by Nalini Singh
Agony and ecstasy, pleasure and pain.
The black wolf that lived within him took form in sparks of color, its nose picking up a thousand unique tendrils of scent. Shaking its head to clear it after the shift, it began to run, disturbed by its own confusion. All its life, the wolf had been the one who felt nothing but certainty, been alternately amused and frustrated by the man’s way of complicating things.
Not now. Now it asked the man for clarity … and together they ran, the wind ruffling through the pitch black of the wolf’s fur, the forest a familiar playground, the trees watchful sentinels. The freedom of it was intoxicating, until the wolf could almost forget the strange turmoil within. But when the sky grew lighter, and its steps slower, it knew the time had come to return home. The wild called to both parts of Riaz, yet something drew man and wolf to the den, the tug so deep that he rubbed a fisted hand over his heart after shifting.
Time to get some sleep, he thought, and having dressed, began to walk toward his quarters … then suddenly, he was tracking another scent. Delicate and strong. Fragile and steely. A puzzle that suited the enigma of a woman for whom the need in him burned hot and intense. He caught up to her just as she reached her door.
A pregnant pause, last night repeated.
Not turning, she pushed through.
Entering behind her, he shut the door, turned the lock.
Chapter 31
HIS CRAVING FOR her, a craving that hadn’t abated even a fraction, roared to the surface when she reached down and pulled off the T-shirt she’d been wearing, baring the long, toned sweep of her back, broken only by the lines of a black sports bra. He used a claw to shred the bra off her body, his hands sliding around her torso to close over her breasts.
Her breath hitched, her nipples tight points against his palms. When she tilted her neck to the side, the invitation was clear. Taking it, he sucked a dark red mark on the lower slope, making her twist against him. So, she was exquisitely sensitive there. Something to remember.
An acid stab of guilt, a reminder that this was not the lover he should be learning how to please, how to adore. He strangled the voice, determined to hold to his decision to move forward … but it wouldn’t quieten, the black tendrils of betrayal wrapping around his mind and twining through his blood.
Slender, warm fingers on his own. “We aren’t the only people in this room right now, are we, Riaz?”
Backing off, he shoved his hands through his hair, beyond angry at himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to go like this.” He’d come to her in honest need, but now that need was tangled with the caustic taste of infidelity, the chill rain of grief. The fact that he knew he had no rational reason to feel disloyal meant nothing when the primal heart of him was fighting itself, tooth and claw.
Instead of turning on him in fury, a reaction he would’ve understood from a predatory changeling female of her dominance, Adria toed off her boots and crawled into bed, still dressed in her jeans. Giving him her back, she said, “Come here. Lie with me.”
Every muscle in his body locked, torn between two fiercely opposed desires. “I don’t know if I can.” The admission was ripped out of him.
“No expectations, just two wolves taking comfort from one another.” A pause heavy with things unsaid. “I need the touch, too.”
The hidden pain of her, it smashed through the tumult inside him to touch the protective core. Kicking off his own shoes, he stripped off his T-shirt and stretched out behind her. He’d left enough space between their bodies that he could see the graceful curve of her spine, the creamy gold of her skin flawless. It was instinct to run his hand over her back, to accept the skin privileges she’d offered him, even as he petted the pain out of her for a fragment of time.
Sighing, she swept her braid off her back and over her shoulder, saying nothing as he continued to touch. Though she was the one who was ostensibly receiving pleasure, he gained as much from the contact. He’d come to her broken and lost, and with her vulnerability, she’d given him the tools he needed to reclaim the reins—to help him, this strong woman had had the courage to rip open her own scars. Driven by protective instinct, he curved his bigger, heavier body around hers, his chest pressed to her back, his hand stroking down her arm, slow and easy.
Her eyes, he saw, were closed, but he knew she was awake. So when she spoke, he wasn’t startled—but neither was he ready for her question. “Will you tell me about her?”
His answer was automatic. “There’s nothing to say.”
