His hand pued her head down just a little farther as she took a breath, jerking in short spurts, and then she felt his hot release pouring into her. He moaned low and long, the sound as arousing as the hard flesh jerking in the heat of her mouth. His fingernails sank into her scalp and one shoulder as he breathed hard.

“Use your tongue, baby,” he urged. “That feels so damned good.”

She lapped at him, a gentle ministry to calm them both. She was breathing nearly as hard as he was. She felt achy everywhere, almost desperate to rip off her clothes and impale herself on that thick, velvet-over-steel spike.

Drake drew her up, holding her close to him. “That was unbelievable, Saria.”

“I’m sure I’ll get better,” she said, her gaze suddenly worried.

“Better might kill me.” He brushed a kiss over her temple. “We’ll finish this at the inn in a comfortable room with a bed. Your first time should be special, honey.”

She wasn’t certain she could hold out for special, but he had a point. The swamp was no place to try to have sex. She nodded, unable to get past her own desire. She needed breathing space from him.

Drake could tell Saria was struggling and he cursed himself for allowing her to service him when he couldn’t show her what making love was. He could see she wanted to be alone and he hated that he had to comply, to just leave her after she’d given him so much pleasure.

“Will you be all right?”

“I practically live in the swamp,” she said, studying the edge of the trees. “I can take pictures while you do whatever it is leopards do.”

Uneasy, he shifted, staying close to her for a moment to rub his fur all over her, in his own way trying to reassure her before he set off. Drake searched the entire area, crisscrossing the wild terrain, using every means available to search out evidence of a leopard making a kill. He had never been so frustrated—or alarmed—in his life. There were numerous places where he scented blood and death, six to be exact, and he’d uncovered more empty bottles from the Boudreaux bar, but nowhere did he find evidence of a leopard. Not a single track. Not a scent mark. No fur.

His leopard at times was very settled and then suddenly would become so agitated Drake feared he might not be able to control him. There seemed no pattern to the sudden surge of temper as Drake picked his way through several acres. Saria was at the center of the ever-widening circle he used to hunt for evidence and he made certain he could scent her at all times.

He knew Saria couldn’t have imagined a leopard bite. It was fairly distinctive. She’d agonized over writing the letter to Jake, so there had to be truth in what she’d seen. Leopards left trails. They marked everything. Where they’d been. Territories they moved through. It was natural behavior and, although he was extremely strong and controlled, he doubted if he could stop his leopard from marking. Especially after a kill.