Burning Wild (3 page)

Cathy turned on Jake, furious that he’d witnessed her humiliation, furious all over again that he wasn’t the child she had set out to create. She swung her open hand at his face. Reflexes made him jump out of the way. Instantly her face darkened. Cathy was furious and Jake could smell her hatred. The fetid scent permeated her entire body, right along with her cloying perfume. He had moved away too fast to allow her to slap his face, his reflexes taking over before he could stop them. Most of the time he stood stoically under her assault, but sometimes he gave himself away without thinking.

Now he knew he had enraged her when he’d dodged her too quickly. Deep inside, the other stretched and unsheathed claws, fighting for supremacy even when they both knew he had to stay hidden. The other was the special prize Cathy had wanted all along. Jake was certain if she ever found out what was inside of him, he’d be locked away with no chance of escaping, ever. He pushed the beast down, willing to take Cathy’s fury, her punishment, to look weak and frightened in order to carry out his plan. He wasn’t that far away from success. A few more years, a lot more knowledge, and he’d break free.

“What did he say, Cathy?” Ryan stepped quietly into the room and Jake’s heart began to pound. There was a look on his face, that small secret smile that terrified Jake now.

“This runt dared to be disrespectful to me,” Cathy snarled. “He’s useless to us in every way, Ryan.”

Jake found himself dragged down to his bedroom in the basement and tied to a pole where first Ryan caned him. And then, in her fury, Cathy took over beating him with the thick cane. The other snarled and fought him for supremacy until Jake was choking on the rumbles backing up in his throat. His skin itched worse than the blinding pain across his back and legs.

“Enough,” Ryan eventually decreed. “You’re going to kill him and we don’t have Agnes to blame this time.”

With one last vicious cut, Cathy threw the cane and swept out ahead of her husband, leaving Jake sagging, gasping for breath, unable to control the rising beast. Sliding his bound hands down the pole, he managed to drag the knife from inside his boot and cut the bonds around his wrist, and then he slashed a deep cut across his thigh. He had
allowed
them to beat him. It was
his
choice, not theirs. He was bigger, stronger, smarter, he just chose not to show them. Sobbing, he buried his face in the mattress, desperately trying to breathe through the pain.

His muscles contorted. The itch increased as something live moved under his skin. His fingers ached, his knuckles throbbed. He looked at his hands where knots formed, thick and aching, along the backs of his hands. The pads of his fingers hurt. His body bent forward and he went to the floor. He found himself on all fours, head down, jaw painful. His muscles contracted and locked, and once again his body contorted. His face felt funny, his jaw elongating, his teeth bursting through his gums.

Another sob escaped his throat, but it came out a rumbling growl. Tawny fur burst through the pores of his skin, and darker rosettes sprang along his back and legs. Roped muscles rippled beneath the pelt while his skull widened and thickened. Wildness rose in him and he recognized and embraced the gift, no longer afraid of it. He accepted his other half, opening himself so the other could consume him.

He thought he would disappear until he found he was not wholly human, not wholly leopard, but a separate entity altogether, with the characteristics of both and the ability to use his brain and the leopard’s senses. A steel framework of muscles ran through his body and he stretched. His bones ached and cracked in his spine, and then became supple. His body was sore from the beating, from the change, but the strength pouring into him was worth every second of pain.

The leopard lifted his head and scented the air. He could hear the whisper of voices, smelled blood and evil, and he knew in that moment that he was ten times more dangerous than the two upstairs were—that he was capable of killing and that they had created a monster, never realizing what they were unleashing with their hatred and cruelty.

Jake shifted, falling naked to the floor, his back screaming in pain, hot tears flowing down his face, sobbing for the little boy he should have been and never would be. Afraid for what he had become and what he might do. He reached up and gripped the mattress, pulling his fingers across it, leaving long, thin tears from razor-sharp claws.

FIFTEEN YEARS

“IT’S good to see you, Jake,” Jake Fenton said and held out his hand.

