Wild Fire (6 page)

Isabeau gasped and tried to pull back, but he was too strong, his hands clamped around hers, forcing her to push the knife into his body. She shook her head. Tears swam in her eyes. He went still, leaving the tip where it was.

“Look at me, Isabeau, not at the blood. Look me in the eye.”

Isabeau swallowed hard and tilted her head to once again meet his compelling gaze. She had wanted him dead, prayed for him to be dead, dreamt of killing him, but she’d never imagined feeling like this. She was terrified by the look in his eyes. He would do it, force the knife into his heart. She’d never imagined him so strong, but she couldn’t move away from him and she felt every muscle in his body coiled—ready.

“Shove the knife into my chest. You’re no coward. You want me dead—just get the job done, don’t play games. You seduce another man you’ll get him killed too. This is between us. Don’t drag anyone else into our mess.”

Isabeau couldn’t breathe and her vision had gone blurry. Tears burned in her eyes. In her throat. In her lungs. She’d thought she was all cried out, but just seeing him tore her apart again. The betrayal had been so devastating, the cut so deep, the wound as raw as ever. The idea of him with another woman made her physically ill, but rage was strong, strong enough, she’d thought, to carry this through.

His body was trembling, this man who had cut her heart into little pieces and left her without a father, with nothing, absolutely nothing, her life in ruins. She couldn’t sleep at night with wanting him, with loathing him. He thought she’d sent for him for revenge, but the truth was worse than that—she’d sent for him because she couldn’t bear not to see him again. She couldn’t wash enough times to get him off her skin, the taste of him out of her mouth. Her heart was so shattered she didn’t think she could ever feel its rhythmic beat again.

It had been hell, sheer torment without him, but now, seeing him, breathing him into her body, feeling him so close, the burning started all over again, like a wildfire out of control. He made her his puppet, his slave, a woman with such need no other could ever fill her or satisfy her. She hated him with every fiber of her being, yet the idea of him touching another woman sickened her.

And the way he looked at her. That focused stare, filled with possession, as if he knew she wanted him in spite of every sick thing he had ever done. So damned smug, knowing it would take one move on his part, crushing her mouth under his, knowing she longed to go up on her toes and fasten her mouth to his and she would melt into him, give herself away all over again. She hated herself with the same fiery passion she hated him. He’d destroyed her heart and he’d stolen her soul. She was left with nothing but ashes and pain.

For one horrible moment her fingers tightened on the hilt of the knife, but she could no more have shoved it into him than she could have done it to herself. He was a part of her. She hated herself, but he was a part of her and she knew she couldn’t live with the knowledge that she’d killed him.

Her mouth trembled. Her hands. And then her body. She ducked her head and tears fell on the backs of his hands where he gripped hers so hard. “Tell me what you want,” her voice barely a thread of sound as she capitulated, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She was lost and she knew it. “To get those children back. Tell me what you want, how to do it.”

His grip eased on her hands until she could slide them away. She rubbed her palms up and down her jean-clad thighs as if she could rid herself of the urge to rip and tear at him—or touch him.

“Keep doing that, as if it’s going to help you,” he said. “It isn’t going to stop the itch, little cat, and we both know it. You need scratching, you have one place to come.
One
, do you understand me?”

“I’d rather die.”

“I don’t care. You want me to get those children out, I’ll do it, but you don’t go near any other man.”

“You can’t dictate that to me.”

“You persist in thinking in human terms, Isabeau,” he said. He stepped close again, inhaling her scent, forcing her to inhale his. “I have news for you. I’m not human and neither are you. You’re in the rain forest, and here, we have a whole different set of laws. Higher laws. You’re close to heat, close to the Han Vol Dan, the first emergence of your cat. Her first need is your first need. No one touches you but your mate. And whether you like it or not, that would be me.”

“You’re crazy.” She jerked back away from him. “I’m human.”

He touched his face, drawing her attention to the scars there. Her brand. “You did this with your claws, little cat.”

She closed her eyes tight for a brief moment but not before he caught a glimpse of pain, of confusion and guilt. She shook her head in denial, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “How could I possibly do that to you?”

