Leopard's Rage

by Christine Feehan

  “You are the only woman to come in here. You are the only woman to ever be welcome in this room.”

  Her heart stuttered. There was an underlying ferocious note to his tone, although he hadn’t raised his voice at all.

  “Do you share women?” That mattered. She couldn’t live with that. She just couldn’t.

  He studied her face for so long she found herself beginning to tremble. He hadn’t changed expression. He still wore that same impossible-to-read mask, but now something flickered in the depths of his eyes, something terrifying. Something that wasn’t cat, yet was just as bad as cat. That predatory trait ran deep in him.

  Sevastyan suddenly moved then, with the shocking speed of a leopard, covering the distance between them in seconds so that he was towering over her. He caught her chin and tipped her face up, forcing her to look into the flickering flames that were his eyes. “Flambé, if you hear nothing else tonight, you hear this. You are going to be my wife. I will not share you—not ever. No man will put his hands on you and live. That is as plain as I can make it. What we do together is between us and stays that way. Do you understand me? You need to acknowledge to me that you do, because make no mistake, plamya, I would kill a man over you just as fast as Shturm would kill a rival over Flamme.”

  There was no looking away from the fierce fire blazing in his eyes. He meant exactly what he said. There was relief in knowing he didn’t intend to suddenly start bringing her to Cain’s club and deciding to share her with other men. That would be a deal breaker.

  As if he could read her mind, the pad of his thumb swept gently over her lower lip and then he released her chin and stepped away. “The club was an outlet for me when I needed release. I’m a dominant, pure and simple. You recognized that in me the first time you saw me and you reacted to that.”

  She had. A part of her knew it was more than that. Cain was a dominant, but she hadn’t been drawn to him. There had been that one brief second and now she knew it was because her female had been on the verge of the rising. She’d stretched. Sent out a brief preview of what was to come, and then like all females in the beginnings of their coming emergence, settled and vanished as if she didn’t exist.

  Flambé nodded. “Yes. I did.”

  “We get married and we stay exclusive. When we have a problem, we talk it out. I know your landscaping business is important to you so it’s important to me. You need to keep me in the loop at all times. You’ll have to get used to having one of my men with you. Sometimes it might be necessary to curtail your activities and stay closer to home, but only in an emergency. I also know you’re passionate about saving other shifters. I have resources that can help you with that. My cousins and friends do as well.”

  She rubbed her chin on top of her knees and searched for the right words that she hoped didn’t sound judgmental when she really was grateful that he understood she wouldn’t give up her business or her work helping other shifters. “I try to keep everything legal. I want them to start their lives here in the States right, as citizens with an education and an opportunity to own their own businesses and employ others who need assistance. I want anyone we bring in to be productive citizens.”

  “I’m very aware you keep everything legal, Flambé. I do my research when anything gets anywhere near my cousin.”

  His tone sent another shiver traveling down her spine, reminding her she was stark naked and the room was chilly. Once again, she became wholly aware of him as a man. Shifters had the roped muscles of their animal counterparts and Sevastyan’s chest had muscles merging with his impressive abdominal muscles that just seemed to continue until they disappeared into his low-slung pants.

  “Shall we continue with our previous conversation on rope bondage? I think it’s important that you understand what I expect of you and what will keep you safe.”

  He paced away from her, and she took a deep breath, feeling like she’d been breathing shallowly and needed the air. “Yes.” She wanted to learn as much from him as she could, but watching him move was so mesmerizing she feared she might miss what he was saying.

  He indicated several very thick rounded poles that looked as if they were made of bamboo. If they were, she’d never seen bamboo that thick. “I want to work with those, stretching your leg or both legs on them and suspending you in the air, so the splits are important. You have to be comfortable in that stretch for long periods of time. It’s important to hydrate. I can’t express that enough. You have to take care of your body, Flambé. And you have to talk to me. I know what I’m doing but if one day you’re feeling fatigued or you’ve injured yourself while working, you have to let me know. I can’t put you in a position that might make that injury worse. In other words, you don’t stay silent just to please me. That won’t please me, plamya, it will piss me off.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  “I put a bottle of water on the nightstand for you. Use the bathroom and then drink water. You need to always be hydrated. That’s your job when I call you to me. Prepare yourself. Once you’re trained, I might want to suspend you from the ceiling. I might choose to put you in any number of poses using any type of rope or a combination of ropes. You will be expected to remain in the position until I choose to allow you out of it.”

  Her sex clenched wildly in response to his demands. She nodded to show him she was listening because she was afraid she might not be able to speak.

  “You saw me at the club. That was entirely different. There I needed to get in and get out. Here, with you, I intend to indulge myself. My cravings. My desires. Fulfill every one of my fantasies as well as work out the various positions I’ve always wanted to try when I had my own woman. Look at me, Flambé.”

  She forced herself to meet his eyes. The things he said made her entire body flush with heat and he could see it. He could also smell her arousal.

  “I will make certain you will know pleasure beyond anything you’ve ever experienced. I sound selfish, but if this wasn’t something you wanted or needed, we would not be doing it.”

