Leopard's Run Read online

  Her fingers were in his hair immediately, stroking those small caresses he found he was beginning to live for. It made no sense that she could take over his life so fast, and yet she had. He forced air through his lungs and looked up at her.

  “Baby, you have to know the truth before you make your decision. I’m exactly that man. The one they send to fuck up others. Or to kill them. I made my first kill at eight years old and, believe me, that was two years too late. My father despised me because I didn’t want to kill people. He beat me until I couldn’t stand up, until he could force my leopard out of my control so he could have his leopard deliver a beating to him that was so severe, at times I thought they’d broken his back. I learned to be that killer, Ashe, the one you’re looking for.”

  She stepped back and then knelt between his legs, her hands framing his face. “You’re not that man, Timur.”

  Her voice, so gentle, turned his heart over. He met her eyes, wanting her to see the real him, not the fantasy she had in her head.

  “Only you could look into my eyes and tell me something like that,” he said. “I am. I know what I am and I know how I got to be this person. Had I had a chance, I might have been different. God knows, I wanted to be different. You get fed violence and blood your entire life, and it shapes you into something dark and ugly.”

  “Timur, you’re breaking my heart. Do you really believe that of yourself? They tortured my parents. They murdered them for no real reason.”

  “I torture and kill when I have to.”

  “Why would anyone have to?”

  “To protect the people he loves.”

  “The men torturing and killing my parents did so not because my parents were a threat to anyone they loved, but simply because someone ordered it. If Fyodor asked you to kill innocent people, would you do it?”

  “Fyodor would never ask such a thing of me. He’s a good man, Ashe.”

  “He has to be or he wouldn’t have Evangeline.”

  She leaned into him and brushed kisses over his eyelids and then his nose. Her lips felt cool on his skin. Her touch had his heart stuttering in his chest. She could twist his insides into little knots just by smiling at him. Add in her touch, and then her kisses, and he was lost.

  “I don’t know what’s true or not, Ashe, only that I want to be with you. I’ll try to be a better man for you, the one that I might have been before my father decided to twist me into something ugly.”

  Her mouth touched the corner of his and then pressed against his lips. He opened for her and her tongue swept inside. At once the temperature in the room went up several degrees. His mouth moved, following wherever she led. It didn’t take long before he took over. He cursed himself for that trait, always having to be the one in control, but that was his nature. He kissed her thoroughly, hoping she understood what he was trying to convey.

  When he lifted his head to look down at her, those amber eyes stared back at him solemnly. She wasn’t giving him promises and he appreciated that she didn’t try to lie to him.

  “I don’t want you to have to be the man your father forced on you. Find your own way, Timur and the heck with him.”

  “He’s dead. I don’t worry about what he thinks or feels. I have uncles who want us dead, but that isn’t my biggest worry. I have a woman, stubborn as hell, and I would prefer her to tell me straight up she was staying, but she can’t do that right now. So until she can, I’m going to be a little out of whack.”

  She burst out laughing. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means we’re shelving this conversation until I make you dinner. You have to be starving.”

  8

  ASHE perched on a high-backed barstool in her kitchen to watch Timur work. He was silent while he chopped vegetables, but he worked with a calm efficiency that told her he was very comfortable in a kitchen. She loved watching him. It was strange to feel as if she’d always known him. Already, she wasn’t certain she could leave even if she really wanted to. She felt at peace when she was close to him.

  He wore a pair of gray sweatpants with a black racing stripe down each leg. He’d pulled on a black tee that stretched across his chest, one tight enough that she reaped the benefits, watching his muscles ripple with every movement.

  “What was your mother like, Timur?” The moment she asked the question, she knew it was a mistake.

  Timur stiffened and seemed to concentrate even more on chopping up the vegetables. “She was fragile. She knew my father was going to murder her one day. All the women in the lair knew their husbands would kill them.”

  “Why didn’t they run?”

  His dark lashes flicked up and she found herself staring into his ice-blue eyes. “They knew they couldn’t go far enough. They’d have been run to the ground.”

  “Maybe, but at least they would have had a chance. Why didn’t they ban together and fight back? If I thought you were going to kill me eventually …”

  “After you gave me sons.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, although it was a waste. He was back to chopping vegetables and tossing them into a wok where small pieces of steak had already been seared. She loved watching him when he cooked. He seemed to relax more. “Okay, especially after I gave you sons. I’d wait until you were asleep, and then I’d shoot you. I wouldn’t miss either. If I used a silencer, I could go around to all the other houses and shoot my friends’ husbands.”

  A slow smile curved the hard edges of his mouth and her heart nearly stopped beating. He was gorgeous when he smiled.

  “Bloodthirsty little thing. I’m keeping all weapons out of your reach. Of course, I have no intention of doing in my woman, even though I’m more than certain you’re going to piss me off royally very often.”

  She took a snap pea and waved it at him. “Where did these groceries come from?”

  “The store.” He grinned down at the last of vegetables, scooping them up and tossing them neatly into the wok.

  “I don’t own a wok either.”

