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Ania looked from her husband to him, going from challenging to vulnerable in one short moment. That look cut deep. He’d caught brief flashes of something very close to that in Flambé’s eyes. Ania moved past him, quicksilver like Ania was, and he didn’t have time to move out of her way. She brushed up against him and he scented blood. Ania? Bleeding? That time of the month maybe, but it didn’t seem quite right. It wasn’t his business, but still, it was worrisome.
Frowning, he pushed back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest, leaving the door open. He wanted to be able to keep an eye on Flambé while Ania talked to Mitya.
The moment Ania moved into the room, Mitya’s hard features softened. He spun his chair around immediately, his blue eyes sweeping over her from head to toe as if checking her for damage.
“I’m sorry I interrupted you, Mitya. I wanted to take Flambé to see my latest work out in the garage, but I should have just texted you or Sevastyan. I had no idea Rolan was anywhere near.”
That told Sevastyan that Mitya shared their history with his wife. He and Gorya exchanged a long look. Ania had gone through one war already with their family when Lazar, Mitya’s father, had come to kill him. It couldn’t be easy to ask her to go through another.
Sevastyan studied Ania. She hadn’t hesitated as she crossed the room to go straight to her husband. She leaned into him. Everything about her body language screamed that she adored him. When she tilted her face up to his, the love on her face was almost so blinding, so intimate, it seemed wrong to witness it. Mitya bent toward her, his hands gentle as he cupped her face.
“We aren’t certain where he is, kotyonok,” he replied, calling his wife kitten, his nickname for her. “We just have to make certain you’re safe.”
Sevastyan glanced down the hall to Flambé. She never touched him outside of sex. She didn’t move her body close to his even when they were alone. She didn’t lean into him. There was no look of adoration unless he had her in the ropes, one of the reasons he wanted to tie her more and more. He loved that look on her face and in her eyes when he took her. She kept herself emotionally—and to an extent, physically—away from him.
He went very still inside. All along, his cousin had tried to tell him that he had made a mistake with his choice. He thought it was more about him being fucked up. He’d known all along he was, but then all of them, every Amurov, had thought they were—until they found their mate. Sevastyan had been different. The others had been able to stop having sex when their leopards had gone so crazy and wanted to tear apart any partners. Sevastyan had been unable to do so.
The craving for sex had grown stronger in him. The worse the rage, the more the need for sex built until he had no choice but to go to the club. Not that the differences ended there. Mitya might be extremely dominant, but his sex didn’t border on brutal. He didn’t want or need the kind of kink Sevastyan did.
Ania loved Mitya. She really loved him. He knew Evangeline loved Fyodor. Ashe loved Timur. Flambé didn’t want to even connect with him no matter what he tried to do. He reached out over and over to her. Every time he thought he was close, she retreated. Granted, he didn’t know the first damn thing about a relationship, but he was trying. He was going to have to face the fact that there was something wrong with him.
Abruptly, he turned and stalked out of the office, straight down the hall to Flambé. They’d had a good day the day before; at least, he thought they’d made progress. Today, she’d come with him to work and she’d been quiet, thoughtful, but she hadn’t completely retreated from him as she normally would have. He knew she didn’t like his cousin and avoided him as much as she could. Mitya was often rude to her. He was going to talk to his cousin and ask him to try with her, even though Mitya didn’t understand her.
He walked right up to Flambé where she stood, back pressed against the wall. There was nowhere for her to retreat. She straightened to her full height, which compared to his was ridiculous, so she tilted her head up as he caged her in, his hands on either side of her, his chest a barrier as his eyes blazed down into hers.
“Is there something wrong with me?”
Her long lashes fluttered. She looked genuinely puzzled. “What are you talking about?” She blinked again and her eye color changed. She gleamed with golden fury. She turned her head toward the office and he heard the hiss of rage. Behind her, where she’d braced herself against the wall with one hand, claws dug into perfect wood. “That bastard. Does he do that to make himself feel better? No, Sevastyan. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“He isn’t really a bastard.”
“You know he is.”
“Ania loves him.”
“I know she does.”
“But you can’t love me. What’s wrong with me?”
Her breath caught in her throat. Her lashes went down and then swept back up. The fury faded and for a moment he caught fear mixed with something so close to what he was certain was love his heart clutched tight in his chest. So tight it hurt. Burned. She did feel something for him and it terrified her. Still, he didn’t trust himself. He wanted to believe it so much he might have made up that very brief look. She had become protective of him for just a few moments, even if now she was stiff and prickly.
Shturm? He turned to the one companion he could count on. Through every nightmare, his leopard had been there for him, trying to protect him, trying to give him truth and stand for him, guard him when there was no one else. Does she feel anything at all for me besides fear? Anything like Ania feels for Mitya?
He tried to convey tender feelings much like he felt for his leopard, but it was hard when one had to use images. Shturm had been in the world a long time now, hearing and learning, and he was intelligent. He picked up words, but Sevastyan wasn’t certain if he grasped the concept of love.
She does.
