Play of Passion p-9

by Nalini Singh

  “Do I want to know?”

  “No. Nothing to tell yet.” The dark-haired male looked out over the glittering sun-struck water of the bay. “My animal knows it can swim,” he murmured, “but just the same, neither it nor the human part of me is too fond of the water.”

  “Then why San Francisco?”

  A shrug. “We’d been scraping by, trying to find a home for a long time, and the old subway tunnels were unclaimed.” A whisper of wind ruffled his GQ-perfect hair. “Good thing it was the cats who found us out. You wolves would’ve probably decided we tasted good spit-roasted over an open fire.”

  “No self-respecting wolf would eat a rodent—though we might’ve been able to use your teeth as decorations,” Andrew said with a straight face.

  Teijan hissed out a very unratlike snarl. “Why the hell do I bother to talk to you?”

  “Hawke thinks I give you cheese.” He pulled a small, foil-wrapped wedge out of his pocket. “Here you go.”

  “Fuck you.” But the Rat alpha was laughing. “Why’d you want to meet?”

  Putting both hands in the pockets of his jacket, Andrew let the salt-laced wind sweep across his face. “Wanted to see if you had any news to share.” DarkRiver always copied SnowDancer in on any reports as per their alliance, but Teijan quite often had little tidbits in progress that he didn’t put into the reports until he’d confirmed everything.

  “Something weird going on with the Psy,” the Rat alpha now said. “Can’t quite put my finger on it, but if I didn’t know better, I’d say they were jumpy.”

  Since Psy didn’t feel, that kind of apprehension was more than curious. “Anything to back up that feeling?” he asked, knowing Teijan had finely developed antennae for trouble after keeping his people safe and protected for years in spite of their lack of numbers and physical strength.

  Teijan made a clicking noise with his tongue. “I’ve heard whispers of two or three Psy dead in suspicious circumstances, but no confirmations yet. Could just be a bad rehabilitation or two.”

  Andrew felt his skin creep at the thought of the Psy punishment of choice—a total psychic brainwipe that destroyed the individual and left a drooling shell behind. “Maybe they suicided.” At Teijan’s glance, he shrugged. “If that was me . . .”

  “Yeah.” Teijan blew out a breath. “But word is there’s nobody home after rehab, and there would have to be for them to understand what they’d become.” He glanced at his watch. “I better get going. I’ll send the intel through the grapevine if I hear anything else.”

  As Andrew watched the other man leave, he wondered what face this world would’ve worn if the Psy Council had been successful in seizing total power as it had been trying to do for decades.

  The vision was chilling.

  “Drew?”

  Shaking off the brutal images, he shifted on his heel to find himself facing Lara. “You must’ve come down before the shops opened,” he said, looking at the bags she had in hand.

  “I’m in a bad mood,” she said. “I decided to work it off by spending money, but I hate everything I’ve bought. Who needs a stupid yellow dress anyway? Not someone with my skin tone.” That skin, a natural dark tan stroked with gold in this light, scrunched up as she made a face.

  “I think you’ll look gorgeous in yellow.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, cuddling her smaller body to his. Like most people in the den, he tended to forget she wasn’t that much older than he was, she was so competent. But today she looked unbearably young. “This bad mood have anything to do with—”

  “Don’t go there,” she warned, even as she slid her own arm around his waist, the soft black of her corkscrew curls glinting with sparks of red. “And I won’t hassle you about Indigo.”

  He froze. “How the hell do you healers pull that shit?”

  “Trade secret.” A hint of a smile, those high cheekbones giving her eyes an almost feline appearance as she glanced up. “How come she’s so mad at you?” she asked with a blunt honesty that reminded him of Ben, the pup the healer often babysat for her friend Ava.

  “Not telling.”

  She scrunched her nose at him. “You going to do anything about it?”

  Andrew thought of the plan he’d hatched late last night. “Oh, yeah, I’m going to do something about it.” And the lieutenant would never see it coming.