  “No, this is mine. I looked at your pots and pans, baby, and I can assure you, they’re all shit. Completely. I have liberated them.”

  “What does that mean?” She didn’t really care what it meant, she had no interest in pots and pans. It was just that she wanted to keep him talking. She loved to hear the sound of his voice, especially in this mood, where there was near-laughter in him. He was so adorable standing there, slathering butter on sourdough bread, his hair falling in his face making him look younger. Then there were those eyelashes. So dark, like his hair.

  “I threw them out and I sent Jeremiah to the grocery store. I threatened to beat him to a bloody pulp if he forgot one thing on my list or if he deviated in any way. I double-checked the groceries, and he got everything I asked for.”

  “Now you have perfect strangers bringing groceries into my house.”

  “You were working. So was I, and believe me, there is nothing perfect about Jeremiah. We needed a little help and Jeremiah needs a little guidance. He’s too enthusiastic and has very little patience. I don’t want the kid to get in over his head before he’s ready. Pulling him off main assignments to do a few errands bugs the hell out of him, but it keeps him from getting too bored and screwing up.”

  “I see. By letting him come into my home, without my permission, by the way, you’re saving this kid’s life.” His reasoning eluded her, but she wasn’t going to get too worked up because one of his men brought them food. “And the clothes you’re wearing? Where did they come from?”

  He shrugged, his wide shoulders rolling, drawing attention to his very muscular chest. “Packed a duffel bag before I left my brother’s house. I told you I was going to stay with you.”

  “You are so pushy, Timur. What if I don’t want you staying here?”

  He put the bread in the oven, and then tossed the vegetables around in the wok before looking at the rice cooker. “Doesn’t matter. I’m keeping you safe.”

  “You just want sex.”

>   Those blue eyes went from ice to flame. Fingers of desire crept down her spine. She couldn’t help her reaction to the intensity of that look.

  “All the time. In fact, come over here.” He pointed to a spot right in front of him.

  There was the counter between them, but she knew she wasn’t safe, not when he had that look in his eyes. “We’re talking.”

  “You talk. I’ve got other plans.” He pointed to the spot again.

  “You’re making me very nervous. What kind of plans?”

  “Baby, I’m not asking. I want you to walk around the counter and come right over here to me. Since when did you decide you were a little chicken?”

  Since he got that look on his face, but she wasn’t going to tell him that out loud. She slipped off the barstool, not really understanding why, but she was helpless to do anything but obey him. Excitement had her blood rushing through her veins and her heart beating wildly. That was it. All of it. He made her feel alive. Every second she was with him, no matter the emotion, she felt intensely alive.

  Ashe moved around the center island and stood right in front of him, so close she had to tilt her head to look up at him.

  “You wearing panties?”

  “Of course, I am.” The tone of his voice had her heart thudding even harder. Her sex clenched and those panties were instantly damp.

  “You shouldn’t be. Once we’re home, you don’t need them, Ashe.” He held out his hand, palm up.

  “We’re in the kitchen, and I’m all about hygiene,” she protested. But even though she was protesting, her thumbs looped in her lacy little boy shorts and she peeled them off, wadded them up and put them in his palm. Now she was just in her old T-shirt.

  He stuffed the panties into his pocket and caught her around the waist, lifting her right onto the very edge of the counter. Her heart went into overdrive.

  “I’m hungry, baby, and looking for a snack before dinner. Don’t have a lot of time, so this will have to do, right here. And I claimed the fucking kitchen after one look at those poor excuses for pots and pans you had. That means I get to make up the rules in here, not you.”

  One hand pressed on her belly, urging her to lie back. She complied, watching his face, watching those blue flames darken with lust. The look on his face, those sensual lines carved deep, sent a fresh wave of hot liquid slicking her sheath in readiness. He caught her thighs and pulled them apart, lifting her legs over his shoulders. Then he just paused and looked at her. There. Breathing warm air over her. Just staring, as if in wonder.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Ashe.”

  She tried not to squirm. “I’m glad you think so.”

  “I’ve never had this. Not a single moment like this one. Thank you for giving it to me.”

  She didn’t know what that meant. She couldn’t imagine any woman turning him down. He was so sexual. Intense. He focused completely and solely on her. He gave her all the things a woman would feel, heady pleasure rushing over her, when she was with him. Each time he touched her, their connection seemed to grow. Had it only been about their leopards, she knew she never would have entertained the idea of staying with him. Or trying in a relationship she knew would be challenging.

  Timur was a difficult man. He would want to boss her. Rule her. She wasn’t that type of woman—or at least she didn’t think she was. She liked figuring things out for herself—mostly. She had to admit, she felt safe when Timur was close, and she hadn’t had that luxury in a long while. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be him. To have a mistreated leopard that was out for blood and demanded it day and night.

  “Timur.” She whispered his name. Knowing she shouldn’t. Unable to help herself. She waited until his blue eyes lifted to hers. “You’re not a psychopath, nor are you what your father tried to shape you into. You’re … extraordinary.”

  She thought he was. He gave up everything for his brother. He didn’t leave, he couldn’t leave Fyodor and Evangeline to their fates. He felt responsible for them and he sacrificed for them, so they could have a life together. Did they know? Did they even care?

