Leopard's Wrath (A Leopard Novel)

by Christine Feehan

  Ania ran to her father and checked his pulse. There was a gash over his left eye where someone had struck him with a pistol. She tried to wake him, but Mitya stopped her. He was back to his human form, naked, his roped muscles rippling as he took the gun from her, laid it on the bed and gripped her upper arms.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? Didn’t I tell you to stay behind me at all times? Had you run into this room, he would have killed you. Damn it, Ania, what do you want me to do? Lock you up until this is over and have you hate me for keeping you safe? When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it.” He punctuated each sentence with a small shake.

  Dymka was still in a rage, a ferocious, vicious leopard needing a target. His mate had been in danger. She hadn’t done as she was told. A leopard—no, two—had come onto their property and into their home. He hadn’t been allowed to go after the second one. He remained close to the surface, driving his human counterpart’s fury.

  Ania had risked them all with her impulsive behavior. Dymka wanted her punished, and he raked and clawed at Mitya, determined to make her understand she had a responsibility to all of them, Mitya, Dymka and Jewel. She would have thrown them away to get to her dying father. It didn’t make sense, and she had to learn.

  Mitya breathed deeply, trying to force the adrenaline out of his system. The roaring in his ears and the blood running hotly in his veins didn’t do anyone any good. He fought for control when Dymka tried to take over. Fortunately, Ania realized the male leopard was fighting for supremacy and she didn’t struggle or try to defend her actions. She was trembling, but she remained very still.

  Mitya looked down at Ania. His fingers were so tight around her arms that the skin had turned white. He slowly, one by one, forced his fingers away from her body and stepped back. “It’s impossible to get in here. The alarm didn’t go off. How the fuck did they get in?”

  Sevastyan came striding in. He looked every bit as angry as Mitya. He didn’t even blink at finding his cousin naked. “The alarm wasn’t tampered with, Mitya. Someone turned it off. The only person we have missing is the kid.”

  Mitya gestured toward Antosha. “I’ll need a washcloth and first aid kit. I take it the guards are securing the grounds and they’ve looked for Amory?”

  “He’s nowhere, Mitya, and if he were dead, his body would be out there. They didn’t have time to carry it off and had no reason to.” Sevastyan’s voice was grim. He went striding from the room again, presumably to get the first aid kit and washcloth.

  Mitya stared down at Ania. She had one hand on her father’s chest, but she was looking at him. He expected anger. Tears. Something. Bruises were coming up on her arms from where he’d grabbed her. She might think he was angry, but Dymka had been the furious one. He’d felt fear. No, worse. Terror. He’d hit her with the heavier body of the cat, driving her away from the door and down to the floor. The bullets had hit right where she’d been standing.

  “I’m sorry, Mitya,” she said in a small voice. “I wasn’t thinking. Jewel could have been killed. You and Dymka could have been killed trying to save me. It isn’t even logical that I put everyone in danger when I know my father is already dying. He would be furious at me as well if he knew what I’d done. I really am sorry.”

  He stared down into her upturned face for several heartbeats. She didn’t mess around and try to shift blame; she simply admitted her fuckup and apologized. She took his breath away.

  “I have to admit, you scared the holy hell out of me, woman. Dymka too.”

  She gave him a faint smile. “I think had Dymka been in control, and not you, I might not have fared so well.”

  He touched the smudges on her arm. “I did this.”

  “I think your leopard helped,” she said, and turned away from him to examine her father. “They didn’t kill him, Mitya. Why? They could have so easily. Why wouldn’t they?”

  He looked at her father lying there, his color gray. His eyes sunken with dark circles around them. He looked thin and wasted. He looked ravaged, as if he’d been suffering for a very long time. Any shifter would know the struggle he waged every day with his leopard. They hadn’t killed him because they wanted him to suffer. There was a good chance he would lose his battle with his leopard and the cat would kill Ania.

  Mitya didn’t share his conclusions with Ania. He couldn’t. She looked fragile, as if one more blow would be the final straw. He circled her shoulders with his arm and drew her against him. At once she leaned against his strength.

