New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan has over 30 novels published and has thrilled legions of fans with her seductive and sensual ‘Dark’ Carpathian tales. She has received numerous honours throughout her career including being a nominee for the Romance Writers of America RITA, and receiving a Career Achievement Award from Romantic Times, and has been published in multiple languages and in many formats, including audio book, e-book, and large print.

For more information about Christine Feehan visit her website: www.christinefeehan.com

Also in Christine Feehan’s Leopard People series:

Burning Wild

Also by Christine Feehan

‘Dark’ Carpathian Series:

Dark Prince
Dark Desire
Dark Gold
Dark Magic
Dark Challenge
Dark Fire
Dark Legend
Dark Guardian
Dark Symphony
Dark Melody
Dark Destiny
Dark Secret
Dark Demon
Dark Celebration
Dark Possession
Dark Curse

GhostWalker Series:
Shadow Game
Mind Game
Night Game
Conspiracy Game
Deadly Game
Predatory Game
Murder Game

Drake Sisters Series:
Oceans of Fire
Dangerous Tides
Safe Harbour
Turbulent Sea
Hidden Currents

Fever

CHRISTINE FEEHAN

Hachette Digital

www.littlebrown.co.uk

COPYRIGHT

Published by Piatkus

ISBN: 978-0-7481-1280-7

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2005 by Christine Feehan

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.

The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

Piatkus
Little, Brown Book Group
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London, EC4Y 0DZ

www.littlebrown.co.uk
www.hachette.co.uk

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks to a wonderful writer, Lisa Cach, for helping me with research and to Brian Feehan for always being so willing to discuss fight scenes in the rain forest!

For my son, Mark,
a clever man to provide me with my beautiful
granddaughter Erin
and my wonderful grandson James.

THE AWAKENING

1

The warm wind gently carried the message through the lush vegetation of the rain forest, traveled high into the dense canopy that shrouded the jungle in mystery. Wild honeybees built combs just beneath the crown, out of reach of most of the animals. If they heard the wind whispering, they ignored the tales and went about their business. Birds of every kind, parrots clothed in a riot of color, helmeted hornbills and falcons, picked up the gossip and conveyed it swiftly on bright wings, shrieking with delight throughout the forest. Noisy troops of long-tailed macaques, gibbons, and leaf-eating monkeys heard and leapt from branch to branch joyfully, shouting with anticipation. The orangutans moved cautiously through the trees in search of ripe fruit, edible leaves, and flowers, maintaining dignity in all the fuss. Before long, the news was everywhere. There were few secrets in the community and everyone had been waiting with concern.

He heard the news long before her scent reached him. Brandt Talbot shrank into the heavy vegetation, his chest tight and his body taut with sudden anticipation. She was here at long last. In his domain. Within his grasp. It had been a long hunt to find her, nearly impossible, yet he had managed it. He had deliberately lured her to his lair and she had come. He was so close, he had to use iron self-control to keep from moving too quickly. He couldn’t spook her, couldn’t tip his hand, allow her to realize for one moment that the net was closing around her. It was essential to close every avenue, drive her to the center of his domain, and cut off each escape route.

His strategy had been planned for years. He had had time to plan while he searched the world for her, while he reviewed every document in his hunt for his prey. When he was certain he had the right woman, the one woman, he put his plan into action using his lawyer to draw her into the rain forest, into his territory.

He moved swiftly through the thick fauna, silently but quickly, effortlessly leaping over fallen trees as he made his way toward the outer edges of the jungle. A rhinoceros grunted nearby. Deer scrambled in fear as they caught his scent. Smaller animals scurried out of his way and birds fell quiet at his approach. The monkeys retreated to the higher reaches of the canopy but they, too, remained hushed, not daring to raise his ire as he passed beneath them.

This was his kingdom and he seldom flaunted his power, but every species was aware interference would not be tolerated. Without his constant vigilance and his continual care, their world would soon disappear. He watched over and protected them and asked little in return. Now he demanded complete cooperation. Death would come silently and swiftly to any who dared defy him.

Everything was different the moment Maggie Odessa set foot into the jungle. She was different. She felt it. Where the heat on the coast had been oppressive, stifling, within the forest that same heat seemed to envelop her in a strange perfumed world. With each step that took her into the deeper interior, she became more aware. More alert. As if awakening from a dream world. Her hearing was much more acute. She could hear separate insects, identify the trilling sounds of birds, the cries of monkeys. She heard the wind rustling in the branches overhead and smaller animals scurrying among the leaves. It was strange, yet exhilarating.

When Maggie had first learned of her inheritance, she had thought to sell it off without seeing it, out of respect for her adoptive mother. Jayne Odessa had been adamant that Maggie never enter the rain forest. Jayne had been frightened by the very idea of it, repeatedly begging Maggie to promise that she would never put herself at risk. Maggie loved her adoptive mother and didn’t want to go against her wishes, but after Jayne’s death, a lawyer had contacted Maggie to inform her that she was the daughter of a wealthy couple, naturalists who had died violently when she was a child, and that she had inherited their estate deep in the rain forests of Borneo. The temptation was too much to resist. Despite the promises Maggie had made to her adoptive mother, she had journeyed halfway around the world to look for her past.

