Page 85 of Beasts of Mine

Then I heard a human voice, and my hand went immediately to the radio clipped at my waist. The sound came from somewhere ahead, partially muffled by stone and vegetation, but there was no mistaking it for anything produced by the blessing. One man was talking, and another male voice answered him.

There shouldn't have been anyone out here. Mara hadn't mentioned another research team, there were no maintained trails or camps marked on the map, and I hadn't seen evidence that another person had been anywhere near this part of the forest. Two unknown men inside unmarked ruins several miles from the research station was a problem.

I moved quietly toward the sound. Approaching unknown men alone in the rainforest wasn't an intelligent choice, but neither was ignoring strangers close enough to eventually stumble across my field camp. The old path curved around a collapsed wall, and the voices became clearer.

“She's already seen too much,” one man said from somewhere beyond the stone, his frustrated tone carrying a familiarity that made me hesitate.

“I know,” another man answered from farther inside the ruins, his lower, calmer voice reaching me through the vegetation. Both voices bothered me because I knew them—or thought I did—and that made absolutely no sense. Something moved beyond the wall, and I leaned just far enough around the broken edge to see into a small courtyard.

Menace stood in the center. Relief came first, followed almost immediately by confusion. The courtyard was small enough that I could see nearly all of it, and there were no men anywhere. No tents, no packs, no research equipment. Only Menace standing beside a partially collapsed section of stone wall.

“What the hell?” I whispered to myself, staring at him as he turned his head toward the opposite side of the courtyard.

Then his body changed. There was no burst of light or cloud of smoke, and nothing dramatic enough to let me pretend I'd misunderstood what I was seeing. His spotted shoulders shifted as his body pulled upward, fur disappearing beneath skin as the shape of him changed with impossible speed. His legs lengthened, paws became hands, and the leopard I'd spent days arguing with rose onto two human feet.

For several seconds, I couldn't process what I was seeing. The man standing where Menace had been was tall and lean but powerfully built, with deep bronze-brown skin and dark hair falling messily around his forehead. Scars crossed one shoulder and disappeared along his ribs, details I registered without understanding why I was noticing any of them.

Then he turned.

Amber eyes.

The same bright, expressive amber I'd been looking into for days.

My hand fell away from the radio.

The man—Menace, because there was no question that it was him—reached into a covered recess in the wall and pulled out a pair of loose dark trousers. He stepped into them quickly, dragged the fabric upward, and looked toward the opening where I stood. Our gazes met, and we both stopped. His face changed, and that was familiar too. It was the same caught look I'd seen whenever I discovered him doing something he knew perfectly well he wasn't supposed to be doing.

“No,” I whispered to Menace, staring as his hands stopped at his waistband and his amber eyes widened.

“Well, that's not how that was supposed to happen,” Menace said, pulling the trousers fully into place as caution replaced the surprise on his face. His voice was new, but the way he spoke wasn't. The teasing edge beneath the words, the restless energy, the confidence that survived even while he'd clearly been caught doing something catastrophic—it was all him.

“You're Menace,” I said to him, pointing at the man in front of me because that was apparently the first thing my mind had decided needed confirmation.

“Yeah. That's me,” Menace admitted, slowly lifting both hands where I could see them as the last of his amusement disappeared.

“You were a leopard,” I told Menace, staring at him as every memory from the last several days tried to rearrange itself at once.

“Yes, and I can explain that,” Menace answered carefully, keeping his hands visible as he watched me.

“You're a man,” I told Menace, hearing how obvious the statement was and not caring in the slightest.

“I am,” Menace replied, shifting his weight without trying to move closer. I kept staring at him, unable to connect the human man in front of me with the leopard who had spent days stealing my belongings, bringing me flowers, and inserting himself into my photography.

“This isn't making sense,” I told Menace, lowering my pointing hand as the shock started turning into something less manageable.

“I know. I can explain it,” Menace replied, taking one cautious half-step before stopping the instant my shoulders tensed.

“Don't,” I warned Menace, raising one hand sharply as the other hovered near my radio.

He stopped immediately.

Good.

At least supernatural leopard-men understood that word. I backed up until my shoulder touched damp stone.

Evie, Cat said from behind me, his familiar leopard voice reaching me through the fading blessing with the same clarity it always had.

I spun toward him. Cat stood on the path, and relief hit automatically because Cat meant familiar. Cat meant safe. Then he looked past me toward Menace, and something passed silently between them without either moving.