Shturm felt aggressive. Every bit as moody and ready to fight as he did. He needed to be cool and in control when he planned his strategy against a master strategist like Rolan. At least his leopard had given him some much needed reassurance. Flambé was still running scared, but she had developed some feelings for him in spite of herself.
“There’ve been some complications, baby. Maybe danger. Remember I told you about my father, Rolan, and how much he despises us? He slipped into the States and was in Houston. I had eyes on him but he got past them and now he’s in the wind. I’ve got to lock everyone down.”
She nodded. “I understand. Do you want me to go home?”
He shook his head. “I’d prefer you work here where I know you’re safe. Our house is safe, but when I have my eyes on you, I just feel better. Ania said she wanted to take you out to her garage and show you something. The two of you can carry on as normal, just with a team watching over you. They’ll stay out of your way as much as possible. Ania is used to it and hopefully you’ll get used to it as well.”
He saw the beginnings of a protest, but she locked it down immediately. He detested that. She didn’t argue. He wished she would. Before, he took her compliance as part of her submissive nature, but now he doubted her silence had anything at all to do with compliance or even submission. Outside of sex, and from the little he’d managed to get out of her, Flambé didn’t show her submissive side to many. She most likely simply didn’t argue and went her own way when she chose. That was not a good thing for him.
Ania came up to them. “I’d like to show Flambé some of the things I’ve been working on, Sevastyan.” Her tone was placating. She put her hand on his arm and looked up at him. He could see the affection in her eyes.
Flambé made a single sound, a low vibrating noise in her throat that was a growl, cut off by a choking cough. Sevastyan immediately caught her arms and pulled her to him, worried her throat might still be sore. He’d given her honey in tea before she went to bed and again that morning before they’d come to his work. The moment he gathered her against him, he felt his male leopard’s smug satisfaction.
They did not like an
other female touching us.
Sevastyan felt a little smug himself even though Flambé all but pushed off his chest to get away. She might not ever be one of those women who was overly demonstrative toward him in public. He resisted catching her red topknot and tugging her head back so he could take command of her mouth and light a match to her dynamite. Instead he brushed a kiss on top of her head.
“Have fun with Ania, baby,” he murmured.
FLAMBÉ followed Ania down the hall, past her office to the very end where the back door leading to the garage and gardens were. She found it really quite lovely, but wished she could implement a few changes. The pavers were perfect, the darker colors showing off the flowers and bushes with their variegated leaves, but the path wasn’t quite wide enough and needed more of a definition. She would plant some more lacy vines going up trellises and the low fencing around the walkways leading to the garage.
“Are you all right, Flambé?” Ania asked as she stepped back to allow Zinoviy and Vikenti, the two bodyguards, to enter the garage while she stayed waiting for them to ensure no one was lying in wait to harm her in any way. Two other bodyguards, Trey Sinclair and Kyanite Boston, remained with them. They kept their distance, facing away from the two women, scanning the grounds around them, all senses enhanced by their leopards. Ania ignored all of the them as if she wasn’t aware they were hovering close.
Flambé refused to allow Flamme even close to the surface, although she would have felt safer. The bodyguards were too close and the female was getting far too near her heat. Flambé’s body already was so sensitive to touch without the added hormones of her female, she didn’t dare allow her to rise even for a moment with the men in close proximity. It would be a disaster for everyone. She had no doubt in her mind that Sevastyan would murder any male that challenged him for her—and they would if Flamme or she became seductive.
“Yes, I’m just uncomfortable.” She kept her voice as low as possible. Leopards could hear about five times better than humans and sometimes, depending upon the shifter, even better. She was careful, but she knew the guards probably heard her—and scented her. It was impossible to cover the scent of a female in heat, no matter how she tried.
“We’ll be inside in a minute and the guards will stay outside,” Ania assured.
They waited in silence, Flambé studying the way Ania cradled her wrist. The cast was slim and one that could be removed when necessary. It seemed very unlikely that a leopard could break her wrist. She tried to imagine various ways it could happen and none seemed too likely.
Eventually, Zinoviy and Vikenti returned and gave Ania the go-ahead. She flashed them a smile and hurried inside but didn’t close the door. “I love my space. No one comes uninvited, without my permission, unless Sevastyan says we’re on lockdown for a reason,” Ania informed her. “I told Mitya I wanted a place to design my own cars, work on engines and just disappear for a few hours without feeling like I was getting swallowed up in his world.”
“This is your dream? What you want above all other things?” Flambé asked. She’d been out to the garage with Ania several times before and had seen the drawings and custom works, but often wondered if Mitya had given her the job to push her into staying close to home.
Ania nodded and indicated the room built mostly of glass off to one side where several comfortable chairs formed a cozy circle. “Let’s go in there. I like that room. I chose everything in it. The carpet, the chairs, the privacy drapes, all of it.”
“Why do you have privacy drapes if no one comes in here?” Flambé asked curiously, following Ania around car parts and the engine hanging from the complicated pulley system.
