"If you flee, this Comanche will follow you. Anyone who tries to keep you from me will die. Think long and hard on this. I paid a fine bride price. You are my woman. What is mine, I keep." "You wouldn't!" She said with a gasp. "My family, Hunter?" The stunned disbelief that crossed her face nearly made Hunter retract the threat, but he knew if he did, she would run at the first opportunity. If she feared for her loved ones, she would be less likely to do something rash. Her eyes turned hard and glassy. Raising her chin, she met his gaze with contemptuous disdain. "But of course you would, wouldn't you? All you care about is keeping what belongs to you. In this case, me. Bought and paid for, your woman! No better than a horse." "You are mine. I have spilled my seed within you. Run from me, and I will beat you until you wail and weep. It is a promise I make for you." "You know what my problem has been, Hunter? I have seen only what I wanted to see." She flung her arm toward his scalp pole again. "The evidence has always been here, but I made excuses for you and saw you the way I wanted you to be. Somehow, I told myself you cared about me, not as a possession, but as a person! And in doing so I forgot one major fact. You're a Comanche, first, last, and always. A murdering heathen! Aunt Rachel was right." He stepped across the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching her. "If you think I'm going to lie there beside you now, you're crazy," she informed him in a tremulous voice. "I am sure enough one crazy Comanche," he replied. "You will lie beside me. This night and for always. You cannot run. If you do, death will ride beside you, wherever you go."