"I'm takin' you the safe way around and stayin' out of the marsh as much as possible. This way is longer, but less hazardous, although we're comin' back into the reeds, so look sharp if we go through water. What are you hopin' to see?" she asked. "The bodies are long gone."
"My leopard will be able to scent them. I want to know if there were others. It's possible your killer has been using the island for a dump site for a while."
"I don' know why, but I still think the first time was different than the others. There were two boats, and I suspected they were up to some illegal activity."
"Two different killers?"
She frowned, shaking her head as she wove her way through the reeds. "No. More like that time it wasn't planned and the other times deliberate."
He noticed she kept her rifle cradled carefully in her arms and she was very alert, watching for alligators as they neared the reeds. She stopped at one point and then gave an area a wide berth.
They walked for perhaps another mile. His leopard began to settle, allowing him to breathe easier. The terrible need to explode into rage subsided gradually, and with it the tension drained from his body, allowing him to drop his guard enough to enjoy their surroundings.
The foliage had fewer wildflowers tangled among the dense shrubbery and more trees and large brush spaced farther apart. There was evidence of small animals everywhere. Birds had settled back into the branches and when they neared the outer edges of the curved property, he could see egrets and herons wading in the shallow reeds.
Saria took them to a sheltered cove, one where the ground was solid and trees lined the water's edge, shading the edge of the marsh and the reeds jutting out into the water.
She spread out her arms and turned in a circle. "This is where I found the second body. It was half in and half out of the water over there." She pointed a distance away to a long path where the brush was flattened leading to the edge of the reeds and deeper water--obviously an alligator slide. "And over there." She pointed to a spot a good deal away from the slide where someone might choose to picnic, thinking themselves safe from the gator. "There were bottles from our bar lyin' on the ground."
He took her hand and led her back to the interior, away from alligators and dead bodies. The ground was solid and the trees had thick branches. If need be, she could easily climb up one, although there was no evidence of alligators this far inland.
"I'm going to shift and take a look around, Saria. It may take a while."
"I want to take some photographs of you. Is that all right? In your leopard form."
"You know that's not a good idea." Drake hated to deny her anything. "Even for your own use, it's just not a good idea."
"How could anyone tell the difference between a shifter and a leopard?"
He handed her his shirt, shrugging out of it easily. "They'll know the picture was taken here in the marsh, honey. How will you explain a leopard in Fenton's Marsh?"
Saria seemed fascinated by the muscles on his chest. She stared while she folded his shirt. Drake kicked off his shoes and dropped his hands to the front of his jeans. Her gaze dropped with his hands as he parted the material and peeled them from his body. He liked that she was fascinated. She was going to have to get used to seeing him naked and she didn't seem to mind, although she appeared a little intimidated.
"Your brother Remy is a tough man." He tried distracting her.
She blinked, trying to focus on his face. "All of them are."
"This lair needs a strong leader. And he fought circles around their appointed fighter. He'd take any of them down in seconds."
"My brothers stay to themselves."
"Isn't Mahieu seeing Charisse?" He handed her the jeans, desperately trying to think of anything but sex. Suddenly sex was on his mind in a big way, and being a man, he found his thoughts physically impossible to hide. She was already intimidated enough by the thought of having sex with him.
"Well, with any of my brothers you just never know. Lojos and Gage have been givin' him a really bad time about her, teasin', you know. Mahieu doesn't say much, but he's been hittin' the jazz clubs with her."
She made no attempt to pull her gaze away from his body. Her eyes grew big and she raised her eyebrows. "I don' know, Drake, you're just a little bigger than I expected."
The woman could make the devil blush. Instead of stepping back from him, she stepped closer to him and reached toward him hesitantly, as if afraid he'd bat her hand away. He went still. So did his leopard. Both held their breath. Her gaze jumped to his face, burning into his, then dropped again to his heavy erection. Tentatively, her fingers brushed over his cock, a soft slide of just the pads of her fingers, as if he might burn her skin--instead, she burned his.
