Leopard's Rage

by Christine Feehan

  This was so much worse than it ever had been. “Flamme, he isn’t here. Shturm isn’t here. You can’t rise when he isn’t here.” She made it a mantra. No leopard could rise without their mate around, right? That had to be right. She was beginning to think she wouldn’t be able to control the situation. She didn’t know. She just didn’t know. She hadn’t asked enough questions.

  Her breath came in ragged sobs, her lungs heaving. The burning between her legs grew and grew until it felt like a blowtorch. The terrible knots in her stomach, that pressure inside, coiled tighter and tighter until she thought she might die.

  Hands shaking, she looked around the room helplessly, desperate enough to call him. Sevastyan. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t be like the others. She wouldn’t put herself in the hands of a man. She’d never seen it work out. Not once. She didn’t know a single decent man. A shifter. They were all horrible. They all cheated. Were abusive. In the end he would hurt her. But this . . .

  She forced herself to the window, looking out over the trees and shrubs, the beauty she’d helped to create. He’d acted as if he’d actually been so proud of her. She’d seen it on his face. It was difficult to hide the truth from a leopard. There was so much about Sevastyan she didn’t understand. She wanted him to be real, but if she was wrong, she wouldn’t just pay with her life, she would pay with Flamme’s life as well. She’d sworn to protect her leopard.

  She pressed up against the coolness of the glass, her breasts on fire, her nipples two pinpoints of flames. She thought the cold would help, but it was so much worse, almost as if the cold were really hot wax poured over her breasts instead of cold. She cried out and jerked back, stumbling toward the bed.

  She needed relief. She had to have some relief. In her closet, that huge monstrosity of a room that passed for a closet, she had a drawer where she kept a variety of feminine toys. When she had forced herself to stay away from the bars, she had used the toys to try to give herself at least a little respite. Hopefully, they would help.

  Her skin lifted, a wave moving so that deep inside molten heat expanded and contracted like the inside of a volcano, as if it was breathing in and out, right before its final explosion. The feeling set every cell in her body, every nerve ending on fire. Between her legs and in her deepest core, she burned so hot she thought she’d go insane.

  She could barely keep her feet as she made her way to the closet and yanked open the door. It was absurd to have such a large area to store clothes. It was bigger than her little studio. Sometimes, when she woke in the middle of the night, she thought to sneak into it and sleep, but she knew if she moved, she’d wake Sevastyan.

  In any case, when she woke, she was instantly aware of his body curved around hers, large and hot. He was always hot. He took up so much space. He had a way of tucking his cock tight against her. He was mostly hard, even in his sleep, and she wanted to turn and take him in her mouth, feel the weight of him on her tongue. See how long it would take before he took control from her.

  She groaned. This wasn’t the time to be thinking about his cock, not when her entire body was hurting so bad and poor Flamme was so close and was as desperate for her mate as Flambé was. Yanking several toys from the lower drawer, she stumbled back to the bed, knelt on the floor and turned on the Rabbit. She was already so slick.

  She found herself chanting Sevastyan’s name and forced herself to stop. This had to work. She bent over the side of the bed and the moment she did, her breasts pushed into the duvet, the material making her cry out, and then sob. She pushed the toy into her and held it tight against her clit, her knuckles against the mattress to help hold it in place.

  It was the biggest mistake of her life. A blaze of fiery agony shot through her and then pulsed and pulsed, refusing to relent even when she threw the toy across the room. Her leopard pushed closer to the surface and Flambé’s body contorted unexpectedly, her arms and legs joints cracking. Through it all, terrible sensations of electrical shocks snapped over her skin while lightning seemed to strike deep in her inflamed sex over and over, hitting hard, scoring deeper burns with each strike.

