She stayed quiet a few moments. He tangled his fingers in the silky strands of her hair. Thick, like most leopards, she kept her hair fairly short and rather chopped. On her he thought it looked good.
"I did take that into consideration," she admitted. "Ordinarily I might have stopped goin' into the swamp, although, to be truthful, I'm not certain how long I could stay away."
He understood. Her leopard needed the swamp.
"But I have the chance of a lifetime with my photography. If I blow it, I'm back huntin' gators, and believe me, it's difficult work. I need my own money. I don' want my brothers to think they need to support me. I received an advance for this job, more than I've ever made in a year, and if I complete it, there's triple that. I have no real choice."
He wasn't going to argue with her. Of course there was a choice, but she was building a career. Photography was not only her livelihood--but something her nature demanded she do. She'd taken money and made a commitment. She wasn't the type to renege on a commitment--one of the things he particularly found most attractive. No, he wouldn't have tried to forbid her to enter the swamp, but he sure as hell would have protected her.
The wind shifted slightly, carrying just the trace of a scent. Very carefully he caught her shoulders and eased her into a sitting position. He turned his body, placing himself squarely between Saria and certain danger. He could smell the mixture of fury and leopard rising.
8
THE man striding toward Drake and Saria was dressed in jeans and a light T-shirt, looking casually handsome as only someone with money could manage. Dark glasses shaded his eyes, but Drake could read the fury in his scent, the movement of his body and the fists clenched tightly against his thigh. He was armed--the gun was in a holdout strapped to his leg, but Drake smelled the gun oil from a recent cleaning.
Drake stood up, an easy fluid motion, and reached behind him to offer his hand to Saria. He pulled her up easily and retained possession of her hand, keeping her tucked slightly behind him. The waves of anger coming off the approaching stranger were personal, rather than anger at them for trespassing.
"Armande Mercier," Saria whispered.
Armande's face darkened. He clearly heard her. If Drake was reading him correctly, his leopard was close, fighting for control.
"What the hell are you doing, Saria?" Armande demanded, striding right up to them, cutting into Drake's personal space, obviously expecting him to step back. The move was practiced, an intimidation that had worked well for him in the past.
Drake hel fury s ground, remaining nearly nose to nose with the man. "Saria is guiding me through the swamp. I'm Drake Donovan, Mr. Bannaconni's representative." He poured authority into his voice. This man had been with the others the night before, but he hadn't been the one to fight Drake. He could see the shock when it registered that he was associated with Jake Bannaconni, the man who owned the properties they all leased.
"That doesn't give you any right . . ."
"I take it you aren't familiar with the lease your father signed?" Drake cut him off. "Step back, Mercier. I don't like anyone getting in my face." When the other man hesitated, Drake stepped into him. "Do it now." He kept his voice low, soft even, but the steel was there--and the threat.
Armande stared him directly in the eyes, but Drake's cat was already leaping to meet the threat. His gaze remained unblinking, the stare of the predator, his eyes nearly completely golden rather than his usual green. Armande gave ground reluctantly.
"I don't know why you would react with such anger and rudeness even if you thought we'd inadvertently trespassed on your land, but now that you know I have every legal right to be here, perhaps we can start over."
"I don' know you have a legal right to anything," Armande snapped.
Behind him, Saria shifted her weight, but she didn't react. Drake appreciated that she stayed quiet, waiting, as he was, to see what Armande intended. One wrong move and the man was certain to erupt into violence. Drake wanted to ease the tension. He needed to find a way to get the lair to accept his claim on Saria without bloodshed.
Armande's furious gaze leapt from Drake to Saria. "Damn right I'm angry. I don't want that little slut usin' my land as her own personal brothel. Do you fuck all your clients, Saria, or just the rich ones?"
Drake backhanded him. Hard. The blow rocked Armande and knocked his glasses sideways. So much for easing the tension. Fur rippled beneath his skin, and his jaw ached as his mouth filled with teeth. He fought the change, breathing deep to keep his furious leopard at bay. Cooler heads had to prevail, and right then the man wanted to beat Armande to a bloody pulp, but the leopard wanted to kill him.