Conner knew she’d been so shocked by all the revelations that night. Her father dead on the floor—the evidence of his guilt all around them. One dead prisoner and two others weeping. The discovery that the man she’d trusted, the one she loved, used her to get to her father—that she didn’t even know his real name—the betrayal of that moment—the shock. She’d stepped toward him in spite of the restraining hands holding her back—more evidence of the power of her leopard—and she’d slapped him. Only in that split second, before her palm connected with his face, the pain had been so acute her cat had leapt to shield her, her hand shifting to a claw. She’d gone white, her eyes too large for her face, her knees nearly giving out so that he’d caught at her to keep her from falling, even with his face torn and ravaged, blood dripping steadily.

Isabeau had shrunk away from him and he could see clearly that over time, she’d convinced herself the entire thing hadn’t happened. It couldn’t have happened. How could it be possible for a woman to shift even partially into a leopard?

She shook her head again. “My father was Dr. Arnold Chandler. He may have lost his way and done some things he shouldn’t have, but he was human. People don’t just change and grow claws.”

He heard the honest confusion and guilt in her voice and reached out to curl his fingers around the nape of her neck. “There are a lot of unexplained things in the world, Isabeau. You have dreams, don’t you?” His voice thickened, turned husky. “Of you. Me. The two of us in another time, another place.”

She looked more horrified than ever. Isabeau shook her head frantically, as if the stronger her denial the more she could make it real. “Never. No way. I would never dream about you. You’re a monster, someone who takes pleasure in preying on women.”

The lash of contempt hit him like a whip and his cat raged and snarled. One eyebrow raised coolly and his eyes bore into hers, held her so she couldn’t escape his focused stare. His head moved slightly and a purring growl rumbled in his chest as he moved his head close to hers. Her eyes went wide as his lips whispered over hers.

“You’re lying, Isabeau. I can smell your need of me. I can feel your heat. You want me more than you ever wanted me. And you dream of me, just as I dream of you.”

She shoved hard at his chest in an attempt to knock him away from her. He didn’t so much as rock and she put the roped muscles of her cat behind it unknowingly. He felt the punch of her palms, the bite of her claws, and his cat leapt to meet hers, snarling for supremacy. He caught her wrists in a steel grip and held her against him. The moment he did, he knew it was a mistake. His control was already far too thin.

They stared at one another, lips inches apart, his golden gaze locked on hers. Desire was raw and unrelenting. He expected violence when the emotion was there, fierce and passionate, arcing between them, but when his lips touched hers, there was only a whisper, as if from the brush of a moth’s wing, and God help them both, he didn’t know if she moved or if he had. The jolt was electric, shocking in its intensity, igniting an instant fire that raced through his veins like a storm.

“I hate you,” she hissed, tears in her eyes.

He felt the shudder go through her and there was no way for her to hide her body’s reaction to him. “I know.” He brushed back strands of her thick, tawny hair from her face. Tears caught on her lashes.

“You killed my father.”

He shook his head. “I’m not letting you lay that at my door. I have enough sins without you blaming me for something I didn’t do. You know better. You don’t want to face it, but he killed himself the moment he threw in with that bunch for the money. They kidnapped and tortured people for money. How is that different from what’s going on here?” His palm cupped her face, his thumb sliding over soft skin before she could pull away. “If you need a reason to hate me, you have legitimate ones. Stick to one of those.”

Isabeau pulled away from him and crossed to the window, staring out into the forest. “Those children need to be rescued, Conner. It really doesn’t matter what I feel right now. This isn’t about what happened between us. It really isn’t. I didn’t bring you here for revenge. I wouldn’t have sent for you, but Adan refused to allow me to try by myself to get inside her compound. Those children are in danger. She’ll really do what she’s threatened—send them home in pieces if the tribe doesn’t cooperate.” She turned to face him again, her eyes meeting his. “How do we get inside to find out where they’re being held?”

He was silent a moment, watching her. She seemed more fragile than he remembered, more beautiful, her skin nearly glowing, her hair shiny and rippling with a silken invitation. She was telling the truth. “Then we’ll have to get them out, won’t we,” he said softly.

