nearly stopped. He was coming back, and he was really, really angry.
Mitya. She said his name softly, a chill going down her spine.
The leopard jumped for the tree trunk and just hung there for a moment, his eyes glaring up at her and blood running down his chest. He clawed at the bark, digging in deep, so he could move up the trunk inch by inch. Foot by foot. Gaining ground as he climbed higher.
He would be waiting for her to stab at him with the spear, Ania knew. She had to believe he was like Mitya, able to shift with blurring speed. If he yanked the spear out of her hands, he could attack Jewel with it, drive her out of the tree so she would fall to the ground below. Even if she missed the spikes and the dirt was really too soft to kill her, she could still be dazed, or break a leg. Ania couldn’t let that happen.
Could Jewel outrun the male? He was badly injured. Blood poured from his throat and dotted his coat on his left side. Still, it was a terrible chance to take. As long as Jewel remained on the branch, she had a better chance of remaining out of the male’s reach.
Ania didn’t take her eyes from the cat clawing his way up the tree trunk. The wind blasted her face and she stayed very still, even though the droplets of water in the air were very cold on her skin. She didn’t care that the horrible man driving his leopard to such depravity could see her upper body. If anything, his gaze continued to drop from her eyes to her breasts. Let him be distracted. She had only to wait for Mitya. He would come. She knew he would.
The cat managed to make his way to just below the branch Jewel stood on. Ania calculated her weight. If she shifted entirely, she could climb to the next branch and she doubted if, even in human form, the male could get to her. If she tried stomping on his paw or hand, he could just grab her.
Every possibility slipped through her mind. She stayed very still, her hand gripping the spear. She let him see it. Let him see she was afraid and agitated. He would expect that. He wouldn’t think she would be using her brain. Plotting. Planning. He reached up toward her with a slow, stealthy paw, those hooked claws inching toward Jewel’s leg.
She moved her arm and his gaze flashed to the spear. He wanted her to try it. She saw he was ready, and she pulled her arm back as if she was about to thrust it toward his face again. Instead, she shifted entirely and kicked him as hard as she could in the throat. He went sailing backward off the tree and landed almost on top of Dymka.
The large male cat had crept up, ready to drag Albert from the tree, but Ania had gotten in a very hard, very well-placed kick. Her foot throbbed and hurt, feeling as if she might have broken every bone in it, but she knew it was only a momentary pain. She hated the sight of blood on her foot, so she shifted back to her leopard form and told Jewel to start the descent from the tree.
Below them, Dymka administered the suffocating bite to the reddish-coated leopard and then instantly roared out a challenge to any other cat that dared to come near his female. Jewel clawed her way down to the ground and ran a short distance away from the tree and the dead leopard beneath it.
He rushed between the dead cats, immediately traveling back to the two he had dispatched first. He slapped the ground, sending leaves and twigs into the air as he attacked the dead leopards, roaring his hatred of them.
Then he was running back to the third cat, circling it, sending dirt and leaves over the remains in contemptuous swipes of his paw before turning to Jewel. She ran from him, heading toward the deeper trees where a stream moved through the acreage. She didn’t get far before nature took over and she rolled, stood back on her feet and looked at her mate flirtatiously.
She hurried another five or ten feet and crouched. Before she could reprimand him or send him away, Dymka was on her, his heavier body blanketing hers, his teeth sinking into her neck, deep enough to draw blood, holding