Wild Fire (45 page)

She wanted to slap his hand away, but she was too cowed. She’d never been beaten in her life. He’d done it with such objectivity, as if he was completely removed from the act. She tried to crawl away from him, finding the wall to lean against, the only way to hold herself up.

His fingers circled her ankle like a shackle. “Make certain you don’t get pregnant with his baby. I’d hate to have to kill a cub, and it would be much harder for you to forgive me.”

How could he think she could forgive the beating he’d given her? He’d terrorized her on purpose, a punishment that in his twisted mind she deserved. “Tell him to meet me and to come alone. If he doesn’t, I’ll be back periodically to visit until he does.”

“Where?” She whispered the word.

“He’ll know.”

She slid down the wall when he let go of her, crying softly, terrified for herself—for Conner. Ottila stood over her, once again taking his human form. Both were intimidating. “I can get to you anywhere. Anytime. If he tries to run with you, you’d better believe he can’t protect you, no matter where he takes you, I’ll find you. You tell him that.”

She bit down hard on her lower lip and stayed very still, afraid to move. He leaned into her, his mouth finding hers. She held herself very still, trying not to sob as he explored her mouth with his tongue, taking his time, his hands once again gentle. It was disconcerting, to have him go from violence to almost loving. He didn’t protest when she remained passive. He pulled back and looked into her eyes.

“Next time, you might remind him that leopards like to go high.”

He shifted right in front of her, a male leopard in his prime, his tail switching as he leapt up into the beams with casual ease and disappeared into the small attic. She didn’t hear him after that, but she remained huddled against the wall, terrified that he hadn’t really left and would come back.

SHE jammed her fist into her mouth and wept as quietly as she could. She didn’t want to see anyone, not Conner—especially not Conner. She felt bruised and battered. Ottila had completely broken her. She had no idea what to feel, only fear, intense fear. He’d stripped her down until she couldn’t recognize herself. She had to get her clothes off and treat the puncture wounds. He’d wanted to mark her, not maim her, so they couldn’t be as bad as they felt. But she couldn’t move. She stayed still, huddled against the wall, weeping quietly.

“ISABEAU! We’re coming in,” Conner’s voice made her jump, but she didn’t move, making herself as small as possible there against the wall.

CONNER waited uneasily when Isabeau didn’t answer him. He glanced at Rio, who was still pulling on his jeans. The cabin was dark, just as he’d told her to leave it. All the shutters were closed. There seemed no good reason for his uneasiness, although after tracking the large leopard back to the doctor’s house and into Jeremiah’s room, he could believe the leopard capable of anything. The boy had been helpless, lying hooked to an IV, fighting for every breath, and Ottila had raked deep claw marks in his belly. He could have disemboweled him. The general consensus had been that he’d been interrupted by Mary or the doctor as they’d looked in on him.

Many guests still remained in the house and Elijah patrolled outside, yet the leopard had managed to locate Jeremiah’s room and enter with so much stealth, no one had even known he was in the house. Conner knew the leopard could have killed all of them—Mary, Doc, his friends and certainly Jeremiah. He knew the others were wrong, Ottila hadn’t been interrupted, he hadn’t wanted to kill Jeremiah.

Conner put his hand on the door and inhaled. Was there a faint scent of a leopard? “I’m coming in, Isabeau, don’t shoot me.”

He unlocked the door and the smell hit him hard, waves of it. Leopard and blood. The mixture was potent. He whipped his head around, examining every inch of the cabin until his gaze found her huddled and bloody in the darkness.

“Is he here?” he asked. She looked in shock, her face starkly white. It took every ounce of control not to leap to her side and gather her up.

For a moment she was silent.
Traumatized
. He didn’t want to think about what had happened here. Not with her clothes bloody and that look of terror on her face.

“Isabeau,” he hissed, putting a flick of command in his voice.

“I don’t know. He went up there,” she pointed to the beams overhead. Her tone was so low he barely caught the words, even with his acute hearing.

Rio moved into the room, his bare feet silent on the wooden floor as he studied the rafters above his head. He leapt, catching one of the beams and swinging his body into position.

Conner crossed to Isabeau’s side, crouching down beside her, gently reaching for her. He made certain to keep his movements slow and deliberate. “Tell me, Isabeau,” he instructed.

