Leopard's Run (Leopard People 10)

Godiva hit the male hard, coming in from his right side and driving him off Timur. Instantly he had the jeans gone and was able to shift completely, whirling around to face his opponent. Godiva’s momentum had taken her to the open doorway and she went right on out the door so there was nothing at all between Timur and his opponent. He’d never seen the large leopard before. It was in good fighting shape and had obviously seen battles. It was an Amur, beautiful and distinctive. He knew then he was facing Anton Lipin.

Temnyy raged, his lips drawn back, ears flat, snarling, fierce and ready to fight. He growled at his opponent, and then took a step toward him with a screaming roar of fury. The two cats stared, each waiting for the other to make a single move while they growled and spit, showing their displeasure and hatred of each other.

They launched themselves almost simultaneously, meeting in midair, trying to wrap each other up, gripping with their front legs, while their back legs sought to do the most damage possible, ripping and slicing at bellies and genitals. Anton’s leopard was every bit as vicious as Temnyy. They came down, locked together, rolling, legs tearing at each other. They hit the island, and for a moment were trapped there, big bodies bending at impossible angles, utilizing their flexible spines.

Temnyy broke away, rolled to his feet, leapt into the air and attacked before Anton’s leopard could climb to his feet. Gripping with his front legs, Temnyy held him fast while he sank teeth deep and ripped and tore with his hind legs. He couldn’t get a good enough hold to kill him, so he did as much damage as possible to weaken him.

The two leopards broke apart, eyed each other for a short growling session, and then Anton launched his big male into the air. Temnyy rose to meet him, slashing with razor-sharp claws at the exposed belly. It was luck more than just plain skill that allowed him to hook claws deep and rip his opponent open.

Anton’s leopard howled in pain, falling to the floor as blood instantly covered his belly. He lay on one side panting, agony forcing his human to take his place in order to spare the animal suffering.

Timur made certain there were no weapons close as he shifted back to human as well. He lifted his gaze to his woman standing in the doorway before checking out the dying man. She had to be all right. There was blood on her, but she was standing, head up, just looking across the mess that had once been an immaculate kitchen. She tossed him his jeans and he dragged them on before switching his attention to Anton. The man was in a bad way. Even if Timur wanted, he couldn’t have saved him.

Anton looked up at Timur. “You don’t know what you have. What she does. Let her come to me. Sit by me.” There was pride on his face, and in his voice, but not in his eyes. The plea was there. “She calms him. My leopard. She makes him settle. He’s never had that. Not once in all these years.”

It was that simple—or that monumental. Anton Lipin cared for his leopard, and like all leopards in the fucked-up lairs, his had been viciously abused and trained to be savage. Out for blood. Cruel. Every bad trait possible had been encouraged and brought out. In doing so, there was no rest for the human counterpart.

Timur fought for his breath as he reached a hand toward his woman. His men were pouring into the alleyway and bakery, spreading out, making certain that every threat was gone. They needed to do damage control outside, in the alleyway, making certain those shop owners who might be arriving early saw nothing that would alarm them.

Ashe went to him, compassion in her eyes as she glanced down at the man who had nearly killed Timur. Then her gaze was sliding over her man, touching on every slash, cut and rising bruise. She brushed his face with gentle fingers. His hands were on her, sliding over her, noting every drop of blood. She had a gash in her temple and another along her shoulder. There was a tear in her shirt. She was barefoot and dusted in what looked like flour. She was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

“Beside me,” Anton said. “Close. For him. He has needed a rest, and there was never one for him.”

Timur sank down onto the floor beside the dying man. Oddly, he identified with him. That very well could have been his fate—asking his enemy to help his leopard as they passed from the world. Like Timur, Anton had been born into that world of violence. He’d given his allegiance to the head of their lair, as they were taught almost from their first breath. He’d lived a life of pure hell, forcing his raging leopard to be among prey every minute while he lived his double life as an Interpol agent and enforcer for Lazar. He’d done his duty, just as Timur had. They’d just chosen different sides.