Dark Peril by Christine Feehan Read Free Book Online

knees beside Solange, pulling her niece into her embrace, and the four of them wept endlessly for everyone they loved.
    The jaguar stretched, easing her weight from the injured leg, blinking while her eyes ached and her heart twisted with terrible pain. So many more deaths she couldn’t prevent, and she was so tired. So very tired. How did one keep hate alive? And how could she continue to fuel the rage so that she could continue with her mission? Most of all, how did one remain completely, utterly alone?
    Her cousin Jasmine was pregnant, and Juliette was mated to a Carpathian male. She might say those men were the scourge of the earth, but in truth, she was happy for Juliette. And Jasmine was now in their care. She loved Juliette and Jasmine as sisters and didn’t want this life for them, yet someone had to rescue women from the monsters preying on them in the forest.
    She rested her muzzle on her paws and allowed her eyes to close, summoning her only companion. A myth. A dream. Juliette and Jasmine would laugh if they knew how man-hating Solange really survived the terrors of her life. She reached for her dream lover, the one man who got her through every horrific event. And God knew, tonight she needed him desperately. She reached in her mind, knowing the dream so intimately now. His voice first—so gentle and compelling. How many nights had he sung her to sleep? She loved his song, that haunting melody she would never forget as long as she lived.
    The Amazon was a place where legends and myths came to life, where reality and dream met. Where sky, earth and the underworld were joined by the great temples of her ancestors. Throughout history, the shamans had revered the spirit of the jaguar, knowing the shifters hunted as both man and animal, day or night, taking command of the unknown. Long ago, when she was deep in a limestone cave, her wounds severe, hopes fading, she had conjured up a companion—a legend come to life in her mind. Maybe she’d been delirious, and maybe, like now when she needed him, she still was.
    He had to be a warrior, of course. She needed to be able to respect him. She’d dreamt of him, sometimes at night, sometimes during the day, slowly allowing him to take shape in her mind. He was tall, with flowing black hair, broad shoulders, strong arms and a man’s face. He’d fought many battles and, like her, was weary of being alone, but knew he would only have her in his dreams. He would come to her after his battles and he would lay down his arms and find solace in her.
    She could never quite decide on the color of his eyes. She loved making them intensely blue, but then at times they would be like the green of the emerald. She was always fascinated by her dream lover’s eyes. Never the same, always unpredictable, they mirrored the mystery of the man. He had a poet’s soul. He was very gentle, his voice mesmerizing, melodic and quite beautiful. He often sang her to sleep when pain clouded her mind and she lay alone in the dark with her heart pounding and the taste of fear in her mouth.
    She dared not dream of him when she was in human form, or around anyone else. He was hers alone, and she needed to protect him, so she only allowed him to invade her dreams when she was in the shape of a jaguar. Deep inside the animal’s body, she couldn’t murmur aloud where another might hear of him. He was her secret weakness—or strength—however she was in the mood to view her dream life.
    She made certain he had all the attributes of a noble man, someone like her stepfather, who took on a wife and child and loved them with everything in him. She’d never been treated differently by him, not even when his sons were born. He’d loved her and treated her like a princess, even spoiled her. She’d loved him so much, and if she ever had a man of her own, which she knew was impossible, he would have to have that generous, loyal, giving spirit.
    Some small part of her smiled. She’d given those attributes