Leopard's Prey

Butterfield didn’t want to lose his meal ticket.
    “You don’ have to be here for this,” Remy said. “You can go up to your room. You’re safe either way. Drake would never harm you, not even in a leopard’s rage.”
    The door banged open and Drake Donovan strode in. He didn’t look right or left, just stared straight at Robert. He was barefoot, his jeans riding low on his hips and his shirt open, revealing roped muscles and numerous scars.
    “Dion, get the hell out of my home,
now
, before I decide you’ve got a beating coming. Don’t hesitate. Don’t argue. Just go while you still can.”
    Drake’s eyes had gone a deep gold-green, his wealth of thick blond hair falling in a wild array over his forehead. There were telltale signs of the change, the darker shadow of rosettes deep within the strands of gold.
    Remy swept Bijou behind him, just as a precautionary measure, his body shielding hers. Drake’s rage was under control, but it was there, smoldering beneath the surface, and with any leopard, that wasn’t a good sign. Remy’s own leopard reacted, snarling and raking at him, ready to leap forward to protect him as well as his mate.
    The tension in the room rose as Dion slowly stood. Robert cringed and caught at his brother’s shirt. “You can’t leave. You know he’s goin’ to kill me.”
    Dion shook his head, his face a mask of sorrow. “I don’ know what happened to you, Robert. But you did this and you have to face the consequences. I can’t keep coverin’ up for you. I did my best to pull you out of the things you’d gotten into, but you refused. You challenged Remy and then Drake. You’re my brother and I love you, but I can’t fix this one for you.”
    He looked straight at Saria. “Once again, I’m sorry I dumped this in your lap.”
    He turned and walked out without looking back at Robert, his shoulders stiff and his head up. Remy was proud of him. He didn’t know if he would have the same courage to leave one of his brothers to face an enraged leader of the lair. Drake, according to their laws, could force Robert to fight him as a leopard—and he would be well within his rights to kill him.
    The silence stretched out, tension building. Drake’s eyes were nearly completely gold, never once leaving Robert’s face, never blinking. His entire being focused on the man slumped in the chair in front of him. Robert’s expression was sulky and a little defiant, even though fear permeated the room, oozing through his pores along with every breath he exhaled.
    “I need to know if you’re a member of this lair,” Drake snapped, his voice like a whip. “Where do your loyalties lie? Answer now, Robert.”
    Robert blinked rapidly. Remy felt Bijou’s fist twist in the back of his shirt. He laid his palm lightly against her thigh. She was trembling. He wanted to reassure her, but right now, he was Drake’s second and protector—not that Drake needed one—but that was the way of the lair.
    “With the lair,” Robert mumbled. “I was drunk, Drake. I would never challenge for leadership. Never. My leopard was in a frenzy because there was a female . . .”
    “Do
not
place blame with your leopard. It’s my job to know every leopard in this lair, their strength and weaknesses and their abilities. Your leopard isn’t difficult to handle. Remy’s is a fighter, continually looking for supremacy, and he always keeps his leopard under control—as I do mine. If you exhibited just a little control yourself and a little bit of discipline, you would never have a problem.
You’re
to blame. You’re responsible for the behavior of your cat at all times.”
    “It was
her
.” Robert pointed a finger at Bijou. “Her leopard led mine on.”
    A growl rumbled deep in Remy’s chest. He bared his teeth at Robert, but he remained absolutely still. Drake was the leader, and he was following the plan they’d devised. Robert had to state his loyalty so there was no safely going back.
    “So you’re telling me you’re incapable of controlling your leopard, no matter the circumstances.”
    Drake’s voice had gone very quiet, quiet enough to send a chill down Remy’s spine. If that tone had sent a message to him, he couldn’t imagine what Robert was feeling. It was a question no shifter wanted to be asked. If he couldn’t control his leopard, it was a virtual death sentence. No shifter could be around humans if his leopard, with its intense mood swings and violent outbursts, ruled.
    Robert