Leopard's Scar

Informationen zum Autor Christine Feehan is the New York Times bestselling author of many novels, including the Carpathian series, the GhostWalker series, the Leopard series, the Shadow Riders series, the Torpedo Ink series, and stand-alone romantic-suspense novels. Klappentext Animal attraction takes over in this exhilarating Leopard novel from #1 New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan. The moment Meiling sees Gedeon she knows he's a leopard shifterjust as she knows she can't trust him. Meiling doesn't take chances, life has taught her better than that. So why does she find herself rescuing this deadly, gorgeous man, when she knows she'd be better off leaving him to die? Gedeon is used to women throwing themselves at him, not throwing his injured body over their beautiful, deceptively strong shoulders and carrying him to safety. He might be embarrassed, if he wasn't so aroused by the very thought of this feisty lotus blossom. As they strike up a working relationship that suits them both, Gedeon starts to rely on Meiling for just about everything. But when her hidden nature rises to the surface, the connection that links them shifts into an all-consuming desire. And neither will escape unmarked. . . . Leseprobe 1 Meiling Chang stared in horror at the dead bodies in the open grave, dumped as if they were so much garbage. Five women. One was her cousin, her last relative on earth. She'd been too late tracking her. By how long? By the look of her, Libby had endured far too much before her life had been ended. Meiling crouched at the edge of the mass grave, ignoring the black swarms of flies, beetles and maggots that fed in abundance on the bodies. Ants teemed over them. Overhead, large birds circled, some already sitting in the trees, beady eyes staring at the bodies, all too ready to pick them clean. The jungle was prepared to take care of business. She wanted to scream in outrage until her vocal cords were shredded. Inside, where no one would ever hear or know, that was exactly what she did. She remained silent and small, huddled there in the shadows where it would take extraordinary vision for anyone to see her. Her fists clenched helplessly on her thighs. She didn't move them, even when she wanted to pound them. Feel pain. Make it real. Drive the pain deep and brand it forever in her bones the way it was in her heart and soul. She didn't dare move. She was surrounded by the enemy. There were thirty of them and one of her. She was so silly. Stupid. Just say it. She was a misfit. She didn't belong. Not anywhere. She had heard it from birth, and this proved it. She should be in that grave, not Libby, not her beautiful cousin. Libby was a golden swan. Tall and elegant. She moved like a summer breeze. Her hair was a golden waterfall of sleek silk. She could talk to anyone and charm them instantly. How could her life end by being thrown into a pit in the middle of the jungle? It made no sense. None of this made any sense. Why hadn't Libby listened to her just one time? Grief stabbed at her. Along with it came the deep-down need for vengeance. She burned with terrible emotion. No matter how hard she tried to push it away, grief stabbed at her like ice picks, demanding retaliation. She had one pistol. She wasn't certain the damn thing actually worked. Thirty against one. She didn't even have thirty bullets. She couldn't just go away and leave the other women in those dirty little huts she'd discovered, not now that she knew what was happening to them. But what could she do? She waited, trying not to breathe in the smell of rotting flesh and decay until the men patrolling around the third hut went away. When they did, she eased back into the foliage. Giant green leaves resembling elephant ears covered her body. She crawled through the thick stems, wincing as the prickly stalks stuc...

Auteur

Christine Feehan is the New York Times bestselling author of many novels, including the Carpathian series, the GhostWalker series, the Leopard series, the Shadow Riders series, the Torpedo Ink series, and stand-alone romantic-suspense novels.

Texte du rabat

**Animal attraction takes over in this exhilarating Leopard novel from #1 New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan.

The moment Meiling sees Gedeon she knows he’s a leopard shifter—just as she knows she can’t trust him. Meiling doesn’t take chances, life has taught her better than that. So why does she find herself rescuing this deadly, gorgeous man, when she knows she’d be better off leaving him to die?

Gedeon is used to women throwing themselves at him, not throwing his injured body over their beautiful, deceptively strong shoulders and carrying him to safety. He might be embarrassed, if he wasn’t so aroused by the very thought of this feisty lotus blossom.

As they strike up a working relationship that suits them both, Gedeon starts to rely on Meiling for just about everything. But when her hidden nature rises to the surface, the connection that links them shifts into an all-consuming desire. And neither will escape unmarked. . . .

Échantillon de lecture
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Meiling Chang stared in horror at the dead bodies in the open grave, dumped as if they were so much garbage. Five women. One was her cousin, her last relative on earth. She'd been too late tracking her. By how long? By the look of her, Libby had endured far too much before her life had been ended.
 
Meiling crouched at the edge of the mass grave, ignoring the black swarms of flies, beetles and maggots that fed in abundance on the bodies. Ants teemed over them. Overhead, large birds circled, some already sitting in the trees, beady eyes staring at the bodies, all too ready to pick them clean. The jungle was prepared to take care of business.
 
She wanted to scream in outrage until her vocal cords were shredded. Inside, where no one would ever hear or know, that was exactly what she did. She remained silent and small, huddled there in the shadows where it would take extraordinary vision for anyone to see her.
 
Her fists clenched helplessly on her thighs. She didn't move them, even when she wanted to pound them. Feel pain. Make it real. Drive the pain deep and brand it forever in her bones the way it was in her heart and soul. She didn't dare move. She was surrounded by the enemy. There were thirty of them and one of her.
 
She was so silly. Stupid. Just say it. She was a misfit. She didn't belong. Not anywhere. She had heard it from birth, and this proved it. She should be in that grave, not Libby, not her beautiful cousin. Libby was a golden swan. Tall and elegant. She moved like a summer breeze. Her hair was a golden waterfall of sleek silk. She could talk to anyone and charm them instantly. How could her life end by being thrown into a pit in the middle of the jungle? It made no sense. None of this made any sense. Why hadn't Libby listened to her just one time?
 
Grief stabbed at her. Along with it came the deep-down need for vengeance. She burned with terrible emotion. No matter how hard she tried to push it away, grief stabbed at her like ice picks, demanding retaliation. She had one pistol. She wasn't certain the damn thing actually worked. Thirty against one. She didn't even have thirty bullets.
 
She couldn't just go away and leave the other women in those dirty little huts she'd discovered, not now that she knew what was happening to them. But what could she do? She waited, trying not to breathe in the smell of rotting flesh and decay until the men patrolling around the third hut went away. When they did, she eased back into the foliage. Giant green leaves resembling elephant ears covered her body. She crawled through the thick stems, wincing as the prickly stalks stuck in her skin.
 
The huts were a good distance from one another. …