Page 84 of Savage Saint

Without another word, Saint leads me away from the main clubhouse and toward another building a little farther back on the property. It’s two stories, with dark concrete and steel, easily three times the size of what I’ve been expecting their on-site gym to be.

And the second the heavy door opens, I stop. “Jesus.”

This is beyond anything I could think of.

Most of the first floor is open, filled with weights, machines, heavy punching bags hanging from the ceiling, and training mats—at the center, there’s a sparring ring. There’s a water fountain and a towel rack, and along one wall, a closed steel door. On the opposite side, there’s a staircase and nothing else.

Everything is clean. Organized.

Yet that’s not what catches my attention. A scratching sound comes from the steel door, and I instinctively take a step back. “What was that?”

“Hmm?”

“The scratching?”

That gets his attention; Santos grabs my hand and drags me across the room, stopping in front of the door. I can hear a chuffing sound coming from the other side, small holes at the center, and whatever is on the other side is sniffing us. Hell, no.

I make to step back, but this infuriating man simply shakes his head as he punches in a code and the lock slowly disengages. I’m not prepared for what’s on the other side when Saint pulls open the door. My shock won’t let me move, especially when two sets of golden eyes lock on me.

They’re sitting. Just sitting there like two oversized house cats, except nothing about them is domestic.

Their coats are patterned in smoky grey and gold, dark, cloud-shaped markings stretching over compact, muscular bodies. Each tail is ridiculously long, curled around thick paws, and when the slightly larger one opens its mouth, I catch sight of canines that look far too large for his face.

“Oh my God,” I breathe out, afraid to make any sudden movements.

“Macho and Reina. My pets.”

I look at Santos slowly. “Are those clouded leopards?”

“They are.” It doesn’t go unnoticed that neither animal has jumped out at us, much less moved from their domesticated position.

He’s insane. “They are not pets. They can kill you.”

“Sure.” His mouth twitches.

The enclosure beyond them is enormous, the indoor section opening into a much larger outdoor habitat through another reinforced door at the back. Trees, climbing platforms, thick tree branches, and open ground stretch farther than I expected.

“How in the world did you end up with them?”

He pats his thigh twice, and both animals follow his command. They rise in unison, moving toward him, silent and graceful despite their size.

“They came through the port as cubs, just days old.” Saint lowers a hand to the spotted female first, dragging his palm over the top of her head and down the thick fur at her neck. Reina immediately purrs, pressing herself into his palm. “Illegal shipments; the traffickers paid someone at the port to let them pass, but I personally took care of him. There are limits to what I allow, Genesis. I’m not a good man; I’ve done plenty of horrible things, but I’d never hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. Much less a defenseless animal.”

Something in me shifts at that. I believe him.

Santos De La Cruz isn’t pretending to be something he’s not, but there are lines he will not cross, and I…respect that.

“Why didn’t you donate them to a zoo?”

“I tried, but without proper paperwork, they wouldn’t accept them. Euthanizing them was out of the question. They’re eleven months old now, and I’ll only allow them to go to a sanctuary that will take care of them, not parade them around for donations.”

His moral code is stronger than most people I know. He is an enigma.

“You confuse the hell out of me.” My gaze drops to the female now purring as he scratches behind her ear, then back to him. “Most people wouldn’t care.”

“I’m not going to apologize for it, Pocket Doc.” Macho chooses that moment to rub his head against my calf, and I startle, but the deep purr vibrating from him makes me stop instead of running away. Santos watches me for a moment, then he gives me a slow, approving nod. “Go slow. He’s asking you for attention.”

Carefully, I lower my hand to Macho’s head, and his purring deepens. His fur is so soft. Such a beautiful animal.