Sevastyan turned off the lights in the house one by one, as if they were preparing for bed. He left the television on in the living room for a short while and then turned that off. His team would be arriving any minute, coming in through the same tunnel he’d driven the car in. He’d chosen carefully. He had picked men he knew well, those he personally could count on. It wouldn’t have mattered to him before, but now that he had Flambé, that had changed. Before, it hadn’t mattered whether he lived or died. Now he wanted to live a very long time. He had something unexpected to live for.
Kirill Chernov and Matvei Bykov had been unexpected in his life as well. Both men had been childhood friends when there were no such things. His father, Rolan Amurov, saw to that. If Sevastyan was ever careless enough to show he liked someone, which he often did as a very young child, his father made certain to beat the child in front of him, most times nearly to death. Sometimes to death, laughing the entire time. Sevastyan learned to stay away from other children. Rolan made certain his son couldn’t form alliances or in any way have followers who might someday rise up to defeat him before he was ready to step down from his position as vor.
Kirill and Matvei had proven their loyalty to Sevastyan over and over, all the while making certain Rolan and his lieutenants never saw the boys talking. They developed their own code, although at first, Sevastyan was distrustful of the offer of friendship. It was Shturm who convinced him the boys and their leopards were sincere in their determination to become his friend. They had witnessed time and again his father and his lieutenants beating Sevastyan and his leopard for trying to protect others in the lair. As they grew up, the friendship only got stronger, and when Sevastyan and his cousins left Russia with prices on their heads, Kirill and Matvei went with them, risking their lives a
s well.
Sevastyan knew both men had the same problem with their leopards, that fierce, savage nature that the Amur leopard trained from birth to fight and kill gave them. That made life so much more difficult, adding to the burden of their already edgy, challenging lives as shifters in a world not meant for men with animalistic traits.
He turned off all the lights and then unlocked the back door separating the garage from his home. The two men would enter the garage directly from the tunnel. The men Franco Matherson had left behind to watch him wouldn’t be able to enter the garage. Even if they did manage to find an entry point, they would set off every hidden alarm and he would know.
He made his way down the wide hall to Flambé’s room, hoping she had been exhausted enough to actually fall asleep. He didn’t like the idea of her being afraid. He didn’t mind a little fear—but only for the right reasons. Tonight, he wouldn’t be there to comfort her. He could tell the room was too big for her. She had looked around her, liking the beauty of the master bedroom because she was an artist and could see the natural artistry of the space, but for her, it didn’t work. He wasn’t certain why, but those answers would come over time.
The door was open, she hadn’t closed it, which told him she wasn’t afraid of being with him, and that pleased him. He wasn’t certain why she was able to trust him so quickly, but he was grateful that she was. She would need to. He didn’t think Franco Matherson was going to give up so easily, not with what Drake and Jake had to say about him. Sevastyan couldn’t just go kill the bastard and be done with it, not without a certain risk. He didn’t want to bring that risk to Mitya’s door. Or Flambé’s for that matter. Franco had brothers. In Sevastyan’s world, that meant those brothers would come looking for him.
He stalked silently into the room, seeing immediately that Flambé wasn’t in the large bed. He used his leopard senses to find her, inhaling sharply. She had a sutble fragrance, one he found particularly pleasing. The combination was of hints of freesia, Moroccan rose and Egyptian jasmine spiced with coriander, cinnamon, cloves and buchu. The fragrance was so subtle it was barely there, but it was particular to Flambé, not a perfume, but natural to her skin. He smelled it in the silk of her hair and he knew when he tasted her, the flavor of the cinnamon and cloves would be there forever on his tongue. Just the thought brought an ache to his cock.
He found her just inside the open door of the closet. That made him want to smile. He didn’t. Had she been awake, he might have reprimanded her. In a fire, he would have needed to know where she was. For now, looking down at her face as she lay curled up like a sleepy little kitten, barely making a shadow beneath the blankets she had covering her, his heart turned over. She was getting to him in a big way.
The dim light that recessed into the eaves of the ceiling when the door was open shone down, providing just enough of a glow to spotlight her. Flambé had taken a shower and her hair was still damp. She had braided the thick mass, so the braid was a dark red, a splash of color against the black pillowcase. In her sleep, and without makeup, she looked younger than she did awake. Her eyebrows were red-gold just the way her lashes were.
She was a true redhead, with a smattering of freckles on her face and across her arms. She was obviously careful to cover her skin when she worked in the sun, although he thought that being leopard should provide some protection from the bombardment from the sun’s rays. Her hands were small, her wrists narrow. He would have to take that into consideration. He wanted to touch her skin, feel her to see if she felt as soft as she looked, but he had other things to do this night, like make certain she was safe—and send a very strong message to Franco Matherson.
It would do Matherson good to look him up. To see what kind of family he came from. A man like Franco would immediately want to run to Sevastyan’s father, try to get the bratya to do his dirty work for him, because in spite of the man’s arrogance, he would be afraid. Once he learned who he was really dealing with, what kind of shifter Sevastyan was and what kind of leopard he possessed, Matherson wouldn’t want to come at him fairly.