  She knew if they weren’t compatible, she would be one of those women in the club he walked away from and never looked back at, leopard or not. She still wasn’t certain what he intended to do after they had sex—if he intended to have sex with her after tying her. She nodded her head to show she understood, but she couldn’t have said a word if she tried.

  “Tonight, I’m going to show you two different rope textures and what it feels like to be tied. I want to see how well you cope. Some people think they will like it and then reality hits when they realize they’re entirely at the mercy of the one tying them and they panic.”

  She immediately got to her feet, her heart beating fast. She had wanted this for so long but now that the moment was getting close, she suddenly was becoming fearful and she wasn’t certain why. He had put a subtle emphasis on the word mercy and that mask he wore proclaimed he didn’t have much mercy in him. He had also said he would put her in a position until he chose to let her out of it. She wanted that, but it was a scary thought. Everything she wanted from him was frightening.

  Flambé hurried to the master bath and closed the door behind her, leaning against it on unsteady legs. The room was enormous, with long double sinks and the coolest shower she’d ever seen in her life. It looked like something out of a movie, but she didn’t have time to examine it. She just hoped she could sneak in and use it sometime, just to see all the things it actually did behind all that glass.

  She made certain she was clean everywhere and then realized she was stalling. She wasn’t going to let herself be so afraid that she missed her opportunity to try something she really wanted to do. As she re-entered the bedroom, she picked up the water bottle and drank from it. The cold water felt good on the back of her parched throat.

  “I run the rope through my hands to make certain all the kinks are worked out and there are no splinters or anything that migh
t be uncomfortable against your skin. Unless I want you uncomfortable, and then I use my artwork to make you that way, or the texture of the rope and positioning of the knots. I am extremely careful. I always will tell you ahead of time.”

  She had been fascinated by the way he ran the rope through his hands and he’d noticed. He pointed to the spot in the middle of the room again and she obediently went without hesitation. There was something comforting in knowing what was expected of her this time. She stood directly beneath the hook where she knew at some point, he might suspend her in the air like some flying object with his rope and knots. Just the idea of it was almost enough to send her soaring, her blood rushing, heated and wanton.

  Flambé thought it was truly crazy how much she craved this. He circled her in complete silence, adding to her anticipation, to the dreadful need building in terrible waves inside her.

  “I’m going to tie you with an easy halter first, Flambé. I want you to get used to the feel of the rope on your skin. There are different types of ropes and I use them for different purposes. I’m going to use cotton on you first because it’s soft and gentle on your skin. It has a high burn speed which means it has to run along your skin much faster before your skin blisters.”

  He had once again stepped away from her and his face was back to that expressionless mask he normally wore. The rope slid through his hands, almost a caress, without him even looking at it, until he found the natural center and folded it in half. She found herself mesmerized by the slide of that rope through his fingers. By him. By the real Sevastyan, this man who controlled himself, his feral leopard, women and that rope so easily.

  Flames seemed to dance up her thighs, small little tongues of orange and red, teasing at her nerve endings, flicking at her skin until she wanted to cry out with need. The burn between her legs grew hotter. Her nipples felt on fire, as if he’d pressed two burning matchsticks to them. He hadn’t touched her. She had no idea how or why she’d gotten so inflamed, so hungry for him so fast, but she couldn’t control her breathing.

  He moved behind her and a moan broke from her when he touched her neck, his finger sliding over her pulse. “Shh, baby, you’re going to be fine. Give yourself to me.”

  He ran his hand over her shoulders, a slow, very tender touch. His palm curled around the nape of her neck and slipped around to her throat, barely there, just resting, feeling her heart beating into his palm. It was the most intimate experience she’d ever had and yet he hadn’t touched any of the supposed parts of her body that were considered the “sex zones.”

  She leaned into his hands. Into his body. She felt his strength. He was all male and he made her feel exactly how she wanted to feel, totally feminine and powerful in her femininity. There was beauty in her own strength, in the way she chose to submit to him. She wanted this experience with him. This man was so utterly arrogant and had every reason to be when it came to his skills. But . . .

  He suddenly caught both hands and yanked them behind her back, folding one arm on top of the other decisively. The move was so unexpected she almost moved from the spot he’d told her to stay in, but at the last second she remembered to remain still.

  She felt the rope slide over her skin almost lovingly, sending shivers through her entire body. His hands moved on either shoulder, running the lines simultaneously as he began to swiftly build a harness. At the same time, he leaned into her again, his warm breath in her ear. His teeth found her earlobe and bit down.

  She yelped.

  “All of you, Flambé. You’re holding back. Give me all of you. You’ve already got several indiscretions you have to answer for. Don’t keep adding to them.” He whispered the warning to her, all while his hands worked with absolute sureness.

  She moistened her lips, wishing she didn’t understand what he was talking about, but in the back of her mind she hadn’t forgotten that he had enumerated her supposed sins as he’d taken her into his room. The two times she’d cancelled on him. The fact that she hadn’t told him she had seen him at the club. That seemed to be a very big one to him. He really hadn’t been happy about that and she couldn’t blame him.

