“I’m not worried about a room, Remy, just Bijou. Did somethin’ happen last night? Did you two fight? She wouldn’t . . .” She trailed off, looking more upset than ever.

He shook his head adamantly. “She wouldn’t do anything dumb. I’m goin’ after her. Using my leopard. He’ll track her.”

Saria’s eyes went wide with shock. “Those photographers have been by lookin’ for Bijou, Remy. You can’t take that chance. They know she’s here and for all we know they’re lurkin’ in the bushes, or have set up shop down the road with a zoom lens.”

He moved around the house to the back, away from the street. The property stretched down to the lake and edged the bayou on one side. Saria followed him. Remy ignored her, jerking off his shoes and tossing them aside.

“Are you serious?” Saria objected, trying again to reason with him. “Remy, it’s too dangerous. She wouldn’t want you doin’ this.”

“I’m strippin’, little sister, so if you don’ want an eyeful, you might want to leave.”

“You’re so stubborn!” Exasperated, she threw her hands into the air and turned her back on him. “If you get yourself killed, that’s not goin’ to help Bijou.”

He didn’t reply. Already his leopard raked and clawed for freedom, eager to find her. Fur ran beneath his skin, a wave that itched beyond reason. His knuckles ached and the tips of his fingers burned and throbbed. Joints popped, painful to the point that he squatted, unable to stand while he tried to grasp his jeans to get the material off his burning skin. His vision had already begun to blur, to change color, and his sense of smell heightened.

“At least let me make certain no one’s around before you go out onto the street,” Saria said, desperation edging her voice. “I wish Drake was here to talk sense into you.”

Drake couldn’t have stopped him. No one could. The need to find Bijou had grown so strong it was beyond a compulsion. He shed the rest of his clothes and willed the change, embracing his leopard, calling him out. He’d always been fast at shifting, but his leopard had been so eager to emerge that it had taken longer to remove his clothing, but now he had barely time enough to circle his neck with his pack and boots. His was nearly all leopard by the time he stashed his weapons in his pack and zipped it closed, just making it before his hands curved and claws burst through skin.

Black fur, darker rosettes set deep, covered roped muscles and powerful legs. He forced his leopard to wait for Saria’s call. He counted heartbeats, his breath huffing out in deep chest breaths as he tried for restraint, concentrating on the actual math in his head. Waiting. Snarling. His nose already scenting, whiskers acting like radar.

“Clear, Remy,” Saria called.