Leopard's Rage (Leopard People)

by Christine Feehan

  Her lashes fluttered but she didn’t quite open her eyes. When he was certain he was able, he walked across the room to the small bar and retrieved a bottle of cold water for her. He took his time, looking casual as he returned to gently lift her head and hold the bottle to her lips.

  “What did you think, malen’koye plamya? Is that something you like? Would you want to do it again in a different way? I wanted to distract you the first time to see if you would enjoy it. Your body seemed to, but sometimes the head doesn’t always agree with the body.” He brushed a kiss over her temple. Kept it tender. Loving even. He felt tender and loving toward her, but he knew he had to be careful of giving her too many of those gestures when she didn’t want them from him.

  She drank slowly, letting the cool water trickle over her throat. He was a big man and her throat had to be sore. The water had to feel good. When she turned her face away from the bottle, he lowered her head back down over the chair. She wasn’t finished and she would expect him to insist they finish their ritual. He stepped close to give her access, drinking from the same bottle, resting one hand on the ropes as he leaned toward her mouth.

  Her tongue felt exquisite as she lapped at him. There was nothing so decadent as his woman taking care of him in the early-morning hours after the blow job of the century. Her face was smeared with his seed when she finished, and she looked disheveled and well used.

  Again, he needed a minute to get himself under control and he spent it looking at her, assessing her. Thanking the universe that she was in it with him. Her tight red curls were wet and gleaming with their combined sex and when he opened the privacy screen they glistened along with her thighs. He picked up the camera and slowly walked around her, taking shots from every angle.

  “You do look beautiful, Flambé. I want to have a book of my ties with you as my model. The ropes always look so good against your skin.” Deliberately he moved close to take a picture of her spread legs. “And you react so beautifully to erotic bondage.”

  “I know you’re not going to show those to anyone.” She said it, but there was the smallest hint of doubt in her voice. Her voice was husky.

  He turned away from her, putting the camera down so he could pull the knots loose. He was always careful not to leave her tied too long. She was building up her stamina, but she wasn’t ready to stay for any prolonged period of time. He checked her pulse and her hands, legs, arms and feet for warmth and then pulled her onto his lap to rock her gently.

  “Woman, I’ve told you a million times, I don’t share.” He nuzzled the top of her head. “We both need a shower and then you can show me what you’ve been working on for our garden. I’ve got a few ideas I want to talk to you about so you can keep them in mind when you’re designing.”

  She cuddled into him the way she did after he tied her. It was the only time he got that from her and he savored every second he had with her. She felt small and fragile to him, when now that he knew her, he was well aware that wasn’t the truth at all.

  “There’s going to be so much room, Sevastyan. Almost too much. I think we’re going to have to do this in sections, otherwise it will be too overwhelming.” Her voice was very low, husky, and she sounded distracted. Still very much on edge.

  “That’s what you said when I wanted to build up the little wooded area to a much larger forest.” He rubbed his chin again over the top of her hair.

  Sevastyan massaged Flambé’s arms and breasts, a firm rub that was very sensual, circling her nipples and then moving his fingers down to her belly to massage there as well. She was still experiencing little ripples, aftershocks that shook her. He could feel them moving through her body and his massage added to the sensations. He wanted to keep those sensations going, just for a little while longer.

  She moaned and turned her head into his chest, spreading her legs for him as he pushed his fist against her wet, inflamed pussy, his knuckles rubbing. She pressed down tight, riding his knuckles as he continued the massage, his teeth biting her shoulder, tongue soothing, then teeth stinging again.

  Shturm, keep talking to your female. I want you to coax her to the surface. You are going to reclaim her, just in case, for some reason, she didn’t understand the first time what that meant. She’s young and it’s her first cycle. We need to know if she realizes you are her mate.

