“That’s nice of you to say, Remy,” Saria said. “I wish I could believe you. I’m absolutely terrified.”

He frowned at her, trying not to be upset. “Are you thinkin’ of getting rid of the baby and not tellin’ Drake?” He couldn’t conceive of Saria doing such a thing. She was honest almost to a fault.

She looked so horrified he had his answer.

“Of course not. I’m goin’ to tell him. I just need to get my head right is all. And lately, it hasn’t been so right.” She rubbed at her temples as if she had a headache. “It was just as well Jake called and needed Drake to make the trip to Texas. I haven’t been so nice lately.”

“To Drake?” Remy prompted.

“It’s just that I’m horribly moody. Or edgy. I don’ know the right word for it.” She made a face, her eyes filled with self-loathing. “I found myself getting’ jealous of Bijou, and she’s one of my oldest friends.” She made the confession in a little ashamed rush. “I’m not a jealous person. I’m really not, Remy. Bijou’s—broken. She needs friends. She needs me and I’m actin’ like an idiot. Oh, not to her face, but inside, especially when Drake’s in the house, I find myself wantin’ to claw her eyes out.”

Remy let his breath out and sat up straighter. There it was. The confirmation he was looking for. “It’s all right, Saria . . .”

“No, it’s not,” Saria was adamant. “I don’ want to be that kind of person, especially toward a friend of mine. I’ve never cared about anyone being attractive—which she is. She needs me right now. She’s afraid of somethin’ and she’s come home. I can’t turn into a jealous, spitting, nasty cat because I’m pregnant.”

“I doubt that’s it,” Remy soothed.

She glared at him. “What else could it be? I’m never like this. I don’ cling to my husband. I don’ distrust him around other women. I’ve never been just plain mean, especially to him. He doesn’t say anythin’, but I know he’s going to soon and I’ll deserve anythin’ he says.”

“He’ll understand,” Remy assured. Drake was a patient man, quick to explode into violence only when needed. As a rule he was quite calm and thoughtful. Remy couldn’t imagine him getting impatient with Saria.

“I wish it was just Drake,” Saria said. “I’m so jealous of poor Bijou I could spit. Sometimes, with no warnin’ I just want to leap on her and scratch her eyes out, and that’s a polite way of saying what I really want to do.”

She blinked rapidly, and his heart jumped. Saria was definitely fighting tears and it wasn’t fair to her to let her think she had suddenly become a jealous woman because she was pregnant and felt terrified at the thought of being a mother because she had no parenting.

“I think Bijou’s leopard and she’s on the verge of the Han Vol Dan,” Remy stated quietly.

In the ensuing silence, Remy heard the clock tick and the rapid beat of his sister’s heart. Her eyes went wide with shock. Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged. She shook her head. He nodded.

Saira frowned, jumping up to pace restlessly. She shook her head again. “Remy. No. That’s impossible. Her father . . .”

“I know her father was no leopard, but we know nothin’ of her mother or her mother’s family. It’s entirely possible and I’m almost certain I’m right. Your leopard would react to the close proximity of a female leopard on the verge of the Han Vol Dan. Basically, she’s comin’ into heat around your male and you’re pregnant.”

“That’s just crazy.” She kept shaking her head. “Bijou is . . .”

Remy felt his leopard leap in protest, or maybe it was the man. “Don’ say she isn’t strong. You don’ know the half of what she’s been through. Anyone can reach a breakin’ point, Saria. Bijou found her way when she was just a child and she’s still going strong.”

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.”