Hot Blooded

scent of a large cat and she would be gone. Even if her
blood called to him, she was a great distance away with a good head start.
    She shifted into her human form, her sides heaving and her lungs burning for
air. Leaves and twigs scraped her bare flesh. She looked hastily around to make
certain she wasn't crouching in anything poisonous. The last thing she wanted
was blisters on her skin. More than once she'd managed to shift at the most
inappropriate time. She had little control when the form became too difficult to
hold.
    With a sigh she dragged on her clothes. Humidity was so high the material
clung to her skin. Juliette was skilled in the jungle, but without the jaguar's
fur and claws, it was much more difficult to make her way through the trees. The
canopy kept out much of the light, and with the sun setting, the interior went
dark quickly. She had excellent night vision, but it wasn't going to help much
with night predators.
    She passed the miles alternating between a run and walk. She tried to listen
to the steady rhythm of the rain, but it sounded like a heartbeat. She tried to
block out the scent of Riordan, but it clung to her body. Tears made a
relentless path down her face, blurring her vision. Grief was a heavy weight
that slowed her steps and robbed her of air.
    Every step was a fight to go forward, to keep from turning around and running
back to find Riordan. Worse, her mind continually tried to tune itself to his.
Fighting herself was more exhausting than fighting the jungle. She needed a
place to rest. Juliette found a small circle of boulders, nearly hidden by
overgrown ferns. Within the ring of boulders a deep pool fed by a small stream
shimmered in the moonlight. She sat down, lifted her face to catch the mistlike
drops that managed to work through the thick foliage overhead. Thunder rolled.
Lightning lined the clouds. A roar shook the ground, the trees, caused small
waves to race across the surface of the water. Juliette's hand fluttered over
her heart. He had risen.
    Â 
    JULIETTE was gone. His first reaction was to roar out his pain and
frustration. Now Riordan let out his breath in a long, slow hiss of
exasperation. He wanted to shake her. The physical attraction between them was a
wildfire. That alone should have been enough to bind her to him. She was in for
a long, difficult time, out there alone without him. The ritual bonding words
would force her mind to attempt to connect with his. He had explained it to her,
had tried to spare her the misery he knew she would be going through.
    He was already feeling the effects of their separation. Worse, he was feeling
her grief, a torrent of emotion every bit as deep as the well of passion he
touched in her. She felt things intensely. Riordan raked his fingers through his
long hair. He needed to find prey fast. He needed more time in the ground to
heal, but more than anything, he needed Juliette. He lifted his head toward the
heavens and roared a second time. She had opened the dam of his emotions. He
remembered nothing of anger and jealousy and fear, but now the feelings were
crowding into his mind mixed with grief. It was a potent combination and a
dangerous one.
    He found the tracks of a large cat, but not the footprints of a woman. His
heart beat hard in his chest, pounded with fear for her, with need for her. She
had managed to disguise herself, leave no trace behind, but the call of blood
and the ties that bound them together were far too strong to ever break. He
moved quickly through the cave, shifting on the run, bursting into the air as a
thick stream of white mist. The sky was orange and red, dazzling and vivid and
near blinding to a man who had seen only shades of gray for so long. Even with
the heavy mist for protection, his head burst with the sheer brilliance of
color. He streaked through the trees, staying below the canopy, using the
protection of the foliage while he acclimated himself to his new sight.
    A bird shrieked, his only warning. He hit something and bounced backward.
Droplets shimmered briefly through a dropping silver net, falling through on the
outside. Instincts took over. He shot upward, through and above the silver. In
his present form he was able to slip through, but he felt the thin blades,
razor-sharp, cutting deep.
    Riordan
! Juliette sounded panic-stricken.
    The trap had been set specifically for him. Juliette knew he would come after
her. He had not fully