Deep inside the leopard, Jake went on alert. He was on the verge of an important discovery. Drake couldn’t live without his leopard forever. Drake wasn’t a leopard. He wasn’t a man. He was both. Together. The man needed the leopard and the leopard needed the man. One couldn’t survive long without the other. Drake’s leopard lived inside him, but he couldn’t run free. Couldn’t run and breathe and feel the joy of the leopard as it raced in open territory or leapt leisurely from one branch to the next. What was the leopard doing? Thinking? Feeling? He couldn’t survive long in such a state, and neither would Drake.

So what of his own leopard? What had he given to it? What had he done for it? He had closed himself off from that part, careful to protect himself. He feared the leopard would make him into his parents and allow the animalistic qualities in his nature free rein. But running free night after night had calmed his rage, allowed him to escape the pain of his nightmarish childhood. All along, even as a toddler, way before the leopard had emerged, the leopard had given him the strength to endure.

Drake had traveled thousands of miles with him on faith alone, willing to give up part of his life, his own need and love of the rain forest, in order to instruct Jake in his heritage. Money meant little to Drake. It was merely a means to an end, a tool with which to do the things he felt necessary. He had come to Texas only to aid Jake. As always, Jake had distrusted every kindness. And he distrusted the leopard—his other half. The leopard had waited for him, for his acceptance, rising only when Jake needed his strength, when something—or someone—triggered his instincts or when Jake needed to disappear and run free. Not once had Jake shared himself as Drake had told him was necessary for full development.

He was afraid. The realization stunned him. He had thought himself long past fear. He had survived when others would never have made it, and he’d survived through sheer guts and determination, in the midst of a wild storm, his sides heaving, sweat darkening his fear, panting with horror when he’d known all along what lay within him. Jake didn’t want to give himself to anyone, not to the children, not to the leopard and certainly not to Emma. They were to be his. Controlled by him. Dictated to in his perfect world that he built and ruled.

All along, Drake had told him he had to let go. With his heart pounding, he tasted terror in his mouth. If he let go and the leopard swallowed him, he was lost. If he loved his children and something happened to them, his heart would be torn out. If he gave himself to Emma and she threw him away, he would not survive.

The leopard put his head down on his paws and wept, tears mingling with the raindrops as the storm begin to abate. He had always refused to think of himself as a victim. He had survived because he was strong and it had been his choice not to fight back. He hadn’t allowed the leopard to leap upon his enemies and rend and tear until they were no more, although more than once he had raged inside to do so. His control had always been his proof to himself that he was different. To let that go, to trust, to give, was truly terrifying.

For the first time in Jake’s life, he realized he might not be strong enough to overcome the trauma of his childhood. He had never acknowledged to himself that he had been abused. It had been a way of life and he had learned lessons, very hard lessons, but they shaped him into a successful man—and an even more successful businessman. He thought of himself as untouchable, and in most ways he was. He had the reputation of being too rich, too politically connected, too ruthless and too dangerous to mess with.

But he was afraid of himself. His biggest enemy was inside of him. Drake had said he couldn’t live separate from his leopard, and if he didn’t embrace the beast, welcome it and learn to use what he considered failings as strengths, he would never really be alive. And eventually the leopard would fight him every inch of the way. He didn’t want to chance it. Everything in him rebelled, but he was dangerously close to hurting Emma, to destroying his home—the only home he’d ever known.

The leopard stretched out his paws and raked deep into the earth. Night settled in, bringing the sounds of insects and owls hunting prey. He lay quiet, listening to the endless cycle of life, knowing he couldn’t give Emma up. She was supposed to need him. The children were supposed to need him. He could accept that and he’d be an incredible partner, seeing to everything for them, but he didn’t want to feel that attachment himself. He couldn’t have that.

He argued with himself for hours before he finally knew he had no choice. He couldn’t risk turning himself over to something as cruel and bad-tempered as his enemies. Their blood ran in his veins. Their leopards may not have emerged fully, as his had, but the traits were bred into them and they lacked the control he had learned over the years. He had managed to turn the leopard from Drake, even in the midst of its enraged madness, and he would not give it even a small amount of control. He wouldn’t risk losing Emma and the children—or himself.

Jake emerged from the woods barefoot, shirtless and still buttoning the jeans Drake and Joshua had thoughtfully left hanging in the branch of a tree for him. Drake sat out in the rain, in the bed of the pickup, and as Jake approached, his head went up, alert, and he immediately jumped down. In spite of his leg injury, he still moved with a fluid grace that often caught Jake off guard.

“Are you all right? I thought about sending Joshua to find you, but . . .” Drake trailed off.

Jake shrugged his shoulders. “You thought I might try to tear him to pieces.”

Drake’s answering smile was faint. “Something like that.”