Savage Nature (13 page)

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Authors: Christine Feehan

Tags: #Louisiana, #Bayous, #Nannies, #Fantasy fiction, #Paranormal Romance Stories, #Romance, #General, #Leopard Men, #Bayous - Louisiana, #Paranormal, #Shapeshifting, #Fantasy, #Rich people, #Fiction

BOOK: Savage Nature
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Her pulse pounded in her head—and throbbed between her legs. She felt hot and needy and restless. She didn’t know if she wanted to leap on him and ravage him, or claw at him. All she knew was her body crawled with need for him. The other leopard—the one he claimed had marked her—hadn’t left such a need behind, but Drake with his soft kisses had infected her with a violent ache that she doubted would ever go away.

“What’s happenin’ to me?” It was frightening to feel so out of control. Saria had directed her entire life and now she felt as if she couldn’t even take command of her own body.

Drake rubbed his hand over his face. “It’s called the Han Vol Dan. When a female leopard begins to go into heat in the same cycle with her human, she will emerge for the first time. The two become one. You are both leopard and human.”

“In
heat
?” Saria couldn’t control the violent blush stealing up her neck into her face. She felt in heat. She wanted him—
craved
him. She . . .
needed.
Drake was in grave danger of being jumped if he stayed there looking like a sex god. “Like an animal? You’re sayin’ I have a female leopard livin’ inside of me and she wants . . .”

“A mate,” he finished for her.

She wanted to deny it, but she felt wild, uninhibited. Needy. Hot. Her skin felt too tight and her breasts ached. She hated the feel of clothes on the body and it was all she could do not to pull the T-shirt off—away from her skin. She had a terrible desire to crawl across the floor to Drake and rip his trousers from his body. Her fingers curled in the comforter, holding tight to keep herself in place. She knew she was squirming, but she couldn’t sit still, not with the growing fire between her legs. Her breath came in ragged gasps. She didn’t know whether to weep—or beg.

“I can’t think,” she whispered desperately. “My blood is roarin’ in my head.” The plea in her voice was unintentional, but she heard it and she saw the effect it had on him.

Drake appeared shaken. Her gaze was drawn to the large, thick bulge in the front of his cotton pants. Her mouth went dry and she shifted her weight before she could stop herself, sliding sensuously out from under the thin comforter.

He held up a hand, palm out and stepped back into the cool rain. “Baby, you have to stop right there. I want you more than you can imagine and I’m no saint. We’re going to have to ride this out together.”

That was
exactly
what she had in mind. She licked her lips, images rising of sliding all that soft cotton right off his hips. She wasn’t certain her shaky legs could support her and she slipped to the floor, arching her back in a long luxurious stretch.

Drake groaned, the sound husky, sexy, a despairing note that sent fingers of arousal teasing up her thighs. Her temperature soared until it felt as if she had a fire burning out of control between her legs. She couldn’t stop moving, her body undulating erotically as she stalked him across the floor like the leopard he’d named her.

“Damn it, Saria, you’ll hate me in the morning. Breathe through this, it will pass. You have to take control of her. If you touch me, I won’t be able to stop myself. You have no idea what happens to a male when his woman is close to the Han Vol Dan. I’m on a thin edge, baby. Try for me. Saria, please, honey, just try for me.”

The pleading in his voice was both an aphrodisiac and a red light. She loved that she made his body hard and that he was nearly as out of control as she was. His eyes had gone gold, that shimmering, priceless gold she couldn’t resist, but he’d called her his woman. She was
his.
She wanted to be his. She wanted him to bite her shoulder and claim her, not some horrible bastard who cared nothing for her feelings. Drake shook with the effort to hold himself back—for her. She could easily see his concern for her. Few people ever seemed to genuinely worry about her.

She took a deep breath, her head hanging low while her hips pushed up and back, the need so terrible she felt tears running down her face, but she managed to stay right where she was, only feet from him. She could smell his wild scent with every breath she drew into her body. She could taste him in her mouth, an addicting, feral tang she began to crave.

“I want you to claim me.” There was sheer seduction in her voice, a husky, desperate pleading that came out more of a wanton purr. “Like he did. Mark me like he did. I don’ want his scent on me. I want yours on me . . .” She raised her eyes to his. Her vision seemed strange, banding with colors. “I want yours
in
me.”

