Leopard's Blood

by Christine Feehan

  She yelped and turned slightly so he could see her glare. "Stop that. And that can't be a rule."

  His tongue touched the spot. "It's the only rule." His kissed the sting and then began a slow journey up her throat. Tiny kisses that drove her crazy.

  Laughter bubbled up, laughter and desire all wrapped in one. "I do like your kisses," she conceded. "Some days you get it right."

  He caught her jaw and turned her face to him. His blue-green eyes smoldered with sex. Every line in his face was sensual, the devil tempting her to sin. The smile faded as his lips came down on hers. She expected wild. Rough. It was stamped there in every line of his face. She got sweet. Tender. One hand spanned her throat, holding her in place while he explored her mouth, coaxing her tongue to follow his. He deepened the kiss, but was so gentle it brought tears to her eyes. He was saying more than she wanted to hear, but she loved what she was hearing.

  She kissed him back, giving herself to him in the way she did. She never held back when she was in his arms. When he lifted his mouth from hers and rested his forehead on hers, she realized he might have been teasing her, even playing around, but there was something else in him, something upsetting him.

  "Honey, talk to me," she said softly. She rarely invited him to share his world with her, and he lifted his head to look into her eyes. She ran her fingers through his thick, shaggy hair. He needed a good haircut, but on him, the longish hair looked good. "I can tell something is bothering you. Is it me? Something to do with me?"

  Joshua shrugged and rolled off her. "I've got an important meeting tomorrow and I've got to have everything worked out. I've been getting threats and need to increase security around here, and I'll have to do that before my meeting."

  "Kai and Gray can help you," she said, meaning it. "If you want them to follow me around all day after you don't need them anymore, I'll put up with it for a little while just to make you feel better, but you can use them. It isn't like you have a huge resource pool around here."

  He rolled over and stared at the ceiling fan, his fingers linked behind his head, his legs over the side. "I put them on you because you mean more to me than anything else, and they're that good. I'm not pulling them off. I don't like you being upset over it, though."

  She rolled to her side and propped up her head with one hand. The other slid over his chest, her fingers idly writing her name. "I won't be upset, although I prefer them guarding you, if you're getting threats. The threat to me is over. I'm dead, remember? I know they think that. I'm far away and nothing I do will ever impact them."

  He kept looking at the ceiling fan. "Them? You often use that instead of 'him.' Do you mean his family?"

  "Yes." She wasn't going to lie to him. "His father was the one who told him he had to kill me and he agreed. Very casually, I might add. No argument. So yes, I say 'they' because I think his father would want me dead even now."

  "Why, Sonia? I turn that over and over in my mind, trying to put the threat to you into a logical conclusion, but there is none. Were they in some shady business and you overheard something you shouldn't?"

  It helped that he kept his eyes on the fan and not her. "I didn't, though. I think it had something to do with my father." She touched the faint scar on her forearm. It was long and thin, white against the olive of her skin. Still, it was so faint, no one had ever noticed it, not even Sasha, whom she'd lived with for nearly two years.

  "Your father," he prompted when she fell silent.

  She pulled his white, button-down shirt from his jeans. He did that a lot--paired a dress shirt or a shirt and jacket with jeans. She thought of it as his signature look, one she appreciated. He looked good in jackets and collared shirts. His skin beneath the shirt was very warm. She drew circles over his hard muscles. "He was murdered. I was there. He was a good carpenter, and I loved wood. Really loved it. The smell, the different textures and looks. He taught me so much, but I suspected he was doing something else, something not legal. Men came and did things to him. Horrible things. They made me watch. I get nightmares sometimes. I fought them, and one had a knife. It sliced my arm open. The laceration was fairly shallow but it hurt like hell and needed stitches to close."

  "So maybe not so shallow."

  She shrugged. "Maybe. In any case, I now have this scar. By the way, I saw you hung the picture in the great room. I saw it when I was walking to the stairs." Her hand dropped to his jeans, fingers fiddling with the snap there. She opened it. "You're right, it looks good. I didn't think it would go so well over the fireplace, but the colors are perfect. I like knowing something of mine is in your house."

