Summary: Leticia adopts a telepathic Jaguar
Lettie had always been drawn to big cats. Her fascination had grown into a passion, evident by the two pumas she already owned. But as she stared at the photo on her phone, something about the black jaguar with piercing green eyes captured her entirely. The cat exuded power and mystery, its intense gaze seeming to reach through the screen and demand her attention.
It was rare. It was beautiful. It was enormous. Even through the safety of her phone, a shiver ran down Lettie’s spine. Her powers had always given her control over animals, yet something about this creature made her hesitate. Still, those eyes called to her.
Fastening her ancestral necklace—a source of her strength—around her neck, she grabbed her purse and headed for the Chief’s house.
A hush fell over the gathered crowd as Lettie stepped into the Chief’s hall. She had that effect on people. Her afro, a crown of natural coils, framed her proud and radiant face. The light cotton dress she wore hugged her figure, leaving little to the imagination. She felt the weight of their stares—a mix of reverence and desire—as she strode confidently across the room, the soft click of her heels echoing on the floor.
The black jaguar lay chained near the center of the hall. Though subdued, its presence commanded awe and fear. The guards kept a wide berth, their wariness palpable. As Lettie approached, the cat raised its head, fixing her with those hypnotic green eyes. She faltered for just a moment, a deep instinct warning her that this was no ordinary animal. But voicing such a thought would only fuel the whispers that already branded her a witch.
Taking a steadying breath, Lettie removed her heels and stepped closer. She pressed a hand to her necklace, a motion that usually preceded her rituals.
“There’s no need for theatrics,” a deep, clear voice echoed in her mind. “I’ll go with you quietly. But feel free to put on a show for these bloodsuckers.”
Lettie froze, her eyes darting to the jaguar. “You can… speak?” she whispered, barely moving her lips.
“Don’t be afraid. I need your help.”
Suppressing her shock, Lettie went through the motions of a ritual, her hands moving deliberately but with little energy behind them. The gathered men watched intently, their gazes heavy and expectant. When she decided her performance had been convincing enough, she straightened and turned to the Chief.
“It is done. I will take the jaguar off your hands.”
The Chief nodded, and the guards hesitantly unhooked the chain leash. Lettie took it, her movements calm and deliberate. As she left the hall, the jaguar padded silently behind her, its presence a constant reminder of the strange bond they now shared.
The walk home was uneventful but tense. Lettie could feel the weight of the jaguar’s gaze on her back. Every so often, she glanced over her shoulder, only to find those green eyes fixed on her. When they finally arrived, she stopped just inside the door and turned to him.
“I assume you don’t want to stay in the pen with the other cats,” she said, half-joking.
“I’m not an animal,” the voice replied, tinged with irritation.
Lettie blinked, a nervous laugh escaping her. “You sure look like one.”
The jaguar didn’t respond, but its eyes narrowed slightly, almost as if it were rolling them. Shaking her head, Lettie fetched a large blanket and spread it out in a corner of the room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll figure out what to do with you tomorrow.”
She changed into her nightshirt, her mind racing with questions she wasn’t ready to confront. When she glanced back at the jaguar, it was curled up on the blanket, its head resting on its paws. For a moment, her heart softened. Whatever it was, this creature had endured more than she could imagine.
Lettie woke the next morning to sunlight streaming through her window. Stretching, she tried to recall when she’d moved from the couch to her bed. She must have been more tired than she realized. Yawning, she glanced toward the corner where she’d left the jaguar, only to find the blanket untouched. The cat lay exactly as it had the night before, unmoving.
With a start, she realized she had only half an hour to get to work. Throwing off her covers, she rushed to the bathroom, showering and dressing in record time. Just as she was about to leave, she remembered the jaguar. She emptied a can of tuna into a bowl and placed it in front of him.
“I’ll bring something better on my way home,” she muttered before running out the door.
As soon as she was gone, the jaguar stirred. Its form shimmered, stretching and shifting until a man stood in its place. Pierre groaned, rolling his shoulders as his bones settled back into their human alignment. Two months in that form had been grueling.
His gaze fell to the bowl of tuna, and a wry smile tugged at his lips. “Tuna. Really?” he muttered. Wrapping the bowl in a bag, he set it aside, already planning to dispose of it later. He had more pressing matters to attend to. A package containing fresh clothes would be arriving shortly, and he needed to clean up before moving forward with his mission.
He looked at the clock. In approximately 10 minutes, the clothes he had asked to have delivered to this address would arrive. He needed a thorough bath, but couldn't touch any of her toiletries. He made a face as he realized he might have to use a public bath in the meantime. The doorbell rang as he was stepping out of the bathroom. He allowed the water to dry up on his skin, not wanting to risk leaving his scent on her towel and alarming her.
He grabbed the box off the porch and dug out two changes of clothes. Looking around the apartment, he chuckled. She was messy. Every single clothing item she had discarded in a hurry lay littered where she had dropped them. Perhaps, he would be able to hide his meager items somewhere in here without being detected until he was ready to leave. He dressed and tucked the rest of his clothes deep in the wardrobe. Stepping back, he noticed a tiny brown knot of cotton. Squatting on his hunches, he idly fingered it. A series of images flashed through his mind. He remembered the way her ass cheeks had swallowed the tiny fabric leaving a small triangle at the top of her crack. He remembered the perfect triangle of her thigh gap and his dick jumped. When he watched her undress last night, all he wanted to do was run his tongue all over her body. She was a sexpot with those high boobs, almost non existent waist and large round hips.
He rubbed his hand over his face as he tried to clear his head. He had to stay away from her. He couldn't risk it. Glancing at the clock, he thought about finding a willing girl to take the edge off, but decided against it. The sooner he completed his task, the better. He opened a window and climbed out, carefully closing it in a way that wouldn't make it obvious that it was unlocked.
By the time Lettie returned home that evening, Pierre was once again in his jaguar form, lounging on the blanket. The empty bowl sat nearby, its surface licked clean. Lettie smiled, dropping her bags and kneeling beside him to scratch behind his ears. The jaguar’s exaggerated purr filled the room, and for the first time since their strange encounter, Lettie allowed herself to relax.
“I take it you had a good day?” she asked, her tone light.
“I can’t complain,” came the dry reply. “Though a jaguar isn’t meant to laze around and eat tuna all day.”
Lettie laughed, the sound filling the small apartment. For now, she decided, she would let the mystery wait. Whatever Pierre was, he wasn’t going anywhere—and neither was she.
Chapter Two
"I can't complain. Though a jaguar isn't exactly meant to lie in one place and eat tuna all day," the jaguar replied, stretching lazily.
