This entirely original, exclusive, free-to-you story has been brought to you by… me! Play on, playaz…

Please read chapters one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, and eleven if you haven’t already.

After five years, Daisy Sawyer has finally come home. Not that she’s too happy about it. She had a great life in LA: rubbing elbows with celebrities, hopping from one exclusive bar to the other, and best of all, she didn’t have to answer to anyone. But when a drunken night of partying lands her in jail, the only person she can count on is her estranged brother, Alec, the leader of a powerful were-leopard clan. Forced to choose between a prison sentence or face the life she abandoned years ago, Daisy returns… but she doesn’t have to like it…

Christian LeBeau owes Alec Sawyer his life. He will do anything for the man, even babysit his bratty baby sister. But Christian never imagined that Daisy could grow up to be so beautiful… and forbidden in more ways than one. His mind tells him she is the one woman he can never have, but his body refuses to listen. All he has to do is take care of Daisy until Alec finds her a proper were-leopard to marry, then Chris could wash his hands of her and get on with his life… but fate seems to have other plans.

And now, I present to you… Chasing Daisy…

Chapter Twelve

The leopard stared at the creature shaking like a leaf before her and did something she had never done before: she gaped. Her jaw had dropped open as she was sitting on her haunches, unable to decide what she was supposed to do next. It was not something that regularly occurred to her. If she wanted something, she nabbed it. If a living, moving thing happened across her path, she tore it open and ate it. That was just the way it had always worked. There was no thinking involved. In her experience, she had learned there was no room for hesitation; if you weren’t on the move, you became somebody else’s food.

Gingerly, she took a step toward the human and pushed at its side with her paw. It groaned and rolled over, so that it was lying on its back. The leopard retreated. Its skin was very pale and a thick, viscous fluid covered it from head to feet, making it glisten. Under the moonlight, it almost hurt to look at it. One did not eat something that was covered in slime. It was not food. It was… something else. The leopard prodded it again, but it did not move. Its eyes were squeezed shut and it was absolutely still. Was it dead? She glowered at it and took another step back. Maybe it was just playing dead so it could attack her once she lowered her guard. Not going to happen. She should do the pathetic thing a favor and just slash its chest open just to make sure it wasn’t playing a trick. She raised her paw. It opened its eyes.

The leopard made a sound it had never made before: a yelp. She bolted to the thicket closest to her and ducked behind it. She peeked at her quarry through the branches. It stirred, swiveled its head toward her, then slowly sat up. She crouched, so she would be more adequately covered by the bush. She wasn’t hiding. She was merely evaluating the creature from a safe distance before deciding on the best course of action. It was what any leopard worth her salt would do. Besides, she didn’t want to get its slime all over her nice fur.

The human shook its head as though attempting to dislodge the slime. The leopard wondered if it would use its tongue to clean itself like she did. The thought of touching her own tongue to the stuff made her shudder. What did it even taste like? But the human did not lick itself. Instead, it stood up, reached behind a rock, and produced a sack from which it pulled out something—a towel—that it used to wipe off the slime from its body. When it was finished, it looked at the thicket where she was hiding—no, the word is reconnaissance—and the corners of its mouth tilted upward.

“Come on out, Daisy,” it said.

The leopard growled. It was not yet time for the Daisy-thing to come out. But she could feel the Daisy-thing moving, pushing at her insides. The Daisy-thing had been quiet for a while, but she knew it had not gone to sleep. It was a sneaky thing when it needed to be. It had been watching, waiting, planning its next move. Christian, it said. The leopard recognized the name. It was the… creature her alpha had commissioned to babysit the Daisy-thing because it was a weak, helpless infant.

With her body low to the ground, the leopard continued to watch her prey. She had not come across many humans, but she was quite certain that this one was a fine specimen. It was very lean, yet wide about the area that held its head. Its body was long, its torso appearing to be devoid of lazy fat. Her scrutiny dropped to the area between its legs. Nestled in dark fur, its sex organ hung pendulously. Because of its tubular, limb-like nature, the leopard surmised that its owner was a male. And how, gasped the Daisy-thing. The leopard frowned. The breathy quality of the Daisy-thing’s exclamation suggested that it was impressed with the creature. The leopard hoped that the idiot didn’t intend to mate with it. They didn’t even know what it was.

“ Come on out, chaton,” it said.

If the leopard didn’t know any better, she would say that the male was trying to charm her into revealing herself. Its voice was low and soothing, asking the leopard to trust it. Her mind flashed back to a moment earlier in the evening when she had burst out of the Daisy-shell unexpectedly and the creature had spoken to her in a similar manner, even daring to touch her ears. She couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t just torn out his throat then. Instead, she had shoved him away and leaped out of the window, breaking the glass which she had had to dig out of her flesh later. Inside her body, the Daisy-thing had become restless, flitting about as though it had forgotten how to sit still. The leopard poked her head out of the bush. The human was closer now, only a few feet away. Did the fool have a death wish? Maybe it was soft in the head and did not realize that she was not a kitty cat it could roll around with.

The leopard gingerly slid out of her hiding place. The human was sitting on a large rock, watching her, waiting for her to come to it. The leopard, who had begun to pad forward, froze. She thrust her nose in the air and sniffed. Insufferable creature. Did it think it could bring her to heel by cooing at her like she was cub and flashing her a cute smile? She did not play kitty cat for anyone, least of all a fool whose heart she could rip out and swallow whole if she chose to. The human crooked his finger at her, a gesture she recognized as a command to move forward. Her body, seemingly out of her control at this point, raised a paw and set it down on the ground in front of her. Soon her other paw followed. And then the other. She was forced to move her hind legs in conjunction to her disobedient ones lest she was made to look like a pathetic creature being dragged to face its master. She would confront the human under her own volition, by God. She would not turn tail and run. Even if she decided to do so, it would not be from cowardice. It would be because she was tired of dealing with this human. Did it not think she had anything better to do?

