Wild Fire

by Christine Feehan

  "What is it?"

  "Not a date rape drug. I haven't stooped so low that I'd rape a woman. When I take you, it will be because you can't help yourself, you'll need me."

  She wasn't going to argue how illogical that was, not when he was coming at her with the teacup. She leapt out of her chair, this time remembering her cat, calling on the lazy hussy to help out. Why wasn't she outraged? Why wasn't she fighting for their survival? For Conner's survival. And, God help her, where was Conner?

  Deep inside her, her cat stirred, scented the air and found her own mark on Ottila. Another rival for her affections. She stretched languorously. Isabeau hissed at her to subside. Where was the famous leopard loyalty? She cursed herself for not knowing the rules.

  "What is that?"

  "Choose for him, life or death."

  She couldn't look away from his eyes. It was difficult not to believe him. He seemed invincible and absolutely sure of himself. She touched her tongue to her lip, for one awful moment considering going with him. By why hadn't he just knocked her out and taken her out of the cabin? This wasn't about choice, it never was. It was about something altogether different. Her brain went click, click, click as pieces fell into place.

  "You were always going to kill him, right from the beginning, weren't you?"

  He caught her around the throat, letting her feel his immense strength. Isabeau didn't struggle. There was a warning in his eyes she heeded. "He's been inside you. His mark is on you. He can't live."

  She swallowed hard. "You were never going to share me with Suma."

  "Not in a million years.

  She lifted her chin and indicated the tea. "Tell me what's in that."

  "I don't want you to feel what I'm going to do to you." Her heart slammed so hard against her chest she was afraid it would burst. Fear breathed through her like a living entity. He said it so matter-of-factly, not blinking, no sympathy, no remorse.

  "What are you going to do to me?"

  "Not you. Him. He has to be made to suffer. To be off his game. His leopard will go into a rage and he won't be able to control it. I've studied him. He's methodical. And good. I don't believe in being stupid. I need an edge and the only way I'm going to get it is to hurt you, or crawl into the doctor's house and savage his young friend. Either would set him off."

  She knew he deliberately threatened Jeremiah to coerce her to drink the drugged tea. "You're going to hurt me?" she echoed. He was right, Conner would never forgive himself and he'd turn the rain forest inside out looking for Ottila. He'd follow him right into a trap. She looked into Ottila's eyes, forcing courage into frozen muscles.

  "You need to punish me, don't you?" In his own sick way, he felt she'd betrayed him--betrayed their relationship. She'd been deceived by his absolute calm.

  "Drink the tea, Isabeau," he instructed softly.

  She took the cup from him, her fingers trembling, looking down into the dark liquid. He'd made certain the water wasn't hot enough to burn him if she threw it at him. He actually expected her to obey him and drink his drug. She brought the mixture to her mouth and flung the contents into his eyes, carrying the cup on through to smash it against the arms of the chair. She kept moving, whirling around as she slashed at him with the shard. It wasn't like she had much to lose, he was going to hurt her on purpose.

  The piece of glass cut a thin line across his chest, but he didn't even wince. His gaze burned into hers, a fierce promise of retribution. Isabeau refused to be intimidated. She held the shard like a knife, down low, the jagged edge pointed up toward the softer parts of his body. Ottila sidestepped and then moved in on her, fast, so fast for a big man. His hand slapped her wrist away, turning aside the glass as he spun her around, trapping her body against his.

  His hand controlled hers, slamming it hard against the wall. "Drop it," he ordered. "Drop it right now."

  When she hesitated, he drove her hand a second time into the wall. The jagged edges cut into her palm and the force of the blow sent pain shooting up her arm. Tears burned in her eyes and she blinked them rapidly away, not wanting to show weakness. She was terrified of letting go of her only weapon, but he was just too strong.

  "Drop it, Isabeau," he ordered again.

  There was no change in his inflection. He might have been talking about the weather. Shivering, she complied. He held her for a few more moments, his arms strong, holding her up when she might have collapsed.

  "That was stupid. What did you gain from it?"

  "I had to try."

  "I guess so."

