Leopard's Rage

by Christine Feehan

  Her fingernails dug into Sevastyan’s arm. She didn’t want to start crying again. It seemed as if she’d been crying for hours. Her head hurt, but that was because her skull felt too big, pushing and pushing, just like her jaw. Everything ached. Every joint. Every muscle. How did women do this? How did any shifter do it?

  “No one is going to euthanize you, Flambé,” Sevastyan said. His soothing voice was gone and his firm, commanding tone was very much in evidence. “Just relax and rest. I’m here, the doctor is going to give us both instructions and we’re going to get you through this. He does need you to answer a few questions. They’re very important and we might not have a lot of time. Try to concentrate, baby.” One hand began to massage her scalp.

  “Did you try the shots to help you with clotting?”

  Flambé turned her head toward the voice. She managed to pry her eyes open enough to see a man sitting across the room staring at a computer screen, not at her. The lights were off in the room, which helped considerably. “No, my father said they wouldn’t work. My mother had tried something like that and they didn’t work for her.”

  The doctor frowned and glanced up, shook his head and then typed more. “That was over twenty years ago. I think your father was wrong. I think you and any other strawberry leopards with this problem need to be tested and put on the shots if they are appropriate as soon as possible. I’ve given you pills to help with clotting now, and one shot. What are you taking?”

  “Iron.”

  “Have you heard of gene therapy?”

  “No.”

  “Simplified, we introduce a virus into your system, not the kind of virus that makes you sick, but one that introduces a copy of the gene that encodes for the clotting factor you’re missing. The hope would be that if it works for you, your body would begin producing your own clotting factor normally. I’d like you to provide me with a list of your clients who are hemophiliacs so we can get them into treatment as soon as possible.”

  “That can wait until we get Flambé through her heat, Doc. The most important person to me is her. I don’t like that she’s so fucking miserable and in pain.”

  Flambé was a little shocked at the intensity in Sevastyan’s voice. She flicked her gaze up quickly to look at the strong line of his jaw. That was the best she could do. Even her eyelashes seemed to hurt, although the water was definitely soothing on her skin. The heat helped her sore muscles. Whatever was in the water brought some semblance of peace to her burning sex. She wanted to stay there forever, locked in the safety of Sevastyan’s arms surrounded by that hot, soothing water.

  “We’ll get her through the heat.”

  “And I don’t want her pregnant. She’d not dying in childbirth. Until you get this bleeding thing under control permanently, and you can tell me she’s safe, she’s not going to have a baby. Hell, I’m wrapping her up in Bubble Wrap.”

  “Her leopard is in heat. Their cycles are in sync, Sevastyan,” the doctor said, his tone mild as he stared straight ahead at the monitor. “That’s why her leopard is emerging. Birth control doesn’t work on female leopards. She may or may not get pregnant. I’ve told you that already. There’s nothing you can do about that.”

  “I’d rather give her up than let something happen to her.”

  Flambé felt Sevastyan’s chin drop to the top of her head, nuzzling her there until strands of her hair were tangled in the shadow along his jaw. She closed her eyes against her reaction to the idea of Sevastyan voluntarily giving her up. It was ludicrous and so very silly of her to vacillate back and forth, but she wanted him to want her the way she wanted him.

  “Before you ask, condoms don’t work with your kind of sex,” the doc said. “You’d break them most of the time. We’ll just have to work fast to get her blood to clot.”

  “We won’t have sex,” Sevastyan declared. “I can live without it until you say it’s safe for her. I’m not losing her. I don’t have anything without her, doc. Nothing that means a damn thing, so figure this out.”

  “She’s in heat, Sevastyan, you’re going to have to have sex.” The doctor didn’t even look up. “Flambé, had the burning sensations been increasing prior to you noticing your leopard beginning to show herself or were they staying the same?”

  She had to pull her mind back to the questions the doctor was asking and off of Sevastyan’s declarations. She wanted to hold those to her, listen over and over to his tone, his voice, study the words, the way he said each one of them. She forced herself to think about the doctor’s questions. “It was pretty much the same.”

