He frowned, his eyes on that little smudge. He took a step toward her, caught her chin in a firm grip and angled her face toward the sun. “What the hell happened? Did someone hit you?”
There was barely controlled fury in him, although his voice sounded the way it always did—calm. He knew someone had struck her. Recently. Within the last half hour. That was the reason she was late. While he’d been pacing up and down in his front room, furious at her, some asshole had hit her. Struck a woman. When he turned her face toward the sun, he caught sight of a large lump on the side of her head, up high in the hairline. Hidden, but it was there. He forced himself to let go of her.
She glanced over her shoulder as if it was possible she was being pursued. She hesitated, as if she might not answer, or she might try to lie, but then she simply told him the truth. “Unfortunately, yes, I’m so sorry. I know we’re getting off to such a bad start, and it’s so unprofessional. Our company is really the best. We’ve just had bad timing with our scheduled meetings. I really tried to get here but . . .” She was babbling. The words stumbling over one another.
“Ms. Carver,” Sevastyan interrupted, his voice a whip. He was used to giving commands and having them obeyed. He’d been trained from the time he was a young boy and as he had taken over the duties of head of security for his cousin, his natural dominant character had come out more and more. “Tell me what happened.”
She stood blinking up at him. She was already more than a foot shorter than he was and with him standing a step above her, it only added to her diminutive stature. Once he realized what that smudge was and had seen that swelling on the side of her head, Sevastyan hadn’t brought her fully into the house, where she might feel vulnerable alone with him. Still, he intended to take advantage to get the information he needed to hunt down whoever had struck her.
Flambé shrugged in an attempt to be casual, but the movement hurt and she winced visibly. “There’s a man who is very angry with me for a lot of different reasons. I refused to take his calls and he’s been watching me. I called the police and reported him numerous times, but because he hasn’t actually done anything, well, until now, they said there wasn’t anything they could do.”
“He’s stalking you.”
She made a face. “I hate using that word because it sounds like something everyone uses now, but yes. He turns up everywhere I go. He stands across the street from places I go to eat with my friends. I made him angry. I should have just kept quiet, but I got so sick of him always pushing at me. I confronted him and told him to keep the hell away from me.”
Sevastyan detested that she thought she had to be the one to give in to her stalker’s demands in order for her to have peace. That was what the women in their lair felt; in the end, all of them knew they would be murdered and yet they quietly accepted their fate. There was no rising up. No fighting back. Again, that place inside of him that roared with rage turned red with anger, threatening to erupt like an angry volcano, but on the outside, he appeared completely calm. He had to. The last thing this woman needed was to fear him.
“Why do you think you should have to keep quiet? He’s the one doing something wrong, not you. You had every right to tell him to stay away from you, although you shouldn’t have been alone when you confronted him.”
“I wasn’t when I confronted him. But he waited until I was coming out here and he forced me off the road.” Her entire body was shaking, whether she was aware of it or not.
Sevastyan was unprepared for Shturm’s furious reaction. The leopard leapt at him, raking and clawing for freedom as if he would go hunting right then and find Flambé’s stalker. Sevastyan remained absolutely expressionless but he couldn’t stop himself from stepping in to her and circling her the way his leopard would, inhaling as he did so. The moment he did, his leopard went crazy. He felt a little insane himself. Her stalker was leopard. He wasn’t Amurov. He wasn’t from Russia, or from one of the lairs Sevastyan was familiar with, but none of that mattered, he was leopard and he was stalking Flambé for a reason.
“He struck you. Hit you. Did he do anything else to you?” Sevastyan forced himself to take a step back when he wanted—no—needed—to yank her closer, spin her around and see for himself.
Flambé frowned and touched the swelling on the side of her head, her hand trembling. She looked confused. “The moment he tried to throw me against the car, I fought him. He punched me and I went down to the pavement and hit my head very hard.”
Sevastyan wanted to pull her close to him, even on the pretense of just steadying her, but the attack had shaken her. Shturm was acting crazy, one minute rolling over and the next struggling to get out. He had to be careful with her.
“He straddled me, grabbing me by my hair, and I kneed him hard, managed to get to my feet and ran for your property. I’d been here a few times with my father so I knew approximately where the trees were the thickest. He’d planted them when I was really young.”
Sevastyan swore to himself. “Is this man someone you know? Someone you were promised to by your father?”
She tilted her head and studied his face for a long moment before answering him. “No. He didn’t know my father. Clearly, you’re aware of what we are or you wouldn’t have been so set on hiring our company.”
“Before we go any further, if I ask you inside, will you be uncomfortable alone with me? There is no one else here. I didn’t know how much you knew about shifters and I wanted a chance to tell you what I needed from you when it came to landscaping without anyone around, but I don’t want you to be in the least uncomfortable. We can discuss this and then business on the outside patio if that is easier for you, but you need to sit down.”
Flambé hesitated, faint color stealing up her neck into her face, surprising him. Sevastyan studied her averted face as she once again peered over her shoulder before looking back at him. He had the feeling this time her hesitation wasn’t because she feared whoever it was that had struck her. She was avoiding looking at him.
