Burning Wild Read Free Page B

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