Maggie had flown into the small airport and rendezvoused with the three men sent by the lawyer to meet her. From there they’d traveled in a four-wheel-drive utility vehicle for an hour before they left the main highway and took a series of unpaved roads leading into deeper forest. It seemed as if they had bumped over every rut and pit in the dirt road. Eventually they had parked the vehicle to proceed on foot, a prospect Maggie hadn’t been happy about. The humidity was high and she knotted her khaki shirt around her backpack as they trekked deeper into the forest.

The men seemed enormously strong and well prepared. They were well built, quiet when they walked, intensely alert. She had been nervous at first, but once they were walking along the trail in deeper jungle, everything seemed to change; she felt as if she were coming home.

As she followed her guides, winding deeper into the darkened interior, she became aware of the mechanics of her own body. Of her muscles, the way they moved sleekly, easily, her strides almost rhythmic. She didn’t stumble, she didn’t make unnecessary noise. Her feet seemed to find their own placement over the uneven ground.

Maggie became aware of her own femininity. Small beads of moisture ran in the valley between her breasts, sleek with sweat, her shirt plastered to her skin. Her long, thick hair, her one call to glory, was heavy and hot against her neck and down her back. She lifted the heavy mass, the simple act suddenly sensual, lifting her breasts beneath the thin cotton T-shirt, her nipples rasping gently on the material. Maggie twisted her hair with the expertise of practice, fastening the thick rope to her head with a jeweled stick.

Strange that the heat and primitive jungle should suddenly make her conscious of her body. The way she moved, her hips gently swaying, almost an invitation, as if she knew someone was watching, someone she wanted to entice. In her entire life, she had never been a flirt or a tease, yet now the temptation was overwhelming. It was as if she had come to life, here in this dark, overgrown place with vines and leaves and every kind of plant imaginable.

Shorter trees vied for sunlight with the tall trees. They were draped with liana vines and creeping plants of various shades of green. Wild orchids hung above her head and rhododendrons climbed as high as some of the trees. Flowering plants grew on the trees, stretching for the sunlight that managed to make its way through the heavier canopy. Brightly colored lorikeets and other birds were in constant motion. The raspy call of insects was a noisy hum that filled the forest. The air was sweet with perfumed flowers that teased her senses. It was an exotic, erotic setting where she knew she belonged.

Maggie tilted her head back with a small sigh, rubbing at the sweat on her throat with the palm of her hand. Her lower body felt heavy and restless with each step she took. Needy. Wanting. Her breasts were swollen and achy. Her hands trembled. A strange elation swept through her. Life pulsed in her veins. An awakening.

It was then she became aware of the men watching her. Hot eyes on the movements of her body. The curve of her hips, the thrust of her breasts straining against the fabric of her T-shirt. The rise and fall of her breath as she walked along the narrow path. Ordinarily, knowing that she was being watched would have embarrassed her, yet she felt wanton, almost an exhibitionist.

Maggie examined her feelings, and was shocked. She was aroused. Totally aroused. She had always thought she was a bit on the asexual side. She never noticed men the way her friends did, never really was attracted to them. They certainly didn’t find her attractive, yet now she not only was aware of her own sexuality but was reveling in the fact that she was turning men on. She frowned, puzzling over the unfamiliar feelings. It didn’t feel right to her. She wasn’t attracted to the men, even as aroused as her body was. It wasn’t the men. It was something deep within her she couldn’t comprehend.

She moved along the path, feeling eyes caressing her body, feeling the weight of stares, hearing the heavier breathing of the men as she went deeper into the darkened interior of the forest. The jungle seemed to close behind them, vines and bushes spreading across the trail. The wind gusted, heavy enough to drop leaves and small twigs onto the forest floor. Flower petals, vines, and even a few smaller branches settled onto the ground so that it looked as if it hadn’t been disturbed in eons.

Her eyes were seeing details differently, much more sharply, catching movement she shouldn’t have been able to notice. It was exhilarating. Even her sense of smell seemed enhanced. She was trying to avoid walking over a beautiful white lacy plant that seemed to be everywhere. It gave off a pungent odor. ‘What is this on the ground?’ she ventured to ask.

‘A type of fungi,’ one of the men answered gruffly. He had introduced himself merely as Conner. ‘Insects love it. They end up spreading its spores everywhere.’ He cleared his throat, glanced at the other men, then back at her. ‘What do you do in the big city, miss?’

Maggie was startled that he asked her a question. None of the men had encouraged much conversation. ‘I’m a veterinarian for exotic animals. I specialize in felines.’