“I’m not afraid of you. Your family has a certain reputation and there is honor and integrity involved.”
There was the smallest hint of untruth in her voice. She wasn’t afraid exactly, more like intimidated, and he was okay with that. Sevastyan had been intimidating people nearly his entire life.
“And criminal activity,” he prompted.
For the first time a faint smile lit her face, doing extraordinary things to her eyes. “That too.”
He stepped back and held open the door. “Come in then. I’ve had a lot of work done to the interior, but it’s by no means finished.” He stayed where he was, forcing her to move past him. He took up a lot of space and that meant her smaller body would have to slide next to his, touching his briefly. He wanted to see what reaction his leopard would have. He already knew what reaction he had to her.
Again, there was that small hesitation. He caught the briefest hint of sexual interest flaring in her eyes before she managed to veil all expression with her lashes. She didn’t want to be that close to him. She reacted to him just as he was reacting to her. She had courage though, he had to hand that to her. She slid past him, her small body whispering against his.
Shturm nearly rolled over, purring. Purring. The cat had never purred in his life. More, he felt her cat rising. The female moved fast, reaching for Shturm, calling to him, the scent of her filling the air so that Sevastyan had to fight his leopard to keep him under control. His own body went hot and hard with urgent need.
“I presume you did your research on me then?” Sevastyan said when he could breathe properly, as he pulled the door closed, matching her steps nearly exactly, his silent.
She glanced over her shoulder and went pale when she saw him so close. “Yes. You’re Amur leopard. Rare. From Russia. There are rumors about your kind. Very unfortunate rumors.” She shivered and rubbed her arms as she made her way into the living room.
/> Sevastyan really loved the large, spacious room with the high ceilings and great stone fireplace. He waved Flambé toward the coziest chair. Most of his furniture had been purchased for a big man. His cousins were all large like he was and when they came to visit, he wanted them comfortable.
“Flambé,” he said, when she stood by the chair. “Sit down. We have a lot to get through. You may as well be comfortable. If you’re cold, I can get you a blanket or start the fire.” He poured persuasion into his voice. He wasn’t asking. He wanted to know who this man was and why he thought he had any right to her. She looked fragile, as if she might fall down at any moment. Her face was pale and the swelling on the side of her head was alarming to him. Her eyes were overbright, almost as if she was a little dazed.
Flambé sank into the chair. “Mr. Amurov, are the rumors around the Amur shifters true?”
“The lairs where my cousins and I grew up? Yes. Absolutely they are true and worse than anything you’ve heard. The worst criminals want nothing to do with the lairs, for good reasons. My cousins and I broke away and came here, and we have death sentences hanging over our heads.” He shrugged his shoulders. “They’ve made their try a couple of times, but so far they haven’t succeeded. Call me Sevastyan. Not Mr. Amurov. I prefer Sevastyan.”
“Our shifters come from South Africa. We’re strawberry leopards. There are so few of us that researchers believe we are mutations with recessive genes producing an overproduction of red pigments or an underproduction of dark pigments. Poachers go after us, hunting us relentlessly the moment one of our kind is spotted in leopard form. Researchers don’t have a chance to actually find out we’re our own subspecies, not a mutation.”
Sevastyan sank onto the love seat across from her chair and leaned toward her. He had heard rumors, of course, of strawberry leopards. They all had, but no one had seen one. Most thought them a myth, or like the black leopard, a leopard born with an overproduction of red pigments like researchers believed.
He felt his heart accelerate and did his best to get it under control. For his sake. For Shturm’s. There were fewer than a dozen strawberry leopards to his knowledge. At most, perhaps under twenty. Chances were good she was unmated. Her female had risen, responding to Shturm’s presence. Sevastyan was attracted to her physically. In fact, the chemistry between them was extremely strong. He could make it work. He just had to proceed with care.
“Your father brought the shifters into the country and taught them his business and then when they could work on their own, he allowed them to move on and he brought in more.” It was a guess—an educated one.
She nodded. “Yes. He sponsored them. When the first had their businesses set up, they brought in others and sponsored them. Most, of course, weren’t strawberry leopards. It wasn’t like we had very many. Our species is nearly extinct. Poachers love a strawberry coat. We were hunted nearly to death. Unfortunately, recently, as many as twelve leopards were spotted in various places at one time in South Africa and it was on the world news. We’re trying to get the females with babies out of there to safety, but it isn’t easy. There are less than thirty of us left alive in the world that I am aware of. If we can’t save the ones exposed in South Africa, we’ll lose a third of that number.”
“I presume that your father sponsored both male and female leopards of all different species here in the United States.”
“Yes, of course he did. He tried to get as many as he could regardless of age or sex. They became citizens and owners of their own businesses. That way they can continue to help other shifters find safety. It wasn’t only strawberry leopards he brought in—most weren’t.”
“Are there any other strawberry females here?”
She hesitated just for a moment, but he caught it. “Yes.”
“Have the females gone into the Han Vol Dan?”
She frowned. “I don’t know exactly what that is.”
“The emerging of their leopard?”
“I believe my father said one or two have married. I don’t know if they have a leopard or not. I would hope so.” She rubbed her hand up and down her left thigh restlessly.