  CHAPTER 8

  Having said good-bye to her mother a few minutes earlier, Indigo found Hawke and they sat down to coordinate the pack’s resources. “We have a lieutenant meeting later today,” she said toward the end.

  “I remember.” Rising from his desk, he folded his arms, unfolded them, then shoved his hands through his hair, hair that echoed the stunning color of his pelt in wolf form. Right now, that wolf was riding him hard.

  “Want to go for a run?” she asked, feeling more than a little twitchy herself. “We could both use it.”

  The fact that Hawke didn’t even bother to pretend he didn’t need to let the wolf roam told her more than anything else. “Wolf or human?” he asked, his voice shifting in a way that made it clear the wolf was already in charge. His eyes, too, shimmered in the most subtle of ways—the wolf watching her from a human face.

  “Human wolf,” she said, “it’s harder to maintain.”

  “Let’s go.”

  By the time they cleared the den, her wolf was at the forefront of her mind. She was still physically human, but her thought processes were no longer those of the cool, collected lieutenant. They were of the wolf who lived in her soul—of her body, only her eyes would’ve reflected the change. Though as they began to run, she felt her claws pricking at the insides of her skin and decided to let them slice through.

  They ran side by side, getting out of the White Zone and into the thick darkness of the forest beyond, the trees whipping by in a blur of rich green and—as they began to climb higher—the occasional splash of snowy white. She was damn fast, but she knew Hawke could’ve outstripped her. It wasn’t simply that he was alpha—though that played a part in it. Her own wolf didn’t want to outstrip him, would’ve been confused if it could. But a larger part of it was that he was naturally faster.

  But she was making him work for it, and that was what was important. It was a lieutenant’s job to challenge her alpha when necessary—as it was an alpha’s job to look after his pack. So Indigo ran them both to the edge of exhaustion, flying over fallen rocks and old trees, branches grazing her arms and threatening to slap her face, the wind a crisp knife across her skin.

  Her wolf gloried in the rush of speed, the pump of blood, the wild pleasure of running with a packmate. It was only when they reached the top of a ridge, when there was only silence around them, the pack lands spread out below in a sea of white, green, and lake blue, that the wolf sighed and halted. Hawke stood with his hands on his knees beside her, chest heaving and face gleaming with sweat.

  Glancing at him, she saw his wolf grinning back at her, the shimmering ice of his eyes filled with fierce joy. She grinned back, allowing herself to collapse onto her back on the snow-dusted grass, the chill a welcome kiss against her heated skin. The sky was a gorgeous crystalline blue overhead, Hawke’s eyes a curious and much paler hue as he looked down at her, his head angled in a way that was simply not human.

  She snapped her teeth at him.

  It made him laugh, relax, and lie down beside her, their arms companionably tangled. “So,” he said, his voice holding the edge of a growl.

  “So,” she replied, her own wolf prowling contentedly inside her skin.

  Shifting, Hawke raised himself on his elbow before leaning down to nip at her lower lip in a quick, sharp bite.

  With those amazing eyes, and that gorgeous mane of silver-gold, many women would’ve taken what he’d done as a sensual invitation. She was wolf. She knew that coming from her alpha, it was very much the opposite.

  Rubbing at her lip, she scowled. “What did I do?” Because it had been a rebuke. A playful one, sure, but a rebuke non
etheless.

  Hawke tapped her on the nose with his index finger. “My wolf can sense that yours is in trouble. Why didn’t you come to me?”

  “It’s nothing,” she said, pushing him away with a growl when he would’ve used his teeth on her a second time. Yes, he was alpha, but she was a dominant female. “Correction—it is something, but it’s not anything I need your help to manage.” Drew was her problem, and she would get a handle on the situation.

  Bracing himself on his elbow again, Hawke watched her for several more minutes, the eye contact searing. His wolf was far closer to the surface than that of any other male in the pack, and she was one of the few people who probably knew why. Reaching up, she clenched a hand in his hair and tugged him down until their noses almost touched. “I’m not the only one who’s got a problem.”

