Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(89)

Darcy, however, was all human and merely clothed in the body of a panther.

He saw the moment she caught his scent and again overruled her instincts. She didn’t crouch. She used her eyes instead of her other senses. Following his scent, she should have launched herself into the tree and jumped him. Or chased after him if he’d leaped away first.

But no, she pushed away those urges because she wanted to use her eyes. To see him before acting.

With an annoyed hiss, he sprang. In two bounds, he hit her and wrapped his forelegs around her shoulders so he could bite her ear in a reprimand. Then and only then, he trawsfurred.

After a moment, she did the same. As she lay, flattened by his weight, she glared at him.

She pleased his eyes.

Her hair was the blackest of blacks and made a lush waterfall over her high, pert breasts. Muscles flowed in her shoulders and arms. Whatever she’d done in that prison, it hadn’t been sitting around on her ass.

Grumbling under her breath, she squirmed out from under him, which he enjoyed more than he should have. Herne’s hooves, this wasn’t the time to give in to his attraction. It sure wasn’t appropriate to remember the last Gathering—taking her, mating with her, how she’d felt around him.

How she cried out as she gave in to her passion.

That thought reminded him of why he was angry. He rose to his feet, folded his arms over his chest, and scowled at her. “I’ve seen better hunting from thirteen-year-olds with only a day of being a shifter. You caught my scent. Why didn’t you attack?”

She jumped to her feet and scowled back “I had to find you first.”

“No. Your nose told you where I was, and your body wanted to spring. I saw your muscles tense. But you didn’t.”

“I… I wanted to see you. To make sure.” She looked confused. Adorably confused.

He sighed and motioned her toward a log. “By Herne’s holy antlers, Gawain should explain this. I’m not used to having to…”

“Talk rather than kill?” Anger gone, she grinned at him.

“Impertinent cub.”

“I’m no cub.”

His hand reached out of its own accord, and he traced his fingertips over her shoulder, heading toward the valley between her breasts. Her skin was warm and soft with a mesmerizing silkiness. Her scent was a light musk, holding a whiff of pine from the trees.

As he breathed in, he caught the first hint of her arousal. She enjoyed his hand on her.

“No, he said huskily, “you’re no cub.” With an effort, he took a step back and dropped his arm.

Lesson. This was a lesson. Think, Treharn. Having lived with intellect-driven humans, she wouldn’t easily relax into being an animal. Daonain cubs grew up around shifters—Darcy hadn’t. “You need to let your animal instincts handle your body.”

“But, I thought… Don’t you kill Daonain who go feral and let the animal control them?”

He heard Gawain cross the meadow, but kept his eyes on Darcy. “With ferals, the human half is gone and only rage remains.”

When she paled, he knew she’d seen a feral in her past. “In animal form, if really needed, the human side can take charge. It’s…” He scowled, searching for an example. “When I learned to drive, an instructor sat beside me. I steered—did the driving—but if I screwed up, he could tell me to pull over, and he’d drive.”

“Oh.” Her brows puckered. “You’re saying I should let the animal drive and keep veto power.”

“Exactly.” Gawain sat down beside her. “You need to sink into the wildness and trust it. This is part of who you are now.”

She bit her lip. “I…don’t want to let go. I need to be in control.”

Owen snorted. “Sounds like our mother.” He regretted the words even before she glared at him.

“I am not your mother. I’m me, not any other female—any more than you are Gawain. I can tell each male is unique. Why can’t you see that females aren’t identical?”

He blinked. By the God, she’d delivered a verbal disembowelment—which was exactly what he’d asked her to do if he made an idiot of himself. “You’re right; thank you for reminding me.”

He couldn’t keep from smiling. “You’re definitely not like anyone I’ve met before.”

Her glare faded. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“I enjoyed it,” Gawain said. “But, sweetling, can you tell us why you won’t let go?”

Her color grayed, and fear scented the air. “No.”

Owen frowned. The same scent of fear had clung to her last night after the nightmare. She didn’t frighten easily, this little female. Had something happened in the past when she lost control? Something that, even now, gave her nightmares? How could he help if he didn’t know what was wrong?

By the God, he couldn’t stand it when she was frightened. Needing to protect her—even from her own past—he moved closer and put an arm around her.

She gave him a surprised look, then leaned against him and put her head on his chest. Letting him give her comfort. Finest feeling in the world.

As her muscles relaxed, he nuzzled the top of her head and figured some kisses would put her right. He hadn’t had a kiss for hours, after all. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he pulled her head back and kissed her, teasing her lips open, then delving deep.