Chapter 7
Teeth in the Dark
JULIETTE
The engine cut below the ridge. Silence followed, immediate and total.
I stood at the edge of the tent’s screened wall. My reflection blurred across the mesh and shadow. Outside, the ridge was a jagged black cut against a bruised sky.
Nick appeared a moment later, stepping out of the dark at the edge of the deck. He paused there, one hand low beside his thigh, the dark outline of his sidearm visible against his leg as his attention moved across the boards, the rail, the stairs, and the canvas flap I’d secured.
“Juliette.”
His voice carried low through the canvas.
“I’m here,” I said.
The flap stayed sealed.
“Entrance secured?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Unfasten it, then stay inside.”
His footsteps crossed the boards. Nick’s silhouette didn't move. He stood at the threshold, his focus already shifting toward the dark corner of the deck where the stairs met the timber. “Did you see it?” he asked quietly.
“No. Just heard it.”
“What kind of sound?”
“Weight,” I said. “Measured. Deliberate. It didn’t pause at the stairs, which suggests it’s been here before. Claws on timber, three distinct strikes.”
Nick’s silhouette didn't move. “Three strikes. You’re sure?”
“I don't miscount evidence, Nick.”
He nodded, a sharp, decisive motion. He returned to the flap but didn’t cross the threshold. “Open it two inches. No farther.”
I did. The night air slipped inside immediately, cool and heavy with Tamboti and rain-damp earth. Nick stayed just beyond the threshold, his presence turning the entrance into a boundary.
“Something was here,” he said. “Fresh tracks on the stairs.”
“What kind?”
“Still deciding.” His gaze moved briefly over my shoulder, checking the room before returning to me. He took in the damp hair, the tank top, and the bare legs. His jaw tightened for a split second. “You alright?”
“Yes.” My pulse disagreed, but I ignored it. “What are the likely candidates?”
“Hyena,” he said. “Maybe a leopard.”
“That is an unnecessary amount of calm for the word leopard.”
His mouth twitched. “I’m going to take a look around the deck.”
“I assumed as much.”
He studied me for a beat. “Stay inside. That’s not optional.”
“I could,” I said.
“You won’t.”
The words were quiet. Absolute.
“I heard it better than you did.”
“And I’m going to use that information from outside, while you remain inside.”
His gaze stayed on mine for one controlled beat, long enough to make the boundary clear.
“Which side of the stairs?” he asked. “Exactly.”
“Left. Third board from the top. It didn’t just step. It lingered.”
Nick didn’t argue. He couldn’t verify the sound or the specific vibration from where he stood, but he could use it. The sound of his sidearm clearing the holster was a dry, mechanical snap.
“Stay where you are.”
I stayed behind the secured opening, one hand on the canvas tie, the other braced against the timber frame. Through the mesh, I watched him move across the deck toward the stairs, placing each boot without a sound.
The boards shifted under his weight. Not loudly. Just enough.
The bush felt different after dark. Intimate, close, full of quiet decisions happening just outside my range of vision.
Nick paused at the top of the stairs. “Direction?” he asked without looking back.
I pointed through the opening. “Left side of the deck. Past the stairs.”
“Distance?”
“Close enough for the boards to carry the vibration.”
His head turned slightly. Not toward me. Toward the dark. “Good.”
He nodded and started down.
The air that slipped through the gap felt electric.
Nick moved through the dark with quiet certainty. He stopped so abruptly the entire deck seemed to obey.
He tilted his head slightly, listening. I stayed still, my breath catching in my throat. The corded muscle of his neck shifted as he tilted his head.
No hesitation. Just small adjustments in balance that kept his weight centered and his attention outward.
“What do leopards usually do in this situation?” I whispered through the opening.
“Watch.”
“Unsettling.”
“They prefer not to waste energy.”
“Practical. I like that in a predator.”
Then something shifted beyond the stairs. Subtle. Just enough to bend the stalks.
Nick stopped instantly.
Through the mesh, his hand lifted. Palm back.
Stay.
I did.
Two small lights appeared in the darkness, floating just above the dark stems.
Gold.
My brain tried briefly to categorize them using my usual logic.
Then they blinked.
Statistically, this is a problem.
“Nick,” I said quietly. “Left.”
His entire body changed the moment he saw them. He didn’t move fast.
He just became incredibly, dangerously still.
He stepped back one controlled pace, placing himself between the leopard and the opening without crossing inside.
The leopard stepped forward.
Just enough.
Muscle shifted beneath spotted fur. A long tail flicked once.
“Back from the opening, Juliette.”
“I’m already behind it.”
“Farther.”
I moved back one step. Then another.
“Do not step through that opening.”
“Wasn’t planning to.”
“Then improve your distance.”
The leopard’s eyes slid from Nick to the opening. To me.
A quiet calculation.
Then, as if we didn’t meet its standards for the evening’s dinner, the animal moved sideways and slipped back into the grass. One moment visible.
The next, an abyss.
