Burning Wild
Page 44
The leopard leapt from its still-standing position, clearing a good six feet or more, touched the ground and sprang a second time.
“Shoot him,” Joshua implored, tearing off his jeans and kicking them away. He took two running steps and began shifting as he sprinted toward Drake and the leopard.
The leopard hit Drake with the force of a freight train, slamming into his chest and knocking him backward. Drake used the rifle to ward off the powerful cat, although it was a flimsy defense, and the raking claws streaked fire across his chest, just missing his throat.
“Jake. Fight!” He looked straight into the golden eyes.
Joshua’s leopard came in from the side. Jake leapt, spinning in midair to avoid the attack. His mind red with rage, the call for blood filling his thoughts, he barely heard Drake’s voice. He respected Drake. Liked him. Yet he could barely distinguish Drake from his mortal enemies.
Faced with the scent of a human male blocking his way back to his mate, with a male leopard rushing toward him and with a murderous rage in his heart, Jake tried to concentrate on Drake’s voice. He needed something to drown out the roaring of his leopard.
Joshua’s leopard leapt the remaining distance, determined to keep him off Drake. Jake spun, his flexible spine nearly folding double as he whirled to meet the new threat. The slash of the stiletto claws sent pain flashing along Jake’s thigh. For a moment his lungs burned with agony and he drew a deep, shuddering breath. Victory. Victory in pain. Pain was his life, and it steadied him as nothing else could have.
He took hold of his snarling leopard and forced his iron will on the cat. Murmuring soothing words, he promised they’d have their mate soon. He backed the snarling cat up, inch by inch. His leopard fought him every step of the way, instincts warring with his human mind. Jake was strong—stronger than the leopard when it came to his determination—and the leopard abruptly gave in, spinning around and running into the trees.
The leopard ran, putting on a burst of speed to take him deep into the woods. The need for his mate bordered on desperation, and Jake wanted the leopard as far from the ranch and Emma as possible. He had no idea what was happening to him as a leopard—or as a man—but he had to learn to control it before he could possibly make any demands on Emma.
The wind rose and howled through the trees, warning of a coming storm. Darkness spread and with it came the rain. The drops poured down as if the very skies wept for him, wept with him for the vicious cruelty running in his veins. The large pads allowed him to be silent as he moved fast, going deeper into the protection of the woods, trying to outrun himself and his ugly, brutal nature. He had feared his entire life that he would be like them—the enemies—and a part of him had tried to convince himself it wasn’t so, but the way his body and his mind burned obsessively for Emma, the way he reacted each time he saw her, the violent emotions swirling in his belly all told a different story.
The leopard turned his face up to the rain and wind, allowing it to sweep over him, hoping it would cleanse him. The storm increased in strength, the wind whipping through the trees, bending samplings, tearing off leaves and cracking smaller boughs so that debris rained down on him. The wind on his fur felt right, the storm adding to the leopard’s edgy mood. He was free. He could lose himself here, where the trees and the water drowned out the noise of the city. Where no one could stop him from taking his prey as he was meant to do. There was music in the wind and leaves, kinship with the animals and birds. He belonged somewhere. He ran free, going for miles even when his heart felt as though it was bursting and his breath came in great puffs of vapor.
He came to a swollen stream and plunged in without hesitation, uncaring that the current caught at him, buffeting the large cat and sweeping him down toward a bend. Branches hit him hard, rolling him under, and he came up snarling and spitting, using his heavy, roped muscles to power him to the edge where he could drag himself onto land.
He stood, head down, sides heaving, fighting for breath, fighting himself. What the hell was he doing? He had set himself on a course of revenge and somewhere along the line that course had altered. He didn’t understand emotion and he didn’t trust it. His emotions were too violent, too intense, and he was too capable of hurting others.
The pain from the claw rakes on his side reminded him of every single victory of his childhood, every time he exerted control, every time he built his determination to survive and grow strong. The leopard lay down under a large tree, the umbrella of leaves and branches swaying wildly with the turbulent wind, allowing the rain to continually pour down on him, cooling the heat of his body and the wildness of his mind.
Drake had been with him for two years. Joshua had followed, leaving the rain forest to try a different life. He was more easygoing than Drake, laughed more, but behind his green eyes were dark shadows. Jake hadn’t pried when Joshua had asked for a job. Jake knew he was leopard, a friend of Drake’s, and although a part of him was envious at the easy relationship between the two men who had grown up together—leaving him to be an outsider looking in—he was still grateful to have a second leopard to help instruct him. Neither had ever said he would feel like this—complete meltdown.
He admired Drake’s strength. The leopard was every bit a part of them as breathing was, yet Drake couldn’t shift. He’d taken a bullet that had shattered his leg, and the metal plate holding him together prevented him from shifting. Something had to be done about that soon. Drake couldn’t live without his leopard forever.