Maggie had always been drawn to the wilds, studying and researching everything she could find on rain forests, animals, and plants. She had worked hard to become a veterinarian of exotic animals, hoping to practice in the wilderness, but Jayne had been so unwavering, resolute in her determination to keep Maggie close, she had eventually settled for working for the zoo. This had been her big chance to go to the place she had always longed to see.

Maggie had dreams of the rain forest. She had never played with dolls like other little girls, but with plastic animals, lions and leopards and tigers. All the big cats. She had an affinity for them; she knew when they were in pain or upset or depressed. Felines responded to her and she had quickly acquired a reputation for her ability to heal and work with exotic cats.

The men exchanged a brief look she couldn’t hope to interpret. For some reason their reaction made her uneasy, but she persisted in attempting to converse now that he’d given her an opening. ‘I read that there are rhinoceros and elephants in this forest. Is that true?’

The man who called himself Joshua nodded abruptly, reached back, and took her backpack out of her hand as if the weight of it was forcing them to slow down. She didn’t protest because he didn’t so much as break stride. They were moving fast now.

‘You’re certain of where you’re going? There’s really a small village where there are people around? I don’t want to be left all alone with no one to help me if I get bitten by a snake or something.’ Was that her voice? Throaty? Husky? It didn’t sound like her.

‘Yes, miss, there’s a town and supplies.’ Conner’s tone was guarded.

A ripple of unease went through her. She struggled to tame her voice, make it once more her own. ‘Surely there’s another way to get there without going on foot? How do they bring in supplies?’

‘Mules. And no, to reach your home and the village, you must walk.’

‘Is it always this dark in the forest?’ Maggie persisted. What landmarks were they navigating by? There were so many trees. Ironwood and sandalwood. Ebony and teak. So many different kinds. There had been numerous fruit trees such as coconut palms and mango and banana and orange along the outer perimeters. She recognized the various types of trees, but couldn’t tell what the men were using to identify the actual trail. How could they tell where they were going or how to get back? She was intrigued and a bit awed by their ability.

‘The sunlight has little chance to penetrate the thick branches and leaves above,’ came the answer. No one slowed the pace, no one even glanced at her.

Maggie could tell they didn’t want to converse. It wasn’t exactly as if they were being rude to her, but she could tell when she addressed them directly that they were uneasy. Maggie shrugged carelessly. She didn’t need conversation. She had always been comfortable with her own company, and there were so many intriguing things in the forest. She caught a glimpse of a snake nearly as thick as a man’s arm. There was a tiny spot of spectacular color that turned out to be a frog of some sort on a tree. And so many lizards she lost count. It should have been immensely difficult to spot such creatures. They blended with the foliage, yet somehow she could see them. Almost as if the jungle was changing her in some way, improving her sight, her ability to hear and smell.

Sudden silence took hold of the forest. Insects ceased their endless hum. Birds abruptly stopped their continuous calls. Even the monkeys ceased all chatter. The stillness disturbed her, sent a chill cascading down her spine. A single warning was shrieked high in the canopy, an alert of danger, and Maggie knew instantly that it was danger to her. The hair on the back of her neck raised and she nervously turned her head from side to side as she walked, her eyes restlessly probing the thick foliage.

Her apprehension must have communicated itself to the guards. They tightened up the distance between them, one dropping back behind her, urging her to move more quickly through the forest.

Maggie’s heart accelerated, her mouth went dry. She could feel her body begin to tremble. Something moved in the deep foliage, large, heavily muscled, a shadow in the shadows. Something paced along beside them. She could-n’t really see it, yet she did, the impression of a large predator, an animal stalking her silently. She felt the weight of an intent, focused stare, the unblinking eyes of something savage. Something fixated on her. Something wild.

‘Are we safe?’ She asked the question softly, moving closer to her guides.

‘Of course we’re safe, miss,’ the third man replied, a tall blond with dark, brooding eyes. His gaze slid over her. ‘Nothing would attack so large a party.’

The group wasn’t that large. Four people tramping on a nonexistent path toward an uncertain destination. She did-n’t feel all that safe. She had forgotten what the third man’s name was. It suddenly bothered her. Really bothered her. What if something did attack them and the man tried to protect her and she didn’t even know who he was?

Maggie glanced back. The trail had disappeared completely behind them. She lifted her chin, another shiver finding its way through her body. Something watched and waited to attack. Were they walking into an ambush? She didn’t know any of the men. She was trusting a lawyer she knew very little about. She’d investigated him, of course, to ensure he was legitimate, but that did-n’t mean she hadn’t been deceived. Women disappeared every day.

‘Miss Odessa?’ It was the tall blond. ‘Don’t look so frightened. Nothing is going to happen to you.’

She managed a small smile. His reassurance didn’t take away her fear of the unknown, but she was grateful he had noticed and had tried. ‘Thank you. The forest went so quiet all of a sudden, and it feels so …’ Dangerous. The word was in her mind but she didn’t want to speak it aloud, to give it life. Instead she matched her stride to the blond’s. ‘Please call me Maggie. I’ve never been very formal. What’s your name?’