As she approached, the human unfolded its long frame from the rock and dropped itself on the ground before her, crouching with grace she had only ever seen on another leopard. She was close enough to it now that she could smell its breath, could reach out a paw and touch its face if she wanted to. In the moonlight, its eyes sparkled like the surface of water and she could see that they were very, very—silvery, the Daisy-brain supplied breathlessly. Enthralled as she was by its eyes, it was almost too late when she realized it was lifting its hand toward her. She growled and took a step backward to avoid it.

“ No, chaton, don’t be afraid,” it murmured.

The leopard condescended to be touched by the creature which trailed its fingers along the side of her head. She could do nothing but sit absolutely still as his hand hovered over her fur for a moment, before cupping the top of skull and gently stroking down the length of her spine. Her muscles and bones seemed to melt under his ministrations until she felt like… a big bowl of jelly, the Daisy-brain informed her. As though her body was no longer her own, she found herself drifting closer to him until she was mere inches from him. Her eyes narrowed as she studied its face and eyes. If there was deception lurking beneath the seemingly friendly gaze, she could not see it. And she was quite good at sniffing out weasels. She dipped her head closer to his body and inhaled. It didn’t seem to emanate that stink of fear, either. She raised her head again and without giving it warning, swiped her tongue down its cheek.

It released a bark of laughter and touched the area where her tongue had been. “Did you just give me a kiss?”

Oh my god, did you just lick him? The leopard allowed a snort in response. She was merely tasting its sweat. One could tell a lot about a creature by the taste of its sweat. It could tell you if it meant to take a swipe at you before attempting to escape, for instance. But she only tasted salt and… something else. Fear was sour, but his skin had… an herbal, almost flowery taste to it. She once ended up with a mouthful of roses when she misjudged a leap while chasing a rabbit and landed face-first in a bush. She had a hell of a time pulling out the thorns afterward. And this creature tasted like a flower. Sweet and pleasant and… she licked him again.

“Whoa,” it said. “I’m going to start thinking you like me.”

She didn’t care what it thought. She just wanted its hands on her fur again, stroking the muscle underneath. It meant nothing to her. It was merely her personal back scratcher. She prodded its hand with her muzzle until it went back to its job of stroking her, then she draped her body across its lap and closed her eyes, resting her head on her paws. The creature continued to caress her as though it was specifically created for the task. The hand slid down her skull to her back and all the way down to the tip of her tail, then back up again, even taking the time to massage her ears. She groaned her pleasure and… melted.

She didn’t know how long she laid there, just enjoying his fingers on her skin. She hadn’t felt so relaxed in weeks. When she lived in LA, she had weekly sessions with Manuel at her favorite exclusive spa in Malibu, twice if she really needed it. It didn’t even matter that she had to drive, like, an hour to get there. Manuel was sooo worth it. She had been in such a desperate need for a massage ever since she got to Redding. Her back and neck muscles had been so out of whack and why wouldn’t they be? Her reflexive reaction to Alec was to freeze and recoil. It was wreaking havoc on her nerves. She was just so tense all the time.

But this… God, Manuel had nothing on this. Christian’s fingers were magical, rolling his thumbs gently and methodically along each and every node of her spine. The mere sensation of his warm skin against hers was enough to turn her bones to rubber. She ought to flip over so he could work his voodoo on her front, too. She shivered as she imagined him pinching her nipples between his fingers before leaning over to taste them. She could just lie on the grass under the stars while he kissed every inch of her skin, starting from her forehead to the very tips of her toes.

Toes. She had toes. She wiggled them experimentally and her eyes popped open. She looked at the hands which were braced on the grass next to her head and noted that the French tips on the fingernails were in harsh need of a refresh. Oh em gee! She was sprawled across Christian’s lap like a mermaid who was newly cursed with legs. And he was as naked as she was. Prickly heat that had nothing to do with arousal quickly spread along her skin. With a deep, shaky breath, she pushed herself up from the ground and knelt before him, covering her boobs with her arms. Unable to meet his eyes, she looked down. And covered her front with her other hand.

“Uh… hi,” she said to the ground.

“Daisy, look at me.” He cupped her chin gently in one hand and lifted her head.

To be continued…

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Dionne Galace lives in San Diego, California, just a few minutes away from the beach. She enjoys body-surfing, swimming, hiking, and trolling around comic book stores. She is a huge fan of The X-Files and lives in hope that she will see Mulder and Scully get married… in any shape or form. She is not a fan of hulabaloos or tomfooleries, but is quite fond of shenanigans. She is currently working on a kickass YA novel that somebody, anybody should buy already… ’cause it’s kickass. Ask Shuzluva.

Stealing is not cool. Ask Jane from Dear Author, if you don’t believe me. Props to April Martinez for the fabulous cover. She is one talented, gorgeous babe. Join me in giving her a terrorist fist jab over these internets.

Note: Hey, other writer-types, do you want to contribute to The Serial? If so, holla at yo gurl and I’ll hook you up, yo.

Till, then… Love, peace, and snarkage, my babies. Peace!

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