The breath slammed from his lungs. Hot blood rushed through his veins to pool into aicked, urgent need. Every nerve ending seemed centered in his groin. Her fingers stroked over the length of him, tracing him, shaping him, sliding lower to cup his sac. A low growl escaped, his throat closing on the sound so it came out strangled.
"So hot," she murmured as if to herself. "Alive."
"Very alive," he admitted, gritting his teeth. He didn't want her to stop, but it was torture, pure and simple.
Saria looked up again at Drake's face. Lines of desire were etched deep. His eyes had gone fiery gold--like the blazing sun. She moistened her lips. Everything about him was beautiful to her. She loved the idea that his body was so hot and hard just for her. There was something powerful and freeing about taking control. Her fingers played over his body as if it was a musical instrument, sliding and stroking and shaping while she committed the feel of him to her memory. A single pearly drop of his essence leaked from the smooth, velvet head.
Saria stared down at the drop and licked her lips a second time. Her mouth watered. Deep inside, she felt her leopard stir, and then stretch with languid interest. The amorous cat had been driving her crazy earlier in the swamp--something she didn't want to admit to Drake in front of her brothers, but now she didn't want her leopard's response. She wanted this exploration to be all her. Looking up, she thought that Drake's face could have been carved from stone. His eyes were hooded, heavy-lidded, his expression one of pure power and passion. His eyes had gone completely golden with lust and unbridled need--for her. She drank in the sight of him, her heart pounding with daring.
"Drake." She stared down at his erection. "Show me."
He didn't ask questions, or protest. He took her hand and wrapped it around him like a fist. He showed her how to pump him. He felt like velvet over steel, a fascinating combination. She wanted to spend a long time learning all about his body, what made him gasp with pleasure and what brought him to his knees. What put that sexy, heated glitter in his gold eyes.
She'd read about sex, and she'd certainly fantasized, but she hadn't considered being with any of the men she'd grown up with. This man with his rock hard body, the blazing heat in his eyes and passionate nature was everything she'd imagined. Her body felt hot and needy, her skin so sensitive that the thin shirt hurt. She felt hungry for him, starved to know the taste and feel of him. She wanted to make her own claim on him.
She hadn't thought of herself as a jealous woman, but the thought of another woman touching him made her want to claw with lethal intent. She wanted to be the one to please him, to be the one he craved with the same intensity she craved him. The need came in waves, a hot rush through her veins pulsing through her feminine core. The deep urgent desire was not entirely brought on by her leopard, although she understood the feline much better than she had.
Drake Donovan was the sexiest man she'd ever encountered and the chemistry between them was off the charts. There was no resisting the terrible urgency in her body. Without thinking, she bent her head to taste that silky drop, her tongue curling around the broad head. He jerked in her fist, swelled more. A growl rumbled in his chest and she licked with small delicate strokes, smiling when she was rewarded with hot pulses.
"I'm not a
damned saint, Saria," he hissed, his voice nearly demonic.
She looked up at him, a chill sliding down her spine at the desperate tone in his voice. His eyes blazed with a dark lust that only intensified her ravenous hunger for his taste. His hand moved hers to the base, wrapping her fingers tightly around his thick erection. She let the hand bunched in her hair guide her to her knees in the thick grass. The impressive amount of flesh in her fist held her fascinated gaze.
"Draw it into your mouth, nice and slow," he instructed. "Just like that. Easy now, get used to the size and feel." He threw back his head and groaned when she obeyed. "Use your tongue, baby."
She pulled back and licked him, much like a cat licking at a bowl of cream. When he pulsed against her tongue, she enclosed him in her mouth. All that silken steel. The taste of him was feral, hot, all male. His hips jerked and she blinked up at him again, seeing the amazing gold of his eyes shimmering with heat.
His hips jerked again in a desperate, shallow rhythm she immediately caught onto. She drew him deeper, and allowed her mouth to glide back. He drew a ragged, harsh breath in response. She heard her own moan as he filled her mouth again, as she felt power surge through her, a dark passion that fed the lust driving her. She needed him like this, groaning, at the very edge of his control, while her untutored mouth drove him wild.
