Burning Wild

by Christine Feehan

  So many people crowded around them, eager to meet Emma, as he'd known they would be. He kept her close as they moved around throughout the evening, talking briefly to as many people as he could, trying to get a feel for what the undercurrents were. Conspiracy. He smelled it. Tasted it. Inevitably, as the night wore on, he heard the soft whisper of it and satisfaction slid through him.

  "I think I've found what I was looking for, Emma. I'm going to join the group of men over by the window and lead them into talking about real estate. Sooner or later they'll ask me if I'm willing to sell my company. You'd be a major distraction to all of us, me especially. I need to concentrate on nuances. I'll get you a glass of wine and I want you to sit on the couch in the middle of the room. People will come up and talk to you, probably even the enemies, so if you can't handle it, give me a signal and I'll get you out of the situation."

  "But you need time."

  "As much time as you can buy me."

  "So, really, I'm the distraction to keep your enemies away from you."

  He nodded. "I hate having to use you like this, but no one is going to talk if Trent or Cathy and Ryan are in on the conversation. The moment you sit down and I leave you, the three of them will be unable to resist and they'll swarm around you like bees to honey."

  "Which is why you didn't want me leaving your side. You wanted to control when they approached me."

  Jake studied her upturned face. It was difficult to read Emma at times. She seemed to be such an open book, yet right now, he had no idea what she was thinking. He caught her chin. "Are you upset with me?"

  "No, I know this is important, Jake." She rolled her engagement ring back and forth on her finger. "But if we're going to be partners, you're going to have to start trusting me enough to talk to me about what's going on."

  "I don't want trouble touching you."

  She swept her hand around the room. "But it's already touching me. And maybe the children. I want to be a partner to you, not another burden." She stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his chin. "Get me my wine. The sooner this is done, the better off we'll be."

  He squeezed her fingers, tucked her hand behind him and made his way through the crowd. People parted for him, opening a path to the bar. There were several bartenders. One was free, but Jake didn't move forward. Another lifted his head to indicate he was ready but Jake ignored him. A third, Evan, served two people and Jake simply stood back, something out of character for him. Emma knew he expected--and got--instant service.

  "Red wine," he ordered softly. "Something good."

  Evan reached under the bar, ignoring the bottles already opened, and poured two glasses, handing them to Jake, not acknowledging Emma. The bottle disappeared back under the bar.

  Emma took the glass, letting him lead her to the leather sofa, which was occupied by several people. Jake stared at them until they moved. He sat her down and brushed a kiss on the top of her head. "Wait right here for me."

  Emma nodded and took a cautious sip of the wine. It was good, and she wasn't that much of a wine connoisseur. She watched Jake walk away from her. There was something so fluid and confident about the way he moved, like water flowing over rock, nothing getting in his way. He was a formidable opponent, and it occurred to her, not for the first time, that she was in way over her head.

  "Ms. Reynolds?"

  Emma felt her stomach tighten. She forced a smile up at Cathy Bannaconni.

  "My dear, may I call you Emma? I feel so bad about our unfortunate first meeting and was hoping for an opportunity to apologize and maybe explain?" The older woman held out her hand, smiling bravely.

  Emma automatically took the woman's hand. Cathy patted her hand and then pulled away. As she did so, her sharp, bloodred nail raked across Emma's inner wrist.

  Emma's hand jerked, although she managed not to spill her wine. A long, angry scratch beaded blood along her wrist.

  Cathy gasped. "Oh no! I'm so sorry. How clumsy of me. Let me get you a napkin." She hurried away before Emma could protest, returning with a linen cloth dipped in cold water. "I really shouldn't wear my nails so long. It's just a weird little habit of mine."

  Emma wrapped the cloth along the stinging scratch, holding the cool, soothing wetness against the angry slice. "I'm fine. It's really nothing."

  "You're so sweet to be so understanding." Cathy gave a long-suffering sigh. "I'm certain my son has told you all sorts of stories about me. Now I've probably added to my terrible image after our disastrous first meeting."

  "Jake doesn't talk about you," Emma said.

