L06 Leopard's Prey

by Christine Feehan

  Remy let his breath out and sat up straighter. There it was. The confirmation he was looking for. “It’s all right, Saria . . .”

  “No, it’s not,” Saria was adamant. “I don’ want to be that kind of person, especially toward a friend of mine. I’ve never cared about anyone being attractive—which she is. She needs me right now. She’s afraid of somethin’ and she’s come home. I can’t turn into a jealous, spitting, nasty cat because I’m pregnant.”

  “I doubt that’s it,” Remy soothed.

  She glared at him. “What else could it be? I’m never like this. I don’ cling to my husband. I don’ distrust him around other women. I’ve never been just plain mean, especially to him. He doesn’t say anythin’, but I know he’s going to soon and I’ll deserve anythin’ he says.”

  “He’ll understand,” Remy assured. Drake was a patient man, quick to explode into violence only when needed. As a rule he was quite calm and thoughtful. Remy couldn’t imagine him getting impatient with Saria.

  “I wish it was just Drake,” Saria said. “I’m so jealous of poor Bijou I could spit. Sometimes, with no warnin’ I just want to leap on her and scratch her eyes out, and that’s a polite way of saying what I really want to do.”

  She blinked rapidly, and his heart jumped. Saria was definitely fighting tears and it wasn’t fair to her to let her think she had suddenly become a jealous woman because she was pregnant and felt terrified at the thought of being a mother because she had no parenting.

  “I think Bijou’s leopard and she’s on the verge of the Han Vol Dan,” Remy stated quietly.

  In the ensuing silence, Remy heard the clock tick and the rapid beat of his sister’s heart. Her eyes went wide with shock. Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged. She shook her head. He nodded.

  Saira frowned, jumping up to pace restlessly. She shook her head again. “Remy. No. That’s impossible. Her father . . .”

  “I know her father was no leopard, but we know nothin’ of her mother or her mother’s family. It’s entirely possible and I’m almost certain I’m right. Your leopard would react to the close proximity of a female leopard on the verge of the Han Vol Dan. Basically, she’s comin’ into heat around your male and you’re pregnant.”

  “That’s just crazy.” She kept shaking her head. “Bijou is . . .”

  Remy felt his leopard leap in protest, or maybe it was the man. “Don’ say she isn’t strong. You don’ know the half of what she’s been through. Anyone can reach a breakin’ point, Saria. Bijou found her way when she was just a child and she’s still going strong.”

  Saria didn’t reply. She simply looked at him, and there was accusation in her eyes. He knew he’d made a mistake jumping to Bijou’s defense when Saria hadn’t actually said anything disparaging. He didn’t make mistakes like that—and Saria knew it. He cursed silently in his native Cajun French, keeping his expression blank.

  “Remy . . . no. You are not goin’ to chase after her. I mean it. You’ve already made her cry.” She regarded with him with her dark brown eyes, her steady stare a mix of leopard and human, eyes already taking on the glow of her leopard. “I hear her at night. She won’t talk to me about it so I know she’s cryin’ over you.”

  “I hear her too,” Remy admitted, stretching, trying to ease sore muscles. Saria’s couch was very comfortable and he wished he’d been sleeping on it. He was getting too old to be sleeping in a little chair on a cold balcony, which he’d done for three nights running. “What makes you think I have anything at all to do with her cryin’?”

  “Because I know you, Remy. You make people confess to anythin’ and you no doubt made that poor girl cry.” Saria put both hands on her hips and stared him down. “You’ve been grillin’ that girl about something and she’s upset.” She leveled her glare at him. “You haven’t touched her, have you?”

  “That’s none of your business, ma soeur. She’s got a stalker after her. She’s not takin’ it very seriously, but, Saria, I’m tellin’ you this man is dangerous and he’s not going to stop. He’s extremely dangerous, the kind that ends up killin’ the woman if he can’t have her.”

  Saria was silent for a moment, but those cat’s eyes never left his face. She shook her head again. “What are you up to, Remy?”