  Something flickered in the depths of his eyes. Something amazing and scary. Sensual and vulnerable. An emotion she couldn’t recognize because it was so fleeting and then he shut it down. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss between her legs. Her stomach somersaulted.

  One hand slid to her belly, fingers splayed wide, pressing down. The other slipped up her thigh while his mouth closed around her clit. He suckled and then his tongue plunged deep. Immediately his thumb and fingers began a rhythmic flicking. There was no getting away from the building intensity. It was hard and fast. It both stung and sent streaks of fire ricocheting through her core.

  She heard her soft cry, felt his hair bunched in her fists. She wanted to watch him, see that dark lust and the lines of sensual hunger carved deep that drove him on and on, but the world had narrowed to that of just sensation. Her eyesight seemed to fade as did her hearing so there was only feeling. She felt beyond sensitive so that she could hardly take what he was doing.

  Her first orgasm hit like a freight train, rippling through her with a force that shook her, but he didn’t slow down. He didn’t stop or decrease the way he was using his mouth and teeth and tongue. His fingers slid into her, massaged and stroked. The second orgasm had her crying out, trying to find a purchase with her heels to back away from the relentless pressure. Over and over he flicked and pinched. He stroked and caressed. He stabbed deep and licked. There was no way to combat those things and her body coiled tighter and tighter.

  Ashe was afraid she would pass out. Her lungs felt raw and burned with the need for air. She never wanted him to stop, yet he had to if she was going to survive. She found herself resisting the urge to fight him, and then the tsunami was there, sweeping her up into a vortex of pleasure, sending her careening over the edge.

  She screamed, loud enough, she was certain, for the neighbors to hear. He lifted his head just enough to wipe his face on either thigh, the shadow of bristles dragging across the sensitive skin there, sending another strong aftershock that caused a shudder to run through her body.

  Ashe lay on the counter, staring up at the ceiling, her body limp and pliant, fighting for air that refused to come.

  Timur pressed a kiss into her belly button and carefully lowered her legs. He went to the sink and washed his face and hands before turning back to her. “Are you all right? Do you need help?” There was amusement in his voice.

  She didn’t care how much enjoyment she was giving him, lying there, making a spectacle of herself. Her body was alive. Humming. Every cell sparking so that if felt as if electricity ran through her veins and spilled over to every organ. She could just stay right where she was and not care about anything.

  She closed her eyes. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

  His soft laughter tempted her to open her eyes, but she didn’t. Instead, she threaded her fingers behind the nape of her neck and listened to the sounds he made as he moved around the kitchen. A drawer opening. Water running. His footsteps. It all blended together and was comforting. Then a warm cloth was between her legs. That felt soothing and caring and deserved at least a peek through her lashes.

  His expression was intense and focused completely on her. Her heart lurched. She could get used to that attention. She’d had a happy enough childhood. Her mother was barely sixteen when she had her and for whatever reasons, she’d remained a little distant from Ashe. Her father had been the main caregiver, of both of them really. Of her mother mostly.

  “My mom was beautiful,” she murmured aloud. “She really loved my father. She would look at him with this one expression, as if he was her entire world. It made me envious. I wanted her to look at me like that.” And now Timur was looking at her with that focused intensity, that look that said she was everything to him when they’d only known each other a couple of days. But it was there. Undeniably. And she liked it far too much.

  �
��He had to be her world, baby,” Timur said softly and pulled her into a sitting position. “He saved her from being the wife of a man like my father, a man who would have beaten her. Abused her. Forced her to have children, all the while taunting her that she was nothing and someday he would end her life. She knew what the lairs were like. Any male shifter in the lairs was expected to take a wife and then kill her to prove his loyalty. Your father saved her from being passed around to his father’s friends before she suffered that fate.”

  “What was I to my mother then?” She pushed at the hair tumbling around her face. The thick strands annoyed her, mostly because she needed to be annoyed rather than feel the way she had as a child—unwanted by her mother.

  “She probably was terrified that if she had a female child rather than a male, eventually, her husband would get rid of her. That was ingrained in them. Every female child in our lair knew what her fate was going to be. There was no way out for them.”

  “She was disappointed I was a girl?” That hurt. She’d known it, but it still hurt. Hearing him confirm it was almost devastating.

  He lifted her off the counter and held her until she got her legs to work. She stepped away as quickly as possible. She could be naked in front of him and that didn’t bother her. She could have wild sex with him, and she wasn’t embarrassed. But she didn’t want to feel this kind of vulnerability. To keep him from seeing her expression, she went to the cupboard where her dishes were stored.

  “I don’t think it was disappointment, Ashe,” he said as he lifted the lid on the wok. “I think your mother loved you very much. She wanted your father to teach you how to survive. They held themselves away from society or anywhere that might put your life in danger. She also wanted her sister safe, yet she didn’t try to go rescue her. She didn’t ask your father to rescue her. She stayed here with you to make certain you survived, and no one could get to you. That’s love. I know love when I see someone like you. Your parents gave you that.”