He didn’t like leaving her, but the enemy was too close and Elijah couldn’t get to him before the man would discover them. Their adversary was moving closer, the tread of his boots loud in the night. Conner let his lips drift over her ear and into her hair, savoring her for just one moment before he moved away to intercept. He didn’t look back, but he listened. There was no rustle of clothing, no sound to indicate she’d moved, yet she must have been a little afraid left by herself deep in the rain forest with a leopard close by and men with guns hunting anyone human.

Pride stirred in him as he slipped close to the enemy. He crept close enough to reach out and touch the man. Dressed in combat gear, crouched low, his automatic rifle cradled in his hands, the man’s face was grim and businesslike. Conner caught the scent of fear as the head swiveled back and forth.

“Jeff,” he hissed. “It’s Bart. Answer me.”

Conner could have told him that a leopard had killed Jeff just a few feet away, but there was no point. Instead, he slipped out of the heavier brush into the open, directly behind Bart. As he reached for him, he heard a soft movement near Isabeau. She gasped, the sound audible in the night. Bart whirled toward that slight noise. His eyes widened as he saw the dark shadow inches from him. His mouth opened, no sound emerging as he brought the gun around, finger on the trigger, already firing as he tried to line up the gun with Conner’s chest. The muzzle blazed blue-white. Behind and around Conner, bark and leaves flew into the air.

Isabeau cried out, a choking cry of pain, and he scented blood. His cat went insane, snarling and raging even as he caught Imelda’s soldier by the throat, claws bursting through his fingertips. The man’s screams were cut off abruptly to a small gurgle. Conner threw him aside and spun around, rushing back through the thick brush to Isabeau.

He skidded to a halt just before he came through the brush out into the open. The scent of a male leopard mixed with man was heavy and mingled with blood—Isabeau’s blood. She was breathing. He could hear her, the air rushing in and out of her lungs, ragged and harsh. He felt her pain, knew she was hurt and his cat grew frantic. The scent of the other male inflamed the leopard even more, so that he clawed close to the surface, demanding to be let loose.