And he loved his sister with a strength that made her call him an overprotective bear on a regular basis. He didn’t care. The pack had helped—so much—but it was Riley Brenna had looked to after their parents’ deaths, Riley who’d kissed her scrapes and soothed her nightmares. The fact that she was mated didn’t change his right to look after her.
A knot of guilt and fury twisted around his heart on the heels of that thought. He hadn’t dreamed last night, but the ache was there, as always. Because the truth was, he’d failed Brenna when she needed him most. That Psy bastard Santano Enrique had hurt his sister, hurt her so much that she’d almost broken.
“But she didn’t break. She fucking survived, and the last thing she needs now is an idiot brother who feels sorry for himself.” Mercy’s voice again, words she’d thrown at him when he’d snarled at her one time too many after Brenna’s rescue.
What would she say if she could hear his thoughts right now?
He reached back to touch his shoulder, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips as old rage retreated under a wave of the most primal desire. If he’d known it would be this good between them, he’d have said to hell with self-control and gone after her months ago. That, he thought as he walked into the bathroom, was one mistake he wouldn’t be repeating.
By the time Drew dragged his sorry ass back through the door, Riley was dressed and eating scrambled eggs. “No visible bruises,” he said, eyes going to Drew’s chest. His brother had been shot through the heart last winter, his blood a scarlet flower across the snow—Riley’s wolf couldn’t help the near-automatic check. “Either Judd was in a good mood, or your ribs must hurt like hell.”
“Laugh if you will,” Drew said, an evil grin cracking his face. “But now Brenna knows something’s up, too.”
Great. If Drew was nosy, then Bren was relentless. “You have no life, Drew.”
“Then you won’t mind if I stick my nose into yours.”
Mercy lay in bed way past her usual wake-up time, staring at the ceiling of her cabin. She was sore as heck, marked up with bites, scratches, and bruises, and she felt like purring. Not that she’d tell him—ever—but Riley knew what he was doing in bed. Or on the forest floor.
The wolf had not only ridden her into damn near unconsciousness, he’d given her the best orgasms of her life. And that was plain embarrassing. Her best sex had been with a wolf. Pathetic. Except her body was telling her to shut up and wallow. ’Cause this felt gooooood. Good enough that she might even want to repeat it.
“No,” she told herself the instant the thought reared its head. “Once—and most of the night definitely counts as once—you can write off as a mistake. But you do this again and he’s going to start thinking he has rights over you.” She knew predatory changeling men. They liked control. They particularly liked their women to submit. And Riley was one big giant hunk of testosterone-fueled Neanderthal wolf—he probably thought her submission was his right. She snorted. “Not in this lifetime.”
Groaning as her muscles protested, she turned. She’d had a shower last night, but a hot bath was unquestionably in order. And a massage. One of her packmates would be happy to give her the latter out of simple friendship, but if they did, they’d see the marks on her body.
She could imagine their reaction when they found out she’d been getting down and dirty with a wolf. The SnowDancers were their allies, but leopard and wolf didn’t easily mix. True friendship would take one heck of a long time. And, though she’d had great sex with Riley—okay, hot, monkey, freakin’ wonderful sex—he wasn’t her friend, either.
Most of the time, he irritated the hell out of her just by breathing.
She jumped as the comm panel beeped. It was an effort to stretch out a hand from the warm cocoon of her bed and pick up the portable handset. “Yeah?”
“Turn on the visual, Mercy.”
All laziness fled. “Gran?”
“Of course it’s me. Now, the visual. Hurry up, girl. Your grandfather’s waiting so we can squeeze in some horizontal tango time before a meeting.”
Mercy blushed. “I so didn’t need that image in my head. And no visual—I’m naked.” What she was, was worried that her eagle-eyed grandmother would spot the bite mark Riley had left on her neck.
“You haven’t got anything I haven’t,” her grandmother said.
