It rumbled through the air with the lazy confidence of something that did not need to hurry because whatever it wanted was already within reach.

Swanly swallowed.

Her face was still wet. Her nose was still running. Her hand was still clutching the useless branch. She stared at the three cubs in front of her, and the three cubs stared back with innocent, expectant eyes.

Very slowly, Swanly whispered, "She’s behind me, isn’t she?"

The cubs blinked.

The largest cub tilted his head.

The middle cub looked confused.

The smallest cub glanced behind Swanly, then back at her.

Then all three nodded.

Swanly closed her eyes.

Of course.

Of course the mama panther had arrived at the exact moment Swanly had been sitting on the ground scream-crying with her children. Why would the universe choose mercy when it could choose public humiliation and death?

Behind her, the enormous black panther lowered his head slightly.

He had found them crying.

All four of them.

His cubs were sitting in the leaves with wet faces, and his mate, the female who had been asleep for so long that he had begun to fear she would never wake, was kneeling in front of them with tears on her cheeks and a branch in her hand.

For a moment, even his beast mind did not know what to do with that scene.

He had imagined many things when she woke.

He had imagined her pushing him away again.

He had imagined her turning her face from the cubs again.

He had imagined anger, disgust, silence, hatred, all the familiar wounds she had given him since she was forced into his den as his mate.

He had not imagined her crying with their sons like the four of them had formed a tiny grief circle in the leaves.

His dark golden eyes narrowed.

Was she hurt?

Was her mind unclear?

Why were the cubs crying?

Why was she crying?

Why was she holding a branch like that pitiful twig could threaten anything larger than a beetle?

Swanly did not know any of this.

Swanly only knew that something huge was breathing behind her, and if she turned around, she might see the last thing she would ever see.

She opened one eye and looked at the cubs.

"If I apologize to your mother very sincerely," she whispered, "do you think she’ll spare me?"

The smallest cub frowned. "Mother?"

Swanly’s heart nearly exploded.

"Yes. Your mother. The giant thing behind me. Keep up."

The middle cub looked even more confused.

The largest cub opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Swanly’s survival instinct finally wrestled control away from her fear.

She shot to her feet.

"Sorry!" she screamed over her shoulder.

Then she ran.

She did not get far.

The huge black panther moved.

He did not even take a dramatic leap. He simply surged forward with terrifying speed, silent paws crossing the ground like the forest had bent itself to carry him. One second Swanly was running between the trees, and the next, he was in front of her, blocking her path with a body so large and black it seemed to swallow the sunlight.

Swanly slammed to a stop.

The panther stood before her, taller than any normal animal had the right to be, his shoulders powerful, his fur dark as midnight water, his eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her knees weaken.

Her breath caught.

The cubs padded after them quickly, but Swanly barely heard them.

The panther’s eyes darkened the moment she ran.

Possessiveness moved through him before reason could stop it.

His mate had woken.

His mate had stood.

His mate had tried to flee from him again.

The old pain tore open inside him, deep and raw, but he did not let her pass. He could not. The last time she had tried to escape him completely, she had bitten into a poison fruit with her own teeth and swallowed death rather than stay by his side.

He had forced the poison from her body.

He had carried her through fever.

He had watched her sleep for days, his cubs curled near her cold feet, waiting for a mother who had never wanted them.

And now she was awake.

Awake, trembling, crying, terrified of him.

The beast man did not understand.

Swanly did not know why the huge panther was staring at her like that.

She only knew she was dead.

Very dead.

So dead.

She let out a tiny whimper and immediately dropped backward onto the ground.

Her legs had stopped being legs. They had become decorative noodles.

"God," she whispered, crawling back on her hands and heels with her eyes squeezed shut. "Please. God, please. Just this once. Save me just this once, and I swear I will become a better person. I will stop cursing at vending machines. I will stop stealing extra sauce packets. I will stop judging people who clap when planes land. Please."

Her back hit something hard.

A tree.

She did not open her eyes.

She pressed herself against the trunk and shook so badly the leaves near her knees trembled.

The black panther stared down at her.

His gaze moved over her face, her trembling hands, her closed eyes, the tears still wet on her lashes.

His chest tightened.

She looked terrified.

Not disgusted.

Not furious.

Terrified.

The cubs came to his side, all three of them tiny beside his massive paws.

He turned his head toward them.

The largest cub blinked up at him.

The middle cub sniffled.

The smallest cub gave a helpless little shrug with his whole tiny body, as if to say he truly had no idea what was happening either.

"She woke," the largest cub said softly.

"She shout," the smallest added.

"She say no Mama," the middle whispered, and his little mouth trembled again.

The male’s eyes sharpened.

Swanly did not hear them clearly through the roaring in her ears. She was too busy bargaining with every god from every religion she could remember and a few she was inventing on the spot.

"I did not know you were their mother," she blurted with her eyes still shut. "I swear. I thought this was a dream. I did not mean to throw them. Well, I did, but I didn’t know they were real. Also, one of them licked my nose first, so technically everyone made mistakes today."

The black panther went still.

The cubs stared at her.

The smallest cub’s ears twitched.

"But that’s Papa."

Swanly’s eyes snapped open.

She looked at the cub.

Then, very slowly, she looked at the enormous black panther standing in front of her.

"Papa?" she whispered.

The cub nodded proudly. "Papa."

Swanly’s soul left, saw the situation, and tried to return to the zombie apocalypse out of preference.

"That is worse," she said faintly.

The three cubs blinked.

Swanly pressed herself harder against the tree. "That is so much worse. If it was your mother, maybe she would understand maternal mercy or something. I don’t know. I was desperate. But your father? No. Fathers are worse. Fathers protect children like angry walls with teeth. He is definitely going to kill me."

The black panther stared at her.

His confusion deepened.

Did she truly not recognize him?

Did she not know his scent?

Did she not remember the den, the cubs, the poison fruit, the nights he had sat beside her while her breath faded and returned, faded and returned?

She had hated him.

That much he knew.

She had hated the bond. Hated the cubs. Hated his touch. Hated his den. Hated being his mate so much that she had chosen poison over him.

But this fear was different.

This was not the cold hatred he knew from her.

This was wild, confused, unfamiliar terror.

And for reasons he could not name, it hurt worse.

Swanly squeezed her eyes shut again when the panther lowered his head slightly.

"I’m sorry," she whispered quickly. "I’m so sorry. I did not kidnap your children. They followed me. Actually, I tried to abandon them responsibly, but they were very fast."

The smallest cub said, "Mama run slow."

Swanly choked. "Do not expose me in front of your father."

The panther’s ears flicked.

Then a deep voice rumbled through the air.

"Swanly."

Her whole body froze.

The voice was not inside her head.

It came from the panther.

Low. Rough. Male.

Swanly opened her eyes.

The huge black panther stood in front of her, watching her with those dark golden eyes.

Then his body began to change.

Swanly’s breath caught in her throat.

The black fur seemed to draw inward like shadow being pulled under skin. The massive paws stretched, reshaping into long, powerful hands. The broad shoulders rose higher. The spine shifted. The beast’s body unfolded into the shape of a man, tall and strong, with dark hair falling around a face Swanly did not even get the chance to study.

Because the first thing she saw was not his face.

The first thing she saw was that he was completely, terrifyingly naked, very male, and standing directly over her while she was still on the ground beneath him.

Swanly’s eyes widened in pure, horrified shock.