He knew being leopard mates played a huge part in the physical draw between them, but he loved her. The man and leopard both loved her. There was no one else for either of them and there never would be. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of her laughter. That little note in her voice had always managed to arouse him and soothe the beast in him at the same time. There were so many facets to her, so many intriguing parts to her character. He loved everything about her, everything from her generous heart to her nasty temper.

“Conner?” Isabeau called down to him. “Come and eat.”

He looked up because he couldn’t stop himself. One hand was wrapped around the post as she peered down at him. Her waist-length hair was unbound, flowing a little with the meager breeze moving through the canopy. Her jeans and tee emphasized the lush curves of her body, and he felt his cat purr low in his throat at the sight of her.

“I’ll be right up. I’m going to poke around a little, see what turns up.”

She put her hand on her hip, drawing his attention to the fact that she wasn’t using her injured arm. “Nothing’s out there, Conner. No one would ever find this cabin unless they knew where to look. There are enough cats here to smell anything within miles. Just come up and eat.”

It wasn’t so much her words as her tone that had him moving fast over the rotting vegetation to grasp the vine. In the midst of all the men, she was nervous without him there. And any way he looked at it, that was a good sign. He went up fast, hand over hand, using his leopard’s enormous strength to pull himself up to the porch. He dragged up the ladder after him so that there were no signs to give them away. Even if someone found the small makeshift shower, it was ice cold and no more than a crude but effective rain carved out of a sparse waterfall rushing down the slope.

He straightened slowly and drank her in. She stood, a little hesitant, but she didn’t retreat. She was waiting for him. He watched her inhale deeply, and involuntarily draw his scent into her lungs. His body tightened in reaction. He supposed he’d have to get used to the relentless ache. His gaze dwelt on the puncture marks on her neck; satisfaction welled up that he’d given the kid enough of a beating that he’d feel it for days. She looked a little bruised and battered, but beautiful, with her exotic looks and cat’s eyes.

Isabeau blushed. “You’re looking at me that way again.”

“What way?”

“Like you’re about to pounce on me any moment. I’m looking for a little comfort, not an ambush of some sort.”