Christine Feehan – [Leopard 2] Wild Rain

“Good hunting, Rio. May all the magic of the forest be with you and may fortune be your companion as you travel.” The words came out of her mouth, were said in her voice, but Rachael had no real idea where they came from.

WILD RAIN

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She knew instinctively she was reciting formal ritual words, but she didn’t know what ritual or how she knew the words, only that she’d said them before.

Rachael wiped a hand over her face in an effort to wipe away things she didn’t understand. “I’ll be fine. I can handle a gun, I have before. Just be careful.”

Rio stared into her eyes for a long moment, afraid to take his gaze from her, afraid when he returned she’d be gone… or he’d find her dead, her body desperately

attempting to protect their son—–He jerked his head

back, a ferocious rage and a terrible sorrow blending together into a roiling ball of emotions impossible to understand. “Stay alive, Rachael,” he repeated abruptly. A command. A plea. He forced himself to turn away from her and slip outside.

The change was already taking place in his heart and mind, the dangerous animal in him bursting free, fur rip-‘pling along his arms and legs, his body bending, contorting, muscles stretching and lengthening. He embraced the change, his chosen way of life, accepting the power and strength of the leopard in him, allowing it free rein there in the security of his territory. Rio stretched his arms, fingers splayed wide as his knuckles curved and claws scraped the floor of the verandah, then retracted.

The leopard was large. It sat in absolute stillness, head lifted to scent the wind. The many whiskers acted like radar, picking up every detail of the world around him. Ropes of muscle rippled with power and strength as the animal crouched and leapt for a large branch that curved upward and away from the house. The animal moved with the wind, high under cover of the canopy. Once the leopard looked back toward the house, noted the many streamers of creeper vines and the large lacy foliage that shielded the house from prying eyes. In the darkness, it would be nearly impossible to spot unless one knew of its existence.

The forest was alive with information, from the hum of insects and the warning cry of a bird. Rio moved quickly

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Christine Feehan

and silently along the wide branches, staying low, claws digging into wood as he climbed, retracting as he padded through foliage, careful not to disturb the leaves. The smaller of the two clouded leopards emerged from the heavy mist, lips drawn back in a snarl. Rio went perfectly still, crouching low, his head lifted to scent the wind.

The intruder was not human. At once the fierce temper of the leopard rose and spread with the violence of a volcano. Rio accepted the rage and ferocity, channeled it deep in the heart of the beast. He moved with greater caution, knowing he was being stalked, knowing one of his own kind had chosen to betray him. His lip lifted in a silent snarl, revealing large canines. Ears flat, the leopard began a slow freeze-frame stalk through the lush vegetation high above the forest floor. The wind carried the scent of his treacherous rival, pinpointing the location only yards from Rio.

Rio crept across a large branch far above the spotted leopard. It was male and large. The animal swung its head alertly, looking suspiciously into the tree where Rio crouched motionless. At once, Franz, concealed some distance away in heavy shrubbery, deliberately stepped on a small twig, snapping it in half. The sound was loud in the silence of the forest.

The spotted leopard stilled, sank down, staring alertly in the direction of the smaller clouded leopard. Rio took the opportunity to move closer, a silent, stealthy approach. Franz had risked his life. The larger leopard would kill him easily should it find the clouded leopard. And the larger, spotted leopard was definitely in hunting mode.

Rio moved like fluid over the tree branch, sprang silently to the branch below him, froze when the spotted leopard lifted its head to scent the wind. Fritz, several hundred yards farther from Franz, let out a low moaning cry that was carried on the wind through the interior of the forest. The spotted leopard crouched low, drawing back its lips, ears flat and tail low, in position for an attack, staring intently toward the sound.

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