Leopard’s Rage (Leopard People #12) Read Online Christine Feehan

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Leopard People Series by Christine Feehan
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Total pages in book: 172
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
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“You’re panicking, Flambé, that’s what you’re doing, and if you panic, your brain doesn’t work. You know that. You’ve been in a panic since Franco ran you off the road. You have to get yourself under control if you’re going to carry this through.”

Sevastyan had almost stepped into the room to make his presence known, but he halted at the way she worded her own reprimand. Carry what through? He was responsible for his cousin’s security. No matter what, he had to know everything that was going on around Mitya and that included his woman, whether she had one foot out the door or not. He stayed very still, getting comfortable, leaning one hip casually against the wall while he listened, a little amused that she talked to herself while she paced.

“You can’t have him. It doesn’t matter how much you wanted him. All those times at the club watching him. All the nights you couldn’t sleep just thinking about him, wishing you could have one night with him. You’re not built that way. This is a huge mess and you made it. He didn’t. You let his leopard claim yours because you were so scared of Franco. Now Franco is targeting him. That’s not fair, Flambé, and you know it. So, make the call, stop putting it off. Find a flight, it doesn’t matter where it’s going, take the tunnel to Ania’s place and have someone meet you with a car and drive you to the airport. Just do it. Who though? Who would do it and be discreet? Who can I count on who Franco won’t have a chance of hurting for information?”

The pent-up aggression in Shturm that ran in Sevastyan’s veins as well sent a familiar rush of heat burning through him, settling deep in his groin. There was nothing familiar about the raw hunger that slammed into his cock, stretching him beyond what his monster had ever been, to the point of hurting, not just aching. His body reacted to everything she said. Everything she did. He’d known savage, brutal sexual hunger many times, but not like this.

He stepped into the room, every bit as silent as his leopard had been stalking his challenger. Flambé was a few feet from him, facing away so he could see her beautifully shaped ass, but she spun around, her eyes going wide with shock. She was still in the clothes she’d gone to bed in—a lacy thong and a thin clingy stretch lace top that barely covered her full breasts.

Sevastyan caught her hand and turned without saying a word, striding from the room, down the hall, to the staircase.

“Wait.” Flambé tried to halt, but he kept walking, taking her with him. He didn’t tighten his grip. He didn’t walk faster or slower. He didn’t look back. He just continued as if he hadn’t heard her. He felt the fine tremor that went through her body and when he inhaled, he scented her hot call. He knew when a woman wanted him and Flambé reacted to his sudden show of dominance.

Sevastyan continued walking up the stairs until he came to the door of his private suite. It was locked, and he bent to use a retinol scan to get in so he wouldn’t have to let go of his woman. She was still straining back from him, not exactly struggling, but acting reluctant. She hadn’t protested other than that first little “Wait.”

He took her inside, closed the door deliberately and turned to click all the locks in place—all three of them—forcing her to stand beside him while he did. She glanced up at him, her lashes fluttering, those long red-gold-tipped lashes that made her look so vulnerable. She had a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. He wanted to kiss every one of them, but he resisted.

He indicated the center of the room. “Stand there.” He dropped her wrist and waited to see if she would obey him.

Flambé stood looking up at him for a moment and then around his room. He watched her swallow several times. It was a purely masculine room. All his. Large furniture. Thick, carved wood with big posts and heavy spindles, good places for bondage. There were hooks on his ceiling and a pulley system. Mirrors on the wall and ceiling. On one side, hanging from the high ceiling, he had constructed a large tree out of knots and wood with a very small hammock made of knots hanging high from one of the limbs. There were shelves with ropes of different colors and textures in bundles.

Sevastyan let her look her fill. He didn’t tell her a second time, but he did stare at her with piercing eyes, daring her to disobey him. She pressed her lips together and for one moment she squirmed, her body restless, her skin flushing with heat before she moved to the exact center of the room right under the hook placed there.



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