Leopard's Rage

by Christine Feehan

  “Baby, go to your office.” He spoke softly but it was a command, nothing less. “You can wait for me there.”

  Flambé looked at him for one long moment and then she was gone. Her leopard was gone as well. He felt the retreat. The suppression. They all did. She turned and walked away from him, straight toward the back of the house, which could mean anything. He was fairly certain she wasn’t heading to her office, more likely straight to the back door.

  He had no idea where Rolan was. He had no idea where Franco Matherson was. He swore under his breath. His sins seemed to be piling up. He stood for a long moment staring down at the floor before turning his icy gaze on his cousin. “You can fucking burn in hell, Mitya. I won’t be forgiving that shit anytime soon. When this is over, you can find yourself a new head of security. Kirill, I need you to watch over her for me. If I lose her, I lose everything.”

  He turned his back on his cousin, not waiting for his response, and stalked down the hall to the cops, knowing they were there to ask him about Franco Matherson and the feud they supposedly had. Matherson could burn in hell as well.

  Stalking down the hall straight into the sitting room where the cops waited for him, he entered, letting his rage fill the air, blasting hot, violent red. He knew they felt the feral emotion. The walls could barely contain the predator in him. Shturm raged with him, a cruel, deadly leopard, furious and determined to break free, to kill anyone in his way so he could get to his mate.

  “Gentlemen. Make this fast and to the point. I’m busy and you’ve come at a very bad time for me, so this had better not be a fucking bullshit harassment visit.” He didn’t bother to take one of the chairs as Mitya did, but remained standing as the other bodyguards had done. “Let’s get started.”

  14

  KIRILL and Matvei had conveyed to Sevastyan that there had been a very brief argument at the back door with Flambé the night before. Flambé wanted to leave Mitya’s house, just as Sevastyan had known she would, and they had refused to allow it. She’d asked if she was a prisoner, and they had tried to be as gentle as possible with her, reminding her there could be danger. He knew they genuinely liked her. Who wouldn’t—other than Mitya. Mitya seemed to really dislike her. And she disliked him.

  Mitya. Sevastyan knew he wasn’t being fair to his cousin. Mitya was trying to protect him, just as he’d tried for years, when he was a child. Looking at it from his perspective, Flambé appeared as cold as ice to Sevastyan. She wouldn’t so much as hold his hand. If one compared Ania, with her loving, adoring looks at her husband, touching him every chance she got, to Flambé, who wouldn’t go near Sevastyan, who could blame Mitya for thinking Flambé had no feelings for him? Sevastyan didn’t really believe she did either. He hoped for it, but he didn’t believe it. Still, his leopard was mated to hers.

  Sevastyan sighed and paced back and forth across the kitchen floor. He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of soft pants riding low on his hips, wondering if he should try to use a tie to get Flambé to talk to him. She had refused all night. He didn’t blame her. She was silent on the ride home in the car, but the bodyguards were with them. He hadn’t tried to talk to her either.

  The moment they arrived in the house, she’d gone straight upstairs and was in the shower. She’d spent a great deal of time there. He knew she was crying. He fucking hated that with every breath he drew, but he wasn’t certain how to handle her tears. She was completely closed off from him. She’d shut him out. He felt the distance between them. He didn’t just feel it, Shturm felt it as well. His cat prowled and snarled, pacing back and forth as if afraid she might bolt, taking his mate with her.

  No matter how many ways he’d opened the conversation, trying to explain, she had shut it down, turning away from him, acting indifferent, uncaring, curling into the smallest ball he’d ever seen in the middle of their bed while he was so restless, his body raging at him for relief, desperate to rid itself of the buildup of aggression that was worsening by the moment. He didn’t want to use the ropes. He wanted to talk to Flambé, to try to sort out what was between them, to come to terms together and commit to each other.

