Savage Nature
Christine Feehan
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.
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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.
