[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
played like a movie in his head. Her voice. Soft and sultry and sinfully tempting.
Emotion choked him. He didn't know what he felt, only that it was all-encompassing. "Did I say that?"
The cloth moved over the swell of her breast, lingered in the valley and slipped along the soft underside.
"I surprise myself sometimes. It sounds like a very good idea."
"When I look at you, there's a light surrounding you." Her expression was mischievous, teasing. "I'd say a
halo, but certain parts of your anatomy seem to be keeping you from sainthood."
"Or elevating me to that status." He had no idea where the words came from, or that teasing, familiar
tone. He was always gruff and surly with strangers, yet Rachael didn't feel like a stranger to him. He
dipped the cloth in the bowl Of water and allowed it to trace the soft swell of her breast. Even that felt
familiar to him. He knew her body intimately. He knew there would be a small birthmark right above her
buttocks on the left side if he turned her over. He knew the feel of dipping his tongue into her enticing
belly button and making a slow foray lower. He knew exactly what she would taste like. It was in his
mouth, a honeyed spicy tang that always left him craving more.
"Do you know me, Rachael?" He leaned close, his gaze capturing hers. "When you look at me, do you
know me?" She flung out her hand so that her fingertips rested ultimately on his bare thigh. "Why do you
ask me that? Of course I know you. I love just lying in bed with you, your arms around me, listening to
the rain. Listening to the sound of your voice and the stories you tell" Her smile was far away, dreamy.
"It's always been my favorite thing to do."
She was burning up with fever. Her body was so hot to his touch he was afraid the cloth was going to
burst into flames. He bathed her wrists and the back of her neck, beginning to feel desperate. The wind
cooled the room but her body was flushed a bright red. Her leg was a mess, swollen and infected, blood
oozing from the wound. His stomach lurched.
"Rachael." He said her name in despair. Her palm was burning a hole through his skin where it rested.
"You're afraid for me."
"Yes," he answered honestly. Because he was. For both of them. He was as confused as she was.
Abruptly he rose and prowled across the room to stand in the open door. The wind was dying down, a
lull before the next wave hit. He was moody and restless and uncomfortable in his own home. The forest
beckoned, the treetops swaying, leaves nearly silver as they rustled all around him with their own strange
melody. He found the sound soothing in the midst of his uncertainty.
Rio knew Rachael intimately, yet he'd never laid eyes on her. Certain things were familiar, more than
familiar, nearly a part of him, like breathing. He pushed a hand through his hair, needing the peace of the
jungle.
Rachael's gaze followed him wherever he went. "Look." He didn't turn around, didn't want to meet the
blatant appreciation in her gaze when she looked at him. He didn't like the fact that the heat between
them was a tangible thing when she was so obviously ill.
"I am looking." She sounded amused and for some rea-. son, his stomach did that idiotic flipping thing he
knew to associate with her.
"Go to sleep, Rachael," he ordered sternly. " I'm going to try the radio again, see if I can get you some
help. I may be able to pack you out of here to an open area where we can bring in a chopper to take you
to the hospital."
Rachael frowned, shook her head in obvious alarm. "No, don't do that. I'll stay here with you."
"You don't understand. You could lose your leg. I don't have the proper medicine or the skill you need.
As it is, you're going to have a mass of scars and that's if I manage to save it."
She continued to shake her head, her bright eyes pleading with him silently. His gut tightened. Abruptly,
he stepped outside into the night, dragging air into his lungs. She was tying him up in knots. He didn't
know why. Didn't understand it. Didn't like it or want it. He didn't know who she was or where she came
from. He didn't need the complication or the danger.
"Damn woman," he muttered as he stretched his arms up to the driving rain. The drops fell on his hot
skin, cool and tantalizing. His veins sizzled with life, thrummed with need. Even away from her, he felt her
presence.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
He was not wholly human, nor was he leopard. He was a separate species with characteristics of both.
And he was dangerous; capable of killing, capable of great jealousy and outbursts of temper. The animal
in him often dominated his thinking, a cunning, intelligent creature, but very flawed. He needed to be
alone, a secretive solitary being by choice. Few things touched him in his carefully guarded world. There
was something about Rachael that made him restless. Moody. Fear shimmered in him, blurred the edges
of his control. "Damn woman," he repeated.
He stretched again, wanting the freedom of the change. Wanting to go out into the night and simply
disappear. The wildness rose in him like a gift, spreading so that his skin itched and his claws lengthened.
He felt the muscles running like steel through his body. He smelled the feral scent of the cat, reached for
it, embraced it. An extraordinary means of leaving behind Rio Santana and all that he was, all that he had
done. Fur rippled over his body. His muscles contorted; bones cracked as his spine became supple,
flexible, as his body took the form of the leopard.
The leopard raised its head and scented the night. Inhaled the smell of the woman. It should have
repulsed him, yet it drew him, just as strongly as in his human form. The cat switched the tip of its tail,
padded around the verandah beneath the windows, and then leapt to a neighboring tree branch. In spite
of the pouring rain, the leopard ran easily along the network of branches, a highway above the forest
floor. The wind ruffled his fur and blew in his face but it couldn't rid him of the woman's enticing scent.
Every step he took away from her brought uneasiness.
The leopard gave a soft grunting cough of protest, followed it with a sawing roar of temper. She would
not leave him alone. Everywhere he went, she went with him. In his mind. In his churning belly. In his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]