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“When?” Ania leaned toward her. “Why would you expect Sevastyan would hit you? Has he done something to indicate that he might hurt you, Flambé? If he has, you need to tell me. Your leopard should indicate to you if there is a problem, but if she hasn’t, if she is too afraid and you can’t rely on her . . .”
“No, no,” Flambé cut her off hastily. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn. She had thought to protect Ania and all of a sudden Ania was trying to protect her. Unfortunately, Ania didn’t understand that her husband would always put Sevastyan before anyone else. Ania was so in love with Mitya that she was blind to that. “I don’t want you to think Sevastyan has done anything to me. He hasn’t. It’s just that . . .” She shrugged and sent Ania a smile, breaking off as if that was the end of the conversation.
Ania frowned, clearly not wanting to drop the subject. “Why would you think that Mitya would hit me? Or hurt me in any way?”
Flambé sighed. This was her fault and she had to play it out. She just had to be so careful. Really, really careful. There was so much at stake, too many lives. She’d misread the situation, or at least Ania’s commitment to her husband. “Shifters can be very cruel, can’t they? In the end, women have very little say and eventually their mates often resort to violence.”
Ania sank back into her chair, looking horrified. “Has that been your experience with shifters in your lair? What about your friends, Flambé? What have they said about their lairs? I haven’t heard you mention any of your friends. Do I know them? Like yours, my family was in this area for a long time. Maybe we know some of the same people.”
Flambé shook her head. “I doubt it. My friends were women like me, strawberry leopards, although those women came in from other countries to try to make a life here. I only got close to a few of them. They didn’t make it or they moved away.” In spite of every effort to keep herself under control, grief welled up along with guilt, so strong she felt her heart might shatter. She pressed her hand hard over her breast.
Ania, with her sharp eyes, couldn’t fail to see that telltale gesture. “Oh, Flambé. What happened?”
Flambé shrugged, tried to look casual. She was talking too much. That was why she didn’t get close to anyone. She didn’t dare let down her guard. “It doesn’t really matter one way or the other. I’m just really sorry about you losing the baby and glad Mitya is good to you.”
“Honey, I hate that you have such a bad idea of male shifters. I don’t know what it’s like where you come from, but not all shifters are cruel to their mates.”
Flambé’s eyebrow shot up. “Are you going to tell me that your husband didn’t tell you that in his lair the men murdered the mothers of their children after they gave them sons? Or that they sold their daughters to other lairs to shifters who would do the same thing to them?”
She couldn’t sit still and she jumped up, her leopard close, driving her to a restless pacing, her breath coming far too fast. There was a strange roaring in her ears and heat rushed through her veins. Beneath her skin, something grotesque moved, causing a terrible itch that left a burn in its wake. She could actually see her skin lift. The entity moved like a wave through her body, leaving behind a firestorm that raged through her until she wanted to scream.
“You should text Sevastyan,” Ania suggested gently. “Your cat is so close and she’s giving you fits. I know what that’s like and it’s so uncomfortable, Flambé.”
Flambé wanted to claw her own skin off. “Uncomfortable is a mild word, but I’ve been told strawberry leopards tend to feel things in a slightly different way. This is torture and it manifests itself in a horrible sensation.” She tried to rub her arms, hating to touch her skin. Her clothes hurt, let along touching with her palm. “I’m a mess. I’m sorry, Ania, I came out here hoping to comfort you and you’re trying to comfort me.”
“Why don’t you want to call Sevastyan to help you?” Ania got up to go to the refrigerator she had in the corner of the office. “I know he’s working, but you’re his first priority.”
“I’m not, you know. Mitya is.” Flambé gratefully took the water from Ania and drank quite a bit down, hoping to put out some of the fire. It didn’t seem to help so she entreated her leopard, trying to soothe her. Go back to sleep, Flamme. When we’re alone, I’ll let you out to run. We’ll be home and no one will be around and you can run free. She made it a promise, meaning it, at least hoping to. Maybe she could let her leopard emerge with no one around. Maybe they could do it together and once Shanty got there, they could just disappear.