Some of the tension eased from her body. “I thought you weren’t going to help me.”

“You really don’t know about the leopard world, do you?” he asked.

She frowned and looked at her hand. “I didn’t think that was real.”

He held out his hand. “Look at me, but stay very calm. I mean it, Isabeau, don’t make any moves or scream. My cat is hungry for you and I’m going to let him out just enough for you to know I’m speaking the truth. Don’t incite him any more than your scent already has.”

She looked more confused than ever, so he willed the change. His leopard leapt at his control, battering hard in an effort to emerge fully. Claws burst through his hands and fur raced up his arm. He felt the contortion of his muscles and, breathing deep, he fought the cat back. It took every ounce of strength. Sweat trickled down his body and muscles locked and froze as he urged the leopard under control.

Isabeau gasped, but she stood her ground. Most of the color leeched from her face, and her eyes seemed enormous. She rubbed at her arms as if they itched, as if her cat had leapt toward his beneath her skin. “How is this possible?” Her voice was a whisper of sound.

He glided toward her, afraid she might fall, but she stepped back and held up a defensive hand, shaking her head. He froze again, going completely still.

“The short version is, we’re a separate species, not leopard, not human, but a combination of both. Our female leopards don’t emerge until the Han Vol Dan, or the first heat for the leopard. Many females don’t know they are leopard. My guess is, the doctor delivered you, and not realizing you were leopard, as we’re a closely guarded secret, he decided to raise you when your birth mother died. We’d have to do some research, but he probably passed you off as his wife’s child, or quietly adopted you.”

“Why is it when I’m around you everything in my life goes to hell?” She pushed a shaky hand through her hair.

His leopard snarled a warning just as the cicadas ceased their song. A chuffing sound followed by a grunt of acknowledgment came from outside the cabin.

“Who followed you, Isabeau?” Conner was on her fast, gripping her arm and pulling her into the protection of his body, and away from the window. “Do you have someone else with you?” He dragged her onto her toes. “Answer me, now, before someone gets killed.”

3

ISABEAU swallowed hard, shaking her head, her eyes wide with fear, even as she fought him, more instinctive than wanting free. “I swear, it was just Adan and me who came to see you, no one else.”

Conner responded by dragging her away from the windows and into the shelter of a small alcove where anyone looking in wouldn’t be able to see her. He gave a series of chuffing sounds, warning the others that whoever was approaching the cabin had not come with Isabeau’s knowledge.

Isabeau’s heart was pounding loud enough for him to hear, her breathing coming in ragged gasps. He held her still, ignoring the heel drumming into his shin. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he pressed his lips against her ear. “You’d better be telling the truth, because whoever is out there will be hunted.”

She forced herself to stop struggling, but her body remained tense, on the verge of flight. “I swear to you, Adan and I came alone.”

“Who knew you were trying to hire a rescue team?” Her scent was driving him insane. Her body was soft and lush and he remembered every curve, every secret hollow. It was difficult to keep from nuzzling her throat. As it was, his head dipped low and found the soft joining of her neck and shoulder.

“Adan’s wife. And he went to the grandfather of the other children, but no one else. Cortez pays spies. She has them everywhere. We had to be careful. We didn’t even meet in the open. Adan went off for a while trying to track you down, but I don’t know if he talked to anyone else.”

Rio would be questioning Adan, and the tribal elder was too savvy to lie to a leopard. “You’ll be fine, Isabeau. Nothing will happen to you with all of us around. They’ll take care of it.” But he felt caged. He didn’t like the walls surrounding him. He needed to be out where he felt he could remove any threat to her. “Just relax.”

Isabeau took a deep breath and instantly regretted it. There was no way to relax when he was so close. His heat poured off of him, his scent, wild and magnetic, and now she knew why. She wasn’t as shocked as she’d been the first time she felt something running under her own skin, or when she’d slapped him and raked the skin from his face. Over time, she’d tried to convince herself she hadn’t really done it, but the rare times she actually slept, she woke up screaming, seeing the blood running down his face.