“Gran.” She smiled despite herself. “I’m not one of your pack, so don’t act the alpha with me.” Her maternal grandmother led the AzureSun pack down in Brazil. Isabella’s sentinels had stood by her as she aged, because it wasn’t always about strength with changelings—age and experience counted just as much. Not that her grandmother wasn’t also in phenomenally good shape.
“I don’t act the alpha, Mercy girl. I am alpha.” It was said with the calm confidence of a woman who knew exactly who she was and didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought. “And this alpha has a present for you.”
Every single cell in Mercy’s body went on high alert. “Gran? What did you do?”
“Don’t sound so worried, darling. I know you said you couldn’t leave your pack to come see if one of my sentinels might work as a mate, but we’re pretty calm down here so I’m sending Eduardo and Joaquin up to you.”
Oh. Dear. God. “Gran, you don’t need to play matchmaker. I already found someone.” To have wild sex with, but she didn’t think her grandmother needed to hear that part.
“Really?” A sharp sound. “Less dominant?”
Say my name, kitty.
Her claws sliced out, threatening to destroy the sheets. “No.”
“Is he your mate?”
The leopard snarled at the idea. “We’ve only just—”
“Then there’s no harm in having a wider field to choose from.”
Mercy was all but strangling the handset. “Gran, I seriously don’t need any help. Don’t send your sentinels up here.” Dodging two undoubtedly determined males was not her idea of a good time. Especially not when the only man her body seemed to crave was a wolf she’d threatened to kill more than once.
“Too late,” Isabella said. “I cleared it with Lucas days ago—my men are probably already in your territory. And if they don’t work out, I have several other unmated sentinels who all think you’d make an excellent mate.”
Mercy thumped her forehead with a fist. “I’m sending them straight back. I don’t need the complication.”
“Of course you do, dear. And if the man you’re seeing can’t handle a little competition, he should get out of the game.” Her voice changed, became pure alpha. “You need a tough man, Mercy. Otherwise, you’ll stomp on his heart and eat it for breakfast.”
“Thanks.”
“Fact of life, kitten.” A muffled whisper. “Speaking of tough men, your grandfather is out of patience. I’ll talk to you after you meet Eduardo and Joaquin.”
She was about to put the handset on the bed stand when it came back to life in her hand. This time, she checked the caller ID. “Lucas? What’s up?”
“I need you to run a check out by the Grove. Something’s there that shouldn’t be.”
Her mind shifted into sentinel mode. “Like last time?” Then, it had been a wounded Psy defector they’d found. The aftermath had almost gotten both Dorian and Ashaya killed.
“No”—Lucas’s voice was grim—“tip was, there’s a dead smell in the air.”
CHAPTER 4
Ice water in her veins. “Psy, human, or changeling?”
“No confirmation—call me the second you know,” he said. “One of the SnowDancers is already on the way to join you.”
“Why?” Her leopard bristled. “The Grove’s in our territory.”
“It was one of their juveniles who sensed something off when he passed through—”
“Hah,” Mercy said. “He probably came down to do mischief.” As DarkRiver’s official liaison to SnowDancer, there wasn’t much she didn’t know about the little turf war the cat and wolf juveniles—and young adults—were having. An
ything that involved both packs and didn’t need an alpha’s attention went through her . . . and Riley. The bite mark on her neck tingled in sensory memory—she could all but feel his lips, his teeth against her sensitized flesh.
“Anything serious I need to worry about?”
Snapping back to the present, she shook her head. “No, they’re just blowing off steam, trying to figure out the hierarchy between themselves.” Both DarkRiver and SnowDancer ran disciplined packs—the younger members knew exactly how far they could go. “Maybe I can beat the SnowDancer to the Grove.”
“We’re allies.” Lucas sounded very patient. “Be nice.”
She knew he traded barbs with Hawke, the SnowDancer alpha, every time they met. “I will if you will.”
“Shut up. I’m your alpha. Go look and see what’s up.”
