“No wasted motion,” Isabeau pointed out, unable to stay in the background. She hurried up beside Jeremiah to look at the watch. “That’s not even seven seconds. How can that be?”

“I’m not certain I really saw it,” Jeremiah said, still staring at the watch.

Isabeau crowded closer, brushing the naked leopard with her arm. Conner growled deep in his throat and the kid jumped back. All the men stiffened and turned to see Conner’s head moving slowly, following Jeremiah’s shriveling body, gaze burning brightly and focused on his prey.

“Conner,” Rio said sharply.

Shocked by Conner’s reaction, Isabeau instinctively moved away from Jeremiah. “You can’t possibly think . . .” She trailed off, one hand going defensively to her throat, although there was a mean-spirited part of her that found the situation amusing. “He’s a kid.”

“He’s closer to your age than I am,” Conner snapped.

She couldn’t suppress her laughter. “Come on, Conner, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Hey!” Jeremiah said. “Women can’t get enough of me.”

Conner snarled, his teeth elongating, curving, his claws bursting from the tips of his fingers. Isabeau made it worse by doubling over in laughter at the outraged look on Jeremiah’s face and the other men rolling their eyes, shocked that the boy didn’t have enough self-preservation to step back farther from Isabeau and close his mouth.

“Are you saying my woman wants you?” Conner demanded, stepping in close to the boy—too close. “That she prefers you to me?”

That sobered Isabeau immediately. She straightened, her eyes going green and glowing like two jewels. “I’m not your woman, you miserable excuse for a mate.”

Everyone ignored her. Jeremiah sucked in his breath. Those lethal claws were far too close to the most precious part of his body, and Conner looked mean enough to rip body parts off.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Jeremiah protested, realizing his mistake too late. Cats were notoriously bad-tempered with men around their mates, especially if the mate was close to a heat. He realized none of the other men had gone near Isabeau.

“What exactly did you mean?” Conner bit out.

Isabeau was very aware of the other men moving in now, presumably to save Jeremiah should it be necessary. Suddenly the situation was no longer about her. Jeremiah was in real danger from a man who had earlier rejected her advances. Whatever was driving him was real and dangerous.

She stepped close to Conner and put her hand on his arm. She could feel the steel and adrenaline running through him like a river of fire. She was beginning to understand the terrible toll of the leopard on the men. The cat’s laws were impossible for the man to ignore. They always walked a fine line when it came to their animal traits.

“I-I meant that was a great time Felipe had, and I need to work much harder if I’m going to even come close to that,” Jeremiah stammered.

“I bumped him,” Isabeau pointed out. “Please, Conner, I’m asking you.”

Conner stood for a moment, his body fighting to rid itself of adrenaline and then abruptly he turned, his arm sweeping around her, forcing her away from the other leopard, his head close to hers so his lips could brush against her ear. “That was him getting aroused by your scent. His first damn mistake.”

He took her deep into the rain forest, away from the others and the scent of aroused male that drove his cat—and him—insane.

She blushed a bright crimson. How could she not? She wasn’t used to discussing anything having to do with sex in a casual setting, and the way these men treated nudity and the heat of a female cat bordered on the mundane. It wasn’t offensive, exactly, it was just a little disturbing to know that all of them could tell she was entering into some sort of a cycle. Not just that they could tell—more than that—they were all hyper-aware of it.

“I hope it was more than my scent,” Isabeau said, trying to lighten the moment, but meaning it all the same. “I don’t want to be wanted because of the way I smell.”

He inhaled deeply, deliberately taking her fragrance into his lungs. She could send flames leaping in his blood without even trying, but right now, with her innocent frown and the long sweep of her lashes, he could barely keep his hunger in check. “Scent is important to cats.” He rubbed his face against the bare skin of her neck. “So is scent marking. Any man stupid enough to cross into my territory is going to have a fight on his hands.”

She jerked away from him. “I used to be your territory. Back when you were someone else, remember?”

“I remember every moment.” His golden eyes burned deep into hers. “Do you?”

She bit back a retort. She was not going to fight with him. He could reduce her to tears in seconds. She was no match for him—she never had been. “You can’t do this, Conner. You don’t want me, but you’re going to kill anyone else who does? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“I don’t want you?” He bit the words out, a growl rumbling in his chest. His fingers tightened on her upper arms and he drew her tight against his body, deliberately letting her feel his thick arousal. “Want is an insipid word, Isabeau, for what I feel for you. I’m not going to blow it with you because I can’t keep my hands off of you. That happened once and I’ll be damned if it will happen again.”

“You couldn’t keep your hands off of me?”