Her lashes remained soft shadows on her cheeks. “Of course there is, and you can’t speak to anyone else. I won’t make any judgments or offer any advice. I’m just here to listen.”
His hand clenched on her arm before he forced himself to relax his grip. The only reason he’d said anything to Indigo when he first arrived home was because he hadn’t wanted to see her mess up what he’d sensed was the right relationship for her. He didn’t regret that choice, made as it had been out of friendship, but he still sometimes wished she didn’t know—because it was his greatest weakness.
And Indigo knew the barest facts. Adria already saw too much of him … and was a woman strong enough, honest enough, to admit to her own wounds. “Her name,” he said, knowing that honesty deserved his own, “is Lisette.”
Speaking of her caused a sweet, dark pain inside of him, but there was wild joy, too. At last, he could say her name, share her with someone. “She’s French but works in Venice.” He’d seen her at an elegant ball held in one of the oldest buildings in the sunken city, its stately lower half submerged, its upper half a masterpiece of ornate architecture.
“The Human Alliance is based in Venice.”
“Lisette’s husband, Emil, is a computronic specialist with the Alliance.” He was a successful, smart man who loved his wife. Riaz had wanted to kill him on sight, been stopped only by the realization that that love was reflected in Lisette’s blue eyes—to harm Emil would be to harm Lisette, and Riaz would never do anything to cause her pain. “On the surface,” he continued, “Lisette is a business manager for an unrelated company, but I’m pretty certain it’s a cover for an Alliance communications operation.”
Adria opened her eyes. “You didn’t ask?”
“No.” His task had been to watch, to learn, to make contacts. While SnowDancer’s relationship with the Alliance had thawed enough that the pack was willing to do some business with the group that represented a vast network of human enterprises, neither party was anywhere close to ready to share secrets.
“If she runs their comm team, she must be intelligent.”
“No doubt,” he said, mind filling with echoes of the conversations they’d had while he fought his most primal instincts to steal what time he could with her. “But the first thing I noticed about her was her laugh.” Gentle and warm and so alive. “My wolf wanted to roll around in it.”
He’d never forget walking into the ball in Venice, the sight of her a punch to the solar plexus, the thick mass of her shoulder-length hair shining in the light, such a pure gold it hurt. “She’s tiny, five feet one maybe, but you don’t notice that when you first meet her.” All he’d noticed was the feminine strength of her.
“I met with her a number of times—the company she heads produces certain comm technology that could be useful to SnowDancer.” Alone in an office with her, he’d wanted to lunge across the desk separating them, nuzzle his face into her neck, bite her, mark her. “She felt something, too. I could sense it. It rattled her.” Because Lisette was a faithful, loving wife. “I knew she’d hate herself if she ever betrayed Emil.”
“She sounds like someone I’d like.”
Thinking of the strong, compassionate woman Adria called sister, he said, “Yes, I think you would.” Lisette and Tarah had the same gentle steel to them, the same inviting openness of spirit.
Realizing he was completely curled around her, the arm he’d placed under her head bent to wrap over her upper chest, he played her braid through
his fingers. “Do you have to go anywhere this morning?” It was seven thirty, the den’s corridors certain to be filled with packmates starting their day.
“No.” Her lashes closed, throwing charcoal shadows onto her cheekbones.
Exhaling quietly, he closed his own eyes and slept with her, skin to skin, his wolf finding unexpected peace in the nearness of a packmate who didn’t judge, didn’t ask things from him he couldn’t give, and who shared her body with a rare kindness of spirit. Adria Morgan was a woman he would never forget, no matter if their liaison lasted a week or a year.
HAWKE glanced at Sienna. She’d been pensive since they’d left the home of Mercy’s parents ten minutes earlier—where Mercy and Riley had broken the news of Mercy’s pregnancy to their respective alphas, though both Hawke and Lucas had known the instant they got within ten feet of the redhead. It was funny how that worked—the previous night, they’d had no clue, but now that Riley knew, it was as if Mercy’s leopard had decided it was okay to allow others in on the secret.