  His hands were gentle as he put her away from him. So gentle, in fact, that when he struck her, she was more shocked than hurt. Blows rained down on her body, hard, fast jabs that had her doubling over and sliding down the wall. He kept hitting her, methodically, over and over. She tried crawling away from him, fighting back, using her arms to defend herself, but the blows kept falling all over her body. He never touched her face and when she curled into the fetal position to try to protect herself, he crouched beside her and continued.

  There was no way to protect herself from the blows. They seemed to go on forever. She closed her eyes, sobbing, holding up her hands to try to block him. Just as abruptly as it started, he stopped hitting her.

  "Open your eyes," he commanded softly.

  Tears swimming in her eyes, she obeyed him reluctantly. He bent his head toward her, shifting as he did so, until a male leopard in his prime held her pinned against the floor, his teeth sinking deep into her shoulder directly over the mark Conner had put there. At the same time, his back claw raked down her thigh. She felt the gash, the blood run free, and she also felt the burn spreading through her system. She could hear her own screams of anguish, but the leopard ignored her pleas, rolling her over so that she was on her back, her soft belly exposed to him.

  His claws sank into her breasts, deep punctures that drew blood. She heard herself scream, but he wasn't finished. His claws raked the insides of her thighs and then sank deep into her feminine mound. The pain was excruciating. She nearly passed out, the edges of her vision darkening, bile rising.

  He lifted her onto her hands and knees, holding her head down to keep her from fainting. She was going to be sick, her stomach cramping and heaving in protest. He appeared just as patient, his hands stroking her hair, soothing her as if he hadn't been the one to cause such damage in the first place.

  Sobbing, Isabeau tried to crawl away from him, but he simply drew her into his arms and rocked her back and forth. She didn't fight him. Any movement caused pain to rip through her body.

  "We're tied together, Isabeau," he said softly, looking down at her shredded, bloody jeans. "You'll need an antibiotic. He's going to be so enraged he may forget, so you'll have to be the one to remember." Again he spoke matter-of-factly.

  "Why?" she asked.

  He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "When you think back on your wedding day, it will be me you remember, not him." His hand stroked her hair, trying to soothe her when she was shaking uncontrollably. "And to prove a point. You'll never be safe with him, neither will your children. I got to the kid right under the noses of his guards, and I got to you. I can do it again, anytime, anyplace. You need to think about what you want in a partner. We live by the law of the jungle, Isabeau, and if he can't protect you, what use is he to you?"

  "Did you kill Jeremiah?" She pressed her trembling fingers to her mouth. Any movement was painful and she desperately wanted to remove her jeans and top and press a cool cloth to the throbbing puncture wounds.

  "His death would have accomplished very little. I needed the kid alive to delay your man. Now he'll have to live with the fact that he made the wrong choice in helping the boy. Each time he tries to touch you"--the pad of his finger slid over the wounds on her breast--"he's going to see my mark, my brand."

  She wanted to slap his hand away, but she was too cowed. She'd never been beaten in her life. He'd done it with such objectivity, as if he was completely removed from the act. She t
ried to crawl away from him, finding the wall to lean against, the only way to hold herself up.

  His fingers circled her ankle like a shackle. "Make certain you don't get pregnant with his baby. I'd hate to have to kill a cub, and it would be much harder for you to forgive me."

  How could he think she could forgive the beating he'd given her? He'd terrorized her on purpose, a punishment that in his twisted mind she deserved. "Tell him to meet me and to come alone. If he doesn't, I'll be back periodically to visit until he does."

  "Where?" She whispered the word.

  "He'll know."

  She slid down the wall when he let go of her, crying softly, terrified for herself--for Conner. Ottila stood over her, once again taking his human form. Both were intimidating. "I can get to you anywhere. Anytime. If he tries to run with you, you'd better believe he can't protect you, no matter where he takes you, I'll find you. You tell him that."

  She bit down hard on her lower lip and stayed very still, afraid to move. He leaned into her, his mouth finding hers. She held herself very still, trying not to sob as he explored her mouth with his tongue, taking his time, his hands once again gentle. It was disconcerting, to have him go from violence to almost loving. He didn't protest when she remained passive. He pulled back and looked into her eyes.

