He stepped back to allow her to proceed him through the door into the next room. “Cortez offered me a living and I took her up on it. Eventually I knew I’d kill her, so what the hell difference does it make what she knows? She can’t prove it and if she tells anyone, they’ll think she’s insane—which she is. I can smell it on her.”

She swallowed fear. He said it so casually. Eventually I knew I’d kill her. “Is that what you’re going to do to me eventually? Kill me when you get tired of me?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.” He caught her wrist, jerking her around, forcing her palm to circle the hard length of him, his fingers fisting tight around hers. “You put this there. I go to bed like this and get up like this. It isn’t going to go away until we’re together. And I imagine it will be back often, every bit as painful.”

She stomped as hard as she could on his instep and spun, slamming her elbow into his ribs, continuing around as he freed her hand, aiming a back-fist at his face. He was already on her, taking her to the floor, dropping hard so that she slammed into the wood, cracking her head, his superior weight on top of her. She saw stars, and had to fight to keep from passing out. Struggling wildly, she tried to throw him off. He drove a knee into the small of her back and pinned her wrists together, his strength enormous. She lay crushed beneath him, tears burning in her eyes and throat.

“You don’t know much about men, do you, Isabeau,” he said softly. “Some men get turned on by a woman fighting him. Lie quietly. Just take a breath. I said I wouldn’t hurt you if possible, and I meant it.”

She let herself weep for a moment before making an effort to pull herself back together. His free hand stroked her hair as if soothing her. When the tension drained out of her, he got off her and pulled her to her feet, forcing her across the room to the same chair. Once she was seated in the chair, he put both hands on the arms of the chair and bent his face close to hers.

She gathered herself. Head-butting might work. Or punching him hard right in the middle of that very large erection.

His eyes met hers and he shook his head slowly. “The first time, I let it go because you’re frightened of me. But you attack me again and I’ll retaliate.”

She blinked up at him, one hand going defensively to her throat. “Today’s my wedding day,” she admitted. “I married him.”

His expression didn’t change. “I don’t really give a damn. You knew better, or at least you should have.”

She studied his face, that strong, masculine face. She needed to keep him talking because it was the only defense she had. The sound of their voices, the passage of time. Conner had to come back soon.

She drew in her breath. “Did you tell Imelda about all of us being leopard?”

“Why would I?” He picked up her teacup and moved across the floor to the teapot.

Isabeau covered her sigh of relief with a small throat clearing. He was so big. Intimidating. He seemed invincible to her. And where was Conner? Surely he must have unraveled Ottila’s trail and should be back.

“Imelda should never have taken those kids. I tried to tell her, but she likes being the boss. I knew Adan would never sit still for it. She’s so arrogant she doesn’t listen to her advisors, not even her security advisors.”

“So you’ve left her on her own.”

From the small pack he carried around his neck, he drew a small vial and, thumbing it open, poured it into the cup of tea right in front of her. Her entire body tightened up. She half rose, but he gave her a stern look and she subsided.

“I’m not drinking that.”

“Then we’ll do it the hard way and pour it down your throat. It really is all the same to me, Isabeau.”

“What is it?”

“Not a date rape drug. I haven’t stooped so low that I’d rape a woman. When I take you, it will be because you can’t help yourself, you’ll need me.”

She wasn’t going to argue how illogical that was, not when he was coming at her with the teacup. She leapt out of her chair, this time remembering her cat, calling on the lazy hussy to help out. Why wasn’t she outraged? Why wasn’t she fighting for their survival? For Conner’s survival. And, God help her, where was Conner?

Deep inside her, her cat stirred, scented the air and found her own mark on Ottila. Another rival for her affections. She stretched languorously. Isabeau hissed at her to subside. Where was the famous leopard loyalty? She cursed herself for not knowing the rules.

“What is that?”

“Choose for him, life or death.”

She couldn’t look away from his eyes. It was difficult not to believe him. He seemed invincible and absolutely sure of himself. She touched her tongue to her lip, for one awful moment considering going with him. By why hadn’t he just knocked her out and taken her out of the cabin? This wasn’t about choice, it never was. It was about something altogether different. Her brain went click, click, click as pieces fell into place.

“You were always going to kill him, right from the beginning, weren’t you?”

He caught her around the throat, letting her feel his immense strength. Isabeau didn’t struggle. There was a warning in his eyes she heeded. “He’s been inside you. His mark is on you. He can’t live.”

She swallowed hard. “You were never going to share me with Suma.”

“Not in a million years.