Ghostwalker 08 - Street Game

wanted to track Isabeau down and claim her whether she wanted him or not. Unfortunately, his mate was a shifter as well, which meant she shared all the same ferocious traits, including fierce, abiding hatred.
    He looked up to the towering trees, the thick canopy shutting out the sunlight.
    Flowers wound up the tree trunks, a riot of color, vying with moss and fungus, all reaching toward the light above. Birds flitted from branch to branch, the canopy alive with constant motion, just as the spongy floor was with millions of insects. Beehives hung in great chunky masses, hidden by broad leaves, and snakes wound around the twisted limbs, nearly impossible to see amid the multitude of interlocking branches.

    He wanted to drink in the beauty of it all. He wanted to forget what he’d done to his own mate. She’d been so young and inexperienced, an easy target. Her father, a doctor, had been the way into the enemy camp. Get close to the daughter and you had the father. It was easy enough. Isabeau had fallen under his spell immediately, drawn to him not because of his animal magnetism, but because she had been his in a previous life cycle. Neither had known.
    Unfortunately, he’d fallen just as deeply under her spell. He wasn’t supposed to seduce her or sleep with her. He’d been obsessed with her, unable to keep his hands off of her. He should have known. She’d been so inexperienced. So innocent. And he’d used that to his advantage.
    He hadn’t considered anything beyond his own pleasure. Like what would happen when the truth came out. That she didn’t even know his real name. That she was a job and her father was the mark. He groaned and the sound came out a soft rumble.
    He had never crossed the line with an innocent woman. Not once in his entire career until Isabeau—human or leopard. She had not yet experienced the Han Vol Dan, a female leopard’s heat, nor had her leopard emerged. It was the reason he hadn’t recognized her as a leopard or as his mate. He should have. The flashes of erotic images in his head every time she was close, the way he couldn’t think when he was with her: That alone should have tipped him off. He was only in his second life cycle and he hadn’t recognized what was in front of him. The need burning in him so strong, growing stronger each time he saw her. He’d always been in control, but with her, a wildfire had swept through him, robbing him of common sense, and he’d made the ultimate mistake with a mark.
    He’d needed. He had burned. He tasted her in his mouth. Breathed her into his lungs. He’d slept with her. Deliberately seduced her. Reveled in her until she was stamped into his very bones. He’d given in to his instincts and he’d done irreparable damage to their relationship.
    Overhead a howler monkey screamed a warning and threw a twig at him. He didn’t deign to look up, merely leapt into the low branches and made his way up the tree. The monkeys scattered, screaming in alarm. Conner leapt from branch to branch, climbing his way up to the forest highway. Branches overlapped from tree to tree, making it easy to navigate through the trees. Birds took to the air in alarm. Lizards 285

    and frogs scurried out of his way. A few snakes lifted their heads, but most ignored him as he padded on clawed paws steadily into the interior.
    As he made his way deeper into the forest, the sound of water was constant again.
    He had moved away from the river, but was coming up on another tributary and a series of three falls. The pools there were cool, he remembered. Often, when he was young, he’d swum in the pools and dozed on the flat boulders jutting out of the mountain.
    The cabin where he was meeting Rio and the rest of the team was just ahead. Built on stilts, it was positioned in the crook of three trees. The cabin became part of the network of branches, easy for leopards to access. In the shadow of the tallest tree he shifted back to his human form.
    To the left of the cabin a pile of neatly folded clothes had been left for him beside a small outdoor shower. The water was cold but refreshing, and he took advantage of it, scrubbing the sweat from his body and stretching out his muscles after his forest run. His leopard was nearly humming, happy to be home as he dressed in the clothes Rio had left for him.
    Conner paused on the small porch in front of the house built into the tree. He sniffed the air. He recognized the scents of the four men inside. Rio Santana, the man