The smile was genuine. His great-grandfather really was happy to see him. Lies had a distinctive scent Jake had come to recognize. Jake Fenton lied when he smiled at Cathy or Ryan, but he always sought out young Jake and sat down to converse with him. Jake genuinely liked him and in a way it was frightening. The old man was the only person who was kind to him, or who ever seemed to care. And Jake scented death on him. He didn’t want to care about Fenton, he didn’t trust caring. He didn’t trust anyone, but he couldn’t help himself. He
liked
the old man. He enjoyed their brief times together even though it always meant a severe beating after he left.

Fenton frowned and turned Jake’s hand over, examining his arms before Jake could pull away. “What the hell happened to you? How did you get all these scars, just since the last time I visited? And don’t say you’re clumsy, Jake. You aren’t clumsy.” The old man’s eyes were shrewd.

Jake glanced around to make certain they were alone. He shouldn’t have worried. He would have been able to catch the scent of his enemies had they been close. Cathy despised the old man and Ryan never went near him. There was secret pleasure in knowing his great-grandfather only came to visit him. Fenton lived in Texas and didn’t really care for Chicago, but every now and then he’d take a trip to see Jake.

It was Fenton who insisted on the best tutors and it was Fenton who would talk openly about stocks and bonds with him. He insisted Jake learn languages from an early age and usually spoke to Jake in a variety of foreign languages, explaining to him that to do commerce in other countries, one had to know customs and languages. He spoke of his land and how he knew there was oil on it, but they’d been unable to find it. Cathy and Ryan made fun of him, calling the acreage “Fenton’s Folly,” but Jake loved hearing the excitement in the old man’s voice when he spoke of finding the huge resource someday. Fenton wasn’t as interested in the money as he was the actual thrill of finding new reserves. And that told Jake that Cathy and Ryan were wrong about the old man—he hadn’t thrown his money away; he had so much he didn’t need more.

“Jake, the scars? Is it that worthless son of a bitch Ryan? Or my granddaughter? She has a streak of cruelty in her. I never believed that nanny of yours beat you. I can’t imagine Cathy not knowing everything that goes on in her household.”

“Forget about it, Grandfather,” Jake said quietly, his gaze meeting Fenton’s. “I’m handling it.”

The old man shook his head and dropped down into a chair, looking around the library, his gaze wandering from book to book. Jake already had learned the value of silence and just waited while Fenton obviously made a decision. When he looked up at Jake, he showed every one of his eighty-seven years.

“Have you heard anyone speaking of the leopard people?”

Jake’s heart jumped, and he didn’t answer right away, afraid of a trap. He could smell lies and it occurred to him that his great-grandfather might be able to as well. “Tell me.”

“You must never reveal any of what I’m about to tell you. Not to anyone. Especially not to your parents or the Trents.”

Jake drew in a deep breath, his heart pounding hard. This was it. This was his moment to learn, to become more powerful. “I promise.”

Fenton leaned forward and lowered his voice. “The leopard people aren’t a myth any more than the oil on my property is. I
know
the oil is there even though I can’t find it, just as I know there are shifters in our bloodline even though I can’t shift. I met a true shifter once. They’re a separate species, not fully human yet not fully animal either. They are both.”

Jake moistened his lips. Did the old man know about him? Suspect? Was he looking to trick Jake? He pressed his lips together to keep silent, but his heart raced as his great-grandfather glanced at him sharply.

“There are a few shifters left in the Borneo rain forest, men and women who live with honor, who keep to the old ways. Find them, Jake. Learn from them. They are true to their nature, not the corrupt, twisted beings our bloodlines produce.” He sighed heavily. “It’s my grandfather’s fault. He kidnapped a woman from the forest and forced her to marry him. In those days, women didn’t have many rights and no one helped her. He had discovered the secret and knew that with the traits of the species, we could gain wealth and power. And he wanted it. He was ambitious and he wanted it.” He hung his head, running his hand over his face. “Our bloodline carries the epitome of cruelty. You don’t want to live like them. You must take care to keep yourself decent. The genes are strong in you, and with them come responsibility.”

Jake felt his belly knot into tight, hard lumps of protest. “I have to be whatever it takes to get away from them.”