  "Next time, you might remind him that leopards like to go high."

  He shifted right in front of her, a male leopard in his prime, his tail switching as he leapt up into the beams with casual ease and disappeared into the small attic. She didn't hear him after that, but she remained huddled against the wall, terrified that he hadn't really left and would come back.

  SHE jammed her fist into her mouth and wept as quietly as she could. She didn't want to see anyone, not Conner--especially not Conner. She felt bruised and battered. Ottila had completely broken her. She had no idea what to feel, only fear, intense fear. He'd stripped her down until she couldn't recognize herself. She had to get her clothes off and treat the puncture wounds. He'd wanted to mark her, not maim her, so they couldn't be as bad as they felt. But she couldn't move. She stayed still, huddled against the wall, weeping quietly.

  "ISABEAU! We're coming in," Conner's voice made her jump, but she didn't move, making herself as small as possible there against the wall.

  CONNER waited uneasily when Isabeau didn't answer him. He glanced at Rio, who was still pulling on his jeans. The cabin was dark, just as he'd told her to leave it. All the shutters were closed. There seemed no good reason for his uneasiness, although after tracking the large leopard back to the doctor's house and into Jeremiah's room, he could believe the leopard capable of anything. The boy had been helpless, lying hooked to an IV, fighting for every breath, and Ottila had raked deep claw marks in his belly. He could have disemboweled him. The general consensus had been that he'd been interrupted by Mary or the doctor as they'd looked in on him.

  Many guests still remained in the house and Elijah patrolled outside, yet the leopard had managed to locate Jeremiah's room and enter with so much stealth, no one had even known he was in the house. Conner knew the leopard could have killed all of them--Mary, Doc, his friends and certainly Jeremiah. He knew the others were wrong, Ottila hadn't been interrupted, he hadn't wanted to kill Jeremiah.

  Conner put his hand on the door and inhaled. Was there a faint scent of a leopard? "I'm coming in, Isabeau, don't shoot me."

  He unlocked the door and the smell hit him hard, waves of it. Leopard and blood. The mixture was potent. He whipped his head around, examining every inch of the cabin until his gaze found her huddled and bloody in the darkness.

  "Is he here?" he asked. She looked in shock, her face starkly white. It took every ounce of control not to leap to her side and gather her up.

  For a moment she was silent. Traumatized. He didn't want to think about what had happened here. Not with her clothes bloody and that look of terror on her face.

  "Isabeau," he hissed, putting a flick of command in his voice.

  "I don't know. He went up there," she pointed to the beams overhead. Her tone was so low he barely caught the words, even with his acute hearing.

  Rio moved into the room, his bare feet silent on the wooden floor as he studied the rafters above his head. He leapt, catching one of the beams and swinging his body into position.

  Conner crossed to Isabeau's side, crouching down beside her, gently reaching for her. He made certain to keep his movements slow and deliberate. "Tell me, Isabeau," he instructed.

  A sob escaped and she pressed her fingers to her trembling mouth, moving back to make herself smaller. Conner let his gaze slide over her, looking for the worst of the injuries. She had blood on her shirt over her breasts and more was seeping through the material at the junction of her legs. His heart began to pound in alarm.

  "Can you tell me what he did?"

  She moistened her lips and pressed back against the wall, needing the stability of the structure. "He said he wanted you to meet him. He said you'd know where."

  "He's gone," Rio announced. "He got in through a small screened vent in the attic. He had to have planned this very carefully." He swung down and stood next to Conner, observing her pale face and bloody clothes. "I'll call the doc." He reached for the light.

  Isabeau shook her head, alarm spreading across her face, so much so that Conner held up his hand to stop Rio.

  "I don't want anyone to see me like this. Don't turn on the light."

  "I have to take a look at you," Conner said, his voice gentle. "I'm going to pick you up, beloved. It may hurt." He had no idea of the extent of her injuries, but the scent of blood was strong. There was a hint of lingering musk, as if Ottila had been aroused, but he didn't smell sex.

