Page 30 of Beasts of Mine

Then memory returned.

Leopard.

Creek.

Rain.

I lifted my head.

He was awake. The leopard hadn't moved far, but at some point while I'd slept, he'd shifted himself around so that most of his body rested between me and the open side of the shelter.

My tired brain took a moment to understand what I was seeing. He had positioned himself between me and the forest.

Protectively.

My chest did that strange tightening thing again. Then I realized he was staring at me.

Not glancing.

Not checking whether I'd woken.

Watching.

His head was raised, golden eyes fixed steadily on my face while the fading light beyond the roots softened the dark markings around them. I had no idea how long he'd been sitting like that.

“What?” I asked the leopard, my voice rough with sleep as I pushed several damp strands of hair away from my cheek. His ears shifted slightly at the sound.

Nothing, the leopard replied after a moment, lowering his head toward his paws without actually taking his eyes off me.

I stared at him.

“That is obviously a lie,” I told the leopard, pulling my knees closer while trying to work the stiffness out of one shoulder.

The leopard's whiskers moved.

You talk in your sleep, the leopard replied, his voice carrying a faint hint of amusement.

My entire body went still.

“I do not,” I told him, narrowing my eyes while embarrassment immediately chased away some of my sleepiness.

You do, the leopard insisted, settling his chin across his paws.

“What did I say?” I asked the leopard, suddenly suspicious as I tried to remember whether I'd been dreaming.

His eyes closed.

Nothing important, the leopard answered far too calmly.

“That means I definitely said something embarrassing,” I told him, leaning toward him slightly while frustration mixed with reluctant amusement.

The leopard remained silent.

“Cat,” I warned him, deliberately using the nickname I knew he hated.

Both ears flattened.

Do not call me that, the leopard replied, opening his eyes again with immediate irritation.