  Cathy's eyes narrowed. She inhaled sharply. A slow, humorless smile curved her mouth. "That's good, dear. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I was so concerned about my grandson. Jake can be quite cruel." Her gaze dwelt on the fading bruises still evident on Emma's skin. "But having lived with him these past two years, I'm sure you're already very aware of that."

  Emma's murmur was noncommittal. She glanced up as Jake turned to check on her. He raised an eyebrow and she shook her head, indicating she could handle the conversation with his mother. There had to be a reason Cathy Bannaconni had sought her out, and she was going to find out what the reason was.

  "I have something you might like, dear," Cathy said. "Now that you'll be my daughter-in-law. I read the announcement in the papers. There was quite a write-up, although they said very little about your family and their connections. I thought that strange, didn't you?"

  Emma stiffened, going still inside. She took a sip of the wine Jake had brought to her. He had been very specific not to accept a drink or allow it to leave her hand, even for a moment. When Cathy scratched her, she'd retained possession of the fine, long-stemmed glass, and when she was forced to put it down, to lay the cooling cloth across the scratch, she'd watched her drink carefully. What did Cathy know about her?

  "Aren't you even curious what I have? It belonged to your father."

  She waited a heartbeat. Two. She needed the time to keep her voice normal. "How would you have something that belonged to my father?"

  "Miss? Would you care for something to eat?" A young waiter presented a tray first to Emma and, when she shook her head, to Cathy. Emma barely concealed a smile as she recognized Sean. She felt much safer and her stomach settled a little.

  Impatiently Cathy waved him off. "Your father was a dear friend of mine."

  The words were tainted with untruth.

  A shadow fell across her as a large, extremely handsome man loomed over her. He must have been in his sixties, but he looked younger. There was that same sensual stamp on his face, that mark of dangerously alluring cruelty to his mouth that Jake had, although he looked nothing at all like Jake. She stared up at his eyes. He looked vaguely familiar, although she was certain she'd never seen him before. She inhaled deeply and scented depravity.

  "This is Josiah, dear. Josiah Trent. Josiah, this is Jake's delightful fiancee. Josiah is your father's uncle, dear."

  For a moment she couldn't breathe. She actually felt dizzy, the room spinning alarmingly. She looked around, her vision blurring a little. Sean, instead of circulating around the room, was hovering just a few feet away, and that steadied her a little. Two men, just beyond the couch, were watching her intently, eyes narrowed and focused, and she sensed evil in the pair. Drake was just to the right of her, leaning one hip against the wall, talking, but she knew he was watching her every move. Joshua wasn't in her line of vision, which meant he was somewhere behind her. Jake was across the room, within shouting distance, although the music and conversations seemed abnormally loud all of a sudden. Emma let out her breath, forcing herself to remain calm. She was safe as long as she was out in the open.

  "My father's uncle? You're my father's uncle?"

  Trent enveloped her hand with his, patting as if to soothe her. One finger slid over the cloth on her wrist, pressing it deeper against the scratch on her arm so that it burned and she jerked her arm away. "You have no idea how long we've been searching for you. After my
nephew's death, we lost track of you. It seems Jake managed to find and . . ." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Win you for himself."

  Emma extracted her hand and took another sip of wine. Her gaze met Sean's. Immediately he shifted off the wall and hurried over, bending down with the tray. It gave her a few moments to think as she chose a small bacon-wrapped quiche.

  "Thank you. These are delicious." She knew she sounded grateful, which would only give Cathy and Trent an advantage. They would know they were getting to her.

  "You're supposed to circulate," Cathy hissed to the waiter. She made an odd noise deep in her throat, somewhere between a growl and a rumble that was menacingly soft. Her eyes glowed ruby red in the dim light.

  "Yes, ma'am," he said and moved away.

  Emma felt like she'd lost an ally but she was determined not to signal Jake. She had to trust Drake and his team. Jake stood tall and straight, very distinctive, even in a room filled with many powerful men. Whatever revelations Cathy was going to tell would not come with Jake close. She took a breath and made herself smile blandly up at the two hovering over her. Their eyes were hard, calculating, and she knew they were every bit the predator that Jake was.

