Sevastyan felt like Shturm did most of the time, wanting to claw and rake, to break free and murder something or someone. She was very subdued, no expression in her voice, but he had been to her property with her to get her things.
The studio was situated right next to a koi pond where lavender and lacy ferns sprang around the wide bluish-black rock and tree limbs wept long green fringe into the water. The walkway leading to the studio was paved in the same bluish-black stones and the building fit perfectly with the setting, a small artsy one-bedroom cottage with a kitchenette and bathroom. The porch overlooked the pond, as did the front windows, giving Flambé a wonderful view, but that view would be far different as an adult than it would be as a child, not to mention it wouldn’t have been all that safe for a child alone.
“Get your shoes, baby,” he said softly.
He was the one who needed to run now. His body raged at him. Normally he would have turned to sex, going to Cain’s club, losing himself in the sheer beauty of tying the ropes, laying down a masterpiece on a blank canvas, and after, giving his body the release it needed, a totally unsatisfying mindless fuck that never did anything but let some of the volcanic rage go long enough to get by for a few days or, if he was lucky, weeks.
Now that he had Flambé, everything was different. His art was personal. Her body was the perfect canvas and each time he tied her, no matter how he decided to lay the ropes on her body, the color or texture, the pattern, it had to be on her because she was the one who made his art a masterpiece. She made it come alive. She took his cock and actually, in spite of his addiction to her, sated him enough that he could sleep. She managed to quiet the ferocious rage in him that he had thought was impossible to ever tame. Sadly, whatever she needed from him he wasn’t giving her—yet. He was determined to figure it out. His little strawberry leopard mattered to him, whether she thought so or not.
He waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. She hadn’t tried to change one thing in the house. She hadn’t asked for her own office. She’d barely moved her clothes into their bedroom. Each time he’d named a day to get married, she’d come up with an excuse why she couldn’t make that work. He was so busy with Mitya’s business, so used to being at his cousin’s beck and call, that he’d let that all slide. The only thing he’d really demanded of Flambé was for her to work at Mitya’s estate when she was drawing up plans and to sleep in their bedroom. She’d given him both.
He gave a low growl as he paced back and forth. How was he different than anyone else in her life? He was truly neglectful of her. He needed to find a way to spend more time with her, to make her know she was his priority. They had sex. Crazy, kinky, hot, wild, insane, insatiable sex. She distracted him with sex and he let her. He distracted her with sex and she let him. Their relationship was founded on sex and seemed to be about sex. She was comfortable with that and wanted to keep it that way. She hid herself from him unless . . .
Sevastyan abruptly stopped pacing. Flambé couldn’t hide from him when she was in the ropes. She was too vulnerable and open to him. Too connected to him. That was the one place she was honest with him whether she wanted to be or not. He had to be careful though. He couldn’t use that too much or too often. In any case, he would prefer to have her trust him. He wanted her to want to get to know him. To want to share his home.
Shturm leapt just as he scented her. It was more than scenting her. He felt her in his skin, that was how connected to her he was. He looked up, watching her come to him. She looked confident, very much Flambé, but he knew her every subtlety now, every little sign, and she was nervous. It was there in the tension of her fingers as she twisted them together to keep them still as she descended the staircase. It was the way she held her head, her shoulders very straight, not nearly as relaxed as normal. She definitely had a problem relating to him when they were alone and they weren’t having sex.
Deliberately, he allowed his gaze to sweep over her, and then he held out his hand. She had no choice but to take it or to be rude. There was just the briefest of hesitations before she put her hand in his. He doubted if too many others would have even noticed the slip. He closed his fingers around hers firmly and drew her in close to his body, walking her to the front door.
“I thought we could walk around to the back of the house to warm up and then jog to the woods and run once we get in them. You had to have created pathways between the trees and I’d like to see the new ones that were planted. It looks so beautiful from a distance and I haven’t had time to get up close to appreciate it. You do amazing work, Flambé. I don’t tell you enough.”
She glanced up at him, looking surprised. “You tell me.”
“No, I don’t. I have to drive around the city quite a bit with Mitya and I make it a practice to find all the places you’ve worked. I like to see what you’ve done. I know it has nothing at all to do with me, but it gives me a sense of pride that I even know you when I look at the various places you’ve transformed. The downtown park in particular was the biggest shock to me. I saw all the before and after pictures. That was your project alone, wasn’t it? Your vision?”
He felt the tension slowly leaving her body. She did love her work, another connection he could make with her if she just would let him. He hadn’t realized until he was around her how much he liked plants and trees. It was the leopard in him, needing to climb, needing the camouflage around him.
“I underbid that project for the city, but I really wanted to do it,” Flambé admitted. “I wanted a place for everyone of all ages to be able to go. Somewhere peaceful.”
“I think you managed it beautifully and it seems easy to maintain.”