  “They were looking for something.” He needed to distract her.

  Sevastyan returned, handing his cousin a pair of jeans. Mitya immediately pulled them on and then, barefoot, went to Antosha’s side. His breathing was shallow. He glanced up and met his cousin’s eyes. Sevastyan knew as well as he did that the blow to Antosha’s head and the trauma of the break-in were too much for the man to handle.

  Ania went around to the other side of the bed and took her father’s hand, stroking little caresses over the back of it with her fingers. Mitya cleaned the blood from Antosha’s face very gently. The antibiotic cream was smeared over the entire cut and then he bandaged it. Antosha stirred. Moaned.

  “I think he’s full of pain,” Ania said immediately. “I have pain medication the doctors said I could give him if he needed it.” But she knew. She totally knew. Her beloved father. She’d taken care of him for the last three years and she would have gladly given him another thirty or forty of care. He was the last of her family. He was the man who had taught her everything and brought laughter and dance into their home.

  “Come on, Daddy,” she whispered. “Don’t do this. You can get stronger. You just need to fight. I’m not ready.” She was pleading with her father. He always heard her. “I can’t lose any more family. We talked about this.”

  Her throat closed, felt raw and burned, or maybe that was her heart. She couldn’t lose him, her last living relative. “I won’t have anyone at all to love me, Dad. You said you wouldn’t leave me. You promised.” Her voice changed, came out a whisper. “You promised me.”

  Antosha’s eyelids fluttered and then suddenly flew open, as if he heard her, but his head was turned toward Mitya. Whatever Mitya saw, he ordered very low and calm, but it was an absolute command: “Ania, leave the room now.”

  Ania shook her head, holding on to her father’s hand, desperate to hold him to her. Her heart hurt, and her stomach knotted. Her lungs were raw from trying to catch her breath. She blinked. Looked up at Mitya, but her mind refused to comprehend what he was saying to her. She shook her head slightly. “Daddy”—her voice was soft, coaxing—“you have to fight back to the surface. Don’t let your leopard control you.”

  “Ania. Leave this room.” Mitya was implacable. “I won’t tell you again.”

  “I’m not ready. He isn’t done yet, Mitya.” There was panic in her voice. “He’s just confused after all the commotion. Anyone would be.”

  Antosha’s face contorted. Beneath his skin something alive, something vicious, began to push to break free. The hand Ania was holding suddenly turned in hers, and razor-sharp claws struck at her before Sevastyan could yank her away from the bed. A red streak appeared along her arm, but she didn’t cry out. The rake was deep and went from wrist to above the elbow. Blood dripped steadily onto the bed.

  “Dad,” she whispered. “Please don’t do this.”

  “Get her the fuck out of here now, Sevastyan,” Mitya snarled. His voice had gone low, an animalistic growl more than a human voice.

  Her pleading gaze clung to Mitya’s as Sevastyan circled her waist with one arm and lifted her off her feet. Mitya’s eyes had gone fully leopard and he was already ripping off his jeans.

  She exploded into fury, angry at everything. At everyone. Mostly at whatever would take her beloved father when he was all she had. She was leopard and her female was strong. She punched Sevastyan and tried
to kick him as he dragged her to the door, knowing if she left that room, there would be no chance. No saving her father. No saving herself. She would be forever damned. Forever alone. She fought Sevastyan all the harder, punching, kicking, trying to bite him.

  Her father began contorting, writhing on the bed, shoving off covers.

  “Get her out of here!” Mitya snapped. “I don’t care what you have to do.” The words were barely discernible.

  Antosha’s jaw elongated, teeth filling it. Fur burst through thin skin. Those eyes fixed on Mitya and then shifted to Sevastyan and Ania. Mitya roared a challenge, staring into the crazed leopard’s eyes, wanting the animal to feel the threat to him. Clearly, he wasn’t taking a chance that the cat would leap toward his cousin and Ania.

  The golden cat fought off the covers and leapt from the bed straight at Mitya. Ania screamed. “Dad! No!”

