Saria didn’t reply. She simply looked at him, and there was accusation in her eyes. He knew he’d made a mistake jumping to Bijou’s defense when Saria hadn’t actually said anything disparaging. He didn’t make mistakes like that—and Saria knew it. He cursed silently in his native Cajun French, keeping his expression blank.

“Remy . . . no. You are not goin’ to chase after her. I mean it. You’ve already made her cry.” She regarded with him with her dark brown eyes, her steady stare a mix of leopard and human, eyes already taking on the glow of her leopard. “I hear her at night. She won’t talk to me about it so I know she’s cryin’ over you.”

“I hear her too,” Remy admitted, stretching, trying to ease sore muscles. Saria’s couch was very comfortable and he wished he’d been sleeping on it. He was getting too old to be sleeping in a little chair on a cold balcony, which he’d done for three nights running. “What makes you think I have anything at all to do with her cryin’?”

“Because I know you, Remy. You make people confess to anythin’ and you no doubt made that poor girl cry.” Saria put both hands on her hips and stared him down. “You’ve been grillin’ that girl about something and she’s upset.” She leveled her glare at him. “You haven’t touched her, have you?”

“That’s none of your business, ma soeur. She’s got a stalker after her. She’s not takin’ it very seriously, but, Saria, I’m tellin’ you this man is dangerous and he’s not going to stop. He’s extremely dangerous, the kind that ends up killin’ the woman if he can’t have her.”

Saria was silent for a moment, but those cat’s eyes never left his face. She shook her head again. “What are you up to, Remy?”

“He’s not going to like her havin’ a man in her life. He’ll get mad and make a mistake, and I’ll be there to take him down.”

“No.” Saria stated the word quite fiercely.

For a woman so much younger than he was, Remy had to admire her courage. He wasn’t a man most people—man or woman—ever chose to go up against. His little sister had no such qualms. He raised his eyebrow and remained silent.

“I mean it, Remy. She’s . . . susceptible. You can’t pretend to be her boyfriend just to bring some stalker out into the open. I know you. You’ll decide she can’t know because she won’t act natural. You can’t pretend to care for her . . .”