He hesitated, glanced toward the left into the heavy foliage. ‘It’s Donovan, Miss … er … Maggie. Drake Donovan.’

‘Have you been to the village often?’

‘I have a home there,’ he admitted. ‘We all have homes there.’

Relief swept through her. She felt some of the tension leave her body. ‘That’s reassuring. I was beginning to think I had inherited a small hut in the middle of the forest or maybe at the top of one of the trees.’ Her laughter was low. Husky. Almost seductive.

Maggie blinked in shock. There it was again. She never sounded like that, yet twice now her voice had become an invitation. She didn’t want Drake Donovan to think she was coming on to him. What in the world had gotten into her? Something was happening to her, something she did-n’t like at all. She knew it was wrong, everything about it felt wrong, yet her body was raging at her with an urgent, primitive need.

From several yards away, Brandt feasted his eyes on her through the thick foliage. She was everything and more than he had expected. She wasn’t tall, but he hadn’t expected her to be. Her body was curvy, with lush breasts and hips, a small waist, strong legs. Her hair was thick and luxurious, a wealth of red-gold silk. Her brows were reddish, her eyes as green as the leaves on the trees. Her mouth was a sinful temptation.

It was oppressively hot and she was sweating, a dark vee down the front of her shirt molding to her high, firm breasts. There was a damp line down her back, drawing attention to the sweep of her spine, the curve of her hips. Her jeans rode low on her hips, exposing an enticing expanse of skin and revealing a belly button that he found exceedingly sexy. He longed to capture her right there, drag her away from the other men, and claim what belonged to him. He had taken far too long in finding her and the Han Vol Dan was nearly upon her. He could tell. The others could tell. They tried not to look at what didn’t belong to them, but she was so naturally sensuous, so alluring and compelling, the men were reacting with the same ragged hunger as he felt. Brandt felt bad for them. They were doing him a favor, despite the danger to all of them from the overpowering emotions. He had been tracking poachers when she had arrived, and the men had gone to meet her in his stead, to bring her to him.

The rain began, great sheets of it, working to penetrate the heavier foliage above them, sending the humidity up another notch. The downpour bathed the forest in iridescent colors as the water blended with light to make prisms so that rainbows washed across the vine-draped trees. The woman, his mate, Maggie Odessa, turned her face up in delight. There was no grumbling, no squeals of shock. She raised her hands over her head in silent tribute, allowing the water to cascade over her face. She was rain-wet. The drops ran down her face, her lashes. All Brandt could think of was that he needed to lap every drop from her face. To taste her petal-soft skin with the life-giving water running over it. He was suddenly thirsty, his throat parched. His body felt heavy and painful, and a strange roaring started in his head.

Maggie’s white T-shirt instantly soaked through in the sudden deluge, rendering the material nearly transparent. Her breasts were outlined, full, intriguing, a swell of lush, creamy flesh, her nipples darker and twin hard buds of invitation. The richness of her exposed body drew his gaze like a magnet. Beckoned him. Mesmerized him. His mouth went dry, and his heart hammered out an urgent tattoo.

Drake glanced back at Maggie, his gaze lingering for a hot, tension-filled moment on the sway of her breasts.

A warning rumbled deep in Brandt’s throat. The growl was low, but in the silence of the forest, it carried easily. He coughed, the peculiar, grunting cough of his kind. A threat. A command. Drake went ramrod stiff, jerked his head around, peered uneasily into the bushes.

Maggie’s gaze followed Drake’s to the thick vegetation. There was no mistaking the sound of a large jungle cat.

Drake tossed her the backpack. ‘Put on something, anything, to cover yourself.’ His voice was clipped, almost hostile.

Her eyes widened in amazement. ‘Didn’t you hear that?’ She held the pack in front of her, shielding her breasts from their view, shocked that the men seemed more concerned with her body than with the danger approaching them. ‘You had to have heard that. A leopard, and close, we should get out of here.’

‘Yes. That is a leopard, Miss Odessa. And running doesn’t do a bit of good if they’ve decided to make a meal of you.’ Keeping his back to her, Drake shoved his hand through his wet hair. ‘Just put on something else and we’ll be fine.’

‘Leopards like naked women?’ Maggie quipped as she hastily pulled on her khaki overshirt. If she didn’t make light of the situation, she might panic.

‘Absolutely. First choice every time - you might want to remember that,’ Drake said, his voice tinged with humor. ‘Are you decent?’

Maggie buttoned the khaki shirt right over the soaking wet tee. The air was thick, the scent from so many flowers almost cloying in the oppressive humidity. Her socks were wet, her feet becoming uncomfortable. ‘Yes, I’m decent. Are we even close yet?’ She didn’t want to complain but she suddenly felt irritable and annoyed with everything and everyone.

Drake didn’t turn around to check. ‘It’s a bit farther. Do you need to rest?’