"Saria." He said her name. That was all, a single word, but his voice was rough and demanding, a harsh plea for mercy, a command to continue.
He was thick, stretching her lips, filling her mouth, hot and pulsing with life. He tasted so male, so much dark passion, hot and delicious. She licked at the underside of the broad, sensitive head, enjoying the sensation and his reaction. He groaned when she took him deeper. His hand suddenly fisted in her hair, holding her still while his hips jerked in a series of shallow thrusts.
"Relax, honey. Just relax and breathe. Take a breath and hold it when I slide a little deeper. I won't let anything happen to you."
She did as he said, taking a breath, feeling him slide deeper until she was afraid she might choke, but he went no further and the sensation of feeling his heart beat in her mouth gave her an answering pulse deep inside her core. She felt white lightning arc through her body, as if every nerve ending was connected to her mouth.
"Flatten your tongue."
Even as the words left his mouth he groaned as she complied, rubbing that sweet spot under the broad head as he slid out. He held her head still as he slid back inside. Again she had to fight her own reflexes not to panic, but he was careful. He began a rhythm, pulling her closer, letting her take a breath and pulling her head down onto him as he thrust.
"Suck harder, honey. Yeah. Like that. That's so fucking good. More, honey, give me harder. I need it."
She listened to his harsh instructions, following them carefully, giving herself up to him, wanting only his pleasure, loving the sounds of his groans and the helpless thrusting of his hips. She dug her fingers into his hip, holding him closer, using her tongue and the heat of her mouth to bring him closer to release. She felt him grow larger, felt the heat and fire of him. He pulsed with life, with such erotic passion she couldn't have stopped herself if she'd wanted to.
His hand pued her head down just a little farther as she took a breath, jerking in short spurts, and then she felt his hot release pouring into her. He moaned low and long, the sound as arousing as the hard flesh jerking in the heat of her mouth. His fingernails sank into her scalp and one shoulder as he breathed hard.
"Use your tongue, baby," he urged. "That feels so damned good."
She lapped at him, a gentle ministry to calm them both. She was breathing nearly as hard as he was. She felt achy everywhere, almost desperate to rip off her clothes and impale herself on that thick, velvet-over-steel spike.
Drake drew her up, holding her close to him. "That was unbelievable, Saria."
"I'm sure I'll get better," she said, her gaze suddenly worried.
"Better might kill me." He brushed a kiss over her temple. "We'll finish this at the inn in a comfortable room with a bed. Your first time should be special, honey."
She wasn't certain she could hold out for special, but he had a point. The swamp was no place to try to have sex. She nodded, unable to get past her own desire. She needed breathing space from him.
Drake could tell Saria was struggling and he cursed himself for allowing her to service him when he couldn't show her what making love was. He could see she wanted to be alone and he hated that he had to comply, to just leave her after she'd given him so much pleasure.
"Will you be all right?"
"I practically live in the swamp," she said, studying the edge of the trees. "I can take pictures while you do whatever it is leopards do."
Uneasy, he shifted, staying close to her for a moment to rub his fur all over her, in his own way trying to reassure her before he set off. Drake searched the entire area, crisscrossing the wild terrain, using every means available to search out evidence of a leopard making a kill. He had never been so frustrated--or alarmed--in his life. There were numerous places where he scented blood and death, six to be exact, and he'd uncovered more empty bottles from the Boudreaux bar, but nowhere did he find evidence of a leopard. Not a single track. Not a scent mark. No fur.
His leopard at times was very settled and then suddenly would become so agitated Drake feared he might not be able to control him. There seemed no pattern to the sudden surge of temper as Drake picked his way through several acres. Saria was at the center of the ever-widening circle he used to hunt for evidence and he made certain he could scent her at all times.
