“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.”
“Our people have always been guardians of the rain forest. Over the years, of course, our people have intermarried with humans and have gone to the cities, but the instinct to protect is in all of us and the animals respond to it.”
He reached back and took her hand, tucking her fingers into his back pocket. “Stay close to me. We’re coming up on the river. They’ll have an ambush set.”
Her heart jumped the moment his fingers brushed hers. It was worse holding on to his jean pocket. The heat of his skin seemed to surround her, envelope her, just put her in a cocoon of warmth. She could actually feel him moving, the ripple of his muscles, the fluid steps, more animal than man. She tried to feel her cat, to emulate the flow of his body, but she seemed that little bit out of sync, occasionally stumbling over the uneven ground now.
She’d always had good night vision, but her sight wasn’t like it had been earlier when her cat had been close. She knew the difference now, just as she knew she was fairly experienced in the rain forest, not like Adan, but she’d been superb with her cat close.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
His voice was a bare thread of sound, projected—almost—into her mind rather than heard. She felt the vibration go through her brain like a heat wave. She curled her fingers around the edge of his pocket, an involuntary reaction, and instantly he halted and half turned to her, bending his head close, his palm cupping the side of her face, thumb brushing a reassuring stroke along her cheek.
“You aren’t afraid, are you? I won’t let anything happen to you, Isabeau. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I give you my word I’ll guard you with my life. There’s no need for fear. We’ve got friends close by. If it’s too difficult here on the ground, I can take you back up into the canopy and you can wait while I help them clear the way to safety.”
She shook her head. “I want to stay with you. I’m not afraid.”
“You’re shivering.”
Was she? She hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t because she was afraid of the men sent to kill them—or rather to kill Adan. Excitement. Anticipation. Even being close to Conner again. “Just nerves,” she said, simplifying without lying. “I don’t want to have to kill someone. I think I could if I was defending someone else, but I’m afraid I’d hesitate and get everyone killed.”
There was a part of her that wanted to jerk away from him and tell him to quit touching her, but another, more masochistic part craved each brush of his fingers, every intense, compelling look from his shattering gaze.
“I don’t want you having to do the things I do, Isabeau. There’s no need. I’ll teach you all the things you need to know to defend yourself and anyone you love, but when it comes down to it, you lose a little part of yourself every time you kill. It isn’t as bad in leopard form. Our cats are pure predators and that helps, which is why many of us choose that form when hunting.” He indicated the night.
She listened. At first she only heard her own heart pounding. The sound of air moving in and out of her lungs. She was acutely aware of Conner so close to her, his body heat warming her, his large frame protecting her. To her right she heard the soft brush of fur against something rough—a tree trunk she guessed. She inhaled and scented something wild. Her skin tingled as she recognized the scent of a leopard.
Conner stepped closer to her, his arm sliding around her to bring her tight against him. His lips pressed against her ear. “He’s hunting something close to us. Reach for the information. Even without your cat close, you can use its senses. You have a kind of radar. You must have known who was at your door sometimes before you opened it.”
She nodded.
“A cat’s whiskers are embedded deep in tissue and the nerve endings transmit information to the brain. You can use that information as a guidance system, sort of like feeling your way in the dark. You can read objects, where everything and everyone is in the forest, how close you are to it and what it is.” His fingertips slid over her face. “Like Braille. Right now, Elijah knows exactly where his prey is, his position and where he needs to strike to deliver a killing bite.”
Conner couldn’t resist touching her. Cats were tactile and he needed not only to keep his hands on her, but to rub his scent over her. She rubbed her face along his chest and throat, without even realizing she was doing it. He remembered how often she’d done just that when they’d lain together, naked, skin to skin. He should have realized then. Scent and touch was tremendously important to their species—a necessary thing.
Isabeau had taught him to play. With her, he’d felt different—more. Often, when he’d be curled up on the bed, cat-napping after a long and satisfying sexual encounter, she would stalk and pounce on him, so they would end up in a rough-and-tumble play that led right back to much more sensual play.
He’d missed everything about her, especially the way she rubbed her scent all over him, like now. Just the feel of her soft body pressing close to his, the feminine fragrance rising around him, wrapping him up in her, so that when he inhaled he took her into his lungs. He wanted to hold her forever, to bury his face in that sweet spot between her neck and shoulder and just breathe her in until he knew she was real again.
He tensed when Elijah made his move, just a scant thirty feet from them, leaping on the gunman, dragging him to the ground and holding his prey with a suffocating bite to the throat until all struggle ceased. He heard the soft thud of the body, scented blood and then death. All the while, he kept his arms around Isabeau, grateful he had a reason to be close to her.
He knew the exact moment she scented death. Her body trembled slightly, and she snuggled a little deeper into him, but he was proud of her. She stood. There in the darkness, with enemies in the night, and violence and death, she stood. That was the kind of mother he wanted for his children. A mate who would stand with him no matter the circumstances.
How the hell had he been so blind? How could he have blown his chance with her? He’d more than disappointed her. Her first experience, her first love, had betrayed her, left her with nothing but a dead father and too many questions. She hadn’t even known his real name. How did one get forgiveness for that kind of betrayal?
Something moved off to their left and just in front of them. Leaves crackled. He felt Elijah’s sudden stillness. His hand slipped over Isabeau’s mouth, a gentle reminder to stay quiet. She looked up at him and his breath caught in his throat. There was no fear there. Her eyes were beautiful, like two jewels pressed into the pale moonlight. He held a finger to his lips and indicated she stay where she was. She nodded in understanding, but when he slowly loosened his grip to step away from her, she caught his arm.