Nischal [leopard spots 9] by Bailey Bradford Page A

seemed determined to express their suicidal tendencies. Preston just missed hitting two of them not more than a mile apart.
    “There’s easier ways to get us dinner,” Nischal said after the third time Preston had to brake and swerve to avoid taking out a Bambi lookalike. “Like a drive-thru, maybe.”
    Preston considered flipping Nischal off but didn’t want to risk offending the man. He didn’t really know Nischal, after all. “Let me know if you see a sign for something you want. There’s not a lot of options until we go through somewhere like Ozona. Even then our choices are limited. Still, it’s better than gas station food.”
    “I don’t care as long as we can eat soon. I’m starving.”
    Preston remembered how thin Nischal was, and knew the words weren’t much of an exaggeration. “How’s Sabin?”
    “Still sleeping. I don’t doubt that he’s worn out.” Nischal finally climbed into the front passenger seat and grinned at him. Preston saw that he’d got dressed again, which was disappointing but probably for the best. “If it weren’t for you, I’d probably want to sleep for a month. Being drugged as we were for so long doesn’t lend itself to a true, restful sleep.”
    Preston pretended to consider this as he hummed tunelessly. “Well, maybe I should just make sure you get plenty of sleep, then—”
    “I don’t think so,” Nischal interrupted, reaching right across and palming Preston’s package. “You promised to teach me many, many dirty things.”
    “Yeah,” Preston gritted out, trying not to be distracted by his burgeoning erection. More deer shone in the headlights, their eyes bright and eerie. At least those ones had the decency to remain on the roadside and munch on the grass or whatever it was they were chewing. “Shouldn’t they be scared of cars?”
    Nischal gave Preston’s junk a squeeze. “They’re used to them. Are you trying to ignore me?”
    “I couldn’t even if I did try,” Preston muttered. “I just don’t want to have a wreck, and I swear these damn deer are either suicidal, adrenaline junkies or they’re involved in some kind of conspiracy to off humans. Sheesh, I’ve almost seen as many dead deer as live ones, too.”
    “It’s the time of year, and the drought,” Nischal told him, letting off teasing his cock. “They have little water and food in their normal habitats. Or, as you have divined, they are out to contribute to solving the overpopulation of humans on the planet.”
    “I think it’s definitely that last one,” Preston said as he blasted the horn at one deer that was looking like it was going to dart in front of him. The damned critter didn’t even move. Preston zipped into the left-hand lane. “I need a tank if I’m going to drive this way often.”
    “Are you planning on coming back to the area?”
    “Never.” Preston pointed to a blue sign. “See anything on there you wanna eat?”
    Nischal grunted and a strange silence stretched between them as Preston signalled to take the next exit. He pulled over into the right lane again. The speed limit for the exit ramp was forty-five. Preston snorted. How was anyone supposed to drop down from going eighty or so to that?
    Nischal turned to look at him and Preston had a glimpse of his serious expression before looking at the road again as he took the exit.
    “I can’t read or write.”
    That confession got Preston’s full attention and he slowed the Murano down to a crawl so he could look at Nischal. “What—”
    “When would we have learned?” Nischal asked, but his embarrassment was clear in the way his face turned darker. Preston could see the change since there were plenty of street lights lining the access road. Nischal averted his face. “We were leopard more than human growing up, and I told you, we were isolated.”
    But Nischal was ashamed, that was obvious in his gruff voice and in the way he’d pulled away, leaning against his door.
    “It’s okay.” Preston nodded