"Would you like to leave?" Leticia shot back, raising an eyebrow as she scooped ground beef into bowls.
The jaguar flicked its tail but offered no answer. Leticia grinned, carrying the bowls outside. A pair of pumas prowled near the edge of the clearing, their golden eyes glinting in the fading light.
"Here you go, darlings," she murmured, setting the bowls down. The pumas padded forward with a rumble of approval.
When she re-entered the apartment, she paused to survey the spotless floor. "I must admire how tidy you are. Not a crumb of tuna anywhere. I appreciate it."
The jaguar tilted its head, a flicker of amusement in its gaze.
"Are you hungry?" Leticia asked as she unbuttoned her work shirt, her voice casual.
"No, thank you," he said, his tone polite but distant.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow. "You’re okay with eating a can of tuna all day?"
"I don’t want to eat through your meager earnings," Pierre replied evenly. "I ate a lot in the wild. I can manage rationed meals for now."
Leticia chuckled softly. "Wow. You should have a chat with my pumas. They eat like I owe them."
Pierre tilted his head. "Well, you’re their owner. You should feed them."
Leticia finished changing into a light, breezy dress and sat cross-legged on the couch, facing him. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "What about you?"
He stared at her blankly.
"Am I your owner?" she asked with a small smile, her tone playful but probing.
"Do you feel like you own me?" His voice was low, serious. It made her pause, head tilting as she considered the question.
"Well," she began thoughtfully, "you’re not under my control, but you’re living in my house and eating my food. I offer you protection and care for you. If you ever got into trouble, I’d have to answer for you. So... I do own you."
"I could leave," Pierre said, his gaze unwavering. "Like you said, I’m not bound to you."
"Do you want to leave?" she asked, leaning forward slightly.
Pierre's eyes narrowed. "I don’t intend to grow old in this tiny apartment."
"This tiny apartment is keeping you safe," Leticia countered, her tone firm but not unkind.
"The moment you step outside without me, you’re going to be hunted."
"Do you intend to take care of me for the rest of my life, then?"
"I am responsible for you," she said simply. Her voice softened, and for the first time, there was a flicker of vulnerability. "I care about what happens to you. I don’t want to see you hurt. I’ll keep you for as long as I have to, until I know you’re out of danger. Then we can decide where to go from there."
Pierre studied her intently. Small as she was, she radiated a fierce strength that made it clear she was not to be underestimated.
He had learned a little about her tribe before embarking on this journey. Guardians, they called themselves—defenders of nature’s delicate balance against those who sought to exploit it.
"Why cats?" he asked suddenly.
Leticia blinked. "What?"
"Why do you have so many cats?" he clarified, his expression curious.
She laughed softly, the sound warm and unguarded. "Oh, that’s kind of a long story..."
And she began to tell him about her life—about her tribe, her purpose, and the unexpected bond she’d formed with the creatures she now called family.
Leticia spoke at length about her family, the discovery of her gift, and the struggles of balancing her life after. She recounted how she decided to narrow her practice, her voice steady but reflective. Pierre listened intently, his occasional hums or murmured encouragements keeping her going. It struck her that she was sharing things she had never told anyone before.
When Leticia woke the next morning, the faint cooing of mourning doves outside her window heralded the dawn. She squinted at the clock. 5:00 a.m.
"Too early," she muttered, her body protesting after the late-night conversation. She rubbed her eyes and stretched, then paused. She had no memory of crawling under the comforter she now tossed aside.
As she padded toward her dresser, she glanced at Pierre. He lay curled up in his corner, serene for such a powerful creature. Watching him, she found herself wondering about his story. Where had he come from? And why hadn’t she thought to ask his name before?
By the time the apartment was clean, the clock read well past six. The vacuum had hummed around Pierre's sleeping form, and Leticia grinned at how much space he occupied. "Later," she thought, "he’ll have to move."
She approached him, crouching low. "Hey," she whispered, nudging his shoulder gently. "Would you like to take a walk? You’ve been here for days now, and I haven’t seen you, uh... go."
Pierre groaned and opened one golden eye, glaring at her with what could only be described as feline exasperation. "Charmed that you asked," he said drily. "Given the only food you’ve offered me is dead fish from a can, I’d be worried about dysentery too."
Leticia gasped. "Cats are sassy, but this is next level. Are you some kind of test from the elders?" She exhaled sharply, gathering her composure.
Pierre smirked. "I’m kidding. The tuna was fine. But yes, a walk sounds nice. Just don’t ever say ‘go’ to me again."
"Fair enough," Leticia said, raising an eyebrow. "What’s your name, anyway?"
"Pierre," he said simply.
"French," she mused with a grin. "That explains the attitude."
"I’m not French," he retorted. "And I don’t have an attitude."
"Sure. Whatever you say, Monsieur Pierre."
As Leticia dressed, Pierre turned to leave but lingered, caught by the sight of her pulling a simple cotton bra and matching hipsters from her drawer. The thought of her wearing them tugged at him, unbidden and persistent. He shook his head, padding toward the door, muttering, "Focus."
When she finally left for work, her smile—a dazzling, disarming thing—reminded him painfully of Nia. His heart clenched. Pierre lay back on his duvet, her smile and the sound of her heels clicking away etched into his mind. Somewhere, Nia's fate awaited him. He closed his eyes, knowing his task here was far from over.
The sun glinted off a pair of bifocal lenses. Parked along the street, a dull black sedan sat inconspicuously, its windows rolled down just enough to let in the cool evening air. Inside, two heavy-set men sat in silence, their eyes trained on the entrance of the complex where Leticia worked.
"She’ll be out soon," the driver muttered, glancing at his watch.
"Better be," the passenger grunted. Weeks of surveillance had taught them Leticia's schedule down to the minute. And now, as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, they knew it was only a matter of time before she appeared.
Sure enough, Leticia stepped out to the curb, her bag slung casually over one shoulder. She glanced up and down the street before raising a hand to flag down a taxi. A bright yellow cab pulled up almost immediately. She climbed in, her mind already drifting to thoughts of home—her cats, her pumas, and maybe even Pierre’s sardonic wit.
The sedan's engine roared to life as the cab pulled away. The two men exchanged a nod before easing into traffic, keeping a careful distance as they tailed the unsuspecting Guardian.
Pierre sat motionless in his feline form, his sharp eyes fixed on the doorway. The faint hum of an approaching taxi reached his ears first, stirring a flicker of anticipation. Leticia was home. But then came the unmistakable sound of a second vehicle—a car pulling up farther down the street. Pierre’s ears twitched, his muscles tensing as his sharp hearing separated the distinct noises.
