Leopard 04 - Wild Fire

body. All feminine curves, every bit as alluring as her face. His.
    Damn her to hell. She belonged to him. Not to the son of a bitch standing beside her with his cocky arrogance. Her body was his, her smile, all of her, every damn inch belonged to him alone. The man with her hadn’t moved a muscle. Conner didn’t really look at him, didn’t care who he was. After all, he was already a dead man, and she should have known it. The law of the jungle. Higher law. Their law.
    Conner felt every muscle lock into place. His head turned slowly, inch by slow inch in the stalking freeze-frame motion of a large jungle cat. He held himself still, his leopard barely held in check, dwelling on the strong fingers wrapped around hers. He shifted his gaze, a single sound escaping—rumbling up from inside his raging leopard, into his chest to come pouring out his throat. It was low. Chilling. There was nothing human in that sound. An animal’s hatred. A leopard’s challenge. One male to another. The low growl carried through the room, cut through the conversation and music so that all conversation ceased.
    “Don’t do it,” Rio warned. “Step back while you have the chance,” he cautioned the man.
    Conner heard him as if from a great distance. His world had narrowed to one woman. No one, nothing could stop him, not even Rio. His cat was too fast. He knew it—they knew it. He’d have the throat ripped out in seconds. The growl persisted, a rumble never rising above a soft carrying note that raised the hair on the backs of necks. He knew killing the man was unacceptable in the civilized world, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but to remove the other male from the side of his mate.
    Isabeau let go of her companion’s hand and Rio jerked him back, away from her.
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” she said softly.
    Taunting him. Daring him to lie to her again. Her voice was low. Sexy. Sliding over his skin, teasing his body with memories of the way her mouth had moved over him. He clenched his teeth, grateful she’d at least stopped the body contact with another male in his presence. His leopard clawed for supremacy.
    “Why did you bring me here?”
    Her eyes slid over him, holding contempt and pure loathing. “Because you’re the only person I know who is bastard enough, deceptive enough, who might be able to get those children back. You’re very good at what you do. I’m only asking for a few minutes of your time to hear me out and I think you owe me that.”
    Conner stared her down for several long moments before gesturing toward the door. Rio hesitated. The only person who had a chance of killing Conner Vega was Isabeau Chandler. He wouldn’t fight her. The last thing Rio wanted to do was leave and Conner could sense his reluctance.
    “She deserves her five minutes,” Conner said.

    Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    Rio gestured for Carpio to walk in front of him. Conner waited for the door to close before he turned fully toward Isabeau and allowed himself to breathe again. Her scent was potent, surrounding him, invading, swamping him. He could hear the insects in the forest, the hum of life buzzing in his veins. The rich sap running in the trees and the constant movement in the canopy overhead thrummed through his body, a thick, potent mixture of heat and desire. The drum of water, constant and steady, beat in rhythm with his heart. He was home—in the forest—and his mate was caged in the same room with him.
    She moved away from the door—away from him, a delicate retreat from his predatory nature. His gaze tracked her, much like a wild animal following prey. He knew his stillness made her nervous, but he remained locked in place, forcing himself not to leap on her when every cell in his body demanded it. His gaze never left her, completely focused, automatically calculating the distance between them each time she changed it.
    “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be here with me?” He kept his tone low, but the menace was there.
    Her gaze flicked over him, filled with contempt, filled with revulsion. “Do you have any idea how dirty I feel standing here in this room with you?” she countered. “What am I supposed to call you this time? Do you have a name?”
    He shouldn’t tell her, but what the hell difference did it make now? She belonged to him and she was in the jungle. She’d brought him to her— sent for him. “Conner