  Sevastyan very gently pulled his fist out from between Flambé’s legs. She made a low sound of protest and tried to catch at his wrist to hold his knuckles in place there. He nuzzled her bare neck again, and then wrapped his arms around her tight, his hands cupping her breasts, thumbs sliding over her nipples. He bit down on her shoulder, his teeth sinking into her delicate skin. She cried out and rocked her hips, sliding one leg over his thigh, trying to find a way to ease the terrible building pressure between her legs.

  The male leopard pushed at him, rubbing close to the surface. The female was close, unable to resist with Flambé in such a highly sexual state. She stretched and rolled, flirting outrageously with Shturm. She pressed against Flambé and made it known that she wanted out soon. That she wanted her mate.

  Be gentle, Shturm. Make it count. Don’t make a mistake. Clearly, she’s in her first life cycle and doesn’t know what she’s doing. If you want her and you’re absolutely certain she’s your mate, you claim her and let her know no other male is going to take what’s ours. That we’ll fight to the death for them. She didn’t get that the first time around.

  Holding Flambé tight, Sevastyan shifted just his head and allowed the male leopard to take that form.

  Hurry, Sevastyan hissed to the cat, knowing Flambé was too weak to stop the female from responding if she had been doing so, but he didn’t like her in need without meeting that need. Not when it was so acute.

  Shturm didn’t waste time. He sank his teeth into the back of Flambé’s shoulder, calling to the female, sending her reassurance that he was strong and fierce and that no other male could defeat him. That he would fight for her and defend her. That his claim on her would always stand. No other male would ever harm her or Flambé. His human was as fierce and protective as he was and would take equal care of Flambé.

  The female rose to him, touching the edges of his teeth, accepting the claim for the second time. She stayed close this time, pressing toward the male, assuring him with images that he was her choice.

  Ask her why she is taking so long to emerge. Sevastyan kept his arms tight around Flambé, locking her to him, his large hands completely covering her breasts, her nipples pressing deep into his palms. He rolled his wrists so that the massage was subtle, but kept pressure on those twin points of flame. Her hips rocked and bucked against his thigh.

  Flambé fears you. Shturm shifted, giving back the form, retreating to allow Sevastyan to process the answer the female leopard had given the male in stark images. She holds Flamme back.

  Sevastyan dipped his head low to kiss the wounds on Flambé’s shoulder, wondering why Flambé would be afraid of him. What she would fear. She didn’t fear being tied in the rope when she was the most vulnerable. That was when she was the most honest of all.

  “I love that you’re so sensitive,” he whispered, his thumb sliding over her nipple. “When I clamp you, you shudder with pleasure. Your entire body responds.”

  “I don’t, not all the time. Sometimes the smallest sensation and I burn. I know that’s why I need sex all the time. Even fabric against my skin can make me start to burn. It’s the worst. Or my hair falling down my back, which is why I try to wear it up all the time.”

  She was giving him all kinds of ammunition, things he could use to help her, but things, when they were playing erotic Kinbaku together, he could use to add to her sexual needs. He slid one hand lower, to her belly, massaged there while his other played with her breast. He understood now why she liked rough. Why she responded to a rougher touch and not a gentle one.

  “Sometimes if I wear a thong, the types of lace between my cheeks will start to rub and then this fire starts bui
lding until I need something or someone to put it out. I don’t understand why I’m like this. I tried to talk to other strawberry leopards, the females, but they didn’t want to talk about it. They would burst into tears and turn away, so my guess is we’re all the same. It has to be our skin, our nerve endings too close to the surface or something.”

  She pressed her hand over her other breast and rocked her hips harder. When that didn’t help, she tried to close her legs as if she could rub her thighs together, but he had her on his lap and he kept his legs wide, preventing her from getting relief that way. His hand slid lower, massaging her mound, his knuckles dipping low to rub her wet lips and then back up to trail through her tight curls.

  “I need sex all the time.” There was a small sob in her voice and she pressed her face tight against his chest.

