Leopard's Wrath (Leopard People 11)

Damir’s leopard pulled back his lips in a snarl and then rushed, using his speed to try to drive Dymka off his feet. Dymka leapt, using his flexible spine to turn back in midair and slash a deep furrow from nose to eye as Damir shot past him. Momentum took Dymka right into Artem, where the leopard was crouched, waiting to run in and join the fray if Damir knocked Dymka off his feet. He sent Artem tumbling when his larger, solid-muscled body hit the leopard hard.

Dymka followed him, ripping and slashing, tearing great chunks of fur and skin from the cat as he tried to scramble to his feet. Dymka didn’t allow it, landing on the cat’s back, his teeth sinking into his neck in an effort to sever the spine.

Damir snarled a warning and then came at him again. This time he was much leerier, watching for Dymka’s reaction. Mitya knew Damir had to smell Jewel’s scent all over Dymka. He would know that the female Lazar was scouring the grounds for belonged to Mitya. They knew she’d left the kitchen and that she was outside somewhere.

The sound of gunfire was loud on the surrounding grounds. Fyodor was running the battle. This was his home, and he knew every single nook and cranny of his estate as well as every place a leopard could run.

Lazar had not caught the cousins alone. He thought he’d been so clever because he’d caught them all together. He hadn’t considered that the others, their friends, were all leopard, or that they had brought personal bodyguards with them.

Artem’s leopard collapsed, sides heaving, but Dymka didn’t believe the leopard was finished. He spun to face Damir, jumping sideways away from Artem, just to be safe. Artem wouldn’t attack face-to-face, but the moment Dymka’s back was to him, he would try to take advantage.

A leopard screamed not two feet from them. Damir made the mistake of turning his head to check on his friend. Instantly, Dymka was on him. Mitya had had that particular mistake beaten out of him by the time he was twelve. Nothing could interfere with a leopard’s fight to the death. Dymka was taught, as was Mitya, to keep his entire focus on the fight until he had made certain his opponent was no longer breathing.

Dymka took full advantage, locking his teeth into Damir’s neck, holding him there in the suffocating bite. All the while, he watched Artem. The cat slunk away rather than trying to help Damir. The years hadn’t changed him much. He was still the coward he’d been back then. Mitya despised him. So did Dymka.

Damir’s cat refused to submit. Mitya hadn’t expected it to. Very slowly the life drained from the eyes and Damir slid all the way to the floor. Dymka held him a few more moments, all the while watching Artem. Rather than try to help Damir, the golden cat pushed backward toward the door.

Sevastyan had killed the smaller cat and was now in a fierce battle with the larger one, along with Kiriil. There was no way to help Josue. He was already dead, slumped over on the floor as well. Mitya felt regret for the loss of life, both lives.

There had been a time Damir had been a decent human being. He had held out for a long while, but looking back, Mitya realized, Damir had held out because he had. It had been Mitya’s strength that had carried the two of them, and when Mitya was gone, Damir had crumbled.

Artem moved again, drawing Dymka’s attention. The moment the golden leopard saw he was the focus of the larger cat, he turned and ran, leaping up to the window and pushing through in spite of the shards of glass still in the frame. Dymka was too large to fit through that particular window, but the door was still cracked open and the cat sprinted outside after the golden leopard.

Artem stopped at the edge of the vegetable garden, but when he saw Dymka burst from the house, he turned tail and ran. Dymka rushed past one of Lazar’s lieutenants, who gave a startled shout and then turned his automatic toward the big leopard. It would be impossible for any of them not to know Mitya’s cat. They’d all participated in beating him and fighting with him on the pretense of training him.

He lifted the automatic and the sound of a rifle was almost simultaneous with the bullet that took the back of the lieutenant’s head. He went down to his knees and then he fell forward, his face in the dirt, his nerveless finger never finding the trigger.

Dymka put on a burst of speed, launching himself in the air, extending his front legs to hook his claws in Artem’s hindquarters. He dragged the cat to a halt and slammed him to the ground, refusing to let him go. His hooked nails pierced deep as he bit down on the spine. The cat screamed, the sound reverberating through the night.