Saria straightened her shoulders. “I am standing here,” she said to both of them. “And I’m not a hostage. I’m with him of my own free will.”
“You all right, Saria?” Remy asked. “Come here, cher.”
Before she could comply, Drake stepped directly in front of her, cutting her off from her brothers. “I don’t think so. You’re not going to lay a hand on her.”
Remy’s penetrating eyes bored into him, the irises almost completely gone. His leopard was still close—still furious. “They dared to fire a gun at my sister,” he hissed. “I don’t much give a damn whether either of them is dead or alive. I don’t think it’s too much to ask to get a look at her to make certain she’s unharmed. Saria, get the hell over here before I walk right over Romeo.” The voice was pitched low, a velvet sheath over a steel dagger. “And don’ stand behind your guns. Choose, man or leopard,” he challenged.
His brothers stirred, as if to protest.
Armande and Robert, with great effort, shifted back into human form, groaning, weeping, trying to stop the blood from pooling on the ground around them.
Drake’s eyes glowed amber. He could feel the surge of heat and the wild call of his leopard leaping toward the open challenge.
“We shot to scare her,” Armande clarified in a weak, placating voice. He’d shifted back into human form so his wounds could be seen to. “I was careful not to hit her.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Remy snapped, his voice glaciercold. “I still may kill you.” He meant it too, it was obvious in the sudden pacing he couldn’t control, in spite of the guns trained on him. He glared at Drake. “Send my sister to me now.”
The situation grew even tenser, inching its way to an explosive conflagration as the two male leopards leapt and roared for supremacy, pushing their human counterparts. Drake tried breathing his way through his rage. As a rule, he was the level-headed, calm leopard. His confidence and strength of will controlling his animal was the reason he was the chosen team leader, yet now he was shaking with the need to attack.
“What’s wrong?” Saria whispered. “Do you think my brother would hurt me?”
Did he? It was a good question. What the hell was wrong with him? Remy might have reason to believe Drake had taken Saria against his will, but Drake had no reason to believe the man would harm his sister. So what the hell was his leopard reacting to?
Drake rubbed the bridge of his nose, studying the other man. He felt as if someone had rubbed his fur the wrong way. Every cell was alert and ready for combat. His leopard raged.
“Drake?” Saria’s voice trembled.
The sound of that one note of fear steadied the man. His leopard continued to claw at him to be free, but Drake immediately turned to Saria. Her face was pale, her eyes enormous. She was trying to be brave, but with her brothers so close to losing control and Drake adding to the chaotic situation, she was frightened. To her credit, she’d kept her word and stood with him, her grip on the rifle never faltering, nor had she run to her brothers—but she wanted to reassure them. What sister wouldn’t?
“Do you believe Remy would ever hurt me?” She glanced from Armande and Robert lying in pools of blood to her brother.
“No. He would defend you with his life,” Drake said and forced himself to step aside. This was the telling moment. If her brothers could persuade her that she’d acted in haste, he was lost.
Remy held out his hand to his sister, crooking a finger at her. Drake moved a little closer, into a better position to defend her if it was necessary, but he made no move to stop her from going to her eldest brother.
“Let me help the two on the ground,” Elie called out, cautiously moving toward the two fallen shifters.
“Go ahead,” Drake signaled for his team to allow Jeanmard to give the two downed fighters medical aid.
Saria self-consciously raised her hand to wipe the streaks of mud from her face. Drake caught her wrist and gently put her hand back to her side. “You look beautiful, Saria, and you’ve done nothing wrong. You protected your client and if they don’t see your courage and that you were right to do what you did, fuck ’em.”
She blinked, swallowed whatever she’d been about to say and nodded. Saria made her way across the soft ground to her eldest brother. Remy put both hands on her shoulders and inspected her carefully for injury.
“I’m fine, Remy, just a little scared. I’ve never had anyone shoot at me before.” She sounded a little shocked that her brothers had come after her.
Remy wrapped his arm around Saria, and pulled her close to him in a tight, fierce hug. “You scared the hell out of us, cher. When Elie contacted us that you were bein’ pursued in the swamp by Armande and Robert with guns . . .” He trailed off, that hot blue gaze leaping murderously to Armande again.
Saria looked up at her brother. “I’m sorry. I had no idea they’d react like that. What’s wrong with everyone?”
Remy inhaled deeply, taking the combined scent of his sister and Drake deep into his lungs. The piercing gaze swung back to Drake. “I think, ma soeur, that man who has his scent all over you is what’s wrong.”
At the accusation in his voice, Saria’s color rose.
“Did this man force himself on you?” Remy demanded.
At the question, Saria’s other brothers closed in, forming a tighter circle. Instantly a barrage of bullets kicked up water at their feet. Saria gasped and whirled toward the shooters. Drake shook his head, holding up his hand to stay fire. He held his ground. His shirt was unbuttoned, and like most shifters, he could lose his shoes fast, but his jeans would be a problem. Still . . . He waited, just as they all did. Every man there was looking at Saria, not at him, and he wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d caved to the pressure.
She lifted her chin, looked Remy straight in the eye and shook her head. “I asked him to mark me. Someone else attacked me, rakin’ my back and bitin’ me. Scared me to death and it hurt like hell. I asked him to tell me what the Han Vol Dan was, to talk to me about shifters, because no one else had.” This time the accusation was quite clear, aimed directly back at her brothers.