Her eyes searched his face. Very slowly she turned until her back was to him and she lifted the T-shirt.

Drake stared in absolute horror at the four long furrows down Saria’s back. For a moment he was paralyzed, unable to move or speak. His leopard went mad, roaring so loud he drowned out every other sound. For a leopard to abuse a female that way was unconscionable. For such an atrocity to be committed against Saria was not to be borne.

He stalked across the floor, looming over her. His fingers ached, knuckles curling. Sweat broke out as he fought off the change. Fur slithered over his skin in a wave and retreated. His leopard growled and hissed, storming at him, raging at the injustice. The need for violence was sharp and powerful.

5

SARIA sensed danger immediately. On the wall, she saw the shadow of a man loom over her, although she didn’t hear him. His shadow was large and frightening, a tall, broad-shouldered masculine frame that seemed to dwarf her. He smelled wild, feral, leopard. She had smelled that particular scent before. Every cell in her body froze. Panic welled up. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her knife.

What had she been thinking, putting herself in such a position? She knew Drake was leopard, some instinct had waras so cler, yet she’d felt such a deep compulsion to be with him. She should have been repelled by the killer inside of him, but instead, she was so drawn into his spell she could barely breathe. She couldn’t stop the shiver that went down her spine, or the ache between her legs. She felt so on edge, her skin tight, her breasts aching, so sensitive that she swore there was an electrical current between her erect nipples and her vagina—and him.

She glanced over her shoulder. Drake’s gaze drifted over her, marking her, his eyes heavy-lidded, hot, so sensual she couldn’t look away from him. He looked hungry, a predator intent on prey, and her body had come alive after being in a long sleep. She wanted him. Oh, God, she wanted him with every cell in her body. The chemistry between them was intense, much like a strong electrical current. The shock waves raced through her body, settling in every nerve ending until her skin crawled with need.

Drake Donovan made her so aware of herself as a woman when she was near him. And so aware of him as a man. Somehow all that chemistry had drowned out her good sense and she’d walked right into his lair. She could feel heat radiating off of him, infecting her with some wild hunger she couldn’t resist, no matter how terrifying it was. She should have been poised to run, but instead she held her breath and waited for him to touch her. She craved his touch.

“Did he bite you?”

His voice was a velvet whisper sliding over her skin like the touch of fingers. His breath was warm on her neck. Masculine heat surrounded her. She closed her eyes and remained still. Her mouth was so dry she could barely manage to get out a single word. “Yes.” Her heart pounded hard, the blood rushing hot through her veins. Sweat trickled down the valley between her breasts. Moisture dampened her cotton boy shorts.

His fingers skimmed down one of the long furrows in her skin, the lightest of touches, but she felt it burning like a brand through her skin to her very bones. Her breath left her lungs in a single gasp.

“Where?”

His mouth was against the raw wound, his lips brushing lightly, the most sensual thing she’d ever experienced. Lightning forked through her body. He kissed his way up the long wound, the shirt bunched in his fist. Electricity coursed through every fiber of her body as if his lips were connected in some way to her nerves. She could feel his knuckles sliding up her back along with the shirt. Nothing had prepared her for the way her body came alive at his touch. Her mind, her body, every part of her responded to his presence.

It was both frightening and exhilarating to feel as if a part of her was slipping away to join with a part of him. She should stop him, it was hardly decent, but she was already lost under the spell of his mouth. His lips felt soft and whispery against her skin, cool and firm, but at the same time, left behind tiny little flames that burned hot.

She heard his breath catch as he pushed her shirt high enough to reveal the bite mark on her shoulder. His lips drifted over her skin, tasting her, branding her in the most exquisite way. His touch was always feather-light, yet she felt as if his prints sank into her skin and found their way to her bones.

“He marked you on purpose. It was clumsy and very wrong,” he said. “Who was he?”

This time there was an edge to that velvet voice, sending a shiver of fear down her spine.

“I don’ understand what that means,” she admitted, hating that her voice trembled.

He brushed his mouth over each of the puncture wounds on her shoulder and then abruptly dropped her shirt and stood up, backing away from her. The silence stretched to a screaming point. Reluctantly, Saria turned to face him, feeling very alone and lost.

Drake stood just inside the French doors, the rain coming down in silvery sheets behind him, silhouetting him. She tried not to stare, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He was physically beautiful to her. The width of his shoulders, the thickness of his chest, the ropes of muscles, so defined he seemed to ripple with power with every movement. His sensual voice and hypnotic eyes mesmerized. The intense sexual desire stamped into every line of his face made her want to give everything to him.

Her pulse pounded in her head—and throbbed between her legs. She felt hot and needy and restless. She didn’t know if she wanted to leap on him and ravage him, or claw at him. All she knew was her body crawled with need for him. The other leopard—the one he claimed had marked her—hadn’t left such a need behind, but Drake with his soft kisses had infected her with a violent ache that she doubted would ever go away.