He heard the rhythmic clack of Leticia’s heels as she exited the cab and began her short walk to the house. But beneath that familiar rhythm, two other presences caught his attention—two sets of footsteps, slow and deliberate, trailing behind her.
The fur along his spine bristled. He focused, extending his supernatural senses to probe the minds behind the footsteps. The thoughts he encountered chilled him.
We’ll wait until she’s inside. Less chance of drawing attention.
She’ll talk. They always do once they know what’s at stake.
Their intentions were clear—and sinister. Leticia was being followed, and they had no plans for a friendly conversation.
Pierre’s golden eyes narrowed as he weighed his options.
He could let them enter the house, let the situation play out under his control. Killing them swiftly and efficiently would alert Leticia to the danger she was in, forcing her to be more cautious moving forward. But there was a risk—he couldn’t interrogate them without revealing himself to her, something he wasn’t ready to do just yet.
Alternatively, he could intercept them before they reached the house. A silent ambush would keep Leticia oblivious to the threat and allow him to extract the information he needed without complication. Yet, it also meant she’d remain unaware of the danger lurking around her—a vulnerability that unsettled him.
Pierre growled low in his throat, his claws flexing against the soft fibers of the rug. He hated this game of restraint, but it was necessary. His goal was bigger than one moment of action, and every move he made had to bring him closer to the answers he sought.
Leticia Leticia opened her front door to find an empty room, and her heart dropped.
"Pierre!" she choked, her voice trembling with fear.
A torrent of thoughts flooded her mind. Had the chief decided he couldn’t trust me to handle such a predator? Did he send men to kill him after all?
She glanced at the keys in her hand—the lock was intact. Her house was exactly as she’d left it: cluttered, untouched. Her eyes darted to the window, now slightly ajar, the curtains shifting gently in the breeze.
Frowning, she calmed a little. Maybe he’d left on his own. But why?
She toyed with the idea of taking one of her pumas out to search for him. Yet, a playful thought crossed her mind: If he left to ease himself, he’d be mortified if I found him mid-act. The image of his indignant, sarcastic reaction brought a giggle to her lips, and she felt herself relax.
“I’ll give him some time,” she muttered to herself. “If he doesn’t come back, then I’ll go looking.”
Pierre Stretching his powerful legs, Pierre leaped out of the window with fluid grace, landing silently in the darkening streets. He melted into the shadows, tracking his prey with ease.
The men were oblivious to his presence, their focus on the glowing window above. They murmured softly to each other, not sensing the predator lurking just beyond their vision.
Moments later, Pierre lunged from the tree he’d climbed, his massive body colliding with both men. The impact drove the wind from their lungs, sending them sprawling to the ground. He wasted no time. Grabbing each by the collar, he dragged them into the dense woods nearby, their muffled protests and groans echoing faintly.
Once they were far enough from the road, Pierre released them, stepping back as they gasped for air. Before their horrified eyes, his form began to shift. Muscles rippled, fur receded, and in seconds, Pierre stood before them in his human form, towering and imposing.
The men froze, their eyes widening in a mix of terror and understanding.
“I take it you’re looking for me,” Pierre said coldly, his voice low and menacing.
The men remained silent, their fear paralyzing them.
With a sigh of irritation, Pierre extended a single claw, dragging it down the shorter man’s cheek in a slow, deliberate motion. Blood welled and trickled down, and the man let out a muffled scream, his body writhing.
“Answer me quickly,” Pierre drawled, his icy blue eyes glinting in the faint light. “And I might make this painless. I don’t have all night.”
Both men exchanged a glance, and Pierre noticed their subtle shift too late. A faint crack broke the tense silence as they bit into tiny vials hidden behind their molars.
“No!” Pierre growled, lunging forward. He gripped them both by the throats, shaking them violently as their bodies began to convulse. Froth spilled from their lips, their eyes rolling back until they went limp in his grasp.
He dropped them with a snarl, his hands clenched in frustration. The bodies lay still, their secrets locked away forever.
Pierre stared down at them, his chest heaving. The fury boiling inside him was matched only by his growing unease. Someone had sent these men, and now he was no closer to finding out who—or why.
He straightened, his icy gaze scanning the shadows. If they thought this would stop him, they were sorely mistaken.
Leticia had just started pacing again when a scratching sound came from her door.
“Pierre?” she gasped, rushing toward it.
“Open the door, human,” came the lazy drawl she now recognized in her mind.
Rolling her eyes, she unlocked the door and stepped aside as Pierre sauntered in. He padded to his usual corner, stretched languidly, and flopped down, closing his eyes as though the day had utterly exhausted him.
Leticia suppressed a disappointed sigh. She had been hoping to talk to him, but it seemed he wasn’t in the mood. Resigned, she picked up a book and curled into her chair to read.
“How was your day?” His voice startled her. She looked over to see him still stretched out, eyes closed, his tail flicking lazily.
A smile broke across her face as she set her book down. “It was okay. Work wasn’t too bad. Everyone behaved, so I didn’t have to curse anyone out.”
Pierre scoffed. “It’s hard to picture you cursing anyone out. You look like an insufferable peacemaker.”
“Only you could use insufferable and peacemaker in the same sentence,” she shot back, grinning. “But I am a peacemaker. I just curse people out when it’s necessary.”
“Of course,” Pierre said, amusement lacing his tone.
Leticia’s eyes widened. “Did you just chuckle?”
Pierre froze briefly. “What if I did?”
“That would mean you have a sense of humor. What exactly are you?”
“What do you think I am?”
Leticia leaned forward, her brow furrowed. “This whole time, I’ve been thinking you were enhanced by some spell or experiment. I’ve come across creatures altered by sorcerers or voodoo practitioners, poor things. My job as a guardian is to protect them. But I’ve never met anyone—or anything—like you. You almost sound human.”
Pierre raised a brow. “Almost?”
“No, you’re definitely a cat,” Leticia teased. “That attitude is unmistakable. But your words… they’re so human-like. And now you can laugh? That’s a bit jarring.”
“You don’t think cats can laugh?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well,” Pierre said, yawning and flicking his tongue over his sharp canines, “you should probably look for another animal to guard. Clearly, you know nothing about cats.” He rolled onto his back, kicking his paws into the air and rubbing his fur against the soft blanket.
Leticia watched him with amusement. “Yep,” she muttered, “definitely a cat.”
Just as she thought he was drifting off, his voice sounded in her mind again.
“You should pay more attention to your surroundings.”
