by Nalini Singh
The wolf in the passenger seat stared at her out of human eyes. “No questions even now?”
Surprised he’d brought it up, she shrugged. “Some promises you don’t even think of breaking.” He’d trusted her with his pain last night, and she knew just how difficult that kind of trust was for him. The leopard had been startled by it . . . but that startlement was growing into something stronger, something that threatened the distance she was trying to keep.
Riley opened his mouth as if to reply when something beeped into the silence. Taking out his cell phone, he checked the message and swore.
She tore her mind away from the implications of the previous night. Because she’d let him in. And that, too, was a rare kind of trust. “What?”
“Nothing. Just kids being stupid.” He stuck the phone back into his pocket. “I have to go bust some heads up at the den.”
“Why do you have to be the one to hand out punishment?”
“Because the kids got caught hatching a plan to toilet-paper Jon. Not Jon’s home. Jon.” He sounded like he had a spike being driven into his eyeballs. “And since I’m the DarkRiver liaison, Judd finds it highly amusing to make me deal with it.”
Mercy moaned. “Oh, God.” Jon had been adopted into DarkRiver by Clay and Tally a few months back. He’d not only fit right in, he’d become the undisputed leader of his age group—and Jon wasn’t changeling, which said something about his skills. “Jon probably did something first.”
“And didn’t get caught.” Riley shook his head. “I wish this lot would’ve been better at hiding their tracks.” His eyes glimmered amber when he glanced at her. “Where are the South Americans?”
Her leopard bared its teeth in a soundless growl at the unwelcome change in topic. “Don’t know. Don’t care.” Though she had every intention of making her opinion of the pair clear to her grandmother. “And those two have nothing to do with whether or not we share skin privileges.”
Riley snorted. “Please. Your grandmother threw them at you because there’s a high chance your mate will be a dominant leopard.”
“What’s that to you?” It came out without thought, and she wasn’t sure if it was a warning or a dare.
His phone beeped again before he could answer. Riley checked it with a grimace. “You’ll have to come up with me.”
“Hey, wolves are yours to deal with.” She meant to have a hard chat with Eduardo and Joaquin during that time. No one was going to push her into a situation she didn’t choose. “I have enough—”
“They had Jon duct-taped to a tree. Judd just sprung him—but he was found with a suspicious amount of itching powder in his pockets. And several of the wolf juveniles have been squirming for hours.”
Mercy wanted to beat herself with a blunt object. “Please, God. Kill me now.”
“I’d rather work out my frustration by stripping you naked and letting you use those claws on me.”
And that quickly, all she wanted to do was to crawl all over him.
CHAPTER 16
At a quiet meeting room in the sunken city of Venice, four women and five men sat around a long, dark table. Outside the windows situated flush against the dome that kept this city and its inhabitants from drowning, water lapped in a gentle, blue-green wash. But inside, the quiet was sharp, spiked with the knife-edge of tension.
Two of the chairs around the table lay empty. Aurine and Douglas had both walked away during the discussion of the latest operation, unwilling and unable to see the long-range nature of the plans they’d helped develop. The chairman was frustrated by their lack of vision, but then, perhaps it was better they were gone—Aurine, in particular, had been vociferous in her opposition to the Nash Baker operation. She’d undoubtedly have used this opportunity to push for a less militant approach.
“Bowen’s team has gone under,” the chairman told the others. “But they’re not our primary concern—I sent the information about the target with a brand-new team, yet Bowen and his people managed to acquire and act on that information before the others even arrived in the city.”
“The leak—could it be Aurine?” another man asked. “She was vocal about her disagreement.”
“No,” a third man responded. “She’s a woman of her word—I’ve had enough business dealings with her to appreciate that.”
“Douglas?”
“Too weak,” one of the women murmured. “He was on the board because he had money, not balls.”
Some of the men grimaced, but the chairman nodded. “Which means it’s either one of us, or there’s a leak in our offices. I intend to plug that leak.” A statement that carried the menacing darkness of a threat.