Ania, a slight flush on her face, gestured toward the very comfortable chairs as she closed the door. “There are times when I welcome my husband’s visits. Sevastyan or one of the other bodyguards is never far away. We can get a little crazy sometimes.”
Flambé curled up in the soft blue of the chair. The fabric rubbed over the sensitive skin of her arm, sending a terrible burning wave over her body. She forced herself to stay still, knowing from experience the sensation would go away if she could just ride it out.
“Well, whatever you use this room for, I like how you designed it. It’s beautiful and feminine, right in the middle of your garage with car parts, tools and engines everywhere. It’s sort of a counterpoint to the tools, like an oasis. When I design my gardens, I sometimes use something similar to make a statement.”
“What would be my statement?” Ania stretched out in her chair, her legs in front of her, feet on an ottoman.
“That you’re feminine but you have a wealth of knowledge in a field that is predominately male. You’re not willing to give up being feminine to prove to anyone that you probably know far more than most others when it comes to taking a car apart and putting it back together. You don’t feel you have anything to prove at all and I think that’s a powerful statement.”
Ania stared at her for a moment. “You get that just from me putting together this little office?”
“And the way you’re sitting in the chair. You’re relaxed and open. You’re not closed off at all. You spent time putting together your office and choosing each piece inside it.” Flambé gestured to the glass windows that looked into the garage where the engine hung. “Clearly you enjoy looking at your work, so you’re excited about what you do.”
Flambé was well aware she would appear closed off if anyone studied the way she was sitting. She had curled up, made herself small, legs tucked under her, the classic way to look non-threatening. “How did you manage to hurt your wrist, Ania?” She was very careful to keep her tone interested. There wasn’t a single accusatory note in her voice.
Ania rubbed her forearm. “I feel so silly.” She gestured toward the far corner where there was a series of wooden planks going up to the roof. They were vertical, straight up, and each was a good distance apart. “I decided to climb those and I just fell. I wasn’t paying attention.”
Flambé closed her eyes and shook her head. How often had she heard the same ridiculous excuse from a female shifter? She took a deep breath. “Leopards don’t fall, Ania. And if they do, they have flexible spines and they turn in midair and catch themselves. If Mitya hurts you, I can help you.” She kept her voice low. “I know it seems like there’s no way out, but there is.”
Ania sat up slowly, her gaze meeting Flambé’s steadily. “Flambé, Mitya didn’t hurt me. He would never hurt me. Never. I really did fall. I was crying and I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing. I never should have been climbing when I was so distraught.”
Flambé could hear the truth in her voice. She waited a few moments to get her heartbeat under control. She’d almost ruined everything. This woman was Sevastyan’s cousin’s wife. She most likely told her husband everything. “Why were you crying? You certainly don’t have to tell me if it’s too personal. Friendships are so rare for me and I . . .” Deliberately she trailed off. She genuinely wanted to know, but it was necessary to divert Ania’s attention from her terrible error.
Ania stared down at the cast on her wrist for so long Flambé didn’t think she would reply, but then she took a breath and looked up. “I had just miscarried for the second time. I was really upset. I know it wasn’t my fault but I felt like somehow I couldn’t do what every other woman in the world seemed to do so easily. I want a child. I didn’t think I did, but once I knew I was pregnant, I was so happy. Mitya, of course, is only worried about me; at least, that’s what he says, but I know he hurts as well. I hate that this happened a second time.”
Flambé looked around the office to discover the box of tissues a table away. She retrieved the box and handed it to Ania, who had begun to cry. “I’m so sorry, Ania. How terrible. I had no idea. What did the doctor say?”
“He said these things happen and that it doesn’t mean I can’t carry, but that he’d run some tests. I know Mitya thinks it’s him, and that if for some reason he can’t give me children I’d w
ant to leave him, but I wouldn’t. It would hurt not to have them, but it would hurt more not to have him.”
“If it’s you who can’t have children, would he leave you?” Flambé asked, her voice very soft. She knew she shouldn’t push, but she couldn’t help herself. “Is that what you think?”
Ania shook her head. “That’s the last thing Mitya would do. He’s told me a million times he doesn’t care if we have children or not. I can hear truth. He means it. I just wanted the baby . . .” Ania trailed off.
Flambé scraped her teeth back and forth on the pad of her finger, wishing she had words to comfort Ania, but there were no words. No way to comfort, not in this situation.
Ania’s gaze was suddenly very focused on her, and Flambé could see her cat watching her as well. “Does Sevastyan hit you, Flambé? I’ve known him forever and I can’t imagine it, but they say you never know. It’s okay to tell me. He’s very intense, and dominant. Really, if you needed help, I would help you.”
The direct question caused a sudden queasiness in the pit of her stomach. She’d done that so many times, lulled a woman into a false sense of security and then asked the important question—was she a victim of domestic violence? It was so much more complicated with shifters. Leopards were involved as well as their human counterparts, and leopards were so much more difficult to get away from.
Flambé shook her head, rubbing her palms up and down her arms, suddenly covered in goose bumps. “When he tries that, it will only be once.”