  "I do too." His hand slipped into her hair. "I like you in this house."

  "I am here." Very, very slowly she slid down the zipper. He was already hard and ready for her. "I kind of like this afternoon break thing. Now, that might be a decent rule to add." She slipped off the bed to her knees, nudging his legs apart so she could fit. She took off his shoes and socks first. Grasping the waistband, she pulled his jeans down his legs until she could get them off.

  She loved looking at him sprawled just like that, draped over the bed, hands back behind his head, his eyes on her face.

  "Do me a favor and lose the clothes."

  "My clothes? I don't think it's necessary when I plan to have your cock in my mouth, devour you and then go to work."

  "Your clothes. I want my cock in your mouth and then I want you riding me. Hard. Face-to-face. And I want to look at your body while you do that."

  She cupped his balls, her thumbs sliding over the velvet sacs while she contemplated what he wanted. "I have to admit, I like the idea of riding you hard, but I'm giving up a lot here, so I should have some concessions."

  She pulled off her shirt and flung it to one side. Her bra followed. She removed both boots and then shimmied out of her jeans. She liked the way his eyes were on her every second. He didn't blink, giving her the full focus a leopard would its prey. That familiar shiver slid down her spine.

  "What concessions?"

  "Tonight, I get to take you all the way before we let the cats run. I have something special I want to try."

  "I have to let you blow me again? Twice in one day. That's tough, baby. A really tough sell. I don't know."

  "Let me try to persuade you." She knelt between his legs and licked up his shaft. His cock jumped and he groaned.

  "That's cheating. Cheaters get in trouble. Their asses get marked."

  "I am cheating, but I want my way." Before he could reply, she took him deep, sucked hard, her tongue lashing and curling around him. She'd had plenty of practice, and she loved watching his face, watching the pleasure spread, the lines of carnal sin deepen, the dark passion turn his eyes more blue than green. It was such a turn-on.

  "All right, baby. But don't expect to sit comfortably for a day or two."

  She purred softly around his shaft, watching the vibrations take him up another notch. She loved that. Loved it almost as much as she loved what he did to her. Everything he did to her. "I'll look forward to that, honey, but in the meantime, you're going to have to stay strong," she murmured around his shaft, and then went to work.

  She loved making it difficult for him to leave her mouth. If he came in her mouth, it was paradise, but then he missed her sheath grasping him with scorching-hot, tight muscles. Milking him. Pulling his seed right out of him.

  He groaned, and his hips began that helpless thrusting she knew meant she was giving him exactly what he needed. She increased her suction, took him deeper, held him there, muscles squeezing, took a deep breath and started all over.

  Then he caught her braid in his fist, forcing her head up. "Sit on me. Do it now, you little cheater. Right now."

  He was leaking all that salty goodness she had tried so hard to get. Laughing, she licked at him, took him deep while he held his cock at the base and then, with a show of reluctance, let him go. She straddled his thighs, and lowered herself onto him, all the while watching his face. She loved that. S
he loved the way his gaze dropped to her breasts, his hands came up and then his mouth was on hers, kissing her fiercely. She felt as if she was home.

  8

  "DAMN it, Drake, I've given you everything I have on her. I need to find out who the hell tried to kill her and why. We have an entire team of investigators. Are you telling me they can't find one single thing on her? She's been here a year. Surely somewhere in the United States, a car blowing up was reported a year ago. That can't be that fuckin' hard to find."

  "I've never heard you rattled, Joshua. You really have found your mate."

  As always, Drake's voice was calm. It didn't matter that Joshua had been growling at him for the last three minutes solid, probably blowing out his eardrum. Joshua could picture the man, pacing with the phone to his ear, just waiting for his friend to get over his tantrum. Joshua made an effort to calm down.

  "Sorry, man. I just have this feeling. Gut deep. I don't like that she's hanging out there when I don't even know what or who is threatening her."

  "It's possible she's safe. It's been a year. They aren't looking for her, or our team would have caught wind of it when they were putting careful feelers out."

