Elijah passed by on his shifting patrol and one of the women handed him a strawberry lemonade. His smile was genuine, but she couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. Did they know about his past? Probably. The men and women in the retirement valley seemed to know about everything—leopard or human. They were accepting, tolerant people who were willing for anyone to live out their lives. No one asked him questions and he was treated with open friendliness.

Isabeau inhaled sharply, wanting to remember every detail, the setting sun turning the sky into an orange-red flame, the forest a silhouette of dark trees and brush and especially the fragrances mingling in the air. She could sort them all out if she chose, the food, the forest and each individual. She knew exactly where Mary and Doc were at any given moment. She threaded her fingers through Conner’s as they strolled around the yard talking to the various guests.

Mary, Ruth and Monica insisted they cut the cake and feed each other a slice, and Isabeau did so, laughing at Conner’s wry expression. The wedding had been his suggestion, but he hadn’t counted on the women of the valley pulling off a traditional wedding. She rested her back against him and looked around her, committing her magical wedding to memory.

A wave of heat poured over her unexpectedly, nothing at all like the other times. This was hot and fast and robbed her of breath. She nearly dropped her plate with the slice of cake. There was no mere itching beneath her skin, but a strong pushing, the pressure tremendous. Very carefully she put the plate on the table, each motion precise. She tasted fear in her mouth. She knew the leopard was not going to wait much longer. Her skin felt too tight and her mouth and jaw ached, teeth sensitive. Her eyesight blurred, eyes aching.

“Conner,” she whispered his name like a talisman.

“What is it, beloved?” he asked, and looked down into her face.

She saw the instant recognition. Her eyes had taken on the glow of the cat at night, wholly leopard now. There was panic on her face, something she couldn’t help. She knew it was different this time. Her heartbeat was different. Her skin burned, the weight of the dress painful. She wanted to tear it off her body, dig her nails into her own skin and shred it, peel it away. The heat came in waves, washing over her so that she could barely breathe.

He put his cake plate beside hers, just as carefully as she had. “Don’t be afraid, Isabeau. I’ll be with you. You’ll experience running free, feeling nearly euphoric. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”