Leopard's Rage (Leopard People)

by Christine Feehan

  “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 thi
ck 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.

  He caressed the sides of her breasts with firm strokes of his knuckles and then his fist. She nearly swallowed him whole. Her gaze jumped to his for reassurance. He let his eyes do the talking, knowing his showed his dark lust for her. He felt her mouth grow hotter, nearly scorching him. Her hips rocked. Beneath her skin something moved aggressively and liquid formed in her eyes.

  “I’ve got you, baby,” he reassured. “We’re there. She’s close.”

  He continued to move his hands over her body, a slow assault, touching her in all the places he knew she loved the most, every touch a heavy stroke of ownership, concentrating on her, not on the sensations she was creating in him, for him, nearly driving him insane. He traced her ribs and then traced under her breasts before forcing himself to remove his cock from her mouth, although it was one of the most difficult things he had ever done. He felt like he might shatter, he was so hard. He caught up the bottle of lotion he’d had the presence of mind to bring and poured it into his palm to lather over his aching cock.

  “Sevastyan.” Flambé’s body trembled and she reached out to him, the expression of terror and lust on her face breaking his heart.

  Slipping from the railing, he crouched down, his hands on her thighs, fingers digging deep, loving her the only way he could tell her. Taking care of her. Showing her she wasn’t alone and whatever she needed, no matter what it was, he could find a way to be that for her. He stroked his tongue up her thigh. She felt so delicate. Her entire body shuddered. Her hands clamped down on his shoulders. He was careful to go slow when she tried to force fast.

  He knew she felt desperate, but fast wasn’t good for her—not yet. She needed a slow assault so her body could accept his. He had to use the utmost care in every touch when her body was this sensitive. The lotion and balm the doc had given them would only go so far to calm her nerves. The shots he gave her for clotting and hopefully, again, to help with her hypersensitive nerves, wouldn’t last forever. He was the one who had to learn her body and how to touch her to relieve the burn. He was an expert when it came to reading her and she mattered that much to him. He would take it slow and keep his touch as firm as possible to get her body ready for his.

  She didn’t have to love him back. He probably wouldn’t know what to do with it if she did. No one ever had. He had the feeling she hadn’t ever felt loved. That was going to change. He knew he loved her. He didn’t know when or how it started, it just crept up on him, but he wasn’t going to let her feel alone. She would always know she could count on him.

  Tying was a personal art. He had to know every subtle sign his model gave him. He’d always been extremely careful of every person he’d tied, but Flambé was more than just a rope model to him, she had become his world. Her nails bit into his shoulders and she cried out as he nipped at her inner thigh and murmured soothingly, letting her feel the warmth of his breath against the sensitive nerves bursting like fire beneath her delicate lips and inflamed clit.

  “I’ve got you, baby, you have to trust that I’ll get you through this.”

  He repeated the mantra over and over between kisses and licks. Between lapping more aggressively and settling his mouth over her slick heat and finally devouring the addicting spice, that combination of cinnamon, cloves, a hint of coriander and jasmine that was all Flambé. That combination along with the spicy hormones she was throwing off were beginning to make him feel as desperate as she was, but he forced his body under control, ignoring the thunder roaring in his head and the fire pounding through his veins.

  Flambé’s breath was ragged, hitching, frantic. “Please, please, please. Sevastyan. I need you right now.”

  Sevastyan stood up slowly, forcing himself to take his time, giving her that steady control, wanting her to see that no matter how far she spun out of control, he was always there for her, calm when he had to be. He could be completely counted on. Disciplined when there could be none. He studied her face for a long minute, tipping her chin up to his while his gaze drifted over her, making certain she was all right and her body could accept his.

  His hands went to her waist, testing, lifting her, sitting her on the railing, spreading her thighs apart so he could stand between them. “Clean my face, baby.”

  Beyond frantic, Flambé leaned forward, her tongue licking at the liquid on his jaws while he cupped the weight of her breasts in his palms, his thumbs sliding over her nipples, carefully watching her face. Before she would have screamed in agony; now, she seemed to move into his hands, finding pleasure, not pain. He tugged on her left nipple hard, pinching down, experimenting. Sex could get wild, savage even, definitely brutal. He wanted to see if she could handle his touch when they would get real with their bonding sex.

  She threw her head back, crying out again, but the sound was one of need, not pain. Her little whisper of Sevastyan sent hot blood pounding through his cock. All the time taken in preparation seemed to have worked. Her body responded. Instead of wanting to claw her own skin off, she wanted him inside her, wanted his hands and mouth on her.

  He kissed his way down the line of her throat, teeth nipping while she wrapped her legs tight around his waist, trying to press her slick sex tight against him. He held her while he kissed her mouth, over and over, letting the flames take them both higher and higher. Kissing her was literally like igniting alcohol, turning them both to living flames. Her name was very apropos. Kissing her was very much like lighting a match to a stick of dynamite. She moved him every time. Intimate. Sensual. Darkly lustful. Damn-right sexy. All Flambé.

  He kissed his way down her throat, his teeth nipping, tongue easing the sting. Her hips rocked against his abs. Her sex was hotter than hell so that his cock pulsed and jerked, rubbing between their bodies. Locking her to him with one hand to keep her from falling off the railing, he drew her left breast into his mouth and sucked hard, pulling strongly. With his free hand, he tugged and rolled her right nipple. With every tug he felt the answering liquid heat pressing hot against his abs as she ground herself against him.

  He used his teeth on her left nipple and then pressed it to the roof of his mouth before marking her breast to his satisfaction and then switching to her right breast. She gasped, her arms cradling his head to her, holding him close, watching him feed, crying out as he went from gentle to rough and back again. All the while her body moved frantically against his in an effort to relieve the desperate burning.


  Sevastyan caught at her waist again and she dropped her legs so she could stand, although she was trembling. “Put your hands on the lower rails,” he instructed. He was already positioning her hands, turning her away from him, pushing her head down, bending her at the waist.

  Flambé was nearly sobbing. “Hurry, Sevastyan. I can barely stand it.” She pushed back with her hips.

  “Widen your legs.” He kept his voice calm, in control, commanding, when all he wanted to do was bury himself deep and lose himself in her. He didn’t want her to panic at the last moment.

  Shturm was so close, a monstrous presence, waiting to break free at the first opportunity to claim his mate. That meant Flamme was equally as close. Flambé had to be petrified when her first experience of trying to get the leopard out had been pure agony. Sevastyan could only hope that he’d adequately prepared her body.

  Flambé followed his instructions immediately, just as she did when she was tied. He stroked his hand down her hair to reassure her. He slid his hand down the nape of her neck and then her spine to steady her before he lodged the broad head of his cock in that hot, slick entrance. She was so hot she felt like she might burn him alive. When he looked down at them, it seemed impossible for her little body to take him inside her. He was never certain she could take him, and he knew she felt the same way, especially when he pushed into her and she gasped, her breath catching in her lungs.

  That first slow breach, as her body swallowed the sensitive crown of his cock, devouring him, taking him in, surrounding him with her silken fire, was like nothing he’d ever encountered. That first entry, when she was so tight, was impossible to tell for either one of them whether it was ecstasy or agony. But there was no way he could stop. No way she wanted him to stop.