Hanging up with a grin that quickly faded as she considered what she might find, she hurried to throw some water on her face—the bath would have to wait until she had a few hours to relax. Though her muscles were still a little sore, it was nothing that would hold her back. She was a sentinel for a reason—she was fit, lethal, and well able to take down most men twice her size.
Not including Riley.
Her teeth bared at the way he’d pinned her—maybe she’d enjoyed it last night, but if the wolf tried to use that to change the balance of power in the sentinel-lieutenant relationship between them, things would get seriously ugly.
Her mind filled with images of him blocking her punches, trying not to hurt her. She squelched the tiny tendril of warmth that threatened to rise to the surface. Because if there was one thing she knew about predatory changeling men, it was that they weren’t good with boundaries—if she gave an inch, he’d take a whole country mile, start trying to protect her in the field.
Scowling at the thought, she wiped off her face, took a second to cover up a certain mark, then scraped her hair back into a high, tight ponytail before dressing in jeans, a plain white tee, and boots. Her cell phone was on the night table and she grabbed it on the way out, sticking it in her back pocket. The autumn air tasted crisp, sweet, almost too cold. She drew it into her lungs as she ran, ceding control to the leopard though she remained in human form. It knew instinctively where to put its feet, when to duck, when to switch direction because an easier path lay a little bit to the left or right.
It just felt like being.
Despite the bleak nature of what lay ahead, she was smiling when the first hint of scent hit her nose. Her stride faltered as she crossed into the large tract of land known as the Grove. “God would not be that cruel.” But he was.
Because there was Riley, running to meet her from the opposite direction. His expression was the by-now-familiar impassive one—the one that made her want to needle him simply to get a reaction. If she hadn’t seen that same face violent with passion, she’d have thought him an android. And for a predatory male changeling, especially one as dominant as Riley, that was some act to pull off.
“Coincidence?” she asked with saccharine sweetness.
His eyes—dark, intense, extraordinarily focused—went to her neck. “You can’t heal a bite that fast.” Cool words, but his jaw was a brutally hard line.
“Maybe I can.” And maybe she had really good concealer. “Let’s do this.” She swept left as he went right. “Anything?” she asked as they met on the other side of the rough circle.
“No. Another sweep.”
She growled at him. “I know what I’m doing. Don’t give me orders.”
Those oh-so-calm eyes didn’t so much as narrow. “Fine.” And he was gone.
That pissed her off. Which, she realized, was precisely the result he’d intended. Riley knew exactly how to push her buttons. Like he took a damn degree in antagonizing—She froze, sniffed the air, and picked up a scent that tied her stomach in knots. “Damn.” Putting two fingers to her mouth, she whistled.
Riley arrived a minute later. “Some kind of cat,” he said the instant he got close.
“Changeling lynx.” Crouching to confirm the scent, she shook her head . . . and caught a vague whiff of the “dead” smell that had freaked out the juvenile. Her soul chilled, even as the leopard whispered that that scent had never belonged to a person. “She’s here because there’s a wild lynx population in the area.”
Riley’s shoulders locked, his hands fisting. “She’s gone rogue.”
“I hope it’s not too late.” Mercy swallowed and rose to her feet. Rogues were changelings who’d surrendered absolutely to the beast, submerging their human half. If they’d turned into pure animals, it wouldn’t have mattered so much—yes, it would’ve broken hearts, but the lost ones would’ve been allowed to live out their lives in peace. But rogues were smarter, faster, quicker. And they liked hunting those they had once called family. But this one . . . “It’s a kid, Riley.”
The wolf looked at her out of Riley’s eyes. “You know her?”
“Willow’s family had to get the okay to be in our territory.” Predatory changelings had very strict rules. It kept the peace. And the most basic rule was—no going into another predator’s territory without permission. “Her parents work for a company that relocated to Tahoe.”
“How old is Willow?”