“Go ahead.” This came from the same woman who’d spoken earlier. “But don’t try to play the big man.” A disdainful sniff. “You may have delusions of grandeur but this is a group effort. If you can’t understand that, you shouldn’t be here.”
The chairman blinked, taken by surprise, though he hid it well. “Of course. I’d never presume otherwise. But you did ask me to be in charge of security matters—it’s my job to close the breach.”
And he would close it. No one was going to stand in the way of his vision—by the time this was over, humanity would rule . . . and see him as their god. Even if he had to paint the streets with Psy and changeling blood.
CHAPTER 17
The situation in the SnowDancer den turned out not to be as bad as Mercy had feared. Lucas had come up with Hawke so they could discuss the Alliance matter more in depth, and Sascha had accompanied him for reasons of her own. As a result, a suitably chastened Jon was sitting in the “brig” when they got back.
“Why does he look like he swallowed raw eggs?” Mercy asked Sascha, after she found her alpha’s mate in front of said brig. One cell held wolf juveniles, the other, Jon. Now that she thought about it, every single miscreant looked prune faced. “What did you do to all of them?”
Sascha gave her a beatific smile as they walked out into the corridor and began to head south. “They had to say one nice thing about each other. Jon had to say a nice thing about every single wolf he dusted with that powder.”
Mercy’s leopard grinned. “I like this new evil side of you.” The nature of Sascha’s gift meant she couldn’t hurt anyone without hurting along with that person. That didn’t mean her spine wasn’t forged out of unadulterated steel. “I had wild monkey sex with Riley.” The speed with which it came out told her, her subconscious had simply been waiting for the chance.
Sascha almost tripped over her own feet. “Oh.” A pause as she glanced around the corridor and lowered her voice. “Lucas mentioned it but . . . really? You and Riley?”
“Oh, yeah.” Mercy rubbed her face. “I can’t believe I just told you. It means I’m thinking of doing it again.”
“Was it good?” Sascha slapped a hand over her mouth, cardinal eyes wide with mortification. “I’ve been living too long with cats. That was a horribly nosy question.”
“It was fantastic,” Mercy answered. “Fan-fucking-tastic. I want more. It’s making me insane.”
“What’s stopping you from . . . ?”
“Aside from the fact that he’s a wolf?” She raised an eyebrow. “And I’m a cat? There’s all sorts of wrong there.”
“Mercy, don’t try and snow me. Changelings aren’t animals. You’re human, too. And there’s nothing wrong with a strong woman like you finding Riley attractive.”
Mercy reached up to redo her ponytail. “You know how predatory changeling men are.” But now she knew he was more than that—she’d felt the depth of his hurt, seen a glimmer of a heart so strong, it made the leopard hunger to be invited in.
“You’re hardly a cream puff.” Sascha’s expression filled with mischief. “I don’t think Riley’s going to know what hit him.”
A shiver sizzled down her spine even as she grinned at Sascha’s comment. Glancing instinctively to the right, she saw Riley heading out from the area where the boys were contained. “Finished?”
>
“This time.” He looked at Sascha. “They’re calling you the Devil Incarnate.”
Smile wide, Sascha dusted off her hands. “My work here is done.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go see Toby,” she said, mentioning Judd’s nephew, “and then I’d better go rescue Hawke and Lucas from each other. You two going to sit in on this meeting?”
“I might swing by, see if they need us for anything,” Mercy said. “After that, I’m gonna go for a long run, clear my head.” There was too much crap clogging her up—the Human Alliance going suddenly psychotic, juveniles acting up now of all times, and this damn, unquenchable thirst for Riley “the Wall” Kincaid. They’d been antagonists for so long, the increasing complexity of her feelings for him kept catching her unawares.
Riley didn’t say anything as he accompanied her to Hawke’s office, which didn’t surprise her. The wolf could be very quiet when he was thinking—and strange as it was, she’d come to be comfortable with his silences. Because Riley never stopped being there, his focus as absolute as always.