In the meantime, Sevastyan would be taking out his pawns one by one.
4
FLAMBÉ lay looking up at the ceiling, her heart pounding. She was in the same house with Sevastyan Amurov. What had her female leopard done? She had wanted this, but not permanently. She’d been so out of it. So scared. The attack. The blow to the head. Flamme rising, taking control.
It wasn’t like she could blame her leopard. She’d been fantasizing over Sevastyan Amurov for months. Who knew his leopard would be the biggest, baddest brute on the planet, ready to fight for a mate? Of course Flamme would try to find someone to protect them. It wasn’t her fault.
On top of everything else, Flambé had been sexually aroused for the last couple of weeks before Flamme’s sudden appearance. Her skin had been crawling with need. She should have picked someone up and taken the edge off, but she’d been trying to find a way to meet Sevastyan. She’d had her sights set on him.
She was insane to think she could really be with a man like him—hold his interest for more than five minutes. He was—extraordinary. She had watched him for so long. He hadn’t once seen her. Not a single time. Why would he? She’d been a little mouse hiding in the shadows, too timid to ask for what she wanted. What she needed. She always felt she had too much to lose. More, she had too much to protect.
The first time she’d ever laid eyes on Sevastyan she’d known he was the one she needed. He was intimidating in the most delicious way. Totally sexual when she didn’t find most men in the least bit hot. Just looking at him from a distance made her go damp. Weak. She knew she shouldn’t be all about sex with him, but she was desperate for real relief.
She needed sex nearly all the time but she was never satisfied. Never. Then she saw him and nearly had an orgasm from just looking. She wasn’t about to ignore the miracle of feeling true chemistry. Still, nothing was supposed to be permanent. She didn’t do permanent. She didn’t want it or need it or even trust it, especially with a man like Sevastyan.
She paced for a long time in the room he’d given her to stay in. He was being so nice to her. Sweet, really. He didn’t have the reputation for nice—or sweet. He didn’t look it either. His eyes were as cold as they could get. When they drifted over her, she found herself shivering in both anticipation and trepidation.
She’d always intended to seduce him. She’d wanted to have sex with him. That had been her intention from the first moment she saw him. But she realized the moment she saw him up close it would be impossible to seduce a man like Sevastyan. He seduced women. It wasn’t the other way around. Now, her leopard had taken charge in her weakened state and tied them to him.
She touched the lump on her head. She’d been hit a lot harder than she realized and Flamme had taken advantage. That wouldn’t happen again. She couldn’t let her leopard out until she figured out what to do. Her heart didn’t want to slow down no matter how hard she tried to get her breathing under control.
Her leopard had begun to rise a couple of weeks earlier than she’d admitted to Sevastyan, although she hadn’t recognized what was happening, only because she was always desperate for sex. She’d tried to be satisfied with a man she’d known for a short while. He’d asked her out a few times, but she just wasn’t interested. She’d faked it and that made her feel terrible, especially since he thought they were really compatible, but the sex left her burning for something more. She had a string of one-night stands with human males she picked up in bars, all totally unsatisfying—and horrible. She detested herself, especially when they wanted her number and she refused to give it to them.
She was lucky enough to get a call from a man named Cain Dufort, who owned a very successful business—a private, exclusive club—and wanted her to come in for a consultation. She would have to sign a nondisclosure agreement, as it was a sex club for clients with unusual tastes. She didn’t care. Sh
e wasn’t someone interested in outing others’ personal sexual preferences. She loved her work and if the owner needed work done, she was happy to design whatever it was he needed.
The job wasn’t outdoors as she first thought. He wanted a beautiful oasis in the middle of his club. His concept was that he would have drinks served in a garden of paradise. It would be glassed in so those relaxing could enjoy the shows taking place in the various rooms if the curtains were open, or they could just talk with their friends while they relaxed.
Flambé had never been inside a club like the one Cain owned. The moment she was escorted into his office, she knew he was leopard. She recognized the roped muscles and the focused eyes. He carried authority easily, something she reacted to. Even wearing her power clothes, she had to fight against his pull and her natural submission. She knew her reaction to him was caused by the type of leopard she was. She kept her chin up and met his eyes when they talked, not allowing her gaze to stray around to the unusual but beautiful artwork he had in his office. She had glimpsed the pieces as she had entered, and knew they were originals, artwork most likely from Japan, depicting the fascinating practice of Shibari—a rope tying of men and women.
He had taken her around, shown her rooms where there were all kinds of equipment, things that made her ache inside, made her sex flutter and her panties go damp. He showed her racks of instruments as well as benches and wooden crosses, things she had never seen before. There were ropes of various colors and textures. She worked at keeping her breathing even and her heart from pounding. For some reason, she really responded to the rope. This place was exciting and amazing, when she’d been so certain she would never be in the least bit interested in such things.