Page 28 of Beasts of Mine

You are different when you do that, the leopard said, his voice quieter than it had been a few moments earlier.

I let the camera settle into my lap.

“Different how?” I asked him, glancing toward his face while my thumb rested against the edge of the screen.

The leopard seemed to consider his answer.

You forget everything else, the leopard replied, watching me with that same unnerving attention. You stop worrying.

I looked down at the photograph and my chest tightened slightly.

Most people didn't notice that. They noticed how excited I became about animals or how much time I spent working. They joked about me forgetting meals or disappearing behind a camera.

But he had noticed the reason underneath it.

“Yeah,” I told the leopard softly, running my thumb along the camera body. “I think that's why I love it.”

He didn't make a joke. He didn't ask another question. He simply stayed beside me while I reviewed the photographs. That was becoming another thing I liked about him.

He knew when silence was enough.

Rain began less than an hour later. There was almost no warning beyond the gradual thickening of clouds overhead and several birds becoming louder before the first heavy drops struck the canopy.

Within minutes, water poured through the trees. I shoved the camera into its waterproof cover and looked toward the path back to the station.

I should have left immediately. Instead, the leopard rose and moved farther beneath the exposed roots. Then he looked toward me.

Come here, the leopard instructed, shifting his large body enough to create room beside him.

I hesitated.

“You're inviting me into your little cave?” I asked the leopard, clutching my camera beneath my shirt as rain began running down the back of my neck.

Unless you prefer to stand in the rain, the leopard replied, his ears twitching when another heavy burst of water struck the leaves outside.

“Good point,” I told him, ducking beneath the roots before the storm could soak the rest of me.

The space was tighter than it looked from outside. I settled against the trunk with my knees pulled toward my chest, leaving enough room that I wasn't pressed against his injured side. The scent of wet soil and bark was stronger beneath the shelter, mixed with the warm, earthy smell of the leopard's fur.

I noticed that scent more than I should have. There was something strangely comforting about it. My Omega instincts had been quiet since arriving at the station, helped along by my regular blockers, but sitting this close to him caused a soft awareness to settle beneath my skin.

Not attraction.

He was an animal as far as I knew, and nothing about the sensation felt sexual. It was closer to the relief I felt after locking the door of my apartment at the end of a long trip.

Safe.

That didn't make any sense either. I shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the direction of my thoughts. The leopard noticed immediately.

Are you hurting? the leopard asked, lifting his head while his attention moved over me.

“No,” I assured him, rubbing my damp palms over my shorts. “I'm fine. Just wet.”

His gaze lingered for another second before he settled back down. Rain hammered against the surrounding leaves, turning the creek beyond our shelter louder as the water level slowly rose.

“This is temporary, by the way,” I told the leopard, leaning my head back against the trunk while trying to ignore how naturally I'd settled beside him. “Don't start thinking I've moved into your house.”

You came into my shelter, the leopard replied, shifting a few inches farther away so I had more room.