  She had to call him. She had to. She had no choice. Sevastyan and Shturm had to get to them and hopefully know what to do. She crawled blindly around the room on her hands and knees for a few minutes, tears making it impossible to see, while she searched for her cell phone. Thunder roared in her ears and chaos reigned in her head so it was impossible to think clearly. She couldn’t remember where it was. The sexual agony in her body didn’t let up for a moment as she hoped it would while she hunted along throughout the room on her hands and knees. Finally, out of sheer blind luck, she put her hand on it.

  She texted Sevastyan immediately. Need you now. You have to come.

  She waited, sweat pouring off her body. It seemed like hours, when she knew it wasn’t, while she waited. She just needed reassurance that he was there and that he’d hurry to her. That he wouldn’t waste any time. She’d never asked him for anything. He’d know. He’d come.

  What’s wrong?

  She blinked several times to try to bring the words into focus. It wasn’t what she expected, but then she didn’t really know what to expect. Two tears splashed onto her screen, turning it watery. She kept breathing, trying not to scream, trying not to rip at her own skin with her fingernails. The pain was excruciating.

  Flamme rising. I can’t stop her. You have to come. He would come. He would have to. If not for her, he would do it for his leopard. Shturm would never go without his female. She had felt the male’s possessive attitude so many times. His impatience. His demands. He had wanted Flamme to emerge, and when she hadn’t, he had been upset. Sevastyan would bring the male. They would come. Flambé rested her forehead on the floor, sobbing. Trying to control the terrible pain, trying to get on top of it.

  The wait seemed like forever again. Too long. It shouldn’t take that long for him to type On my way. Right? It shouldn’t. On her hands and knees, bottom in the air, she rocked her body back and forth. This was the worst. How did anyone survive? A heat could last seven days. Longer. Was it like this the entire time? She would never last. Never. Could one just take pills and knock themselves out? Why hadn’t she thought of that earlier and why wasn’t he answering her?

  Flambé, follow my instructions carefully. Get to the garage, to the Jeep and drive into the tunnel. You know where the entrance is. You have to get to me.

  She stared in horror at the instructions, not believing what she was seeing. He wanted her to go to Mitya’s home in her present state, desperate for sex, where every leopard on that odious man’s estate would know she was there for Sevastyan to service her? And if she would actually do that, which she wouldn’t, how could she possibly get there? He had no idea the state she was in. It was impossible. She couldn’t even see straight, let alone drive a car.

  She pressed her forehead harder into the floor. So much for believing that Sevastyan was going to ever choose her over his cousin. Why the hell did she think for one moment to believe any damn thing he said? Her body twisted. Contorted. She fell sideways onto the floor. The burn on her skin was unimaginable, unlike anything she’d ever felt. It had to stop. She had to find a way to make it stop.

  The image of two male leopards rose in her mind. They were downstairs in her house right now with no knowledge of what was happening in the master bedroom. If she went down to them, there would be no way they could resist her. No way their leopards could resist Flamme. Mitya had all but told them she was nothing but a sex object to Sevastyan, a toy. For all she knew, he had told them he shared her. He shared the women in the club.

  Flambé. Come to me right now. Use the tunnel. Stay in the tunnel.

  For one terrible moment, she was so desperate she actually considered the idea of going down to the leopards. If she was wrong about Sevastyan, he would kill them. If she wasn’t, she would never be able to
live with herself anyway. She had told him she would never go to his cousin’s home and she meant it. She wouldn’t prove him right about her either.

  So your cousin can have his laugh. Fuck you both.

  Grinding her teeth together, she crawled to the bed and gripped the post to pull herself back to her feet. It was impossible to think with chaos in her head, the terrible roaring and the blowtorch inside of her burning its way through her skin. She screamed and tore at own skin with her fingernails as the thing inside her lifted her skin over and over. She had to help Flamme get out or they both were going to die. Things crawled on her. Slithered over her. Licked at her. The sensations were so terrible she wanted to vomit.

  War going on. I can’t leave. Get to entrance of tunnel. I’ll meet you and take care of both of you.

