Page 3 of Relentless Touch

A potato rolled lazily across the floor, coming to rest against someone’s shoe.

The footsteps stopped.

Kevin stared at the black boot. Practical for someone who spent hours on their feet. Maybe a size twelve.

Slowly, the owner of the shoe crouched down, and a face appeared at Kevin’s level.

The man staring at him had to have walked out of Kevin’s fantasies. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, dark hair pushed back from a face that managed to look both calm and amused at the same time. Gray-green eyes studied Kevin with curiosity.

They blinked once, a strange recognition filling them that Kevin was too panicked to think about.

“That,” the man said, “is an impala in my kitchen.”

Kevin stared back as a pot teetered on the edge of the chrome table. It tipped over, but the stranger caught it without breaking eye contact.

“Kenai, grab me a towel.” The man didn’t raise his voice. He just stayed crouched, one arm draped over his knee, watching Kevin like finding an antelope sprawled on his floor was amusing rather than insane. “And kill the overhead lights. Just leave the hoods on.”

The fluorescents cut out. Softer light from the range hoods cast the kitchen in a warm glow. Kevin’s heart was still thumping wildly. He just wasn’t sure if it was from chaos or the guy watching him.

“Hey.” The man’s voice again, pitched low. “You all right? Did you hurt yourself?”

Just my pride.

“Should I call animal control?” A younger guy, Kenai, appeared behind the crouching man, towel in hand, eyes wide. “Got them on speed dial ever since my neighbor sicced his alligator on me.”

“Because you kept running over his trashcans,” another guy argued. “That’s why you never let your grandma teach you how to drive.”

“What do you want us to do, Rio?” Kenai asked.

Rio. The name filed itself away in Kevin’s overloaded brain.

“Nothing.” Rio took the towel and set it on the floor within Kevin’s reach, though not close enough to spook him. “He’s not an animal.”

“But you just said it was an antelope,” Kenai argued.

Kevin scented the air, realizing with dread that Rio was a snow leopard…and his mate.

* * * *

Rio stayed crouched exactly where he was.

Not because he was frozen but because moving too fast would spook the impala. Whatever had sent a shifter crashing through his kitchen at this hour had already done enough damage to the poor thing’s nerves.

“Kenai,” he said, still not raising his voice, “take Tyler home. Lock the front on your way out.”

“But—”

“Kenai…”

Footsteps retreated. The front door’s lock clicked a minute later. Everything went quiet except for the low exhale of the range hood fans and the distant sound of a car pulling out of the lot.

Rio sat down on the tile floor, back against the prep station, and waited.

He’d worked with spooked animals before. Not shifters, specifically, but the principle held. You didn’t crowd them. You didn’t fill the silence with noise. You made yourself smaller than your actual size and let them come to the decision themselves.

What you didn’t do was examine the fact that your snow leopard had gone very, very still the moment you’d crouched down and looked into those pretty eyes.

His snow leopard watched the impala closely, then softly purred, anxious to rub his scent all over the impala.