry it. It’s why those who know how to shift are almost extinct.”
    â€œBut I’m not a shifter,” she protested. “I’ve never had the urge to turn into a cougar and prowl.”
    A soft laugh escaped him. “None of us did, Dakoda. When I found out, I thought there was no freaking way on earth that was possible. I may be an