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)
Sevastyan was built the way many shifters were, with roped muscles and no fat. He was taller than most with wide shoulders and a thick, defined chest, narrow hips and muscular legs. He kept his cat in fighting form, which meant he was as well. He ran every day and let his cat out to run. He practiced with weapons daily and trained in hand-to-hand combat. He left nothing to chance when it came to Mitya’s safety.
The cat leapt again, clawing for freedom, and Sevastyan turned toward the door. Shturm was being a little too persistent, which could only mean they weren’t alone. Maybe the landscaper hadn’t blown him off entirely, maybe she was just late. Not a good start, but at least she’d managed to get her ass here. He’d make it very clear he didn’t tolerate that kind of crap from those he employed unless there was a very good excuse, in which case she should have let him know immediately.
Sevastyan took his time getting to the door, deliberately slowing his steps, breathing deep to find that calm place he maintained in front of all others. His weapons were close, as they always were, so many tucked into his boots, the holster under his arm, the slim sheath between his shoulder blades, the many loops inside the jacket he shrugged into as he paused just at the door.
A woman hurried up the walkway, looking surprisingly young for being the owner of a renowned landscaping business. Sevastyan knew Leland Carver had passed away several years earlier, leaving the business to his daughter. Flambé Carver had grown up working alongside her father, and some said she had surpassed him in brilliance for her designs in incorporating the natural topography, flora and fauna into beautiful and unique works of art.
Leland Carver was a shifter, and he had designed the woods with their arboreal highways for the leopards to travel quickly throughout Mitya’s property. It was the same on their cousin Fyodor’s property. Carver had also land-scaped and planted that property with fast-growing trees. Sevastyan wanted the same on his property. Part of the land had already been planted, but he wanted his property connected to his cousin’s so he could travel fast without a car to get to Mitya, should there be need.
The woman hurrying up the walkway had the smaller, curvy body of a shifter, although she was much smaller than many of the women, and she had shocking red hair. Sheets of bright red hair, which he’d never seen on a shifter before. It wasn’t dyed red; it looked too natural for that. The sun shone on it, turning it into a fiery blaze that spilled in all directions. She had it pulled up into a simple ponytail, but in her haste, in spite of the thickness of shifter hair, it had come loose and was pulling free, giving her the appearance of looking wild.
Sevastyan found the dominant rising like a tidal wave, strong, taking over, needing to tame that out-of-control woman rushing up his walkway, late by nearly half an hour to a very important appointment she’d already cancelled twice. He let her get right to the door and push the doorbell not once, but twice, with several long moments between before he took his time leisurely opening the heavy oak door to stand framed there just looking at her.
There was a long silence. She was breathing hard as if she’d been running a long distance. Just because she came from a line of shifters didn’t mean she had a leopard, or that she knew she was a shifter. Men had their leopards nearly from the time they were born, where as women often weren’t aware of their leopards until the leopard and the woman both had the same hormone cycle. Sometimes that never happened and the leopard never emerged. Still, most shifters were in good shape, and she shouldn’t be so out of breath.
He studied her deliberately, drawing out the silence. She had unusual eyes, green with golden flecks, and he recognized the eyes of a female leopard immediately. He also became aware of Shturm’s reaction to the woman. It was an easing of tension out of the big cat. The claws seemed to retract slowly and he simply went quiet, almost as if, like Sevastyan, he was observing the woman instead of reacting negatively toward her.
Shturm hated all humans and let his human counterpart know at every opportunity. It was rare for him to go quiet, and that alone kept Sevastyan from saying anything to dispel the rising tension between the woman and himself—not that he wanted to. She needed to take responsibility for his time away from Mitya. His job as his cousin’s bodyguard was important.
Looking down at her red-gold-tipped lashes that had swept down to veil the expression in her green eyes, a curious emotion gripped him, one he couldn’t recognize. She had a generous mouth, beautiful lips, very red, although there was a smudge of dirt near the corner on the left side he could barely keep from leaning down to wipe away with the pad of his thumb.