“I was always careful. I never took a woman to my home. Not. Ever. That was his territory. My leopard’s territory. I went to her apartment, kept her turned away from me so she wasn’t looking into my eyes and I wasn’t looking into hers.” He rubbed his thumb over her lips. That full bottom lip that he loved and wanted to take a bite out of.

She swallowed hard. He felt the movement of her throat in the palm of his hand and that was intimate and sexy. Her breath was against the pad of his thumb. Her tongue tasted, just for a moment, and the soft brush of moist velvet sent heat shimmering through his veins.

“I like rough sex. I need it. I like a lot of things I couldn’t have, things I fantasized about, but knew were impossible because of my leopard.” He bent his head until his forehead touched hers. Rested there. “Until you. Until you, Evangeline. There was no having anything for myself until you.”

His gaze never left hers. He held her captive, refusing to look away, letting his leopard focus completely on her. Their miracle. Their savior. The woman who would give them everything they needed and hungered for. Evangeline.

His leopard stretched. Stroked. Purred. Rubbed amorously along the surface. Not clawing. No raking. No snarling for the kill. After years of fighting for supremacy, he seemed content to allow Alonzo to seduce their mate.

“There was no taking my time with a woman. I did the minimum of what it took to get her ready, did my thing, got off and got the hell out fast before my leopard could hurt her. Every moment I was with a woman, her life was in danger. Every second. The worst was when I climaxed. At that moment, any man, me included, no matter how strong, is on the very edge of his control. My cat would always push closer, wanting revenge.”

She frowned. An adorable little frown that told him in that moment she wasn’t thinking about running like she should have been—the way she would later. She was thinking about what it was like to be him. He resisted kissing her because he knew he might not stop once he started and she deserved better than the life he was going to give her. She needed care. Patience. Gentleness if he could manage it.

“I don’ understand, Alon—” At his narrowed gaze she shrugged. “Fyodor.” His name rolled off her tongue with her Louisiana accent. A Russian name pronounced with a Southern accent. He loved how hot that sounded. “Why would he want revenge on the woman, and what did he intend to do?”

“He would have killed her. He needed to kill her.”