“Sevastyan might be head of security here, but you’re his woman. Your cat is in heat and she’s his leopard’s mate.”
“Is she? She’s in her first cycle. So is his leopard. From what I understood from the other strawberry leopard women when I talked to them, it is very easy to get it wrong when you don’t know what you’re doing and your leopard is in heat.”
Flambé didn’t want to add that strawberry leopard shifters were notoriously sexual. It was a curse. That made it even easier to accept a male when one was in the throes of a sexual burn they couldn’t control. Not to mention, she’d been dazed from a blow to the head and Flamme had made the decision for them, half scared out of her mind. Worse, she’d been influenced by Flambé’s continual fantasies regarding Sevastyan Amurov.
She turned away from Ania and paced closer to the glass doors that stared out into the cavernous garage. She longed for the freedom of the outdoors and her plants. It was easier there in the open air, hidden in the foliage, to control the terrible cravings that racked her body at times, the ones she knew had aided in destroying the women of her species. So many things had contributed, but this curse was one of the worst.
She didn’t cry, because like everything else in her world, she couldn’t give anything away. She didn’t have friends anymore because she couldn’t take the loss. Nor could she trust anyone with the lives she held in her hands. She breathed in and out, giving her leopard air. Giving herself air. Telling herself it would pass, just like everything else horrific in her world.
“Do you feel you’ve made a mistake? Does your leopard?” Ania asked.
Keeping her back to Ania, Flambé shrugged. “I have no idea because I don’t know what to expect. I’m very nervous and so is she. She keeps hiding.” She kept her answer simple and what one would anticipate from a woman whose leopard hadn’t emerged and who had no one to instruct her in what might happen.
Immediately, Ania was all sympathy. “It’s natural for both of you to be nervous, Flambé. It doesn’t help that Sevastyan is so dominant and his leopard must be as well. I imagine his male must scare your female every time she starts to rise.”
Flamme was settling, and the terrible itching was receding, allowing the chaos in Flambé’s head to slowly dissipate. She took several deeper breaths and turned back to Ania. “His male is quite terrifying,” she acknowledged. He was. Maybe not so much to Flamme, but he was to Flambé.
That leopard wasn’t the kind to ever let his female go once he mated with her. Twice now, he’d claimed her. He’d dripped his chemical into her body via his saliva and there might be traces, even if she used scent-blockers, for him to track her. He would be persistent. He was that kind of cat. Sevastyan was that kind of man. She pushed down panic and made herself smile at Ania.
“I’m taking it one day at a time.” She had to be so careful that every word she said was strictly the truth. She drank more water and sat back down, letting Ania talk to her about how good it could be when a male leopard protected his mate and really cared for her. It sounded like a fairy tale to her.
THE sun had long since set before Ania and Flambé returned to the house. Sevastyan was aware of every minute ticking by. He’d checked on them dozens of times, ensuring they were looked after. He’d sent food out and it was reported that neither woman ate much. He didn’t like that. He had a battle plan to set up. The property was large and he wanted to make certain every point of entry was covered
. Every team knew what was expected of them. Mitya and Ania had to be covered at all times. Still, he wanted to make certain the women were cared for.
He was tired and he’d been without his woman far too long. Shturm was in a foul mood, raging at the long separation, especially when he knew his mate was close to rising. It was a dangerous time to be away from Flambé. Sevastyan hadn’t gone so long without sex since he’d been with her, his body now used to getting rid of the buildup of aggression just by stalking down the hall, going to her office and finding her there, always willing to be with him. Always ready for him. One lousy day without and he found himself in such a foul mood he wasn’t fit to be in anyone’s company.
Ania came to Mitya’s office with Flambé, but as usual, his woman just stood outside in the hallway, waiting with Kirill and Matvei for him. Ania kissed Mitya as he stood up and went to her, meeting her halfway.
“I’m tired, honey. I’m going to lie down.”
“I’ll meet you upstairs,” Mitya said.