  “The sensations weren’t just in your vaginal region, but all over your body?”

  “All over.” She curled deeper into Sevastyan’s arms.

  “Interesting. This is a much rarer form of persistent genital arousal disorder. I’ve only seen this before in a few other shifters. As I said, it’s genetic. The nerves in your body form pathways and send signals to your brain. Harder pressure feels better than soft?”

  “Yes. If someone touches me when I’m like that, it burns so bad I can’t stand it. The tighter or harder the pressure, the better the feeling.”

  In spite of being in the soothing water, a wave of itching burned across her skin. Her breath caught in her throat. She recognized immediately what was going to happen. Throughout the night, the pattern had repeated itself until she had clawed at her own skin to try to remove it in an effort to allow her leopard freedom.

  “Sevastyan.” There was despair. Fear. No hiding it from him.

  “Her leopard is rising, Doc,” Sevastyan said, surging to his feet, Flambé cradled to his chest as if she weighed nothing at all. Water poured off both of them.

  The doctor closed his laptop and pointed toward a large bottle of lotion. “Rub that all over her. Rub it on your penis. That will help her with the burning sensations. You can get her through this, just remember everything I told you. The minute you get her back here, repeat all the same steps I’ve given to you. The pills, the shower, the bath, the lotion. Every time.” He lifted his hand as he started out of the room. “I’ll want to see her the minute you get her through this heat cycle so we can start working on the clotting problem.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” Sevastyan said as the doctor left them alone.

  Flambé had to hold on to the post of their bed to keep from falling when he set her on her feet. He patted her dry with a towel before he began to rub the lotion into her skin. He used firm, strong strokes, massaging it in. She expected the feel of his fingers on her coupled with the lotion itself to burn, but it actually felt good against the growing heat in her body. Deep inside her, a volcano was forming. Hot magma pooled all over again, welling up and spreading, to burn through her veins in a slow scorching well of fire.

  “Sevastyan.” His name came out a breathy moan. A plea for understanding. “I can’t go through that again. I tried. I did everything I could. I couldn’t even get down the stairs.”

  “I know you did, baby. I came upstairs and saw the smears of blood first thing when I walked through the door. My heart just about stopped. There was blood everywhere. For a minute, I thought you were dead.”

  His voice had gone strictly neutral. She couldn’t help looking up at his face. It didn’t do her any good. He was wearing his unreadable mask. In some ways that was a comfort. Sevastyan wore that mask when he became that man—the one she’d first seen at the club—the one who would insist on his way no matter what. She would need that man if she was really going to help Flamme emerge because she didn’t think she had the courage to face that kind of agony again.

  “According to Ania, the emergence is uncomfortable the first time for both you and your leopard. You’re in a highly sexual state. It isn’t just part of your condition, it really is a part of the emergence. I’m here with you. I can help you with that and Doc says this lotion will help with your nerve endings so they don’t burn quite as
much.”

  “What if I can’t do it?” There was apprehension in her voice.

  Sevastyan ignored her question. “I’ve sent everyone home. We’re the only ones here. We’re going to go downstairs and let Flamme come to the surface. Once she’s out, she can run free with Shturm so they can have their time together. When they come back, we’ll go through the steps the doctor gave us so when the next wave comes, we’ll be ready.” He spoke very matter-of-factly. Completely confident, as if there was no question that she could shift.

  “Sevastyan.” She repeated his name. Needing him to see how afraid she was.

  His hands were gentle on her waist and he turned her to face him. “Look at me, Flambé.”

  He used that voice, the one that brooked no argument. She wasn’t in his ropes but she might as well have been. She lifted her lashes and looked into his glittering, turquoise-over-icy-blue eyes. Once she looked into his eyes, there was no looking away. She was caught there as certainly as if he had tied her.

