the Midnight Mystery Lounge that she might as well be on the far side of the planet.
“When you’re as insanely wealthy as the Royale, I suppose you can create whatever playground you like.”
The brush rustled and a familiar white tail flickered into view before vanishing again. The cats were pacing closer to their location.
“And your cats stay here?”
“Yes, they do.”
Her stomach clenched. Did tigers climb? Weren’t they one of the few species that preferred the ground to the trees? Or was that lions?
A broad forehead pushed aside fat leaves to rub her silver-and-black head against Anthony’s leg. He dropped his hand to rub her ears. The female brushed past Anthony to stroke her furry head to Roseâtre’s bare thigh.
Her mouth went dry.
“Nalini likes you and she’s just saying hello.” Despite Anthony’s assurances, Roseâtre’s palms were damp when she tried to mimic his comforting stroke to the cat’s ears. The female seemed to like it though, butting her head back under her hand and demanding more attention.
“She’s the cat I’ve been practicing with all week.” They did look all the same, but Roseâtre noticed the numerous differences between Nalini and Anthony’s cat. “Are you all weres?”
“No.”
Unlike his normal droll response, the answer was short, clipped and warned against further inquiry. He snapped his fingers and Nalini mrowled a noise before bounding into the brush. The half-remembered warmth of her fur on Roseâtre’s hand the only mark of her presence.
“Let’s eat.” Anthony strolled toward the trees, following some path that must be visible only to cat eyes before pausing. “Oh, and lose the shoes so you don’t break that sexy little neck of yours.”
He continued up the path, leaving her to decide whether to follow or not. But she slid out of the shoes. She had no choice in that matter. It was an order.
Damn the key.
The ground was warm and soft under her feet. She padded after him, the tropical setting relaxing the wariness from her spine. The muscles in her legs were sore and tired. The constant rehearsal of a new routine took days for her body to acclimate. The repetitive leg lifts and the need to grip his tiger’s back once she mounted left her thighs quivering.
For more than one reason.
She waved the lusty thought aside. Anthony vanished ahead of her, hidden by the lush curtains of nature. The deeper they plowed, the farther away the casino seemed.
The trees gave way to a grotto housing a large pool of water, agitated by the waterfall spilling into it. Rocks, small and large, sprawled along the shore. Above, next to the falls, Nalini yowled a greeting, and she wasn’t alone. Three more tigers appeared around the pool, rumbling sounds of welcome and looks of curiosity on their faces. This was their land.
Roseâtre was the interloper.
Amidst the tropical paradise, a table-shaped rock sat a few feet from the water, with comfortable chairs surrounding it. Platters of food were set up, each covered by a dull brass lid, rather than silver.
“Oh.” The sound burst out of her and she wanted to slap herself upside the head. No wonder Anthony hated her silver stilettos. “You’re a were.”
He paused, a grin quirking the corner of his generous mouth. “You just figured that out?”
“Yes. I mean, no. The shoes. It’s why you don’t like most of my shoes. They have silver stilettos.”
Patient amusement creased the lines around his eyes. Anthony gestured to the table. “Hungry?”
Despite where his hand pointed and the humor in his eyes, he wasn’t just asking about food. Desire needled through her and Roseâtre sighed.
No more avoiding this elephant in the room.
Or tiger, it would seem.
“What do you want from me?” She stayed at the edge of the clearing, far enough away that even if she wanted to touch him, she’d have to move to do it.
“Is that a trick question?” He fell into one of the chairs, legs stretching out. His pose
“When you’re as insanely wealthy as the Royale, I suppose you can create whatever playground you like.”
The brush rustled and a familiar white tail flickered into view before vanishing again. The cats were pacing closer to their location.
“And your cats stay here?”
“Yes, they do.”
Her stomach clenched. Did tigers climb? Weren’t they one of the few species that preferred the ground to the trees? Or was that lions?
A broad forehead pushed aside fat leaves to rub her silver-and-black head against Anthony’s leg. He dropped his hand to rub her ears. The female brushed past Anthony to stroke her furry head to Roseâtre’s bare thigh.
Her mouth went dry.
“Nalini likes you and she’s just saying hello.” Despite Anthony’s assurances, Roseâtre’s palms were damp when she tried to mimic his comforting stroke to the cat’s ears. The female seemed to like it though, butting her head back under her hand and demanding more attention.
“She’s the cat I’ve been practicing with all week.” They did look all the same, but Roseâtre noticed the numerous differences between Nalini and Anthony’s cat. “Are you all weres?”
“No.”
Unlike his normal droll response, the answer was short, clipped and warned against further inquiry. He snapped his fingers and Nalini mrowled a noise before bounding into the brush. The half-remembered warmth of her fur on Roseâtre’s hand the only mark of her presence.
“Let’s eat.” Anthony strolled toward the trees, following some path that must be visible only to cat eyes before pausing. “Oh, and lose the shoes so you don’t break that sexy little neck of yours.”
He continued up the path, leaving her to decide whether to follow or not. But she slid out of the shoes. She had no choice in that matter. It was an order.
Damn the key.
The ground was warm and soft under her feet. She padded after him, the tropical setting relaxing the wariness from her spine. The muscles in her legs were sore and tired. The constant rehearsal of a new routine took days for her body to acclimate. The repetitive leg lifts and the need to grip his tiger’s back once she mounted left her thighs quivering.
For more than one reason.
She waved the lusty thought aside. Anthony vanished ahead of her, hidden by the lush curtains of nature. The deeper they plowed, the farther away the casino seemed.
The trees gave way to a grotto housing a large pool of water, agitated by the waterfall spilling into it. Rocks, small and large, sprawled along the shore. Above, next to the falls, Nalini yowled a greeting, and she wasn’t alone. Three more tigers appeared around the pool, rumbling sounds of welcome and looks of curiosity on their faces. This was their land.
Roseâtre was the interloper.
Amidst the tropical paradise, a table-shaped rock sat a few feet from the water, with comfortable chairs surrounding it. Platters of food were set up, each covered by a dull brass lid, rather than silver.
“Oh.” The sound burst out of her and she wanted to slap herself upside the head. No wonder Anthony hated her silver stilettos. “You’re a were.”
He paused, a grin quirking the corner of his generous mouth. “You just figured that out?”
“Yes. I mean, no. The shoes. It’s why you don’t like most of my shoes. They have silver stilettos.”
Patient amusement creased the lines around his eyes. Anthony gestured to the table. “Hungry?”
Despite where his hand pointed and the humor in his eyes, he wasn’t just asking about food. Desire needled through her and Roseâtre sighed.
No more avoiding this elephant in the room.
Or tiger, it would seem.
“What do you want from me?” She stayed at the edge of the clearing, far enough away that even if she wanted to touch him, she’d have to move to do it.
“Is that a trick question?” He fell into one of the chairs, legs stretching out. His pose
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