Conner grinned at her, a slow, very much alive grin that took what little breath she had and replaced it with a rush of heat and adrenaline. He raised a dripping hand to his hair and slicked it back away from his face. “What a rush, right?”
She nodded, fascinated by the sheer magnetism of his face. There was joy—life—shining in his eyes. Flames leapt and burned brightly in the golden eyes. He winked at her and butterflies began a serious migration in the pit of her stomach.
“Sorry about the lack of clothes. I thought your life was more important than your modesty.”
“At the time I did too,” she admitted. Although now she was more concerned with her virtue—what little she had left. She wanted him to stand up. His strong thighs hid the front of his body from her, but her mouth was watering. She knew what was there. And she knew he’d be rock hard. He usually was around her, and she hadn’t seen much difference since they’d been in each other’s company.
“I hated that we had to kill her,” Conner said, and this time there was no mistaking the regret in his voice. “She was a female looking for a meal is all. I hate losing any of them.”
“I’m grateful I wasn’t her meal,” Isabeau admitted.
“I should have been more careful,” Conner said. “They lie under the banks in the natural caves there where the water is shallow and a little sluggish. We aren’t at a very high elevation and I should have been more alert.”
Elijah snickered and Conner sent him a glowering warning. Elijah just laughed. “Clearly, your mind was where it shouldn’t have been.”
Conner’s glower turned to a smoldering glare. “Why weren’t you alert?”
The glare didn’t have any more effect than the glower. Elijah laughed out loud. “Trying to converse, you mangy cat. It isn’t easy trying to get your sorry ass out of trouble. It takes some thinking.”
Isabeau burst out laughing. “Both of you are insane.”
“We’re insane? You’re the one standing there laughing after a snake tried to swallow you whole,” Elijah pointed out.
“I’m sure it would have dislocated all her bones first,” Conner said.
She shoved him, hoping for a big splash. Her push barely rocked him, but he flashed her another wide grin that shook her up, and his smile was worth missing out on seeing him going facedown in the water. It was the respect on his face. In his eyes. He was proud of her and there was respect in Elijah’s eyes as well. She couldn’t help the small, blossoming glow spreading inside of her.
“We’d better get you back and out of those wet clothes,” Conner said. “I’m going to shift.”
It was all the warning she got before his muscles contorted and fur slid along his back and belly. Claws burst through the tips of his fingers. She was shocked at how fast he could assume his other form. She fell into step beside him, unafraid, even though her heart pounded and she was aware of every movement in the forest. She was alive. Totally, absolutely alive.
8
IT was happening all over again. Isabeau took a quick, surreptitious look around, hoping no one would notice her squirming. Her skin burned, felt too tight, every nerve ending raw and jumping. She rubbed her arms, and with even that light touch, her skin hurt. Deep inside the itch had grown to a demanding ache she couldn’t ignore.
She’d slept the night way, curled against the large leopard, the rain a steady, soothing rhythm, the fur thick and warm. His heartbeat had been in her ear as she’d pillowed her head on soft fur. There’d been no sign of this madness then. She’d even managed to get the picture of Conner crouching naked in the stream out of her mind. Now, she couldn’t take a breath without scenting his fresh, wild musk—an enticing lure she couldn’t seem to ignore.
Without even looking for him, she was acutely aware of him. She knew his exact position at any given moment. Conner Vega was fast becoming the bane of her life. She tried desperately just to breathe normally, but her lungs burned right along with her skin, air coming in ragged, harsh gasps.
The men shot her small, quick glances throughout breakfast, but no one really looked at her—and that told her that in spite of her best efforts—they knew her ripening condition. It was a humiliating and extremely uncomfortable position to be in. Her hunger deepened when Conner came back from his morning shower, dressed casually in jeans that hugged his strong legs and cupped his butt. The last thing she needed to do was to be looking, but, honestly, how could she stop herself? She pressed her fingertips to her temples hard in an effort to get control. Her teeth ached from the strain of continually clenching them.
The men had a low conversation after breakfast while she drank coffee that tasted so bitter she could barely get it down. Adan had left. She’d put down the sudden uneasiness she’d felt at her only real ally leaving, but no matter how much she wanted to deny it, since awakening this morning, a slow heat had begun building in her body. Thick, like magma in a volcano, the heat moved through her veins and spread like an insidious addiction throughout her body.
It didn’t help that after breakfast the team decided to work with Jeremiah and her on fighting skills. Of course it was Conner touching her, totally impersonal, his hands placing her body in the correct position until just the brush of his fingertips made her want to scream with need. She was not going to miss this opportunity to learn from them, but their bodies were soon glistening with sweat and almost immediately the men shed their shirts.
She put everything she had into the workout, appreciating the difficult physical techniques of punching and kicking. She worked her body hard in an effort to sublimate. If she couldn’t have hot, sweaty sex and lots of it, she hoped to work herself to the point of exhaustion. Each time Conner corrected her stance, or her leg when she pivoted and kicked, it was all she could do not to jerk away from his scalding touch.
She deliberately put distance between them, trying to work on the spinning, jumping kicks and accurate punches. She heard Conner and Rio talking about sparring and stood with Jeremiah, trying not to notice the amorous glances he shot her way. Her cat wanted to rub along the tree branches, basically rub anything at all. All she wanted to do was rub herself all over Conner, but if they wanted sparring then that’s what they’d get.
Felipe was first to stand opposite her, his fists doubled, his hands up and his eyes focused on her. She could see he was trying not to breathe—not to inhale her scent. She’d never noticed that his lashes were so long, curling a bit at the tips. He had a nice nose and a firm jaw. He was extremely handsome, not quite as muscular as Conner or Rio, but lithe and supple . . .
“What the hell are you doing, Isabeau?” Conner demanded. “He just nailed you six times in a row and you didn’t even try to block.”
“He did?” She blinked rapidly and looked around at the circle of faces, a little confused. Had Felipe actually moved? “He didn’t hit me.”
“He pulled his punch because if he touched you, I’d knock his teeth down his throat,” Conner bit back, clearly exasperated. “You still have to block.”
He looked very sexy when he was angry. She’d never noticed that before. She reached out to rub the frown from his face. He jerked back, his breath exploding out of his lungs. She dropped her hand, pouting a little. “I’m trying, Conner.”