“What?” She frowned, confused.
“When I was out taking a walk earlier, I saw you come home. A man was following you.”
“Oh, probably an admirer,” she said, waving it off. “I get that a lot.”
“I doubt that.”
“You doubt I have admirers?” she asked, mock-offended.
“I doubt this particular man was an admirer. He had a bad scent.”
“So, you don’t think he’s an admirer because you didn’t like how he smelled?” she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Just be careful,” he replied, ignoring her jab.
Something about his words tugged at her heart. “Aww, you care about me,” she teased, her voice light.
“I just don’t want anything to happen to my landlady while I’m staying here,” he replied flatly.
“Oh, please. I know you care!” Leticia chuckled and turned back to her book.
Pierre didn’t respond, but the flick of his tail suggested she wasn’t entirely wrong.
As Pierre drifted off, his mind flashed to the bodies he had dragged deep into the woods. Instead of leaving them as he initially planned, he had taken the time to bury them, ensuring no trace would lead back to Leticia or himself.
It wasn’t ideal—he wanted answers, not corpses—but the men had made their choice. Their deaths weren’t entirely in vain, though; he had learned enough from their thoughts before they ended their own lives to know the danger was closing in.
Pierre stretched out on his blanket, his claws flexing reflexively. He would need to work faster. The last thing he wanted was for Leticia to be caught in the crossfire. She didn’t deserve that. For now, she was safe, but he knew the illusion wouldn’t last forever.
Chapter Three
Leticia was just clearing her table when a man who looked to be in his early forties walked into her office. He wore a bespoke three-piece suit, the charcoal fabric subtly shimmering under the light, exuding wealth and affluence. He had small tinted shades over his eyes, but the rest of his face was strikingly handsome. Leticia’s body reacted to him instantly, and she cursed her busy lifestyle and lack of a date in a couple of years. Reining in her body’s physical reaction, she fixed a professional smile on her face and greeted him.
“Hello, you’re welcome to Leticia Barma Events. How may I be of service?”
“Hello. I take it you’re Leticia then?”
His voice was smooth and rich. Leticia liked the way he said her name, as though savoring each syllable. She allowed her smile to widen just a tad more.
“Yes, I am. How can I help you?”
“The anniversary of my wife’s death is coming up one month from now. I’d like you to plan it.” He took off his glasses, and Leticia’s heart broke at what she saw. His brown, soulful eyes were red, like he’d just finished crying. He looked lost. Leticia made a fist to keep herself from reaching out to touch him.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr…?”
“Gerald. Gerald Hayes.” He extended his hand, and Leticia shook it, noting how firm his grip was.
“Don’t be,” he continued, his voice steady but distant. “I’ll see her again.”
“Of course. We’ll see our dead loved ones again eventually,” she said as she withdrew her hand.
He smiled at her, and she smiled back.
“This is closing hours already. Would you like to book a consultation so we can go over the details together? One month is not a lot of time. We have to speed things up to be able to deliver exactly what you want.”
Gerald inclined his head as if considering her words. “Why don’t we discuss this over dinner? I’d like to start planning as soon as possible. Please, pick a place that suits you.”
Leticia mulled this over. She’d had business brunches and dinners before, but for some reason, she hesitated this time. She blamed it on the unmistakable attraction she felt for him. She wasn’t a shy person, but his gaze was so intent that it left her self-conscious, a rare feeling that made her itch to glance at her reflection in the nearest mirror.
Her thoughts flickered to her cats. She’d fed them generously that morning—Pierre, in particular, had enjoyed a fat slab of medium-rare meat. They’d be fine for the night, especially with the window left open for him.
She grabbed the last of her things, picking up her notebook and purse. “Sure,” she said. “Why not?”
The restaurant she chose was packed but not noisy. Leticia knew the importance of picking an open place with plenty of people for a business dinner, even if Gerald appeared genuine. She reminded herself of this practicality as she sat across from him, her gaze briefly drifting to the steady hum of activity around them. It’s safe, she thought, though she couldn’t ignore the small voice chiding her for riding in his car to get there.
After the waiter took their orders, Leticia retrieved her notebook and stylus. Turning the device on, she tapped a few quick notes as she prepared to start the consultation.
“Tell me about your wife, Mr. Hayes,” she began, her tone professional yet softened by genuine curiosity.
“Call me Gerald,” he replied, his smooth voice coaxing her to drop formality.
She nodded with a polite smile. “Okay, Gerald. Tell me about your wife. What kind of person was she? And what do you want this event to be? Should it be mournful, or would you prefer a celebration of life?”
Gerald leaned back slightly, his expression pensive. “Oh, I want it to be a celebration of life,” he said, his tone carrying an odd mix of sadness and determination. “I’m close to seeing her again, and I want this event to show her as if she’s still here with us.”
Leticia’s stylus paused above her notebook as her brow furrowed. This is the second time he’s mentioned seeing his wife again, she thought, her concern deepening.
Looking at him carefully, she asked, “Mr… Gerald, are you sick?”
He blinked, caught off guard. “No. Why? Do I look sick?”
“Not at all,” she replied, her tone measured. “But this is the second time you’ve talked about seeing your wife again, like you know exactly when it’s going to happen. You’re not…” She hesitated, setting her notebook down. “You’re not planning to take your life after this, are you? Because if you are”—her voice firmed as she straightened in her seat—“I won’t do it. I won’t help you plan a suicide note.”
For a moment, Gerald stared at her, utterly baffled. Then, he threw his head back and laughed—a deep, resonant laugh that filled the space between them. Leticia remained calm, her posture rigid and her expression unyielding as she watched him.
When his laughter finally subsided, Gerald wiped a tear from his eye and said, “My, my, Leticia. You’re a straightforward, no-nonsense woman, aren’t you? No, I’m not planning to kill myself. This is not a suicide note.” His tone softened as he continued, “It’s just a celebration of life. I hold my wife so close to my heart that I speak of her as if she’ll be returning soon. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”
Leticia studied him for a moment longer, then nodded, satisfied with his explanation. Picking up her notebook once more, she resumed her questions.
“When did your wife pass away?” Leticia asked, her tone softening.
“Five years ago,” Gerald replied quietly. “I lost her to cancer.”
Before she could think twice, Leticia reached out and rested her hand on his where it lay on the table. “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Gerald,” she said, her voice warm with sincerity.
Gerald’s hand twitched under her touch, and when she began to pull away, he gently caught her fingers. “I’m sorry if I startled you,” he murmured, holding her hand lightly as his gaze met hers. His brown eyes were earnest, almost pleading. “I haven’t felt a woman’s touch since I lost my wife.”
