He totally had her there.
“I’m getting a little worried that she isn’t making an appearance,” he added.
Flambé took a deep breath. Now they were getting into muddy waters. “She was very upset when those men said all those things about me—and about her.” She rubbed her palm up and down his thigh. The soft material of his trousers felt sexy over the muscle of his thigh. “Matherson really frightened her as well.”
Sevastyan rubbed his chin on top of her head. “She’ll probably feel more secure once she sees everything is all right at the house. You can work on the designs and bring your crew out. I really would like you to start an indoor garden like this one that we can build onto the house. I have the perfect spot in mind for it. I’ve already got the beams in place that would hold the necessary rigging for suspension. I was going to use the garages for something else and changed my mind. I have lofts and pulley systems in place and the high ceilings are there. We’d have to convert the outside walls to glass but that’s easy enough. The two garages connect and both are enormous. We could start with one.”
Flambé heard the enthusiasm in his voice, but she had to be so careful not to be entirely sucked in. Just the fact that he’d said those things to his cousin about finding a submissive, one on their first life cycle, was another strike against him. It didn’t matter how much she loved sex with him or how compatible they were when it came to sex. Eventually, she knew how things ended up with shifters.
She wanted the enthusiasm for the project to be as real later as it was right then. A garden for them was a project they could do together. She wanted something that was theirs. Something they could start their life going forward with. In a perfect world, he would support her business and her need to continue rescuing shifter species as their numbers in the world diminished. She would do her best to understand what he did and try to be supportive. Sadly, she’d seen too much of shifter life. The real world didn’t work that way.
“I’ve got the schedule worked out, Sevastyan.” She tried to suppress a yawn. All she really wanted to do was sleep. “My crew will be working on the property in three weeks. That will give me enough time to figure out all the trees, plants and design work, order them, the dirt we’ll need and . . .” She trailed off, waving her hand. “I’ll take care of the details.”
“You do that. I’ll take care of the other details.” He stood up easily, with her still in his arms.
“What would those be?”
“The marriage license. Where. When. Those kinds of things.”
Her heart stuttered. That couldn’t happen, no matter what kind of fairy tale she wanted to be living in.
9
SEVASTYAN stared out the window of his cousin’s large pool room. He’d known all along the day of reckoning would be coming. No one ever escaped it forever. He had hoped for a little more time. Mitya had already gone through so much and he and Ania had barely started their lives together. They were still dancing around each other, madly in love, but not quite in sync yet.
He sighed and glanced at the door leading to the hallway. Flambé was in a small office most likely hunched over her desk, drawing various sketches for her clients—and for him—to look over. She amazed him with her endless ideas. They were brilliant. She was brilliant. He’d had no time with her. None.
They knew very little about each other and hadn’t managed to establish much in the way of trust. He hoped the things he’d told her, what little of himself he’d given her, was enough to get them through the hell that was coming.
Their relationship hadn’t progressed no matter how hard he’d tried to move it forward. There were reasons she couldn’t get married. She rarely told him anything personal about herself. She responded eagerly to sex wherever and whenever he initiated it, but rarely wanted to be touched outside otherwise. She didn’t pull away from him, but she never held his hand or reached out to him, touching his body, especially if anyone else was around. He found their relationship frustrating at times because he didn’t understand it—and her leopard had been stubbornly silent, adding to the frustration. Sevastyan knew he wasn’t the best at relationships. He had no idea how to be a good partner to a woman, but he tried.
Now, it seemed, time for them had run out. Flambé had courage, but she wasn’t a violent person. He was extremely violent. She might fight beside him if she absolutely had to, and he doubted if she would hesitate to kill, but she wasn’t the type of person to walk up, stick a gun to someone’s head and pull the trigger. She would definitely not be okay with the kinds of things he did in his job. The premise of their work might appeal to her, but not the actual day-to-day process.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. Mitya knew she wasn’t like the other women. He’d told Sevastyan. Warned him. Lectured him. Sevastyan didn’t need the warnings or the lectures. It was far too late for all of them—especially Flambé. She had to find a way to live with him. He swore to himself he would make things as easy on her as possible, but now, with this new development, life was going to be hell for all of them.
There was no putting off the inevitable and he strode out of the room and down the hall to his cousin’s study. Mitya was at his desk reading the reports Drake Donovan sent him on the latest crimes and who they needed to hit and when. Sevastyan didn’t bother to knock. He just walked in and shut the door, indicating to Mitya he didn’t want anyone, even their most trusted men, to overhear the conversation.
Mitya looked up alertly and turned off his tablet, giving Sevastyan his complete attention.
“Rolan is in the United States. He came in through Miami. Sasha Bogomolov sent word he came in under diplomatic protection.” Sasha Bogomolov was one of their shifter allies out of Miami. “Rolan has his own men with him, his security detail. He stayed one night at a hotel and there was a private plane waiting for him and his men. He flew to New Orleans. I find it very telling that New Orleans seems to keep being a repeating factor whenever we have trouble. He was in New Orleans for three days. I’ve got our people looking into what he did there. Where he went, who he spoke with.”
