Romancing the leopard, p.8
Romancing the Leopard, page 8
She felt him watching her for a beat longer before he faced the speaker as well, and his attention left a tingling of awareness in its wake, like a physical caress across her cheek.
The talk was probably interesting. She was sure at any other point in time, she’d have found it fun. But in that moment, multitasking wasn’t an option.
Her entire focus was on Dylan.
10
By the time they got back to camp, Dylan noticed Cat’s occasional yawns had increased from more-than-occasional to she-was-likely-to-break-her-jaw-if-she-didn’t-get-some-sleep.
“You want to do more stargazing tonight, you need to sleep,” he warned.
“What about you? You don’t seem tired.”
“I am,” he lied. Well, not entirely a lie. He was a little tired. But he could stay up for days if needs be and be fine. He needed less sleep to manage and function than the average human did.
While Cat might not be average, she was definitely human. She needed sleep.
And he needed a little time away from her—even though his leopard rebelled at the very thought. His leopard wanted to curl up next to her while she slept so he could guard her and just be near her. Dylan needed to examine that instinct, because it wasn’t anything he’d felt for anyone before. He had to get some space and privacy so he could think through what was happening, study and analyze the “why”s of his leopard’s reaction to Cat. But he couldn’t do that while they were together. His brain short circuited while they were together, and all he wanted to do was drag her into her tent for activities that would only later lead to sleep.
“But I’m also a little restless,” he finished. “All the excitement. I’m going for a run and then I’ll nap too.”
“Fair enough.” She shrugged and covered up yet another yawn.
He chuckled. “You’re going to hurt yourself doing that if you’re not careful. Go sleep.”
There were plenty of people around the camp, the late afternoon buzzing with activity, but the quiet kind that happened at this time of day when people were a little tired, the air was a little hotter, and everyone was settling in before dinner. Tom was sitting outside his tent with a drink in one hand and an astronomy magazine in the other. He’d greeted them when they’d arrived back and they’d talked for a few minutes about the festival, but even he’d noticed Cat’s exhaustion.
For reasons Dylan couldn’t precisely pinpoint, he felt safer leaving Cat while the older man was at his site. He wasn’t sure why. He liked Tom well enough and got a good feeling from his scent and presence, but he was also still mostly a stranger. Still, it was another instinctive response that Dylan could analyze when he was alone.
“Enjoy your run,” Cat said. “Don’t let me sleep through dinner.”
“Never,” he said, very seriously. They were both very serious about their food.
She grinned, hesitating a moment longer. Without meaning to, Dylan’s gaze drop to her mouth again, to the curve of her lush lips. His more noble instincts wavered. He had to stuff his hands into his pockets to keep from brushing his fingers along her cheek, just to see how soft her skin was. If he did that, he’d just want to touch her more. Kiss her. And if he kissed her, he’d be lost, no hope of logical thought after that.
“Sleep well,” he said, telling himself he had to step back. He didn’t move. He couldn’t seem to drag himself away.
Fortunately for them both, she was a lot stronger than him. Or maybe just more sleepy. She gave him a little nod and ducked into her tent, zipping the flap closed.
He hesitated another few moments as he listened for her to settle, his gaze traveling the surroundings as he scented the air. No threats that he could pick up.
No tiger shifters either. At least not downwind where he might catch their scents.
When the shuffling movements inside her tent finally stopped and Dylan was comfortable she was safe, he ducked into his own tent to change into running shorts and shoes. He’d have preferred a four-legged run. He needed to stretch more than a human run would allow. But in the middle of the day, this would have to do.
He took to the fields next to the campsite, with the dual purpose of also scouting out a good place to set up for the eclipse.