Hawke was picking up a call as they walked in. Mercy leaned over the back of Lucas’s chair, intending to ask if he needed her to do anything before she headed down, but Hawke swore, sailor-harsh, before she could get a word out. She looked up to find his face a mask of anger and, oddly, pity.
“Send it through,” he said, and flicked on the comm panel to their left.
The screen filled with the image of a golden-blond SnowDancer soldier. “We found him collapsed on the edge of the cliff. Looks like he was trying to crawl over it. Hold on.” The soldier turned his cell phone so they could see the rough tent that had been rigged a few feet away. Getting closer, he lifted the edge of the canvas to reveal the male who lay unconscious inside.
“He’s covered in blood, and as far as we can tell he’s continuing to bleed from the nose and ears.” A pause. “Jem says it looks like the fine veins in his eyes are starting to go as well. We don’t have the resources to treat him—I’ve called an Evac unit, but I don’t think it’ll get him to a hospital in time.”
“Anything to tell us who he is?” Hawke asked.
“Full ID in the pocket—Samuel Rain, a robotics expert employed at Psion Research.”
“That’s a Psy company,” Mercy muttered. “He Psy?”
“Doesn’t have the smell,” was the response. “But from the density of his bones, I’d say so. One more thing—he had a loaded semiautomatic in the trunk of his car.”
Lucas tapped a finger on the arm of his chair. “We can get word to someone who might be able to get him out of there in time, get him directly to Psy medics.”
The SnowDancer alpha didn’t hesitate. “Do it. Jesus, what a way to freaking die.”
Mercy was already pulling out her cell phone, knowing exactly who Lucas was talking about. Anthony Kyriakus knew a very, very fast teleporter. “What are his precise coordinates?” Heading out of the office soon as she had that info, she made the call to Faith in private.
Riley met her eyes as she reentered. “Still keeping secrets?”
“Of course. Don’t tell me you share everything?” She returned her attention to the comm panel. “What would drive a Psy to throw himself off a cliff?”
“He probably didn’t want to use the gun,” Riley said with quiet pragmatism.
Lucas shoved a hand through his hair. “If this kind of thing is the outer edge, what’s going to happen when the PsyNet really fractures?”
“Hell on earth,” Hawke said, eyes on the screen.
“Whoa!” It came from the soldier on the cliff. “He’s gone.” He switched the camera to show the empty spot where the body had lain. “Fuck, that teleporter must be good to do it from a distance.”
Mercy agreed. She’d rarely seen a teleporter in action, but Sascha had told her that most needed contact with their “passenger.” “Well,” she said after the comm screen cleared, “I guess that’s that.”
“Do you think,” Hawke murmured, those pale wolf eyes contemplative, “they’d do the same for us if we were lying injured and bleeding in front of them?”
“Depends on the individual Psy,” Mercy answered, having some idea of how much Hawke despised most of the psychic race. “Lucky for this guy we aren’t the vicious animals the Council makes us out to be.”
Riley stirred beside her. “You need us the rest of the day?”
It was Lucas who answered. “No. Go . . . play.”
Hawke’s grim look turned wolf-wicked as Mercy narrowed her eyes at her alpha and left the room. She felt Riley exit beside her, though he didn’t say a word until they were back in the main corridors. “I guess the secret’s out.”
“What’re you talking about?” she said, the devil in her taking over. Seeing that bloody, broken body had been the final straw—she needed to decompress. And what better way than by teasing Riley?
“You,” he said, his voice dropping as she stopped and turned to face him, “and me.”
Her nipples hardened to aching points, but she made her expression dismissive. “Don’t flatter yourself.” She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and rocked back on her heels, decision made. Excitement was a taut bow inside her as she said, “I had an itch. You scratched it. End of story.”
A low growl that made her thighs clench. But she smiled and wiggled her fingers. “See ya later, wolfie.”
