Leopard's Wrath (Leopard People 11)

She swept a hand through her hair and regarded him for a long time while she attempted to get her ragged, labored breathing under control. “I’m sorry, Mitya. I shouldn’t be yelling at you. I know you’re just trying to help. The thought of him dying is terrifying to me. I keep thinking if I can keep him alive long enough, the doctors will find a way to remove the bullet and he’ll be back to normal. I just want him alive.”

Mitya regarded her with cold, almost arctic blue eyes. So cold she shivered. “He’s suffering, Ania. You have to let him go.”

She closed her eyes against the truth. One hand went defensively over her throat, the other over her heart as if it ached so badly, she couldn’t take the pain. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered. She looked up at him and there was pleading in her eyes. “I don’t think I’m that strong.”

He curved his palm around the nape of her neck. “You don’t have to be that strong, Ania. I am. That’s why you have me. I promised him I’d take care of you. That I’d keep you safe. You heard him. You know what he wants. Dymka, my leopard, will make certain his leopard doesn’t suffer.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I’d ever forgive you.”

“I can’t pass this duty on to one of my men. First, I respect your father too much for that. I gave him my word, and I’m your man. Not one of them. I trust Sevastyan’s leopard, but no other, to make his leopard’s death quick and painless. I don’t want Sevastyan, who has no anchor, no woman to tame his leopard, to have to control him to that point. This is a debt of honor, Ania. I have no choice. None. I must do this for you, to keep you safe, whether you want it or not. I must do it for your father, to preserve his honor. That means so much to him.”

He would not plead with her. He would state facts, but he wouldn’t seek forgiveness. If she didn’t understand now, he was certain she would eventually. Now, she was emotional and afraid. He didn’t blame her. Her father seemed to be a wonderful man. Mitya didn’t have that. He knew nothing about the emotional ties between a father and daughter. The fathers he’d known hadn’t been good men.

Ania took a deep breath and moved away from him, going to the floor in front of the fireplace again. Just dropping down as if her legs wouldn’t hold her another moment.

Mitya followed, bringing the bottle of water for her. He took the chair just behind her so she could rest her back against his legs and put her head in his lap if she wanted to do so. Right now, she remained stiff and upright, holding herself away from him, staring into the flames.

“Tell me about him, kotyonok. Clearly, he is a man of integrity. It is obvious he loves you. What did he do for the many crime lords he worked for?”

She was silent for so long he didn’t think she would answer him. He moved carefully. His body was still aching and painful from the bullet wounds. One especially still bothered him, and he often eased his position in order to try to remove the chronic pain. He was patient. He knew silence and sorrow often went hand in hand.

“My father was always laughing. Always. He could turn the worst situation into something happy, as if every occasion had some kind of sunshine in it. My mother loved his sense of humor. Every morning they smiled at each other over the breakfast table. We always ate together. They laughed a lot. They were always touching and kissing. I grew up that way, in a house filled with laughter and love.” She turned slightly to look at him. “The exact opposite of you.”

That was true. She hadn’t made it an accusation, but Mitya felt as if she was accusing him, saying without words that he was a killer and always would be. It was true. Even if she had made the allegation aloud, he wouldn’t have been able to deny it. He was a killer and he always would be. Drake Donovan had given him a purpose, a way to try for redemption, but deep down, he knew he was what he’d been twisted into.

He nodded. “That is true, Ania. The exact opposite.” That would be why he could keep her alive. No one, especially her father, was going to harm her.

“He acted as if he likes you. Even respects you.”

He couldn’t get that from the slow, slurred words, but Ania knew him better than anyone else and her voice rang with truth, so he chose to believe her. That assessment humbled him. Her father was a good man, and to have his respect meant something.