Page 50 of Tiger's Curse
Ren made a tiger noise that seemed to mean yes.
Crushing the flower to my nose, I inhaled the sweet fragrance deeply and flipped over on my stomach to look at the tiger at the side of my bed.
“Thank you, Ren. It’s beautiful!” I kissed him on the top of his furry head, scratched him behind the ears, and laughed as he leaned into the scratch. “Would you like me to read you some moreRomeo and Juliet?”
He lifted a paw and placed it on my leg.
“I guess that means yes. Okay, let’s see. Where were we? Ah, Act II, Scene III. Enter Friar Lawrence and then Romeo.”
We had just finished the scene when Romeo kills Tybalt when Ren interrupted.
“Romeo was a fool,” Ren said, suddenly back in human form. “His big mistake was not announcing the marriage. He should have told both families. Keeping the marriage a secret will ruin Romeo. Secrets like that can be the downfall of any man. They’re often more destructive than the sword.”
Ren sat there quietly, wrapped in his own thoughts.
I asked softly, “Should I continue?”
He shook off his momentary melancholy and smiled. “Please.”
I repositioned myself to sit up against the headboard and pulled a pillow on my lap. He changed back into a tiger and leapt up onto the foot of the bed. He stretched out on his side at the bottom of the huge mattress.
I started reading again. Every time I read something Ren didn’t like, he flicked his tail in annoyance.
“Quit twitching, Ren! You’re tickling my toes!”
That statement only inspired him to do it more. When I got to the end of the play, I closed the book and peeked at Ren to see if he was still awake. He was, and he’d changed back to a man again. He was still lying on his side at the foot of the bed with his head propped up on his arm.
I asked, “What did you think? Were you surprised at the ending?”
Ren considered his answer. “Yes and no. Romeo made some bad decisions throughout the entire play. He was more worried about himself than his wife. He didn’t deserve her.”
“Does the ending bother you that much? Most people focus on the romance of it, the tragedy that they could never be together. I’m sorry if you didn’t like it.”
Ren’s thoughtful faced brightened. “On the contrary, I quite enjoyed it. I haven’t had someone to talk with about plays or poetry in . . . well, since my parents died. I used to write poetry myself, in fact.”
I admitted softly, “Me too. I miss having someone to talk with.”
Ren’s handsome face lit up in a warm smile, and I suddenly became preoccupied with a string on my sleeve. He hopped off the bed, picked up my hand, and bowed deeply.
“Perhaps I will read some of my poetry to you next time.”
He flipped my hand over and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on my palm. His eyes twinkled with mischief. “I leave you with a holy palmer’s kiss. Goodnight, Kelsey.”
Ren quietly closed the door behind him, and I tugged the covers up to my chin. My palm still tingled where he’d kissed it. I smelled my rose again, smiled, and tucked it into the arrangement on my dresser.
Wiggling under my covers, I sighed dreamily and fell asleep.
13
waterfall
the next morning I got up and found a half-full backpack by my door with a note from Mr. Kadam. It said that I should pack three or four days’ worth of clothes and to include my swimsuit.
The swimsuit, hung overnight, was dry now. I tossed it in my bag, included a towel for good measure, piled the rest of my things on top of that, and made my way downstairs.
Mr. Kadam and Ren were already in the Jeep when I hopped in. As soon as my seatbelt clicked, Mr. Kadam handed me a breakfast bar and a bottle of juice and sped off.
“What’s the hurry?” I asked.