  “He’s not going to like her havin’ a man in her life. He’ll get mad and make a mistake, and I’ll be there to take him down.”

  “No.” Saria stated the word quite fiercely.

  For a woman so much younger than he was, Remy had to admire her courage. He wasn’t a man most people—man or woman—ever chose to go up against. His little sister had no such qualms. He raised his eyebrow and remained silent.

  “I mean it, Remy. She’s . . . susceptible. You can’t pretend to be her boyfriend just to bring some stalker out into the open. I know you. You’ll decide she can’t know because she won’t act natural. You can’t pretend to care for her . . .”

  They both scented lavender and leopard at the exact same moment. Remy was already gliding toward the door, more leopard than man in that moment. His leopard went wild—crazy. Snarling and raking, desperate to emerge. He couldn’t imagine what Saria’s cat was like, scenting a female close to her time.

  “I’ll go.” He managed to bite out the two words. “You get out of here. Go to my house in the bayou.”

  Saria was definitely struggling to control her female. “She heard me, Remy.” Her voice had gone husky, gravelly, fur running under her skin as her leopard fought for supremacy.

  His breath hissed out of his lungs. There was no more doubt, Bijou was definitely leopard and she was close to the emerging. Every single male in the lair would be driven insane, and Drake, the only voice of reason, was gone. Remy cursed as he padded down the hall on silent feet. Bijou had heard every word Saria had said and she would believe it was true. It smacked of being true. There was no doubt he was a man who might do that very thing to bring a dangerous adversary into the light. There was every reason for Bijou to believe what Saria said. Hell. Saria believed it and she was his sister.

  He moved swiftly through the halls, following the scent of the elusive female leopard. Bijou would have no idea why her emotions were all over the place. She had no idea what was happening to her—or what could happen. His lair was fucked up. There was no other word for it. They’d been isolated for so long and had no idea of the way leopard society worked—until Drake had shown up.

  Some had intermarried and produced—monsters. Others had married outside of the leopard society and weakened the lair as generations failed to produce offspring. It was a complicated situation even as Drake tried to provide guidance for them. He sent the younger men to the rain forests in the hopes of finding mates, and that was difficult. Once any of the males got a whiff of a female coming into the Han Von Dan they would be all over her.

  Remy’s lips drew back in a snarl. No one would be safe. Bijou had to be claimed immediately and thoroughly so there was no doubt she was taken. Without that, chaos would reign and the males could easily turn on one another. Drake was working magic on the lair, but it was difficult to overcome generations of problems.

  Remy knew the exact moment Bijou was aware he was pursuing her. Her soft footfalls sped up and almost immediately a draft rushed through the house as she went through the front door and raced toward her car. He used his animal, the cat already sensing the desirable female running from him. He leapt after her, covering twenty feet in a single jump. His leopard could easily reach thirty-five miles an hour when running. She was fumbling with the car keys, her hands trembling, hurting, as her cat rose close to the surface. She tried to unlock the car door when he landed behind her, reached around and took the keys from her hand.

  Bijou spun around fast, striking out. His leopard saved him from a swift rake of nails. Her female had leapt to Bijou’s defense, claws springing out for one moment to keep her human safe from attack. The claws barely missed him, and he glided back a few more steps just to be certain he was out of the
danger zone.

  Bijou clearly had no idea what just happened, or that her eyes were glowing an almost aquamarine blue. Her skin was nearly translucent, her hair wild. He’d never seen a woman so passionate or so alluring. His leopard had already gone insane, reacting to hers and the pheromones she was throwing out, demanding his human claim her immediately, whether she was ready or not.

  Remy lifted his face to test the wind, worried that it was blowing in the direction of the bayou where so many other males might catch that elusive and potent scent. The need for sex was riding her hard, and if he read the situation correctly, she was on her way into town just for that specific purpose. Bijou, who clearly wasn’t a one-night stand kind of woman, had to be scared and confused.

  “Give me my car keys,” she hissed at him.

