“He’ll do this.”
“He’s never heard of the Han Vol Don. How can he understand what’s happening to him?”
“He’ll do this,” Drake repeated. “I know him. His strength. His determination. He’ll control his leopard.”
“Damn it, man. You’re betting your life.”
The truck rocked again and the leopard stuck his head out the open door. It went eerily silent. Still. The fur was dark with sweat. As if sensing a threat, birds fell silent and insects ceased all sound. The leopard lowered his head, golden eyes staring at Drake with focused intent.
“He’s locked on you, he’s locked on you,” Joshua warned, tearing at his own shirt and tossing it aside. He yanked off both boots, keeping his eyes on the leopard.
The leopard leapt from its still-standing position, clearing a good six feet or more, touched the ground and sprang a second time.
“Shoot him,” Joshua implored, tearing off his jeans and kicking them away. He took two running steps and began shifting as he sprinted toward Drake and the leopard.
The leopard hit Drake with the force of a freight train, slamming into his chest and knocking him backward. Drake used the rifle to ward off the powerful cat, although it was a flimsy defense, and the raking claws streaked fire across his chest, just missing his throat.
“Jake. Fight!” He looked straight into the golden eyes.
Joshua’s leopard came in from the side. Jake leapt, spinning in midair to avoid the attack. His mind red with rage, the call for blood filling his thoughts, he barely heard Drake’s voice. He respected Drake. Liked him. Yet he could barely distinguish Drake from his mortal enemies.
Faced with the scent of a human male blocking his way back to his mate, with a male leopard rushing toward him and with a murderous rage in his heart, Jake tried to concentrate on Drake’s voice. He needed something to drown out the roaring of his leopard.
Joshua’s leopard leapt the remaining distance, determined to keep him off Drake. Jake spun, his flexible spine nearly folding double as he whirled to meet the new threat. The slash of the stiletto claws sent pain flashing along Jake’s thigh. For a moment his lungs burned with agony and he drew a deep, shuddering breath. Victory. Victory in pain. Pain was his life, and it steadied him as nothing else could have.
He took hold of his snarling leopard and forced his iron will on the cat. Murmuring soothing words, he promised they’d have their mate soon. He backed the snarling cat up, inch by inch. His leopard fought him every step of the way, instincts warring with his human mind. Jake was strong—stronger than the leopard when it came to his determination—and the leopard abruptly gave in, spinning around and running into the trees.
The leopard ran, putting on a burst of speed to take him deep into the woods. The need for his mate bordered on desperation, and Jake wanted the leopard as far from the ranch and Emma as possible. He had no idea what was happening to him as a leopard—or as a man—but he had to learn to control it before he could possibly make any demands on Emma.
The wind rose and howled through the trees, warning of a coming storm. Darkness spread and with it came the rain. The drops poured down as if the very skies wept for him, wept with him for the vicious cruelty running in his veins. The large pads allowed him to be silent as he moved fast, going deeper into the protection of the woods, trying to outrun himself and his ugly, brutal nature. He had feared his entire life that he would be like them—the enemies—and a part of him had tried to convince himself it wasn’t so, but the way his body and his mind burned obsessively for Emma, the way he reacted each time he saw her, the violent emotions swirling in his belly all told a different story.
The leopard turned his face up to the rain and wind, allowing it to sweep over him, hoping it would cleanse him. The storm increased in strength, the wind whipping through the trees, bending samplings, tearing off leaves and cracking smaller boughs so that debris rained down on him. The wind on his fur felt right, the storm adding to the leopard’s edgy mood. He was free. He could lose himself here, where the trees and the water drowned out the noise of the city. Where no one could stop him from taking his prey as he was meant to do. There was music in the wind and leaves, kinship with the animals and birds. He belonged somewhere. He ran free, going for miles even when his heart felt as though it was bursting and his breath came in great puffs of vapor.
He came to a swollen stream and plunged in without hesitation, uncaring that the current caught at him, buffeting the large cat and sweeping him down toward a bend. Branches hit him hard, rolling him under, and he came up snarling and spitting, using his heavy, roped muscles to power him to the edge where he could drag himself onto land.
He stood, head down, sides heaving, fighting for breath, fighting himself. What the hell was he doing? He had set himself on a course of revenge and somewhere along the line that course had altered. He didn’t understand emotion and he didn’t trust it. His emotions were too violent, too intense, and he was too capable of hurting others.
