Savage Nature Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  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

  Epilogue

  Teaser chapter

  "THE QUEEN OF PARANORMAL ROMANCE."

  --USA Today

  Praise for Christine Feehan's Leopard novels . . .

  WILD FIRE

  "High-stakes action and gut-wrenching emotion."

  --RT Book Reviews

  BURNING WILD

  "Christine Feehan is at the top of her game."

  --Midwest Book Review

  WILD RAIN

  "Readers . . . will be seduced by this erotic adventure."

  --Publishers Weekly

  Praise for Christine Feehan's Carpathian novels . . .

  DARK PERIL

  "Wonderful . . . action-packed."

  --Genre Go Round Reviews

  DARK SLAYER

  "[A] super entry, which longtime fans will enjoy."

  --Midwest Book Review

  DARK CURSE

  "A very intense book."

  --The Best Reviews

  DARK POSSESSION

  "Danger, fantasy and wild, uninhibited romance."

  --Publishers Weekly

  DARK CELEBRATION

  "[A] sex-and-magic-filled treat."

  --Publishers Weekly

  "A HIGH PRIESTESS IN THE WORLD

  OF VAMPIRE FICTION."

  --Romantic Times

  DARK DEMON

  "A terrific, action-packed romantic thriller."

  --The Best Reviews

  DARK SECRET

  "The erotic heat . . . turns scorching."

  --Booklist

  DARK DESTINY

  "Deeply sensuous."

  --Booklist

  DARK MELODY

  "A richly evocative fantasy world . . . [the] love scenes sizzle."

  --Publishers Weekly

  DARK SYMPHONY

  "Feehan's followers will be well sated."

  --Publishers Weekly

  DARK GUARDIAN

  "A skillful blend of supernatural thrills and romance."

  --Publishers Weekly

  DARK LEGEND

  "Vampire romance at its best!"

  --Romantic Times

  DARK FIRE

  "Fun and different . . . pick up a copy of this book."

  --All About Romance

  DARK CHALLENGE

  "[An] exciting and multifaceted world."

  --Romantic Times

  DARK MAGIC

  "Feehan builds a complex society that makes for mesmerizing reading."

  --Romantic Times

  DARK GOLD

  "Wish I had written it!"

  --Amanda Ashley

  DARK DESIRE

  "Terrific."

  --Romantic Times

  DARK PRINCE

  "For lovers of vampire novels, this one is a keeper."

  --New-Age Bookshelf

  Praise for Christine Feehan's GhostWalker novels . . .

  STREET GAME

  "An enjoyable urban romantic suspense thriller . . . action-packed."

  --Midwest Book Review

  MURDER GAME

  "A no-holds-barred adventure . . . you won't be able to put this page-turner down."

  --Fresh Fiction

  PREDATORY GAME

  "[An] explosive, scintillating novel."

  --Romantic Times

  DEADLY GAME

  "[An] action-packed, gut-wrenching, adrenaline-driven ride."

  --Romance Junkies

  CONSPIRACY GAME

  "Love and danger are a winning combination in [Conspiracy Game]."

  --Booklist

  NIGHT GAME

  "The sensual scenes rival the steaming bayou. A perfect 10."

  --Romance Reviews Today

  SHADOW GAME

  "Erotically charged."

  cy Game

  Titles by Christine Feehan

  RUTHLESS GAME

  STREET GAME

  MURDER GAME

  PREDATORY GAME

  DEADLY GAME

  CONSPIRACY GAME

  NIGHT GAME

  MIND GAME

  SHADOW GAME

  HIDDEN CURRENTS

  TURBULENT SEA

  SAFE HARBOR

  DANGEROUS TIDES

  OCEANS OF FIRE

  SAVAGE NATURE

  WILD FIRE

  BURNING WILD

  WILD RAIN

  WATER BOUND

  DARK PERIL

  DARK SLAYER

  DARK CURSE

  DARK HUNGER

  DARK POSSESSION

  DARK CELEBRATION

  DARK DEMON

  DARK SECRET

  DARK DESTINY

  DARK MELODY

  DARK SYMPHONY

  DARK GUARDIAN

  DARK LEGEND

  DARK FIRE

  DARK CHALLENGE

  DARK MAGIC

  DARK GOLD

  DARK DESIRE

  DARK PRINCE

  Anthologies

  HOT BLOODED

  (with Maggie Shayne, Emma Holly, and Angela Knight)