“Shoot him,” Joshua implored, tearing off his jeans and kicking them away. He took two running steps and began shifting as he sprinted toward Drake and the leopard.
The leopard hit Drake with the force of a freight train, slamming into his chest and knocking him backward. Drake used the rifle to ward off the powerful cat, although it was a flimsy defense, and the raking claws streaked fire across his chest, just missing his throat.
“Jake. Fight!” He looked straight into the golden eyes.
Joshua’s leopard came in from the side. Jake leapt, spinning in midair to avoid the attack. His mind red with rage, the call for blood filling his thoughts, he barely heard Drake’s voice. He respected Drake. Liked him. Yet he could barely distinguish Drake from his mortal enemies.
Faced with the scent of a human male blocking his way back to his mate, with a male leopard rushing toward him and with a murderous rage in his heart, Jake tried to concentrate on Drake’s voice. He needed something to drown out the roaring of his leopard.
Joshua’s leopard leapt the remaining distance, determined to keep him off Drake. Jake spun, his flexible spine nearly folding double as he whirled to meet the new threat. The slash of the stiletto claws sent pain flashing along Jake’s thigh. For a moment his lungs burned with agony and he drew a deep, shuddering breath. Victory. Victory in pain. Pain was his life, and it steadied him as nothing else could have.
He took hold of his snarling leopard and forced his iron will on the cat. Murmuring soothing words, he promised they’d have their mate soon. He backed the snarling cat up, inch by inch. His leopard fought him every step of the way, instincts warring with his human mind. Jake was strong—stronger than the leopard when it came to his determination—and the leopard abruptly gave in, spinning around and running into the trees.
The leopard ran, putting on a burst of speed to take him deep into the woods. The need for his mate bordered on desperation, and Jake wanted the leopard as far from the ranch and Emma as possible. He had no idea what was happening to him as a leopard—or as a man—but he had to learn to control it before he could possibly make any demands on Emma.
The wind rose and howled through the trees, warning of a coming storm. Darkness spread and with it came the rain. The drops poured down as if the very skies wept for him, wept with him for the vicious cruelty running in his veins. The large pads allowed him to be silent as he moved fast, going deeper into the protection of the woods, trying to outrun himself and his ugly, brutal nature. He had feared his entire life that he would be like them—the enemies—and a part of him had tried to convince himself it wasn’t so, but the way his body and his mind burned obsessively for Emma, the way he reacted each time he saw her, the violent emotions swirling in his belly all told a different story.
The leopard turned his face up to the rain and wind, allowing it to sweep over him, hoping it would cleanse him. The storm increased in strength, the wind whipping through the trees, bending samplings, tearing off leaves and cracking smaller boughs so that debris rained down on him. The wind on his fur felt right, the storm adding to the leopard’s edgy mood. He was free. He could lose himself here, where the trees and the water drowned out the noise of the city. Where no one could stop him from taking his prey as he was meant to do. There was music in the wind and leaves, kinship with the animals and birds. He belonged somewhere. He ran free, going for miles even when his heart felt as though it was bursting and his breath came in great puffs of vapor.
He came to a swollen stream and plunged in without hesitation, uncaring that the current caught at him, buffeting the large cat and sweeping him down toward a bend. Branches hit him hard, rolling him under, and he came up snarling and spitting, using his heavy, roped muscles to power him to the edge where he could drag himself onto land.
He stood, head down, sides heaving, fighting for breath, fighting himself. What the hell was he doing? He had set himself on a course of revenge and somewhere along the line that course had altered. He didn’t understand emotion and he didn’t trust it. His emotions were too violent, too intense, and he was too capable of hurting others.
The pain from the claw rakes on his side reminded him of every single victory of his childhood, every time he exerted control, every time he built his determination to survive and grow strong. The leopard lay down under a large tree, the umbrella of leaves and branches swaying wildly with the turbulent wind, allowing the rain to continually pour down on him, cooling the heat of his body and the wildness of his mind.
Drake had been with him for two years. Joshua had followed, leaving the rain forest to try a different life. He was more easygoing than Drake, laughed more, but behind his green eyes were dark shadows. Jake hadn’t pried when Joshua had asked for a job. Jake knew he was leopard, a friend of Drake’s, and although a part of him was envious at the easy relationship between the two men who had grown up together—leaving him to be an outsider looking in—he was still grateful to have a second leopard to help instruct him. Neither had ever said he would feel like this—complete meltdown.
He admired Drake’s strength. The leopard was every bit a part of them as breathing was, yet Drake couldn’t shift. He’d taken a bullet that had shattered his leg, and the metal plate holding him together prevented him from shifting. Something had to be done about that soon. Drake couldn’t live without his leopard forever.