Leticia’s lips curved into a gentle smile as she gave his hand a brief, reassuring squeeze before withdrawing it. “Tell me about your wife, Gerald,” she encouraged softly, redirecting the conversation.
When Leticia unlocked the door and stepped inside, Pierre was pacing restlessly in the living room. The moment he saw her, his piercing yellow eyes pinned her in place. A low growl rumbled from his chest, sending a chill down her spine.
“Pierre?” she called hesitantly, instinctively raising her hand to the pendant around her neck, readying herself for defense.
The jaguar’s sharp gaze flicked to her hand, and then he turned away, padding back to his corner with a quiet huff. Curling up on the floor, he lay still, his body language signaling he meant no harm. Leticia exhaled, her tension easing as she realized he was simply agitated, not aggressive.
She closed the door behind her but left it unlocked, her movements deliberate.
“Lock your door, Lettie. I’m not going to eat you,” came the lazy drawl in her mind.
“That’s not what it looked like a moment ago,” she shot back, her tone sharper than she intended. “What got into you?”
“Where have you been?” Pierre countered, his voice low and simmering with irritation. “It’s way past your closing time.”
“I wasn’t aware I had a curfew,” Leticia retorted, arching a brow.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he said, his tone hard enough to send her anger spiking.
Her brows rose higher, her temper now bubbling to the surface. “First of all, watch your tone with me, Jaguar. Secondly, I am a grown woman who runs her own business, and I alone decide how I spend my time.”
“That’s pretty irresponsible for a multiple pet owner, don’t you think?” he drawled, his yellow eyes narrowing. “I wonder what animal rights activists would say about someone who abandons their pets all day. Where were you, anyway?”
Leticia froze for a moment, disbelief etched across her face. “I can’t believe this,” she finally said, her voice calm but laced with venom. “I don’t know what you think you are, Pierre, but let me make one thing very clear: I do not answer to you. So, unless you’re prepared to adjust your attitude and talk to me with respect, this conversation is over.”
Pierre went silent, his jaw tightening as he wrestled with his thoughts. Leticia, unimpressed by his lack of response, let out a quiet “hmph” before heading into the kitchen. She busied herself dishing out food for the pumas, her movements deliberate and pointed. Returning to the living room, she began stripping off her work attire without sparing him a glance. Pierre averted his gaze, his internal battle raging over how to warn her she’d been targeted without revealing too much about himself.
When she finally settled onto her favorite couch with a book in hand, he turned toward her, the tension in the room palpable.
“I’m only worried about your safety,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with sincerity.
Leticia didn’t look up from her book. “I wonder how I managed to survive thirty whole years without you to worry about me,” she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes.
Pierre’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I know I’m being annoying—”
“Understatement of the century,” she quipped, not missing a beat.
His golden eyes narrowed as frustration bubbled beneath the surface. He closed them momentarily, taking slow, deep breaths to push down his rising anger. If he wanted to make her see reason, snapping at her wasn’t the way. He needed a different approach—one that wouldn’t drive her further away.
“What are your powers as guardian?” Pierre asked, his tone even but curious.
Leticia glanced up from her novel, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m not going to tell you that, but I have a feeling you’re going to find out soon if you ever pull a stunt like tonight again.”
Pierre blinked at her pointed words, momentarily taken aback. A low chuckle rumbled in her mind, smooth as velvet. The unexpected sound made her lips twitch, and she hid a smile behind her book.
“I’m sorry for my behavior tonight, Lettie,” Pierre said, his voice softer now. “I was worried about you.”
Leticia set her book down, her expression softening. She reached out to scratch his head, her fingers brushing against the coarse fur. Pierre’s ears twitched, and his cat-like features morphed into what looked suspiciously close to a frown. She couldn’t help it—she laughed, her earlier annoyance melting away.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I had a client today,” she began, leaning back into the couch. “A man who wants me to plan the anniversary of his wife’s death.”
“Shouldn’t that be done by family? Why hire an event planner?” Pierre queried, his tone tinged with skepticism.
Leticia threw him a sharp look. “Because he has the money and wants to make it special. It’s the fifth anniversary of her death. Why is it that poor people always think everything is a waste of money?”
“Poor people?” Pierre arched a brow. “You don’t strike me as the materialistic type.”
“I’m not,” Leticia shot back, her irritation clear. “But I just told you about a new client, and that’s the first thing you say?”
Pierre hesitated before replying, his tone softening. “Congratulations on your new job. When is the event?”
“One month from now,” she said, her voice lowering with doubt. “It’s too soon. I don’t know if I can pull it off.”
“Of course, you can.” Pierre’s voice was steady and reassuring. “You’re very efficient when you want to be.”
“Thank...you?” Leticia tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “What do you mean, ‘when I want to be’?”
“You turn this house upside down when you’re in a hurry,” he said with a faint grin. “But you always put it back together just as quickly—and beautifully, I might add. That’s efficiency. That’s how I know you’ll pull this off.”
Leticia smiled grudgingly. He was right, and she couldn’t argue with that. Shaking her head, she began outlining the details she had gathered about the event. As their conversation deepened, she noticed Pierre was making surprisingly insightful comments. Intrigued, she pulled out her tablet, tapping away as they brainstormed ideas together.
The hours slipped by unnoticed, and Leticia eventually dozed off on the couch, her tablet slipping from her grasp.
Pierre watched her for a moment, his feline features softening. With a quiet sigh, he shifted forms, his human silhouette glowing faintly in the dim light of the room. Catching the tablet before it could hit the floor, he placed it gently on the table. Then, with practiced ease, he scooped her up in his arms, careful not to disturb her sleep.
As he carried her to the bedroom, a tender smile ghosted across his lips. Tucking her into the bed, he smoothed the blanket over her and paused, unable to resist brushing his fingers across her cheek. Her skin was warm and soft under his touch, and his wistful expression deepened as his gaze lingered on her peaceful face.
Leticia’s eyes fluttered open, groggy but alert, and locked onto his. For a moment, the air between them was charged with something unspoken, fragile, and potent. Pierre froze, his hand still resting lightly against her cheek.
Chapter Four
Pierre made a split-second decision. His hand darted out, his second and middle fingers striking a specific nerve behind her ear. Her body slackened almost instantly, sinking back into the mattress as her breathing evened out.
He backed away from her sleeping form, his chest heaving as if he had just escaped a trap. Shifting swiftly into his panther form, he padded to the far corner of the room, curling his sleek body into the shadows.
