Her fingers tightened around his. Her gaze drifted over his face, and everywhere her eyes touched seemed to burn her name deeper into him. He turned away from her, looking out the window, needing to breathe air that didn’t have her scent in it, that didn’t take her into his lungs. She was stamped into his bones and wrapped around his heart. He needed to be Timur, the man with no emotions. The man capable of great cruelties should they be necessary—and he feared they would be.
The car came to a halt and beside him, Ashe removed her seat belt just as he removed his. Now, more than ever, he felt danger surround them. He’d always had that sense, that radar. He’d known the exact moment his father had made up his mind to kill his mother. Timur had used his leopard to make the run, trying to get home before it was too late. Gorya had run with him, neither exchanging so much as a sound, but both had known. Timur knew now.
“They’re out there, Kyanite. Rodion, get as close to the front door as possible. I don’t give a damn about the landscaping. Take it right up to the door. They’re going to hit us the moment the doors open. Rodion, get out on the passenger side and into the house. There will be a moment we’re vulnerable. One moment. I’m texting Vitaly to open the door, but to stay under cover.”
“Got it,” Rodion said as he maneuvered the car across the lawn and over the walkway. He positioned the car within feet of the door.
Timur pushed send on the text to Vitaly and then, the moment the front door opened, he shoved the car door open as well. When he bailed out from the car, he dragged Ashe across the seat and jerked her out of the vehicle and under his shoulder. They ran the few steps to the safety of the house.
Something heavy hit Timur and drove him to the ground. He felt the slash of claws and shifted, tearing at his clothes as he did so, shoving his woman as far as possible. Ashe rolled away from him toward the open door, taking his trench coat with her. His shirt ripped as his roped muscles changed to accommodate the cat’s size and ferocity. His had always been a large leopard. They rolled, two leopards in a tangle of cloth as his jeans tore but his shoes remained intact.
He ripped at the leopard’s belly with a killer’s claws. His leopard had grown up in an environment of blood and hatred. Finding his mate hadn’t changed those things, nor would it ever. The leopard challenging him broke away, sides heaving. Timur’s cat had managed to score his assailant with savage claws while Timur’s own wounds were less severe, the loose skin and thick Amur fur protecting him.
His last sight of Ashe had been of Vitaly’s hand wrapped around her arm, dragging her inside. If he survived, Timur made a mental note, he’d buy the bodyguard a good bottle of scotch. He deserved it. Timur shifted only two limbs, giving himself hands so he could untie his shoes and get them off. The entire time he was unlacing his shoes, his leopard watched his opponent through hate-filled eyes.
They were a team, leopard and man. They were in perfect sync when it came to fighting. Timur wanted to win as quickly and as viciously as possible. His leopard held that same desire. Both had serious combat skills and were experienced. Timur’s brain worked fast, cataloging every weakness the other cat had. Obviously, the animal didn’t like to get hurt. It was used to leaping down from a high place and ending a battle quickly with a bite to the neck. The assassin was no Amur leopard, with his golden fur and lazy battle technique.
The moment Timur had felt the cat’s weight on his back, driving him to the ground, he’d shifted his head and neck and turned just enough so the attacker hadn’t severed his spinal cord. His male got to his feet. He was a big leopard, mostly dark with golden rings around the rosettes pressed into his fur. Timur called him Temnyy, because of the darker color. The name meant dark one. He had the beautiful thick fur of the Amur leopard and was every bit as savage as any predator out there.
Timur kept him in fighting shape. They trained daily. His entire security force trained. Weapons. Hand-to-hand combat. They ran scenarios all the time. Their leopards fought and kept battle-ready. That kept the human shifter on his toes, fighting for control to take it back from his leopard when his leopard went into a blood frenzy.
If his male could have smiled, he would have. The lazy leopard facing him, used to his way of killing, had no real chance. He leapt into the air. His opponent jumped a fraction of a second after him. Temnyy, using his flexible spine, turned slightly to avoid claws and raked savagely down the exposed belly and genitals of the other cat. The leopard screamed as it went down on all four feet.