Running over the uneven ground kept his attention focused on what he was doing, helped him push his body and shut off his mind for a bit. He had to carefully balance speed against his need to appear human on the run, which also kept him focused and concentrated. When he finally stopped a few miles from the campsite to look around, his body felt the kind of contentment that came with a short burst of physical release. Sweat dripped down his cheeks and back, cooled in a soft breeze. And while he wasn’t breathing very hard because he’d had to stick to human speeds, his lungs still felt pushed and full. It wasn’t the same as a flat out, long run in his leopard form, but it helped.
The fields he’d ended up in were too far away for what he wanted for the eclipse, but he had a new perspective from out here. A new view of his surroundings that opened up the area for him. The afternoon heat shimmered in the air over the dry grasses. He’d kept to fallow fields so he didn’t disturb crops, but the scent of nearby alfalfa hay and wheat fields, the freshness of growing things against the dry grass and heated air settled some of his inner turmoil. In the distance, he could just see the white tent of the concessions area at the campsite. Behind him the majestic grandeur of a still snow-capped Mount Jefferson. The wide open space closer to the site would make for great eclipse viewing even if the area filled with people.
He let his arms hang at his sides as he scanned the landscape, his brain slowly starting to work again. Work in a way it hadn’t seemed to do for the last twenty-four hours. This far from Cat, he could finally think.
Sort of.
Because his leopard kept insisting he hurry back to her. Like being away was actually physically difficult. The strain of it surprised him. He hadn’t known her very long, and yes, he liked spending as much time with her as possible because they only had a few days before they ended up on opposite sides of the country again. That didn’t explain the difficulty he felt just standing here, though. The way his animal side kept pacing and growling in his head like something was wrong. Like he needed to be next to her. Now. Or else.
But there was no real reason for the “or else” in those thoughts. She was safe and surrounded by other humans. If needs be, he could reach her in five minutes—if he were willing to race back at shifter speeds and chance being caught. And he hadn’t sensed the tigers anywhere near their sites. He’d even run at the edge of the campsite scenting for them before taking to the fields. Whoever they were, they weren’t in the camp when he left. So why such an insistent need to return to her side? Why did he feel like his animal was ready to burst out the longer he stood out here and kept his distance from her?
If he didn’t know better…
No. She was definitely human. She wasn’t a leopard. And while this might have happened to his oldest brother, there was no way it happened again, to him. The coincidence would be too weird, the probability too low. He knew low probability things happened. And because it had happened to Deacon, of course it was possible. But it was so unlikely, so rare. In the history of leopard shifters, the number of times this had happened could be counted on two hands.
He shook himself, an all over body shake, as if he could release the thought with the physical act. The chances, the coincidences, were just so unbelievable. His logical half couldn’t buy it. No, there had to be another explanation. Another reason he felt antsy the longer he stood here. Another explanation for the way his pulse had started to pound and his adrenaline rose because he wasn’t running back toward the camp. He lifted his head and breathed in the air, taking a measure of his surroundings. There wasn’t any danger nearby to explain the adrenaline. But sometimes his other senses picked up things even when his nose didn’t. Maybe the tigers were near and that’s why he was starting to feel his leopard rise too close to the surface, why he almost couldn’t resist the call to reach Cat in the next few minutes.
Because it just couldn’t be… He couldn’t have found…
No. Leopard shifters only mated with other leopard shifters. At least most of the time. He absolutely had not found his mate in a human woman. He would have known, in her scent, he would have realized.
Wouldn’t he?
He faced the camp, almost without thought turning in the direction of his and Cat’s sites. His leopard rose closer, and that part of him that was all instinct and action growled, Mine.
Dylan shivered, no longer a conscious act. This time with just a touch of…not exactly fear but a close cousin of the emotion. Because if his leopard wasn’t just fucking with him, if his instincts were right…
He was in big, big trouble.
11
Dylan had very nearly talked himself out of the idea by the time he reached the camp again. Ignoring the fact that the closer he got, the more relaxed his leopard got, he logiced himself out of the idea of Cat Donovan being his mate despite being human. It was a silly idea. A nonsensical one. He liked her. And he wanted her ferociously. He hadn’t wanted a woman this badly in ages.
