Sevastyan had almost stepped into the room to make his presence known, but he halted at the way she worded her own reprimand. Carry what through? He was responsible for his cousin’s security. No matter what, he had to know everything that was going on around Mitya and that included his woman, whether she had one foot out the door or not. He stayed very still, getting comfortable, leaning one hip casually against the wall while he listened, a little amused that she talked to herself while she paced.
“You can’t have him. It doesn’t matter how much you wanted him. All those times at the club watching him. All the nights you couldn’t sleep just thinking about him, wishing you could have one night with him. You’re not built that way. This is a huge mess and you made it. He didn’t. You let his leopard claim yours because you were so scared of Franco. Now Franco is targeting him. That’s not fair, Flambé, and you know it. So, make the call, stop putting it off. Find a flight, it doesn’t matter where it’s going, take the tunnel to Ania’s place and have someone meet you with a car and drive you to the airport. Just do it. Who though? Who would do it and be discreet? Who can I count on who Franco won’t have a chance of hurting for information?”
The pent-up aggression in Shturm that ran in Sevastyan’s veins as well sent a familiar rush of heat burning through him, settling deep in his groin. There was nothing familiar about the raw hunger that slammed into his cock, stretching him beyond what his monster had ever been, to the point of hurting, not just aching. His body reacted to everything she said. Everything she did. He’d known savage, brutal sexual hunger many times, but not like this.
He stepped into the room, every bit as silent as his leopard had been stalking his challenger. Flambé was a few feet from him, facing away so he could see her beautifully shaped ass, but she spun around, her eyes going wide with shock. She was still in the clothes she’d gone to bed in—a lacy thong and a thin clingy stretch lace top that barely covered her full breasts.
Sevastyan caught her hand and turned without saying a word, striding from the room, down the hall, to the staircase.
“Wait.” Flambé tried to halt, but he kept walking, taking her with him. He didn’t tighten his grip. He didn’t walk faster or slower. He didn’t look back. He just continued as if he hadn’t heard her. He felt the fine tremor that went through her body and when he inhaled, he scented her hot call. He knew when a woman wanted him and Flambé reacted to his sudden show of dominance.
Sevastyan continued walking up the stairs until he came to the door of his private suite. It was locked, and he bent to use a retinol scan to get in so he wouldn’t have to let go of his woman. She was still straining back from him, not exactly struggling, but acting reluctant. She hadn’t protested other than that first little “Wait.”
He took her inside, closed the door deliberately and turned to click all the locks in place—all three of them—forcing her to stand beside him while he did. She glanced up at him, her lashes fluttering, those long red-gold-tipped lashes that made her look so vulnerable. She had a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. He wanted to kiss every one of them, but he resisted.
He indicated the center of the room. “Stand there.” He dropped her wrist and waited to see if she would obey him.
Flambé stood looking up at him for a moment and then around his room. He watched her swallow several times. It was a purely masculine room. All his. Large furniture. Thick, carved wood with big posts and heavy spindles, good places for bondage. There were hooks on his ceiling and a pulley system. Mirrors on the wall and ceiling. On one side, hanging from the high ceiling, he had constructed a large tree out of knots and wood with a very small hammock made of knots hanging high from one of the limbs. There were shelves with ropes of different colors and textures in bundles.
Sevastyan let her look her fill. He didn’t tell her a second time, but he did stare at her with piercing eyes, daring her to disobey him. She pressed her lips together and for one moment she squirmed, her body restless, her skin flushing with heat before she moved to the exact center of the room right under the hook placed there.
“I will be asking you questions, Flambé, and I expect prompt, truthful answers. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“You saw me at the club?”
“Yes.”
“How did I not see you?” Deliberately he walked behind her, taking care to place his feet, walking so softly it would be impossible for her to know where he was, even with her superior leopard hearing.
“I was working there, planting the garden of paradise for Cain.”
He remained silent for a brief moment, drawing out the tension. “Why didn’t you tell me immediately that you had seen me at the club?”
She hesitated. Usually a prelude to a lie. Her shoulders straightened. Usually a determination to tell the truth. He needed her to give him the truth always. That was the only way they could build a partnership.
“I was afraid to. I hadn’t made up my mind what I was going to do. I thought if I could have you for one night like those other women, I would be satisfied, but then Franco scared me and I ran here and you were very different than I thought. Everything happened too fast. My leopard began acting up and your leopard claimed mine before I really had time to think things through.” She hung her head. “I’m not trying to make excuses. This is my fault. I should have been up front with you from the start.”
“Yes, you should have.” He poured harshness into his voice. Cold. Clipped. He wasn’t going to let her think that he excused her, although he thought she had every reason to be confused when Franco and his leopard had run her off the road and then chased her like she was their prey. She had a nasty bump on the head and her leopard had made the decision for her.
She shivered but she stayed straight. Unbending. That made him inexpicably proud of her. “You saw me at the club and didn’t tell me. You cancelled meetings with me on two occasions. And tonight, you were planning to leave after my leopard claimed your leopard. I even very carefully went over the rules of our world with you before I allowed Shturm to claim Flamme. Are those things all true, Flambé?”
