Leopard 05 - Savage Nature

the lair when he walks into the room? Or are you deliberately trying to make me look as if I haven’t taught you anything?”
    Charisse’s face flamed red. She moistened her lips, looked helplessly at her brother and swallowed hard. When she lifted her face, tears swam in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mr. Donovan. It’s nice to see you again. Saria, good morning.”
    Drake noticed Armande was not taken to task. He had a choice of greeting them and adding to his sister’s misery, or simply nodding his head in their direction. He nodded and shifted subtly, turning his body a bit protectively toward Charisse. Drake liked him better for it, and could see why Saria forgave him quite a lot.
    Drake took the small sofa across from Charisse and Armande, settling Saria beside him. “Where’s Pauline this morning?”
    “Makin’ herself a slave to her guests,” Iris said caustically. “Why she turned our family home into a bed-and-breakfast when she didn’t need the money, I’ll never know.”
    “She enjoys the company,” Saria answered, her voice deceptively low. “And cookin’ for her guests is a good deal of her fun. I’m surprised you don’t know that about her.”
    Iris pressed her lips together tightly, her blue eyes narrowing. “I see your manners haven’t improved any, Saria, but I expect nothing less of you.”
    “I suppose you think it’s perfectly okay to be rude because you’re so much older,” Drake said very softly. His voice carried a low menace.
    Charisse went white, moving closer to her brother for protection. Her breath hitched audibly. Armande put his arm across the back of the sofa, around her shoulders. Iris went very still and her blue eyes glittered dangerously. Two high spots of color appeared in her cheeks.
    Before the woman could retort, Drake sighed. “I know you must have come over this early for something important, so let’s get to it. I’ve been up all night acquainting myself with the area and I’m hungry and need to sleep. How can I help you?”
    Iris pressed her lips together hard in a gesture of complete displeasure before she relaxed and nodded her head. “Yes. You’re right. This is a lair matter and must be dealt with. My son was viciously attacked by Remy Boudreaux and I demand justice.”
    Drake stared at her a long time without expression, deliberately allowing the silence to stretch until the room was taut with tension. He slowly turned his head toward Armande. His vision banded and he knew his eyes had gone cat. To have a man dare to hunt Saria with a gun, fire it at her, hunt him and then hide behind his mother. It took every ounce of discipline to keep from leaping across the room and slashing a claw across the coward’s throat.
    “Is this true?” His voice came out as a growl.
    Armande flushed a deep red. He glanced at his mother and shook his head. “No, sir. It is not.”
    “Then I believe we are done here.”
    Iris hissed out a breath. “No we are not. Look at him. He can barely walk. His chest is black and blue. He’s tryin’ to protect the very man who nearly killed him.”
    “In a lair, Mrs. Mercier, the male leopards settle things in their own way. We can’t go to the police and if someone commits a crime against another member of the lair—particularly a female—he can be ostracized—driven from the lair—or killed. That is our system of justice and has been for hundreds of years.”
    “My son has never committed a crime,” Iris snapped. “You’re protectin’ Remy Boudreaux because of Saria. And I have told you repeatedly , it’s Lafont-Mercier, not Mercier.”
    Drake turned a predator’s stare on Iris. “We’re done here, Mrs. Lafont-Mercier. And if you’re not willing to abide by my decisions, you are welcome to leave the lair. In fact, you have no choice but to leave the lair.”
    “This is my home, not yours.” Iris leapt to her feet, clutching her handbag like a weapon. She glared at Armande, clearly expecting him to come to her aid.
    “Not if you don’t accept the leadership. Of course you could always push your son to challenge me. I would kill him, but maybe that’s what you want. You don’t seem to listen to him even when he gives you the truth.”
    Iris’s eyes brimmed with tears. She sank back down and looked helplessly for a tissue. “That’s a horrible thing to say to me. I love my son—my children. He came home so broken. He’s not a fighter. He wasn’t raised to be so—so crass. He has a good