  Her leopard had to emerge soon. The few glimpses he’d manage to catch, the female had been potent, bordering on desperate. She was so close. Heaven help him, but she needed to make her appearance before Rolan made his. Somehow, and he wasn’t certain how, he had to make this right with Flambé.

  The fragrance with little hints of freesia, Moroccan rose and Egyptian jasmine spiced with cinnamon, cloves and coriander drifted to him. He inhaled deeply, taking her into his lungs. She smelled like heaven to him. The moment he scented her, he tasted her on his tongue. That set up a craving. He was addicted to that taste, the combination.

  He turned to greet her. She looked pale, dark circles under her eyes. She’d slept restlessly. “Good morning.” He didn’t have a great opening line and he needed one. Desperately. They had to talk things out.

  She nodded to him. To get to the coffee pot, she’d have to walk past him. She could skirt around the long kitchen aisle, but that would only prove she was avoiding him. She didn’t even look at the coffee pot. She went straight to the refrigerator, took out a bottle of water, and went out the door to the verandah.

  Sevastyan sighed and followed her. “We’re going to have to talk about it, Flambé.”

  She leaned against the railing, staring out over the expanse of property. She didn’t even turn her head. “I don’t see any point. You explain. I accept the explanation. Then everything goes to hell all over again. It’s kind of a vicious cycle, Sevastyan.” She took a sip of water. “Do you know what I like about plants? About trees and shrubs? You can count on them. They’re always going to perform the same way.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I’m beginning to see that in you. I just had different expectations.” Her half smile held no humor. “Leopards don’t really change their spots.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She turned away from him. It never failed to amaze him how much she appealed to him. Everything about her. He should have been telling her that from the start. Now, if he said it she wouldn’t believe him. He tried to think what Mitya did for Ania. Mitya could be tough, even brutal, and Ania and Mitya had a very healthy sex life, but what were the small things that his cousin did that made Ania know he loved her beyond all else?

  Actions were always so much better than words. He’d made the mistake of relying on their sex life, their connection through the ropes, and not putting any real thought into the little things that would have reassured Flambé that he meant to put her first in their life together. Had he done that, what had transpired the night before wouldn’t have caused such a visceral reaction.

  “You have to be who you are, Sevastyan. I have to be who I am. It’s that simple when you really come down to it.”

  “What do you think I’m like?”

  “You know what you’re like. I don’t have to tell you.” She pushed her hair back and then pressed the water bottle to her temple. “I’ve got a bit of a headache. I think I need caffeine. If you’ll excuse me.” She turned away from him and went back inside.

  Cursing under his breath, Sevastyan followed her in. The moment the door swung closed, the strobes went off, indicating someone had driven onto the property. “We’ve got company, Flambé,” he called out and snagged a gun, going to the front door, eyes on the security screen. “Stay out of sight.”

  She didn’t answer him, but he knew she wouldn’t disobey. Flambé might be upset with him, but she would never compromise either one of their safety out of spite. Savastyan recognized Cain Dufort as he strode confidently up the walkway and then up the stairs to ring the doorbell.

  Sevastyan opened the door slowly, warily, the gun in his fist, ready to kill Cain if the man made one wrong move. “You didn’t call ahead, Cain. I wasn’t expecting visitors this morning.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t want
to sound overly dramatic but I need to talk to you and I don’t know if someone is listening to either of our phones.”

  Sevastyan shoved the gun into the waistband of his pants and stepped back, indicating for Cain to enter the house. As he closed the door, turning to keep Cain in sight, he caught sight of Flambé coming from the kitchen. She had a smile on her face, not for him, but for Cain. Even her eyes were lit up. He detested that Cain Dufort could make her smile so spontaneously like that while she was so guarded around him.

  “Cain, how lovely to see you. There’s a fresh pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?” She went right up to him as if she might plant a kiss on his cheek.

