She fought for control, a little disoriented, caught between the past and the present. Now wasn’t the time to lose it. What in the world was wrong with her? She could hear the blast so close to her ear, the scream of the bullet loud in the confined room. Her own scream, the shock hitting her body. She tried to reach him, before he crumpled to the floor. She didn’t want him on the floor with all that blood.
Conner swore and rolled to one side, coming up on his knee, his body between hers and the gunfire. He nudged her. “When I fire, get up, stay low and run fast, staying to the right. We’re going up, into the canopy.”
She glanced up at the towering trees. Ashes fluttered through the air, looking like gray snowflakes. Her heart thundered in her ears. He wanted her to run, maybe right into more guns, with bullets spraying around them and a fire coming straight at them. And go up hundreds of feet into the canopy.
“Damn it, I’ll get you out of this but you have to do what I say.”
She didn’t have much choice. If she stayed where she was, she was going to get shot. She nodded, setting her jaw.
He laid down a spray of cover fire and hissed “Go!” over his shoulder.
Isabeau scrambled to her feet and began to sprint to her right in a low crouch. It was easier than she thought, her cat nimble, moving over the uneven ground without hesitation. Once on her feet and in motion, the song of the forest was in her veins again. It was a little more chaotic and frantic, but her senses were acute enough that she could sort out her surroundings even while she ran.
She knew there were only animals ahead of her. She never heard Conner coming up behind her, but she caught the leap of her cat reacting to him. Stupid cat. Didn’t it know he was more dangerous to them than any fire? She hated the surge of relief she felt at his presence, but told herself it was because without him, she didn’t stand a chance of getting out of the situation alive. She resisted the urge to glance at him over her shoulder just to reassure herself that he was really there in his solid, masculine form. He gave her confidence, when he shouldn’t have.
With the world around them turning a red-orange glow against the setting sun and the sound of the wind whipping through the trees generated by the fire itself, she felt more animal than human as she raced through the brush.
Conner caught the back of her shirt and halted her abruptly. “Here. We go up here. They won’t be looking for us in the canopy. They’re shooting blindly to drive us into another group. We can’t be caught in a crossfire.”
She was barely breathing hard, even after the hard run, her lungs and heart working more like the cat than the woman. She looked up the long tree trunk. The first branches were a good thirty feet above her head. “Are you crazy?” She took a step back. “I can’t climb that.”
“Yes, you can. You’re powerful and strong, Isabeau. You’ve lived one life cycle already as a cat—with me. It will come back to you. Trust your cat and let her loose. She won’t fully emerge, but she’ll get you up the tree.”
“Have I ever mentioned, I have a problem with heights?”
“Do you have a problem with bullets?”
She blinked up at him, realized he was teasing her and sent him a scowl. “That’s not funny.” But at his raised eyebrow, a small smile managed to sneak through. He didn’t look worried at all. He looked at her as if he believed she could do the impossible.
She took a breath and looked up the long tree trunk. It was covered in ropes of vines, a multitude of flowers and fungus. “How?”
He smiled at her, his teeth flashing white. “Good girl. I knew you’d do it.”
She swore his canines might have been a little longer, a little sharper than they’d been before and ran her tongue over her own teeth just to check. They seemed normal enough and she was almost disappointed. His smile sent a flare of pride singing through her veins, and that was not tolerable so she kept her attention on the tree. “Then you know more than I do. Tell me how.”
“Take off your shoes, tie them around your neck.”
She hesitated, but he was already doing as he advised and she reluctantly followed suit, stuffing her socks inside the shoes and tying laces together so she could hang them around her neck. She felt silly, but she stood up and stood awkwardly waiting.
“Tell me how this works first.”
“I’ll be right behind you. You’ve seen cats climb. They use their claws to anchor themselves on the trunk. Leopards are enormously strong. You have her claws and her strength.”
She held out her hands to him. “Does it look like I have claws?”
He took her hand in his, turning it, examining it. Her hand looked small and a little lost in his. His touch was gentle, but when she involuntarily tried to pull away, he tightened his grip, preventing her escape. His fixed gaze holding hers, he lifted her fingertips to his face, deliberately brushing the pads of her fingers into the four grooves there, following the scars from one end to the other. “You have claws.”
She moistened her lips again, her heart thudding. “I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t know.” She hated that she apologized; he deserved the scars, but she was still ashamed of the violence, of the way she’d been so duped, of the things she’d done with him—and still wanted to do. All of it. She ducked her head, half convinced he could read her mind. “I meant to slap you, not scar you.”
“I know. And I don’t blame you,” he said, reluctantly releasing her hand. “I think of it as your brand on me.”
Her womb clenched and then spasmed. Her reaction was totally inappropriate and upsetting, but still she found herself damp and aching. He mesmerized people. It wasn’t just her. She had to remind herself that if he turned that magnetic charm on Imelda Cortez, she would react exactly the same way. It wasn’t real.
“Tell me how to do this.” It was her only out and, although it was terrifying, climbing to the canopy was better than thoughts of Conner Vega wearing her brand.
“Step up next to the trunk. Pretend you’re a tree-hugger.” He slung the gun around to lie against his back, leaving his arms free.
Isabeau did what he said. Instantly he stepped behind her, his arms coming around on either side of her, his fingers curving, tips against the trunk. She felt him against her back. It was—intimate. Shocking. When he took a breath, so did she. Every nerve ending went on alert.