  Her breath caught in her lungs. She had the urge to run while she could. This was a society she didn't want to understand or want to be part of. "You were looking for me?" she murmured softly, an encouragement to tell her more.

  Trent shifted position just enough to block her view of Jake--or to block Jake's view of her. The movement was subtle, but with Emma's heightened awareness, she caught it.

  "Long before you were born, Bradley, your father, was quite the ladies' man. He was very good-looking and charming, and few women could resist him. We wanted a particular woman in our family. One . . ." He smiled, baring his teeth as a shiver went through her. "One of a breeding and bloodline befitting our family. I paid Bradley a great deal of money to find and bring this woman to me."

  "We have the contract he signed, dear," Cathy said, leaning close. "Perhaps you would like to see it? It has some particular significance to you."

  Emma felt trapped, caged in, and something inside of her shifted, going from fear to survival mode. Very carefully she set the wineglass on the table next to her and looked up at Cathy. "Why would a contract my father signed before I was born have any significance to me?"

  Trent's body swayed slightly, his head moving but his eyes still. "He owes me still."

  Emma's eyebrow shot up. "What does he owe you? And as he's dead, how can that in any way impact me?"

  "You're what he owes me." Trent smiled and leaned down slightly, running his hand over her cloth-covered arm again.

  Her eyebrow shot up again. "My father owes you his child?"

  "His wife, actually. I financed his trip to the rain forest and he was to bring me a suitable young woman. Instead, he betrayed us and married her. He took the money and went on the run with her. He stole from me, both the woman and the money."

  Emma knew, with the strange sixth sense she had, that he was telling her the truth. Her childhood had been spent on the run, never staying in one place long, never permanently buying a home and going to school like other children. There were weeks in a place, then abruptly they left with no explanation. And perhaps, a little chilling voice rose up, it explained why someone had tortured her father.

  Someone looking for her? Or perhaps someone punishing him. Was she looking at the man who had murdered her parents?

  "I see." What could she say? The revelation that she was related to Josiah Trent sickened her. She now knew a little of how Jake must feel with tainted blood flowing in his veins. And her beloved father had gone to the rain forest and seduced her mother with the intent of selling her to Trent. To say that she was shocked at her father was an understatement.

  "Jake is the same ruthless type of man. I feel responsible for you," Trent said, his voice softening, almost hypnotic. "He's very dangerous. We've tried to minimize the damage he does to others, but I'm sure you've seen him in action. Very few can stand up to him. He knew about you and your parents after finding the contract and he decided to have you for himself. After he dumped my . . ." Trent's throat tightened, he choked, his voice coming out clogged and grief-stricken. "My daughter, she never recovered, turning to alcohol to drown her sorrows."

  Cathy laid her hand on Trent's arm to comfort him.

  It was all very plausible, but Emma had every sense alert, and the part of her that ferreted out lies was heightened to the point of screaming at her. Neither Trent nor Cathy cared in the least about Shaina's death. She shifted position slightly, with every intention of getting up. Her head spun and her mind refused to react. Her heart began to pound as she realized she'd definitely been drugged. Either the wine or . . . She tore the cloth from the open scratch and dropped it onto the floor.

  "He's my son," Cathy said, one hand fluttering to her throat. "But he was born with a streak of cruelty. He has plans for you. I only want to protect you."

  Emma's gaze fixed on the long, sharpened nails as each pressed again and again against Cathy's bare throat. The movement fascinated her, mesmerized her, so that she couldn't look around, her arms feeling tired, hanging heavy at her sides. Had she poisoned Emma with those long nails? Was that possible?

  "I don't need protection," she murmured. Her voice was nearly as fuzzy as her brain.

  Josiah smirked at her, his teeth bared like a wild animal about to enjoy a meal. "Don't be so certain of that." He picked up her hand and let it drop.

