"Let go." Her voice shook, but she got the words out. Her body shuddered with illicit pleasure even as it began cooling rapidly after the terrible burning need that had raged. She was left drained and sated and confused.
"Isabeau, look at me."
The sound of his voice made her close her eyes like a child trying to block out the ghost that always haunted her. "Just let go." Because if he didn't, she was going to burst into tears and sob loud enough for any enemy in the vicinity to come running.
"Relax. We're not out of the woods yet, honey. I can't have you fighting with me when we're in the middle of enemy territory. Just calm down for me."
"I'm perfectly calm." Shattered. Broken. But calm.
5
"EVERYTHING will be all right, Isabeau."
The devil's whisper. That sinful, sexy, lying voice. She'd succumbed to his power the first time she was tested. At that moment, she despised the cat inside of her nearly as much as she hated her human self. Isabeau forced her body to relax, showing him the fight was gone.
Conner loosened his hold on her reluctantly, as if he didn't quite trust her surrender. She glanced at his face and saw herself as a shadow in the reflection of his eyes. She felt like a shadow, insubstantial beside his power. She ducked her head, unable to face even just the shadow of herself. She never wanted to look in the mirror again.
"I'm your mate, Isabeau. There's no shame between mates."
She lifted her chin and stepped away from him, her knees rubbery, her heart still thundering. "You're nothing to me. And whatever is happening to my body, has nothing to do with you. Any man would have been satisfactory."
She made the mistake of looking at him. The amber in his eyes crystallized, turned gold and then yellow. Flecks of green merged, his pupils fully dilated and his stare focused and deadly. He stepped close to her, invading her space. If there was rage, it smoldered beneath the surface. His face was hard, mouth firm. A muscle bunched in his jaw, but his gaze held steady, a clear warning.
"Say whatever you have to say to keep your pride, Isabeau. Words don't matter much. But you think long and hard before you endanger someone's life. That's on you. Mating is a higher law and there's no getting around it. You can't pretend it away. This is between us, no one else. We'll work it out."
She blinked rapidly to stop the burning tears. Damn him. He'd destroyed her. He couldn't have known how deep a blow he'd struck. She wasn't the kind of girl boys had flocked to when she'd been growing up. There were no dates or dances in school. Boys had rushed to her friends but never to her. Same with college. She had never discovered why others avoided her. She tried to learn the art of flirting, of conversation. She'd made it a point to be friendly, but she was always pushed aside and had finally accepted she wasn't attractive to the opposite sex and women found her too intimidating to be her friend.
Conner had come along and made her feel beautiful. He'd made her feel wanted. Of course, his name hadn't been Conner and he'd been lying to her about his feelings for her. And she should have known. Men like Conner, dangerous, magnetic, charming and sexy, simply didn't look at women like Isabeau. He'd made love to her over and over, and all the time he'd been doing his job. Someone had paid him to seduce her in order to get close to her father.
The shame was overpowering. She felt like such a fool. To believe, after all the years of knowing that men didn't find her attractive, that a man like him would fall head over heels for her was ridiculous. She felt almost like she deserved what happened to her for her own stupidity.
"You killed my father." She flung the accusation at him, so mixed up she couldn't breathe properly. Her breath came in ragged, harsh gasps, her lungs burning, as if she was starved for air. He sounded so calm. So in control. She wanted to slap his face all over again.
"I had nothing to do with your father's death. That was his choice and you damn well know it. I told you before, I have enough sins on my soul, Isabeau, without you adding things I'm not responsible for." He towered over her for a long moment, his expression grim, his eyes deadly, and then he drew in a breath and touched her hair with gentle fingers. "I know it's difficult to be with me, but you're doing fine."
"You call this fine? I'm a wreck. I'm so mixed up," she admitted. Because her pride was already long gone. He could smell her arousal, her body's call to him. There were no secrets between leopards. "I can't even think straight." She pushed a shaky hand through her hair--the strands he'd just brushed a caress over. She couldn't deny the mating thing, not really, not when her body was insane for his, but she was still human and she had a brain. She had to find control. "Maybe everything you're saying about the leopard and the mate is the truth, but I refuse to allow it to rule me."
"You have so much more power than you realize, Isabeau, but it will come to you," he assured.
She hated the gentleness in his voice--the caress--that sexy note that stroked her already raw nerves. Now that she knew it was practice, a tool of his trade, one would think she wouldn't be susceptible, but it seemed her body believed him in spite of her brain.
"I'll teach you the things you need to know to live with your cat. You'll find you already have the strength and power to deal with her. She won't accept any other male and she'll drive you toward me, but you already know that."
"She isn't going to get her way."
"Look at me."
The quiet command in his voice was impossible to resist. She found herself looking into the eyes of his cat and it was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. His eyes had gone so yellow they were golden and lethal, a cat's deadly stare, wholly focused and possessive.
"It isn't any different for me. No other woman would be accepted by my cat. When you slapped me you left your mark in my skin, on my bones. Your cat claimed me whether you knew what you were doing or not. I can't sleep. I can barely function. I'm edgy and moody and two breaths away from fighting every moment of the day. That's the reality, Isabeau. I have to accept it just as you do."
