Conner never took his gaze from that of the young leopard’s. He knew the man could see the truth in his eyes. He knew he could see his raging leopard, the demand to kill. The young man sniffed and caught the scent of the others surrounding him. He swallowed and stepped back away from Isabeau, raising his hands slightly.

“They really killed a female leopard? You’re certain?”

“She was my mother,” Conner said. “I’m certain.”

Isabeau gasped, and made a small sound of distress.

The young man paled. “I didn’t know. There’s no mistake?”

“Suma works for and recruits for Imelda Cortez. She’s head of the largest drug cartel in the region and she’s directly responsible for the murder of the tribes and destruction of our forest,” Conner continued. “That’s who he revealed our people to and that’s the man you were working for.”

The leopard swallowed and held his hands out away from his body, raised his head to expose his throat. “Carry out the sentence then. Ignorance is not a defense.”

6

CONNER let his gaze unlock from that of the inexperienced leopard’s and allowed himself to look at Isabeau. His breath caught in his throat. Her face was pale, her eyes glazed with pain. Blood dripped from her throat and arm. She swayed slightly as if unsteady. Something inside him crumbled and another part of him wanted to leap on the leopard cub and rip him to shreds. It would be so easy to tear out his throat in retribution. Every instinct urged him to do just that.

For a long moment the forest seemed to hold its breath. The cat inside him prowled back and forth, occasionally throwing himself at the bonds holding him, testing Conner’s strength and resolve. Felipe and Leonardo moved out into the open, circling the young leopard. Elijah shoved his head through the leaves. Close. Too close to Isabeau.

His cat snarled, his gaze swinging toward the new threat to his mate. Red haze burned through his mind. A warning went off in his brain. The cat was too close, raking to get free. His muscles contorted. His mouth ached. Fingers curled. Sweat broke out on his body as he tried to fight the cat back.

Isabeau walked right up to him, unafraid, although her body trembled. “Conner?” Her voice was soft but demanding.

He reached for her, brought her against him, holding her close for a moment, listening to the reassuring beat of her heart, the steadiness of her breath. It took a few minutes to take control of his cat. The scent of the other leopards and the strong smell of blood nearly drove him mad, but her ready acceptance of his touch managed to calm him enough to stay in control. He bent his head to her throat, examining the puncture wounds. The young leopard had been careful to miss her jugular. Blood welled from the cuts, but they were definitely not lethal. The cub hadn’t meant to kill her. It wouldn’t stop Conner from teaching him a lesson, but it would save the boy’s life.

He brushed the pads of his fingers over the claw marks and then used the rough velvet of his tongue to heal them, the way of his cat. The coppery taste mixed with the fresh rain and the fragrance of her skin. She rested her forehead against his chest, obviously exhausted. He needed to get her to shelter soon.

“I have to look at your arm, Sestrilla.” He ripped her sleeve away to expose the wound. A chunk of her arm was missing, up near the bicep, but it was a flesh wound. They’d been lucky. “Infection happens fast in the forest,” he told her, his voice as gentle as he could make it when his cat refused to settle.

“I’ve got a few things in my bag that will help,” she confided. “I study medicinal plants, so I always carry a few.”

“Do you have painkillers?”

“They don’t work so well on me,” she said, attempting a small smile.

He was grateful for that little smile. She was comforting him, and that turned him inside out . He could tell it bothered her that his usual calm was gone on her behalf. She was having a hard enough time keeping him at arm’s length, and having his cat and the man be so agitated over her injuries and the threat to her was disturbing.

“We’ve got to go,” Rio said. He was in the forest, out of Isabeau’s sight.

Conner knew it wasn’t modesty. Leopards weren’t modest about nudity. When they shifted, they generally carried or cached clothes in the areas they lived, but they often shifted in front of one another. Rio was more concerned for Isabeau, who wasn’t raised leopard, and for Conner’s reaction. Isabeau was near the Han Vol Dan, the emerging of her leopard and her leopard’s heat. She was putting out enough hormones to rock all the males, mated or not. He wasn’t taking a chance of Conner getting more aggressive.

“We’ve taken care of most of them, and the others have turned tail and run, but they might suddenly get their courage back. Let’s get to shelter.”

“What about me?” the young leopard asked.

There was silence. Conner looked over the top of Isabeau’s head at the young man. He’d been like that once, looking for adventure and something besides the village.

“You’ll be coming with us. I have a few things to say to you.”

The kid put his arms down as he let out his breath in obvious relief.

“Don’t look happy about it, kid,” Conner snapped. “I’m going to beat the hell out of you.”

“Jeremiah. My name’s Jeremiah Wheating.” He flexed his claws and grinned at Conner. Now that he was safe, he was back to looking cocky. “I’ll look forward to it.”