Hawke and Lucas’s unhidden glee at this most primal seal on the DarkRiver-SnowDancer alliance had garnered them a snarl, though everyone was too goofy with happiness to work up any kind of a good mad. However, right that second, his mind wasn’t on the news that had delighted his wolf enough to put it in harmony with the leopard alpha.
“Hey,” he said, switching the car into hover mode to ensure he didn’t crush any of the tiny forest plants in this area. “Are you pining for your country music?” She’d forgotten her portable music player, which she usually connected to the onboard stereo. “Cruel and unusual punishment, that stuff.”
“You liked the one we slow danced to last night.”
“I tolerated it.” The truth was, when they danced, he didn’t hear anything but the whisper of her breath, the beat of her heart, the low murmur of her voice. “Talk to me, baby.” It sounded like an order, and yeah, it kind of was.
A narrow-eyed glance aimed his way. “I should refuse on principle.”
“What if I say please?”
Sienna’s laugh was soft, intimate, that of a woman who knew him, accepted him. She never let it slide when she thought he was pulling shit, but she didn’t bust his ass for acting who he was—an alpha wolf. “I was thinking,” she said, her laughter fading, “about children. We’ve never talked about it.”
It was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “You want babies?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sienna sink her teeth into her lower lip. “I didn’t really consider it before. Because…”
“I know.” His hands tightened on the manual steering wheel at the reminder that she’d lived her life believing she’d die before she ever had a chance to live.
“I’m still scared.” A quiet confession.
Wolf sensing her need, he found a clearing and pulled into it, setting the car down so he could turn, brace his arm along the back of her seat. It wasn’t enough, not for either part of him. Shoving back his seat, he slid her across and into his lap. She came without the least protest, a silent indication of just how troubled she was feeling.
“We have years,” he said. “There’s no rush.”
She sat up so she could look into his face. “It’s not that.”
“Talk to me.”
“It’s a genetic mutation, the X-marker, appearing randomly in the population,” she said, a quiet urgency in her every word, “but there is a very high probability I’ll pass it on to any child I conceive, and I won’t do that, Hawke. I won’t.”
“Hey.” Cradling her face in his hands, he rubbed his nose affectionately against her own. “Changelings don’t like the way Psy constantly mess with the DNA of their offspring, but even we make an exception for diseases that could harm a child’s welfare.” He continued before she could interrupt, his voice fierce. “As far as I’m concerned, your X-fire isn’t a disease. It’s a gift.” It had saved the pack, saved so many lives. “B—”
“Walker’s helix,” Sienna broke in, her skin flushed with the intensity of her emotions. “I know it keeps me stable, but there’s no predicting the result when the X-marker first goes active.” Tears glittered in the midnight of her eyes. “Our baby could burn up, and we wouldn’t be able to stop it.”
He cupped the back of her neck, squeezed gently. “Which is why I was going to say that in spite of the fact I see your ability as a gift, if you want to see a genetic specialist before we try for a child, I’ll be right there beside you.”
“Really?” Slender fingers on his jaw.
“Always,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear, his Psy with her capacity to love with a passion as wild as the crimson and gold of her X-fire. “But I’m not budging on the hair.” He rubbed the ruby red strands between his fingertips.
No smile, fear lingering in the ebony shimmer of her eyes. “The other thing is,” she whispered, “I don’t know how pregnancy will impact my abilities. I know of no case where an X has even been pregnant, much less carried a child to term.” Her throat moved as she swallowed painfully. “The changes caused by pregnancy could destabilize me, kill our child, hurt the pack.”
“Ah, baby.” Stroking his hand around to cup her cheek, he ran his thumb over the delicate arch of her cheekbone, warmth cascading through his veins when she turned her face into the touch. “I won’t say that’s not a real worry, but what I will say is that you’re becoming stronger with each day that passes. Fuck, I’m proud of who you are, who you’re becoming.” His wolf strutted around the den with its chest puffed out. “I know when the time comes to make that choice, we’ll be ready.”
