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Chapters (28)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for the novels ofCHRISTINE FEEHAN
  3. Titles by Christine Feehan
  4. WILD RAIN
  5. Copyright
  6. Dedication
  7. CONTENTS
  8. Acknowledgments
  9. 1
  10. 2
  11. 3
  12. 4
  13. 5
  14. 6
  15. 7
  16. 8
  17. 9
  18. 10
  19. 11
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20

“I’m being serious. I’m certain your parents were exactly as I am. I think the stories your mother told you were all the stories told to our children to teach them their heritage. You must have heard your father call your mother sestrilla and that’s how you knew the meaning of the word. The language is ancient and used only by our people, but it is universal to all of us no matter what part of the world we reside in. So even if your parents were born and raised in South America as I suspect, your father would have called your mother that at some time.”

“I can’t remember my father. I was very young when he died.”

“Do you have memories of the rain forest?”

“Dreams, not memories.”

“The humidity doesn’t bother you and the mosquitoes don’t go near you. You aren’t afraid in the silences or the stillness. Hell, Rachael, I walked in here as the leopard and you didn’t even flinch.”

“I flinched. There was definite flinching. You’re darned lucky I didn’t die of sheer fright.”

“You were petting the leopard. You couldn’t have been that afraid.”

“The soup is beginning to boil.” She made a face at his back. Maybe she hadn’t been as afraid of the leopard as she should have been. “Who wouldn’t pet a leopard given the chance? It was a perfectly natural thing to do. I considered fainting, but I’m not very good at it so I thought I’d make the most of the opportunity. And,” she continued before he could interrupt, “you have two leopards for pets, who knows if the big guy was part of the family. He walked in like he owned the place.”

He grinned at her. “I do.”

“Well, I’m not in heat.” She tried not to smile back at him. It was difficult when he was standing there, leaning one hip lazily against the sink and looking incredibly sexy.

“A man can always hope.”

She managed an elegant sniff of indignation, taking the mug of soup he handed to her. “How long before the hit man comes back?” It was a much safer subject.

“He could be holed up a couple of miles from here. It depends on how badly injured he was. He was moving fast and thinking the entire time.”

“Which means it wasn’t that bad.”

“That would be my guess. Franz is scouting and I’ve sent out a couple of other friends, not human in case you were wondering. They’ll raise the alarm if he shows himself within a couple of mile radius. If he’s smart, he’s laying low waiting for us to settle down.”