  Flambé flung her phone away from her. She didn’t want anything more to do with him or his leopard. There was no way to get downstairs, let alone to the garage, or a car. And she’d never go to him now. Never.

  She would take Flamme and disappear the moment she knew Shanty and her children were safe. She just had to get through the next few hours. Find a place to ride it out. Find a way. A bath? Hot water? What would work? There had to be something. She just needed to use her brains. Tears blinded her, streamed down her face, and she wanted to claw at her eyes because they burned too. There were no more brains in her head. Her skull was on fire.

  She’d interviewed a lot of female shifters, but there had only been a total of thirteen female strawberry leopards who she had ever heard of prior to the recent find. Her mother had been one but she was dead before Flambé was born so that left twelve. Four of those women had died before Flambé was fifteen. Six, Flambé had helped disappear. Two worked for her and she kept a close eye on them. They had separate apartments in a secure building. They had their own money and her private cell number in case of emergencies.

  Flambé had smuggled seven other shifter women out from under the noses of their partners when they had called the emergency line for help. She’d been extremely careful. Everyone helping was putting their life on the line. More often than not, male leopards furious at losing their partner were in a killing frenzy when hunting for their “mate.”

  It didn’t seem to matter what species of shifter they were, what lair they came from, the males appeared to be abusive to their mates. She detested them all. Now she just detested everything shifter. She crawled around the floor, blind, sobbing, trying to take her own skin off her body while her leopard thrashed and clawed, desperate to break free.

  * * *

  * * *

  CURSING, Sevastyan turned and ran toward the front yard, calling into the phone for the snipers to take out teams two, three and four. He reiterated that all leopards with signature blue dots were theirs and not to be shot. Kill anything else. He was grateful that he’d had the foresight to call for help from his cousins, Elijah Lospostos and Drake Donovan, and even Joshua Tregre, all of whom sent teams of leopards to defend his cousin’s home.

  He glanced down at his cell as he ran and his steps faltered. Flambé. Calling him home. She’d never called him for anything. Not ever. He answered her fast as he stripped. Fuck. Her leopard was rising. He gave her hasty instructions.

  “How many coming at us, Ambroise?” he asked.

  “Looks like about fifty. They have the house surrounded.”

  The sniper rifles were sounding off, but leopards were shadows and they had made progress coming in behind the sacrifices, unseen for quite a distance. Sevastyan didn’t have time. He waited impatiently for Flambé to tell him she’d come. It wasn’t like he could send Kirill and Matvei after her. No male leopard could go near her.

  He stared down at her text, not believing his eyes when her answer came, but he should have known. He swore at the top of his lungs in his native language and then shifted on the run, trusting Ambroise to lock up after the leopards exited the house. No one could get inside. Even if they tried burning Mitya and Ania out, they couldn’t get to them.

  Sevastyan couldn’t think about Flambé and what was happening to her, not when vicious leopards invaded the property from every direction. They were coming at the house from the trees, across the rolling hills, the meadow, the paths in the woods, even the road in front of the house.

  “Coming up over the back fence to try for the roof,” Christophe reported.

  The leopards would find that a hard landing. Sevastyan had been prepared for them using the fences as a springboard to the rooftop of the house. The roof was ringed with hidden spears. As the cats landed on the sharpened points, they shrieked, the sound piercing the night. Their bellies were punctured, their bodies caught and held until one of the men on the rooftop turned and fired, putting them out of their misery, killing them.

  “Back patio, going for the fence and patio,” Christophe continued.

  The back patio seemed another good entry point. That was directly off the kitchen. The herb and vegetable gardens surrounded the patio where tables and chairs had a covered awning. Ania enjoyed sitting outside, especially in the mornings, with her coffee. Two leopards leapt onto the overhead covering and one clawed his way up the side of the column to the thick support beam, attempting to drag himself onto the roof from that angle.

