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.