green. The leopard swung its head this way and that, peering around the room, ignoring the small snarling cat as if it was beneath its dignity. It stepped fully into the house, the tail switching from side to side. It rubbed its shoulder against the chair and sink, all the while staring at Rachael with far too much intelligence in its eyes.

She moved her hand very slowly, bringing it into the bed, sliding it under the pillow to find the reassuring metal of the gun. Curling her fingers around the grip she pulled it in slow motion toward her.

Beneath the bed, Fritz snarled loudly. “Hush,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice low so she didn’t trigger the leopard into an attack.

To her amazement, the little cat went silent. The black leopard continued rubbing its body along the furnitur e, all the while staring at her. She lay still, unable to look away. As the animal approached her, Rachael forgot to bring the weapon up to aim. The animal didn’t use a slow stalk, it simply padded over to her, rubbing the length of its body along the bed. It rubbed its head along her arm, the fur soft and unbelievably luxurious. Her breath caught in her throat. She had to fight an impulse to bury her fingers in the fur, to rub her face in the neck and shoulder of the animal.

The leopard began a slow systematic rub of her body with its head, chin and cheeks, rubbing down her shoulder and across her breasts. It stretched across the bed to rub her stomach and the junction between her legs, took its time rubbing over her good leg and, after sniffing her wounded leg, was careful as it rubbed its way back up her leg to her head.

The leopard’s breath was warm against her skin as it nudged her shoulder, giving her the impression the animal wanted her to scratch it. The gun slipped from her hand to rest on the blanket and she sank her fingers into the thick fur. It was daring and nearly overwhelming, a wild and crazy impulse she couldn’t control. She traced the darker shadow of rosettes buried in the dense black fur with her finger tips. Tentatively, she began to scratch the leopard’s ears and neck, became bold enough to scratch along its broad chest. She could see several scars in the fur, indicating the cat had been in more than one fight, but the animal was a magnificent specimen of its kind. Muscles ran like steel beneath the fur, wrapped around the body in every direction. She should have been terrified at being in such close proximity, but the night took on a surreal quality.

Up so close she could see the whiskers were very long, and were on the upper lips, cheeks, chin, over the eyes and even on the inside of the leopard’s forelegs. The hairs were embedded in the tissue with nerve endings that transmitted continual tangible information much like a radar system. During an attack, the leopard could extend the whiskers much like a net in front of the mouth to help it assess the prey’s body position in order to administer a lethal bite. Rachael hoped the continual rubbing against her was a signal for her to scratch harder and not that the animal was becoming aggressive.

Fritz stuck his nose out from under the bed and her heart pounded in fear for the small wounded cat.

The larger leopard merely touched noses, rubbed the top of the clouded leopard’s head with his own.

Then it stretched languidly, scraped the floor around the bed and repeated its rubbing over Rachael’s body with its head before padding across the room to the kitchen area. It stood on its hind feet and raked its claws continually down the wall, leaving long, deep grooves in the wood. Exactly like the other grooves. It dropped back to the floor, turned its head to look at her once more with its focused stare, then, unhurried, padded out of the house into the darkness.

Nine

Rachael wiped the sweat from her eyes and stared at the claw markson the wall. She hadn’t been dreaming. A huge leopard had been in the house, walking around as if it owned the place. It had looked at her with its eerie stare. The animal had rubbed up against the bed, against her skin, against her entire body, not once, but twice, against the furniture and had just stretched full length to rake its enormous claws down the kitchen wall, leaving behind telltale grooves embedded deep in the wood. She couldn’t have imagined such a beast any more than she could imagine the claw marks.

“Just when you think it’s safe to go back into the jungle,” she whispered aloud, afraid if she spoke too loudly the cat would return. “Rio? Rio, where are you?”

The door was open to the night, the mosquito net blowing gently in the mild breeze. The rain was a soft fall in the distance. Rachael sat up, taking care not to jar her leg. She had more strength, but her leg was swollen and painful even with slight movement. Dragging on Rio’s shirt, muttering as it snagged on her broken wrist, she threw back the cover. The gun fell to the floor with a clatter, the noise loud in the stillness of the night.

With a little sigh, Rachael fished around for it, reaching with her fingertips, trying to spare her leg until she was forced to move. There was no sound, but she felt the impact of his eyes. At once she could breathe easier. Rachael looked up to find Rio’s wide shoulders filling the doorway. She was used to the fact that he rarely wore clothes in the house. That his body was as hard as a rock. That there was something dangerous and different about him she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But she would never get over the sure power of his eyes.

“Aside from the fact that you left the door open and a leopard decided to visit, you have to stop taking these midnight strolls. Hasn’t anyone ever told you the forest can be dangerous at night?” Rachael curled her fingers into the blanket, making a fist, wishing she could jam it in her mouth and shut up for a change. Could she sound any more ridiculous lecturing him about the dangers of the forest when he knew far better than she? It was just that she’d been so afraid and the relief of having him back safe and unharmed was overpowering.