She made the sign of the cross and left the church, anxious to be gone before Father Gallagher was finished hearing confession. She didn’t know if she could face him and not give herself away. The stress was getting to her, and her stomach had begun churning. She ran lightly down the steps and headed back toward the dock where she’d left her boat.

The night seemed darker, the shadows longer, reaching for her as she hurried toward the grove that would provide the shorter route back to the dock. Quickly, she moved along the narrow path through the thick stand of trees. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, goose bumps raised along her arms and she shivered, cursing under her breath as she hesitated, nearly turning back toward the lights of town muted by the fog. As if on cue, the rain began to fall, a downpour of warm drops that soaked her instantly. The deluge drove her into the grove where the overhead canopy might protect her a little from the onslaught. She hurried along the path, head up, searching for anything that might be causing her warning radar to go off.

A large shadow shifted in the trees. Her heart jumped and then began pounding. Something seemed to move, pushing against her flesh from the inside out, leaving behind an itch as it receded. Her skin felt tight and her jaw ached. She became aware of her hands hurting. She looked down to see her fingers curled tightly, sharp nails pressing into her palm. Behind her, cutting off her escape to town, she heard a soft chuffing noise and her blood ran cold. Her heartbeat accelerated out of control, thundering in her skull. Her breath came in ragged gasps.

She took a cautious step toward the dock, her hand slipping the knife from her belt. The hilt felt solid in her palm and she curled her fingers tightly around it like a talisman. Her own brothers wouldn’t kill her, would they? Her mouth was dry.

She tried to listen as she hurried, but her own heart and her gasping breath filled her ears, the thunder a terrible roaring, drowning out everything else. The veils of Spanish moss swayed, creating an eerie, ghostlike presence in all the trees. The branches, twisted and gnarled, reached out in the dark like ghoulish hands. She’d never been afraid in the rovf trees along the river. She’d never feared alligators or the swamp even at night. She was careful, as her father had taught her, yet now terror gripped her.

She knew better than to run, knew it would trigger the leopard’s instincts, but she couldn’t stop herself from picking up her pace, moving as fast as she could through the pouring rain without actually running. She heard a whoosh, like the rush of a freight train. Something hit her from behind, slamming into her back so hard, she felt as if her bones had shattered. The heavy weight of it drove her down so she hit the ground hard, landing with her hands pinned under her, the knife still firmly in her grip, but completely useless. She felt hot breath on the back of her neck and tensed, ready to fight. The thing was far too heavy to push up. She couldn’t get her knees under her, and the moment she started to struggle, it sank teeth into her shoulder.

Saria opened her mouth to scream, but got a mouthful of mud. Tears burned her eyes as she waited for it to kill her. Claws gripped her hips hard, warning her not to move. She went still beneath the heavy weight. For a moment neither moved. Very slowly she turned her head. The leopard shifted to bring his head beside hers. She found herself staring into yellow-green eyes. Wide and unblinking, the thing stared back at her. There was intelligence there, and a warning. Breath blew hot against her skin.

She shuddered as the large head drew near her face. The mouth yawned wide and she closed her eyes, certain those terrible teeth would close around her face. The rough tongue lapped once over her face, removing the stream of tears. She drew in a breath and then felt fire raking down her back, ripping through her shirt. She screamed again, struggling to throw him off. His claw dug into her flesh and carved four deep grooves from her shoulder blades to her waistline.

Deep inside of her, something wild lifted its head as if awakening. Adrenaline pulsed through her, rushing like a drug through her veins, strength and energy pouring into her, lending her phenomenal strength. She shoved up hard, gathering her legs under her enough to create a small separation, just enough to roll. At the same time, she brought the knife up, slashing toward the leopard’s jugular.

The cat’s front paw flew toward her knife hand, the heavy body pinning her as the great claw shifted, and to her horror, fingers caught her wrist and slammed her hand back into the muck. That human hand, coming out of a leopard’s body, terrified her. It was grotesque and wrong and not at all romantic like a young child had envisioned. Deep inside her own body, something shifted and moved, pushing aside fear to ignite a burning bright anger.

As they stared at one another, fury smoldered deep inside her body. She could almost feel something inside of her, living and breathing, furious that the leopard dared to touch her. Her skin itched and her jaw ached. Her entire body hurt, probably from the vicious hit when the cat brought her down.

“Go ahead,” she bit out, trying not to sob, trembling with a combination of fear and anger. “Just do it.”

He held her down with his heavy paws, breathing against her neck again. She closed her eyes and waited for the death bite. Unlike most large cats, leopards preferred to bite the throat of their prey and hold until the victim suffocated. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the large leopard backed away from her. She peeked out from under her lashes and watched it as it steadily backed up, one silent paw at a time. All the while, those yellow-green eyes remained on her facfont>

She didn’t dare move, afraid she would trigger more aggression in the animal. Long after he disappeared into the fog, she lay on the ground, shaking, tears running down her face. It hurt to sit up, her back on fire. The rain soothed the fiery streaks. The bite mark on her shoulder oozed. Infection was a real threat in the swamp. She couldn’t go to a doctor, and if she went to the treateur, what was she going to say? That a leopard attacked her in the cypress grove just outside of town? The woman would have her committed.