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.
Sevastyan scooped her off the bed and carried her into the bathroom once the tub was filled. He’d added bath salts to the water to help heal any soreness. She curled into his chest, feeling lightweight, almost insubstantial to him. There were rope marks on her body as well as marks from his mouth and hands. She had skin that displayed his artwork beautifully. Someday, he’d take pictures of her body after he removed the ropes as well as with the various ties on.
“Sevastyan.” His name came out a husky protest as he sat down in the tub, her body between his legs, the hot water nearly to her neck. “It’s too hot.”
“It’s good for you.” He caught her chin and pulled her head back against his shoulder so he could wash her face. “Keep your eyes closed. I like your face all shiny with my seed, baby, but you might not like it as much as I do.”
Flambé reached back over her shoulder and wrapped her arm around his neck. It was the first real spontaneous gesture of affection she’d ever made toward him that wasn’t sexual since his leopard had claimed hers. He knew she’d done it because she was half asleep, but he’d take what he could get. He was very gentle as he washed her face. She fell asleep as he held her, just soaking her body, letting the salts have time to do their work.
The moment he began to soap her body, it didn’t matter how gentle he was, he could see how sensitive her skin was, particularly now that hormones were raging. If she always had trouble with her nerve endings so close, the merging of the leopard and human cycles had worsened the effects. Her body shuddered with every touch no matter how careful or impersonal he was. He forced himself to use stronger, harder strokes, even though it went against everything he wanted to do, and she quieted.
When he washed between her legs she cried out and turned her face into his shoulder, biting down hard with her teeth, not realizing she was biting him. He murmured to her soothingly and finished, wrapping her once in a towel rather than trying to dry her off, and then putting her in bed and letting her air-dry.
He checked the butterfly bandages and then pressed a kiss into the middle of her back before heading downstairs to the kitchen.
12
SEVASTYAN poured Flambé a cup of coffee. “Tell me about your father. You don’t really talk about him that much.”
He kept his gaze fixed on her face. She was dressed in loose-fitting casual clothes. Nothing sexy about a pair of soft cotton, dark navy pants and a thin cotton ombré top, but for some reason he found her sexier than ever. Her face was devoid of all makeup and her hair was shiny clean, piled high on her head in that messy knot she favored. He knew it was to keep it off her