Now he was faced with seeing her every day. Teaching her the ways of their people. How to protect herself in the rain forest. He had no idea how to stop wanting her. How to stop needing to kiss her and just try to be casual and indifferent around her. Not only did he have her and her emerging cat to worry about, but the kid was going to need training and looking after. He sighed. His life had turned very complicated, yet he felt more alive than he ever had.

Isabeau was close. Her warmth. Her scent. Her cat. He lifted his face to the rain and let it drop on his face, trying to cleanse his mind of her. She was swamping his senses. Driving out all sane thoughts until he was going to be useless to Rio and the others if he didn’t get a handle on his cat. And damn it all—he couldn’t blame the out-of-control emotions all on his cat. The man was feeling the same driving hungers—the same desperate need.

He’d fallen so hard for her. So fast. He’d been in too deep before he’d even realized she was burrowing into his heart and soul, winding around his bones and pressing her stamp deep into them, invading every blood cell until he couldn’t escape her lure. There was no way to free his soul once he’d fallen in love with her. He’d destroyed everything between them, shattered her in one horrible blow, but he hadn’t managed to disentangle himself from her in the process.

He knew being leopard mates played a huge part in the physical draw between them, but he loved her. The man and leopard both loved her. There was no one else for either of them and there never would be. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of her laughter. That little note in her voice had always managed to arouse him and soothe the beast in him at the same time. There were so many facets to her, so many intriguing parts to her character. He loved everything about her, everything from her generous heart to her nasty temper.

“Conner?” Isabeau called down to him. “Come and eat.”

He looked up because he couldn’t stop himself. One hand was wrapped around the post as she peered down at him. Her waist-length hair was unbound, flowing a little with the meager breeze moving through the canopy. Her jeans and tee emphasized the lush curves of her body, and he felt his cat purr low in his throat at the sight of her.

“I’ll be right up. I’m going to poke around a little, see what turns up.”

She put her hand on her hip, drawing his attention to the fact that she wasn’t using her injured arm. “Nothing’s out there, Conner. No one would ever find this cabin unless they knew where to look. There are enough cats here to smell anything within miles. Just come up and eat.”

It wasn’t so much her words as her tone that had him moving fast over the rotting vegetation to grasp the vine. In the midst of all the men, she was nervous without him there. And any way he looked at it, that was a good sign. He went up fast, hand over hand, using his leopard’s enormous strength to pull himself up to the porch. He dragged up the ladder after him so that there were no signs to give them away. Even if someone found the small makeshift shower, it was ice cold and no more than a crude but effective rain carved out of a sparse waterfall rushing down the slope.

He straightened slowly and drank her in. She stood, a little hesitant, but she didn’t retreat. She was waiting for him. He watched her inhale deeply, and involuntarily draw his scent into her lungs. His body tightened in reaction. He supposed he’d have to get used to the relentless ache. His gaze dwelt on the puncture marks on her neck; satisfaction welled up that he’d given the kid enough of a beating that he’d feel it for days. She looked a little bruised and battered, but beautiful, with her exotic looks and cat’s eyes.

Isabeau blushed. “You’re looking at me that way again.”

“What way?”

“Like you’re about to pounce on me any moment. I’m looking for a little comfort, not an ambush of some sort.”

He moved in close to her, reaching to tuck strands of hair behind her ear, the brush of his fingers gentle. “You were courageous tonight, when the kid grabbed you. You didn’t panic.”

She flashed a tentative smile. “I knew you’d come. He was so shocked to see me there, at first I think his intention was to get me out of the line of fire, but just then Adan stepped out of the brush with his darts. I think it was clear that I knew Adan, and Jeremiah used me as a shield. He could smell the other leopards and knew he’d walked into a bad situation.”

“Are you making excuses for the kid?” Unable to stop touching her, he stroked his fingers down the long fall of silken hair.

“He’s pretty bruised.”

“He’s damned lucky he’s alive,” Conner pointed out. He took her elbow and tugged her back away from the edge. “Don’t defend him. He should have known better than to put his claws in you.”

“That wasn’t as bad as being shot,” she said, attempting a small laugh.

He didn’t smile—couldn’t smile. A few more inches . . . “That man is dead. Jeremiah is very lucky. I wasn’t in a good mood.”

Isabeau burst out laughing. “Really? I would never have guessed.”

He loved the sound of her laughter. He loved that she could laugh. Standing there battered and bruised with punctures in her neck, defending the kid who did it, he felt respect rising like the sun. The image struck him as pertinent. He hadn’t felt as though he was anywhere near the sun for a long time, and suddenly the world around him was bright again and that had everything to do with Isabeau.