Both leopards rolled and came to their feet, reared up on hind legs, slashing and biting at their opponent. The leopard retreated first, falling back a few steps, sides heaving and bloody. Eli watched him warily. Circled slowly to the left. The leopard seemed to be favoring one side, down close to his hind legs, as if when Eli dropped from the roof, he’d managed to injure the heavily muscled leopard.
Cordeau’s lieutenant suddenly made a run for the house, trying to burst past Eli’s larger black panther. Eli realized immediately what he was doing. He wanted to warn Cordeau that Eli had killed the other two leopards and was much stronger and more combat experienced than any of them had counted on.
Eli cut him off, slamming him to the ground. The leopard rolled toward the tree line and Eli followed, raking at the injured hind end again, trying to hamstring him with vicious claws. He kept pushing him away from the ranch house, driving him back toward the trees. With each swipe of his claws, he dug deeper, did more damage until the leopard had no choice but to turn and defend himself.
Eli was on him in a second, using his superior strength and speed, rearing up with the leopard to rake the belly and get a strangling bite on his opponent’s throat. He drove his teeth deep into the throat, and held him there. The leopard writhed, raked, fought, but Eli refused to relinquish his deadly hold. At no time had the leopard made a sound to warn his boss, and Eli realized that there was a scar deep in the leopard’s throat, as if he’d suffered an injury there.
It took a long time for the fight to go out of the tawny leopard. He hung, panting, his eyes wild, the knowledge of his imminent death in his eyes. Eli held him and watched the life drain out of him, not able to take a chance that he could warn Cordeau that Eli was on the loose and hunting.
When he was certain the leopard was dead, Eli dropped him to the ground, shifted just enough to check for a pulse and then whirled to race back toward the house. He knew the moment he set his paw on the porch that Cordeau and Catarina were gone. The panther scented the female and also the male trying to take his mate. He let out a roar of challenge. The sound reverberated through the early morning air.
Eli pushed into the screen to smell blood. Catarina’s blood. She was injured. The black panther whirled and rushed after his mate, running full speed, following the scent of stark fear and blood.
21
CATARINA stilled inside the small female as she watched the much larger, brutal male crouch low, his eyes fixed on her with deadly intent. The eye she’d injured wept blood, but rather than looking hurt, the large cat appeared evil. Invincible.
She refused to turn tail and run. If she was going to die, she would die fighting, keeping Rafe away from Eli for as long as she was able. More, if she injured him, she’d be helping Eli, because she knew, without a doubt in her mind, that Eli would be coming for her. He had wanted her to learn to fight so she could break away and flee, or if that failed, to stay alive long enough for Eli to come for her.
Catarina stared defiantly into the male’s green-yellow eyes. Deep inside, she felt her little female coil. Become ready. She waited in absolute stillness, none of the fidgeting Rafe hated so much. Fidgeting would get her killed. She needed to see every nuance, every change in expression. When he charged, he was going to try to end her fast – or at least end her rebellion.
His roped muscles bunched beneath the loose fur. He crawled, belly low to the ground, slinking forward an inch or two and then freezing again. His muzzle pulled back in a snarling grimace, showing his teeth. His ears had gone flat, pulled to the side of his head to protect them during a fight. The eyes never changed. Never left the little female.
Heart pounding, Catarina waited, forcing air through her lungs, holding her female in place, soothing her with the knowledge that their mate was alive and would be coming soon. Eli had prepared her for this. His male had prepared her female. She just had to do exactly what she’d been taught, and that meant conquering the terror that threatened to grip her, threatened to freeze her in place.
Rafe’s male’s tail switched. The wind ruffled his fur. She watched his eyes. The hatred and anger receded just a little, and Catarina knew Rafe was fighting for dominance. The cat wanted her female’s submission. Rafe didn’t mind beating her, or allowing his male to beat up the female leopard, but he still didn’t want her dead, and that was an advantage – a small one – but still an advantage.
The male launched himself at her. His speed was breathtaking. The female tried to whip around, out of the way, but the leopard anticipated her movement and was on her in seconds, slamming her to the ground with his heavy body, his claws ripping into her sides, raking deep as his teeth sank into her shoulder, just behind her neck.