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)
“Leopards,” Ambroise whispered. “An entire army of leopards and they’re coming right at us fast.”
FLAMBÉ paced back and forth, restless, trying desperately to figure out what to do. She had made up her mind to leave the moment Shanty and her three children arrived. She would ensure the woman was in the program and then she’d make use of her own underground for the domestic violence shifter victims. She’d have to shut it down as soon as she entered it. No one else could ever know about it or use it again.
Sevastyan and Shturm were far too dangerous. Far too intelligent. And she was way too susceptible to the man. Flamme had proved herself to be too susceptible to the leopard. If she actually decided to make a run for it, she couldn’t look back because she’d change her mind.
Every muscle in her body hurt. She knew why. She hadn’t had sex with Sevastyan. She’d ignored him and in doing so, ignored her own needs. The buildup of hormones between Flamme and her was getting scary. Her skin felt hot to the touch. She felt as if she were burning from the inside out.
Suppressing her leopard was getting much more difficult. When she was alone, she allowed her to come close to the surface, but it hurt, and every single time the pain only got worse. Flambé thought that, with time, she’d get used to the feel of her surfacing, but that hadn’t happened. Her nerve endings seemed much more inflamed. The sensations burned through her body like a blowtorch, taking her breath, robbing her of her ability to think. She couldn’t bear the feel of fabric against her skin, so she stripped, tearing at her clothes and flinging them aside, grateful that no one could get into the master bedroom.
Naked, she paced faster, desperate to outrun the horrible way her skin burned and itched. Strands of hair fell, snaking down from the messy knot she’d hastily twisted on top of her head, snaking down across her bare back and sliding across her buttocks. She had to bite back a scream as a thousand tongues licked at her skin, points of white-hot flames flicking at her on the end of each of them. Tears tracked down her face as she caught at the ponytail and desperately tried to re-loop, pulling the thick strands back up off her skin.
This was so much worse than it ever had been. “Flamme, he isn’t here. Shturm isn’t here. You can’t rise when he isn’t here.” She made it a mantra. No leopard could rise without their mate around, right? That had to be right. She was beginning to think she wouldn’t be able to control the situation. She didn’t know. She just didn’t know. She hadn’t asked enough questions.
Her breath came in ragged sobs, her lungs heaving. The burning between her legs grew and grew until it felt like a blowtorch. The terrible knots in her stomach, that pressure inside, coiled tighter and tighter until she thought she might die.
Hands shaking, she looked around the room helplessly, desperate enough to call him. Sevastyan. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t be like the others. She wouldn’t put herself in the hands of a man. She’d never seen it work out. Not once. She didn’t know a single decent man. A shifter. They were all horrible. They all cheated. Were abusive. In the end he would hurt her. But this . . .
She forced herself to the window, looking out over the trees and shrubs, the beauty she’d helped to create. He’d acted as if he’d actually been so proud of her. She’d seen it on his face. It was difficult to hide the truth from a leopard. There was so much about Sevastyan she didn’t understand. She wanted him to be real, but if she was wrong, she wouldn’t just pay with her life, she would pay with Flamme’s life as well. She’d sworn to protect her leopard.
She pressed up against the coolness of the glass, her breasts on fire, her nipples two pinpoints of flames. She thought the cold would help, but it was so much worse, almost as if the cold were really hot wax poured over her breasts instead of cold. She cried out and jerked back, stumbling toward the bed.
She needed relief. She had to have some relief. In her closet, that huge monstrosity of a room that passed for a closet, she had a drawer where she kept a variety of feminine toys. When she had forced herself to stay away from the bars, she had used the toys to try to give herself at least a little respite. Hopefully, they would help.
Her skin lifted, a wave moving so that deep inside molten heat expanded and contracted like the inside of a volcano, as if it was breathing in and out, right before its final explosion. The feeling set every cell in her body, every nerve ending on fire. Between her legs and in her deepest core, she burned so hot she thought she’d go insane.