Ottila rolled, desperate to remove him from his back, desperate to get away from those wicked teeth and razor-sharp claws. He smashed Conner into the ground, deliberately landing hard on Conner’s injured hindquarters, but the golden leopard refused to be dislodged. Like a demon, he hung on, slowly moving up the back, until those terrible teeth closed around the nape of his neck in a punishing bite.

The canine teeth sank deep, seeking to separate the spinal cord. Ottila tried to flip, fear suddenly filling him. He actually felt the sudden, spreading paralysis, his legs stiffening, his body going limp. The leopard held him for a long moment until Ottila’s eyes glazed over and the air left the lungs. He held him even longer, waiting until he was certain the heart had ceased beating.

It was almost too much effort to release the leopard from his grasp. Conner collapsed on top of him, bleeding from too many places to count. He knew he had to get back to Rio, but he didn’t have any energy left. He could only lie over the other leopard, his body consumed with such pain it was impossible to tell what part of him hurt the worst. It took minutes—or hours—he didn’t know which, to gather enough strength to begin what seemed like a mile long journey of dragging himself across the ground to Rio’s side.

Rio raised his head slightly and sent Conner a sickly grin. “Don’t you look a sight?”

Conner grimaced. He had to shift and it was going to hurt like hell. He couldn’t chance being caught as a leopard, not if they were to call in help in the form of a helicopter. And both of them needed medical care. He didn’t wait, didn’t dwell on it—he simply willed the change. Pain crashed through his body, his vision went red, then dark. His stomach lurched and nothing seemed to work. He found himself sprawled facedown in the rotting vegetation and wondered if the insects would eat him alive.

He woke up sometime later. Time had to have passed, as the smoke had dissipated near the ground, although the smell of the recent fire was strong, and clouds of it still hung in the trees. Something moved close to him and he managed to turn his head toward the rustling leaves. Rio pushed a canteen of water into his hands.

“Drink. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

His vision was blurry. Everything hurt. Everything. There didn’t seem to be a place on his body that wasn’t slashed to ribbons. “Do I have any skin left?”

“Not much. I don’t think you’re going to be such a pretty boy anymore,” Rio cheerfully informed him. “The bastard did some real damage.”

Conner peered at him through bloodshot eyes. “I was never a pretty boy.”