Her training hadn’t stopped there. He worked with her on shifting fast. Shifting on the run. Disposing of her clothes in record time practically as she shifted, so she had every advantage. He’d made her practice over and over, hundreds of times until she was absolutely smooth and fast at it.

Still there was more. His male had taught her female how to maneuver, to get under her opponent, to avoid the stranglehold of his teeth. How to use her claws to her advantage, to turn in midair and to land in a defensive or offensive position.

Eli had cared enough to prepare her. Still, when he reluctantly told her Jake and he could bring Rafe down with her help, she’d felt sick inside. Part of it, she conceded, was that Eli had tried to force her to help them when he worked for the DEA. A tiny, tiny part of her was afraid he’d set her up again. She knew better. Deep down, she did. She knew better. But the nagging little monster that told her men like Eli couldn’t possibly love her had reared its ugly head.

Still, all that aside, and that was clearly her own sad little issue, why was it that she felt the need to protect Rafe? He was a killer. He needed to be brought to justice. Every minute he was loose in the world, innocent people could be killed just for his pleasure. His enjoyment. He liked to hunt them. He liked to kill. He would come back from his trips to the swamp almost euphoric.

And he hadn’t been the only one. She knew, even if Eli and Jake managed to kill Rafe, there were at least three more men under him who hunted victims let loose in the swamp with him. Women mostly, but occasionally someone who double-crossed Rafe.

My little leopard, can I just stay here, tucked into the safety of your protection, and never come out again?

If she could have, she would have put her hand on the animal and just held on. She needed something to hold on to. Someone to hold on to. To steady her. To tell her it was okay to the do the right thing and stop Rafe. That she wouldn’t be abandoning him as she’d felt so abandoned.

Her throat ached. Her eyes burned. The little leopard faltered. Stopped. Stood, head down in the middle of the path, shaking. The rain continued to pour down. At once the male moved close, rubbing his fur along the female’s side. Nuzzling her. Chuffing softly in inquiry. He extended his neck, chin on top of her head protectively.

Rafe had killed David Belmont, because of her. She’d liked David a lot. He owned his own coffee-house and was proud of it. He was funny and smart, and he’d taken a chance on her. She liked Bernard as well. He wrote great poetry and lived in a fantasy world, another era, but still, he was a unique and wonderful man and he didn’t deserve to die at the hands of a madman. She didn’t know Jase, only that once he’d drunkenly made a pass at her and displayed incredibly bad judgment. Eli had taken care of the situation and that should have been the end of it. The man probably didn’t even know her last name, and he certainly hadn’t deserved to die just because he’d crossed paths with her.

If she didn’t help Jake and Eli bring Rafe’s business down, someone else would take his place. They wouldn’t hunt in the swamp, but they killed in their own ways, by running drugs, and arms. By beating up and cheating the prostitutes who worked for them. Or giving the women to men like Rafe who murdered them.

She had no choice. There was no other choice. Her heart ached and she felt guilty, but even if she was silly enough to think she could help Rafe by going back to him, she knew she couldn’t. He was too far gone. Whatever had happened to him in his childhood, whatever had transformed him into a monster had a hold of him and wouldn’t let him go. She couldn’t save him. Sacrificing her happiness and Eli’s wouldn’t solve anything at all.

She shifted on the path, needing Eli’s arms around her. Needing the solid weight of his body surrounding hers. She didn’t try to stand, the heavy male’s head still was over hers, but she felt no fear. His fur was slick with rain, but soft and comforting against her bare skin.

Then Eli was there, his body wrapped around hers. His chest was over her back and his breath was warm on the nape of her neck. One arm slid around her waist.

“What is it, Kitten?” he asked softly. “Tell me what you need.”

Tell me what you need. His voice was there to steady her. A soft whisper of truth. All she had to do was say it, want it, wish for it, and Eli moved heaven and earth to provide it for her.

“You. I need you, Eli,” she answered, staring out into the trees, into the dark. She should have been afraid, on her hands and knees there in the rain, out in the open on a narrow path, with lightning forking in the distance and thunder rolling loudly. She should have been cold, but she wasn’t.

His hands answered her. His palms stroked her breasts, cupped them, fingers finding her nipples to roll and tug until fire streaked to her tight sheath. The sensation was incredible with the cool of the rain and sudden heat of her body.

His mouth whispered over her back, down her spine in little kisses. His tongue lapped at the droplets, until he found the dimples just above the curve of her buttocks.

“Right here, baby. We need to get that tattoo. It’s killing me. I can look at you, you belonging to me, whenever I take you like this.”

She turned her head then, her gaze burning into his. “You really want me to get a tattoo?” She watched him closely.

“Only if you want one.” His eyes held hers for a moment before he dropped his head to follow a little stream of rain along the slope of one firm cheek.

His tongue felt like hot velvet. He lapped at her, pushed at the insides of her thighs to force them wider so he could dip his head and taste her. Not just taste her. Eli never just tasted her. He devoured her. He became ravenous with the first dip of his tongue, and the sounds he made were those of a predatory animal, claiming his share of the food supply and declaring to the world he’d fight to the death for it.