  Sevastyan yanked Ania like a rag doll, turning her away as Mitya’s powerful leopard met the smaller cat in the air, roaring back his own challenge. Sevastyan was enormously strong, and he wrapped Ania up with his arms, locking down her own arms, holding her in a way to render her feet useless when she tried to kick him. He managed to get her out of the room and kick the door closed behind them.

  “Stop it, Ania. You can’t save him, and he wouldn’t want to harm you.” He punctuated each word with a shake of her body as he half dragged, half carried her farther away from her father’s room.

  She fought harder as a crash signaled the two leopards hitting the floor and rolling around, claws scrambling for domination.

  Sevastyan didn’t make the mistake of letting her go. He carried her down the hall, stepping over the dead leopard lying in the way, continuing as if the carcass wasn’t even there. Behind them, the roar of a leopard nearly shook the house. Immediately a second leopard, its voice a powerful saw, answered the challenge.

  “Ania, stop fighting me. Stop fighting the inevitable. You knew your father was going to lose his fight and his leopard would break free. Be thankful Mitya is a strong enough man to face this for you. He gave his word to your father, and he’s a man of honor. No matter the cost, he’ll carry it out.”

  Once inside the great room, he set her on her feet. “I’m sorry about your father. I really am, but you’ve had plenty of time for good-byes. For last words. For all of it. When Mitya comes out of that room, he’s going to think you won’t even look at him because he did what your father asked.”

  She pushed off his chest and stumbled away from him to the fireplace. Resting one hand on the mantel, she put her head down and drew in great gulps of air, fighting for control. Deep inside, Jewel stretched. Became aware of her raging anguish, the sorrow so deep she couldn’t breathe. At once, because Ania was so distraught, she pushed for the surface to protect her. Rising, she pressed outward, needing to shift in order to protect Ania.

  Sevastyan could see fur moving beneath the surface of the skin, forcing it to rise in waves going through Ania’s body. He stepped back, his hands going to his shirt. Mitya would kill him if Ania’s leopard emerged, especially if she was in any way amorous, which she would be if she managed to rise to the surface and take control of Ania’s form.

  “Fight her off, Ania,” he snapped. “Don’t make this harder for Mitya.”

  She lifted her head to stare at him. He could see the eyes of her leopard staring back at him. She had peculiarly colored eyes, almost a deep, vibrant violet. He’d never seen a leopard with eyes that color. Blood dripped steadily from her arm, running down her wrist and hand to fall on the floor. Both could hear the drops, like the ominous ticks of a clock.

  The sound of the leopards fighting in the other room became louder. There was a roar, abruptly cut off, and then complete silence. It settled over the house like a shroud. Ania screamed out a violent protest, the sound so raw, bursting from her soul, tearing through her throat, shredding her.

  She turned and with one swipe took everything from the mantel, every picture of her family that she’d so lovingly placed in crystal frames. They fell to the floor and shattered, the way her entire family had been destroyed in just three short years. A lifetime of dreams, of hard work, of love and laughter, gone.

  “Ania,” Sevastyan said, his voice gentle. He reached a hand toward her.

  He couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t say anything to her or she would shatter like the glass. Like her family. She ran up the stairs, breathing so hard her lungs burned. She had no idea if Sevastyan followed her or not, the roaring in her ears was too loud.

  She slammed the door to her bedroom, turned the dead bolt and leaned her head down to keep from fainting. Heat banded across her eyes. A million memories flooded her of her father lifting her into the air, swinging her around. Her mother laughing and telling him to be careful while she shrieked for him to go higher and faster.

  She ran across the room and ripped the covers from her bed in an effort to destroy the combined scents of Mitya and her. Her knuckles burned, a terrible ache, and then heavy claws ripped through blanket and sheets. She wanted to destroy his things, every bit of evidence that Mitya existed, the way he’d destroyed the last of her family.

  She had nothing. Nothing. There was nothing left of the Dover family. And she’d been the one to bring about their final destruction. She ran into the bathroom, breathing hard, staring at herself in the mirror. “Traitor,” she hissed.

