Wild Fire by Christine Feehan Page A

like a moth to a flame instead of being repelled as she should have been.
    Conner lowered the body silently to the ground and let out a series of chuffing noises. The sound pierced the veil of mist rising like clouds around them, reverberating in the darkness, mixing with the natural sounds of the forest. Far off, she heard an answer, the common prusten greeting of a leopard, much like the snorting of a horse. Another answered with a combination that resembled the coo of a pigeon and water running over rocks. A third leopard chimed in with short muffled sneezing, forming a triangle with Conner and Isabeau in the center. The vocalization lasted less than half a second, but the sounds were chilling.
    There in the night, already facing unseen enemies, to be surrounded by dangerous, wild animals was terrifying. She knew leopards were more widespread than any other cat, because they were more adaptable—more cunning and bold. They were known to stalk people in villages, going right into houses and taking their prey. They were secretive and supposed to be solitary, so why were there at least three of them? Unless the fire had driven them to the river just as it had Conner and Isabeau. She knew leopards were extremely dangerous—much like Conner. Or maybe he was more so, being man too. Did that give him more intelligence? More control? And maybe he wasn’t the only leopard on his team.
    Her mouth was so dry she feared she couldn’t find it in her to swallow, and somewhere the trembling had started. Conner made his way back to her in that silent way of his and lifted her off the ground, setting her on her feet. Pain jarred through her body and her wrist throbbed where she’d sprained it. She stood quietly while he brushed the insects from her shuddering body. She didn’t live like this, with great adventures. She lived a life of solitude, hidden from the world in her precious rain forest, working with her plants. Most of the time she was alone or with a guide, and she certainly didn’t get involved with drug cartels or dangerous men—until Conner.
    “I’ll get you out of this,” he said.
    His voice was gentle, a slow drawl—like a drug to her, something once experienced, always craved, like his touch. Like the focused, piercing stare from his eyes. So intent. So completely locked on to her. It was exhilarating and unnerving all at the same time. The brush of his fingers against her skin sent tremors through her body, ripples of awareness through her until her very core turned a heated liquid. Surrounded by death and danger, she was more susceptible to him than ever.
    “I know you will.” She kept her voice low, afraid of giving herself away. “Those were leopards, weren’t they?”
    “Friends. I warned them they had two more coming at them. Rio’s got Adan safe.”
    “The leopards aren’t real leopards,” she guessed. She should have known it was Conner’s friends answering his call. Isabeau let her breath out. Friends. They had friends in the midst of this madness. “Are they like you?”
    “Like us,” he corrected and reached to pull leaves from her hair. “They’re like us, Isabeau.”
    She didn’t move, absorbing the feel of his fingers in her hair. He had a way of making her feel special and cared for—protected and loved—yet she knew it was an illusion. She’d hired him for those traits—to seduce another woman with that magnetism. Now she wasn’t so certain she could watch him do it.
    “I shouldn’t have brought you here.” The confession slipped out in spite of her resolve not to engage with him over the past.
    His roughened palm cupped the side of her face, the pad of his thumb sliding seductively back and forth, nearly mesmerizing her as completely as his voice did. “No, you shouldn’t have, not if you wanted to be safe. But it’s too late for regrets. We’re already here and we’re in this mess all the way. We can’t leave those children to Imelda Cortez and we can’t pretend