  His blood sang hotly in his veins. His body was on fire, aching. In need. He tasted lavender in his mouth, breathed it into his lungs. He watched her closely, unblinking, focused. The eyes of the leopard, not the man. Slowly he shook his head. “I don’ think so, Blue. You’re goin’ into town lookin’ for somethin’ you’re going to regret tomorrow.”

  Swift color surged up her neck into her face. “That’s none of your business.” She held out her hand for the keys.

  Remy knew he had already passed the point of no return. He had never experienced such an urgent, all-consuming need. He recognized her in some strange way. He knew they would burn hot and out of control, almost as if he knew every curve, as if they’d done this all before. He caught her wrist and yanked her to him, his other fist tangling in her hair to jerk her head back as he brought his mouth down hard on hers. The world around him exploded, turned red, the ground shifting as her body melted into his.

  Leopards were rough at sex, even brutal at times, and Remy’s leopard was always close to the surface, his savage nature riding him hard in any situation, but far worse when it came to sex. Even at work he had to keep his temper in check, keep the intense emotions from surfacing, so he was always, always in control. Until now. Something in him snapped when his mouth found hers. All his icy control was gone, leaving nothing but hot flames burning like a wildfire out of control.

  He devoured her mouth. Gave her no chance to breathe—or protest. His tongue demanded entrance, sliding along the seam of her lips, and she opened for him. He poured himself inside, nearly frantic to be skin to skin. Her hands slid under his shirt and he knew he was lost. She made small noises in her throat, an urgent kind of mewing, desperate to get as close to him as he needed to be close to her.

  With his last vestige of sanity, he caught her up and took her around the house, to the back where the lake lapped at the shore and prying eyes of stalkers and paparazzi cameras couldn’t possibly find them. He didn’t lift his head, kissing her over and over, long, drugging kisses that kept her unaware as he leapt to her balcony, and managed to open the sliding glass door to her bedroom.

  The moment he was inside, he shoved her up against the wall hard and ripped her blouse away, desperate to get at her soft skin. There was an ominous sound and he saw a crack spreading up the wall behind her back. He hadn’t realized just how urgently he’d needed to touch her. To claim her. It had been in his mind since the moment he’d set eyes on her. The wall didn’t matter or any damage to it, only removing every bit of material that stood between him and her soft skin.

  The last three nights he’d sat in a chair on her balcony while she slept, her silent sentinel. The scent of her filled his lungs and left him hard and hurting all night, unable to sleep even in the chair. He’d known she was his instinctively, but touching her confirmed it.

  She wore a lacy midnight blue bra, sexy as hell, her soft curves spilling over the tops, her nipples hard and erect, pushing through the lace to tempt him. Her breath came in ragged gasps, lifting her breasts toward his hungry mouth. Her rib cage was narrow, her waist small. The loose drawstring pants she wore rode low on her hips. She was so beautiful, so sensual, her body moving against his, her lips swollen with his kisses and her eyes slightly glazed.

  He pinned her against the wall with his body, lifting his hands to her breasts, feeling the supple weight, the exquisite softness of woman, before bending his head to taste. She gasped and caught his head to her, cradling him close, while her heart pounded in his ears and the scent and taste of her engulfed him.

  His mouth moved over soft flesh, tongue laving her nipples through the lace. He couldn’t wait another moment, yanking the bra down and away from treasure, so that the lace pushed her full breasts upward toward him all the more. He covered her right side with his palm, his mouth drawing her left breast deep into his mouth. She moaned and writhed against him, tightening her hold on his head and pushing herself tightly into him. Her leg slipped higher, so that the soft cushion of the vee between her thighs rode his hip, inflaming him further. She was so damned sexy he was losing his mind.

  He fed on her breasts, first one, then the other, tugging and rolling her nipples, his teeth nipping, tongue sliding over the ache to ease it. She was sensitive to his every touch, to his mouth and hands and he felt her reaction, the shudder of her body, her hips bucking against him, the grinding of her body tighter along his thigh. He needed her to burn just as hot as he was. She had to want him as much.