  LOVER BEWARE

  (with Fiona Brand, Katherine Sutcliffe, and Eileen Wilks)

  FANTASY

  (with Emma Holly, Sabrina Jeffries, and Elda Minger)

  FEVER

  (Includes THE AWAKENING and WILD RAIN)

  SEA STORM

  (Includes MAGIC IN THE WIND and OCEANS OF FIRE)

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen's Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi--110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  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 havetaltrol over and does not have any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  SAVAGE NATURE

  A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Jove mass-market edition / May 2011

  Copyright (c) 2011 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 c
opyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-47775-5

  JOVE(r)

  Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  JOVE(r) is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  The "J" design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  https://us.penguingroup.com

  For my mother, Nancy King,

  whom I miss every single day

  For My Readers

  Be sure to go to https://www.christinefeehan.com/members/ to sign up for my PRIVATE book announcement list and download the FREE ebook of Dark Desserts . 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@christine feehan.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 bayou 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. Domini, as always, you make the book so much better! I appreciate you all so much!

  1

  THE swamp had four distinct seasons and within each she had moods as well. Tonight she wore a mantle of purple, all different hues, dark swirls that filled the night sky and lighter lavenders that crept through the cypress trees. The moon illuminated the veils of moss hanging to the water's edge, turning them a pale, silvery blue. Crimson and blue made up the color purple, and it was evident in the splashes of dark red slashing through the trees to pour into the duckweed-carpeted water below.

  Saria Boudreaux smiled as she carefully stepped from her airboat to the blind she'd set up, building it day by day, a little at a time, so as not to disturb the wildlife around her. She'd grown up on the edges of the swamp and there was nowhere she was happier. The blind was set up alongside an owl's nest and she hoped to get night pictures, a coveted coup that could possibly bring her a great deal more money. More and more, her photography was allowing her an independence from her family's store that she hadn't thought possible.

  Going to school had been rather difficult--she'd been miserable--until she'd discovered the world of photography. Most of her childhood had been spent running wild in the swamps, fishing, maintaining the crab pots, even helping hunt alligator with her father when her brothers were gone--which had been most of the time. She wasn't used to authority in any form, and school was too structured, had too many rules. She couldn't breathe with so many people around her. She had nearly fled into the swamp to avoid the rules when a kind teacher had pushed a camera into her hands and suggested she take some pictures of her beloved swamp.

  There was a bit of a moon tonight, so she wouldn't need the dim light she had used the last few nights to reveal activity in the nest. The babies made eager sounds as an adult approached, and as it descended, Saria tripped the camera's shutter release. At once there was a burst of light, much like a lightning strike, as she set off the electronic flash. Used to lightning, the birds never seemed to be bothered by the occasional bright flare.

  She caught a glimpse of talons and a beak outlined against the night sky as the owl dropped down to the nest, and her heart sang. At night the swamp had a different music to it. The bellow of alligators could literally shake the earth. Movement was all around her, in the air, under her feet, in the water and through the trees. The natural rhythm even changed from daylight to dark. Sometimes, lately, she thought maybe she'd been spending too much time in the swamp. Her night vision seemed vastly improved, so that even without the flash of the camera, she often caught sight of the adult owls returning with their catch.

  Flickering light caught her eye. Someone had to be poaching, or night fishing around Fenton's Marsh. Fenton Lumber Company owned thousands of acres of swamp and leased it to most of the families that she knew. Seven of the families living in the burrow each leased several thousand acres to hunt, trap and fish, making their livings almost entirely in the swamp. Some of the men, like her brothers, worked on the Mississippi to bring in money as well, but their lives centered around the swamp.