He knew Saria couldn't have imagined a leopard bite. It was fairly distinctive. She'd agonized over writing the letter to Jake, so there had to be truth in what she'd seen. Leopards left trails. They marked everything. Where they'd been. Territories they moved through. It was natural behavior and, although he was extremely strong and controlled, he doubted if he could stop his leopard from marking. Especially after a kill.
He retraced every step, aware time was slipping away. He didn't trust the marsh at night. The lair of leopards was so out of control, it was impossible to know what they might do next. Before anything else, he had to keep Saria safe. He needed to get back to the inn, shower, collect his team and meet Saria's brothers. There was nothing here to indicate leopard, but there was no doubt in his mind that Fenton's Marsh was a killing ground.
He made his way back to Saria as the sun was setting. Layers of crimson red, burnt orange and antique gold filled the sky, turning the reflecting waters surrounding the tip of Fenton's Marsh into shades of color. An alligator, so still it appeared to be a log, sat on the bank, just above the reeds. A slight breeze created a ripple through the field of reeds, so that waves appeared to be lapping at the alligator's feet. The gator was large, at least eighteen feet or more, a majestic, prehistoric creature from another age.
Bats wheeled and dipped over the water, feasting on insects, small dark bodies against the colorful sky. The birds walking like stick figures in the reeds seemed no more than cardboard silhouettes against the brilliant colors of the sunset. The tree trunks reflected in the water made it look like a painting, shimmering colors of gold and red.
The swamp was breathtaking as the sun came down. Saria crouched low, eye to her camera, capturing the beauty of the coming evening in a frozen image. Her clothes were streaked with dirt and her hair was wild, but she belonged there in the midst of all that beauty. She took his breath away. He could see the outline of her breast pushing against her T-shirt, that soft inviting curve, her narrow rib cage and tucked-in waist. As she shifted position, he admired the curve of her butt and hips.
Saria moved with confidence in spite of the sun going down. She was unafraid, even though she was well aware of the dangers of the swamp. She took several pictures, snapping quickly, and he waited patiently so as not to disturb her. She was leopard. She would know he was there.
When she slowly straightened, stretching
to loosen tight muscles, he shifted, emerging naked, going for his clothes. She turned to watch him, raising the camera to her eye again and snapping as he pulled on his jeans.
"You didn't?"
"Just your face." She laughed. "You had such a shocked look I couldn't resist. You're not the only perv here, you know."
He loved that she was unapologetic about enjoying his body. He found it strange that he'd only just met her. It seemed a lifetime ago, as if he'd known her forever, and yet each encounter was perfect and new. He had often imagined falling in love as a slow process. Learning about one another, the incredible chemistry that came with that first rush of desire and then a slow, smoldering growth that was calm and sure and steady. His experience with Saria was all of that and nothing like that. He fell like a ton of brick, dropped right into her fathomless dark eyes and kept falling.
He knew he couldn't live without her, when only a few days ago he didn't know of her existence. He'd been half alive, walking through the world without seeing or appreciating the beauty of it. Saria gave him the gift of sight. The sound of her laughter was like music on the wind, elusive and impossible to catch, yet she'd given him that gift as well. The trust in her eyes when she looked at him humbled him. The way she freely gave herself to him, uninhibited, willing for him to instruct her just so she could please was a gift beyond all measure.
"Take us home, Saria. We'll get cleaned up, pick up my team and go meet your brothers."
She blinked, looked away from him and spent an inordinate amount of time putting her camera away while he dressed.en tigh/div> Drake moved up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Tell me, honey. If you're worried, talk to me. I don't want you ever to worry needlessly. We can figure it out."
She moved against him, fitting her body into his as if for reassurance. "Are you expectin' trouble with my brothers? Is that why you're bringin' your team?"
"Is that what you thought?" He nibbled on her neck, finding the sweet spot where her neck and shoulder joined. He could tell he found it by the way her breathing changed. He kissed her there several times. "I want your brothers to get to know them as human beings. We need allies in the lair. We can't be fighting them all the time and your brothers are a force to be reckoned with. Remy is strong and intelligent, a natural leader. The lair will listen to him."