“Baby, you’re killing me,” Drake whispered.

His eyes were completely gold, watching her with a heavy-lidded dark sexual intent. Sensuality was stamped in his tough features, on his mouth. Her body inched forward toward him of its own accord and his hand dropped low, to absently stroke that hard bulge. The sight of him, so darkly erotic, sent another wave of fire crashing through her body.

She forced herself to stop again, dragging in air, the sound harsh and ragged. “I’ll try if you promise to do it—to mark me as yours.”

A sound escaped his throat, half growl, half groan. “Your leopard will settle soon. If you still want me to do it after she retreats, I will. But it has to be your decision when you’re not in the midst of a thrall. You have to want
me,
not just any male because your leopard is out of control.”

She reveled in the hoarseness of his voice. He was suffering just as she was. She could see his need burning just as deep as her own. Tears clogged her throat. She had to find the strength to resist the need to desperately plead with him to take her. It was humiliating to know he was turning her down and she was shamelessly enticing him, but her body burned and throbbed until she was so edgy with need she couldn’t be still.

“Talk to me. Anything. Tell me about the leopards.” Anything to take her mind from the clawing hunger.

“We’re a species living long past our time,” he said. His voice had an edge of hoarseness to it, but he struggled to soothe her. “There are pockets of us all over the world, mostly in the rain forests. I was shocked to learn you have a lair here. I think Fenton leased his company’s land to the families to give them a place to run free and live without fear of discovery.”

She ran her hand down her aching body, trying hard to concentrate on his words when she was burning from the inside out. She knelt back onto her heels, cupping her aching breasts, her fingers pressing hard against her burning nipples.

Drake swore. There were small beads of sweat on his forehead. “Damn it, Saria. Give me something to work with here.”

He took a step toward her and she willed him to continue, to take the decision from her. She eyed him hungrily. His face was carved with sensual lines, his eyes golden and hooded, glittering with stark, raw hunger. She’d driven him beyond endurance. If she touched him, his control would be gone and he would take her just the way she craved, right there on the floor, wild and uninhibited, his body pounding into hers, relieving the terrible ache. He took another step toward her with a groan of despair.

The sound echoed loudly through her mind. Drake Donovan was a man of honor. He was trying to save her from herself. He was trying to save both of them. What the hell was she doing to him? Shocked, she pressed one hand to her mouth and held the other one up to stop him. He’d done everything but pour cold water over her.

“I can do this, Drake.” Determination crept into her voice. “Just give me a minute. Tell me how to control her.”

He took a deep breath and ran his hands up and down the strong columns of his thighs as if his skin itched, or was too tight—just as hers was.

“She is you, honey,” he explained. “You’re feeling both of your needs. It doesn’t help that I’m in the room with you. If we’re mates, as both my cat and I believe, we’ve known one another in at least one past life, and we’re familiar with each other’s body. The addiction is already there. You’re fighting all of that.”

She swallowed hard. “Step out of the room. Just for a moment. Give me a moment.”

She knew he would, although she didn’t know why she trusted him so much. Or how she could behave in such a terrible wanton fashion and still look him in the eye. She was unashamed of wanting him—just ashamed of her behavior. If he would be honorable, so could she.

Drake looked at her for a long moment, his gaze hot, revealing he was skating to the very edge of his control before he moved away from her. The tension in him was tangible, as it was in her, a torturous, skin-crawling, belly-clawing need neither could hope to ignore.

“You won’t make me dishonor him,” she hissed to the entity living inside of her. She took a deep breath and willed the female leopard to retreat. “I need time to get used to you. Give me some breathing room.”

Her skin itched and her jaw ached, but the terrible fire eased a little without Drake in such close proximity. She closed her eyes and let lust wash over her, accepting the terrible, almost violent desire rushing through her like a fireball. Her blood ran hot, and she just kept breathing to try to cool down.

It took a few more minutes of deep breathing before she dared look around her. Her vision slowly cleared. Her body trembled uncontrollably. There was no way to get to her feet, but thankfully, reason was creeping in.