Riley was about to stalk after her when he belatedly realized he was no longer alone. Scenting the air, he found out how the intruder had snuck in under his defenses. His wolf didn’t consider his younger sister any kind of a threat. “Bren, don’t say a word.”
Brenna took one look at Riley’s face and bit back a laugh. Not fast enough. Her oldest brother turned to her with that look. The one that made everyone behave. But this time, she was laughing too hard to hold it in any longer.
Riley just waited until she’d gotten it out of her system before raising an eyebrow.
“You and Mercy. I love it!”
Silence.
She sniggered. “You wanted Little Miss Submissive and you got a DarkRiver sentinel.” Her giggles started again, deep in her throat.
“Brenna, I’m still your eldest brother.”
“And I’m mated to a big, bad Psy.” She put on her best annoying little-sister voice. “Plus you know you love me.”
“I know that right now, I wish I had some duct tape to put over your mouth.”
Oooh, that was interesting. Nobody really ever got to Riley. She knew he loved her to pieces, but even she had to prod and poke at him for a really long time before she got a reaction. “Mercy and Riley sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s-i—” She shrieked as he picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and strode toward her quarters.
Her laughter came unbidden. She was giddy with delight. Riley had always been mature, contained, but he’d also had a sense of quiet humor. He was the kind of man children loved because he was both patient and open. But he’d changed after her abduction, withdrawn all that warmth, become so hard that nothing seemed to reach him. She hated that. And she loved Mercy for refusing to allow Riley to be this stranger he’d turned into.
Her nostrils flared at the familiar scent of ice laced with something that was uniquely Judd.
“I assume you have a reason for manhandling my mate?” Cool words but his amusement was apparent.
“Riley likes Mercy,” she stage-whispered, trying to twist around to look at her mate. “But she told him that h—oomph.” Riley set her on her feet without warning.
She swayed, but Judd’s hands on her hips kept her upright. Pushing her hair off her face, she leaned into her sexy Psy mate and smirked at Riley. “Sooo . . .”
“Judd.” Riley ignored her. “You’re obviously not interesting enough for my sister—she’s got way too much time to poke her nose into other people’s business.”
Judd wrapped his arms around her from behind, his chin on her hair. “I’m more interested in you and Mercy.”
G
rowling—Riley actually growled—her big brother turned on his heel and left. Brenna waited until he was out of hearing distance to say, “I hope Mercy puts him through the wringer and brings him out whole on the other side.”
“He was changed by your abduction. He’ll never be who he was before.”
“I know.” She rubbed her cheek against his arm. “But I want him to learn to be happy again.”
A pause.
She waited, knowing her mate well enough to understand he was thinking things through. He was so logical that it delighted her each time he let go. And he had a habit of doing that in bed. Which reminded her, she needed to replace the iron headboard that had buckled under the force of his telekinesis last night. At least it had held up better than the wooden stuff. Hmm, maybe she should start thinking about futons.
“Your brother is used to being in charge,” Judd said at last. “So is Mercy.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
God but she loved his honesty, his willingness to show her everything he was. “Riley,” she said, turning to nuzzle at his throat, “has this image of a submissive female he’ll be able to pamper and protect, but he’d never be able to truly be who he is with that woman.” She shook her head. “He needs someone strong enough, tough enough, to refuse to put up with those walls he uses to keep everyone at a distance.”
Even if he was too stubborn to see it.
After waving at Riley, Mercy took off at the speed of light. It didn’t matter that Brenna had distracted him. She knew he’d come after her—she’d read the intent loud and clear on his face, in his scent.
It was why she’d pushed at him that way, picking at his possessive, territorial instincts—instincts she’d known would be running high after the events of the previous forty-eight hours. This time, he wouldn’t be satisfied by anything other than a hard, sweaty bout of either raw sex or violence. And she knew very well which he’d choose. Her leopard smiled at the challenge, even as the feminine core of her tightened, readying itself in expectation.