Leopard's Rage
Praise for Christine Feehan’s Leopard Novels
“Punctuated with plenty of danger and delicious tension. . . . A wild ride with a sizzling, passionate romance at its heart.”
—BookPage
“A really steamy, can’t-catch-your-breath romance.”
—Fresh Fiction
“The premise is raw and gritty; the romance is spirited and provocative; the characters are flawed, colorful and energetic.”
—The Reading Café
“Heart-stopping action. Crazy sexy-time scenes. Tender emotions. . . . [A] little bit of something for everyone who enjoys a solid paranormal romance.”
—Harlequin Junkie
“With a Feehan novel you know you will get well-developed characters and an engaging plot, so when you add a dose of sizzling sexuality, you have an unbeatable mix.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A bloody good time.”
—I Smell Sheep
“Heady, passionate, seductive. . . . Ms. Feehan does a fantastic job of building up to the climax for a smashing finale that leaves you breathless and satisfied.”
—Smexy Books
“Readers . . . will be seduced by this erotic adventure.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Another wild ride. . . . Enter the lair of the shapeshifters.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“A passionate, jam-packed adventure.”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
“The passion runs high and the sex is hot!”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“Sizzling and exciting. . . . Surprises erupt at every turn.”
—Fresh Fiction
“A phenomenal story. . . . Christine Feehan knows how to weave a tale of action, suspense and paranormal passion that has earned her so many fans and keeps bringing new ones.”
—Romance Junkies
Titles by Christine Feehan
The GhostWalker Novels
LETHAL GAME
Toxic Game
Covert Game
Power Game
Spider Game
Viper Game
Samurai Game
Ruthless Game
Street Game
Murder Game
Predatory Game
Deadly Game
Conspiracy Game
Night Game
Mind Game
Shadow Game
The Drake Sisters Novels
Hidden Currents
Turbulent Sea
Safe Harbor
Dangerous Tides
Oceans of Fire
The Leopard Novels
Leopard’s Rage
Leopard’s Wrath
Leopard’s Run
Leopard’s Blood
Leopard’s Fury
Wild Cat
Cat’s Lair
Leopard’s Prey
Savage Nature
Wild Fire
Burning Wild
Wild Rain
The Sea Haven/Sisters of the Heart Novels
Bound Together
Fire Bound
Earth Bound
Air Bound
Spirit Bound
Water Bound
The Shadow Riders Novels
SHADOW FLIGHT
Shadow Warrior
Shadow Keeper
Shadow Reaper
Shadow Rider
The Torpedo Ink Novels
DESOLATION ROAD
VENDETTA ROAD
Vengeance Road
Judgment Road
The Carpathian Novels
DARK SONG
Dark Illusion
Dark Sentinel
Dark Legacy
Dark Carousel
Dark Promises
Dark Ghost
Dark Blood
Dark Wolf
Dark Lycan
Dark Storm
Dark Predator
Dark Peril
Dark Slayer
Dark Curse
Dark Hunger
Dark Possession
Dark Celebration
Dark Demon
Dark Secret
Dark Destiny
Dark Melody
Dark Symphony
Dark Guardian
Dark Legend
Dark Fire
Dark Challenge
Dark Magic
Dark Gold
Dark Desire
Dark Prince
Anthologies
Edge of Darkness
(with Maggie Shayne and Lori Herter)
Darkest at Dawn
(includes Dark Hunger and Dark Secret)
Sea Storm
(includes Magic in the Wind and Oceans of Fire)
Fever
(includes The Awakening and Wild Rain)
Fantasy
(with Emma Holly, Sabrina Jeffries, and Elda Minger)
Lover Beware
(with Fiona Brand, Katherine Sutcliffe, and Eileen Wilks)
Hot Blooded
(with Maggie Shayne, Emma Holly, and Angela Knight)
Specials
Dark Crime
The Awakening
Dark Hunger
Magic in the Wind
A JOVE BOOK
Published by Berkley
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
penguinrandomhouse.com
Copyright © 2020 by Christine Feehan
Excerpt from Reckless Road copyright © 2020 by Christine Feehan
Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.
A JOVE BOOK, BERKLEY, and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Ebook ISBN: 9780593099858
First Edition: November 2020
Cover art by Marta Bevacqua/Trevillion
Cover design by Mumatz Mustafa
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Cover
Praise for Christine Feehan
Titles by Christine Feehan
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
For My Readers
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Cha
pter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Excerpt from RECKLESS ROAD
About the Author
For Adaiah,
this one’s for you.