  She couldn’t stand that woman, the one who had brought the Amurovs into their lives. For what? Not love. Not family. Sex. He wanted her for his leopard. She’d handed herself to him on a silver platter. It was possible the Amurov crime family had wanted her family dead. He’d admitted that once given sons, they killed their women. Still, what had she done?

  “What did you do?” she shrieked at her image. “You stupid fucking bitch.” She hurled bottles of makeup, cleanser, moisturizer, every beauty product she had at the mirror, shattering it. Destroying it.

  This was her fault. She’d contributed by allowing anyone close to her. She’d sold her father and her family name for sex. “Whore.” She threw everything she had, including drawers, at that image. She hurt so badly she couldn’t think. Physically, mentally, emotionally, she was in agony. She had to destroy everything. It was the only way to stay on her feet, to keep fighting. Anguish was so strong, gripping her, crushing her until she was afraid there would be nothing left. She wanted nothing left. She couldn’t face what she’d done.

  She spun around when she heard the door rattle. Her lungs burned for air. She looked around frantically, knowing nothing could stop him. Nothing would stop him. Mitya Amurov was omnipotent. Invincible.

  “Kotyonok, open the door.”

  There was no containing the anguish. No way to hold herself together. She ran from the master bath, across the carpeted bedroom, for the bank of windows. She went for the one on the left side of the balcony, throwing her arms up to protect herself at the last minute. She crashed through the glass just as the door burst open.

  Ania didn’t feel the cuts along her arms and hands because the terrible agony inside her refused to let up. They were in pursuit of her now, the last of her family. The only person left who could exact revenge. She had to get away. Dimly she heard yelling. Orders. She couldn’t make out the words. She only knew she had to escape. Run. Run so fast she wouldn’t have to know what he was going to tell her.

  Her father was dead. Dead. Dead. She was alone in the world and there was no one to blame but herself. She screamed again, the sound bursting from inside her like a terrible storm raging. She climbed onto the railing and leapt, not even hesitating.

  Jewel was close to the surface, pushing to take over, trying desperately to help her, but the fury and distress in the leopard only added to the chaos and agony in Ania’s mind. She’d never used her leopard before, not like this, leaping from a second-story balcony. She landed on the roof of the porch, slid, got her feet under her a
nd ran to the edge. No one was below her and she jumped a second time, landing on the ground in a crouch.

  A leopard called behind her. This was no challenge but a command, and the adrenaline in her veins increased tenfold. She ran. She had always been a fast runner, but now she called up Jewel, and she ran like the wind. The cool air slapped her face, but it couldn’t remove the stain of guilt. Or the rage. He hadn’t let her try to stop her father from shifting.

  She screamed again, lifting her face to the dark, rolling clouds, allowing Jewel to take charge while she cried. While the tears blurred her vision. He’d always stopped when she called to him. Always. She might have found the right doctor to save him. She’d contacted so many. She hadn’t cared whether they were the doctors Antosha had approved. He was all she had left. He’d fought to live. He wanted to live. He’d told her so a million times.

  She ran as if the devil was behind her, heading across the rolling grades, away from the Amurov land. Her closest neighbor was miles away, but she knew her property. She’d grown up there and she knew every acre. She knew the trees and brush. She had a good chance of escaping.

  As she ran, she tried to clear her head. She always had a plan. She always thought clearly. She couldn’t seem to slow her brain. It was looping through her head, a white noise that wouldn’t stop. Just ahead of her, a man stepped out of the brush. He wore only a loose pair of jeans. She skidded to a halt, recognizing him instantly. Sevastyan.

  He held up his hand. “Take a breath, Ania. Everything is going to be all right.” His tone was soothing. He was deliberately trying to calm her.

  “Stay away from me!” she cautioned, yelling. Her throat hurt.

  She turned away from him, ran a few feet and had to stop as Vikenti stepped out of the tree line, still zipping his jeans. There was sweat on his body. She felt drops running down her skin to pool in the valley between her breasts. Her arms were wet. Slick. She glanced down at her arms. In the dark of the night, with only a pale bit of moon desperately trying to come out from behind the clouds, her arms looked shiny, almost black.