His offer was the last thing she expected. He seemed so reasonable. He didn’t move toward her, which helped her maintain her composure.

“Even if I left a note trying to convince them that I went voluntarily with you, they’d come after us,” she said. “You know that.”

He shrugged, and it was impossible not to see the ropes of defined muscle ripple across his chest, arms and belly.

“So really, you know you’d still have to kill him. I wouldn’t be saving his life by going with you, only causing him distress.” She tilted her head and regarded him steadily over the top of her teacup. “I’m in love with him.”

“You’ll get over that in time.” His gaze didn’t leave her face. “If you come voluntarily, I’ll give you a little time to forget him. Your cat will help by accepting me.”

She could see he thought he was making a huge concession to her. It was frightening, walking a tightrope, trying to placate him, stall him and keep from triggering a violent outburst. He was too controlled and she was terrified of him. She moistened her lower lip with the tip of her tongue and set her cup aside, dropping her hands to her sides on the pretext of hiding her trembling fingers. She knew he caught the shaking, he was too focused on her not to, but she had to find a way to check the cushions.

He shook his head and sprang again, the leap taking him to the side of her chair. “I told you, I removed the weapons. The knife was down the right side. Do you think I’m stupid?” There was an edge to his voice.

“No. But I’m very scared,” she admitted, shifting a little from him as she tried to find the right words to reach him.

His hand anchored in her hair, preventing her from moving even an inch from him. “This is your chance to save him, Isabeau. I’m offering it once because it will be more difficult for you to forgive me if I kill him, but I will.”

His face was inches from hers, a snarling mask of determination and absolute confidence. The lines in his face were cut deep, a tough man with much experience. Looking into his eyes, she knew she’d been right about him: He’d been the brains, the one running Suma, yet he’d hidden it well. He didn’t need the accolades. He wasn’t hurting her, but the threat was there. In fact, the pads of his fingers were rubbing strands of her hair back and forth as if savoring the feel.

“Go take a shower,” he said abruptly. “If you argue with me or you put anything of his on, I’ll scrub you myself and you’re not going to like it much. Do it fast. I want you back out here in five minutes smelling like you and not him.”

He tugged on her hair just enough that she rose and rushed out of the room. He followed her at a more leisurely pace. She was stripping off her bra when he sauntered in and she stopped abruptly, shaking her head. “I’m not taking my clothes off in front of you.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I watched you letting him fuck you in the forest and then again on the porch. I’m well aware of what your body looks like. I want his scent gone. Now. I’ll scrub you down myself if you don’t move. You’ve got four minutes now.”

She told herself she was leopard and there was no modesty in that world. She didn’t want to provoke him into showering with her and possibly raping her. If she could, she would stall enough to allow Rio and Conner to pick up his trail and realize he’d circled back to the cabin. She wanted to keep her back to him as she stripped, but she needed to see him. Because if he moved to touch her—she wasn’t going down without a fight.

She got under the water, her gaze on his, fixed and defiant, daring him to try to come near her as she soaped off under his intense scrutiny. He reached for the water at the same time she did, his fingers brushing hers, and she jerked her hands back, both coming up defensively.

That seemed to amuse him. He handed her a towel. “Do you really think you can fight me and win? Don’t be silly. I’m not a man who would deliberately hit a woman. There has to be a very good reason.”

“Why in the world did you ever work for Imelda Cortez, let alone kidnap children for her?” she asked, rubbing the water—and Conner’s scent—as best she could from her skin. Keep him talking and calm, she reminded herself. Be interested in him.

She pushed past him and found her backpack, jerking out a pair of jeans and yanking them on quickly. She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You sold out your own people.”

He watched her with the unblinking eyes of a cat. “They aren’t my people. They threw me out. I owe them no loyalty.”

She frowned as she pulled a T-shirt on and turned to face him, doing her best to look a little sympathetic. “Why would they do that?” She was interested, that part wasn’t a lie. She hoped she was staying close to the truth. She’d admitted she was scared of him. Maybe he’d make allowances.

He shrugged, but for the first time a ripple of emotion crossed his face. “Our laws are archaic and make no sense. If a hunter kills one of us in leopard form—even though it’s against the law of man—we’re to just allow them to get away with it. One killed my baby brother. I hunted him down and killed him. The elders called it murder and banished me. In other words, I’m dead to the village. I figure if I’m dead to them, they are to me and I owe them no loyalty.”

“How terrible.” And she meant it. If a family felt there was no justice in a killing, how did they go on? “That still doesn’t explain someone as evil as Imelda Cortez and why you would choose to reveal your species to her.”