  He growled at her. She let him feel her claws against his face. Ice blue eyes locked with her own. “You know what it is,” he finally said, his voice so deep it was difficult to understand. Rolling away from her, he lay on his back with one arm under his head.

  Yeah, Indigo knew what it was. “She’s far older now than she was when she first entered the den.”

  Hawke said nothing. He didn’t need to—she could all but feel his thrumming tension.

  “No one’s going to stop you if you decide to—”

  Hawke was suddenly leaning over her in one of those electric snaps of movement, his wolf very much in charge. “Riley made it clear she was off-limits.”

  Indigo knew her fellow lieutenant had issued that warning not simply because Sienna was family and thus his to protect, but because the girl had needed time to come into her own before she had to pit the strength of her personality against Hawke’s.

  “Then, she was.” She stroked her fingers through his hair because he needed the touch of Pack. “Now . . . she’s stronger. I’m not saying she’s ready for the full Hawke assault”—her wolf bared its teeth when he growled—“but she can take a little bit.” That said more about Indigo’s judgment of Sienna Lauren than anything else—because there were very few women on the planet who she thought might be able to handle Hawke.

  The fact that the top contender was an eighteen-heading-for-nineteen-year-old Psy defector was one hell of a surprise, but that didn’t mean they should just ignore the subject and hope it went away. Especially not when the girl seemed to reach parts of Hawke no one else could even see.

  Indigo knew what Hawke had said to Riley when the subject came up last time, waited to see if he would reject the idea out of hand again. As she watched, he flowed to his feet and went to crouch at the edge of the cliff, his back and hair dusted with ice crystals that glittered in the sunlight. “We should get back,” he said after several long minutes, his voice human once more.

  Indigo didn’t push. This was a decision Hawke would have to make on his own. Because once made, she knew that decision would be final and absolute. If he decided to pursue Sienna . . . Sucking in a breath, Indigo promised herself she’d warn the girl if and when the time came—because no woman should have to face that kind of a campaign unprepared.

  In spite of his determination to keep his distance, Andrew found himself following the compulsion to track down Indigo as soon as he returned to the den—only to be told that she’d gone running with Hawke.

  Images of what they might be doing at that moment slammed into him without warning. Indigo was the highest-ranking female in the den. Only two people outranked her. Riley, who was happily mated to Mercy. And Hawke.

  Who was very definitely not mated.

  Claws digging into his palms, he shut himself inside his room and tried to fight the buzzing in his head, to think. That proved close to impossible. No matter all his plans, all his instructions to himself, he might’ve gone off half-cocked and made a fool of himself if his cell phone hadn’t rung at that moment.

  He answered without looking at the caller ID. “Andrew speaking.”

  “How’s everything in the den?” came Riley’s familiar voice.

  “Relax, big brother.” Andrew tried for a breezy tone. “We’re managing to limp along without you.”

  A small pause. “What’s wrong?”

  Ah, hell. His oldest sibling knew him better than anyone else—there was no way he’d buy a bullshit answer. “I have a question. Have Indigo and Hawke ever . . .” Acid burned in his gut as he gave voice to a possibility he’d never even considered before.

  Another, longer pause. “No. Never.”

  Andrew collapsed into a sitting position on the bed. “Now you have to forget I ever asked you that question.”

  Other wolves might have teased, but Riley handled it in his own way. “Piece of advice—don’t ever let Indigo catch even a hint that you had that particular thought. The asinine stupidity of it will outweigh any gains you make.”

  Andrew winced. “I’m not making many gains right now.”

  “When you were a kid,” Riley said, “it was impossible to make you let go of a toy once you’d clamped your teeth on it.”

  “Indigo’s hardly a toy.” No, what she was, was a tough, intelligent woman who would fall easily into no man’s arms—least of all one she was determined to think of as off-limits.

  “The point,” Riley said dryly, “is that you’re even more stubborn than I am—just takes people a hell of a lot longer to figure it out.”

  That suddenly, Andrew’s brain started functioning again. Smiling at the thought of sinking his teeth into Indigo—not to hurt, just to mark a little—he said, “How’s the vacation going?”

