Out of the Dark Read Free Page B

forward.
    Anne-Marie saw the eyes first, feral gold and faintly reflective. Then the dark shape padded into view, moving silently through the doorway and onto the gleaming dance floor.
    It stopped there, poised in terrible grace on its mirror image that shimmered in the polished parquet. Black and powerful and huge within the enclosed space of the room, it bared glistening white teeth as it growled in low distress. Its baleful and hungry stare swept the room.
    It was a swamp panther.

 
    The great black cat ignored the screamer, paid no attention to the sudden oaths and cries or the scrambling, undignified retreat of those close to it. Head lifted, it quartered the gathering with a searching stare while the black pupils in its yellow-green eyes closed slowly to slits against the light.
    Then its gaze stopped, centered. It raised extended nostrils while twitching a long black tail. Lifting a huge paw, it stretched into a smooth walk. Madame Picard’s guests parted before it, fluttering away to safety like chickens in a barnyard.
    They left a cleared expanse of floor, a shining path which marked the panther’s line of sight. It led straight toward the corner where Anne-Marie sat.
    She did not move; she could not. Her gaze was fastened on the advancing beast. With her lips parted in amazement and the shrimp puff forgotten in her hand, she followed his steady advance.
    Oh, but he was a magnificent animal, even beautiful in a fierce and deadly fashion. The candlelight slid along his back with a glassy sheen; the muscles under his sleek skin bunched and contracted with the controlled strength of his effortless strides. Swift, silent, he glided toward her in unstoppable certainty. Mesmerized by his power and the steady light in his fixed eyes, she did not try to escape, but waited, barely breathing, while he rounded the harp and bore down upon her.
    As the great animal neared, he crouched a little, ears forward, nose out-stretched. He put a foot on the hem of her skirt where the fragile material was spread over the floor. He stopped.
    Anne-Marie could feel the heat of his body, smell the wild, outdoor freshness of him. His power surrounded her. She inhaled softly in wonder.
    Pushing his neck forward toward her hand, the panther blew gently. His warm breath tickled her fingers. Then he opened his mouth and reached a rough tongue to lap gently across them.
    The sensation was astonishing, abrading yet warm, stimulating beyond all reason. The beast’s facile tongue slipped along her knuckles, searched between them to discover areas of sensitivity she had not known she possessed. Heat began somewhere deep inside her and radiated to her skin’s surface.
    Anne-Marie allowed her taut muscles to relax a little so that her fingers lost their cramped curl. At that slight motion, the great black cat took the shrimp puff from her hand with delicate precision. He downed it in single gulp.
    Anne-Marie gasped, then gave a shaky laugh. “Why you great devil,” she said. “How dare you take my supper? And where, pray, is your invitation? I fear you are a trespasser of the most pernicious sort: You do not even pretend to like the company but come merely for the food!”
    Incredibly, a rough rumble, like a cross-cut saw drawn across a hollow log, came from the panther. It blinked up at Anne-Marie with its eyes glinting green-gold and its pupils expanding slightly to the shape of narrow triangles.
    “Yes, it’s all very well to make up to me, but I am not fooled,” she scolded gently. “I dare say that morsel you just swallowed made not a dent on your appetite. I have a little pate on my plate, if you think you could relish it?”
    She dipped her finger into the smooth goose liver paste and held it out. The panther took it in swift lick.
    Somewhere in the room, a woman gave a hysterical spurt of laughter. Anne-Marie sent her a warning glance even as she spoke once more to the cat. “A fine treat, was that not? I rather expected you would