Leopard's Wrath (Leopard People 11)

Her bed frame was one of the restored pieces. It was solid wood and very heavy. Four thick posters rose at the corners, and across the headboard were framed spindles, each two inches thick. Along the bottom of the bed was a series of drawers, just under the mattress springs. The drawers were heavy and intricately carved. Her grandfather had found the bed for her, and they’d had such an adventure together that day, she’d never forget it.

“You’re crying.” Mitya’s voice came out of the darkness, just a distance away.

She closed her eyes tightly. She was. The tears kept running down her face in spite of the fact that she didn’t want to be emotional. The entire evening had been emotional. “You’re not supposed to know.” She’d been very quiet, hadn’t made a single sound, yet he’d known.

“I’ll always know when you’re distressed, kotyonok. I would comfort you, but right now I am the last person you want near you.”

Was that the truth? She didn’t think so. She didn’t have anyone else. She’d understood what Mitya had been trying to convey to her long before he’d laid down the law. She could pretend she was angry with him only so long, but the truth was, he was right. And he was doing something she couldn’t do. Her father was suffering. Sooner or later he would lose the struggle to contain his leopard and the cat would emerge, half-crazed, with no direction. Was she going to shoot it, knowing she would kill her father?

She flung her arm over her eyes. “None of this is your fault, Mitya. You were standing in front of me, telling me the truth, giving me no other choice but to face reality. That made you a convenient target. I’m sorry I got so angry with you. I don’t even know what I said to you.”

Her head hurt beyond imagining. She rolled over, facing toward the windows, watching the drops of rain run down the glass like tears. She was losing everything that mattered to her. Her life was gone. Her house had once been filled with laughter and love. Now there was only sorrow and fear. She couldn’t blame Mitya for that, although he had broad shoulders and he was willing to take the responsibility if that made her feel better.

The bed moved slightly as weight settled beside her. Mitya. She knew he was close without looking. She would know his scent anywhere. She found just the smell of him comforting. He seemed invincible. Larger than life. She’d been taking care of everything—the business, her father, the household and tracking his killers—for so long, she almost didn’t know how to just lay it all down and let him take over. She wanted him to, and yet she didn’t. She was afraid of the consequences of allowing him to take over. He would do what he believed was right. Sadly, when it came to the decision about her father, he was right. She just didn’t like the end results, no matter how necessary they were.

His hands settled on her shoulders, his fingers beginning a massage to ease the tension out of her. “Nothing you said was unwarranted, Ania. I am well aware you said things out of fear of losing your father.”

“I feel lost. It’s like I woke up one morning and instead of my familiar home, I’m in a labyrinth I can’t find my way out of and nothing makes sense.”

“You’re not alone anymore. Between us, we’ll sort everything out. I know Bannaconni, and I have friends in New Orleans. We’ll find the truth.”

She liked that he included her. He was a man to take over. He could be both ruthless and merciless, two traits she would need to rely on to get her through her father’s passing and finding his killers, but those were the very things she was most afraid of in him. What would it be like belonging to a man who wouldn’t listen to her when she needed him to?

“You scare me, Mitya.” She decided the truth was best.

“I’m aware of that, but there is no need to be afraid. I would never hurt you.”

Not physically, but she already felt bruised and battered, worn down by coming up against him. She was going to rely on his strength, but it was that strength that scared her the most when it came to living with him.

His hands were gentle, and that surprised her. He was incredibly strong, a big man, and yet when he touched her like this, he turned her inside out.

“I don’t think I thanked you for dinner. It was really delicious.”

“I didn’t cook it.”

There was a moment of silence. Her lashes fluttered, and she turned her head slightly to look at him there in the darkness. Amusement crept through her, a slow sensation that pitched her stomach into a curling roller coaster. After the terrible evening, she didn’t think anything could make her want to smile again.