Leopard 04 - Wild Fire

fight so soon, needing the physical workout. He slammed into Jeremiah with the force of a battering ram, driving him off his feet. The smaller leopard turned as he went down to protect his soft belly, rolling and scrambling to get back on his feet.
    Conner sprang, using the leopard’s natural agility and grace, knocking Jeremiah over and over so that he rolled across the clearing and up against a broad tree trunk. The two went at it, snarling, growling, bodies rolling on the ground. Blows landed. Claws occasionally ripped furrows in fur and skin. The hard jolt of large paws landing gave Conner satisfaction. It felt good to use up his energy and his cat’s anger in the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    rough-and-tumble way of his people.
    Jeremiah surprised him. The kid held his temper and took a punishment without shirking. He got in a few solid blows Conner would feel for days, but he didn’t resort to illegal moves or try to rip his opponent into shreds. Conner had a lot more respect for the kid when they lay panting, side by side, nursing their wounds and eyeing each other warily.
    “Are you two going at it all night?” Isabeau called from above them. “Or are you hungry?”
    The two leopards looked at one another. Jeremiah rubbed a paw over his twitching nose and shifted. His naked body sprawled out on the grass, covered in sweat and blood and bruises.
    Isabeau squeaked and turned away. “Take a shower before you come up. And put some clothes on.”
    Conner studied the kid as he sprinted for the shower, clearly motivated by the idea of being fed. He looked to be somewhere between twenty and twenty-four. He had the muscle mass and the coolness under fire. He was young and eager and had no idea of what he was getting into, but he was game. He didn’t whine and he hadn’t run, even when Conner had given him a good beating, testing the kid’s resolve to take his punishment.
    He moved like water over rock. They’d have to work on his stealth. He sounded like a damned rhino crashing through the brush, but he also was a bit of an eager puppy. He looked up and met Rio’s eyes.
    They’d all watched—partly to test the kid—partly to make certain Conner didn’t allow his cat to kill him.
    Rio nodded, confirming the boy had earned enough respect that they’d give him a try.
    Conner waited until Jeremiah had gone up the ladder and the others had gone back into the cabin before he walked over to the shower. Feeling a little lazy, but good, he shifted and allowed the water to pour over him. It was cold, but invigorating. He could feel the bruises already starting to form up and down his body. There were one or two places where the boy’s claws had ripped skin, but his cat was calm, the first respite he’d had since he’d laid eyes on Isabeau.
    He let the cold water pour over his hot skin and allowed himself to breathe, really take a breath. Before, Isabeau’s scent had been drawn into his lungs, surrounding him, inside him, overwhelming his senses until he felt a little crazy. He had to come to some kind of a balance in order to function properly. They had to get the children back and that would mean proceeding with the plan to get into the compound.
    He dried off slowly and turned alternate ideas over and over in his mind. The thought of touching someone other than Isabeau was abhorrent to him. The idea of a woman as cruel and immoral as Imelda kissing him or touching him would inflame his cat to madness. He wasn’t certain he could actually do it.
    Not now. Not with her close and certainly not with her on the verge of the Han Vol Dan.
    Isabeau had no idea what would happen when her cat emerged. She would never, under any circumstances, tolerate another woman near her mate. Conner shoved his fingers through his damp hair and stared up at the cabin, hesitant to go back in where his cat would react to the close proximity of the men around Isabeau. He was in for a long night. His body was not going to get a reprieve from the relentless urgent demands.
    She had more power over him than she knew. On the nights he’d managed to sleep, he woke with the sound of her laughter in his mind. The image of her diving into water, looking over her shoulder, enticing him. His memories were mixed now, old and new. Past life and present one. All Isabeau. Everything good in his life was now simply Isabeau.
    He’d been walking through the motions for a year. Hiding in the