Total pages in book: 172
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Walking back to face her across the room, where she could see him, he leaned against the wall, looking casual, taking a slow drink of water, studying her. Just looking at her could make his heart accelerate, the air move through his lungs faster. All that red hair, bright like the sun, those eyes that were green or gold by turns, depending upon her mood, but it was the little things he’d learned about her that moved him the most.
“You told me you saw me first at the club and you were drawn to me. I saw you when you were talking to one of the workers on the property. A curvy, obviously shifter woman with dark blonde hair. She was hunched over and looked like she was upset. I was a good distance away and I couldn’t hear what you said to her, or read your lips because you were turned at an angle, but your body language was very protective.”
He didn’t take his gaze from her as he talked and he could read the subtle difference in her. She had stiffened slightly, was holding herself very still, waiting.
“You crouched down beside her, put your arm around her and talked to her for a long time. You weren’t in the least bit caring of time passing or being on the clock. You made certain that she was taken care of. I know that your business means everything to you. Your customers matter and those plants matter. That woman mattered to you more. I thought you were the most extraordinary woman I’d ever seen in my life.”
He kept his gaze on her. That mattered to her. She didn’t want his opinion of her to affect her, but it did. She didn’t want to believe in him, but she heard truth, as did Flamme. She didn’t want to rely on her leopard’s senses, but they were there and she couldn’t help but draw on them.
“I can’t help what I am. My father, Rolan, was a vor in the bratya. The lair was fucked-up, and he was cruel and enjoyed the power of hurting others every chance he got. His older brother, Lazar, was Mitya’s father and controlled a much larger lair. He was also a vor with a worse reputation, much deserved. It turns out, Lazar, not Rolan, was actually my father. While my mother, Tatiana, was pregnant with me, Lazar delighted in tormenting and terrifying her, saying that he would tell Rolan so he would beat her to death. He didn’t, of course, because that would end his fun.”
Unexpected emotion welled up. It came out of nowhere and hit him hard. He turned away from her and took another drink of cool water, let it slide down his throat to soothe him. He’d been alone all of his life. He reminded himself he didn’t need anyone and he didn’t need what he’d never had. He waited until he was absolutely certain his voice was under complete control before he paced back in front of her with those same deliberate steps he’d used to walk away.
“Lazar tormented both his wife and my mother, and eventually, when he thought Rolan was too close to me and I was getting to the point I might be able to aid his brother, he told Rolan the truth. Rolan murdered my mother and proceeded to make my life and Shturm’s life as miserable as he possibly could. I was beaten daily until Shturm couldn’t take it and he would emerge and Rolan would let his leopard loose on him. When Rolan wasn’t attacking us, Lazar was. They both despised us. Rolan despised Mitya as well and vowed to kill him.”
He once more went to her, needing to touch her. She was compassionate. He didn’t want her pity. He could see that now in her expressive eyes. That look wouldn’t be there in another minute, but right now, while she was still looking at him with something close to caring, he was going to touch her again.
First, he slid his arms around her to fit his hands over hers to ensure she wasn’t cold and hadn’t lost any feeling. He slipped his fingers through the ropes to check that none of the strands put any pressure on her skin. Very gently he allowed the pads of his fingers to skim down her belly to her mound. Next, he caught the ropes of her harness to tug her close. Her breasts were a temptation impossible to resist. So beautiful. So feminine. That was Flambé. All woman and willing to give herself to him when she was in his ropes.
Sevastyan settled his mouth over her right breast, flicking her nipple with his tongue, his free hand feeding her to him. She was warm and soft and sensual, her body arching into him, even though there was little play in the ropes and nowhere for her to go. She still moved into him, making little delicious moans around the bit in her mouth. Abruptly, he pulled back. As much as he wanted her, he couldn’t fall into her trap and make this about sex. If he was going to clear the air between them, he had to get her on board.