How could I be so reckless? Pierre’s mind raced, the sharp sting of regret biting at him. He’d put everything in jeopardy with a single, foolish gesture. A soft growl rumbled in his throat, muffled by the darkness.
He cast a cautious glance at Leticia, who remained still, her expression serene in slumber. It was pretty dark in the room; she couldn’t have really seen me, could she? He shook his massive head, dismissing the thought. He couldn't afford to dwell on what-ifs.
The faint rustling of the night breeze through the window calmed him slightly, but his muscles remained coiled, ready. Sleep was out of the question now. He couldn’t afford another mistake.
Instead, he lay in silence, watching the rise and fall of Leticia’s chest, his thoughts spiraling. The bond he sought to forge with her was delicate, requiring precision and patience. Yet in his moment of weakness, he had nearly shattered it.
He hoped she'd raise it when she woke up. He would convince her it had all been a dream—a trick of her exhausted mind. Tomorrow, he resolved, he would be the perfect confidant—charming, attentive, and unassuming. Whatever it took to keep her close, he would do. For now, all he could do was wait.
When Leticia woke up, the first rays of sunlight were filtering through her curtains. She jumped out of bed, tossing her nightshirt over her head as she dashed into the shower.
Emerging from the bathroom completely nude, she grabbed a towel, roughly dried her body, and oiled her skin with practiced efficiency. Dressing in record time, she opted for a no-makeup look, applying only a quick swipe of lip gloss before heading to the kitchen.
She dished out canned food for her cats, casting an apologetic smile at Pierre as she emptied a tuna can into his bowl.
“I’ll make it up to you tonight, I promise!” She planted a loud, smacking kiss between his eyes before hurrying out the door.
By the time she arrived at her office, her staff were already hard at work. The sight brought a smile to her face. She’d sent out emails late the previous night outlining their new project, and it was clear they’d taken her instructions seriously.
A chorus of “Good mornings” greeted her as she made her way to her desk. She hadn’t stopped by Macy’s, her favorite coffee shop, for breakfast and hesitated to ask anyone to make the run for her. Unfortunately, Macy’s didn’t offer delivery, so she resigned herself to ordering from a chain she didn’t like as much.
Could this morning get any worse? She sighed, picking up her phone to place an order.
Before she could dial, the phone rang. Leticia blinked at the name on her screen: Gerald Hayes. She did a quick mental check. She’d sent him a quote after their dinner, and he’d surprised her by paying in full. She wasn’t expecting to hear from him so soon.
Please don’t let him be the type to micromanage, she thought, clearing her throat before answering.
“Good morning, Mr. Hayes?”
“Back to formality, Leticia?”
Despite herself, she smiled. “Good morning, Gerald.”
“Much better. Now, what’s your favorite breakfast spot?”
“Excuse me?” She blinked, caught off guard.
“Where do you like to grab breakfast? I know you don’t eat before you leave home—not with how focused you are. So, where do you go?”
“Well... I usually get two cups of mocha and a croissant from Macy’s. It’s a small family-owned coffee shop two blocks from my office building.”
“Got it. Bye.” The line went dead before she could respond.
Leticia stared at her phone, shaking her head. With a shrug, she set it aside, opened her laptop, and dove into work, completely forgetting why she’d picked up the phone in the first place.
It wasn’t even thirty minutes later when the soft ding of her office door caught Leticia’s attention. A young man, casually dressed but neat in appearance, stepped inside. He carried several coffee packs and a large, towel-covered basket.
The tantalizing aroma wafting from the basket revealed its origin before she even spotted the familiar Macy’s label on one of the coffee cups.
The young man approached her desk and set the items down carefully.
“Miss Leticia? He said I’d recognize you right away. You’re easily the most beautiful woman in the area.”
Leticia arched a brow, hiding her smile. “Delivery and compliments—impressive combination.”
The man gave a slight bow before leaving without another word.
Before Leticia could unwrap the basket, Janelle, her quirkiest employee and the unofficial spokesperson of the team, piped up from her desk.
“Coffee and pastries from Macy’s for all of us? Must’ve cost a pretty penny. You didn’t even ask who it’s from! I know that boy didn’t buy it.”
Leticia shot her a chiding glance, one that sent Janelle ducking her head with a sheepish grin as she returned to her work.
Of course, Leticia didn’t ask. As she pulled back the towel, revealing an assortment of steaming-hot pastries and a variety of coffee flavors, she didn’t need to. She already knew exactly who it was from.
Gerald.
Pierre paced the room, his thoughts churning. She hadn’t mentioned the previous night, not even in passing. Perhaps she didn’t remember. She had woken up late and rushed out in such a flurry that he hadn’t had the chance to gauge her mood.
He’d hoped they could have discussed it, laid the matter to rest before she left for work. Now, the uncertainty gnawed at him. He hated suspense, especially when it threatened the careful balance he was trying to maintain.
His gaze fell on the tuna in his bowl, and he wrinkled his nose in disdain. It would have to wait. He’d find something more palatable when he ventured into town.
Heading into the bathroom, Pierre decided to take a quick shower. He preferred to avoid public baths when he could. Grabbing her shower gel, he hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. She’s too scattered to notice something like this, he reasoned. It wasn’t as if she marked the bottle after every use.
As the warm water cascaded over him, a fresh realization struck. The oil in the gel clung to his skin, leaving a faint trace of its scent. He groaned, cursing his lack of foresight. She’ll smell it on me.
He considered his options, then dismissed the thought with a flick of his head. I’ll just say I was playing with it out of boredom. That explanation should suffice, as long as he kept his tone casual.
Stepping out of the bathroom, Pierre paused. Unbidden, memories of Leticia moving about naked flooded his mind. He had been too apprehensive earlier to focus on her, but now, standing alone in the quiet of the empty house, water dripping down his body, the fragments came rushing back, piecing themselves together.
A heat stirred in his core, unwelcome and insistent, his body betraying him. It had been too long—far too long since he had been with a woman. The ache of desire clawed at him, relentless and maddening. His fingers twitched at his sides, resisting the primal urge to reach down and address the evidence of his growing arousal.
I need to take care of this, he thought grimly, as he walked stiffly to the wardrobe to get his clothes. I can’t afford distractions, least of all this one.
By the time Pierre reached his third bar of the day, he was still chasing whispers. Listening to thoughts and probing for information had yielded little so far, and he was starting to lose patience. He focused on his plate, tearing into a medium-rare steak and chasing it with a generous gulp of scotch.
He smiled into his glass as a deft hand slipped into his pocket. Turning slightly, he spotted the thief: a tall, willowy Japanese woman dressed in sleek leather pants and a matching corset that revealed her toned midriff. She moved with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times.
