Leopard 04 - Wild Fire

many sins on his soul to be entirely comfortable as a human. The claw marks etched deep into his face attested to that, branding him for all time.
    He didn’t like thinking too much—about those scars and how he’d gotten them or why he’d allowed Isabeau Chandler to inflict them upon him. He’d tried running to the United States, putting as much distance as he could between him and his woman—his mate—but he hadn’t been able to shut out the look on Isabeau’s face when she found out the truth about him. The memory haunted him day and night.
    He was guilty of one of the worst crimes his kind could commit. He had betrayed his own mate. He hadn’t known she was his mate when he’d taken the job to seduce her and get close to her father, but that didn’t matter.
    The leopard lifted his face to the wind and pulled back his lips in a silent snarl. His paws sank silently into the decaying vegetation on the forest floor. He moved through the underbrush, his fur sliding silently along the leaves of numerous bushes. Periodically he stood up and raked his claws down the trunk of a tree, marking his territory, reestablishing his claim, letting the other males know he was home and someone to contend with. He’d taken this job to stay out of the Borneo rain forest where Isabeau lived. He didn’t dare go there, because he knew if he stayed there, eventually he’d forget all about being civilized and he’d let his leopard free to find her. And she wanted nothing— nothing —to do with him.
    A low growl rumbled in his throat as he tried to choke off the memories. He burned for her. Night and day. It didn’t matter that he’d put an ocean between them. Distance would never matter, now that he knew she was alive and he’d recognized her. He had all the traits of a leopard, the reflexes, the aggression and cunning, the ferocity and jealousy, but most of all the drive to find his mate and keep her.
    The man in him might understand jungle law was no longer a way his people could live, but here in the rain forest he couldn’t keep the primitive needs from rising sharp and strong.
    He thought coming back to his home would help, but instead the wildness was on him, gripping him by the teeth, slamming into his body with urgent need until he wanted to rake and claw, to tear open an enemy and roar to the heavens. He 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 amidst 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 Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    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 was supposed to seduce her into caring for him, not 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