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cushioned the sounds so it seemed he was locked away from the rest of the world. Definitely not human,
the shapes inside the white veil took on the forms of large cats. As he stared at them, nonplussed by the
strange phenomenon, the cats seemed to turn to stare back, fixing glowing eyes on him. Red eyes. Eyes
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that flamed and seemed eerie and threatening in the midst of the fog. To reassure himself, Mike took a
firmer grip on the handle of his gun even as he took a step backward to flatten his body against the wall,
making himself as small as possible.
If it was an illusion, why was a cat moving forward, emerging out of the fog, staring intently, ferociously,
at him? Its ropes of heavy muscle rippled like fluid beneath its mottled fur; its head was down, yet it never
took its eyes off its prey. Mike tried to bring up the gun, his finger working at the trigger over and over in
a desperate attempt to kill the thing, but his hand seemed paralyzed. The gun must have jammed. Nothing
worked right.
He was still staring intently into the flame-red eyes when something hit him hard in the chest and he
coughed once. It was the last sound he ever made. The leopard was so strong that when it attacked it
crushed the man's chest even as its razor-sharp claws pierced his throat for the kill. The leopard dragged
the body of the man out from the doorway and into the yard toward the other human.
Drake was fighting his way through the terrible bands of fog toward where he believed Mike was
waiting. Coils of the stuff seemed to wrap around him as if he were a mummy. He thought he could feel
the coils brushing here and there against his body, yet when he tried to shove them away, his hands went
completely through the mist. It was a frightening feeling. He felt claustrophobic in the soupy stuff, and he
hated the insidious whispers coming from inside the fog.
"Mike?" he found himself whispering, moving his feet carefully, cautiously, feeling his way through the
grass. He was searching for the brickwork signaling he was close to the house. The toe of his boot hit
something solid. It didn't feel like brick. Gingerly he felt around the object with his foot. A sick feeling
began in the pit of his stomach. "Mike?" he whispered again as he bent down to feel with his hand.
Breath exploded from his lungs. It was Mike. Drake gasped aloud, swinging this way and that, his gun in
his hand, his eyes wild as he searched for the enemy. With his free hand he explored the body, looking
for a pulse. His palm landed in thick fur. He inhaled sharply, his hand moving of its own accord over the
shape of a skull. The whiskers, the open mouth with sharp canines. Drake tried to scream, but the cat
had already launched itself, burying its teeth deep in his unprotected throat before he could get off a
warning. A sound gurgled deep, then died away.
Dayan shape-shifted immediately, catching the man in his arms, placing the gun in his waistband as he
collected the second body. He took two running leaps with the men slung over his shoulders. Their
weight was nothing to him as he soared through the sky under cover of the thick fog. He took a moment
to snag the third body from the rooftop and once again headed for the forest miles out of the city.
It took minutes to dispose of the bodies the same way he had the other two. He incinerated them with a
lightning bolt before burying them deep and strewing vegetation over the site so that it seemed
undisturbed. The guns were buried deep in the earth with the ashes. Then Dayan returned to Corinne,
dropping silently out of the fog beside the car.
Chapter7
'I am here with you, honey.'Dayan made the calm announcement before he touched the door handle of
the car, afraid of startling her. He was a shadow in her mind, knew she was already afraid, and worried
about his safety. The fog was oppressive to her. He could feel how uncomfortable she was, sensed that
the baby was kicking strongly, but her heart and lungs were laboring. He sent the warmth of his love into
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her mind, strong and intense, his reassurance that he was in good health.
Corinne reached for the door even as he opened it. At once she flung herself into his arms, uncaring
what he might think. "I was so worried about you."
He held her tight, savoring the feel of her fragile body against his. "Breathe, honey. You scare me to
death when your heart tries to work so hard. I was never in any danger. Never. I told you that. You need
to listen to me when I say important things." He buried his mouth against her soft neck, inhaling her
fragrance, breathing evenly, willing her lungs to follow the steady pattern of his.
Corinne rubbed her face against his broad chest. "I never know what is actually important and what is
sheer nonsense," she admitted teasingly, trying desperately to lighten the mood when she really wanted to
cry in relief.
Dayan laughed softly, obliging her. "You are so good for my ego. Everyone else obeys me; I think you
should too."
She pulled reluctantly out of his arms and looked around in astonishment at the rapidly disintegrating fog
bank. It was melting away as if it had never been. "I'm the one everyone listens to, Dayan," she pointed
out, her mind puzzling over the peculiar phenomenon.
Dayan intertwined his fingers with hers to bring her back to him. He kept her locked firmly beneath his
shoulder as they walked toward the house. "And I am certain we all obey." She fit perfectly, her smaller
frame moving against his, soft and feminine, reminding him continually of their wonderful differences.
Corinne glanced up at him, studying his features, then ducked her head to hide her expression. His eyes
held warmth when they looked at her, but they took on a merciless stare when he looked away. He
seemed more animal than human. Even his movements, fluid and powerful, seemed inhuman. She
struggled to understand exactly what it was about him that she found intimidating.
Her heart, instead of matching the rhythm of his, was pounding very hard and fast. Her mouth was dry.
"Dayan."
"Why are you frightened of me when I treat you so gently?" His voice was soothing and tranquil. He
never sounded annoyed or irritated by her thoughts. Dayan took the keys to the front door out of her
hand and unlocked it.
Corinne thought a long time before she answered.
Just how afraid was she of Dayan? She looked up at him, at the rugged angles and planes of his face. At
his strong jaw. At his sculpted mouth. "I don't think I am, really," she mused aloud. "There's something
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