to her skin. He smelled it in the silk of her hair and he knew when he tasted her, the flavor of the cinnamon and cloves would be there forever on his tongue. Just the thought brought an ache to his cock.
He found her just inside the open door of the closet. That made him want to smile. He didn’t. Had she been awake, he might have reprimanded her. In a fire, he would have needed to know where she was. For now, looking down at her face as she lay curled up like a sleepy little kitten, barely making a shadow beneath the blankets she had covering her, his heart turned over. She was getting to him in a big way.
The dim light that recessed into the eaves of the ceiling when the door was open shone down, providing just enough of a glow to spotlight her. Flambé had taken a shower and her hair was still damp. She had braided the thick mass, so the braid was a dark red, a splash of color against the black pillowcase. In her sleep, and without makeup, she looked younger than she did awake. Her eyebrows were red-gold just the way her lashes were.
She was a true redhead, with a smattering of freckles on her face and across her arms. She was obviously careful to cover her skin when she worked in the sun, although he thought that being leopard should provide some protection from the bombardment from the sun’s rays. Her hands were small, her wrists narrow. He would have to take that into consideration. He wanted to touch her skin, feel her to see if she felt as soft as she looked, but he had other things to do this night, like make certain she was safe— and send a very strong message to Franco Matherson.
It would do Matherson good to look him up. To see what kind of family he came from. A man like Franco would immediately want to run to Sevastyan’s father, try to get the bratya to do his dirty work for him, because in spite of the man’s arrogance, he would be afraid. Once he learned who he was really dealing with, what kind of shifter Sevastyan was and what kind of leopard he possessed, Matherson wouldn’t want to come at him fairly.
In the meantime, Sevastyan would be taking out his pawns one by one.
4
FLAMBÉ lay looking up at the ceiling, her heart pounding. She was in the same house with Sevastyan Amurov. What had her female leopard done? She had wanted this, but not permanently. She’d been so out of it. So scared. The attack. The blow to the head. Flamme rising, taking control.
It wasn’t like she could blame her leopard. She’d been fantasizing over Sevastyan Amurov for months. Who knew his leopard would be the biggest, baddest brute on the planet, ready to fight for a mate? Of course Flamme would try to find someone to protect them. It wasn’t her fault.
On top of everything else, Flambé had been sexually aroused for the last couple of weeks before Flamme’s sudden appearance. Her skin had been crawling with need. She should have picked someone up and taken the edge off, but she’d been trying to find a way to meet Sevastyan. She’d had her sights set on him.
She was insane to think she could really be with a man like him—hold his interest for more than five minutes. He was—extraordinary. She had watched him for so long. He hadn’t once seen her. Not a single time. Why would he? She’d been a little mouse hiding in the shadows, too timid to ask for what she wanted. What she needed. She always felt she had too much to lose. More, she had too much to protect.
The first time she’d ever laid eyes on Sevastyan she’d known he was the one she needed. He was intimidating in the most delicious way. Totally sexual when she didn’t find most men in the least bit hot. Just looking at him from a distance made her go damp. Weak. She knew she shouldn’t be all about sex with him, but she was desperate for real relief.
She needed sex nearly all the time but she was never satisfied. Never. Then she saw him and nearly had an orgasm from just looking. She wasn’t about to ignore the miracle of feeling true chemistry. Still, nothing was supposed to be permanent. She didn’t do permanent. She didn’t want it or need