For My Readers
Be sure to go to http://www.christinefeehan.com/members/ to sign up for my private book announcement list and download the free ebook of Dark Desserts. Join my community and get firsthand news, enter the book discussions, ask your questions and chat with me. Please feel free to email me at Christine @christinefeehan.com. I would love to hear from you.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Brian for getting me through this one. It was a tough go, but we did it! Thank you, Domini, for always editing, no matter how many times I ask you to go over the same book before we send it for additional editing.
1
SEVASTYAN Amurov paced back and forth with long, angry strides, trying to rid his body of the dark, ugly, animalistic, moody edge his leopard brought along with his own bad temper. Over the years, he’d worked at staying in complete control. He’d succeeded in preventing that hot red volcano welling up inside him from showing itself to the outside world, but he’d never managed to eliminate the vile emotion. He knew he never would.
He was leopard. Not just any leopard. He was Amurov, born and bred in a brutal lair known for cruelty, for such savage practices that other lairs wanted nothing to do with them. He couldn’t blame them. The men in his lair took women to be their mates—not the women who held the mate for the leopards—but women who would give them sons. If they produced females or after they gave them sons, to show their loyalty to their lair, the men murdered their wives, usually in front of their sons. Often, they insisted their sons participate. Female children were either killed or given away or sold as brides to others who would later kill them after they produced sons for their husbands.
Sevastyan had been beaten most of his childhood, as had his leopard, in an attempt to make him stronger—a fighter for his lair. He was raised to be an “enforcer.” One who would be a bodyguard to the vor, or the one who would interrogate a prisoner for information. As he had grown up, that horrendous anger inside of him had grown, fed by his leopard’s rage.
His leopard was very strong and controlling him wasn’t easy. As the years had passed, unlike his cousins, his need for sex and domination had grown, not diminished. His leopard prowled closer and closer to the surface, demanding more and more, and those needs had turned sexual for him. It was a vicious cycle and one Sevastyan feared he was going to lose eventually. He often visited the underground clubs to ease the needs he had, but that was always dangerous when his leopard was so brutal. He had to be very careful that he didn’t allow any of the cruelty of his cat to spill over to his games with the women he played with.
Glancing at his watch for the tenth time, he hissed his displeasure. The woman from the landscaping company had blown him off. Again. That was three times. The first two times, at least she’d had the courtesy to let him know she couldn’t make it. It was an inconvenience, but she’d given him enough time that he hadn’t left Mitya, his cousin and boss, without protection.
He was Mitya’s bodyguard. Mitya had enough enemies that Sevastyan wasn’t about to take chances with his life. Already he’d been shot more than once, and leaving his protection to others didn’t sit well with Sevastyan.
Like always, when he was very upset, the anger in him translated to a deep sexual need that he despised. It rose up like a tidal wave, a hunger that took hold of him and wouldn’t let go until he rode a woman hard—and what was the difference between him and the other men in the lair he’d left so long ago? He despised himself for using women, no matter that they were fully consenting. He might visit the clubs and spend hours there doing the things he needed to do, but he was never sated. Never. His leopard roared his rage and deep inside, he did as well.
The truth was, Sevastyan wanted a woman of his own. A partner. A woman to love. A woman who held the mate for his leopard. That same gift his cousins had. He doubted if that was going to ever happen for him. His father and Mitya’s father both had seen to that with their torture and deviant training. His needs weren’t going to go away because he willed them to. Long weeks of trying. Months. Nothing had stopped that terrible craving. Nor would his rage. He had watched his cousins to see if they were like him. None of them were. Mitya was dominant, but he wasn’t in the least like Sevastyan. Still, his leopard deserved a mate.
He had one thing going for them. His leopard—and he—were in their first life cycle. That meant they could claim an unmated female shifter. They just had to find one.
Deep inside, his leopard snarled and raked at him with sharp claws, leaping suddenly in an attempt to take him by surprise and get out. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last. Sometimes, Sevastyan thought his leopard, whom he affectionally called Shturm, meaning assault, would end his life by literally ripping him open and climbing out of him rather than shifting the normal way they exchanged forms.
“I’m having enough trouble staying in control without you adding to my problems,” he hissed in displeasure at the cat, raking his fingers through his hair, uncaring that it went wild on him. He was normally groomed to perfection, as part of his intimidating look.
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 landscaped 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 l
ike 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.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she started. Her tone was soft. Pleasing. There was no remorse, but her voice did tremble the least little bit.