  He took a deep breath and let it out. "The thing is, Drake, I've never been wrong. I know trouble's coming. I can't get a handle on where it's coming from, but it's coming. I can't lose her. She's already skittish. Sometimes she feels like water in my palms just slipping away." He hadn't meant to whine, but, hell, every night they were magic together, and every day she smiled that sweet smile and looked at him as if she expected him to turn into a monster. He knew sadists. His grandfather had been one. He wasn't that. He had faults, but he wasn't that.

  "This meeting with the Russians is important, Joshua. You have to be certain you're all in. One slipup and you're dead. It's too late for me to get there. I'm in San Antonio at the moment."

  "I can handle the meeting. You and the others put me in this position, but I took it willingly. I didn't think I'd find my mate and it seemed like a good thing at the time."

  "Rafe had a big territory. You've gotten most of it under control in a short amount of time. You worked hard to get us that pipeline. The Russians are the last step."

  "You certain reaching out to them was a good idea, considering Alonzo's past? We're in bed with several Russians some are looking to kill."

  "We have to know if they're hunting Alonzo. I have to know. He's a friend, Joshua, and he'd lay down his life for any of us. We have to know how much trouble he's in."

  "You think Nikita will casually tell us they're looking for him, don't you?"

  "I'm betting on it. This is the first time we've really reached out to the Russians and they know it's significant. They're always looking to take over more territory. We're solid here and they can't move in, so they want peace with us. They want allies. They want a look inside. They'll drop it that they're looking for Alonzo, his brother and cousins. They'll use us to try to find these men and at the same time, give us the opportunity to cement relationships by helping them out. That's what we want. We need an 'in' with them. We know Nikita Bogomolov is one of the worst."

  "I'll handle it," Joshua assured. He liked Alonzo. Not Alonzo, Fyodor. Fyodor Amurov. He wasn't about to let anything happen to the man, especially since he was mated to Joshua's cousin.

  "We'll push the investigation into your woman, Joshua, but try to get a little more on her. A starting point would be good. Telling me she has a Spanish accent doesn't help me much."

  "I'll try. She keeps things to herself. What about Molly Sheffield? Did you get anything on her?"

  "She's an open book. The Sheffields are originally from that area. They left fifteen years ago, leaving the grandmother behind. As far as we can tell, Molly was the only one to consistently visit her. She purchased the swampland and house when she inherited money, but didn't live there until recently. She got hooked up with a man by the name of Blake Garritson. Big-shot district attorney. Comes from big money. Has an ego the size of Texas. I can tell you with certainty, the man is dirty as hell, and he's looking for Molly."

  "Is he close to finding her?"

  "It took me all of three minutes," Drake said. "I'd have to say yes. He's got to be on her trail, or already has someone there watching her."

  Joshua swore under his breath. He didn't need that added complication. Sonia had her own troubles, she didn't need to take on Molly's. But she would. She was going to be right in the middle of it. It infuriated him--call that terror--but it was one of the reasons he was falling so hard.

  "Molly is seeing the local law. I sent you his name as well." Joshua glanced at the clock. The Russians would be showing up any minute.

  "Bastien Foret. I checked with my brother-in-law, Remy. He's a detective in New Orleans. His brother is a sheriff here. They both say Bastien is as straight as an arrow. He's a better-than-average detective. Intelligent. He's not the type to try to blackmail or bribe."

  "Good to know. Sonia's been feeling me out, trying to set up a barbecue with Molly and Bastien. I've managed to put it off, but sooner or later, I'll have to say yes."

  It was Drake's turn to swear. He did it so rarely that it shocked Joshua. "I can handle this," he assured again.

  "I put you there," Drake said.

  "I could have said no," Joshua pointed out. "I've got Evan and the others. They're good men. It's going to be fine." He wished he believed that, but his gut was saying something else.

  "Boss." Evan stuck his head in the door.

  Joshua flipped him off for calling him "boss." They'd been friends for years. They'd watched each other's backs when the bullets were flying.

  Evan flashed a grin. "They're coming up the drive."