  “You will do this because you have no other choice. Flamme will die if you don’t get her out. If she dies, you die, and I’m not willing for that to happen. I will get you through this. Do you understand me?”

  She pressed her lips together and nodded.

  He leaned down and brushed a kiss over her mouth. A touch, no more, featherlight, but it was enough to remind her of all the times he’d touched her before he tied her, giving her courage. Telling her he was there for her. She was safe with him.

  “Get ready. You know what to do. You need to be prepared for a long session, but you only have a few minutes. Can you walk or should I carry you?”

  She managed to pull her gaze from his to look back to the bathroom. She doubted if she could manage and he’d drilled it into her that she always had to be honest with him before he tied her. She’d slipped into that space in her head. “I don’t think I can walk that far, Sevastyan.”

  He lifted her immediately and carried her straight to the bathroom, putting her down beside the perfect porcelain toilet. Any other time she might have been embarrassed, but she didn’t have that luxury. The heat inside was welling up, the volcano spewing that terrible hot lava into her belly and veins so that it spread fast, a wildfire out of control.

  Breathing through it, she did exactly what she had always done when Flambé knew she was going to be tied. She concentrated on how he might tie her. On preparing her mind, shedding herself, giving herself to him, letting go of all fears, giving them to him. He handed her the bottle and she took it, drinking down the cool water, feeling it flow over her throat. His hands were big. Sure. When the rope moved through his hands, it was always such an extension of him. He always wrapped her in him, tight. Secure. She handed him back the water bottle and turned toward the mirror, determined to do something with her hair, ensure it stayed up so not one single strand would touch her skin when the sensations worsened.

  A burst of flame between her legs nearly shattered her, and she tried not to cry out, not to make a sound, but suddenly her hunger for him was voracious. Her breasts felt too heavy, aching. Nipples on fire. Her hands involuntarily slid down her body, as the flames licked at her skin everywhere.

  Sevastyan caught her hands and brought them to his abdomen, stroking her palms over the heavy muscles there, lower. He curled her fingers around the girth of his cock. Her breath rushed out of her lungs. His cock was thick and long and already she could taste him in her mouth. The moment his shaft was in her palm and her fist had closed around him, he felt hot and heavy and so hers. Need and hunger rose so sharp and fast, an urgent demand that had her moving into him, her mouth watering, her gaze dropping to that beautiful crown where he was already leaking delicious pearly drops she needed desperately.

  “We’re going downstairs, Flambé.” Sevastyan’s voice was low. Velvet soft, sweeping over her body, fanning the flames. “I’m going to be carrying you and while I do, you think about my cock and nothing else. Not your body and what’s happening to it. That’s for me to think about. I take care of your body. You take care of mine.”

  He lifted her in his arms, once again cradling her close to his chest. She wanted to cry when she was forced to let go of his cock. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder as he carried her down the stairs, through the house and straight outside.

  She hadn’t thought he meant they would actually be going outside, where the cool night air would hit her body, fanning the flames even more. She breathed deep, trying to concentrate on Sevastyan. “I need your voice. Talk to me.” His voice steadied her. “Touch me the way you do when I’m in the ropes.”

  He set her down on the covered front porch, but near the corner where two supporting columns came together in a vee, making a small alcove. There was one on either side of the porch. He set her down, facing the railing so she could hold on to the beams if she felt weak. He stood directly in front of her.

  “Spread your legs, baby.”

  Her heart accelerated. Her body was so hot she thought she might spontaneously combust, but she did realize that the lotion, or maybe the bath, had helped. She wasn’t trying to rip her skin off, even though the terrible hunger was building and her skin felt as if one touch might make her go insane if she couldn’t have sex immediately. Her hips wouldn’t stop moving, no matter how hard she tried to keep them still. The moment she spread her legs, the cool air hit her clit and her sex screamed at her.