  The awning ripped slightly, just a minute tear, but all three leopards dug their claws into the support beam. Their thick stiletto-like claws struck metal in the beam. The three dug deeper for a better purchase and a flash went off, a small explosion knocking them backward, blowing them apart, so that fur, bones, blood and muscle and sinew rained down.

  The first wave of leopards hit the front yard of the house, ten of them, coming in fast, males in their prime, scarred from numerous battles, confident in the knowledge that they were experienced. They expected their opponents, although mafia, to be from the city and easily overcome by their sheer numbers, not to mention weak, with few skills.

  Sevastyan had already spotted the commander of the team, a big bastard, golden coat with large fancy rosettes. He had allowed his men to sweep into the yard, running at the house to come at the porch as if they could somehow break down the doors or windows just with their sheer numbers. They were big leopards and maybe that tactic had worked for them in the past, but Rolan should have prepared them better for his opponent.

  Sevastyan’s leopards were either born in the same lair in Russia as he had been, or one of his uncle’s lairs. They’d trained as he had. If not in Russia, they’d been born and trained in the rain forests. All of his shifters were experienced fighters, skilled in every kind of battle with leopards or man. He would put his men or leopards up against Rolan’s anytime.

  Shturm shouldered a big brute of a male out of his way, furious that these leopards were keeping him from his mate, and rushed toward the commander. The golden leopard hadn’t yet spotted him. He was too busy stalking Zakhar. Zakhar’s leopard was never that far from Shturm. He was a big Amur, very distinctive with his thick white undercoat, and his dark rosettes so close together and so large that he looked as if he had a black top coat over the white undercoat. No one had a pelt like Zakhar. His leopard was simply named Istrebitel, meaning fighter.

  Had the golden leopard not been so confident, he might have been paying a little more attention to the scars in Istrebitel’s strange markings. Instead, he stalked the leopard, weaving in and out of the other combatants. Shturm went low to the ground, allowing two leopards who tried to ram into his sides to slam into each other hard while he slid between two fighting males, bringing him closer to his target.

  The golden male bunched his legs under him, readying for the charge, his eyes in a focused stare. Zakhar faced a younger male, one coming into his prime, eager for battle, already charging the larger Amur leopard, attempting to drive him off his feet. Shturm knew it was a ploy to keep Istrebitel’s attention on him in order for the golden leopard to leap on his b
ack and break his spine, delivering the killing bite quickly.

  At the last possible second, as the younger male came rushing in, Istrebitel leapt into the air, right over the top of him, whirling in midair to face the golden leopard who couldn’t stop his charge. Istrebitel landed hard on the younger male’s back, snapping the spine, just as the golden leopard’s intention toward him had been. The young male screamed, flopping to the ground, unable to rise.

  Istrebitel reared up, going onto his hind legs to meet the incoming charge of the golden leopard. Shturm charged from behind him, seizing one of the commander’s back legs and snapping it in two with a vicious bite. The golden leopard fell over backward. Istrebitel rushed in and bit down on the throat of the leopard while Shturm eviscerated him with one sharp claw and then left Zakhar to finish both leopards off while he went looking for other prey.

  It took time to kill all ten leopards and by that time, the next wave had swept into the side yard from the woods. Drake’s team was there to stop them, but security was Sevastyan’s job. He didn’t just simply hand it over to others. He shifted enough to get information.

  “Ambroise. Closest threat.”

  “Sneaking up on the garage. Two factions, looks close to twenty count. These leopards joined forces, coming in from your property and the meadow. They have someone directing them up on the hill just past the meadow out of my line of sight. He’s calling the shots.”

  Sevastyan snagged his phone as he hurried around the side of the house toward the garage. “Christophe, send me another team. We’ll need at least another five leopards, maybe more.”

  “Roger that,” Christophe said.

  There were no more messages from Flambé. He read the last one from her again. So your cousin can have his laugh. Fuck you both. Did she really believe that?