She was very aware of her escorts watching the heavy foliage warily. Her breath caught in her throat. She could have sworn she saw the tip of a black tail twitching in the bushes a few yards from where she stood, but when she blinked, there were only the darker shadows and endless ferns. As hard as she tried, she could see nothing in the deeper forest, but the impression of danger remained acute.

‘I’d rather keep going,’ she admitted. She felt very out of sorts. One moment she wanted to entice the men to her, the next she wanted to snarl and rake at them, hiss and spit at them to go away from her.

‘Let’s continue then.’ Drake signaled and they were once more on the move. The three men were carrying guns slung carelessly across their backs. Each of them had a knife strapped to his waist. None of them had touched the weapons, not even when the large cat had made its presence nearby known.

The pace the men set was grueling. She was tired, wet, sticky, and far too hot, and most of all, her feet hurt. Her hiking boots were good ones, but not as broken in as she would have liked. She knew there were blisters forming on her heels. She was growing hungrier by the moment, but Maggie wasn’t about to complain. She sensed the men weren’t pushing her to be cruel or to test her endurance, but for some other reason that had to do with safety. She complied as best she could, hurrying along the trail in the sweltering heat, wondering why the jungle felt so close and where the trail had disappeared.

2

The house was surprisingly large, a great three-story structure set back in the middle of a thick stand of trees with a wide verandah that circled the entire building. Balconies on the second and third stories were intricately carved - a skilled artisan had etched the most beautiful jungle cats into the wood. It was nearly impossible to see through the branches intertwined around the house. Each balcony had at least one branch touching or nearly touching the rail to form a bridge into the network of trees, a highway high above the ground. Vines curled around the trees and hung in long, thick ropes.

Maggie studied the way the house appeared to be a part of the jungle. The wood was natural, blending into the trunks of the trees. An abundance of orchids and rhododendrons cascaded with at least thirty other species of plants and flowers from the trees and walls of the house.

The rain fell steadily, drenching the plants and trees. The rain was warm yet Maggie found herself shivering. She turned up her face to watch the individual drops fall to earth, threads of silver gleaming in the sky.

‘Maggie, night comes fast in the forest. Wild animals prowl around. Let’s get you settled in the house,’ Drake advised.

Dry clothes would be more than welcome. Or, the thought came unbidden, no clothes at all. Briefly she closed her eyes against that stranger inside of her, a part of her that the jungle was slowly awakening. She was uncomfortable with that side of herself, a sensual, uninhibited woman who wanted to be the object of a man’s desire. She wanted to tempt. To entice. To seduce. But not these men. She didn’t know whom she was looking for, she only knew her body had come to savage life and was making intimate demands she had no way of coping with.

Maggie took a deep, calming breath and forced herself to look around her, to concentrate on other things beside the edgy need crawling through her body.

‘Maggie?’ Drake prompted again.

‘You’re certain this was my parents’ home?’ she inquired, staring in awe at the craftsmanship. The way the house blended into the trees, vines, and flowers made it virtually impossible to spot unless she was staring directly at it or knew exactly where to look for it. It had been cleverly designed to appear a part of the jungle itself.

‘It’s been in your family for generations,’ Drake said.

In the waning light it was difficult to see, but it appeared as if there were several flat areas running the length of the roof, almost like paths. The room was steeply pitched and with jutting dormers and matching minibalconies. ‘Is there an attic?’ The house was already three stories. It seemed incredible that it could have a full-length attic but the large windows indicated otherwise. ‘And what are those flat spots on the roof?’

Drake hesitated, then shrugged casually as he unlocked the front door. ‘The roof is flat in spaces to accommodate easy travel if it has to be used as an escape route. There’s a basement with a tunnel, too. And yes, there’s an attic.’

Maggie stood at the threshold, watching Drake’s face closely. ‘Why would I need an escape route? Who or what would I be escaping from?’

‘You don’t have to worry. We’ll all watch out for you. The house was designed well over a hundred years ago and is meticulously maintained. Over the years its been modernized but all the original features designed for escape were kept.’

She blinked rapidly, her hand going protectively to her throat. He was lying to her. It was in the sound of his voice. Her new, acute hearing picked up the strain, a sudden tension in him. His gaze slid away from hers for just a moment, touched on the forest long enough for her to have certain knowledge of his deceit. Uneasiness washed over her, through her.

Maggie took a tentative step inside, feeling as if she were being lured by the unique beauty and eccentricity of the house. By the secrecy of her past. She had such little knowledge of her parents. They were shrouded in mystery, and the idea of learning about them was far too great a temptation to resist. She remembered very little, vague impressions only. Angry shouting, the flash of torches, arms holding her tightly. The sound of a heart beating frantically. The feel of fur against her skin. Sometimes the memories seemed the thing of nightmares; other times she remembered eyes looking down at her with such love, such pride, that her heart wanted to burst.

Standing in the middle of the front room, she looked uncertainly at Drake as Conner and Joshua paced through every room in the house, ensuring there were no stray animals hiding. ‘Are you certain the village is close?’ Before she had wanted to be alone, to rest and recover from the long journey. She was truly exhausted, having traveled for hours and definitely suffering jet lag, yet now she was afraid to be left alone in the large house.

