“Are you saying these killings have been going on for years—that they’re connected?”

“We believe so. And if a serial killer is on the loose and no one has come close to him before now, then Saria is in real danger. She’s alone all the time in the swamp. Everyone knows her and knows she photographs everythin’. If she found his current dumpin’ ground, and she sent a letter which he managed to intercept, she’s on his radar.”

Every muscle in Drake’s body tensed. The thought of Saria in danger was more than disturbing—everything male—in both leopard and human—protested.

“You’ve been watching all the females in your lair closely to protect them,” he guessed shrewdly.

Remy nodded. “The leopard bite bothers me. I doubt it’s real, but suppose someone knows about us and is tryin’ to cast blame on us—to bring us out into the open. We’ve married into families incapable of shiftin’ over the years. It’s possible someone born with the traits of a leopard but unable to shift could do this.”

Drake nodded. “Our species is capable of great cruelties. Without the ability to shift and allow the leopard freedom, yes, it could happen easily.”

“Saria bein’ so close to the Han Vol Dan complicates matters,” Mahieu added. “Every male for a hundred miles is crazy. Armande and Robert have both lost their minds.”

“It’s a lot more complicated than a female being close to emerging,” Drake contradicted. “This lair is in trouble and I think you all know that. You need strong leadership to keep leopards in check, especially around an actual city. This lair lacks that. You weren’t there the other night when they sent a fighter to challenge me. Robert Lanoux broke one of the most important rules in any lair and he went unpunished.”

“He was punished today,” Remy said grimly.

“Yes, but you’re not the leader of the lair, Jeanmard is. Or was. You know this situation will only grow worse if something isn’t done.”

“Are you advocatin’ one of us become the leader of this lair?” Remy sounded incredulous.

“Not one of you. You,” Drake said. “Because if you don’t, you’re going to have murders all over the place. If you think the attack on Saria was a one-time thing, you’re sadly mistaken. I’ve seen this happen before. Leopards have intense drives. You have to meet those drives or your leopard goes rogue. You all know that.”

“I have a serial killer to catch. Puttin’ this lair back together again is a full-time job.”

Drake nodded. “You’re going to have to send your males out to find females away from this place so you don’t risk the bloodlines becoming contaminated. More than anything, that gets dangerous. There are all kinds of problems here, Remy, and someone has to fix them.”

“Boss,” Joshua interrupted. “We’ve got company out there and they don’t look friendly.”

11

DRAKE leapt to his feet, the jump taking him across the room to the hallway where Saria had disappeared. He landed in a half crouch. Mouth set in grim lines, face a death mask, he turned already glowing eyes on Remy. “Where is Saria?” It was a clear demand, his voice a growl.

Joshua and Evan immediately moved position, a covert shift to cover their leader while Jerico remained at the windows, his weapon cradled comfortably in his arms.

Mahieu and Gabe blew out the candles, plunging the room into utter darkness, but with leopard vision, they had no problem seeing.

“The darkroom is a small shed behind the house,” Remy said. “Lojos went with her.” There was worry in his voice.

“Remy Boudreaux!” Amos Jeanmard’s voice called from outside. “We have Saria. She is a member of this lair and it has been decided that she is not allowed to leave our lair. We need her here. It is her duty to mate with one of our males. She will be given the chance for her leopard to choose. As lair leader I demand you and your family comply for the good of the lair.”

A roar of fury erupted from Drake. He began ripping his shirt away, claws forming, leaving thin traces of blood along his chest. “You’d better choose where your loyalty lies, Boudreaux,” he spat out. “Your sister or this poor excuse of a lair.”

Jerico yanked open the door as Drake kicked aside shoes and began peeling off his jeans.

“I challenge for leadership,” Drake snarled, “as is the right of every leopard.” He shifted on the run, leaping from the living room straight through the door and landing twenty feet from Amos Jeanmard.

The leader of the Louisiana lair ripped hastily at his clothing, stumbling back from the snarling, hissing interloper. He couldn’t refuse the challenge—no leader could—but it was obvious he hadn’t expected a challenge to happen so quickly.

Drake’s vision was all banded heat. He located Saria, who looked disheveled. There was a bruise coming up on her cheek, her hair was wild, and her mouth set in grim lines. She stood very close to a tall stranger, a man he’d never seen—or scented—before, but he inhaled deeply, knowing he would never forget that scent now. The man stood so still he could have been carved from stone, and he wore a strange, almost desperate expression on his face. A few yards from them, Drake could see Lojos on the ground, unmoving.

The scent of blood reached him and he grimaced, prowling back and forth, roaring his challenge. The other lair members shifted back away from him each time he approached them. Twice he rushed Amos, stopping the charge only inches from the man as he finally stripped, his body contorting and cracking as he shifted.