  Fenton's Marsh was considered rather sacred and off-limits to her people. She found herself scowling at the thought of anyone poaching there. Jake Fenton, the original owner, was well-respected by those living there. It was hard to gain the trust and respect of anyone living in the swamp, yet all the families had liked the older man and often invited him into their homes. He'd become a regular fixture in the swamps. More than once, several of the alligator hunters had allowed him along, a huge privilege when it was dangerous work and a greenhorn was never welcome. He had given them generous leases and no one would jeopardize their livelihood by biting the hand that fed them. Fenton was dead, but everyone knew that the marsh contained oil, and his great-grandson, Jake Bannaconni, would be developing it one day. Out of respect for Jake Fenton, they left that marsh alone.

  The adult owl took off again, the rustle of movement attracting her attention briefly, but she refrained from trying to get any more shots. The lights in the swamp madeer uneasy, and she didn't want the flashes from her camera to give her away. She shifted position, easing the cramping in her hip, reaching almost unconsciously for her gear. She had meant to spend the night and go home in the early morning light, but the uneasiness was suddenly full-blown fear, and there weren't a lot of things Saria was afraid of.

  She had begun the climb down from her blind when she heard a ragged scream. The sound was human. Male and ugly, harsh--and terrified. The swamp came alive in an instant, birds protesting, frogs and insects going silent, the normally rhythmic world evaporating into chaos. The scream ended abruptly, a ragged, cut-off note of agony.

  Chills slid down her spine as she quietly slipped into her boat. Had an alligator managed to kill the person hunting it? As she pushed off into the carpet of duckweed, a screaming roar of absolute fury cut through the swamp. Spitting growls and deep roaring reverberated through the cypress grove. The world around her froze, every creature going still. Even the alligators fell silent. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood up. Goose bumps rose. The breath left her lungs in a rush.

  A leopard. She knew the legends and myths of leopards in the swamp. The Cajuns who spoke of seeing one of the elusive creatures referred to them as "ghost cats." A few naturalists said they didn't exist. Others claimed they were Florida panthers out of the Everglades, looking for new territories. She knew the real truth, and they all had it wrong.

  Saria sat very still in her boat, her body trembling, her hand feeling for the reassuring knife at her belt. She'd carried that knife from the time she was ten years old and she'd discovered the truth. Using careful, deliberate movements, she extracted her gun from the case beside her and checked to make certain it was in perfect firing order. She had begun practicing at the age of ten and was a deadly shot--which had made her invaluable when hunting with her father. She could hit that small quarter-sized spot on the back of an alligator's neck to kill it every single time.

  She moistened her suddenly dry lips and waited there in the dark, heart pounding, hoping the trees and the root systems hid her. The slight wind carried her scent away from Fenton's Marsh. The roars faded into the night and the silence stretched for what seemed hours. She knew the large predator was still close--the night was far too still.

  She had tried to tell herself for years that she'd had nightmares, and maybe she'd actually convinced herself it was true until she heard that sound--that roar. And now she could hear a rasping call and then a sawing cough. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her temples, biting down hard on her lower lip. The sounds were
unmistakable. She could pretend away many things, but not that. Once heard, it was never forgotten. She'd heard those sounds when she was a child.

  Remy, her oldest brother, was sixteen when she was born and was already considered a man. He worked on the river, as did Mahieu by the time she was walking. The boys were in school and worked afterward for long hours while her mother slowly succumbed to some wasting disease and her father retreated further and further into the world of alcoholism. By the time she was ten, her mother was long gone and her father rarely spoke. Remy and Mahieu and Dash were all serving in the armed forces overseas and Gage had just joined. Lojos, at eighteen, ran the store and bar nearly single-handedly and rarely had time to do more than grab a handful of food before rushing out to work.

  Saria had been responsible for the house and the fishing lines, running wild in the bayou without supervision from that time on. The boys had come home for a mini reunion before they scattered again, back to the service. They were barely aware of her existence, eating the meals she provided, but not really paying attention to the fact that she cooked. She had desperately wanted attention and felt alienated and left out--not angry exactly, but rather sad that she didn't really fit in with them.