  “You’ve got me now, Flambé. You don’t have to go to bars every night, or try to find someone to help you out during the day. I just happen to have a voracious sex drive, as you well know. We were meant to be.” He let a ghost of a smile creep into his tone.

  Her hand slid down his arm to grasp his wrist. Once again, she tried to push his fist between her legs. He didn’t let her. Instead, he put his mouth against her ear. “Tell me what you want, malen’koye plamya.”

  Her entire body trembled. “You know that’s so hard for me. To ask for anything sexual.”

  “You weren’t listening properly, baby, and if you were in the ropes, you would be waiting a long time before you’d get relief, but you’re in a terrible state so I’ll let you figure it out. Think about what I said to you.” He had made it a command. In the bedroom, he commanded.

  She hesitated. “I still need your cock, Sevastyan.”

  It was a whisper, in that husky voice that reminded him of his cock down her throat. Every time he heard her speak in that tone, images and feelings immediately rose of the spectacular fireworks she’d produced in his body. There was no one like Flambé. No other match for him.

  Her head tilted back and her eyes filled with dark lust, somewhere between gold and green. His cock was already aware with the cats so close and both females throwing off enough hormones to bring every leopard snarling and fighting for a mate within a hundred miles running to them. Still, he waited.

  Her tongue moistened her dry lips. His seed was all over her face, shiny, beginning to dry. She was a mess but sexy as hell to a shifter who needed a woman willing to have the kind of dirty sex he needed. He was voracious in his appetites and kinks. He wanted one woman but he wanted her devoted to him. Willing to indulge him.

  “Please.”

  His heart felt as if a vise squeezed it hard. “You need me, baby, you know I’m yours.” Very gently, his hands went to her waist and he lifted and turned her so her body faced his. “Straddle me.”

  Blood from Shturm’s puncture wounds still trickled down her shoulders, but she hadn’t even seemed to notice that he’d reclaimed the female, or that part of her extreme sensitivity was due to her cat being close. She wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock and held him steady as she slowly sank down, sheathing him in her tight folds. She threw her head back as her burning folds engulfed him.

  He wanted to do a little head throwing of his own. She was pure scorching fire. The look on her face, a kind of ecstasy, only added to the beauty as she rode him, sliding over his cock, her muscles squeezing tight. He caught her hips and slowed her down, not allowing the frantic pace she tried to set.

  “Shh, baby, relax, take it slow and easy,” he coaxed, setting the rhythm. Her body was a silken sheath, so scorching hot, grabbing at him with greedy fingers and squeezing down over and over as she pumped her sexy pussy over his cock.

  Her breasts jolted and swayed invitingly with every movement of her body, dancing for him as she ground down, her breath coming in panting sobs. Deliberately, he slid one hand up from her hip to her breast and flicked her taut nipple. She gasped as if he’d held a flame to it. He pinched and tugged and then ran his finger from her breast slowly down her belly straight to where their bodies came together.

  “Look at us, baby. Look at the way you take me inside you.”

  He circled her clit and then flicked it just as he had her nipple. She cried out and clamped down hard with her muscles around his cock—rode him harder, breaking the slow rhythm. He pinched, using his finger and thumb, holding her little inflamed clit hostage while he pumped into her, surging with his hips and then suddenly letting her go so the blood flowed back. She cried out again as he gently flicked and teased the inflamed bud, while she pressed down harder into him, her muscles like a vise.

  “One day I’m going to do a tie with clamps on your nipples and clit, malen’koye plamya. I’ll have you dripping with jewels and rope both. You always look so damn sexy.” Sevastyan slid his hands up her hips to her waist, holding her, needing to hold her. Wishing he could find a way to reach her other than through sex. He was willing to take what he could get, but she was perfect. So damn perfect.

  The roaring started. Thunder in his ears. He felt the volcano in him, that deep dark well of savage, red-molten rage that only Flambé seemed to be able to tame. Even if it was for a short while, a small respite, she still managed. The sounds she made told him she was close. He recognized every little sign of Flambé’s needs, every tiny nuance, expression, moan of pleasure, sob of desire or lust, her body language, he knew all of that and yet nothing of her. Nothing of his woman.

