“Drake has lived in the forest for most of his entire life. We’re very primitive here. We react to things in nature. It sounds a little strange, but if you’re here a long time, you’ll understand.” His hands stilled on the knife he was sharpening. “I want you to stay a long time, Rachael.”

His gaze was direct as always. Rachael couldn’t have looked away if her life depended on it. His voice was so low she almost didn’t hear him. For a moment she couldn’t breathe, her chest so tight from a mixture of hope and fear. She almost blurted out her first thought. She wanted to stay—needed to stay. Had never wanted a man the way she wanted him. But death was poised over her head and it didn’t care who happened to be in the same vicinity.

“With me, Rachael. I want you to stay here with me.”

“You know I can’t, Rio. You know why.” Her fingers curled so tightly in the clouded leopard’s fur, Fritz lifted his head and looked at her with his lip curled.

“Then at least want to stay with me. If you could, would you want to be with me?” She belonged with him. He knew it with every breath he took. Knew it with every fiber of his being. How could she not know? Not feel it? It was so clear to him.

Rachael pulled her hand away from the cat and dragged the cover to her chin. A small protection, but it made her feel in control. Rio stood up in his lazy, languorous way, the one that always reminded her of a feline. Without hesitation he lay down beside her, fitting his body around hers, careful to keep from touching her leg.

The blanket was between them, but Rachael felt his body right through the thin weave. When she took a breath, she took him into her lungs. “You don’t know me any more than I know you. We can’t just pretend we don’t have pasts, Rio, as much as we’d like. I’m not the woman you seem to remember in your dreams, and you can’t be the man I remember. Things like that aren’t real.”

His fingers tangled in her hair. “How do you know they aren’t real? How do you know we weren’t together in a past life? Your hair felt just like this, but it was long, to your waist. When you braided it, the braid was nearly as thick as my forearm. I know the sound of your laughter, Rachael, but more importantly, I know what makes you laugh. I know what makes you sad. I know that you have an aversion to monkeys. How would I know that?” He wrapped her curls around his fingers and buried his face against the silken mass.