Conner collapsed over her, his breathing as harsh as hers. She could hear his heart beating wildly as she linked her fingers behind his neck. She would have told him she loved him, but she couldn’t find enough air. He smiled and knelt back up, very slowly and deliberately running his hands from her breasts to belly and lower, and she knew it was a claiming. His. She loved being his.

She smiled at him, drinking him in there in the darkness. It felt to her like the perfect day. She had a fairy- tale wedding, and her leopard had finally emerged. She’d experienced running free as well as the kindness of strangers. They’d made love until neither could move and now they were here in their own little world where the ugliness of someone like Imelda Cortez couldn’t touch them.

“Some days are just perfection,” she whispered.

He leaned down again, kissing her mouth, nibbling on her lower lip and then licking his way down her throat to the slope of her left breast. “You are so beautiful to me, Isabeau. When I saw you walking toward me in that dress, my heart stopped.” He couldn’t bear to separate his body from hers. He knew her mouth would create miracles if he just gave her the chance, but her body was a cauldron of fire surrounding his. The little aftershocks rippling through her sent waves of pleasure spiraling through his belly and down his thighs.

“They were all so kind,” she said. She reached up to stroke his cheek—the four scars adding to the masculine perfection.

“I don’t want this to be over.” He threw his head back and looked up at the night sky. Stars were so thick the inky dark appeared milky.

“Silly man.” She pushed at him. “I love keeping you happy.”

Just her response was enough to send a surge of heat through his body. Leopards often could hear lies, and Isabeau never lied to him. She loved attending his body and she lavished him with her attention.

She laughed softly, feeling his erection thickening, growing harder as he gently pushed deeper into her. His fingers tightened on her hips as he lifted his head to the sky. The wind shifted just a little and Conner’s head snapped around, his eyes blazing as he scanned the tree line and canopy. Very slowly, he straightened, still on his knees, his body buried tight in hers. Deep inside his leopard snarled and raked, fury bursting through him.

He inhaled deeply and scented—enemy. It was a brief, barely there scent that disappeared almost immediately, as if the male leopard had shifted position with the wind. There was no warning from the canopy, nothing to indicate there was an enemy close, but Conner knew he wasn’t mistaken—he had scented another male leopard briefly. He remained still, his gaze sweeping the surrounding forest.

“Is something wrong?” Isabeau asked, recognizing the stillness in him. She started to turn her head, but he dug his fingers into her hips and surged forward, sending ripples of aftershocks spreading through her.

“Don’t move. Just look at me.”

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Is someone watching us?” She shivered, suddenly frightened. The rain forest had never scared her, yet now shadows seemed to be lurking behind every tree.

“He’s out there. Watching us.”

She didn’t have to ask who “he” was. Ottila Zorba. “How long has he been there?”

“I have no idea. We’re going inside. I want you to lock yourself in. You know how to shoot. I’ll call for backup and then I’m going to shift and hunt him.”

She wanted to shake her head, afraid for him. He pulled away from her and moved his body to block Ottila’s view of her while he helped her up and yanked open the door, nearly shoving her inside.

Ottila hadn’t cut the communication off, probably not wanting to tip them to his presence. Conner made the call to Rio and then began to move through the cabin, preparing to leave her.

“Wait for Rio, Conner,” Isabeau cautioned. “There’s something about him that’s just plain scary. I’ll feel better if you wait.”

His leopard wouldn’t let him. He doubted if the man would. She had no idea how much nature and instincts played a part in their lives, dominating even good sense at times. His cat raged, a black, jealous haze spreading through his mind. He dragged weapons out and showed each to her, taping one beneath the tabletop, putting another in a drawer, hiding four guns and two knives for her.

“He’ll be too busy trying to kill you,” Isabeau pointed out. “He doesn’t want to kill me, but he wants you dead. If that’s really him—and we don’t know for certain . . .”

“It’s him,” Conner said with certainty. “My cat knows it’s him. Lock the doors, Isabeau. Stay inside and keep the lights out. I’ll call out when I return, otherwise you shoot anything that tries to get in.”

She clung to him. “Please just listen to me this once. It’s you he’s after. He wants you dead. He wants you to go into the forest after him. Otherwise, why tip you off to his presence?”

“No one can predict the wind shifting like that. He was caught and he’s probably halfway to the next village by now, running like a rabbit.”

She knew better, knew Ottila had no intention of running. Her heart pounded with fear for Conner. He was supremely confident, but he hadn’t actually met Ottila as she had. The rogue leopard changed his spots continually, and she had a feeling he was hiding something.

Conner gently put her from him, leaned down and kissed her just once. Then he lifted the back window and shifted as he dove through. He disappeared almost at once into the shadows. Isabeau closed and locked the window, and then drew the shutters, making certain all of them were in place and no one would be able to come through a window.