“I tried. The other project I really enjoyed was the Golden Dragon Restaurant. They have such a beautiful piece of property to work with and the owner just let me do what I felt was best. Most owners have a million ideas and they don’t have a clue what types of plants work with their soil or terrain. I was able to give him a small fall tumbling over rocks into a small stream that feeds a koi pond. The gardens are gorgeous and grew up fast. I wanted the trees to be colorful, and Japanese maples fill that bill, especially dwarf maples, but the sun is too hot here for them.”
Her voice was still low and husky, but her joy created an intimacy between them that hadn’t been there before. He had slowed his steps to match her shorter ones. He wanted to watch her face, but he’d been too long in security, always looking out for danger, and she was too precious to him to take chances with. His gaze swept the roof of every building, rocks, bushes, trees, anything that might hide an enemy, but his attention was riveted on her. He counted on his leopard to be a sentry, to warn him if there was trouble close by.
“Was there a way to solve the problem?”
“There’s always a way, Sevastyan. I just had to give it some thought. I wanted those crimson reds and gorgeous yellows and bright greens. Even some of the branches and trunks can be red when the leaves fall. I planted taller shade trees first and then the dwarf trees once the shade trees took root and were a certainty to make it. The Golden Dragon is known for its garden almost as much as it is for its food now, and the garden is still quite young.”
He slung his arm around her neck and pulled her in close to drop a kiss on top of her head. “You’re so damn smart and talented, woman. I’ve developed a real love of plants just looking at all the various gardens you’ve worked on around the city.”
He let her go. They were at the back of the house, where they could easily begin to jog. He set an easy pace. He had much longer legs, so it was a matter of making certain she wasn’t running to keep up. When he was certain she was comfortable with their pace, he continued the conversation.
“I bought a bunch of catalogues when you were talking to Brent Shriver, your supplier.”
“Sevastyan.” She almost wailed his name. “Why would you do that? I have tons of catalogues. And I mostly use him for exotic plants. His pri
ces are higher than the norm.”
“You don’t seem to like talking about your work with me. I thought if I educated myself on the plants it would help. I like having them in the house as well as outside. I’m really anxious to start planning the indoor garden with you. I thought about what you said, that it might be too big and we might have to do it in sections. I hadn’t thought that it could be overwhelming. You’re just one person and it is very personal since we’re incorporating bondage equipment as part of the basic décor.”
He caught her green gaze going amber, flashing at him before she turned her face forward, toward the trees. She jogged almost a yard before she replied. “I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I didn’t want to discuss my work with you. I guess I thought you’d find it boring. You work late and whatever you do is . . . complicated. I don’t even know exactly what it is you do.”
There was always going to be that lying between them. His work. There was no getting around that and no getting out of it. He was what he was. What he’d been born into. She already suspected. She heard the rumors. Hell, he’d told her. She saw him get out of a car and she might not have witnessed him shooting someone, but she certainly suspected that he had. He’d admitted to her that he’d hunted and killed the men who were waiting to kidnap her on his property. Once her leopard emerged, she would know what he was.
Sevastyan stayed quiet. There wasn’t much to say. He looked down at the top of her head, at the messy topknot of impossibly bright red hair. It was definitely red. And very thick and wild. Untamed. That should have given him a clue right there. He’d been so damned complacent, so arrogant just because she liked the ropes. Because she craved sex the way he did. Not exactly the same way. Her body was very sensitive, her nerve endings burning close to the surface, causing the sensations to be almost painful.
They were coming up on the trees and he indicated for her to go ahead of him and set the pace. She had a shorter stride and she could run full out and still not be anywhere near as fast as he was. He didn’t want her to know how fast he could run. Sevastyan kept himself in top fighting shape at all times. Amur leopards were fast and could leap amazing distances, both horizontally and vertically. Shturm had set records at both running and leaping. He could turn in midair and switch directions. He was also in top fighting form and far more experienced than most males. There was no doubt that he could keep his mate safe.
Sevastyan followed her through the path in the woods. It was narrow and wound in and out of the trees. She was faster than he thought she would be and she clearly was used to running. He should have known. He had used extreme exercise to stave off the terrible craving for sexual needs as long as he possibly could before he had Flambé in his life. She ran like a machine, her body flexible, muscles rippling beneath her thin tank and bunching in her thighs.
The rope marks were visible on her legs and arms. Her running top was short, ending just below her bra and exposing the line of rope knots down her back that still showed so beautifully on her skin. They fell into a rhythm easily, moving through the trees and bushes, and even with the fast pace, he found himself liking the way his marks of possession looked on her. He felt primitive toward her. Even predatory, much like his male leopard; primal, not wanting any other male close to her. He’d never experienced any emotion even close to what he was feeling.
Running gave him time to assess his unusual and unhealthy sentiments. He knew part of it was the fact that her leopard hadn’t emerged yet and his leopard was raging, prowling closer and closer to the surface every hour. Shturm was growing impatient just when Sevastyan was certain that he needed patience now more than ever.
“Head back to the house, baby,” he called out. “To the twin garages. I’ve had something I wanted to talk to you about.”