  Bijou was on fire, burning from the inside out. Her body didn’t feel as if it was her own, yet was more of a fit than she’d ever felt before, which made no sense to her. She’d been fine, sitting in her room, going through the plans for the renovation of her apartment above the club, when she suddenly couldn’t sit still. A tidal wave of urgent demand swept over her.

  Her breasts ached and tingled. Felt swollen and needy. Her skin was too tight and far too sensitive. Even her clothes hurt. Wave after wave of heat surged through her body, rushed through her veins and pooled low and mean. She couldn’t stop moving, her body rippling with sensual sensations she couldn’t hope to control. She’d fled her room, trying to run away from herself and the way her skin itched and her groin throbbed with need.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known Remy had gone all protective on her. He was that kind of man. She knew that going into it. She knew he felt responsible for her and admitting to him she was afraid of one of her stalkers had set him off. His kiss had ignited a fire and she couldn’t put it out, no matter how many times she reminded herself his kiss had been for the cameras and the tabloids to draw out her stalker. So why had it hurt so much to hear Saria confirm what she already knew? Why had it felt as if she’d been stabbed through the heart?

  She ran, her mind in chaos, her body in such urgent need she could barely catch her breath. She had never run from anything. She was a fighter, or she made a decision with her brain, not impulsively. Yet, this time, she couldn’t think. She couldn’t stop the blood coursing so hotly through her body. Running was the only thing to do. She had no idea what she would do when she got into town. Certainly she couldn’t have been looking for a one-night stand . . . And then Remy was there, so calm and cool, so totally in charge, like nothing ever got to him.

  He’d taken control, like he always did, in that charming, you’re-so-young and I’m-so-grown-up-and-in-command infuriating way of his. She both detested and loved his confidence, and that just showed her how truly screwed up she really was. When he’d taken her car keys right out of her hand, smirking at her, she’d experienced a truly frightening fury.

  She didn’t have a temper. Certainly not one with such intensity that it would cause an all-consuming reckless, rash, idiotic compulsion to slash Remy in his face. She wanted to rip his face right off his skull—to wipe that smug, self-confident smirk right off his face forever. For a moment, she even thought of leaping on him and biting him. So very un-Bijou-like. There had been a roaring in her ears. Her hands ached, knuckles swollen until her fingers curled like claws and she could barely stand it.

  And then he yanked her to him.

  Her stomach bottomed out and the throbbing between her legs turned into a terribl
e drumbeat of savage need. His hand fisted in her hair and dragged her head back. The bite of pain should have had her kicking and screaming and running for her life, but instead, her body had flooded with a hot, welcoming liquid. Every cell in her body reached for him. Something wild and uninhibited rose like a tidal wave from somewhere deep inside her.

  She was lost in the flames. In the intensity of his lust and her own. She didn’t even know she could feel so much. There was no turning back. No brakes. No thought. Only feeling. He’d ignited a firestorm, and there was no putting it out for either of them. She wanted to be closer to him, skin to skin. Anything else hurt. She could hear herself making frantic, mewling noises, desperation showing, but she couldn’t stop herself. His mouth was like a fountain of fire, a haven of molten gold she could never get enough of.

  It was the most frightening, scary, exhilarating feeling she’d ever had. Her body felt more feminine than it had ever been. She was acutely aware of every curve and the effect she had on Remy’s body. She reveled in her ability to inflame him, to drive him over the edge into madness, and yet, at the same time, she was terrified—because she couldn’t stop. There was no stopping. No way to take a breath and just step back and think.

  Her body drove her, not her brain. Not her heart. She needed his hands on her body. His mouth at her breast, his fingers inside of her. She needed him to fill her, to take the emptiness away, that terrible burning that refused to let up, consuming her with desperate lust for this one man.

  He shifted her until he had cradled her in his arms, close to his chest, his mouth still feeding on hers, devouring her. She couldn’t get enough of his kisses, consumed by the taste of him, the wild exotic spice she was fast becoming addicted to. She felt herself floating, levitating, moving through the air as if in the clouds. The cool breeze from the lake rushing through the trees added to the intensity of sensation.