Wild Fire
Page 23
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“A sprain, I think. The rest of me, just the shock, jamming everything as I landed. I was lucky.” She remembered to whisper the words, using a thread of sound that his acute hearing could easily pick up.
Her body was tuning itself once again to the rhythm of the rain forest. She heard the rustling in the underbrush and knew it was a man, not an animal, brushing against leaves quite close to them. Too close. She smelled sweat and fear and rot. Her eyes met Conner’s. There it was again, that implacable, ruthless, dangerous look that meant she was safe. He put his finger to his lips and indicated for her to move back into the cover of the brush. She used her toes and elbows to slide on her belly, easing her way over the thick carpet of decayed leaves until the broader, thick leaves of the bushes provided a screen for her.
All the while she scooted back, Conner held his ground, shielding her with his body. He made it difficult to despise him totally when he continually put himself in danger to protect her. And she wanted—needed—to despise him. She had to stay alert to keep from falling under his spell. Out in the forest where a higher law prevailed, life seemed very black and white.
Only when she was safely under cover did Conner begin to move. The gun was always ready, his gaze restlessly examining every inch of their surroundings, missing nothing. He slowly drew back into the brush to lie beside her. With infinite patience he pushed the gun into her hands, settling her finger on the trigger and cautioning her again to silence. His hand, almost in slow motion, went to the small daggerlike pieces of metal in the loops of his belt. He palmed two of them without a sound.
She’d never really noticed them, so small and harmless-looking, but she saw, before his fingers concealed them, that they were lethal stiletto-like daggers. An assassin’s weapon. She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering how she’d ever gotten to this place with this man. He touched the back of her hand and waited until she dared to look at him again. He winked and just like that the tension eased.
Night descended fast in the rain forest and, although she was used to camping for long periods of time while she worked, she was used to being safely off the ground and out of the way of the millions of insects that turned the forest floor into a living carpet. She could feel bugs moving over her skin and might have tried to move in order to dislodge them, had Conner not touched her hand and given her that slow, sexy wink.
Isabeau’s breath caught in her throat and she froze as two huge boots stepped inches from her head. Conner never moved. He lay beside her, his breath even and silent, but she could feel the tension coiling in his body, the bunching of his muscles as he gathered himself, preparing for the spring. The man crouched down and began to inch his way through the brush. Steam rose from the ground, surrounding his boots and calves with every step he took.
The sight should have struck fear into her heart, but Conner was too solid next to her, too much of a hunter, his eyes fixed on his prey, unblinking, like the eyes of a leopard. His eyes blazed, the amber darkening to yellow-green, smoldering with tension, with fire, but mostly with a cunning intelligence. His gaze was penetrating and she couldn’t take her eyes from his face, not even to see where the man creeping through the forest was headed.
Isabeau heard her heart pound, but Conner never moved, using all the natural patience of a leopard, completely motionless as the man turned his back and took several steps away from them, alerting to a soft noise just ahead. Her breath stilled in her lungs as she caught Adan’s scent. He was close and the man hiding in the brush heard him.
Conner slid forward, a slow, belly-to-ground stalk, propelling himself forward inch by inch. He crawled and froze, using the meager cover to inch within a foot of his prey. The closer he approached, the slower he moved, continuing the freeze-frame stalk until he was nearly on the man. Once locked on, his dilated gaze never moved from his intended target. He exploded off the ground, leaping on his prey, the two daggers grabbing, holding and puncturing. He held his prey easily with his great strength, while the large man resisted, trying to fight back, dropping his weapon in the process, unable to cry out.
Isabeau tried to look away, but the sight of the life- and-death struggle mesmerized her. Mostly she looked at Conner’s face. His expression never changed. His eyes looked savage, that strange burning gold now, but his face was a mask of implacable resolve. She couldn’t imagine him defeated by anything. He seemed invincible. He looked ruthless. Deadly. And God help her, she was drawn 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 body was tuning itself once again to the rhythm of the rain forest. She heard the rustling in the underbrush and knew it was a man, not an animal, brushing against leaves quite close to them. Too close. She smelled sweat and fear and rot. Her eyes met Conner’s. There it was again, that implacable, ruthless, dangerous look that meant she was safe. He put his finger to his lips and indicated for her to move back into the cover of the brush. She used her toes and elbows to slide on her belly, easing her way over the thick carpet of decayed leaves until the broader, thick leaves of the bushes provided a screen for her.
All the while she scooted back, Conner held his ground, shielding her with his body. He made it difficult to despise him totally when he continually put himself in danger to protect her. And she wanted—needed—to despise him. She had to stay alert to keep from falling under his spell. Out in the forest where a higher law prevailed, life seemed very black and white.
Only when she was safely under cover did Conner begin to move. The gun was always ready, his gaze restlessly examining every inch of their surroundings, missing nothing. He slowly drew back into the brush to lie beside her. With infinite patience he pushed the gun into her hands, settling her finger on the trigger and cautioning her again to silence. His hand, almost in slow motion, went to the small daggerlike pieces of metal in the loops of his belt. He palmed two of them without a sound.
She’d never really noticed them, so small and harmless-looking, but she saw, before his fingers concealed them, that they were lethal stiletto-like daggers. An assassin’s weapon. She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering how she’d ever gotten to this place with this man. He touched the back of her hand and waited until she dared to look at him again. He winked and just like that the tension eased.
Night descended fast in the rain forest and, although she was used to camping for long periods of time while she worked, she was used to being safely off the ground and out of the way of the millions of insects that turned the forest floor into a living carpet. She could feel bugs moving over her skin and might have tried to move in order to dislodge them, had Conner not touched her hand and given her that slow, sexy wink.
Isabeau’s breath caught in her throat and she froze as two huge boots stepped inches from her head. Conner never moved. He lay beside her, his breath even and silent, but she could feel the tension coiling in his body, the bunching of his muscles as he gathered himself, preparing for the spring. The man crouched down and began to inch his way through the brush. Steam rose from the ground, surrounding his boots and calves with every step he took.
The sight should have struck fear into her heart, but Conner was too solid next to her, too much of a hunter, his eyes fixed on his prey, unblinking, like the eyes of a leopard. His eyes blazed, the amber darkening to yellow-green, smoldering with tension, with fire, but mostly with a cunning intelligence. His gaze was penetrating and she couldn’t take her eyes from his face, not even to see where the man creeping through the forest was headed.
Isabeau heard her heart pound, but Conner never moved, using all the natural patience of a leopard, completely motionless as the man turned his back and took several steps away from them, alerting to a soft noise just ahead. Her breath stilled in her lungs as she caught Adan’s scent. He was close and the man hiding in the brush heard him.
Conner slid forward, a slow, belly-to-ground stalk, propelling himself forward inch by inch. He crawled and froze, using the meager cover to inch within a foot of his prey. The closer he approached, the slower he moved, continuing the freeze-frame stalk until he was nearly on the man. Once locked on, his dilated gaze never moved from his intended target. He exploded off the ground, leaping on his prey, the two daggers grabbing, holding and puncturing. He held his prey easily with his great strength, while the large man resisted, trying to fight back, dropping his weapon in the process, unable to cry out.
Isabeau tried to look away, but the sight of the life- and-death struggle mesmerized her. Mostly she looked at Conner’s face. His expression never changed. His eyes looked savage, that strange burning gold now, but his face was a mask of implacable resolve. She couldn’t imagine him defeated by anything. He seemed invincible. He looked ruthless. Deadly. And God help her, she was drawn 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.