She nodded. He remained silent. Waiting. He could wait for a lifetime. Eventually she figured out what he was waiting for.
“Yes. All of those things are the truth.”
“Your female is my male’s mate. He cannot do without her. You belong to me. Do you understand me, Flambé? You aren’t going to sneak off in the middle of the night and make me track you down. You will marry me and settle down right here on this piece of property and make it a home with me just like we discussed. We’re shifters, not humans, and we don’t have the luxury of changing our minds because we get nervous. Do you understand me?”
Flambé wanted more than anything else to turn her head and look at him. Her room had seemed so warm. Hot even. She couldn’t stand clothes, let alone blankets. His room was very cold, yet the longer she stood there with him looking at her, not knowing exactly where he was or how far away he was from her, the hotter the fire between her legs seemed to grow.
“Yes, I understand,” she said in low tone, knowing he was expecting an answer.
“Take off your shirt, fold it and hand it to me.”
His voice was low and totally mesmerizing. The sound played along every nerve ending, sparking little electrical currents that played over her skin and through her body. She obeyed him almost automatically, her nipples so sensitive that when the material slid over them, she nearly cried out. Very carefully, she folded the top, feeling a little helpless, not knowing where he was. She wanted this. She had waited for this. For him. Her body was on fire already, shaking with need, burning for him, and he hadn’t done one single thing.
Then his breath was on the nape of her neck, causing a shiver of awareness to run down her spine. His arm stretched out past her ribcage, his hand palm up so she could place the top in it before he withdrew once more. She
took a deep breath and let it out, bringing up her arms to wrap them around her body in a comforting hug.
“Keep your arms down.”
His tone was low. Velvet soft. Moving over her skin. She actually felt those notes caressing her body. Goose bumps rose. She dropped her arms to her sides immediately.
“Are your panties damp? Or are they soaked, Flambé? You watched me tie those women and you wanted to be one of them. Now that you’re here with me, is it better than you hoped?” He was suddenly right behind her again, his warm breath in her ear this time. “Which is it? Damp? Or soaked?”
She swallowed. There was no point in lying to him. He was leopard. He could smell her arousal. Worse, he was going to make her take her panties off and then he’d catch her in a humiliating lie. Better to just own up to it. She wasn’t embarrassed about who she was or what she was. Just that she might need more of him than he was willing to or capable of giving her. “Soaked.”
“Take them off and give them to me.”
Flambé hooked her thumbs in the little thong and slid it down her legs, thankful she kept herself in reasonably fit shape. Although she was very curvy, as were most shifters, she was extremely toned from her work outdoors and moving heavy plants around all day. It was much more difficult to hand him her panties. The little strip of lace was definitely more than just damp and her hand trembled. She found herself wrapping her arms around her waist in a hug for comfort again.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep your hands at your sides? Now you can lock your fingers behind your head.”
She hated that she had forgotten what he’d told her to do. She wasn’t that person. She remembered details. She was meticulous over details and she wanted to be very good at this. She had allowed her leopard to rise and be claimed by his, although truthfully, she was a little out of it at the time. Committing to a future meant she would have this. In fact, this might be the only real joy she would have—the only part of Sevastyan he would give to her.
She laced her fingers behind her head obediently. She didn’t apologize on purpose. She wasn’t going to be that person. She was new at this and a little afraid. If he didn’t treat her right, there was no way she was staying. But then, she didn’t want to be lulled into a false sense of security. Wasn’t that what all of them did? Pretend to be wonderful and then cheat with other women? Beat you? Hurt you? Treat you as if you were so much less than they were?
She didn’t want Sevastyan to treat her differently than he had those other women at the club. She knew what to expect from him and she could live with that. If it was just sex and they both went their own way, maybe she could give her leopard a decent life. The second Sevastyan hit her, or wanted anything she wasn’t willing to give, she would use her way out.
Flambé waited again as he walked over to the ropes on the other side of the room. He took off his shirt as he studied the ropes and then glanced at her over his shoulder. He selected two bundles of rope, both black, but different textures. She could see one looked smoother than the other. Ignoring her entirely, he walked up three long curving stairs that separated the huge space designated for his sitting-playroom from where his bed was. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he removed his shoes and then slid his jeans down, only to pull on a pair of soft drawstring pants.
Flambé’s arms were beginning to tire. She was strong and she was used to being uncomfortable, but the position wasn’t one she had ever been in. She had the feeling he was deliberately seeing how long she was capable of holding her arms up before they became wet noodles, which she feared might happen in another few minutes. She called Flamme to aid her. The leopard ignored her, or had completely retreated.
Her body began to tremble with the effort. She refused to give in. Tiny beads of sweat broke out, but she wouldn’t break. Sevastyan stood up and came to her with that slow, silent stalk he had that set her heart pounding. He ran his finger possessively down the side of her neck, right over her pulse.
