Leopard's Run (Leopard People 10)

She stood in front of the mirror, lipstick in her hand, and her eyes went wide when he strode in. Her eyes caught him first thing. They were almost too big for her face. A very light brown, amber really, like a fine whiskey you sipped at night when you just wanted to lay it all down. The amber was ringed with very thick, dark lashes, making her eyes stand out. Those lashes feathered down in long sweeps, curling at the ends.

She turned toward him, lipstick held slightly in front of her as if that could stop him if he came at her. He knew he was intimidating. He was tall, had wide shoulders and a thick chest. Ropes of muscle rippled along his arms, back and chest and down his abdomen. His heart thudded unexpectedly. Hard. An ache he’d never experienced.

She was beautiful. He could see her front, those breasts pushing at her thin tank. The small, tucked-in waist that wasn’t in the least hidden by her shirt. She had hips and a very nice ass, which he’d noticed the moment he walked in. She filled those soft blue jeans to perfection. He kept walking right past her and yanked open each of the stall doors. It wouldn’t have mattered to him had they been locked. He still would have made the inspection. Fortunately, they were all empty; she was the only occupant in the room.

When he’d stepped past her to get to the stalls, he’d inhaled instinctively. She smelled faintly of grapefruit and fresh-cut cypress. Who smelled like that? Evidently he liked it, or, more importantly, his leopard did. Usually, if he got too close to a human being, male or female, his leopard raged, wanting to kill. Needing to draw blood. For the first time, the cat had gone entirely quiet. That never happened. As in—never . Even when he was close to Evangeline and his leopard settled, the cat was never like this. Quiet. Almost purring.

“You are?” he demanded. Shit. There was no denying his Russian accent or his growl. Both came out overly strong.

He doubted if the top of her head came up to the middle of his chest, but she narrowed her eyes at him in what, he suspected, was supposed to be a scary look.

“I’m in the women’s bathroom, which is supposed to be private to women .”

Sass. The woman had sass in abundance. Stupidity as well. He stepped closer to her, close enough that the tips of her breasts brushed his abs. She had to tilt her head all the way back to look up at him.

“You don’t fuck with a man like me,” he advised.

She nodded. “No, I won’t. Not ever. Thanks for the advice.”

Her voice was even enough, but she was totally fucking with him now, using his own words against him. He had to hand it to her, she kept a straight face and even managed wide-eyed innocence.

God help him, his body chose that moment to betray him. His physical reaction to her was intense. His cock lengthened and grew into a monster, roaring at him just the way his leopard always did, painful now. He didn’t dare step forward or back. She had to feel it. There was no hiding it and he kept his expression blank, but he did a hell of a lot of inward cursing—and he used his own language too. Never once in his life had he had such a problem. Now, of all times, his body had decided to react on its own.

He took a breath and resisted the idea of patting her down. By now, Fyodor was going to be restless. He wanted to see his woman and he would just …

“Is there a problem, Timur?” His brother’s voice came smoothly over the tiny radio.

Looking straight into her eyes, Timur answered. “No problem. Give me a minute.” His men were up on rooftops, watching over the car and keeping Fyodor safe while Timur checked out the interior of the bakery.

He was met with silence. That could mean anything. Fyodor might decide to not give Timur any shit for once and stay in the car, or he could just come striding in. In any case, Timur had to get away from close proximity to the woman. She was wreaking havoc with him and his leopard. For once, instead of demanding blood, his cat was acting weird, rolling around and practically purring. It was not only annoying, it was throwing him off his game.

“Tell me your name.”

“Ashe Bronte.”

“You made that up.”

“You’re just the nicest man I’ve ever met.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. “If you don’t like it, you’ll have to take it up with my parents. Unfortunately, they’re both deceased, so you might have a little trouble finding them.”

She pushed past him, and he let her go. She had hair. Lots of it. It was thick and wild, a light blond that also emphasized her unusual eyes. It was only after the door closed behind her, and he was left to stand alone in the cool of the ladies’ room, that he realized his leopard had been calm the entire time. Silent . There was no vicious raking. No demand for blood. Not even when his body had touched her body. For the first time in years he knew respite from his cat’s constant fury. But the minute the woman was out of his sight, his leopard reacted, going insane, fighting for control.