Armande tore his glasses from his face and ripped at his shirt, as though to tear it from his body.
Drake stepped closer to him. "You do that, and I won't be able to control my leopard. He'll tear you apart. You've seen him and what he can do. You're angry, but not because Saria's a slut. You tried to force your leopard on hers and she didn't like it. You're the lowest kind of man, Mercier, thinking you're entitled to whoever you want regardless of their feelings. Saria is off-limits to scum like you."
Armande's fury erupted into a threatening growl, driven by the ferocious need of his cat.
"Armande!" The feminine voice cracked like a whip.
Armande froze. It took great effort, but he hung his head, breathing deeply to steady himself before turning away from Drake and Saria to face the newcomer. Charisse Mercier was breathtaking. She knew she was a beautiful woman and she walked as if everyone was watching her, her hips swaying gently and long dark hair flowing down her back. She wore a long pencil-thin skirt, slk shirt and fitted jacket that suited her figure and showed off her small waist. Her boots were fashionable, but looked out of place even on the edge of the swamp.
"Saria, cher, how good to see you," she greeted, with genuine affection in her voice. "Armande, I gave Saria permission to picnic here." She smiled at Drake and offered her hand. "I'm Charisse Mercier and this is my brother Armande."
Drake took her hand. She was trembling, but trying to hide it. There was no lie, she was genuinely happy to see Saria, but she was shaking with fear for her brother. News traveled fast in a lair and the intruder had taken down two of their best fighters. She didn't want him attacking her brother.
"Drake Donovan." He identified himself and moved his body subtly. Saria, bless her, took the cue and moved up beside him, offering Charisse a kiss on both cheeks.
"Thanks for letting us use your land, Charisse. It's so beautiful here."
"Bien merci. I think so," Charisse said easily. She put her hand on her brother's arm and looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Armande, I should have let you know Saria would be here today."
He jerked away from her and Charisse looked as if he'd struck her. She turned away from them, but Drake caught the sheen of tears in her eyes. Armande gave Drake a threatening stare, looked at Saria and spit on the ground before turning away from them. Deliberately he stepped on his sunglasses, smashing them before walking away.
Charisse gasped and dropped to her knees, gathering the pieces of the broken glasses into her hands. Drake frowned and looked at Saria. She shrugged, sending him a look that said Charisse was different and no one could predict her strange behavior. She went to the woman and put her arm around her, comforting her.
Drake repacked the picnic basket and folded the blanket, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Charisse seemed under her brother's control, yet she had stopped his leopard from attacking. How? If she wasn't the dominant sibling, how had she managed to stop a male leopard in a fury from an attempted kill? Armande had acted jealous, yet if his leopard had been so enamored with Saria's leopard, no one, not even his sibling, could have stopped him. He'd acted more the petulant child than a jealous lover.
Again, Charisse's tears appeared genuine, almost childlike, when just a few moments earlier, she'd been a self-possessed, very confident woman. Something about the situation made him uneasy. H
is cat was hyperaware, studying the situation, every bit as tense as Drake. He took a careful look around as he packed the picnic gear into the boat. The two women were whispering together, Saria holding Charisse as she might a child, patting her back and stroking her hair.
Drake inhaled, shifting position, allowing his cat to rise close to the surface to process information. Armande hadn't gone far. He was in the trees, watching, and now he wasn't alone. Robert Lanoux was with him. They were being hunted. Was Charisse a distraction? Did she know? A third man was moving into position on the other side of the trees.
"Saria." He kept his voice low, but the command carried. "We have to go now."
She turned her head and saw him pick up her rifle and check the chambers. She didn't hesitate, but ran to him. "It's loaded." She started engine. "Armande?"
"And Robert Lanoux. A third man. I think it's the first challenger."
Charisse, looking puzzled, ran down to the dock and waved, blowing kisses at Saria. She appeared to be completely oblivious of anything wrong.