But that didn’t make her his mate. It was just attraction. Plan and simple. That was possible and logical. She was beautiful and smart and fun and sexy. Of course he was attracted to her. Of course he wanted to spend time with her while he could. Of course he wouldn’t mind at all spending the next two nights fucking her like the world was going to end. That was just logical given his instant attraction to her and how much he’d grown to like her in the last day. But this other thing…
No. Couldn’t be. Wasn’t possible. His instincts had just confused the issue. Probably because his oldest brother had found his mate in a human woman. The thought was there in his head. And he was conflating a great deal of attraction and lust with the idea that a human mate was possible for a leopard. That was all. Nothing real, just his imagination getting the best of him.
He grabbed a towel, change of clothes, and a kit with his shower supplies in it, and headed to the shower trailers. And yes, he did pause and listen to make sure Cat was okay, but again, that was logical. He filtered out the other sounds of the active camp, ensured she was breathing deeply, sound asleep inside her tent, and felt his muscles relax once he knew she was safe. But that didn’t mean anything.
Tom gave him a wave as he passed. “Enjoy the run?” he asked without rising from his seat, the magazine still open in his lap.
“Great,” Dylan grunted.
“I don’t know how you kids do it. Wouldn’t catch me running in this heat to save my life.” He lifted his beer and took a swig. “This is the way you deal with the heat.”
Dylan laughed. “I’ll move on to that next,” he said.
The shower trailer had a line so he had to wait for something to open up. Inside, there were stalls for privacy, the set up small and cramped but not unlike a series of gym showers. The water wasn’t very hot but it wasn’t cold. And given his mood, and the run, the cooler water felt refreshing instead of irritating. When he was done with the shower, he took a few minutes at one of the sinks to shave away twenty-four-hour’s worth of itchy stubble from his cheeks.
By the time he returned to his tent, showered, shaved, and significantly cooler, he felt refreshed and clear-headed. Well, almost clear-headed. He still found himself acutely aware of Cat in her tent, of the very quiet sounds of her breathing. Sounds he almost didn’t have to focus on to hear, despite the noise around him. As the evening approached, activity around the camp picked up, people heading toward the concessions tent for dinner, or pulling out their grills. The scents of cooking meat and grilling vegetables perfumed the air and made his stomach growl. Between the run and the emotional gut punch of his earlier thoughts, he was starving.
And it wasn’t just an excuse to wake Cat, to hear her voice and see her face again.
He ignored his own anticipation as he gently tapped at her tent. “You ready for dinner yet, or would you like to sleep more?” he called.
Her shuffling movements within set his whole body on alert, the anticipation no longer something he could ignore. He tensed with the waiting, the hoping she’d step out and join him again. Relieve him of this weird discomfort at being away from her.
“Be out in a minute,” she said. “Wait for me. I’m starving.”
His pulse started to pound at the sound of her voice, his mood rose, and his skin tingled. “Take your time,” he called. Then, “Well, don’t take too long. I’m starved, too.”
Her low chuckle made his body heat in a way that had nothing to do with the weather.
He stepped all the way back to his truck to wait on her because it seemed safest, sanest. He hoped that space, small though it was, would allow him room to breathe and think. It didn’t. His entire body remained focused on her tent and the sounds of her inside, getting ready. He nearly pounced when he heard the zip on her tent flap. Shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, he pushed away from the truck, but didn’t dare get too close as she immerged.
She’d pulled her colorful hair up into a high bun, the style highlighting her high cheekbones and the lovely line of her neck. Little wisps had escaped to frame her pixie face. The lowering evening light caught her skin, giving it a pink glow that seemed almost ethereal. His breath caught. She literally took his breath away. He’d always assumed that was hyperbole, until he found himself gasping in a gulp of air when his lungs protested.