A sob escaped and she pressed her fingers to her trembling mouth, moving back to make herself smaller. Conner let his gaze slide over her, looking for the worst of the injuries. She had blood on her shirt over her breasts and more was seeping through the material at the junction of her legs. His heart began to pound in alarm.

“Can you tell me what he did?”

She moistened her lips and pressed back against the wall, needing the stability of the structure. “He said he wanted you to meet him. He said you’d know where.”

“He’s gone,” Rio announced. “He got in through a small screened vent in the attic. He had to have planned this very carefully.” He swung down and stood next to Conner, observing her pale face and bloody clothes. “I’ll call the doc.” He reached for the light.

Isabeau shook her head, alarm spreading across her face, so much so that Conner held up his hand to stop Rio.

“I don’t want anyone to see me like this. Don’t turn on the light.”

“I have to take a look at you,” Conner said, his voice gentle. “I’m going to pick you up, beloved. It may hurt.” He had no idea of the extent of her injuries, but the scent of blood was strong. There was a hint of lingering musk, as if Ottila had been aroused, but he didn’t smell sex.

“There’s broken glass on the floor,” Isabeau warned.

It seemed so inconsequential to him given the circumstances. “We’ll be careful.” He reached for her, afraid of hurting her when she shuddered in his arms. The scent of blood was stronger, but even more so was the scent of Ottila’s leopard. He’d marked her deliberately, wanting to insult Conner, wanting him to realize he could take his woman at any time. Conner read the challenge for what it was.

“Would you mind starting a bath, Rio?” he asked, more to get the man out of the room than for any other reason.

He had no idea where to start. He just knew that he couldn’t make this about him, about the rage burning like a wildfire in his belly. This had to be about Isabeau. She was dazed, confused and looking at him with fear in her eyes.

Shaken, Conner gathered Isabeau to him, cradling her against his chest, feeling her wince when her body pressed against his. “What did he do?”

“He beat me,” she said, suppressing another sob. “He wasn’t angry. He just beat me, like it was a job to him. And then he used his claws on me, on my . . . body.” She buried her face against his shoulder and clung to him.

So close to her, the scent of the other leopard was overpowering. His cat went wild, raking and clawing, demanding to be set free to kill his rival. He wanted the scent off of her. “I need to look at the damage, Isabeau.”

She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Would you be more comfortable with a woman? With Mary?” He kept his voice gentle.

Again she shook her head. “I don’t want to see anyone.”

He had to ask. “Did he rape you?”

She pressed her forehead tight against his shoulder. His heart pounded hard in his chest, but he made no movement, staying still, just waiting.

“He said he would never rape a woman.” She began to weep a little wildly. “He was so cruel, Conner. And all the while, he acted like I deserved it, like I had betrayed him.”

He tightened his arms carefully around her, trying not to choke on the other man’s smell. His leopard was insane, pushing close to the surface, raging at his enemy, trying to rip through flesh to get to the hideous, offensive smell.

“We’re going to get you in the bathtub where I can inspect the damage. You’ll need painkillers, Isabeau, and antibiotics . . .”

She lifted her face to look at him for the first time and there was a hint of pride in her gaze. “He said you’d be too upset to remember the antibiotics, but you didn’t forget. ”

“Of course I didn’t,” he brushed a kiss along her forehead. “You’re my first priority, always, Isabeau.”

“He thought I’d be upset that you went to help Jeremiah,” she said. “But I’m glad you did.” She couldn’t keep the edge of hysteria from her voice. “He did everything he could to drive a wedge between us.”

Conner’s stomach knotted. He heard the uncertainty in her voice. She wasn’t aware of it, but Ottila had done damage to Isabeau by shaking her confidence, not only in him—that he could accept another man’s mark on her—but in herself. He lifted her, taking her on through to the bathroom. Rio had thoughtfully lit candles to keep the light muted and soft.

“Should I get the doc?” he asked.

“She’s already on antibiotics. Give me some time to assess the damage,” Conner said. “He planned this out very well. He let me catch a whiff of him, laid a trail straight to Jeremiah, hurt him enough that we’d stay there and help, left us another trail into the forest leading away from the valley and from here, and all the while we were chasing him he was terrorizing Isabeau.”