He was telling the truth. She saw it in his eyes. Heard it in his voice. She shouldn't have felt satisfaction, but it was there, as petty as that was. One more thing to hate about herself, but if she spent her life craving a man she could never be with, he could damn well pine away for her. She let her breath out and some of the tension eased from her taut muscles.
"I didn't know. About the mark. I didn't know."
"I know. Your cat knew. She was angry and she had every right to be. Let's call a truce until we get the children home safe. We'll sort this out later."
"You'll still help us then?"
"Yes." Conner spoke tersely, aware he could never walk away from her. She still didn't know just how strong the pull between their cats would be. He knew how strong the pull between the man and woman was, but she had every right to reject him. He had to find a way to redeem himself and if that meant he had to seduce another woman, as abhorrent as it would be for him--and for his cat--he would do whatever it took to convince her he was serious about atoning. Words weren't going to convince her, only action. And action was something he was good at.
"Can you teach me more things like climbing the tree?"
He nodded. "You've learned martial arts, and you're not bad, but you aren't utilizing your reflexes. You need to be more confident. We can work on that as well." He flashed her a faint grin. "Of course I'm not certain I want you to learn to be a better fighter. You have a penchant for using your skills on me."
She managed a slight smile, her stomach settling. "I liked being in the canopy," she admitted, striving for civility. She'd summoned him to her and now it was a case of "being careful what she wished for." She had to live with her decision and apparently so did he. Finding she wasn't alone in her desperate, clawing need, made dealing with it much easier.
"I do too." He stepped away from her and gathered the fallen man's weapons along with the gun she'd left on the ground. "Let's rendezvous with the others and make our plans. We've got a lot to do before the party i
f we're going to pull this off. And we have to find a way to safeguard Adan's grandson."
Relief flooded her body. "Do you think there's a way? Or do you think she's already had him killed?"
"It wouldn't make sense for her to kill him until she's disposed of Adan. She'd want to make a point, but if Adan capitulates, by some miracle, it would be a huge victory for her. He's the most respected elder the tribes have. If he caves, so will the others."
"So she sent these men out after him knowing they might fail?"
"This is his turf. He's at home in the rain forest; these men aren't. She has two rogue leopards on her payroll. She would have sent them if she wanted to make certain Adan died. He trains Special Forces from all over the world in survival. She knew he might survive and she's hoping if he does, he will have gotten the message she's willing to play hardball with him."
"He won't open her routes for her. He feels very strongly on the subject."
"I imagine he does," Conner agreed. "She's murdering his people, forcing them into servitude. He's a proud man who managed to bring his people into this century, yet still keep his culture intact. He'll fight her with every breath in his body."
"Then how?"
"We just need him to buy us some time. She doesn't know, or care anything about the tribe, so Adan can make up ceremonies that have to be done before he leaves and buy us a couple of days there. She'll be gloating, figuring now that she's bent the will of the most influential tribe elder, everyone will fall in with her plans. Once he's in the forest, she'll have to send her rogues to watch him. She'll have no choice. None of her other men would have a chance of staying up with him and she'll need to know he's complying with her orders."
Isabeau was horrified. "Conner, he won't deliver the drugs and they'll kill him."
"Adan doesn't die so easy. And we want the rogues to trail him. We need them out of the compound."
"Dead. You mean you want the rogues dead." Her eyes met his steadily.
"What did you think we were going to do? Smile and ask pretty please? You sent for me because I'm a bastard. The biggest bastard you know. That's what you need to get those kids back and to make certain it doesn't happen again. She'll tear those villages apart once we leave if she's alive. You wanted me here because I'm the one you know who can get them back. You knew exactly what you were getting, so don't act shocked. Anyone who hires us knows what has to be done, they just don't have the guts to do it themselves."
She ignored the bitterness and glimpse of hurt in his normally expressionless voice. "I have the guts. Adan said no. And for your information, I wasn't putting judgment on you."
His eyebrow shot up. "You accused me of killing your father. I stood there like a damned idiot and almost got shot for you."
"What are you talking about?"
He studied her pale face for a long moment. His eyes slowing changed back to dark gold. "It doesn't matter, Isabeau. We have a truce. Let's just keep to that."
She frowned at him, her expression genuinely puzzled. "I don't understand what you meant. I saw you."
"You saw your father put a gun to my head. He nearly blew my brains out."
"You had him trapped. What was he supposed to do?"
"I went in unarmed. I tried to talk him into surrendering, into walking out with me and letting the team take down his boss, but he wouldn't listen." He made certain to look her in the eye. She wouldn't want to believe him, but her cat would know he was telling the truth. The cat was becoming strong enough to emerge, and the closer she got to the surface, the more she would enhance Isabeau's abilities. She would know if he lied and if he told the truth.
Isabeau refused to be a coward, looking him straight in the eye and forcing herself to remember the terrifying moment when she'd stepped into the room and saw her father falling, blood splattering the wall behind him. There'd been so much blood. At first she hadn't known what happened. There was no sound, a silencer on the weapon used. She had opened her mouth to scream, and her lover had been on her so fast she couldn't even see him move, his hand clapping hard over her mouth, taking her to the floor, his eyes cold and hard and so demonic she'd been terrified.
