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She bit her lip and carefully opened the box. Her breath caught. Inside, attached to a flat silver chain, was a delicate, black stone panther. She picked up the necklace, and the panther’s eyes sparkled in the golden candlelight. Diamonds, she knew without doubt.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “But I can’t—”
“You can and will,” he said. “Here, let me.”
He took the chain from her and placed it around her neck. His fingers caressed her skin, chasing warmth down to her toes. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation.
“I couldn’t resist buying this when I saw it,” he said, his words brushing heat past her ear. “Especially given your reaction when you discovered I shapeshift.”
“A constant reminder of what you are, huh?” She could barely get the words out, her throat was so tight. She quickly drank some wine, but all it did was make her head spin. Or was that merely a side effect of his closeness?
“Or maybe a reminder of what I am not.” She tilted her head back and met his gaze. “Will you show me?”
He frowned and brushed his fingers down her cheek and neck. A tremor ran through her, and deep down a familiar ache began.
“Are you sure you’re ready to see it?”
“No.” But she was sure she had to see it before their relationship could progress any further. To trust him, she had to know him—both versions of him.
He nodded, as if agreeing with her thoughts. “Then watch,” he said and stepped away from her.
For an instant, nothing happened. Then motes of light began to appear around him, fairy dust that glimmered silver and gold. It snaked up his body, blurring the night and his outline as it did so, until there was nothing left of him except for that glitter. Then it was gone, and in his place stood a huge black panther with dark blue eyes.
She gasped softly, but not from fear. Far from it. His shifting shape had been nothing like she’d expected.
It was both awe-inspiring and beautiful—two words she’d never thought could be connected to such an act.
The shimmer appeared again, sweeping up from the big cat’s tail and encompassing its body. Once again, Doyle stood before her.
“You didn’t run screaming from the room, so I take that as a good sign.” Despite his easy grin, there was a hint of worry in his eyes and in his thoughts.
She nodded and somehow found her voice. “That was amazing.” She hesitated, a thousand questions tumbling through her mind. “But where the hell do your clothes go?”
He laughed—a rich sound that was edged with relief. “I don’t know. It’s just part of the magic, I suppose. I never really questioned it.”
“Is there anything that doesn’t change with you?”
He nodded. “Anything that’s pure silver. That chain wouldn’t, for instance.”
She touched the panther. It felt warm against her skin, almost as if it were a living thing rather than being made of stone. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Pure silver is immune to the force of magic.”
“Are your whole family shapeshifters?”
He nodded and sat down in the chair nearest hers. “Except for my mother and one of my sisters.”
“And your children, when you have them?”
He regarded her for a minute, a slight smile tugging his lips. “My children, when we have them, will have a seventy-five percent chance of being shifters.”
His use of we made her smile. He really was convinced they were meant to be; she just wished she were brave enough to feel the same. “Why seventy-five percent? If your mom is a normal human, why wasn’t the distribution of shifter genes fifty-fifty?”
He shrugged. “Obviously the shifter gene is stronger. I’m not a scientist, Kirby. I’m a retired thief turned private investigator. Don’t expect me to explain the technicalities. It just is, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Well, a fat lot of good that does my curiosity.” She hesitated and sipped her wine. “What about control? Is there ever a time you come close to losing it?”
“It hasn’t happened yet.” Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I can see the question burning through your mind, and the answer is no—not even in the heat of passion.”
