Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 145729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Her fingers tightened around his, and his heart clenched hard in his chest. He turned his head to look down at her. “You really are afraid of me.” He caught her chin and tipped her head up, forcing her to look into his eyes. “I would never hurt you. Shifters mate for life. For life. I recognized you the moment I saw you. I knew we belonged. I knew I was born to protect you. To make you happy. To love you, Sonia, like no one in this world has ever been loved. Your leopard can hear the truth, so can you. Am I telling you the truth?”
She didn’t have a poker face. Every thought moving through her mind was there on her face and in her eyes for him to see. Fear was uppermost. She wanted to believe him because she heard honesty, but she couldn’t quite make herself get there.
“Give me a chance.” He switched tactics. “Get to know me. Take the time.”
“If it’s just sex, I won’t get my heart broken.”
He knew that admission cost her with all it gave away. “Words don’t matter as much as actions. Give me the chance to show you I mean what I say when I tell you, for me, there isn’t going to be another woman.” He led her through to the great room. It was spacious and beautiful, again, not fully renovated.
“How?”
His heart steadied. She wasn’t going to fight him. He needed that reassurance as much as his leopard did.
“We’ll go out. Meet together after work. I’ll tell you my crazy life and you can tell yours…” He broke off when she shook her head.
“I can’t tell you mine.”
“Or won’t?”
“I can’t.”
He was silent as they went up the stairs. She had scraped the years of neglect from the stairs, but hadn’t finished them. As in his home, they were on the narrow side, but they were functional, large enough for a man to step without worrying his foot wasn’t going to fit.
“That implies you think it would be too dangerous for me to know. Look into Drake Donovan’s security team. He’s considered the best in the world. We’re called on to go into places others wouldn’t even consider. You know I’m leopard. Unless…” He pulled open a door and peered into an empty room. “Unless the trouble is with other leopards.” He kept his voice casual, not wanting to spook her.
He moved from that room straight into the next. This one had long windows just like the first, with glass doors that led to the balcony. She’d replaced the old windows with new ones, floor to ceiling, and the doors were French doors, the windowpanes big squares. The middle room was her studio. It made sense, it got the most light and overlooked the largest part of the swamp. From her vantage point she could see the river and the canopy of trees in the distance.
He flicked on the light, knowing this room was a big part of her world. Of who she was. If he wanted to get to know her, he had to see her through her choices of what she painted. He would be able to see the world through her eyes. How she saw things, what she chose to paint.
He wandered around the room, looking at the canvases. She had one she’d set aside, off from the others, and that was the one he chose to study. Most were of the swamp, but this one was different. The colors were different. Subdued. Not the vibrant colors of the trees and bushes she’d painted from her balcony, looking out over the land she obviously loved.
This was of a cemetery. Looking at it, one got the feeling of loneliness, sorrow, even a hint of anger. There were beautiful tombstones all around the plot she’d chosen to focus on. Light streaked through the grays of the morning sun. He stepped closer to see the markings on the graves. There were two crosses, but no name.
He glanced over at Sonia. She held herself very still, fingers twisting together until her hands were white. He reached out and covered them with his own, stilling the motion. “Your parents? This one is very personal, yet the graves aren’t marked.”
“Both were cremated. I scattered their ashes. I painted that for me.” Her voice was strained.
He found the concept interesting. She’d cremated her parents, which was good considering one or both had to be leopard, but she depicted them together in a cemetery. The cemetery she’d chosen was obviously real and had been painted from memory. “Will you let me buy one of your paintings?”
He tugged on her hand until she went with him to stand in front of the one he most admired. It was brilliant. He knew the exact spot. He’d visited it a hundred times. There was his swamp in the dripping Spanish moss, fringed lace draped through the cypress forest. Knobby knees of the cypress trees rose from the water where duckweed floated and cranes walked in elegance and grace.