For a minute he wasn’t certain she would respond, but then she chose a path that would loop them back toward their home. He hadn’t been paying close attention to their route until that moment. She had run in the opposite direction of his cousin’s property, staying clear of any chance meeting with any of the shifters who might be working near the property lines. They weren’t that close, but they could have been.
Once out of the trees and into the clearing, Sevastyan lengthened his stride and paced himself beside her. “Are you ashamed for anyone to see my rope marks on you?” That would hurt. He knew it shouldn’t. Most women wouldn’t want others to see that they enjoyed being tied, but somehow he equated her being ashamed of the rope patterns with a rejection of him.
He caught just a brief glimpse of her eyes glittering green and gold, and then she was looking straight ahead again as she ran. “They belong to me and no one else. You gave them to me, like a gift. It felt intimate between us.”
He heard the truth in the husky vibration of her voice. She sounded close to tears and that was the last thing he wanted. Her answer was unexpected and pleasing.
He took his time before responding. “That’s why no one has ever been in our room. After it was renovated, I did all the other work myself so that when I found you, no one else had ever touched the equipment or seen it. It was just for you. For us. That’s the way I want our garden ultimately to be. Visitors can look from the outside, but I don’t want them in it. That will be ours and our leopards’.”
They got back to the house and he retrieved water and towels for them. She splashed water on her face and then drank thirstily, her gaze on the rope marks on her wrists and forearms. “I suppose I have to be careful when I’m going to meet with clients.”
Was there regret in her voice? He nodded solemnly. “I’ll pay attention to your work schedule and be mindful of how I tie you. I don’t have to leave marks that will stay. Most will fade in a few hours. These won’t last.”
Both carrying waters, they walked around the large house, down to the area where Dover had originally built the massive garages where he kept and worked on his cars. Ania’s family had been obsessed with cars and they could take them apart and put them back together, making them ten times better when they did so. The garages were used for making their cars fast enough to outrun anything on the road.
The garages were easily two stories high. The second stories consisted of long wooden lofts made up of very thick beams. The pulley systems the Dovers used to haul engines out of the cars hung from the beams. Crude staircases gave access to the lofts that ran the long length of the buildings. The two garages had been empty since Ania had moved out and sold the property to Sevastyan.
At first, she hadn’t wanted to sell. The property had been in her family for a long time and it was difficult for her to think of letting it go, but her life was committed to Mitya and she eventually decided she wanted Sevastyan to have the Dover estate. He had been there so many times and had unconsciously been making plans for it. Once living there, he’d discovered, the house and grounds had plenty of secrets, such as the tunnel leading between the properties. There was a second tunnel that led out to the highway. The Dovers believed in being careful. They weren’t quite as paranoid as he was, but he appreciated their efforts and was taking advantage of some of them.
Sevastyan led Flambé into the first garage, through the cavernous interior over to the far wall that separated the two garages. That wall was shared by the second garage. He stared up at the high ceilings and then the loft made up of the thick beams.
“I’ve spent a lot of time in here thinking about our leopards. Right here”—he put his hand on the wall—“this will come down when we open it up. If we planted a really big tree here, one with a thick trunk and large branches that grow out in both directions, as well as up toward the loft, we could create a really amazing space for our leopards.”
“Our leopards?” Flambé echoed, spinning around to look up at him, shock on her face. She had been wandering around, not really paying him much attention, but now she was wholly focused on him.
He nodded, ignoring her look of t
otal surprise. “When we tear the wall down, and utilize both garages, the space will be large enough for the leopards to really roam around, especially if we keep the loft. They’d have a climbing area, a place to rest, and several ways to escape from either side of the garden. If we got in trouble, they would be safe and so would we.”
Flambé stared up at the planks of wood overhead that still made up the loft where the pulley system that had dragged engines out of cars had been. She walked away from him and then out farther, where she continued to study the loft from different angles.
“We could make stairs to the roof in various directions from the loft. Long ones so they weren’t noticeable and the leopards could use them as perches or places to rest if they wanted,” she added. “I like the idea of a large tree here. I’d have to bring in a big crane and we’d need to put the roots down deep. That would require a very large hole.”
Sevastyan couldn’t help but drink in her expression. When she started talking about her work, the love of her plants and the designs she created, she practically glowed. She forgot all about being guarded and became totally enthusiastic. Clearly, she could envision the garden even better than he could.
“If we make the tree the focal point, the branches extending not only up toward the loft and roof but down toward the ground and whatever we choose to plant there, as well as outward to both sides of the garden, it could be extraordinary,” she continued. “I was thinking more along the lines of a water feature as a focal point, but this is brilliant when you not only consider the leopards and their needs, but any number of ways to escape danger.” She tapped her thigh with the water bottle. “Really, Sevastyan, this is good.”
“If you use a mature tree, how can you train the branches in the directions you want them to go?” He’d been curious about that. Most of the trees she planted were young enough that she could work with the immature limbs, twisting them and encouraging them gently, using materials to sculpt them in the forms and ways she wanted them to go. She could make a living tree a piece of art, and often did.
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