“When did you become aware of your leopard?”
Her gaze jumped to his face. She moistened her lips. “About two weeks ago. She told me her name was Flamme. I can feel how restless she is.” Again, she hesitated. “I’ve been restless as well. I wake up in the middle of the night and have to go running. I’ve been afraid ever since . . .” She trailed off.
“Who is he?” Sevastyan demanded.
“Sevastyan. It isn’t a good idea to get mixed up in my problems. He comes with some big resources, which is why I think the cops don’t want to do anything about him. They won’t even talk to him.”
“That is not what I asked you.”
Silence stretched between them. She lifted her chin stubbornly. That little gesture got him right in the gut. To a man like Sevastyan, that was the same as issuing a challenge. She wasn’t going to tell him for whatever reasons—or at least she didn’t think she was. He wasn’t going to allow her to get away with it.
“I actually came out here to discuss landscaping and what you wanted or needed on your property,” Flambé said, looking very determined. “You said the project would be quite extensive.” She rubbed her temple and winced. Swayed. She wasn’t in any condition to work.
Lulling her into a sense of security was always a good thing. He could mesmerize with just his voice. Control with it. Sound very gentle or equally as harsh. Any dominant worth his while could do so, and Sevastyan was particularly good with his voice. “That is very true. This property belonged to my sister-in-law’s family, the Dover family. I own it now and need the trees planted all the way from the woods in back to Mitya’s woods with the arboreal highway extended from my home to his. I want a clear path both on the ground and in the trees for me to get to him if he’s in trouble. A good portion of the acreage was planted in grapes. I had a third of that pulled up. More will eventually be taken out as well.”
She nodded and looked around her, looking a little helpless. Again, she lifted her hand to the lump on her head as if it hurt. “I usually have my notebook but I left my car out on the road some distance from here.”
He rose at once and retrieved a pen and paper from a rolltop desk in the wide hallway. “We’ll have to make do with this.” He gave it to her and paced across the gleaming hardwood floor to the wide expanse of window. “I like to see what’s coming at me at all times. The house is sitting lower than I’d like. The road is just a little above it so any plants added for looks could take away from security. I had the gardener pull out the ornamental bushes that were planted up close to the house. He wasn’t happy, but he did it.”
“I noticed that there weren’t any plants at all around the front of the house and it seemed very stark to me. I can come up with something pleasing that wouldn’t take away from your need for security.”
He kept a smile from showing on his face, his back to her as he continued to stare out the window. Your need for security. She had deliberately worded it that way to get to him. Needling him. She was restless because her leopard was. Both hands were rubbing her thighs now. She shifted in her seat more than once, her legs moving. She didn’t understand that her female was driving her, making her edgy, moody.
Her leopard was pushing her hard, throwing off her scent to call the male to her, insistent, urgent, demanding, flirtatious. The closer she pressed to the surface, the more Sevastyan and Shturm were affected, unable to resist the lure of the females. Every movement Flambé made was blatantly sexual, although she didn’t seem to be aware of it. She touched herself, her hands moving over her body, and her fragrance, filling the air so that he breathed it in with every lungful he took, was enough to put him over the edge.
Shturm came to attention, pressing forward, urging him to stake their claim. Flambé was in far more danger than
she realized, not in a way that would ever harm her. She was the safest woman in the world from him. Not only had Sevastyan taken a real interest in her when he didn’t in any woman, but so had his leopard.
“Are you paying attention to anything I’m saying to you?” Now there was a distinct bite to her voice.
“I would never be so rude as to not pay attention to you, Flambé.” Sevastyan turned slowly toward her, deliberately allowing his gaze to run over her.
Flambé had drawn her legs up. Her body was flushed, aroused, the heat of her female leopard fully on her. She’d removed her jacket and her breath was coming in ragged pants. Beneath the blouse she wore, obviously her “power suit” when she met with her customers, her full breasts rose and fell as she tried to control her breathing. Her nipples were hard, pushing against her bra, which inflamed them more. She was suffering, just the way her leopard was, nearing the excruciating demands of the Han Vol Dan of their people and not realizing what was happening to her.
Sevastyan wanted her to belong to him with every breath he drew. His leopard leapt and raked, clawing for supremacy, demanding they claim her, but that wasn’t Sevastyan’s way. His woman was going to be his fully because she wanted him. Exclusively. Him. With every one of his flaws—and he had them in abundance.
He measured his steps, pacing in slow deliberate strides around her chair, very close so her leopard would feel his male. Feel the dominant fighter. Her little female was looking for her mate—desperate to find him after the assault on them. If it was her first cycle, she would want a strong mate who could care for his shifter family, protect them when they might not be able to protect themselves.
The strawberry leopard rose fast, seeking Shturm. She was so close Sevastyan could almost see her moving beneath Flambé’s skin. That flawless skin glowed hot, as if her temperature had risen by several degrees. Without conscious thought Flambé reached up and undid the first two buttons of her blouse. Her red hair was damp, beginning to curl in wisps and tendrils around her face.
Leopard's Rage Page 2