She'd lain under his body, watching the blood turn black and thick around her father, and the man she'd loved with her soul, now a stranger who was clearly working with the man who had shot her father. Funny, she could barely recall the other man, only the gun and her father falling and Conner's face, carved of stone, grim, without a trace of love or caring. Without a trace of remorse. He'd held her there while others moved in with guns, his hand clamped tight so she could barely take a breath. She'd watched them, grim and silent, weapons crisscrossing their bodies, move through the room, stepping over her father as if he were a piece of garbage and not a man who had laughed and played with her, teaching her to drive, sitting up all night with her when she was ill.
Isabeau swallowed hard and looked away from him. It was totally dark now, but she could see when she should have been blind. She didn't want to see. Maybe staying blind in the darkness was the best way for self-preservation, because God help her if she came to terms with what Conner had done.
"We've got to go," Conner said.
She nodded, letting her breath out in relief. She couldn't think about that night. She'd spent too much time delving into her father's affairs, feeling as if she was betraying him. She'd spent too many sleepless nights, had too many nightmares.
"Put your shoes back on, you can't walk barefoot."
She sank down without arguing and pulled her shoes on, watching as he did the same. She knew by the way he tilted his head that he was listening to something. She caught vibrations of sound, like an echo almost, but couldn't sort it out.
"Are they close?" Instinctively she lowered her voice.
"Someone is coming this way. It isn't one of ours."
"How can you tell?"
"They're too loud. And I can smell their sweat. It isn't a leopard scent or Adan's. We'll be fine. He's alone and he's being stalked."
"Why can't I smell him?"
"Your cat retreated. Women move closer and closer to their leopard emerging, but she comes and goes quite often at first. No one knows why. Maybe she's just as nervous as you are. My cat has settled, which means yours has moved away from us."
She shook her head. "It's hard to believe. If I hadn't seen or felt it, I'd think we were both crazy."
His eyes went soft. Liquid. Sexy. Her breath hissed out. She couldn't blame her reaction on her cat when her cat was far away. This was woman, pure and simple, so attracted to a man she went damp just looking at him.
"I know this is a lot for you to take in all at once, Isabeau, but it will get easier. And you haven't run screaming even with all the death you've seen today and the revelations about who and what you are."
There was pride in his voice--respect even. That was his talent. He could make her feel special. More than special, extraordinary. The admiration in his voice stroked like fingers over skin. How did he do that? His voice was so compelling. So real. There was no way to desensitize her skin after he'd touched her with his fingers, or after hearing his voice. It was impossible, at least for her. Her nerves were raw--little electric sparks arced over her breasts and down her stomach.
She wasn't experienced enough, or sophisticated enough to be casual with him. Everything he did and the way he talked affected her physically and emotionally. He was so far out of her league she didn't have a prayer of hiding anything from him, so she shrugged her shoulders and made certain her shoes were tied.
"I'm not fragile, Conner. I knew what I was getting into, or at least what it would take to get the children back."
A blood-curdling scream filled the night. Chills went down her spine and she swiveled toward the sound. The harrowing cry was cut off in mid-note. Isabeau stood shivering, realizing that once again, Conner had inserted his body between her and whatever had made that god-awful, horrible sound. He always protected her, even in the cabin when he thought
she might want him dead. Even when her father had been killed. It hadn't felt like protection then--he'd prevented her from crying out--but his body had shielded hers throughout a terrible shootout.
She didn't want to notice that about Conner, how he protected her, because that small little voice in her head would begin dreaming, whispering that she mattered to him. He was a master manipulator, and she'd paid him to come. He hadn't sought her out on his own. He hadn't fallen to his knees and begged forgiveness. Even when he told her his cat wouldn't accept anyone else, he had been matter-of-fact and unenthusiastic.
He skirted the dead body of the man he'd killed earlier, leading her into the darkness, padding ahead in silence. She couldn't even hear him breathe, but she felt his presence--very solid--close to her. She felt like his shadow, attached, yet not, and the thought made her smile. Everything in her life was so mixed up, so upside down, yet she was more alive than she'd been in a year.
She'd spent a good portion of her time in the rain forest, and she'd learned to really respect it. One had to be careful all the time, much like divers in an ocean. Her beautiful surroundings could turn on her in a moment, yet being with Conner took that edge of fear away. She believed nothing could happen to her as long as she was close to him. He exuded absolute confidence, and it carried over to her.
Was it possible to learn to be like him? Could she learn his abilities? Have his power and strength? She wanted it to be true. She loved climbing the tree and making her way through the canopy. It felt like living in the clouds in spite of the fire and the fleeing wildlife. She'd felt the heartbeat of the rain forest through her cat, the joy and freedom of being so close to nature.
"Why weren't they afraid of us? The animals. Didn't we smell like predators to them? I can smell your cat when you're close to me and you can smell mine."
Wild Fire Page 9
