they walked right up to Sevastyan and bowed slightly to him.
“I am Luan. This is my brother, Arno. We’ve come a long way to find this man and bring him to justice. He has committed many crimes against our people. He has brought disgrace to our lair. I ask that you allow us to administer the final justice to him. We have to answer to the elders and our lair.”
Matherson shook his head. “I stayed away from the lair. I didn’t go near any of the women.”
Sevastyan ignored him. Luan and Arno ignored him.
“It is important for the honor of our lair,” Arno continued, as if Matherson hadn’t interrupted his brother.
“Of course. I understand completely. We have plenty of cleanup to do, but the man has to go. He’s been stalking my woman,” Sevastyan said.
Luan nodded. “I am aware of his crimes.” For the first time he looked down at Matherson, his dark eyes settling on the man. There was no malice. No personal animosity. “You betrayed every sacred law of the lair, Franco Matherson.”
“I have money. So much,” Matherson cried, thinking to bribe them.
“You failed to protect and hold sacred our women or protect and treasure our children,” Arno intoned.
“You committed crimes against the outside world and humanity,” Luan continued.
“You hunted and killed others of our species knowing they were near extinction,” Arno added to the list of crimes.
“You risked exposing all of us to outsiders,” Luan said.
“You hunted and murdered other shifters, men and women, for the sole purpose of your pleasure. You have been sentenced by the elders of the lair to die as an abomination,” Arno pronounced.
There was no waiting. No hesitation. Luan plunged a sharp blade directly through Matherson’s throat while simultaneously Arno’s blade went through the man’s heart. Sevastyan regarded the open, shocked eyes as they stared, horrified and unbelieving that anyone would dare take his life. He had too much money. Too much power. People did what he ordered. He bought and sold people. No one would dare kill him.
“I heard his good friend Basil Andino disappeared recently,” Luan said matter-of-factly. He pulled his knife free and casually wiped blood from the ceremonial knife onto Matherson’s shirt. “He was last seen drinking in a bar with a young Russian woman. They left together and no one has seen either of them since.”
Sevastyan raised an eyebrow. “I thought Andino was a married man. What would he be doing in a bar with a woman?”
Luan nodded. “That is so. Perhaps the rumor is not true.” He bowed. “Thank you again. My lair owes you a favor.”
20
SEVASTYAN woke in the middle of the night the way he often did. The moon was high, a silver ball shining through the wall of glass, and stars scattered like diamonds across a dark sky. It was a perfect night. He turned his head to look down at the woman lying so still beside him.
Flambé rarely moved in her sleep. She always curled up, her bright red hair a splash of crimson against the black sheets. The artist in him loved that picture, the contrast of red and black. It was why he often used those colors of ropes on her.
She slept nude, the way he liked, and he was tempted to wake her. He would, but not yet. It was rare that he got the chance to touch her so gently, when her nerve endings allowed it, and he had taken full advantage. He’d made love to her as tenderly as possible the night before. Slowly. Making them both wait. His fingers threaded through hers. Looking into her eyes. Seeing into her heart. Her soul. Giving her his. God, but he loved her.
He began to untangle his body slowly from Flambé’s. He liked to sleep with his arm locked around her waist. One thigh over hers. Sometimes her breast cupped in his palm. His cheek on top of her head. He wrapped himself around her. He knew it was because oftentimes it still felt as if she had one foot out the door. She would suddenly, inexplicably withdraw from him, and he knew she was second-guessing herself, becoming fearful again. He had a fear that she might try to run and instinctively, he held her closer.
At first, whenever Flambé became afraid, Sevastyan would try to step up his tenderness, being thoughtful, making certain he spent more time with her and being more attentive. Over time, he realized those things backfired. She associated the niceties that shifters did for their