"The first challenger?"
He kept his eyes glued to the island and the butt of the rifle snugly fit to his shoulder, finger on the trigger. He had Armande in his site and the bastard was dead if he made one wrong move.
"They came at me last night. I recognize his scent." He never took his eyes off his target, letting Armande know he was dead if he moved. "Get us out of here, Saria."
"Did Charisse set us up?"
Yeah, that was his woman, quick on the uptake, but there was hurt in her voice, and that tugged at his heart. "I don't know, baby, maybe. Or maybe they used her."
She took them out into the channel fast, speeding around the bend and away from the beautiful, but treacherous Mercier land. Drake slipped the rifle back into her custom-built case and sank down. He had to bring in his team. Things were going to hell fast and he hadn't even gotten to Fenton's Marsh yet.
"Take me out to the marsh now," he said. "I need to get a look at it before they do anything else."
"I think we need to go to my brothers," Saria said. "They might not like us bein' together, Drake, but they won't allow any harm to come to you."
Her brothers' first loyalty should be to her, but after some of the things he'd heard, he wasn't certain it would be and did he dare risk being anywhere near Saria when the lair launched a full assault on him? He needed to choose his own battleground. The locals would have the advantage in the swamp. They'd grown up there and knew every inch of it.
"Is this my fault?" Saria asked. "Because I chose you instead of one of them?" She turned her head to look into his eyes. "Tell me the truth."
"I don't know what it's about, Saria. And the bottom line always with a shifter, is whether your leopard will accept your choice as a mate. Female leopards can be extremely difficult."
"She seems like a freakin' hussy to me," Saria muttered. "She would have been all over you if she could have."
"Don't remind me," he flashed her a small rueful grin, hoping to ease the tension. "I must have been out of my mind trying to be gallant."
"I like that in you. Of course, at the time, I wasn't appreciating that trait so much."
Her smile was a wide flash of her small white teeth, but it somehow didn't reach her eyes. She glanced toward the land on either side of them and then back at him. "In order to follow us, they'll have to use a boat to get to the marsh or it will take hours. We'll hear them comin' if they use a boat."
Drake was glad she didn't bring up her brothers again. He didn't want to hurt her with his misgivings, but he had enough complications without adding her family to the mix. He simply nodded. He was armed with guns and knives. His leopard was close to he surface and his woman had a rifle and at least one knife. He wasn't altogether certain she'd shoot one of her friends if she had to, but if they were attacked, she wouldn't panic.
"Do you think Armande really was the one who clawed my back and bit me?"
"Yes."
Saria shook her head. "I don'. I know him. I would have recognized his scent."
That was true. But his own leopard had reacted with a fierce, abiding hatred, as if he had recognized the scent. As certain as Saria was that Armande had not been her attacker, Drake was certain that he was. But why? The claiming hadn't been successful. Armande was not a young teen, he'd certainly been around and he held himself with great confidence. He should have known how to claim a female leopard. What in the hell was wrong with this lair?
Drake rubbed his jaw, wishing he'd told Jake to send his team. He was certain he could protect Saria, even if they came at him in a group, but he'd have to kill some of them, and he wasn't sure she'd forgive him. Damn it all, they were fucked any way he looked at.
"Drake." Saria's voice was soft but compelling.
He looked up at her, meeting those enormous dark eyes. She looked so young and innocent, so out of his league he wanted to groan. She stood, one hand resting lightly on the helm, the wind ruffling her thick white-gold hair, her gaze meeting his without flinching. He was struck by the joy that flooded him, an emotion he'd only experienced in leopard form, running free in the rain forest. Now, looking at her, he knew his world was made up of one woman.
"Aside from the leopard factor, and my choosin' you, I want you to know that if you're in any kind of danger, I would stand for you. I took your money and that put you, like any other client, under my protection. That means something to me and anyone who knows me knows I would protect my client with my life against any danger in the swamp--and that includes humans or shifters. That's just one reason. I did choose you. Whether my leopard accepted you or not, or whether it's a permanent thing, I wanted you to be the man to see me through my leopard emergin'. That's for me to decide, not anyone else, man or woman, lair or not. I stand with you. I give you my word."