“Put your arms down, plamya. That was impressive. For a beginner, you did much better than I expected. You have to tell me when you are uncomfortable or if something hurts you, unless the discomfort is deliberate; but that would be discussed ahead of time. I have to know if your circulation is cut off and you have to tell me if your legs or arms or hands start to tingle. The point isn’t to injure you. We both should find this practice pleasurable.”
Flambé allowed her arms to fall to her sides. The relief was overwhelming as he massaged her arms with firm strokes. “Go sit in the chair near the fireplace.” He indicated the high-backed chair that was covered in a dove-gray butter-soft leather.
She pressed her lips together, hesitating. He simply waited, the rope sliding through his fingers over and over, almost hypnotizing her, although he didn’t seem to be aware of the effect the sight had on her. She felt awkward being entirely naked, her body damp with arousal. She had nothing between her and the leather of the chair. Straightening her aching shoulders, she stepped past him, feeling the heat pouring off his body and wishing she could snuggle into it. He looked cold and aloof, but he felt hot as hell.
The leather of the chair was as cold as the room was. She sat properly, folding her hands in her lap.
“You don’t like to sit like that, baby,” he said softly. “We’re just talking right now. Get comfortable. Pull your legs up the way you like.”
How could he know she did that whenever she sat in a chair and no one was around? She drew her knees up, sliding her heels close to her bottom and wrapping her arms around her legs in a hug. She didn’t feel quite so vulnerable, or as on display. Part of her liked being on display for him. She had a good body; not like some of the women at the club he attended, but he never seemed to choose women for their body types. She wasn’t altogether certain he paid attention to what the women looked like.
“Pay attention, Flambé. You allow yourself to drift away and you need to learn to focus at all times. Shibari can be a harmful practice if you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re just as responsible as I am for what we do together. It may not seem like it to you as an observer, but your participation is every bit as important as mine to make what we do enjoyable for both parties. Not only are you cheating yourself if you don’t come to me with the right attitude, wholly focused and prepared to enjoy the pleasure and magic of our exchange, but it’s disrespectful to me and that’s something I will not tolerate. When I call you to me for this kind of play, you are not only to shed your clothes, but our bedroom should be the one place you can let every trouble go. I can take those burdens from you and I will. I insist on it.”
Flambé kept her eyes on the rope as it moved so smoothly through his hands. He was so confident. So completely assured. She had confidence in her work. When she interviewed. When she confronted danger moving a victim out of a dangerous zone into a holding area until she could get them out of the country and into safety. But here, with him, she felt a thrill of trepidation and for some perverse reason, she craved that feeling. She needed it to feel alive.
“You will eventually develop your own ritual, which will help to center yourself. You have to let go of all defenses. I want you to allow yourself the freedom of coming to me as emotionally naked as you are physically naked. Trust me to protect you when you’re in that vulnerable state.”
Her gaze jumped to his face. He hadn’t protected those other women. Their partners had done so, removing the ropes from their bodies and comforting them. Would he do that for her? She had no idea what he would or wouldn’t do. Did she even want him to? That would give him more of an advantage over her, yet she longed to be in the ropes. She knew that would be the ultimate erotic practice for her.
“You’re doing it again, Flambé. When we’re talking together, especially about a subject as important as this one, you stay focused. You can’t let your mind wander.”
She nodded her head. He was right. He spoke in that soft, almost predato
ry way he had, not threatening exactly, not at all. It was just that his eyes held this piercing, fierce gaze. She knew a leopard’s focused stare was disconcerting and Sevastyan had that same stare even in human form. Some shifters had much more animalistic qualities than others, and Sevastyan definitely had the predatory instincts of his fierce counterpart.
“Can you do splits?”
She frowned. No one had ever asked her that before. “I stretch every day and I get close.”
“I want you to work at it until you are able to. You also need stamina. We’ll go running and work out together. This isn’t a practice for the weak. If you enjoy it, Flambé, you have to be in shape and I mean that. It isn’t about size or what women perceive as looking good. I’ve tied all sorts of body sizes and found them beautiful. If you aren’t fit, you can be injured or worse.”
“I understand.” She did. That made sense to her.
“You need to stretch every day. You have to be limber. Do you get motion sickness? Are you afraid of heights?”
She shook her head. “Why would that matter?”
“I find suspension bondage sexy. With you, several very erotic images come to mind. I wouldn’t be able to use those scenarios if you had a problem with either, no matter how sensual I found the ideas.”
Another wave of heat rushed over her. She hugged herself tighter. It took a great deal of discipline to keep from looking at the tree he had constructed out of knots with the very small hammock hanging from a branch high up.
“Have there been a lot of women here in your bedroom?” She didn’t know why she asked, she didn’t really want to know the answer. She had watched Sevastyan. He didn’t get caught up with the women. It was about the art, the scene, and then the power of the sex. The woman belonged to someone else, who got off on watching her get off on doing something she enjoyed that her partner couldn’t provide.
Leopard's Rage Page 10