  “Mercy’s grandparents want cubs or pups to spoil—they’re not fussy which. Tomorrow would be nice, but they’re willing to give us a whole entire year to ‘get down to the business.’” Riley’s tone was deadpan, but Andrew didn’t miss the way his voice softened when he spoke of children.

  Mercy’s grandparents, he thought, might just get their wish sooner rather than later. “Brenna’s out with Judd,” he said aloud, “but you should be able to get her on her cell. I know she wants to catch up with you.” Having effectively raised both Andrew and Brenna, Riley was, for want of a better word, the patriarch of the Kincaid family. Even Brenna’s assassin of a mate treated Riley with quiet respect. They all missed him—and his rock-solid advice—when he wasn’t in the den.

  “I’ll give her a quick call.” A rustle. “Mercy says to tell you she hopes you’re behaving.”

  Smiling at the thought of Riley’s fiery mate, Andrew said, “Not a bit.”

  Mercy came on the line an instant later. “Did I hear you say something about Indigo?”

  “Mercy,” Andrew began.

  “No, no, I’m not going to meddle. But I am going to give you a little advice in return for something important you said to me once, so listen up.”

  Not having been born stupid, no matter his recent actions, Andrew did just that.

  “Don’t be anyone but who you are,” the leopard sentinel told him. “It’ll give you the element of surprise when you pounce.”

  On the surface, it was a lighthearted comment, but Andrew saw it for the truth it was. How had Mercy known? he thought. How had she guessed that his confidence had been badly dented by the knowledge that he was so much not what Indigo had in mind for her mate? However she’d known, he was grateful for the boost. “Thanks, Mercy.”

  “What can I say—you remind me of the fiends I call brothers.” An affectionate comment. “’Bye, Drew.”

  Hanging up after replying in kind, he took a deep breath and fired off a quick e-mail to Hawke with his notes on what Teijan had shared. And though the temptation to track down Indigo was a fever in his gut, he set his jaw and went to the weight room, funneling his need into the physical. Because when he, as Mercy had put it, “pounced,” he wanted Indy all to himself, no avenues of escape, no buffer of pack.

  CHAPTER 9

  In spite of her earlier run with Hawke, Indigo couldn’t quite find her balance at that afternoon’s lieutenant meeting. She told h
erself it had nothing to do with the fact that she’d seen Drew only minutes ago, his hair damp with sweat and his arm around Lucy as the sunny-natured young female hugged him affectionately.

  Women loved Drew. No wonder he’d thought he could get Indigo into bed with so little trouble—and then pick up right where they’d left off, as if he hadn’t fundamentally altered the nature of the relationship between them. Her wolf bared its fangs at the idea of being lumped in with his little playmates until she had to consciously fight for control. It was as well that she was sitting in a special comm room surrounded by SnowDancer lieutenants.

  Because of the breadth of SnowDancer territory, it was rare for all the lieutenants to meet in person. However, they had monthly meetings by comm-conference and each lieutenant passed through the den at least once every two months, which ensured the pack continued to function as a cohesive unit. Hawke, too, made trips to each part of their territory on a regular basis. Then there was Drew, who, with the support of his small and tight-knit team, roamed across the state on an as-needed basis.

  Gritting her teeth as the damn wolf intruded into her thoughts once again, she looked up and focused on the screens set up in a semicircle around the room. The computronic setup allowed all of them to interact with each other at such an effective level that they often forgot they weren’t actually in the same physical location.

  Jem—real name Garnet—had logged in from Los Angeles and was currently trading barbs with the startlingly green-eyed Kenji, something the two of them did so often, there was a running pool on exactly when they’d rip each other’s clothes off and just get it over with.

  Alexei and Matthias were watching, quiet as always. Those two only moved when necessary, and they spoke even less most of the time. Of the two, Alexei, with his sun gold hair and movie star looks, was probably the more talkative—which meant he spoke maybe two words an hour instead of one.