The ridge exhaled.
Nick did not.
He didn’t holster the sidearm. He stayed on the deck, eyes fixed on the place where the stems had stopped moving. Watching. Listening. Waiting long after my body wanted to believe the danger had passed.
Finally, Nick backed toward the entrance without turning his back on the dark.
“Latch it,” he said.
I latched the canvas.
The click sounded too small for the amount of night it was keeping out.
My body hadn't received the news that we were safe. My pulse kept charging through me, bright and useless, looking for an exit. My hands wanted motion. My lungs wanted more air. Every inch of my skin felt too awake, as if the night had reached through the mesh and rewired me from the inside out.
Only then did he step inside and turn around.
He stood just inside the entrance, one hand still low beside his thigh, his attention not fully leaving the dark beyond the canvas.
“It’s still there,” I said.
“Moving toward the thicket.” His thumb stayed near the safety. “It wasn’t hunting us. We were inside its range.”
“I don’t like being an obstacle.”
His gaze finally cut to mine. Slowly. “Then don’t stand against a thin piece of mesh dressed like that.”
Mm. I’d rather be hunted by the man than the cat.
I folded my arms, the cotton of my tank top a thin, useless barrier against the sharpening chill.
“Well,” I said softly. “That was educational.”
He turned to look at me. “You’re pretending to be very calm.”
“I am choosing to assume you had that under control.”
“I did.”
“I suspected as much.” My pulse was still hammering against my ribs.
The silence that rushed back in was heavier than before. Nick finally holstered his sidearm, the metallic click final and sharp. He didn't move away. He stayed in my personal space, his heat a steady, grounding force against the sudden chill of the night air.
“Your pupils are blown,” he said.
“That seems like an observation you should keep to yourself.”
“It’s adrenaline.”
“I’m aware.”
“Adrenaline makes people reckless.”
I forced my hands to go still at my sides. “You’re not exactly relaxed either.”
“You’re shaking,” he noted.
“Adrenaline,” I said. “It has to go somewhere.”
His gaze moved over my face, down to my mouth, then away with visible effort.
There.
Apparently, it wanted to go there.
“Not outside,” he said.
“Obviously.”
“Not near an unsecured opening.”
“It’s latched.”
His eyes lifted to mine. “I noticed.”
He took a step closer. The floorboard gave a faint creak beneath his boot, a sound that felt unnecessarily loud in the vacuum the leopard had left behind. “I’m exactly as relaxed as I need to be to keep you alive.”
“Is that the professional term for looming?”
“I call it a job. One that’s getting complicated.”
Nick studied me in the dim canvas-filtered light. “You marked it first.”
“Attorney. I pay attention to things that might eat me.”
A faint laugh escaped him. My throat went dry. The adrenaline was still crackling, but the quality of it had shifted.
“Well,” I said, my pulse still sprinting long after the threat had disappeared. “That was exhilarating.”
Nick tilted his head. “You have an unusual definition of exhilarating.”
“I wasn't mauled. Low bar, but it feels appropriate.”
His eyes dropped, then lifted back to mine. “You're impossible.”
I stepped closer. The two feet of air between us was an inefficiency I didn't want to tolerate.
Nick’s hand moved. He tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of my temple.
It was restrained enough to be professional and slow enough to ruin me.
My pulse spiked. I didn’t pull away. Retreat would have been sensible.
Unfortunately, every sensible part of me had stayed outside with the leopard.
“You’re welcome,” I said.
“For what?”
“Providing the evening entertainment.”
Nick’s hand stilled. “You think that was entertainment?”
“I think you enjoy the part where you get to be the calm professional in the dark. And I think”—I leaned in just enough to catch the scent of him, mint, smoked wood, and the clean heat of his skin—“you’re very good at it.”
The canvas held the night close. A breeze lifted a strand of my hair and carried it across his wrist. His hand tightened. The warmth radiating off his body was a physical pull.
Nick’s attention dipped to my mouth again. This time, he didn't look away.
My brain submitted a formal objection. I overruled it and stepped closer.
He didn't lean in. He just waited, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw, measuring exactly how much trouble I was worth.
Nick’s mouth came down on mine a second later. Adrenaline and salt.
Gravity.
My fingers curled into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, needing the solid weight of him to ground the surge. The kiss deepened, hungry and stripped of the professional veneers we both wore like armor.
Nick pulled back a fraction. Barely. “This,” he said, his voice a rough rasp, “is a mistake.”
“Probably.”
His thumb brushed my jaw again, possessive and firm. “Away from the entrance.”
“Is that an order?”
“Yes.”
I closed the last inch between us, chest to chest, my ribs vibrating against his. “Then you should probably enforce it.”
Nick swore softly under his breath, a low sound that sent a fresh jolt through me. He didn't move away. He grabbed my waist and pulled me deeper into the tent, away from the latched canvas and everything watching from the dark.
And the leopard, somewhere out in the dark, was no longer the problem.