God. He couldn't look at her, not with that lump in his throat and his heart expanding. Damn her. She was so far, so deep inside of him he couldn't begin to think past her "whether it's permanent or not." He wanted to lay her down right there in the boat and ensure she'd never think of going to any other man to fulfill her needs.
He also had a need to comfort her. She was standing there, running them fast through the water, her legs absorbing the hard slap of the water beneath the boat, her body moving easily, with familiarity, her expression determined, but in her eyes there was confusion and fear--even hurt. His leopard leapt to protect her, reaching for her, just as the man wanted to do.
"This could get ugly fast, honey," he warned.
She nodded. "I know. I just thought it was important that you knew I wouldn't run--or betray you."
"You didn't have to tell me." He still wasn't certain she could pull the trigger against a friend or neighbor, but it was on him to protect her from having to make that coice. "But I appreciate it, Saria. Let's just hope no one gets stupid here."
"The tip of Fenton's Marsh is comin' up on our left," she said, slowing the boat just a little. "Around the next bend there's a small dilapidated dock. It's mostly rotted, but we can tie up there and go in that way. It's a little dangerous, but we're at the furthermost point from where the others can get to us by land. I think you can take a look around and we can get out before they arrive, unless they follow by boat."
"I'm game," Drake said. "Let's get it done. Take me to the dump sites. I'll need to mark this territory fast though first. Stay in the boat and keep that rifle handy."
She frowned at him. "Mark the territory?"
"If they come at me as a leopard and they're in my territory, by law they'll have to come one at a time."
"It isn't safe, Drake, and you know it."
She knew if three had banded together as men hunting him, it was logical to think they would do the same as leopards. Of course, he'd thought of that, but he was going to be in the right, so if things went badly, Jake and his team would have the law on their side. He didn't argue, he simply got out of the boat. The water was up to his knees. It was an eerie feeling wadin
g through heavy reeds knowing an alligator could be near.
Saria stood in the boat, rifle in hand, gaze on the water. She was very still, all but her eyes, moving restlessly, quartering the area around him. He saluted her when he made it to drier land. The earth felt spongy beneath his feet and his leopard reached for the change in an effort to protect him. He breathed deeply to keep the change at bay. Pain streaked down his leg as he quickened his pace, reminding him of his wounds from the night before.
He made it into the comparative shelter of the first stand of trees not out in the water, knowing he wasn't completely out of Saria's sight, but his leopard was impatient to be allowed his freedom. There was a certain urgency the animal was exhibiting and over the years Drake had learned to rely on the instincts of his leopard. He tossed his clothes aside, uncaring that Saria would see him with all the scars and wounds on his body. The change was already on him, his leopard rising as he reached to embrace the transformation.
Power poured through him. Roped muscles stretched and he was running, the leopard raking trees and dragging leaves into piles to mark them as he raced against time to claim as much territory as possible to warn the other males away. It took longer than he wanted, as the leopard reveled in his freedom and untouched wilderness stretching out before him.
He forced his leopard to become aware their mate was unprotected, the one means he knew would deter the animal from continuing. Once he had him circling back, Drake processed the information the leopard had collected on the marsh itself. A beautiful place, it seemed relatively untouched by human or leopard and that struck him as peculiar. If a leopard was killing here, he would mark his territory. There was no scent trace, no markings, and no tree had been touched until Drake had raked it.
What leopard would do that? This lair was confusing. A leopard had a certain nature throughout the world. Instincts were ingrained. It mattered little what region the leopard was from, whether shifter or animal, most of the instincts were the same. Shifters generallyd for life, unlike their animal brethren, but there were very little differences in the nature. Lairs, regions where shifters lived in harmony, had specific rules that were enforced for the good of everyone. They lived by rigid rules to keep the aggressive and dominant males from harming others. Without those rules, no lair would survive. Was this one on the brink of chaos?