Leopard 03 - Burning Wild

she admitted, her voice drowsy. She turned onto her side, facing him, but she didn’t open her eyes. “We always had a plan in place if we were separated and something went wrong.” She was so sleepy and warm. Jake made her feel safe, otherwise she never would have told him anything, yet she couldn’t stop the words pouring out of her. It was almost a relief.
    “I waited for an hour at the library for them, but they didn’t come. So I went to the rendezvous point.
    We weren’t supposed to call on the cell phone. I waited there for another hour and then I knew something was really wrong.”
    Jake tightened his arms around her and brushed kisses along her temple. “That must have been so frightening.”
    “I was terrified. My parents were my entire life. There was a cache of money and papers and I took it, but instead of going to the next spot, the final meeting place before I was supposed to disappear, I stole a bike and rode outside of town, along the road they would have been driving. The road was very winding and steep. I had to walk in places and I knew if they ever found out, they’d be furious with me, but I couldn’t help myself.”
    She was silent so long he prompted her. “You found them.”
    Her breath hissed out between her teeth. “Yes, I found them.” Her voice was strained and very low. He could barely catch the thread of sound even with his acute hearing. “Their car had gone off the road.
    My mother had died right away; at least, I think—I hope she did. But my father . . .” She trailed off and buried her tear-wet face against his chest.
    “Emma?”
    She shook her head.
    “Honey. Just tell me.”
    Emma was silent for a long time, but then her lashes lifted and she looked into his eyes, searching for something there, some reassurance. “My father had been alive, but someone had tortured him. There were small cuts all over his body. Whoever had done it had started a fire and left the bodies to burn. I could see tracks leading away from the car.”
    “What kind of tracks?” He could barely breathe, knowing she’d been through such a thing, knowing how close she’d been to killers. What had her father been into?
    “Big cat tracks.”
    His mouth went dry at the revelation. Leopard tracks? Was Drake right about her, then? Everything pointed to it, yet how could that be? He had to gather more information on her. Now was certainly not the time to mention that he could shift into a cat.
    “I’d given my word to them that if anything went wrong, I’d leave, go thousands of miles away. And I did. I made my way to California, because I promised them I would.”
    If Emma gave her word, there was no question she would carry it out. If Emma married him, there would be no cheating, no leaving, no breaking of her vows.
    “You met Andrew and married him.” Changing her last name, making her more difficult to trace. “I’m sorry, Emma, that must have been so difficult.” He transferred his hand to her hair, sliding over the silky strands. The action soothed him almost as much as it did her. He felt tension slipping from his body. “Did your mother always like leopards? Is that where you got your love of sketching leopards as well?” He wanted her to remember her mother that way, something beautiful they shared together.
    “Yes, but she never did one like the painting I did for you, the half man and half leopard. She loved big cats. She painted amazing lifelike pictures of them, but none with a half-human, half-cat face. I just think sometimes you have a stillness about you, and the way you move, like water over sand, fluid and silent—that reminds me of a leopard.”
    “Not a tiger?” he asked curiously. Emma’s insights were one of the things he admired in her. She had amazing instincts. He was beginning to think Drake might be right about Emma, and it if was true, he didn’t know if that would help his cause or make it more difficult.
    “Leopards are more unpredictable.” Her lashes lifted. Fluttered. He could see amusement in her green eyes. Cat’s eyes. “And have bad tempers.”

    He heard the smile in her voice and bent closer to inhale her fragrance. Sometimes he wanted to take her happiness into his lungs, to fill his body, his bloodstream, to keep for his own. He didn’t know how to be happy. He was fiercely protective, maybe too much so to be happy. He had built an empire, and he guarded it ferociously, but he was always aware his enemies were circling. Emma had