Her breath hissed out as his mouth descended again. The gentleness was gone, replaced by raw passion. He took her response in his confident, dominant way. His hands were strong, his body hard, the heat rising between them like the steam in the forest. Her body went boneless, soft, melting into his. He growled, a low, vibrating note that sent fire licking like tongues over her skin. His hands slid down her spine to the curve of her bottom and he lifted her. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles.
The vee between her legs fit tightly over the thick bulge, welding them together. All the while his mouth ate hungrily at hers. Her world tunneled—narrowed to just Conner. His hands. His heat. The taste and texture of him. She was aware of every ragged breath, of the bite of his teeth, of the roughness of his caresses, even the feel of his skin beneath the material that kept her from touching him.
Everything receded until her mind was consumed with only Conner. He tasted like sin. Like a mixture of heaven, for the pleasure—and hell, for the craving that would always be for him. His mouth moved from hers and began traveling slowly, seductively down her face, the side of her neck, her throat and then shoulder. She felt the edge of his teeth and shivered in need. She didn’t want soft and gentle. She needed his rough possession, claiming her, branding her, taking her in a firestorm of heat and flame that would end the world around them, leaving them nothing but ashes, clean and fierce and forever welded together.
His head came up alertly and his golden gaze swept the forest around them. The men, off in the distant clearing, melted away, simply disappeared as though they’d never been. Conner allowed her shaky legs to drop to the ground even as he inhaled deeply, drawing in the air—and information.
9
SHAKEN, her entire body trembling, Isabeau clutched at Conner’s shoulders for support. “What is it?” She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe right.
“We have company coming this way,” he said. “The forest is getting mighty crowded these days.” He wrapped his arm around her and drew her beneath his shoulder, sliding back farther into the brush. “We’ll be fine. The boys are closing in on them.”
“Them?” she echoed faintly. If survival meant being alert at all times—she wasn’t going to make it. He had caught the scent of the intruders, or felt them in some way, while she’d been overcome with her own passion. How did he do that? She was almost upset with him, even though she knew it was a skill he needed—they needed—to survive.
“Two men. They move like they know the forest.”
“I don’t understand.” She didn’t understand what he meant, but more than that, she didn’t understand how her body could be screaming for relief, every nerve ending crying out for him to stay—to keep his attention solely on her. It was stupid in the face of danger, but she’d been so consumed by him, aware only of him, thinking he had the same awareness and need and obsession with her.
“Most people come into the rain forest and try to dominate, hacking their way, but these men are familiar and comfortable with it, telling us perhaps they inhabit the interior on a regular basis.” His palm curled around her nape and he dipped his head, skimming the side of her neck with a trail of kisses. “I could kill them just for interrupting us.”
It was his voice, shaking a little, rough—even harsh, revealing he meant those damning words that ironically allowed her to forgive him for his survival skills. She leaned into him and let him hold her close, trying hard to cool the rush of heat that had sent her body into meltdown.
“Take a breath. It helps.”
“Does it?”
He laughed softly, a mere thread of sound. “Not really. But we’ll pretend. When I’m with you, Isabeau, it’s a little like lighting a match to a stick of dynamite. I can’t seem to control it.” His teeth nipped her shoulder and he buried his face briefly against her neck, obviously struggling to cool the heat of his body as well. He was still thick and hard and, in spite of the potential gravity of the situation, she felt happy.
“At least it’s both of us.”
“How could you think otherwise?” He lifted his head and his gaze jumped from the forest to her and stared with that focused piercing intent that always managed to set fire to her blood. “Is it your cat who wants me?” His voice was velvet soft. Almost a caress. But there was just the slightest hint of uncertainty in his query.
“Why would you think that?”
A leopard grunted. Birds took flight. Several howler monkeys called out a warning. She couldn’t help the little gasp of alarm that just seemed to slip out.
Conner pushed her behind him. “Never panic, Isabeau. In any situation your brain is always your best weapon whether you’re in leopard or human form. There’s always a moment when you’ll have the advantage. All these defense techniques we’re teaching you are great, but conditioning and thinking are always going to be your best weapons.”
He spoke matter-of-factly, imparting the information even as he crouched lower in the brush, shifting position so he could find the slight breeze moving through the forest. Low, on the floor, there was rarely a wind unless a big enough storm generated it. Mostly the wind stayed in the canopy, but with his acute senses he could gather the information needed. Isabeau tried to follow his example. She was determined to learn, to be an asset to him.
She caught a faint scent drifting in the air and recognized it immediately from Adan’s village. His people used roots for soap. She waited a few moments, aware Conner must have known, yet he didn’t show himself and neither did any of the others. They weren’t trusting, and maybe that was a lesson in itself.
Two men emerged into the clearing. Both wore only loincloths, one in sandals, the other barefoot. The rain forest was so humid, clothes hampered anyone routinely moving through the interior, and most wore the minimum. She knew that from experience. Even she dressed in as little as possible when she worked. She recognized the older man as one of the elders, Adan’s brother, Gerald. The other was Adan’s son, Will. She started to move around Conner to greet them, but he pulled her into his arms, one hand sliding over her mouth.
Her gaze met his and her heart jumped. In that moment he looked less a man and more a leopard. They stared at one another. He looked every inch predator, his eyes cold, burning with a lethal glow that sent her heart hammering hard. He slowly loosened the hand on her mouth and held up a finger between them, all the while staring down into her eyes.
She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. She found herself mesmerized—hypnotized—by his stare. She knew it could happen with a large cat. They had power in their focused stare, the enthralling moment when prey froze, waiting for that killing blow. She couldn’t breathe, locked there, trapped in the glow. She remained absolutely still. Silent. Unable to disobey him.
He turned his head slowly, breaking the contact, focusing on the two men striding across the clearing in the direction of the cabin. She didn’t turn her head, but rather shifted her gaze, afraid of making a movement, holding her breath. She could feel Conner beside her, utterly still, the tension coiling in him, his muscles locked and ready.
The men had blowguns in their hands and were advancing with care, watching the surrounding forest, stepping cautiously as was their way. Isabeau had seen them many times, moving with ease through the heavy brush. A leopard grunted. The two men froze, went back-to-back, hands steady on their weapons. Another leopard answered from a point in front of them. A third replied to their left. Conner made a sound, deep in his throat. Rio’s call came from behind them, cutting off their escape route, so that the men knew they were completely surrounded.
Gerald slowly put his weapon on the ground and raised his hands, one holding a book. When his nephew hesitated, he snapped a command and the younger man sullenly placed his blowgun beside his uncle’s. They stood with their hands raised.
“Stay put,” Conner warned. “If they make a wrong move toward you, I won’t be able to save their lives.”
“They’re my friends,” Isabeau protested.