“Eight, I think.” She drew in a deep breath, attempting to locate the source of the fading spray of blood and death. “Something has to have happened to her parents.” She pulled out her cell and coded in a call to Lucas as they started following Willow’s trail.
“Mercy, you found—”
“It’s Willow,” she told him. “You need to get someone to check out the Baker house.”
Lucas swore under his breath. “Nathan drove out that way early this morning. I’ll get him to go in.”
She hung up as Riley motioned he was going left. Nodding, she went leopard-quiet as she circled right, sensing Willow was close. But it wasn’t the girl she found. It was the body of what had been a small wild dog. Small, but muscled. “She’s very close to the point of no return if she did this.” Thank God it was a true animal, not a changeling. If the girl had killed a person . . . There was no coming back from that.
Riley crouched down beside her. “Girl didn’t eat the flesh. This was pure rage.”
“Poor baby.” Her heart clenched—what could’ve driven a little girl to this? “She can’t be far. The scent’s too strong.” Making a quick decision, Mercy began to pull off her boots. “I’ll have an easier time with her if I shift.”
Riley nodded. “I’ll stay downwind.”
“Good idea.” A wolf would either terrify or antagonize the girl in her current state of mind. “Turn around.” Changelings weren’t prudes about nudity, but now that Riley had seen her naked in very intimate circumstances . . . well, things were different. And that irritated her. “I said, turn around.”
He folded his arms and leaned against a tree, those chocolate-dark eyes watching her with unblinking focus.
Oh yeah, Riley knew just what buttons to push. But she wasn’t a cat for nothing. “Fine.” Shrugging, she ignored him to strip with changeling efficiency, balling up her clothes and shoes to cache in the tree.
“I’ll do that.” Riley’s voice sounded from behind her. Then he put his hand on her shoulder.
Sizzle.
The electricity generated by that simple contact continued to rock through her, even as she whacked off his hand. “No touching.” The cat swiped at her, wanting more, but she gritted her teeth and held on, knowing if she didn’t set the ground rules now, Riley would push and push until something snapped. The man did obsession better than several of the leopards she knew.
“Give me the clothes.” His anger was quiet, a gathering storm beneath the smooth surface he showed to the world.
Figuring he’d had an unwelcome surprise in her refusal to allow skin privileges, she thrust her things into his hands—“Fine, knock yourself out”—and shifted. Agony and ecstasy, pure pleasure and excruciating pain. All over in an instan
t.
Riley knelt down, clasping the fur at the back of her neck. “You’re fucking bruised all down your back. Why the hell didn’t you tell me it hurt?”
Because it didn’t at the time, genius. Snapping her teeth at him, she pulled away and headed toward the lynx. She was aware of Riley falling slightly behind as he took care of caching her clothes, and then his scent faded altogether. Which reminded her. The girl would hardly appreciate sensing Riley in her fur. She paused to roll around in some fresh leaves, crushing them to overlay his scent with the mingled echoes of the forest.
That done, she made her way very, very carefully to the little grove that appeared to be the end of the scent trail.
The wild lynx saw her first. They greeted her with soft growls and went about their business when she made no “go away” sounds. Willow was sitting in the middle of a group of lynx cubs. Except she was bigger, her eyes different, unique. The way she held herself, the way she smelled, it all marked her as changeling. Walking over, Mercy batted away the other cubs, careful not to do harm.
They padded off, though an impish few tried to nip at her legs. One growl and they scattered. Willow didn’t move. That alone set her apart. Instead of challenging the girl, Mercy sat down beside her, crowding her against a tree. Willow’s little frame was cool against Mercy’s side, her heartbeat not as ragged as it should’ve been.
The poor cub was in shock.
Mercy just sat there, let Willow know she was safe, protected by someone bigger and stronger who wouldn’t hurt her. It took time but that shocky little body eventually relaxed a fraction. Then another. She felt the girl snuggle into her and breathed a sigh of relief—if Willow recognized and saw comfort in her, then she wasn’t beyond saving.
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