‘Just through those trees,’ he assured her. ‘The house has indoor plumbing and we set up a small power plant on the river. Most of the time we have electricity, but once in a while it goes off. If that happens, don’t panic; there are emergency candles and flashlights in the cupboards. The house has been stocked, so you should have everything you need.’

She looked around at the well-kept house. There was no dust, no mold. In spite of the humidity, everything appeared highly polished. ‘Is someone living here?’

Drake shrugged. ‘Brandt Talbot has been the caretaker for years. If you need anything, you can ask him where to find it. He’s had the run of the house, but he’s going to be staying in the village. I’m certain he’ll help you with anything. ’

Something in the way he said the caretaker’s name got her immediate attention. She glanced up at him as a frisson of fear chased through her body. Brandt Talbot. Who was the man whose name Drake had said so softly? Drake had sounded wary and his eyes had shifted restlessly to the heavy foliage outside the house.

The other men left her luggage in the front room, lifted a brief hand, and hurried away. Drake followed them at a much slower pace. He paused at the door, looking back at her. ‘You keep the bars on the doors and windows, and don’t go walking around at night outside the house,’ he cautioned. ‘The animals around here are wild.’ His sudden smile removed all traces of grimness from his face, leaving him looking friendly. ‘Everyone has been looking forward to meeting you. You’ll get to know us all quickly enough.’

Maggie stood uncertainly on the shadowed porch of her parents’ ancestral home and watched him go with a sinking heart. It was everything yet nothing like she had expected, a place of mystery and shadows that awoke something primitive and wild and very sensual deep within her.

Leaves rustled high in the trees above her head, and she glanced up. Something moved, something large but very silent. She continued to stare into the thick foliage, straining to make out a shape, a shadow. Anything that might make the leaves flutter in the night air against the wind. Was it a large snake? A python perhaps - they grew to enormous sizes.

She felt a dark premonition of danger, of something dangerous hunting her. Stalking her. Watching her intently with a fixed, focused stare. Defensively she put a hand to her throat as if warding off the strangling bite of a leopard. Maggie took a cautious step backward, toward the safety of the house, her gaze never leaving the tree above her head.

The wind plucked at the trees, stirred and shifted the leaves. Her heart slammed hard against her chest as she found herself falling into the hypnotic gaze of a large animal. She had always been fascinated with large cats, but every encounter had been in a controlled environment. This leopard, a rare black panther, was free, wild, and on the hunt. The stare was terrifying, unnerving. Power and intelligence shone in those unblinking golden eyes. Maggie couldn’t look away, caught in the gripping intensity of the focused stare. She knew from her vast experience with exotic cats that the leopard was one of the most cunning and intelligent predators in the forest.

A single sound escaped her, a soft moan of alarm. Her tongue darted out, traced her suddenly dry lips. Maggie knew better than to run - she didn’t want to trigger an attack. She took another step backward, felt for the door. All the while her gaze was locked with the panther’s. The cat never looked away from her, a hunter beyond measure, a fast, efficient killer that was concentrated on prey. She was the prey. She recognized danger when she saw it.

He could hear her heartbeat, the fast acceleration that signaled intense fear. Her face was pale, her eyes wide as she stared deep into his. When her small tongue touched her lush bottom lip, he nearly fell out of the tree. He could almost read her thoughts. She believed he was hunting her, stalking her. She believed he was hungry. And he was. He wanted, needed to devour her. Just not in the way she thought.

She backed inside the house, slammed the door shut solidly. He heard the bar slide into place. Brandt remained very still, his heart hammering out his joy. She was his now. It was only a matter of time. The intensity of his need for her shocked him. The instinctual drive for a mate went far beyond anything he had ever experienced.

The night was falling. His time. It belonged to him, to his kind. He listened to the whispers as his world stirred to life. He heard the softest calls, knew every creature, every insect. Knew who belonged and who did not. There was a natural rhythm to life and he was in the midst of a change. Disturbing, disquieting, but he was determined to exert his discipline and handle it as he did all things, with iron control.

He shifted, roped muscles rippling beneath the thick fur as he padded in silence along the heavy branch, intent on following her progress as she moved from room to room. He couldn’t take his eyes from her, drinking in the sight of her, torturing his body, his senses, with her. She moved him as nothing ever had. She stole his breath and aroused his body to such a fever pitch of excitement he found himself enthralled.

Nothing stood between them but his honor. His code. Nothing. No time or distance. He had resolved that issue with his cunning intelligence. He lifted his head and forced his body to take in air, to read the night, to know he was in control in the midst of the upheaval. His body was different. Heavy with need, throbbing, aching. Every sense was alive. Every cell needed. Hungered. His head roared and ached, an uncomfortable state for one of power and discipline.

