mates, those belonging together, will find each other over and over. They won’t tolerate any other mate during their life cycle. It would be impossible to be abusive. Surely you can see that Shturm wouldn’t harm Flamme and would protect her with his life. That means he would do the same for you.” He glanced at her in order to read her expression.
She had her chin propped up on the heel of her hand, her gaze on his face as he worked.
“I feel the same way about you. I told you that. I would never hurt you, nor would I allow anyone else to harm you. There was no mistake when Shturm and Flamme found each other. I was drawn to you and I think you were drawn to me, whether you want to insist it was all sex or not. Maybe for you it is, and that’s enough.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying not to feel the piercing ache in the region of his chest.
Flambé sat up straighter, the blanket slipping off one shoulder just a little more. “It’s not just about sex. I think you know that. You scare me. The things you make me feel scare me.” She sounded a little reluctant, cautious, almost shy, a characteristic he didn’t usually equate with her, but she didn’t find it easy to admit her emotions to him.
He poured the soup into two tall, thick mugs and made himself a quick sandwich while he thought over her soft confession. She clearly didn’t want to talk about how she felt. He was willing to let that go until he was in bed with her, or at least until they weren’t eating.
“Let’s take the food outside and you can tell me the rest about your underground railway for shifter women. It had to be very difficult to set up.” He poured genuine admiration into his voice.
She looked so relieved as she slid off the stool that he couldn’t help smiling. She left the blanket behind as they went out onto the back patio where the large awning shaded their bodies from the sun’s rays.
“I was fortunate in that there were several women already in place across the United States who had their own businesses,” Flambé said. She sipped at the mug of soup and shaded her eyes as she looked out toward the woods with long branches. “See how the branches reach toward one another and nearly touch? I kept looking at all the various trees that had been planted over the years for the shifters and how they were shaped. My father showed me how to work with them when we were molding and growing them on our property before transferring them to a client’s. That stuck in my mind. I flew to a city near each of the women and then rented a car and drove to their business and just talked with them. Visited.”
He could imagine his cautious Flambé doing just that. She was personable. Talking about her landscaping business, steering the conversation around to her mother. Listening to them about their past with her. She’d chosen women who hadn’t mated and preferred not to. She didn’t broach the subject of helping abused shifter women disappear immediately, but she did talk about how more and more she was seeing their women with nowhere to go.
“I could judge the level of sympathy,” she said. “And also, whether they were willing to do something about it. Or at least if I thought they could. I went back a second time to the ones I thought might be willing to help.”
“You would need a scent blocker so a leopard would never be able to catch your scent or be able to track their female’s.”
She nodded. “I’d heard rumors about a woman in New Orleans who was amazing with perfumes. Really amazing. I went to see her. I thought it possible she could come up with a product that could drown out our scents. I was very nervous talking to her at first. I told her I needed everything to be strictly confidential and she agreed. She was very sympathetic when I told her what I needed. She said she’d accidently come up with a scent blocker that worked on leopards, although it wasn’t perfect. She asked when I needed the product. I told her as soon as possible and she sent me a sample three weeks later. Within a month, I had something that has worked to perfection. So far, as long