Sevastyan kept his voice completely expressionless. Rolan Amurov was his father, the man who beat his mother to death with his bare fists in front of Sevastyan. Before the life had drained from her, Rolan set his leopard loose on her so the savage animal could tear her apart. Sevastyan would never forget that sight as long as he lived. The rage in him would never be satisfied. The hatred in him was as alive in that moment as it had been when he was a young teen, beaten and bloody, helpless to stop his father from killing his mother.
Still, his heartbeat didn’t change. His expression didn’t change. His tone didn’t either. He met Mitya’s eyes without blinking. Without emotion. He was disciplined. He was prepared. He was merciless. “Rolan has sworn to kill you, Fyodor, Timur, Gorya and, of course, me. You first. You bested your father and in order for him to prove to the other lairs that he is the strongest and the most dangerous vor of all time, he has to kill you.”
Sevastyan knew the real reason Rolan wanted to kill Mitya and Sevastyan both. He despised them. He had despised his older brother Lazar, Mitya’s father. Lazar was cruel, crueler even than Rolan.
“Let him come, Sevastyan. He’s coming into our territory and he won’t be as prepared as he thinks he is,” Mitya said.
“From New Orleans he went to Houston. He’s gathering men-shifters and he’s gathering information. He isn’t coming in blind. He isn’t as arrogant as Lazar was. Or Patva, for that matter.” He named his uncles, both now dead. “Mitya, I’m responsible for Ania’s safety and yours. I don’t want you to make this harder for me. You gave me your word that you’d abide by my rules. I don’t tell you to do things because I want power. I tell you to keep you and Ania safe.”
Mitya drummed his fingers on the desk top, betraying his agitation. “Who keeps you safe?”
“I know what I’m doing. You have to
have faith in me. I plan for everything. I always have backup plans. You two are the main priority at all times.”
Mitya jerked his head toward the hallway. “What about Flambé?”
“She’ll be close. I have a safe room. You do as well. Both houses are nearly impossible to gain entrance into. We’ve locked them down tight.”
He wasn’t going to be drawn into an idiotic discussion on who he would protect first—his woman or his cousin. That was pointless. He’d been guarding Mitya for as long as he could remember, even back in the old days, back when they were in the lairs. He’d done his best to watch his cousin’s back just as Mitya has watched his. Flambé would be safe because few people knew about her. Sevastyan hadn’t yet married her. That was a plus. He would insist she was either at Mitya’s estate or his. She would do as she was told. She might not like it, but she would do it.
“I gave you my word, Sevastyan,” Mitya conceded. “What do you want to do?”
“I’ve already made the move to get eyes on Rolan. In the meantime, I’m sending for shifters we can trust. We’ll build up our own army here. Rolan will probably send in a couple of mercenary shifter teams to test us, someone we won’t connect with him. I’m going to suggest to Timur that Fyodor take Evangeline and the twins and go on an extended vacation until I send word that we’re clear. Timur and Ashe will go with them. Timur would never allow Fyodor to go anywhere without guarding him. I’m asking Gorya to stay with us. I trust him implicitly.”
“It won’t be easy getting Fyodor to go.”
“He has children,” Sevastyan pointed out. “Timur can be very persuasive especially when it comes to Evangeline and the twins’ safety. Fyodor has had enough time to learn to trust his judgment.”
Mitya tried to give him a hard stare. “Is that some kind of a crack at me?”
Sevastyan shrugged. “Only if you aren’t listening.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get ahold of Drake. I need to pull in some of the others I trust.”
“I trust Miron and Rodion Galerkin, but you beat the shit out of them and put them out of commission,” Mitya groused. “Was that really necessary?”
Mitya was fishing. He had no idea why Sevastyan had come to the house in the middle of the night a couple of weeks earlier, yanked Miron out of his bed and beat him to a bloody pulp. He’d calmly walked past three guards to find Rodion and done the same to him, almost without breaking a sweat. He’d left both men on the ground and just walked off into the night without a word.
Sevastyan stared at him with cool eyes, never blinking, not bothering to answer. He wouldn’t have done it had he not considered it necessary. Mitya could order the men to tell him why, if he wanted to know that bad, but neither man would be able to talk for a while. Sevastyan had made certain of that. The doctor had wired their jaws shut, which meant they couldn’t shift for a short period of time. Shifters were fast healers, but their leopards would be furious, and they wouldn’t be so happy drinking their food. He figured it might give them some time to think before they gossiped—especially about him.
Mitya sighed. “You’re a mean son of a bitch, Sevastyan.”
“That’s what makes me good at what I do.” He planted both hands on the desk and leaned over to look at his cousin. “Mitya, I’m not willing to lose you or Ania. I’ll be talking to her, but you do it first. You curb that streak in her so I don’t have to. She won’t like me much if I have to lock her up.”
“She thinks you’re going to let her drive.”
“Neither of you are going anywhere. The safest place for both of you is right here. I want her out of that garage once I tell you he’s actually out of Houston. At the moment, you’re safe enough, so if you want to take her to dinner, or do something special, get it done now. You’ve probably got another week at the most.”