“Is it possible he’s doing Cortez’s bidding?” Rio ventured. “We have to at least take a look at the possibility that she knows about us.”

“No.” Isabeau raised her head, her gaze meeting Rio’s steadily. “He deserted Imelda and is coming after Conner. He’s got a twisted sense of right and wrong. It was okay to beat me, but not okay to rape me. I should accept him and we can live happily ever after, although he might have to kill Conner’s and my child. I think he has enough money to be satisfied and he’s already moved on to his next agenda. I made the mistake of marking him.” Her voice wobbled but she kept her gaze steady. “This isn’t about Imelda. We’re still clear to go.”

“You’re betting our lives on that,” Rio said. “A good way to kill Conner is to lure him into Imelda’s compound.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Isabeau denied.

“Why?” Rio asked.

“He has a sense of honor,” she replied.

The knots in Conner’s belly tightened even more. He didn’t want Ottila Zorba anywhere near Isabeau. “Listen, baby,” he crooned softly. “This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”

“I did something to him.” There was a frown in her voice, but she wouldn’t look at him. “He said my cat would accept him. And she didn’t come out to help me. She didn’t protest what he was doing.”

“We have venom in our claws.” He brushed kisses over her temples. “Zorba is trying to confuse you, to make you think that what you did entitles him to you, but he saw you and in his twisted mind, like any other common stalker, he thinks you have a relationship with him. He knows you’re my mate. He knows you’re married to me, but it doesn’t matter to him. Mates are sacred. No one touches another’s mate.”

He took her through to the bathroom and allowed her legs to drop to the floor, one arm holding her steady.

“I don’t understand, Conner. You said he has the right to challenge you.”

“You chose, but yes, an unmated female certainly has the right to choose her mate. She isn’t restricted to one single male until that choice is made. Ordinarily, mates look for one another, life cycle after cycle, but they don’t always. Your cat indicated she found his cat attractive, that’s all. But you are mated, and he has no rights at all to you. He knows that.”

“Then what does the venom do?”

He was afraid she’d ask. He busied himself tugging at her shirt, which she didn’t want to give up. She kept pulling the hem back down. Finally she covered her chest with her arms, preventing him from removing her top.

“I’ll do it myself, when I’m alone.”

Defiance crept into her eyes. Shame. His heart contracted. He caught her arms and dragged her to him, his mouth coming down on hers. His kiss was long, tender and filled with as much love as he could pour into it.

“You have to believe me, Isabeau. This isn’t your fault. Did you think because all the people in this valley are so kind, that leopard people are always good? The danger of our business is that we see the worst of people, not the best, as we have in this valley. But I’ve seen the worst in leopards and the best in humans. Ottila is a sick man. You didn’t give him an opening, he fixated on you all by himself.”

She refused to meet his gaze. “He did this so you wouldn’t want me. I know he did. The wounds will heal, but they’ll scar. Right now, his scent and his marks are all over me. He wanted you to find me distasteful—repugnant.”

“Well, guess what, he didn’t succeed.”

Her gaze leapt to his face. “My cat can smell your lie.”

“Not a lie. My cat is raging. As he should be. As, deep down, I am. I don’t want another man touching you.” He kept his gaze steady on hers, never flinching. Yes, his cat was snarling, hating the smell of the other man—but never her—never his mate. He raged at himself for not protecting her, but the blame was on his shoulders, not hers, if there was blame to be had by one of them. “I could never be repulsed by you, Isabeau. You’re my heart. My soul. This man can’t drive a wedge between us. Let your cat smell whether I’m telling you the truth or a lie. Now let me take your clothes off and see what damage he’s done.”

“He was careful not to really injure me.”

“He’s a first-class bastard who gave no thought to your feelings. Possession isn’t love, Isabeau, no matter how possessive a man feels. And I do feel possessive, but I know I don’t own you. And I don’t have the right to hurt you or take away your choices. I put my mark on you to protect you from him, not to brand you as mine. I think my leopard may have that idea, but I’m not just my leopard and I refuse, as every man should, to use our cat’s instincts to guide us into animalistic behavior. And don’t get me wrong, Isabeau, Ottila’s behavior was an abomination against animals.”