The pain from the claw rakes on his side reminded him of every single victory of his childhood, every time he exerted control, every time he built his determination to survive and grow strong. The leopard lay down under a large tree, the umbrella of leaves and branches swaying wildly with the turbulent wind, allowing the rain to continually pour down on him, cooling the heat of his body and the wildness of his mind.
Drake had been with him for two years. Joshua had followed, leaving the rain forest to try a different life. He was more easygoing than Drake, laughed more, but behind his green eyes were dark shadows. Jake hadn’t pried when Joshua had asked for a job. Jake knew he was leopard, a friend of Drake’s, and although a part of him was envious at the easy relationship between the two men who had grown up together—leaving him to be an outsider looking in—he was still grateful to have a second leopard to help instruct him. Neither had ever said he would feel like this—complete meltdown.
He admired Drake’s strength. The leopard was every bit a part of them as breathing was, yet Drake couldn’t shift. He’d taken a bullet that had shattered his leg, and the metal plate holding him together prevented him from shifting. Something had to be done about that soon. Drake couldn’t live without his leopard forever.
Deep inside the leopard, Jake went on alert. He was on the verge of an important discovery. Drake couldn’t live without his leopard forever. Drake wasn’t a leopard. He wasn’t a man. He was both. Together. The man needed the leopard and the leopard needed the man. One couldn’t survive long without the other. Drake’s leopard lived inside him, but he couldn’t run free. Couldn’t run and breathe and feel the joy of the leopard as it raced in open territory or leapt leisurely from one branch to the next. What was the leopard doing? Thinking? Feeling? He couldn’t survive long in such a state, and neither would Drake.
So what of his own leopard? What had he given to it? What had he done for it? He had closed himself off from that part, careful to protect himself. He feared the leopard would make him into his parents and allow the animalistic qualities in his nature free rein. But running free night after night had calmed his rage, allowed him to escape the pain of his nightmarish childhood. All along, even as a toddler, way before the leopard had emerged, the leopard had given him the strength to endure.
Drake had traveled thousands of miles with him on faith alone, willing to give up part of his life, his own need and love of the rain forest, in order to instruct Jake in his heritage. Money meant little to Drake. It was merely a means to an end, a tool with which to do the things he felt necessary. He had come to Texas only to aid Jake. As always, Jake had distrusted every kindness. And he distrusted the leopard—his other half. The leopard had waited for him, for his acceptance, rising only when Jake needed his strength, when something—or someone—triggered his instincts or when Jake needed to disappear and run free. Not once had Jake shared himself as Drake had told him was necessary for full development.
He was afraid. The realization stunned him. He had thought himself long past fear. He had survived when others would never have made it, and he’d survived through sheer guts and determination, in the midst of a wild storm, his sides heaving, sweat darkening his fear, panting with horror when he’d known all along what lay within him. Jake didn’t want to give himself to anyone, not to the children, not to the leopard and certainly not to Emma. They were to be his. Controlled by him. Dictated to in his perfect world that he built and ruled.
All along, Drake had told him he had to let go. With his heart pounding, he tasted terror in his mouth. If he let go and the leopard swallowed him, he was lost. If he loved his children and something happened to them, his heart would be torn out. If he gave himself to Emma and she threw him away, he would not survive.
The leopard put his head down on his paws and wept, tears mingling with the raindrops as the storm begin to abate. He had always refused to think of himself as a victim. He had survived because he was strong and it had been his choice not to fight back. He hadn’t allowed the leopard to leap upon his enemies and rend and tear until they were no more, although more than once he had raged inside to do so. His control had always been his proof to himself that he was different. To let that go, to trust, to give, was truly terrifying.
For the first time in Jake’s life, he realized he might not be strong enough to overcome the trauma of his childhood. He had never acknowledged to himself that he had been abused. It had been a way of life and he had learned lessons, very hard lessons, but they shaped him into a successful man—and an even more successful businessman. He thought of himself as untouchable, and in most ways he was. He had the reputation of being too rich, too politically connected, too ruthless and too dangerous to mess with.
But he was afraid of himself. His biggest enemy was inside of him. Drake had said he couldn’t live separate from his leopard, and if he didn’t embrace the beast, welcome it and learn to use what he considered failings as strengths, he would never really be alive. And eventually the leopard would fight him every inch of the way. He didn’t want to chance it. Everything in him rebelled, but he was dangerously close to hurting Emma, to destroying his home—the only home he’d ever known.