Pierre watched her saunter toward the exit, slipping his wallet into her pants. He gave her a head start before following.
He caught up to her just as she swung a leg over a glossy black motorcycle.
“Nice bike,” he said with a smirk. “Is it even yours?”
The woman didn’t so much as glance at him. She focused on starting the engine, her slender fingers twisting the ignition.
Pierre stepped closer, placing a calm hand on the handlebar. His gaze locked with hers. “My wallet,” he said evenly.
Her eyes narrowed. “Jibun o okashitekudasai,” she hissed.
Pierre chuckled, his smirk widening. “Quite a mouth you’ve got there. No, I won’t go fuck myself. And I know you speak English. Hand it over—I need to pay for my meal.”
Her lips curled into a sly smile as she leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper in Japanese. Her eyes gleamed, flashing an unmistakable yellow.
Pierre didn’t flinch. “Can I have my wallet now?”
The smile vanished, replaced by a flicker of fear. She recoiled, her yellow eyes darting away from his and blinking rapidly as it turned back to a human shade of dark brown. Without another word, she yanked his wallet from her pocket and tossed it at him before revving her engine.
Pierre watched as the bike roared to life and she sped off into the traffic, her leather-clad figure disappearing amidst the cars.
He chuckled softly, tucking the wallet back into his jacket. A kitsune. Mischievous as always. He’d encountered one before during his time in Japan, and this one was no less cunning. The panic in her eyes when she realized her magic didn’t work on him was priceless.
As he strolled back into the bar, Pierre shook his head. For a fleeting moment, he considered how it hadn't even occurred to him to flirt with her or any other woman, for that matter, since he left home that morning.
It’s like I only remember I’m a man when I’m around Leticia, he thought with a groan. I’m truly fucked
*******************************************************
Leticia came home in high spirits, humming a tune as she unlocked the door and kicked it shut behind her. The click of her stilettos echoed on the wooden floor as she strode toward the kitchen, arms full of shopping bags.
After depositing her haul, she returned to the living room, kicking off her shoes with a satisfied sigh. With practiced ease, she unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it onto the couch, leaving her in a fitted tank top as she disappeared again to prepare food for her cats.
The whole time, Pierre’s sharp gaze tracked her every movement. She hummed away, occasionally wriggling her hips to the rhythm of the song in her head. Her high spirits radiated through the room, lifting the air like a warm breeze.
She’s in a particularly good mood, Pierre thought, his brows furrowing slightly. More so than usual.
When Leticia returned with a tray of meat, her smile brightened as she placed it in front of him. But Pierre shook his head.
“I’m not hungry,” his clear voice resonated in her mind.
Leticia tilted her head, an arched brow lifting in mock surprise. “You’ve only had canned tuna all day.”
“I went out,” he replied, his tone calm. “Caught a couple of rabbits.”
Her playful expression shifted into mock sternness. “I know we’re on the outskirts of town, but you need to be careful, Pierre. You’re too big to roam around freely. Someone could see you, and the last thing I want is for you to get hunted or shot.”
Pierre couldn’t stop the warmth that crept into his chest. Without thinking, he spoke into her mind, his tone carrying more intensity than he intended. “I’ll be careful. Don’t worry.”
Leticia paused, her eyes softening at his words. She nodded and turned to return his uneaten food to the fridge.
“How was your day?” Pierre asked, his voice quieter this time.
“You would not believe what happened!” she replied, almost giddy.
Pierre smirked, rolling his eyes. Here we go.
“Gerald bought coffee and pastries for my entire office—straight from Macy’s!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing as she spoke. “Macy’s! That’s where I get my breakfast, and let me tell you, they are not cheap.”
She came back into her room as she continued to recount the event. Pierre stayed where he was, listening with an amused expression as she moved around, changing into her nightwear.
She plodded to her bed and climbed on without pulling back the blanket, lying on top of it and facing Pierre.
“Who is Gerald?” Pierre queried, his voice tinged with curiosity.
“My latest client. Remember? I just told you about him,” Leticia replied, arching a brow.
“Oh, the one too lazy to plan his wife’s memorial?”
She frowned, but before she could retort, Pierre chuckled, the sound low and teasing.
“I’m just playing with you. Why did he buy you coffee? Is he hitting on you?”
“I hope so!” she giggled, the sound light and carefree.
Pierre stilled for a moment, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. “Why would he be hitting on you?”
Leticia rolled her eyes, leaning back on her hands. “I know you don’t see it because I’m not a sexy jaguar with shiny fur and bright spots,” she teased, her tone dripping with mock exasperation.
Pierre made an exaggeratedly exasperated sound, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, though a flicker of warmth crossed his features.
“But in the human world, I’m very much above average looking,” Leticia continued, her tone playful but confident. “I turn heads wherever I go. So, yeah, it’s not surprising to me that he might like me. I might like him, too. Anyway, we managed to get a lot of work done today. We’ve booked almost all the vendors we need, and I’ll be finalizing arrangements after I visit his place.”
Pierre’s ears perked up at that. “You’re going to his house?”
“Well, yes,” she replied matter-of-factly. “The anniversary is taking place there. I need to see it to organize everything, including where each item will go. That’s Events Management 101.”
“Please tell me you’re not going alone,” Pierre said, his voice firm.
Leticia smirked. “No, I’m not. I’m going with my team.”
“Good,” Pierre muttered. “I don’t want you visiting that man alone for any reason.”
“Yes, Pa,” she teased, rolling her eyes.
Pierre sighed. “I just want you to be safe.”
Leticia chuckled lightly, her expression softening. “I know. I feel the same way about you too.”
Ohh, I doubt it, Lettie. You don’t know half the things I want to do to you. You do not feel the same way, Pierre thought, biting back a groan.
Leticia climbed onto her bed and closed her eyes. But as soon as her lids shut, a vivid image flashed in her mind: feline green eyes and full, pouty lips. Her eyes snapped open, and she turned to Pierre, who was already alert.
“Pierre,” she said cautiously, “did a man come into this house last night?”
Pierre stiffened but kept his expression neutral. “A man? I’d have ripped him limb from limb at the door. What’s wrong?”
“I feel like I saw someone sitting on my bed last night,” she said, her brows furrowing. “The memory is fuzzy, but I could’ve sworn I fell asleep on the couch and woke up in my bed.”
“You did fall asleep on the couch,” Pierre said smoothly. “But I remember watching you stumble like a drunk all the way to your bed. I was going to tease you about it later. Also, didn’t you meet your coffee buyer yesterday? You must have been so taken by him that you conjured him in your dreams.”