  Shturm roared with rage and leapt toward Cain, raking at Sevastyan to break free. Sevastyan circled Flambé’s upper arm with false gentleness and pulled her away from the other man, around his body and behind him. “I doubt he’ll be staying that long. What can I do for you, Cain?” Sevastyan focused completely on the club owner, letting him see how close his leopard was. How close the danger really was.

  Cain shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sevastyan, I had to come. I know Flambé’s close to the emergence, but the cops came to the club asking questions about you. They claimed they questioned you and you said you were at the club that night. They asked for the proof. I refused to give them tapes, but they’re asking for photographic evidence. I won’t give it to them without your consent.”

  Flambé stiffened. He felt her step away from him.

  “Flambé, go upstairs and wait for me,” Sevastyan said. He spoke very quietly, but it was an order.

  He found it difficult to maintain when his leopard was losing control, due to having a large, unclaimed leopard in his prime be so close to his mate when she was near the emergence. That would be bad enough, but Flambé wasn’t committed to Sevastyan. She seemed to look on Cain with more favor. That put Sevastyan on edge, coloring the edges of his world a dark red and stirring the terrible well of rage that was always present, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it.

  Flambé barely glanced at him as she walked past him. He was surprised that she actually went without a protest. Her shoulders were straight, her head up. She was barely speaking after the fiasco with Mitya and now hearing from Cain that he’d been at the club, he could imagine what she thought. He should have just told her. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about it. He didn’t want her knowing he’d been stalking Matherson to kill him.

  “Give them the photos, Cain,” Sevastyan said once Flambé had disappeared from their sight and he heard the soft closing of the master bedroom door. “I don’t have anything to hide. They did question me. Apparently, there was some party at a place Matherson was renting and the cops found dead bodies. How they think I could possibly be involved I have no idea. Matherson apparently disappeared. I had my people check and his private plane is gone. It was my bad luck to drop by the club to see you that night to ask to take a look at the garden Flambé planted for you. I only saw it the one time and I wasn’t paying attention to it.”

  “Yes, you mentioned that you came to get her and took advantage of being alone in my little paradise. I wish I’d been there.”

  “It was just as well you weren’t. I would hate to have to do in one of my good friends.” Sevastyan put an edgy humor into his voice. “I’d like her to make us a garden. Something a little different, but I thought your idea was a good one.”

  Cain grinned at him. “I do like your woman. I wasn’t certain she was leopard, although I was beginning to suspect. It was my bad luck that you recognized what she was and claimed her before I ever got a chance. I need to find a mate for mine before it’s too late or he’s going to rip me or someone else apart.” The smile faded. He turned and walked toward the door. “You need something, let me know. There aren’t too many of us to count on.”

  “I was shocked that my leopard was so fiercely certain hers was his mate. He wanted her and he immediately was protective of her. There was zero hesitation on his part. Don’t stay in your office all the time, or your club. You might want to talk to Flambé once her leopard’s emerged and she’s through the heat cycle. It’s possible she could introduce you to a few shifter women. But, Cain”—his voice went from friendly to cautionary—“don’t claim one unless you’re certain you’re going to treat her right, with respect. It isn’t fair to take one and then toss her aside and continue your lifestyle. Incorporating her into it is one thing, but leaving her behind is another altogether.”

  Cain nodded. “I’ll talk to Flambé when you give me the go-ahead.”

  Sevastyan saw him out, closed the door and watched him until the car had pulled down the driveway and he was certain the club owner had driven off the property. He stood for a time at the bottom of the stairs, feeling like he was starting all over again with Flambé. She had trust issues, big ones, and he hadn’t even scratched the surface with what the problems between them were. Now this happened.

  Sighing, he went up to her. It felt like a hell of a long way up those stairs. Their bedroom was empty. He looked around. It was perfectly neat, not so much as a wrinkle in the perfectly made bed. Flambé didn’t throw tantrums. She didn’t yell. She didn’t fight. She retreated. She withdrew. She took herself far, far away. He could tell himself he had her, but he knew he didn’t.