Maggie leaned against the door for a long time. She had been crazy to come here to this far-off place with danger at every turn. Her heart was racing and her blood rushed madly through her body. Yet a small smile touched her mouth in spite of the adrenaline pumping through her. She couldn’t remember feeling so alive before. She wasn’t even certain she had been afraid, she was so excited. It was as if she had been walking through life asleep to all the possibilities. Now, here, in the primitive jungle, every sense was enhanced and on fire.

She stepped away from the door, looked up at the ceiling with its fans and wide beams. This house suited her with its wide-open spaces and interesting carvings. She began to walk through it, confident that there were no animals in her home. It was exhilarating to feel as if she had closed out all danger and left it on the other side of the door. She picked up her packs and began an inspection of the downstairs. The rooms were large and each had the same high ceiling and sparse furniture, all made with a hard, dark wood. Curiously, in two of the bedrooms she discovered claw marks, as if some very large cat had marked the wall up near the ceiling. Maggie stared at the marks, puzzled by how they had been put there.

In the large kitchen she found a note on the small refrigerator penned in a masculine scrawl explaining how the lights worked and where to find everything she might need for the first night in her family home. There was a bowl of fresh fruit left for her and she gratefully ate a juicy mango, her parched throat savoring the sweetness. She touched the large, looping letters of the note in a silent thanks with a caressing fingertip, strangely drawn to the handwriting. She turned the note over and over, brought it to her nose, inhaling the scent. She could actually smell him. Brandt Talbot, the man who had written the note, had lived in the house.

He was everywhere. His scent. He seemed to envelop her with his presence. Once she was aware of him, she realized his touch was everywhere. He lived in the house. The polished wood and gleaming tiles had to have been his doing. The artwork, which appealed to her, had to be his.

The stairs were wide and curved in a sweeping circle up to the next level. Incredible photos of every wild creature imaginable hung on the walls going up the stairs. The photographs were rare treasures. The photographer had captured the very essence of wildlife, unusual action shots and beautiful pictures of plants, close-ups that depicted the dewy petals. She leaned closer, already knowing who had taken the photographs. In the corner of each picture was a four-line poem. Reading the words made her feel as if she had accidentally connected intimately with the poet. Each poem had been written in a looping masculine scrawl. The sentiments were thoughtful, beautiful, romantic even. It couldn’t have been written by anyone else. Brandt Talbot had the soul of a poet. He was an unusual man and she was already intrigued.

She inhaled again as she climbed the stairs, drawing the scent of him deep into her lungs. He seemed to belong. Here in the house. Deep inside of her where she breathed. The mysterious Brandt Talbot with his incredible photography skills and his love of wood and wildlife and beautiful words. He seemed familiar, a man who shared her favorite things.

Weariness was making her droop. Maggie became aware of how uncomfortable her skin was, wet and sticky, as she made her way up to the second story. She found a bedroom at the end of the hallway that was to her liking. The bed was made up invitingly, the fans were already circulating air, and there was a spacious private bath off the room.

She put her packs on the dresser, silently claiming the room as her own. Above the bed, up in the corner, she saw the claw marks etched deeply into the wood and she shivered. Her gaze remained there as she tossed the khaki shirt aside and peeled off the wet T-shirt. It was a relief to have the soaked material away from her tender skin.

Maggie stood in the center of the room wearing only her low-riding jeans, and she sighed with relief. Wet clothes clinging to her skin called up a strange sensation, almost as if something lying dormant beneath her skin stirred for a moment, tried to break through her pores, then subsided, leaving her itchy and tender and very irritable. She stretched her sore muscles, lifted her hands to take down her hair, shaking it loose so she could wash the heavy mass in the shower.

Her boots came off next, then her socks. It was heaven to be barefoot, her soles cool on the floorboards. Much more comfortable, she took the time to look around the large room. The second-story bedroom was spacious with wide beams and little furniture. The bed was huge with four intricately carved posters rising halfway to the ceiling. Several fans whirled above her head, providing a welcome breeze in the room. Her gaze touched once more on the strange claw marks, slid away, then returned as if drawn by some unseen force.

She crossed the room to stare up at them, finally climbed up on the bed and stretched to touch them with her fingertips. She traced each mark. The wood was shredded; the claws had dug in deep. Was it from a long-ago pet kept in the house? Something wild that had marked its territory?

The moment the unbidden thought came to her, she shivered, the marks taking on life, burning her fingertips so that she pulled her hand quickly away from the wall. Surprised, she glanced at her seared fingers but found them without a blemish. Maggie put her fingers in her mouth, soothing the sensitive nerve endings with her tongue.

She wandered across the room to the windows. The panes in the room seemed overlarge, big enough to climb through should she need to do so. Each room had similar size windows with the inevitable balcony around them. A grid of bars shielded each window, making her very aware she was in a wild setting.

