Drake drove hard, slashing at the exposed belly, and when his opponent curled up to protect himself, with lightning speed he sank his teeth into the neck. The snarls and growls of those watching faded into the background. The struggle now was to keep his leopard under control. He barely noticed the claws ripping into his flesh, or the teeth sinking into his shoulder as the leopard made a desperate attempt to free itself.

He growled and shook his opponent, blood staining his muzzle and the other’s coat as he took a firmer grip on the throat.

“Submit, Dion,” a voice called out. “Use your brain. He’s goin’ to have to fight his leopard to keep from killing you. You aren’t makin’ it easier. Damn it, you submit.”

As if very far in the distance, Drake heard the human voice penetrating through the mindless fury, the demand to kill. He vaguely recognized the voice. The leopard beneath him shook with fury, raked at him again, sending a burn along his ribs. He growled deep in his throat, struggling to maintain a semblance of humanity when his leopard raged for a kill. It was his right. The opponent was in his territory. He refused to submit. Fury swept through him. He sank his teeth deeper. Using his enormous strength, he held his adversary immobile in a suffocation grip.

“Dion!” The voice rose in command and fear. “Submit now!”

The leopard beneath him suddenly went slack, the fight draining out of him, sides heaving, mouth open, eyes glazing.

“Let him go.” The voice held a note of pleading.

Drake reached for calm, fought for control of his leopard. This fight had not been about territory, not with this leopard. It was the female so close to the Han Vol Dan that had triggered the fierce fight. His opponent wanted him dead and his leopard knew it. The need to kill was a living, breathing entity and it took every ounce of discipline Drake had to fight his leopard back. Reason seemed just out of reach for several precious moments—moments while the other cat was without air.

“Robert, no!” A second voice rang out, sharp. Insistent. Commanding. “You pull that trigger and I’ll have no choice but to kill you. Back off. He’s gaining control.”

“It will be too late.”

“That was Dion’s choice.”

The voice held authority. Sorrow. The loss of a male in his prime was a blow to any lair. Drake took another firm grip and forced his leopard to back off. The cat did so reluctantly, snarling and growling every inch of the way, raking at Drake, spinning around to face the other leopards in the lair, roaring a challenge, dangerously close to a killing madness. Blood coated his sides and dripped down his flanks, matting in the thick fur, but he snarled and placed each paw carefully, watching his enemies, daring them to move.