  "Gotta go," Joshua told Drake and hung up.

  Under any other circumstances, he would have been elated to run a meeting with the Russians. He welcomed the cat-and-mouse games. He was good at them. He found most men underestimated him because he looked young, and for being in their business, he was young.

  "You certain no work crews will show?" he asked Evan. He meant Sonia. The last thing he wanted was for Sonia to show up when every one of his crew was walking around armed, looking tough and deliberately intimidating. He didn't want the Russians to know about her. She would be a liability, making him vulnerable.

  "I'm certain. Sonia's in town. Kai's on her. Gray's here. Kai just reported in, and Molly and Sonia are eating lunch together in the cafe."

  That was a relief. He walked down the stairs into the great room, waiting for the Russians to get to the door. Evan opened it and escorted the small group of four men into the room. Instantly Joshua's leopard went wild, confirming his belief that all four men were leopard. He'd have to be careful, make certain every statement was truthful.

  "Nikita Bogomolov," the oldest of the four men said, his hand outstretched.

  He knew. Joshua could read it in his eyes. He knew Joshua and his men were shifters as well. That instantly evened the playing field, taking away the advantage Nikita thought he'd had. His smile didn't falter as he shook Joshua's hand and acknowledged his introduction.

  The two men sized each other up. Nikita Bogomolov was fifty-seven years old. His face was lined, although he looked younger than his age. He wore a suit worth several thousand dollars, custom-made, and it fit like a glove. His shoes cost almost as much as his suit. His handshake was firm and his faded blue eyes sharp.

  The three men with Nikita were clearly bodyguards. They didn't make any bones about it, fanning out around their boss in a semicircle. They wore the same expression, eyes moving restlessly, their leopards close to keep them on high alert.

  Joshua waved the four men toward the comfortable leather chairs. "Hot coffee or something cool?"

  "Coffee would be welcome," Nikita said. He looked around the room. "Beautiful place."

  "I'm in the middle of renovating it." He sent the Russian a brief smile. All teeth. Showing his leopard. "The previous owner must have had a gun battle here.
Lots of bullet holes."

  Nikita had stopped listening. He jumped up, his face a mask of fury for a moment, and then it settled into more amicable lines as he slowed his pace, wandering across the room to the fireplace. "This painting is quite unique. Where did you get it?" His voice was falsely casual, when clearly, he wasn't feeling in the least casual.

  Joshua was grateful that he'd learned from an early age never to show emotion. Fear ripped through him, leaving him feeling raw and exposed. He had the desire to take out his gun and shoot Nikita right in the head. His painting, the one he'd talked Sonia out of, hung in its place of honor, the colors of the swamp vibrant in his home.

  "It was given to me by a friend." That was true. He had to stick strictly to the truth. Later, the crime lord would go over every word and nuance. He had to hear the truth or he would come back and torture everyone until he got what he wanted. Joshua had to handle this just right.

  He walked over to stand beside Nikita, staring up at the painting. "I saw it and wanted it. It reminded me of good times years ago." He smiled at Nikita. "And it goes perfectly in this room."

  "I'd like to buy it from you," Nikita said. "Name your price."

  Joshua turned away. "Nikita, we're here to discuss business, not paintings. That painting is special to me for a lot of reasons, and I don't want to part with it." That was all true. Every word.

  "My son, Sasha, was widowed a year ago. She was a beautiful, vibrant woman. She painted. This style reminds me of her. I would like to buy the painting for him."

  "I can't sell it, Nikita, as much as I would like to oblige you." Joshua gestured toward the chairs and the coffee Evan brought in. "I know you don't have much time and I'd like to make this count."

  Nikita's features portrayed a flash of anger, and then he was smiling, turning his back on the painting. Joshua's leopard clawed at him in warning. That amicable mask hid a deadly anger. The Russian didn't like to be thwarted in the smallest thing. He was used to getting his way, or taking it. Joshua, standing in his way, was an unexpected show of strength.

  Nikita picked up his coffee mug without sitting down. "At least tell me the name of the artist so I can contact them to purchase a painting of my own."