Grateful, Saria crawled to the bed and pulled herself up so she could rest her stomach against the edge, lean over and lay her face against the cool comforter. She wept for a few minutes, unable to stop. Nothing in her life had prepared her for such violent need. What would have happened if she’d been with a male other than Drake and her leopard had been so needy? She couldn’t just blame it on her leopard. From the moment she’d laid eyes on Drake Donovan, she’d wanted him. She couldn’t help it—maybe because he was a handsome stranger with some undefined power clinging to him. Maybe she was just a raw country girl who had no real experience with such a man, but whatever the reason, he’d set her blood rushing hotly and her pulse pounding. That had to have added to the clawing hunger entrenched inside her.

Drake stood at the edge of the doorway, watching Saria as she leaned against the bed and wept. The T-shirt rode up over the curve of her bottom, revealing small pink-striped underwear. The material fit lovingly, showing the smooth undersides of perfectly rounded cheeks. His cock, already pulsing with urgent desire, dripped, the tightness intense. Every nerve ending seemed centered in his groin.

She was everything he’d ever dared to dream of. He wanted a woman of courage. Of passion. One who preferred the outdoors and was unafraid to be his partner. He wanted a lot of sass and a little ferocity. Saria was the embodiment of all those things. He knew she belonged to him, but she was young and inexperienced. The idea of being a shifter was new to her and the intensity of the mating cycle of their species had to be frightening.

“Saria?” Drake kept his voice gentle, tried—without much success—to keep the lust and passion from his tone. The craving for her didn’t let up, not for a second, and he knew it never would even if she rejected him.

Saria slowly turned, sliding to the floor to sit with her knees drawn up and her back to the bed. She sent him a tentative smile and his heart did that strange stuttering. He knew what courage that little smile had to have taken.

She didn’t flinch away, but looked him straight in the eye. “I think you’re safe now. I’m not goin’ to jump you.”

He gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not certain that’s good news. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life than I want you. It’s not going to go away.” He wanted her to hear the ring of truth in his voice. “I’m afraid we might be in a little trouble here, honey.” He pulled a water bottle from his pack, opened it and handed it to her.

Saria took the bottle and patted the floor beside her.

Drake hesitated, afraid of what could happen that close to her, but she didn’t drop her gaze from his and he couldn’t resist the temptation of her trust. He sank to the floor beside her and drew up his knees. Their hips and shoulders touched. One soft thigh rubbed along his as she shifted a little, taking a long drink and handing him back the bottle.

“This is goin’ to happen again?”

“Yes. And next time this will end far differently.” He set his mouth over the rim of the bottle, where hers had been. He could taste all that pent-up lust—or maybe it was his.

“How many times have you been through this with a woman?”

He frowned at her. “I’ve seen a woman go through the Han Vol Dan, and of course my leopard was affected, it sets males on edge, but she wasn’t
my
woman. I didn’t have to fight like this for control. This is . . . beyond imagining.”

“Do you want this to happen again—with me?”

He shook his head over the absurdity of the question, his gaze drifting possessively over her face. “I think of you as mine. Of course I want it to happen and if we’re together, Saria, it’s inevitable. You have to face that and I meant what I said. The next time you’re in that state, I’m going to be inside your body. Once I take you, I’m not going to stand aside, so know what you’re getting into before you make a decision.”

She reached for the water bottle, took another sip and licked her lips. Her dark eyes met his again. “Kiss me.”

He studied her face. “You like playing with fire?”

“I don’ understand. It’s a kiss.”

He took her hand and curled her palm over the large bulge in the front of his thin cotton pants. Heat spread through both of them. An electrical current surged through both of them. “It’s not just a kiss, Saria. Don’t try to fool yourself.”

“I have to know.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “You have no sense of self-preservation. If I were any other kind of man . . .”

“But you’re not,” she pointed out.

The confidence in her voice shook him. He swore and took another cooling drink. She hadn’t removed her hand and damn him to hell, but he didn’t want her to.

He curled his fingers around the nape of her neck and tipped her face up to his as he brought his mouth down on hers. He tried to be gentle, but he didn’t feel gentle, he felt raw and desperate and she tasted like heaven. “Open your mouth.” He growled the demand.

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