Maggie stood at the window, staring out into the night. Into the rain and the forest. She could see the leaves waving and dancing in the trees as the wind increased in strength. Bone tired, she began to slowly peel away her jeans, wet from the tropical rain and sticking to her. She wanted a shower and then to lie down and sleep as long as possible. She didn’t want to think about how wild her surroundings were, how she seemed so different here in this exotic setting. She didn’t want to be aware of her body, every nerve ending heightened by the sultry air and danger surrounding her. She stood naked, staring out the window into the darkness, unable to look away.

The glass reflected back her image as a mirror might. The strange heaviness was on her again, a burning that pooled low and wicked in her body, throbbing and demanding relief. It was even stronger than the last time, as if a wave of sexual hunger gripped her, settled in her, demanded satisfaction. Maggie leaned closer to peer into the glass, inspecting her body. Her skin was unmarred, smooth and inviting.

Separated only by a thin pane of glass, Brandt’s breath stilled in his body. She was so enticing with her innocent eyes and sultry mouth. Her body was made to be touched, to be enjoyed. Made for him. His heart thundered out a savage beat and his body shuddered with anticipation.

He could almost feel the texture of her skin, soft and inviting. He knew the way their bodies would come together in frantic heat, in a firestorm of passion and hunger. When she moved, her body was a seductive invitation, her full breasts drawing his heated gaze. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her skin so that she glistened like the petals of a flower after a rain. He locked his muscles to keep from leaping through the window and lapping at every inch of exposed skin. He wanted to suckle her lush breasts, feel her fiery heat surround him. He wanted to be buried deep inside of her. He had so many plans, each more erotic than the last, and looking at her, he vowed to have her in every way possible. Drawn by the sight of her body unveiled to him, he pressed closer, his eyes gleaming gold in the dark.

Strangely, Maggie felt eyes on her, watching her. The impression was so strong she stepped even closer to the window. She doubted if any human would be out standing on the balcony in the deluge, especially with a panther near. Yet the feeling persisted that her lover had arrived and he waited for her. Wanted her. Was desperate for her. The feeling was strong, overwhelming, as if she could feel his savage hunger beating at her in her mind. His eyes were caressing every inch of her body.

Her hands moved up her narrow rib cage on the path she wanted him to take. She cupped the weight of her breasts in her hands, an offering, a blatant temptation. She needed to feel him touching her, his thumbs teasing her nipples into hard peaks. Maggie’s skin was hot and flushed, her body aching for release. When she moved, it was a sensual flow of muscles and curves, her hands following the lines of her body, drawing attention to the fiery triangle of curls at the junction of her legs.

Her thighs felt smooth, her hips rounded. She ached for her lover to find her, to come to her, to touch her skin and find every secret place on her body. Her long hair fell around her like a silken cloak, strands sliding over her breasts and back as she moved, caressing her breasts and buttocks. The sensation caused her body to clench tightly in reaction, her blood to thicken and her breath to grow labored.

Maggie placed her hands on the glass pane. She wanted. She hungered. For whom she didn’t know, but the feeling was strong in her. And it wasn’t sweet or pleasant. The erotic images dancing in her head were rough and consuming, not of a gentle, considerate lover, but one taking her in a wild frenzy of lust, of elemental, savage desire.

The pictures in her head bewildered her and she turned away from the window. Maggie padded barefoot to the shower, hoping to wash away the strange ideas in her head. The strange sensations in her body. She wasn’t at all prepared for the way the tropical forest affected her, and she just wanted it to go away.

The water was cool on her skin. Maggie closed her eyes and savored the feel of it, the way it seemed to absorb into her tissues and pores. She was exhausted, wanting only to sleep, yet the fever in her blood was strong. A force of nature. She leaned against the wall of the shower and allowed the water to cascade over her breasts, massaging the terrible ache. If she belonged in this wild, primitive setting, did it mean the reaction of her body would never go away? Maggie patted her body dry, leaving some of the cooling water to dry beneath the fans.

She lay on the bed in the dark, listening to the rain. Outside her window the wind blew, and unfamiliar sounds of the jungle penetrated the walls of the house. She lay still with her heart beating in tune to the rain. She could feel the sheet beneath her skin. She found herself rubbing her body along the material, wanting to feel every inch of her skin touching it. She rolled seductively, stretched, came up on her hands and knees to push her bottom up in the air. All the while she throbbed and burned and nothing she did gave her relief.

Brandt watched as she was caught in the throes of the sexual heat of their race. She was the most sensuous creature he had ever seen. His body was on fire, painful, as she moved against the sheets. He watched her fingers move over skin that belonged to him. Touch places that were made for him. A snarl escaped, a low moan of hunger. The lust, the need was so strong he no longer cared about honor, about the future. He would have her tonight. Now. There would be no waiting.

And then she buried her face in the pillow and wept as if her heart were breaking. The sound stopped him cold. He stared at her, seeing her easily in the dark, and felt her fears, her loneliness. Felt her confusion and humiliation for things she couldn’t hope to control or understand. He hadn’t thought what changing her life so drastically would do to her, only what it would do for him. He crouched on the balcony and listened while she cried herself to sleep. Unexpectedly, his heart nearly shattered.