Ania nodded, and patted Sevastyan’s arm as she passed him, waving at Flambé as she rounded the corner to go to the staircase leading to the master bedroom.
“Everything’s in place, Mitya, stick close to the house,” Sevastyan reiterated. “Call me if anything is out of the ordinary.”
A dozen strobes flashed and then went off abruptly. Instantly everyone went quiet. He stepped in front of Mitya, and Kirill and Matvei did the same with Flambé and Sevastyan.
“Someone came up the front drive, Zinoviy,” Sevastyan said softly into his radio.
“Cops. Two of them.”
Sevastyan exchanged a long look with Mitya, who cursed. There was another long silence while they all waited.
Vikenti came down the hall toward them. “The cops are here to talk to Sevastyan,” he announced. “Ray Harding and Jeff Myers. I’ve got them in the front room. Zinoviy is watching them, making certain they don’t try to plant any bugs.”
Flambé frowned. “Why would the police want to talk to you, Sevastyan?”
“They always want to talk to us about something, malen’koye plamya.” Sevastyan gave her his most casual smile and started down the hall.
Mitya went with him, Kirill and Matvei followed along with Vikenti. Flambé trailed after them. Mitya stopped abruptly, which meant all of them did, including Sevastyan. Mitya whirled around and shook his head at her.
“There’s no need for you to come, Flambé,” Mitya stated. “I’m sure you have plenty of work to do.”
She went very still and for the first time every man in the room felt her leopard rise. It was fast and the little female was furious. The mood of a female leopard was palpable. Impossible to ignore. Edgy. Dangerous.
Flambé’s skin glowed. “You aren’t my leopard’s mate.” Each word was very distinctive. Her gaze swept past Mitya to meet Sevastyan’s. She was all cat in that moment. Her eyes pure green. It was a challenge. She was forcing a choice in front of the men.
Sevastyan fucking hated what he knew he had to do. This was going to cost him and he was already on shaky ground with her. He hadn’t sealed her to him, but he couldn’t afford for Flambé to overhear anything the cops asked him about the night he’d left Mitya’s to go hunting Franco Matherson.
“Baby, go to your office.” He spoke softly but it was a command, nothing less. “You can wait for me there.”
Flambé looked at him for one long moment and then she was gone. Her leopard was gone as well. He felt the retreat. The suppression. They all did. She turned and walked away from him, straight toward the back of the house, which could mean anything. He was fairly certain she wasn’t heading to her office, more likely straight to the back door.
He had no idea where Rolan was. He had no idea where Franco Matherson was. He swore under his breath. His sins seemed to be piling up. He stood for a long moment staring down at the floor before turning his icy gaze on his cousin. “You can fucking burn in hell, Mitya. I won’t be forgiving that shit anytime soon. When this is over, you can find yourself a new head of security. Kirill, I need you to watch over her for me. If I lose her, I lose everything.”
He turned his back on his cousin, not waiting for his response, and stalked down the hall to the cops, knowing they were there to ask him about Franco Matherson and the feud they supposedly had. Matherson could burn in hell as well.
Stalking down the hall straight into the sitting room where the cops waited for him, he entered, letting his rage fill the air, blasting hot, violent red. He knew they felt the feral emotion. The walls could barely contain the predator in him. Shturm raged with him, a cruel, deadly leopard, furious and determined to break free, to kill anyone in his way so he could get to his mate.
“Gentlemen. Make this fast and to the point. I’m busy and you’ve come at a very bad time for me, so this had better not be a fucking bullshit harassment visit.” He didn’t bother to take one of the chairs as Mitya did, but remained standing as the other bodyguards had done. “Let’s get started.”
14
KIRILL and Matvei had conveyed to Sevastyan that there had been a very brief argument at the back door with Flambé the night before. Flambé wanted to leave Mitya’s house, just as Sevastyan had known she would, and they had refused to allow it. She’d asked if she was a prisoner, and they had tried to be as gentle as possible with her, reminding her there could be danger. He knew they genuinely liked her. Who wouldn’t—other than Mitya. Mitya seemed to really dislike her. And she disliked him.