Fenton sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Have you ever studied breeding? Breeding anything at all, cattle, dogs, whatever? You can breed good or bad traits into a line. You have to take care, watch what you do, or you end up with very bad blood. Leopards are cunning creatures. You hunt a leopard in the wild and they’re one of the few predators that will circle around to stalk and kill their hunter. They can be cruel and fierce and bad-tempered. But they’re also cunning, sharp and intelligent. Read up on them, Jake, and then you’ll have an idea of what any of us with shifter genetics contends with. We don’t have to shift to feel the effects.”

“Can you really not shift?” Jake asked. He kept his eyes downcast, his face still, afraid he’d give away his excitement. “I know you said you couldn’t, but you know so much.”

The old man shook his head. “I really can’t. The leopard is there inside me. I reach for it, but shifting eludes me. I traveled to the rain forest when I found the diaries my grandfather kept, and I met some of the people. They aren’t like us. We’re abominations in comparison. Cathy, my own granddaughter, is a sick, twisted being, cruel beyond measure, and I know I’m responsible. I married a woman to further the bloodline. Don’t do that. Don’t continue this experiment. It’s dangerous and the people we create are dangerous.”

“Like me,” Jake said quietly.

Fenton stared at him.

“You know what they’re like behind closed doors, yet you left me here with them,” Jake accused, voicing the reason he didn’t trust the old man. “They would have let me go.”

“Never. They would have fought to keep you because they have to present a certain picture to the outside world.”

“They hate me.”

“They fear you.”

Jake’s golden gaze jumped to his great-grandfather’s face and burned there, a fixed focus, while his heart pounded. It was true. They feared him. And they should, because someday he was going to be stronger, faster, smarter and much, much crueler than they’d ever dreamt of being—and he was going to tear their world apart.

EIGHTEEN YEARS

JAKE Fenton was dead and young Jake felt as if he were the only one mourning the man. Cathy and Ryan hadn’t bothered to go to the funeral, but they sat in the lawyer’s office, waiting hopefully for an inheritance, although both had loudly speculated that Fenton had used up every penny on acquiring more and more worthless land. When the news came, Ryan and Cathy were stunned and pleased. Fenton owned several companies and even more stocks. They inherited two construction companies outright and, between the two of them, what appeared to be the majority of stock in a chain of major hotels.

Young Jake was given three companies, a mediocre plastics plant that barely kept its head above water, a company called Uni-Diversified Holdings and a corporation that was a parent company for several smaller businesses. He also inherited Fenton’s Folly, which was a huge tract of land in Texas no one wanted, two corn farms and several tracts in other states that appeared to be swampland. Stocks were in his name as well as a sizable cash inheritance, although Cathy and Ryan received the bulk of the money.

The lawyer went on to explain that there were a couple of absolute conditions that had to be met. No one could contest the will or they would forfeit their portions immediately. Cathy and Ryan could not inherit from Jake, even if he should die, nor could Jake ever sell to them or give them anything of Fenton’s. If he did die before his fiftieth birthday and he had no children, the land, money and stocks would be put in a trust for a list of charities and an immediate investigation into Jake’s death would take place. At that time, two letters that Jake Fenton wrote would be opened that might aid the investigators.

Young Jake noted that Cathy looked quite pale, but she didn’t say a word. The tension in the room was palpable. They had lost their whipping boy. He had a place to go, he had money and he was of age. There was little they could do about it. Fenton had outmaneuvered them. Without a word to him, his enemies left the lawyer’s office.

Jake remained, accepting the letter Fenton had left that carefully detailed his future plans for his cornfields and how he meant to use them for plastic. He had specific business plans for the little plastics company. And there was one more thing: Uni-Diversified Holdings held enough stocks that, when coupled with Jake’s personal stock, Jake became the majority stockholder in the companies his parents owned. The corporation was an umbrella for several foreign businesses that were proving to be strong moneymakers. Jake was instantly a multimillionaire and well on his way to his first billion.

NINETEEN YEARS

JAKE found the Texas ranch to be a kind of paradise. The leopard could run free through the numerous trees and wild foliage his grandfather had encouraged to grow. The house was enormous, a mansion by even Texas standards, with a library most cities would envy. He continued his studies in languages as well as business, hiring his own tutors, studying each company he owned and listening carefully to those Fenton had trusted to run them.