  Her arm felt like lead. She couldn't control the movement. A part of her went into panic mode and she struggled to call out to Jake. Her throat closed. She hadn't tasted a drug. The wine couldn't have been drugged. Evan had poured the glass himself and Jake had given it to her. It had to be the scratch or the cloth Cathy had put on the scratch. Something introduced directly into her bloodstream.

  She forced her head up in an effort to look for Jake. There was a wealth of people between them, blocking her view. The two men just across from the couch had moved forward fast, their speed nearly a blur, their eyes glowing. Fear skittered down her spine as she tried to find Drake or Joshua.

  Trent had her on her feet, an arm around her waist, Cathy on the other side of her. It took four steps and they were in another room, hastily locking the door to drop her on the couch. It wasn't either of them she feared the most; it was the man who followed them into the room while another stood just inside the door watching with hungry eyes.

  Cathy put her hand on Emma's body, down low near her ovaries. "She's close to her first heat, Josiah. I don't know if she's ready yet, but we have to try."

  She looked at the man approaching them. Low, warning growls emanated from his chest. His head moved back and forth, but his heated gaze never left Emma.

  Trent and Cathy hastily pushed Emma down onto the floor and stepped away from her, continuing to back up as the man approached and circled her limp body.

  "Rory, you must get your scent all over her for this to work," Trent advised. "She's in heat and it will drive Jake into the madness. Once he smells you all over her, if he doesn't kill her, he'll throw her out or scare her so badly she'll run from him. Loyalty is everything to him. Without his protection, nothing will stand in our way. We'll be able to get her. She'll disappear and no one will be the wiser."

  Emma opened her mouth to scream for Jake, but nothing came out. The one they called Rory snarled, his lips drawn back to reveal a mouthful of menacing teeth as he got closer to her.

  The man guarding the door snarled too, suddenly moving forward in a challenging manner. "Why him? I'm bigger. Stronger. She should be mine."

  Trent held up his hand, moving around Emma's body in a circular pattern as well. "I will dispense with both of your services. I'll take her myself."

  "No!" Cathy leapt forward and caught at his arm. "We need a cub. They're shifters. They can't take a chance."

  Trent slapped her hard, driving her away from him. Cath
y turned in the air, landing in a crouch. "Don't you see? You're every bit as affected as they are." She spun to face the other man coming from where he'd been standing by the door. "Clayton, get back. We're paying you to guard the room, not to screw her."

  To Emma's horror, Rory leapt on top of her, blanketing her body with his, tearing at his clothes to rub his skin over her dress, his tongue licking at her face, his glands marking her in his scent. He rolled her over, uncaring of her limp body, doing the same along her back and buttocks.

  Cathy caught up a camera. "We can sell the pictures to one of the rag magazines."

  Emma summoned every ounce of will she possessed, calling on the wild part of her that usually lay so dormant but now seemed closer to the surface. She slammed backward, catching Rory's face with the back of her head and rolling fast to get out from under him when he reared up. She pulled her knees to her chest, although she felt as if she were moving in slow motion. There was a roaring in her ears, but she refused to give in to the fog in her brain.

  JAKE turned his head to find a solid wall of people cutting off his line of sight to Emma just as Conner reported, "I've lost sight of her."

  Drake snapped, "Joshua, do you have her in sight?" He was already on the move, shoving people out of his way to get to the sofa.

  Jake spoke into the small Bluetooth. "Evan, do you have Emma in your sight?"

  The bartender shook his head. "Trent and Bannaconni are also gone. So are the two thugs they hired for the evening."

  Jake swore. "Drake, Joshua, call them in. Call them in now." He was already pushing through the crowd. He was a big man, enormously strong and not afraid of hurting anyone. The sea of people parted, but there was no Emma on the couch. He swore, furious at her because she hadn't listened.

  He was already close to the edge of his control, realizing that if Emma was in fact one of his species, she had to be close to her first true heat. He had experienced the maddening thrall once before and he could feel the temper and dominance of his kind raking at his belly and churning with a black rage. His body was hard and hurting, and every bone and muscle ached with the effort to hold back the change. Now she was gone and the scent of male cat was strong.