Mitya. Sevastyan knew he wasn’t being fair to his cousin. Mitya was trying to protect him, just as he’d tried for years, when he was a child. Looking at it from his perspective, Flambé appeared as cold as ice to Sevastyan. She wouldn’t so much as hold his hand. If one compared Ania, with her loving, adoring looks at her husband, touching him every chance she got, to Flambé, who wouldn’t go near Sevastyan, who could blame Mitya for thinking Flambé had no feelings for him? Sevastyan didn’t really believe she did either. He hoped for it, but he didn’t believe it. Still, his leopard was mated to hers.
Sevastyan sighed and paced back and forth across the kitchen floor. He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of soft pants riding low on his hips, wondering if he should try to use a tie to get Flambé to talk to him. She had refused all night. He didn’t blame her. She was silent on the ride home in the car, but the bodyguards were with them. He hadn’t tried to talk to her either.
The moment they arrived in the house, she’d gone straight upstairs and was in the shower. She’d spent a great deal of time there. He knew she was crying. He fucking hated that with every breath he drew, but he wasn’t certain how to handle her tears. She was completely closed off from him. She’d shut him out. He felt the distance between them. He didn’t just feel it, Shturm felt it as well. His cat prowled and snarled, pacing back and forth as if afraid she might bolt, taking his mate with her.
No matter how many ways he’d opened the conversation, trying to explain, she had shut it down, turning away from him, acting indifferent, uncaring, curling into the smallest ball he’d ever seen in the middle of their bed while he was so restless, his body raging at him for relief, desperate to rid itself of the buildup of aggression that was worsening by the moment. He didn’t want to use the ropes. He wanted to talk to Flambé, to try to sort out what was between them, to come to terms together and commit to each other.
Her leopard had to emerge soon. The few glimpses he’d manage to catch, the female had been potent, bordering on desperate. She was so close. Heaven help him, but she needed to make her appearance before Rolan made his. Somehow, and he wasn’t certain how, he had to make this right with Flambé.
The fragrance with little hints of freesia, Moroccan rose and Egyptian jasmine spiced with cinnamon, cloves and coriander drifted to him. He inhaled deeply, taking her into his lungs. She smelled like heaven to him. The moment he scented her, he tasted her on his tongue. That set up a craving. He was addicted to that taste, the combination.
; He turned to greet her. She looked pale, dark circles under her eyes. She’d slept restlessly. “Good morning.” He didn’t have a great opening line and he needed one. Desperately. They had to talk things out.
She nodded to him. To get to the coffee pot, she’d have to walk past him. She could skirt around the long kitchen aisle, but that would only prove she was avoiding him. She didn’t even look at the coffee pot. She went straight to the refrigerator, took out a bottle of water, and went out the door to the verandah.
Sevastyan sighed and followed her. “We’re going to have to talk about it, Flambé.”
She leaned against the railing, staring out over the expanse of property. She didn’t even turn her head. “I don’t see any point. You explain. I accept the explanation. Then everything goes to hell all over again. It’s kind of a vicious cycle, Sevastyan.” She took a sip of water. “Do you know what I like about plants? About trees and shrubs? You can count on them. They’re always going to perform the same way.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I’m beginning to see that in you. I just had different expectations.” Her half smile held no humor. “Leopards don’t really change their spots.”
“What does that mean?”
She turned away from him. It never failed to amaze him how much she appealed to him. Everything about her. He should have been telling her that from the start. Now, if he said it she wouldn’t believe him. He tried to think what Mitya did for Ania. Mitya could be tough, even brutal, and Ania and Mitya had a very healthy sex life, but what were the small things that his cousin did that made Ania know he loved her beyond all else?
Actions were always so much better than words. He’d made the mistake of relying on their sex life, their connection through the ropes, and not putting any real thought into the little things that would have reassured Flambé that he meant to put her first in their life together. Had he done that, what had transpired the night before wouldn’t have caused such a visceral reaction.