  He sat up on the railing, casually circling his cock with his fist. “I’m going to touch you, get your body used to the feel of my hands on you. There’s no way to fuck you, Flambé, the way you need to be fucked without my hands and mouth all over you.” His voice was the one he used when he expected obedience. His dominant voice. The one she always responded to, and now, more than ever, she desperately needed it.

  “You are going to think about nothing else but pleasing me. Taking care of me. Not yourself. This isn’t about you. I’m the most important thing in your world. You want me to feel the most pleasure you’ve ever given me. That’s all that’s going to be in your head. Anything else comes in, you push it out. Do you understand me?”

  Her gaze was riveted to his fist, that casual slide as he pumped up and down, and those little white drops that made her mouth water. Her entire body shook with need. The idea of his hands touching her skin was terrifying to her, but at the same time, she needed his cock. In her mouth. Inside her. Everywhere. She was going to die if the fire inside burned any hotter, and it had just started.

  Sevastyan reached out in his abrupt way, grasped her hair and pulled her close, almost making her lose her balance. It was the same firm, decisive movement he used when tying her hands. It got her attention instantly. He didn’t let loose of her hair, but instead, tilted her head back more.

  “I asked you a question.”

  She touched her tongue to her lips. “Yes. I understand. I’ll try.”

  “I don’t expect you to try, Flambé. I expect you to do it.” There was no give in him. “We are going to succeed.”

  She nodded and stared into his eyes. He could mesmerize her with his eyes. He had no idea the control he had over her with his eyes and his voice. Or maybe he did. His touch. The confident way the rope slid through his hands. When she watched that, she knew she associated the rope with him. That he wrapped her with himself when he wrapped her with that rope. She wanted him—wanted that same feeling of safety she got in the ropes when she was outside of the knots when she was with him. She needed it now more than ever.

  She leaned into him and let her hands shape his thighs, feel his muscles. He sat with his thighs apart. He always was so casual about nudity. Most shifters were. He was particularly beautiful to her and she needed to get her mind right, to put him first so she wouldn’t jump back when she accidently brushed her nipple against his leg as she leaned to close.

  He covered her breast with
his palm and she had to smother a cry as flames shot straight to her sex. Deep inside that volcano grew hotter, sending thick rivers of molten lava running through her veins to every part of her body, igniting bundles of nerve endings. He left his hand over her breast while the other stayed in her hair. Both hands felt aggressive, rough, the touch possessive, not at all light or tentative. Her body reacted with flaring heat, but less pain.

  “I want your mouth on me, Flambé.”

  She licked up his inner thigh and then over and around his velvety balls before complying, getting him wet, running her tongue up and down that thick shaft. Teasing under his crown, running along the thick vein and back down to the base. She licked at the drops that instantly tasted like an aphrodisiac, sucking at them and swallowed them down, eager for more, before she slowly engulfed that broad head.

  Sevastyan took a deep controlling breath and removed his hand very carefully from between his leg and her breast, murmuring soothingly to her as he did so. He kept his voice steady, disciplined, the voice he used when tying, knowing she responded to that best. Just that movement would send streaks of fire darting from her nipple to her clit. He felt her body flinch and her mouth clamp down around his cock as she did her best to ignore the sensations building.

  Quickly, he tore out the scrunchie she’d haphazardly put her hair up with and gathered the mass tighter, twisting it quickly, braiding it partially so it would stay higher and off her skin, even if they got wild, which there was no question would happen. Once he had it up, he put the scrunchie back in, securing the mass even tighter than she’d had it to make sure it wouldn’t fall. It wasn’t an easy task when her mouth was surrounding him with such heat.

  He stroked her shoulders, using rougher touches. He’d noticed before the kinds of brushes on her skin that heightened her pleasure or could confuse her body, bringing her too close to pain to make the touch truly pleasurable. He might be a dominant, and he preferred erotic bondage and intense play, but not if it hurt her. The moment she said it hurt, he would stop and they would never repeat the act again. She needed firm, not light, and he massaged her arms and shoulders, her neck, digging his fingers into her muscles as if he owned her.