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had moved over him. He clenched his teeth, grateful she’d at least stopped the body contact with another male in his presence. His leopard clawed for supremacy.
    “Why did you bring me here?”
    Her eyes slid over him, holding contempt and pure loathing. “Because you’re the only person I know who is bastard enough, deceptive enough, who might be able to get those children back. You’re very good at what you do. I’m only asking for a few minutes of your time to hear me out and I think you owe me that.”
    Conner stared her down for several long moments before gesturing toward the door. Rio hesitated. The only person who had a chance of killing Conner Vega was Isabeau Chandler. He wouldn’t fight her. The last thing Rio wanted to do was leave and Conner could sense his reluctance.
    “She deserves her five minutes,” Conner said.

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    Rio gestured for Carpio to walk in front of him. Conner waited for the door to close before he turned fully toward Isabeau and allowed himself to breathe again. Her scent was potent, surrounding him, invading, swamping him. He could hear the insects in the forest, the hum of life buzzing in his veins. The rich sap running in the trees and the constant movement in the canopy overhead thrummed through his body, a thick, potent mixture of heat and desire. The drum of water, constant and steady, beat in rhythm with his heart. He was home—in the forest—and his mate was caged in the same room with him.
    She moved away from the door—away from him, a delicate retreat from his predatory nature. His gaze tracked her, much like a wild animal following prey. He knew his stillness made her nervous, but he remained locked in place, forcing himself not to leap on her when every cell in his body demanded it. His gaze never left her, completely focused, automatically calculating the distance between them each time she changed it.
    “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be here with me?” He kept his tone low, but the menace was there.
    Her gaze flicked over him, filled with contempt, filled with revulsion. “Do you have any idea how dirty I feel standing here in this room with you?” she countered. “What am I supposed to call you this time? Do you have a name?”
    He shouldn’t tell her, but what the hell difference did it make now? She belonged to him and she was in the jungle. She’d brought him to her— sent for him. “Conner Vega,” he answered, his gaze locked on hers, daring her to accuse him of lying. His voice wasn’t quite normal, but at least he hadn’t killed her companion. He’d held on long enough to get control and had allowed Rio to get the man out of harm’s way. Death was in his eyes. He knew that, just as pure loathing was in hers.
    Her eyebrow shot up. She made a little moue with her lips. She radiated heat mixed with fury. His heart jumped. His cock reacted, engorged and hot. Need punched, hard and mean. His crime was unforgivable. He understood that intellectually, but the animal in him refused to accept it. She was his—that’s what the animal understood. She was alive, in the same world and she belonged to him. And right now, her body was throwing off enough pheromones to draw every male within a hundred miles. He drew a deep, shuddering breath of air into his lungs and held on grimly to his control.
    “Is that your real name?”
    “Yes. Why did you bring me here, Isabeau?”
    Breath hissed out between her teeth. She had small white teeth. Her leopard was different—rare. A clouded leopard perhaps. There were so few of them. She was curvy, yet streamlined, muscles fluid beneath her skin, the mark of their species, her hair thick and long, nearly impossible to keep short. She didn’t know her own power; he recognized that as well. She didn’t know she was safe from him and her fear beat at him. Ugly. Like a sin. A man’s woman should never be afraid of him or his