Mitya nodded. “Thanks, Sevastyan. I’ll let you know my plans well in advance.” He cleared his throat. “I know you don’t like to talk about this, but I think it’s necessary to point out that sometimes leopards can make mistakes on their first life cycles.”
“Don’t start, Mitya.” Sevastyan glared at him. “We’ve had this conversation three times.”
“She doesn’t look at you the way a woman should look at her man. You said yourself her leopard hasn’t made her presence known for a long time. There could be a mistake.”
“You don’t know the first thing about her.”
“Do you?” Mitya challenged.
Pushing down the inevitable rage, Sevastyan left the room, glanced at his watch again and headed for the small office at the very end of the hall. Just thinking about his woman sent little flames licking over his skin and down his spine. Deliberately he slowed his steps so he could savor the way his body responded to the thought of her. It didn’t matter that he’d just been thinking some of the very things Mitya had been saying. He knew Flambé was the right woman for him. He just had to figure out why she wasn’t so certain.
His blood turned into a raging inferno while a fireball rolled and twisted in his gut. He’d needed sex all the time before he found Flambé, but he could force himself to go without. Now, she was his addiction. His obsession. He craved the sight of her. The touch of her skin. Her hair. The scent of her. The taste of her.
He dreamt of her. Woke up in the middle of the night reaching for her. Opened his eyes in the morning, his body hard and painful, erotic images pouring into his mind, all of her. Now, the whips of lightning flashing through his body to strike at his cock and balls aroused him with every step he took.
The room given to Flambé to work in was the last of the offices down the long hallway. He yanked open the door and closed it, locking it as he did so. Sometimes, when he came into the room, all he could think of was eating her alive. He would strip her, plant her on the desk and put his mouth between her legs. Now, his cock was a monster, driving him into a frenzy of urgent, almost desperate hunger.
Flambé stood bent over the desk. The light was on under the drawing she was examining and she had a pencil in her mouth, her teeth biting down on it. Her hair spilled down, unusual for her. As a rule she wore it up, but clearly she’d pulled out the tie keeping it drawn away from her face, so the silky mass cascaded down her back. She half turned to look at him over her shoulder.
He was on her in seconds, his leopard fast, the room so small he covered the distance in a one leap. He put a hand between her shoulder blades to press her down until her breasts lay on the surface of the desk.
“Stay still.” He reached with both hands to open her jeans, yanking them down along with her panties. “Kick off your shoes and step out of your clothes.”
She obeyed him while he pulled her T-shirt up and over her head, ridding her of her bra at the same time. She lifted her body just enough that he could slide the material out from under her before he pressed her down again. He liked her body bare, all that smooth skin for him to see and feel. She didn’t seem to like light touches. She winced when he touched her that way, so he always used a firm, hard grip. Possessive strokes.
“The next time I tie you.” He used the top of his boot to nudge her legs wide. Then wider still. “I’m going to leave rope marks on your skin so I can see them for a day or two.” He opened his jeans and released his burning cock. He bent forward so she could feel the friction of his clothing rubbing along her body just before his teeth nipped her earlobe. His fingers slid into her entrance to find her slick with heat. “I see you like the idea.”
“Yes.” She whispered her response.
He didn’t wait. There was no waiting. He gripped her hips and slammed into her, watching in awe as her body swallowed his cock. She looked so small, stretching to accommodate his size. He felt her sheath, that scorching hot tunnel fighting his invasion, but giving way as he drove through those tight muscles gripping him, the friction unreal. He wanted to roar with ecstasy. She surrounded him like a fiery, silken
fist as he surged into her again and again, using his strength, burying himself in that perfect haven he never wanted to leave.
He might want to stay there forever, but he had a job and he needed to ensure he set everything in place for all of his cousins to be safe. He moved faster and deeper in her, watching her body slide into her desk, each jolt causing her breasts to skid and bounce over the glass overlay, adding to the visual appeal as he fucked her hard.
Flambé’s bright hair went wild, the silken mass spilling everywhere. Her naked body, nearly buried beneath his fully clothed, much larger one, was a sight, her curves all feminine. Her breath went ragged, labored, hips pushing back into his, desperate for him, as her body coiled tighter and tighter. White-hot lightning lashed at him, struck hard, surrounded and clamped down, strangling his cock. A wicked, silken fist squeezed while a thousand scorching-hot tongues stroked and licked along his shaft and over his crown. Twin out-of-control firestorms settled in his balls, raged there and sent a volcano erupting in hot jetting pulses, coating the walls of her sheath with his semen over and over. Thunder roared while her body rippled powerfully around his.
He lay over the top of her, finding his breath while aftershocks triggered Flambé’s body to clamp down over and over around his cock. He savored the feeling, just holding her, wishing for more time with her. When things settled down, he wanted to turn his cousin’s security over to Gorya for a couple of weeks and just spend time with Flambé at their home. Just the two of them. Or take her off where no one would interrupt them.
Reluctantly, he straightened and gently helped her to stand as well, turning her to face him. “Clean me up, baby,” he ordered. “I’m short on time or I’d spend a little time with you.”
“Because you spend so much time with me when we’re here,” she said, flicking him a quick glance from under her long red-gold-tipped lashes.
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