  The rope began to weave back and forth over her arms and breasts and under them, around her arms and then down the middle in intricate knots, both front and back. He worked fast, pulling the ropes tight and securing her quickly. She felt almost euphoric as he completed the halter. The knots were beautiful, straight down the valley separating her full breasts, the lines beneath them lifting them up while the ones over the tops delineated the curves artfully.

  She ached for him. Burned. Her nipples jutted out at him invitingly. She’d never been so aware of her breasts as feminine and sexy. If this was art, it was erotic art. Sevastyan stepped back to survey his handiwork. His expression didn’t change as he circled slowly around her. It was a leopard’s prowl, one slow, almost freeze-frame stalk after another. She held very still.

  When he returned to the front of her again, he used his foot to nudge her feet farther apart before retrieving the skein of rope he’d left on the bed. This was the rougher texture he’d mentioned earlier. He began running the rope through his hands absently while he returned to her in the same silence, with that same arrogant mask, the one that made her even hotter. This was how she had first seen him, so in control, so completely dominant.

  He took his time before he moved close to her. He didn’t look at her face, but rather at her breasts. “You shouldn’t have missed your appointments with me, Flambé. That will not happen again. From now on, no one is more important in your life. No one. Nothing. You make certain you put us first always.”

  He spoke in that same low tone. No inflection. No harshness. Just a soft decree. He reached out and gently ran his finger over her right breast, down her aching nipple, and then flicked it hard with his thumb and finger. Heat burst through her and she jumped. He bent his head and sucked her breast into his mouth. She cried out, her legs nearly giving out as pleasure washed over her. Just as abruptly he lifted his head.

  “The matter of the club is a much graver offense. You didn’t know me before cancelling the appointments with me and I believe you thought you had good reason, so that is forgivable. You saw me at the club and you should have confessed to me immediately, especially after Shturm claimed Flamme. You knew you were wrong for that. Don’t speak. I don’t want to hear excuses.”

  He stepped away from her and studied her body, the rope still moving through his hands. “This will be a very simple piece as well. Not telling me about the club is another matter altogether.”

  He moved behind her and made a simple wrap around her hips twice. At once she could feel the difference in the texture of the rope. The halter was smooth and, although tight, felt nice against her skin. She needed tight. She liked firm pressure. This rope was prickly. Again, Sevastyan worked fast, the knots forming a thong, sliding between her cheeks, positioning perfectly, pulling tight and coming right over the hood of her clit to attach to the two ropes that circled her hips. He pulled the lines even tauter and she gasped as with every movement the knots rubbed and inflamed her body.

  He pulled on the ropes as if testing them and each time he did, flames shot through her. She cried out, need burning through her, hips jerking uncontrollably.

  “Stay still, I need to make certain these knots are correct.” His tone was low, the same, as if she was an inanimate object and his art was all that mattered.

  He knew the knots were perfect. He was being a devil. She didn’t know if she wanted him to be the devil. That only added to the fiery need building and coiling tighter and tighter until she thought she might go insane.

  Sevastyan slid his fingers under the knotted rope and gently ran his knuckles up her belly to her breasts. The knots tugged and rolled over her clit and rubbed and burned deliciously between her cheeks, inflaming every sensitive bundle of nerves she had. His index finger began to brush back and forth under h
er breast, tracing the curve very gently.

  “When you were spying on me at the club, which pose made you want me the most, Flambé? Which was the one that made you decide you had to be with me?”

  He bent forward and took her left breast into the heat of his mouth, sucking hard, his tongue fluttering against her nipple and then pressing it tight against the roof of his mouth while his fingers played the rope like a harp, setting the knots dancing over her sex again, setting her on fire. The combination shook her entire being.

  She couldn’t find her voice. She was helpless, unable to touch him, when she wanted to cradle his head to her breast and keep him there. She was unable to reach that place that would let her fly, although she needed to get there so badly. She wanted that knot to rub and burn over her clit and at the same time she desperately wanted it to stop. The knots running between her cheeks were producing the most erotic sensations, sending waves of heat crashing through her. He added his teeth to the mix, an unexpected tug and sting on her nipple, making her cry out.

  “Answer me, Flambé. Which pose?”

  Her mind was in utter chaos. She loved him best this way. So in charge. So distant. So arrogant. So completely Sevastyan Amurov. She tried to force air into her lungs, to find a way to breathe through the raging firestorm so she could get to a place where she could think.

  “Sevastyan.”

  He bit down again and she cried out as the sting sent waves of dizzying fire blasting through her, threatening to send her over the edge, but stopping just short. She tried to find relief against that knot, but it wasn’t working. She couldn’t get there no matter how hard she tried.

  “Flambé. You look so beautiful just like this. Open your eyes and look in the mirrors. Look at yourself. And then tell me.”

  She couldn’t. She knew what she would see. The need. The wanton hunger. The desperation only Sevastyan could produce in her. But he was relentless. Merciless. That was why she was so obsessed with and addicted to him. He could make her feel this way when no one else could.