  He padded silently across the room, stalking her like the predator he was. He was leopard. A shifter. A very dominant alpha. She was a shifter and they lived by shifter law. No one broke those laws. She knew that. He crossed to the slider and stood for a moment regarding his elusive strawberry leopard.

  Flambé sat outside on the balcony watching birds hopping from one branch to another in the trees, busy calling to one another as they flitted about. She didn’t look up or acknowledge him. She wasn’t drinking the fresh coffee he’d brewed. She had the same cold bottle of water. She preferred water to most drinks.

  “I owe you an explanation.” Sevastyan pulled his chair around to sit facing her rather than beside her. He wanted to see her expression. Her eyes. Right now, she refused to look at him, even when he was right in front of her, larger than life. The night before, she had cried. He’d seen the evidence of her tears on her face, but she hadn’t talked to him. Hadn’t let him in. Now, she was more closed off than ever.

  “I told you, I don’t need an explanation.”

  There was no expression whatsoever in her voice.

  He tried not to glance at his watch. He had to get to Mitya’s house soon. Time was getting away from them. He knew if he even mentioned his cousin’s home or his work, he wouldn’t have a chance to make things right with Flambé. “You’re going to get one. There was a reason I went to the club.”

  She sighed. “Of course there was a reason you went to the club, Sevastyan. The first time I ever saw you it was at the club. I know what you do there. I knew you went there. I’m leopard, or did you forget that? I smelled it on you. All those men and women. The sex. It isn’t that difficult. I waited for you to give me an explanation and you didn’t. If you were going to, you would have at the time. Not now. Not when you humiliated me in front of your cousin and men by pointing out to me that I’m exactly what he said I was, a sex object to you and nothing more. Your toy, I believe I was called. I didn’t expect you to be going to the club already, but I knew, sooner or later, you’d go back to it.”

  She shrugged and continued to stare straight ahead as if she was talking to the landscape. “Fortunately, I have a very strong sex drive and I’m familiar with the club and what goes on there. Had you just been honest in the first place and told me that was the kind of open relationship we were going to have, I would have understood the rules.”

  In spite of his determination to work things out, that one little line and the casual way she said it sent crimson fire rushing through his veins. Shturm roared a challenge and leapt at him, clawing and raking wildly.

  “What exactly does that mean, Fla
mbé?” He kept his voice low, strictly velvet, back to the dominant in him.

  She shrugged again and took a drink of water. “Don’t you have to go to work? Naturally, I prefer to work from home. We both know this house is extremely safe. You went out of your way to make certain no one could break into it and there’s a tunnel between the two properties no one knows about. I don’t want to set foot in your cousin’s home. It would be utterly humiliating to me.”

  He was fucked any way he responded to that. If he forced her, he was the worst partner on the face of the earth, but if he didn’t, he would be seriously worried and divided constantly over her protection. And then there was the question of what the hell her statement about the club meant. They had a lot to clear up.

  “Flambé, what exactly did you mean about you and the club? I absolutely require an answer.”

  “I meant, as far as I’m concerned, since I’m considered a sex object anyway and you feel you can go to the club and do whatever you want, there’s no reason I shouldn’t go. It certainly shouldn’t bother you.”

  Shturm rose so fast that for a moment Sevastyan actually had to struggle with him for supremacy. What do you think you’re doing? If you hurt her, you hurt Flamme. Back off. Sevastyan stayed very still, breathing down the ever-present rage, reminding himself that Flambé was very hurt. Mitya had dismissed her in a cutting way and Sevastyan had let it stand in front of everyone, leading her to believe that the original things said about her were what they all thought of her—were what he thought of her.

  She had smelled the club on him when he’d come home to her and she hadn’t said a word, waiting for him to give her an explanation. When he hadn’t, she’d pulled back. It was no wonder she had suppressed Flamme. The two had to be confused. Hurt and confused. He couldn’t compound errors by scaring them both with his temper and Shturm’s.