“Nah... this man I saw was more beautiful than any person I’ve ever seen,” she murmured, her voice dreamy yet unsure.
Pierre suppressed a smug smile. Ahhh... she thinks I’m the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.
“It was just a dream, Lettie,” he said reassuringly. “I’d never let anyone get that close to you. You can sleep well—I’m right here.”
Leticia nodded, seemingly satisfied, and drifted off to sleep. Pierre, however, remained tense. He searched her thoughts for signs of doubt and found none, exhaling a sigh of relief.
That was one crisis averted, he thought grimly. But the weight of his mistake lingered. He had to ensure it didn’t happen again. If she saw the same face twice, there’d be no convincing her it was just a dream.
Chapter Five
Leticia walked out of the restaurant with two large bags, grinning widely.
Pierre was going to love her for this. For the past two weeks, she'd been swamped with her new project and had been feeding him and her pumas canned food. He never complained, always cleared his bowl, but she still felt guilty.
The chef she’d hired to cater Gerald’s event had been so sweet. After hearing about her situation, he whipped up a whole feast just for her cats.
She shifted both bags into one hand and was about to flag down a taxi when her phone rang.
Gerald.
She picked up, her smile spilling into her voice. "Hey."
“Ohh, someone’s in a good mood.”
"Yeah… my cats are about to have a feast. I’ve been neglecting them since I started working on your event. I’m just happy I can finally give them something special.”
“Oh, you’re a cat mom! What kind of cats are we talking about?”
"Uhh… well… they’re very big cats. I have two pumas and a jaguar.” She let out a nervous laugh.
There was a low whistle on the other end. “Lettie… I knew you were a strong woman, but this? How are you keeping them as pets?”
"Well, they’re not exactly pets. More like rescues. Foster kids, even. I’ll let them go once I’m sure they’ll be okay on their own. They’re too wild to be kept permanently."
“Wow. I’m impressed. I want to hear more—which actually brings me to why I called. I want to take you out to dinner.”
Leticia smiled and quickly straightened her expression before replying.
"I don’t have any new updates on the event yet, Gerald. We’ve been talking every day, and I’ve seen you twice this week already.”
“Mmhmm. And when have we ever actually talked about work?” He paused. “Send me your address. I’ll pick you up by eight. Maybe I’ll get to meet your cats too.”
“My place is kind of hard to find if I’m not there to guide you.”
“I’ll find it.”
Pierre was just finishing hiding his clothes when he heard Lettie’s cab pull up. He shut the wardrobe with a soft click and glanced around the room. The bowl was clean, the canned tuna—he shuddered—disposed of.
Two weeks of back-to-back tuna. Really, Lettie? He chuckled to himself. He never ate his. But the pumas? They had no choice.
With a sigh, he shifted back into his jaguar form and stretched out on the floor to wait.
Lettie came in humming, her key jingling in the lock. She’d mentioned wanting to start leaving the door open for him, but he’d insisted she keep it locked.
“I can always use the window,” he’d told her.
Juggling both bags, she danced her way to the kitchen, tossing a casual, “Hey,” over her shoulder.
“You’re in a good mood,” he said.
Her laugh rang out from the kitchen. “I’m always in a good mood.”
“Debatable.”
“Don’t start or you’re getting tuna.”
“Oh, so you know it’s a punishment,” he muttered dryly.
A mouthwatering aroma drifted from the kitchen and Pierre lifted his head, curious.
She reappeared moments later with a tray piled high with food — rich, steaming, and obviously expensive.
She dropped the tray in front of him, then sauntered back into the kitchen, poking her head out just to tease,
“What? Cat got your tongue?”
She giggled and resumed her happy dance.
Pierre sniffed at the tray, cautiously impressed. “Where did you get this?”
Lettie popped out again, now holding two bowls for the pumas. “A chef made it! I’ll give you the details when I get back.”
She rushed outside to feed the others. When she returned, she kicked off her shoes and began undressing, tossing her clothes aside as she spoke.
“I’ve been waiting all day to shower,” she called, already halfway to the bathroom.
Pierre raised his head, eyeing her. “Come back?”
“Yeah. Gerald’s picking me up for dinner.”
He frowned. “Picking you up… as in, he’s coming here?”
“Yep,” she replied, slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.
Moments later, she hopped out naked and started putting on the dress she’d picked out — sans underwear.
Pierre felt a sharp tug in his chest.
“Lettie… don’t you think you’re moving too fast? You just met this guy.”
She rolled her eyes, spritzing perfume onto her neck. “No, Mom. I don’t think I’m moving too fast.”
“Does he know you live with wild animals?”
Leticia laughed, loud and carefree. “Why would you say it like that? Like I’m some kind of cavewoman.” She glanced at him through the mirror. “Anyway, yes. He knows — and he doesn’t care. He’s intrigued, actually.”
Pierre swallowed hard, the bile rising in his throat. The food now looked unappetizing.
“…Did he buy this?” he asked, eyeing the tray again.
“No, he didn’t. Why?”
“No reason.” His voice was tight. “How long are you staying out?”
“Good question…” Lettie paused, thoughtfully tugging her zipper.
“I haven’t seen his place yet, so… might kill two birds with one stone.”
Pierre blinked. “What does that—? Wait. You want to go to his place tonight?”
“If he asks me… yes.” She turned to face him. “You don’t get it, Pierre. It’s been too long since the last time. I like him. I want this.”
Pierre went quiet. A dull ache began to pulse behind his eyes. Too many emotions stirred at once; none of them pleasant, none he could name.
Her phone rang.
“Oh hi!” she answered, her voice instantly brighter. “You can come to the house.”
She glanced over at Pierre and sighed. “Sorry… I need you to go outside. You made me a little sensitive with that cavewoman comment, and now I don’t want him seeing you inside. Blame yourself.”
She carried his half-eaten tray into the kitchen and covered it with care.
When she came back out, Pierre was gone.
Pierre watched the house from his perch in the tree.
A sleek black SUV had pulled up to the curb. The back door opened, and a man stepped out, maybe in his forties, wearing narrow black glasses and an expensive-looking outfit.
Pierre’s eyes tracked him as he walked to the door, where Lettie greeted him. They exchanged smiles and a brief hug — though Pierre’s jaw tightened when the man’s hand lingered on the small of her waist.
He watched as they strolled hand in hand to the car.
Only after the SUV pulled away, and the fog of jealousy cleared, did realization sink in.
He hadn’t heard that man’s thoughts.
A shiver ran through him.