  "There's broken glass on the floor," Isabeau warned.

  It seemed so inconsequential to him given the circumstances. "We'll be careful." He reached for her, afraid of hurting her when she shuddered in his arms. The scent of blood was stronger, but even more so was the scent of Ottila's leopard. He'd marked her deliberately, wanting to insult Conner, wanting him to realize he could take his woman at any time. Conner read the challenge for what it was.

  "Would you mind starting a bath, Rio?" he asked, more to get the man out of the room than for any other reason.

  He had no idea where to start. He just knew that he couldn't make this about him, about the rage burning like a wildfire in his belly. This had to be about Isabeau. She was dazed, confused and looking at him with fear in her eyes.

  Shaken, Conner gathered Isabeau to him, cradling her against his chest, feeling her wince when her body pressed against his. "What did he do?"

  "He beat me," she said, suppressing another sob. "He wasn't angry. He just beat me, like it was a job to him. And then he used his claws on me, on my . . . body." She buried her face against his shoulder and clung to him.

  So close to her, the scent of the other leopard was overpowering. His cat went wild, raking and clawing, demanding to be set free to kill his rival. He wanted the scent off of her. "I need to look at the damage, Isabeau."

  She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes.

  "Would you be more comfortable with a woman? With Mary?" He kept his voice gentle.

  Again she shook her head. "I don't want to see anyone."

  He had to ask. "Did he rape you?"

  She pressed her forehead tight against his shoulder. His heart pounded hard in his chest, but he made no movement, staying still, just waiting.

  "He said he would never rape a woman." She began to weep a little wildly. "He was so cruel, Conner. And all the while, he acted like I deserved it, like I had betrayed him."

  He tightened his arms carefully around her, trying not to choke on the other man's smell. His leopard was insane, pushing close to the surface, raging at his enemy, trying to rip through flesh to get to the hideous, offensive smell.

  "We're going to get you in the bathtub where I can inspect the damage. You'll need painkillers, Isabeau, and antibiotics . . ."


  She lifted her face to look at him for the first time and there was a hint of pride in her gaze. "He said you'd be too upset to remember the antibiotics, but you didn't forget. "

  "Of course I didn't," he brushed a kiss along her forehead. "You're my first priority, always, Isabeau."

  "He thought I'd be upset that you went to help Jeremiah," she said. "But I'm glad you did." She couldn't keep the edge of hysteria from her voice. "He did everything he could to drive a wedge between us."

  Conner's stomach knotted. He heard the uncertainty in her voice. She wasn't aware of it, but Ottila had done damage to Isabeau by shaking her confidence, not only in him--that he could accept another man's mark on her--but in herself. He lifted her, taking her on through to the bathroom. Rio had thoughtfully lit candles to keep the light muted and soft.

  "Should I get the doc?" he asked.

  "She's already on antibiotics. Give me some time to assess the damage," Conner said. "He planned this out very well. He let me catch a whiff of him, laid a trail straight to Jeremiah, hurt him enough that we'd stay there and help, left us another trail into the forest leading away from the valley and from here, and all the while we were chasing him he was terrorizing Isabeau."

  "Is it possible he's doing Cortez's bidding?" Rio ventured. "We have to at least take a look at the possibility that she knows about us."

  "No." Isabeau raised her head, her gaze meeting Rio's steadily. "He deserted Imelda and is coming after Conner. He's got a twisted sense of right and wrong. It was okay to beat me, but not okay to rape me. I should accept him and we can live happily ever after, although he might have to kill Conner's and my child. I think he has enough money to be satisfied and he's already moved on to his next agenda. I made the mistake of marking him." Her voice wobbled but she kept her gaze steady. "This isn't about Imelda. We're still clear to go."

  "You're betting our lives on that," Rio said. "A good way to kill Conner is to lure him into Imelda's compound."

  "He wouldn't do that," Isabeau denied.

  "Why?" Rio asked.

  "He has a sense of honor," she replied.

  The knots in Conner's belly tightened even more. He didn't want Ottila Zorba anywhere near Isabeau. "Listen, baby," he crooned softly. "This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault."