L06 Leopard's Prey
“THE QUEEN OF PARANORMAL ROMANCE.”
—USA Today
Praise for Christine Feehan’s Leopard novels . . .
SAVAGE NATURE
“Leaves you breathless and satisfied.”
—Smexy Books
“Sizzles with the bayou . . . Readers will be fascinated and enchanted.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Christine Feehan is keeping her Leopard series invigorating with knockout stories and terrific characters . . . Wild and thrilling from beginning to end!”
—Joyfully Reviewed
“Sure to have readers flying from page to page while relishing every moment.”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
WILD FIRE
“A heady, passionate, seductive story filled with romance, suspense and my favorite . . . shape-shifters!”
—Smexy Books
“The passion runs high and the sex is hot!”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“Sizzling and exciting . . . surprises erupt at every turn.”
—Fresh Fiction
BURNING WILD
“As always, you can expect danger and excitement punctuated by sparkling passion. Feehan doesn’t disappoint.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Christine Feehan is at the top of her game.”
—Midwest Book Review
WILD RAIN
“Readers . . . will be seduced by this erotic adventure.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Chock-full of beautiful imagery, edge-of-your-seat suspense and passionate romance . . . spicy enough to singe your eyebrows.”
—Romance Reviews Today
Praise for the Carpathian novels by Christine Feehan
“A high priestess in the world of vampire fiction.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A very intense book.”
—The Best Reviews
“Danger, fantasy and wild, uninhibited romance.”
—Publishers Weekly
“The erotic heat . . . turns scorching.”
—Booklist
“Wish I had written it!”
—Amanda Ashley
“Fun and different . . . pick up a copy of this book.”
—All About Romance
“For lovers of vampire novels, this one is a keeper.”
—New-Age Bookshelf
“Wonderful . . . action-packed.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“[A] super entry, which longtime fans will enjoy.”
—Midwest Book Review
Praise for Christine Feehan’s GhostWalker novels . . .
“Urban romantic suspense . . . action-packed.”
—Midwest Book Review
“A no-holds-barred adventure.”
—Fresh Fiction
“[An] explosive, scintillating novel.”
—RT Book Reviews
“[An] action-packed, gut-wrenching, adrenaline-driven ride.”
—Romance Junkies
“The sensual scenes rival the steaming Bayou. A perfect 10.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Erotically charged.”
—Booklist
“Sultry and suspenseful.”
—Publishers Weekly
Titles by Christine Feehan
SAMURAI GAME
DEADLY GAME
RUTHLESS GAME
CONSPIRACY GAME
STREET GAME
NIGHT GAME
MURDER GAME
MIND GAME
PREDATORY GAME
SHADOW GAME
HIDDEN CURRENTS
DANGEROUS TIDES
TURBULENT SEA
OCEANS OF FIRE
SAFE HARBOR
LEOPARD’S PREY
BURNING WILD
SAVAGE NATURE
WILD RAIN
WILD FIRE
SPIRIT BOUND
WATER BOUND
DARK STORM
DARK MELODY
DARK PREDATOR
DARK SYMPHONY
DARK PERIL
DARK GUARDIAN
DARK SLAYER
DARK LEGEND
DARK CURSE
DARK FIRE
DARK HUNGER
DARK CHALLENGE
DARK POSSESSION
DARK MAGIC
DARK CELEBRATION
DARK GOLD
DARK DEMON
DARK DESIRE
DARK SECRET
DARK PRINCE
DARK DESTINY
Anthologies
DARKEST AT DAWN
(includes DARK HUNGER and DARK SECRET)
SEA STORM
(includes MAGIC IN THE WIND and OCEANS OF FIRE)
FEVER
(includes THE AWAKENING and WILD RAIN)
FANTASY
(with Emma Holly, Sabrina Jeffries, and Elda Minger)
LOVER BEWARE
(with Fiona Brand, Katherine Sutcliffe, and Eileen Wilks)
HOT BLOODED
(with Maggie Shayne, Emma Holly, and Angela Knight)
Specials
DARK HUNGER
THE AWAKENING
CHRISTINE FEEHAN
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
For more information about the Penguin Group, visit penguin.com.
LEOPARD’S PREY
A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2013 by Christine Feehan.
Excerpt from Dark Lycan copyright © 2013 by Christine Feehan.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group.
JOVE is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
The “J” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ISBN: 978-1-101-62384-8
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Jove mass-market edition / June 2013
Cover art by Dan O’Leary.
Cover handlettering by Ron Zinn.
Cover design by George Long.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
For Erin Galloway, with love
For My Readers
Be sure to go to http://www.christinefeehan.com/members/ to sign up for my PRIVATE book announcement list and download the FREE ebook of Dark Desserts, a collection of wonderful desserts sent in by readers all over the world. Join my community and get firsthand news, enter the book discussions, ask your questions and chat with me. Please feel free to email me at Christine@christinefeehan.com. I would love to hear from you.
Acknowledgments
As always when writing a book, I have several people to thank. Melisa Long, for information on the ba
you and the Cajun people. Thanks so much for taking the time to talk with me. Brian Feehan, who always drops everything to work out tough fight scenes and discuss difficult scenarios and give me pep talks when I need them most. Domini, as always, you make the book so much better! I appreciate you all so much!
Contents
Praise
Also by Christine Feehan
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
For My Readers
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Special Excerpt from DARK LYCAN
1
THE bayou was no place for the faint of heart—especially at night. Alligators, snakes, even the occasional large cat preyed upon the unwary. Strange lights and mysterious sightings of everything from ghosts to vengeful creatures haunted the bayou at night. It was easy to get turned around, to get lost in the endless sea of grasses and the mist-covered cypress trees. One misstep and a man could sink below the ground and never find his way to the surface.
Remy Boudreaux loved the bayou. Night. Day. It didn’t matter. It was home, and it always would be. He loved the superstitions, the healers and the magic. The food. The swamps. Even the damn alligators. He loved the sultry heat and the golden sunset pouring into the water.
There was New Orleans. A city he was proud of. No matter how many times nature—or man—slammed it, the city rose over and over, each time better and stronger. It was his city. His bayou. His swamp. And his people.
The people in the bayous and swamps went about their business every day without asking for a handout. They fished and hunted, shrimped and pulled in crabs for their families. If there was trouble, they preferred to handle it on their own. They carved out lives for themselves and their families in mosquito-infested swamps and waterways. They didn’t ask permission or give apologies. They lived life as it came and they lived it large. Most had big noisy families, and celebrated every chance they got. They were your best friend or your worst nightmare, quick to anger and just as quick to give you the shirt off their backs.
Remy had traveled all over the world and he’d come back time and again to the bayou—and to his people. He loved each of them as fiercely and as passionately as only a Cajun could—or a leopard protecting its lair. What he didn’t love was murder. These were his people and no one was going to come into his world, take lives and get away with it.
Remy was a big man, tall, broad-shouldered with the signature heavy roped muscles of his kind. His hair was a bit shaggy, and midnight black. His eyes were either a striking cobalt blue or, if the situation called for it, glacier blue. Unless his cat was close, and then his gaze went watchful, serious, focused and very green. His face was tough, strong jawed, the lines carved deep. He had a serious shadow going nearly all the time, and the scar running down the side of his neck could have been from a knife—or a claw.
Remy Boudreaux was not a man anyone crossed. He was as Cajun as they came, born and raised in the bayou. He was more animal than man, the instincts of his leopard aiding him as a homicide detective. He had a reputation, well deserved, as a man not to trifle with. He took murder in his city or his bayou or swamp personally.
There was little moon and the water appeared black and shiny as the airboat skimmed over it. Tall grassy reeds rose in columns on either side of them, forming a narrow canal. The grasses were thick and impenetrable, making it impossible to see over, around or through them. Gage, Remy’s brother, handled the airboat easily, guiding it through the treacherous waters without hesitation.
“You sure about this, Gage? The same killer? When we are absolutely certain, we are going to have to inform the FBI,” Remy said. His gut already gave him the answer. Gage didn’t make mistakes, not when it came to murder.
Gage Boudreaux was sheriff of the parish. He and his men were responsible for bayous as well as the outlying areas. Right now, he was running the airboat with a grim look on his face. He felt exactly the same way about murder as Remy did.
“The body was found at one of the camps on the edge of the swamp, on the other side of Fenton’s Marsh.”
Remy swore under his breath. “Saria found the body, didn’t she? She’s still creepin’ around the swamp at night taking photographs. I was hopin’ Drake would get that girl under control.”
Gage snorted. “Our sister has never been under anyone’s control, Remy, and you know it. Her husband is wrapped around her little finger. He’s no help. In any case, she knew better than to disturb a crime scene. She took pictures just in case someone or something came along when she went for help.”
“There’s no cell phone service out in the swamp. She has no business out there without backup. Anythin’ could happen. And this is not the first dead body she’s discovered out there. You’d think Drake would have enough sense to know she isn’t safe alone in the swamp at night,” Remy snapped.
Sometimes his much younger sister made him crazy. She was a law unto herself, and she had been since she was a toddler. Their drunken father forgot her half the time and most of the boys were off doing their own thing, so she ran wild—and was still running wild even married to a man like Drake Donovan, who was certainly no pushover around anyone but her.
Saria had no problem going into the swamp at night for her photography. Granted, she made a lot of money on her photos and her reputation as a wildlife photographer was growing, but the things she did were dangerous and she had to stop. That was all there was to it.
“Whoa, bro,” Gage said. “I see the storm clouds gatherin’. Gettin’ into it with Saria is useless. You’d be talkin’ to the wind. She’d go all silent, nod her head as if she understood completely and then she’d just do whatever the hell she wanted to do.” Gage shrugged. “Although, if she listens to anyone, it’s you.”
“I wasn’t plannin’ on confrontin’ Saria,” Remy stated. He had long ago given up confronting her directly unless the circumstances were dire. She always seemed to know if he was willing to back up his threat with action or not. Locking her up was the only—and extremely dangerous—solution. Saria tended to retaliate as any self-respecting leopard would.
He didn’t want any more details on the crime scene. He liked to make his own first impressions, so he didn’t want to talk about what Saria found in the swamp. The serial killer from four years earlier had hit New Orleans hard, leaving behind four dead bodies over a period of two months, and then he was gone. If this was the same killer, Remy feared this wouldn’t be the only body found, and no one would be safe until he was caught. The swamps and bayous were lonely and took in a lot of territory. The killer would have a big playing field.
Remy was Cajun, born and raised, but he was also leopard—a shifter. A small clan of leopards had made their homes along the bayous. He didn’t just take the form of a big cat—he was leopard with all the traits of a beast. The wildness in him was always close to the surface. Passion ran just as hot as tempers. Jealousy and fury were every bit as strong as love and loyalty. There was no way to fully submerge their animal natures. They lived by a different set of rules and answered to their lair leader—Drake Donovan. Theirs was a ruthless, brutal set of laws, but necessary to keep their people under control. Some married leopards, others married outsiders who usually had no idea and never would. It was necessary to keep their ability to shift absolutely secret—even from family who were unable to shift.
“Drake and Saria have a guest stayin’ at their bed-and-breakfast,” Gage ventured. “A friend of Sari
a’s. They went to school together.”
That cool, matter-of-fact tone didn’t fool Remy for a moment. There was a hint of excitement, a definite I’ve-got-a-secret-that-will-blow-your-mind underlying all that cool.
Remy remained silent. The easiest way to get someone to tell something they were eager to spill was to not be interested. He kept his eyes on the black water ahead.
Gage growled, a rumble of annoyance. “You’ll never change, Remy. Bijou Breaux, the daughter of the most famous rock star in history. She’s finally come back. Her daddy’s been dead for four years. You’d have thought she’d come back a long time ago.”
Remy remembered enormous, wild cornflower blue eyes, so haunted that there’d been times he’d wanted to sweep that child up in his arms and take her somewhere safe. She had inherited her father’s ability to sing the angels right out of heaven. He ought to know—he’d followed her career.
“It couldn’t have been easy bein’ the only daughter of a man that famous. He died of an overdose, Gage. The drugs and women goin’ through that house must have been horrific for a child. Every time we turned around, the cops were at that estate and somethin’ bad was goin’ on.”
“Poor little rich girl?” Gage asked, a teasing note in his voice.