Back Leopard's Prey
Chapters (28)
  1. Praise
  2. Also by Christine Feehan
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. For My Readers
  7. Acknowledgments
  8. Chapter 1
  9. Chapter 2
  10. Chapter 3
  11. Chapter 4
  12. Chapter 5
  13. Chapter 6
  14. Chapter 7
  15. Chapter 8
  16. Chapter 9
  17. Chapter 10
  18. Chapter 11
  19. Chapter 12
  20. Chapter 13
  21. Chapter 14
  22. Chapter 15
  23. Chapter 16
  24. Chapter 17
  25. Chapter 18
  26. Chapter 19
  27. Chapter 20
  28. Special Excerpt from DARK LYCAN

This was a tavern for the lawless. For clandestine meetings. He and his brother had discovered the tavern when he’d first arrived back in the Carpathian Mountains. It had been necessary to find a safe place, out of the way, where they could spend time and talk unseen by anyone who might know either of them. He wanted to make absolutely certain that his younger brother was safe. No one could know they were brothers. No one could ever associate the two of them, or he would be putting his sibling’s life on the line—something he wasn’t willing to do. So many years had passed that everyone had forgotten him, or thought him dead, and for his brother’s protection that falsehood had to remain.

He knew every face in the tavern. Most had been coming even longer than he had. The newest patron was the most suspect. He had arrived in the area only a couple of weeks earlier. He had the stocky build of a hunter—a woodsman—yet he dressed more refined. He was not someone to take lightly. Anyone could see by the way he moved that he would be good in a fight. He was definitely armed. He went by the name of Zev and was clearly new to the area. He hadn’t disclosed his business, but Fen would bet his last dollar he was hunting someone. He didn’t look like the law, but he was definitely pursuing someone. Fen hoped it wasn’t him, but if it was, he took every opportunity to study Zev, the way he moved, which hand he favored, where his weapons were carried.

Zev wore his hair longer than was common, just as Fen did. His hair was a deep chestnut color and very thick, much like a rich pelt. His eyes were gray and watchful, always moving, always restless, while his body remained quite still. Fen found it significant that no one in the bar had yet challenged him.

The wind picked up, rushing through the trees, capricious and playful, pushing branches against the sides of the tavern so that they creaked and scraped, a heralding of danger if one could read the information the wind provided. Fen let out his breath and glanced through the window into the dark forest.