He gave himself a little shake, attempting to drag himself out of his stunned silence. “Ready?” He had to clear his throat. “The concessions tent is busy. We’ll probably get stuck in another line.”
“That’s fine so long as there’s food at the end of that line.” She smiled.
And everything in him tightened into a coil of need. He kept his hands carefully in his pockets as she joined him. Her smile turned to a funny little frown. “You okay? You seem tense.”
“Fine.” He forced his own smile even though what he really wanted to do was bury his fingers in her hair, loosen that bun, and taste her perfect mouth. He wasn’t going to do that just then. But suddenly food seemed a lot less important than kissing Cat. “Just hungry.”
“How was your run?” she asked, then before he could answer. “You showered? How are the showers? I need one later.”
“There was a line, but the water was nice.” He couldn’t think of her in the shower. He couldn’t think of her in the shower.
He was thinking of her in the shower. Naked. Wet.
His head was going to explode.
“You shaved,” she said with a little grin. “I liked the scruff but this is nice, too.”
She blinked and her cheeks slowly turned the most delightful shade of pink he’d ever seen.
He swallowed his growl, afraid she’d misinterpret it. But he did manage, “I’m glad you approve.” He’d been going for light and teasing, but his voice came out a lot deeper and more intense than he’d intended.
She sucked in a sharp breath that drew his gaze down, from her mouth to her breasts, the increasing rise and fall as her breathing subtly sped. Lust, sharp and sweet, filled her scent, tasting better than any food. He met her gaze again. Her brown eyes were wide, and this close, he could see little streaks of gold inside the brown, fascinating patterns of sparkling light against the darker depths. Luminous. It was the only word he could think of. She was luminous.
Without meaning to, he leaned a little closer to her, pulling in a deep breath, letting her scent fill his head. His leopard’s insistent growl, the push to claim, nearly overwhelmed him. Again, his instinctive half murmured, Mine. And for a second, Dylan didn’t even want to question that instinct. He didn’t care about the implications or consequences. He just wanted to pull Cat close, and kiss her until they were both weak-kneed and breathless.
He blinked first. She pulled back first. And only when she did, did he realize she’d leaned into him as well.
“Shall we go forage for some food,” she said, too brightly, her voice a little high. She blinked rapidly, her gaze jumping around as she refused to look directly at him.
He looked away from her too, although the effort was a lot more wrenching than it should have been, and motioned her toward the concessions tent, letting her walk just in front of him so he could take a moment to rein himself in.
Lust was one thing. What he felt for Cat…this was a lot more powerful and intense than simple lust. Overwhelming. Like he was drowning, out at sea, and she was the land he needed to reach to survive. That, all by itself, should have been shocking enough to pull him back from the brink, give him pause, force him to reconsider spending any more time with her. He could step away now, break any bond forming before it had time to solidify. They’d only known each other twenty-four hours. He could walk away now and not let things go too far.
He contemplated the tendrils of hair against her long neck, the way her skin flushed in the evening warmth. She waved to Tom on the way past and Tom gave her a solute with his beer. Her chuckled caught Dylan in the gut, spiking that hot slide of desire in his blood.
And he knew he wasn’t going to walk away. He wasn’t sure he really could even if he had wanted to. But the truth was, he didn’t want to.
He only wanted her.
12
Cat had never felt quite so awkward as she did in that short trip to the concession tent. Her movements were self-conscious and jerky. Everything in her was aware of Dylan at her back and that awareness made it increasingly difficult to focus on the simple act of walking.
She was a little embarrassed by her reaction back at his truck, the way she’d very nearly kissed him just because he looked so yummy and hot and delicious, but she was also a little desperate to follow through with that impulse to pull his face down to hers and kiss him like the world was ending. His hair was still wet from his shower, and her fingers had itched—literally itched!—to reach up and tunnel through that thick mass, see if his skin was cool or warm from his shower. His cheeks were a little darker after his run, the flush of his exertion making her consider how they might exert themselves in other ways that would make them both flush.