“I know the other mated couples don’t use anything to prevent conception because the birth rate for changelings is so low, but—”
He kissed the words off her lips, laving affection on her until the tension left her body. “Anything that eases your mind, I’m good with.” Changeling pairs rarely had more than one or two children, and it was highly unlikely Sienna would fall pregnant so soon after mating—but there was no reason to chance it with his mate’s life at stake. “I’m sure Lara will know the best option for Psy physiology.” The healer had been gathering medical knowledge about Psy since the family’s defection to SnowDancer.
“I know that,” Sienna said, a pert look to her that made him chuckle.
“Was I taking over?”
“Just a little bit.” Fingers weaving through his hair.
His wolf rubbed up against his skin, wanting that touch. Later, he promised.
“I spoke to Lara and got what I needed when I first became an adult,” Sienna told him, “I was so afraid about passing on the X mutation.” The mate bond vibrated with quiet passion. “I didn’t purposefully keep it a secret—it just never came up before.”
“I know.” Sienna’s honesty was an integral aspect of her nature. “It’s a good thing you took care of that or we’d probably be wrangling a litter in a year or two, rabble-rouser that you are.”
A playful thump against his chest. “I think that maybe, I might not be a bad mother,” she said with a shaky smile, “but I’m not ready yet.”
“Hey, I’m not sure I am either.” He might be wolf, might be alpha, but he was also a man who’d just found his mate after believing he’d never have that bond. “I want this time with you.” Curving his hand around her rib cage, he slanted his mouth over hers in a slow, petting kind of a kiss, licking out at her lower lip, nipping at her upper one.
“Hawke.” His name a caress, Sienna wrapped her arms around his neck and melted into the kiss. A far more pleasurable kind of tension rippled through her body, her eyes devoid of stars for a reason that had nothing to do with fear or worry when she broke the kiss to run her lips along his jaw.
He groaned, went to slide his hand under her shirt … but Sienna shifted without warning. Tumbling out of the car after shoving the door open, she shot him a look of pure challenge. “Twenty-minute head start. I get to our grotto before you. Winner does what she wants with t
he loser.”
His wolf jerked to attention. “Go.” There was nothing he liked better than playing with Sienna, especially when he had more than one new trick up his sleeve. Baring his lips in a feral grin, he waited exactly twenty minutes before taking off after her.
Chapter 32
ADRIA WAKENED TO find herself wrapped in hot, muscled male flesh. Not for an instant did she wonder who it was that held her, the dark woodsmoke and fresh bite of Riaz’s scent intimately familiar. Sensing he hadn’t yet awakened, she remained motionless, the crispness of his chest hair against her palm an exquisite temptation, the thickness of his thigh shoved between her own—pressed against the part of her that was going damp with a slow, inexorable arousal though she tried to fight the response.
She hadn’t invited him into bed to demand sex, but there was no way he’d fail to sense her body’s response. His erection rubbed against her almost the instant the thought passed through her head, and then he was rolling her over onto her back, still sleepy-eyed, his hair tousled and unbearably sexy.
“Riaz,” she said, thrusting a hand into the jet black strands to keep him in place when he would’ve gone for her breasts.
Except there really was no way to stop a dominant changeling male who outweighed her by a good eighty pounds from going after what he wanted in bed, not unless she wanted to say an unequivocal “no.” Because that would get through. The thing was, she didn’t want to say no. She just wanted to make sure he was fully conscious.
“Oh God!” Her back arched up off the bed as he took one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked. Hard.
He fondled her neglected breast with his free hand, a little rough, and so perfect it made her ache. Wanting to rub up against the thickness she could feel hot and rigid against her thigh through the jeans neither of them had taken off, she forced herself to concentrate—and pulled at his hair hard enough that it had to hurt.