He never saw empathy as a sign of weakness. Evangeline, his cousin’s wife, had that trait in abundance. Sevastyan was drawn to Flambé because she had that characteristic in her nature.
“The pregnancy was very difficult on my mother and she was weak when she had me. There was a huge blood loss. Both my father and the doctor knew she wasn’t going to live. My father insisted that she wanted me more than anything, that she considered me her greatest gift to him.”
She gave him another smile, but this one was sad. “I’m not so certain of that. I really hate that she lost her life giving me mine.”
“That wasn’t your fault, Flambé,” Sevastyan pointed out.
Matherson was at the door, pounding with his fist. It sounded like his men were taking a battering ram to it. He hoped so. He hoped the recording would show the damage so he could sue them. There might not be evidence against Matherson for his assault on Flambé, but everything he did at Sevastyan’s house would be on the security tapes.
“Yes, I know. They say it is a myth that redheads are prone to bleeding, and maybe it is just our species, but apparently, we have lost many of our women in childbirth due to blood loss. That was what happened to my mother.”
Sevastyan was taking note of that. Flambé had the thick hair that marked the leopard species, but it was as bright red as could be. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she was a natural redhead and between her legs would be red curls. Her leopard would be strawberry. There was no taking chances with his woman. If they were going to have children, a surrogate could carry them, not Flambé. That would be a discussion for the far future, not for now.
“And your name?” He prompted again, because the door banging was really loud and twice her gaze had jumped in that direction. “How did you come by it?”
His hand moved on her thigh, fingers running up and down just as hers were doing, pressing deep, soothing the raw nerve endings. He stroked caresses upward, every now and then moving his fingers toward the inside of her thigh. Just one deep brush then another. Close to the heat and then back to the surface, distracting her from the door.
“My hair was thick and red and about an inch long. My father said I looked wild. Eyes too big for my face and hair as red as flames. My mother looked up at him and smiled. She said one word. Flambé. He told me he wasn’t certain if she wanted me named that, but after she passed, he couldn’t think of another name that meant fire or flame that would honor her as well. So Flambé was what it was.”
“I like it,” Sevastyan said. “It suits you.” He touched her hair. It felt like silk. He was going to have to move back away from her. Fortunately for both of them, her leopard was subsiding, giving them a respite. He hoped that once her female retreated, Flambé wasn’t going to try to change her mind.
“Stay here, plamya,” he said, calling her flame. He stood, towering over her, his body very close to her. Too close. The moment he stood he was all too aware of exactly the position of his cock and her mouth. Sometimes he detested that he was such a sexual dominant. It was stamped into his bones, so much a part of him.
Sevastyan stepped away from her and caught up his forgotten water bottle so he could make his way leisurely to the window. He angled himself so he was fully visible to Matherson and his men as he stood watching them as if they were circus animals and he was enjoying a show. He waited until they were fully aware of him and had stopped their furious pounding and battering on the door, which they clearly weren’t going to get through. He opened the intercom.
“Gentlemen, I suggest you leave the property immediately.”
“Before you call the police?” Franco sneered. “You coward.”
Sevastyan smiled and took a long drink of the cool water. “I prefer not to involve the police. I think when grown men act like children throwing tantrums they need to be treated like children.”
He reached down to the long row of buttons hidden just below the windowsill, activating several. Water gushed out in long pulsing streams like firemen’s hoses, coming from the eaves of the