“They don’t work so well on me,” she said, attempting a small smile.

He was grateful for that little smile. She was comforting him, and that turned him inside out . He could tell it bothered her that his usual calm was gone on her behalf. She was having a hard enough time keeping him at arm’s length, and having his cat and the man be so agitated over her injuries and the threat to her was disturbing.

“We’ve got to go,” Rio said. He was in the forest, out of Isabeau’s sight.

Conner knew it wasn’t modesty. Leopards weren’t modest about nudity. When they shifted, they generally carried or cached clothes in the areas they lived, but they often shifted in front of one another. Rio was more concerned for Isabeau, who wasn’t raised leopard, and for Conner’s reaction. Isabeau was near the Han Vol Dan, the emerging of her leopard and her leopard’s heat. She was putting out enough hormones to rock all the males, mated or not. He wasn’t taking a chance of Conner getting more aggressive.

“We’ve taken care of most of them, and the others have turned tail and run, but they might suddenly get their courage back. Let’s get to shelter.”

“What about me?” the young leopard asked.

There was silence. Conner looked over the top of Isabeau’s head at the young man. He’d been like that once, looking for adventure and something besides the village.

“You’ll be coming with us. I have a few things to say to you.”

The kid put his arms down as he let out his breath in obvious relief.

“Don’t look happy about it, kid,” Conner snapped. “I’m going to beat the hell out of you.”

“Jeremiah. My name’s Jeremiah Wheating.” He flexed his claws and grinned at Conner. Now that he was safe, he was back to looking cocky. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Conner had the urge to cuff the kid. Seriously smack him. His mate was still bleeding and the kid was looking like he was full of himself all over again. He turned away from the young leopard to keep from springing on him and ripping the smirk from his face. With gentle hands, he wrapped up Isabeau’s arm and, because he couldn’t help himself, he pressed a kiss over the bandage, uncaring what she—or any of the others—thought.

“Let’s move out. Adan? You all right?”

“Still deciding whether or not to shoot our young friend,” Adan answered from where he was hiding in the brush. “It’s more tempting than you could possibly know.”

“Oh, I think I have some idea,” Conner said. He slid his hand down Isabeau’s arm until his fingers tangled with hers. “Let’s get moving.”

“Where are we going?” the kid asked eagerly. He nearly bounced as he hurried after them.