  He caught her close and held her heart to heart as her body clamped down hard on his and the tidal wave took her, took them together. She dropped her head on his chest, her arms sliding around his neck in absolute exhaustion. He could feel her heart beating, surrounding his cock, the same rhythm against his chest. If the emotion welling up in him was actually love, he wouldn’t have been surprised. It was stark, raw, overwhelming. And all for her.

  He buried his face in the silky mess of her hair, taking advantage while he could. It wouldn’t last. She didn’t want him. He got that. Even Mitya got that. He was so angry with Mitya taking it out on him, but the truth was still the same. She didn’t want him. He would have to face that soon.

  She had completely collapsed into him, breathing raggedly, her face pressed against his chest, eyes closed tightly. He kept his arms around her, holding her close to him, their hearts beating hard. He was leopard and he could hear them both hammering out of control. His began to settle first. He opened his eyes to look down at her, just to drink her in while she wasn’t paying attention.

  Flambé was at her most vulnerable in the ropes, during sex and right after. Those were the only times he felt he had the real woman. The rest of the time she was so elusive he was certain she was moving just out of his reach, always one step ahead of him. He was very intelligent and used to being the smartest man in the room, even if few others were aware of it. To have Flambé always eluding him was both intriguing and disconcerting.

  A flash of red caught his eye and he tightened his hold on her and sat straighter to look over her shoulder. She was bleeding from the puncture wounds. His heart jumped.

  Shturm. How deep did you bite?

  Not too deep. You said to make certain my claim was established and I did.

  Sevastyan cursed silently. He had said that. Did you close the wounds with your saliva? He couldn’t remember if the male cat had licked the bites or not. He had the first time, but they’d been shallow punctures. These, clearly, were deeper.

  No, she was distressed and I shifted.

  What had he read about her mother dying in childbirth? She’d hemorrhaged. He’d had Ania do some investigating for him and several of the strawberry leopards had died from hemorrhaging. This was a careless mistake. He took a deep breath, refusing to panic. He stood up, lifting her off of him and into his arms, taking her to the bed and laying her facedown. She barely moved she was so exhausted.

  Shturm, you’re going to clean those wounds. Shift now. Sevastyan was in no mood to take any bullshit from his leo
pard. Be gentle with her.

  For once the cat obeyed without giving him any lip. Shturm lapped at the puncture wounds, and then shifted again. Sevastyan hurriedly yanked the first-aid kit from behind the bar where he’d stashed it. He cleaned the bite marks thoroughly, noting that even with the cat cleaning them they were still bleeding. It wasn’t a lot of blood, but enough that it told him she would have trouble if she really got a deep cut—or she had a baby. He wasn’t like so many others of his species—he wasn’t all about having children to save the shifters.

  He tried butterfly bandages and waited to see if they would stop the flow of blood. If that didn’t work, he would put a stitch in each of the bites. He was also contacting the doctor immediately. He wasn’t taking chances with her.

  “Sevastyan?” Flambé’s voice was husky. Drowsy.

  “Shh baby, just lie still.”

  “I need to clean up.”

  “I’ll get you cleaned up in a few minutes. I’m admiring my handiwork. The ropes looked good on your skin.” He smoothed his hand over her thigh where the marks from the ropes were still faint.

  She didn’t respond. The butterfly bandages were holding. Relief spread through him. He contemplated the perils of landscaping and how many ways she could cut herself while working as he ran a hot bath for the two of them. He’d given the cook and housecleaners the day off as well so after he bathed her, he’d put her back to bed and he’d fix brunch while she slept. That would give him time to try to figure out why she was afraid of him.

  She never acted afraid of him. It would stand to reason that if she was, she wouldn’t let him tie her. She would never trust him the way she had that morning. Nothing about the situation made any sense.