Kiss of Snow

Chapter 16

LARA SAT AT her desk in the infirmary, having stayed late to keep an eye on an elderly wolf who’d had a fall, but her mind wasn’t on the papers in front of her. She’d enjoyed tormenting Walker about her date with Kieran, but her amusement had faded the instant he’d left, to be replaced by a throbbing ache that mocked her attempt at getting over him.

The fact was, the attraction she felt toward Walker Lauren was no simple thing—it had been growing slowly ever since he entered the den, layer by layer, word by word. The more she learned about the man behind the reserved mask, the harder she fell. His rebuff had bruised those emotions, bruised them badly, but she’d been stupid to think they’d disappear just because she wanted them gone.

It didn’t surprise her how tempting it was to cling to the apparent jealousy that had driven him to seek her out. But even if she had read him right, she was certain the emotion wouldn’t make him change his mind—Walker wasn’t the kind of man who vacillated, and he’d been damn unequivocal that their single kiss had been a mistake.

However Lara, too, wasn’t a woman who made decisions lightly, and she’d made one to move on. And as her friend Ava had pointed out in her frank, no-nonsense way earlier today, Kieran might not have been a good fit for her, but he was the first man she’d gone out with in the past six months.

“You haven’t,” Ava had continued, “given any other man a chance to impact your feelings toward Walker.”

With that truth in mind, she called up a senior tech who’d asked her out three months ago, and set up a lunch date for the following day. Feeling good about his instant agreement, she was just hanging up when she saw Walker in the doorway. Once, she’d have assumed he’d come to see her. Tonight, her immediate thought was that someone was hurt. “Who?” she asked, rising to her feet. “What do—”

He halted her with a hand on her wrist, his skin rough against her own, his grip unbreakable. Startled, she froze. Her shock was the only thing that muted her instinctive response to his touch. Because she loved Walker’s hands, loved the calluses that came from what he did in his spare time, the beautiful things he created—including tiny pieces of furniture for his daughter’s cherished dollhouse.

Now, that strong, warm hand held her in place as he leaned forward to put a tray of food on her desk, the dark water and snow-dusted fir of his scent enclosing her in a sensual prison that allowed no escape. “You missed dinner. Again.”

Her wolf’s entire body quivered at what from a male wolf would signal the start of a serious courtship, but Lara squelched that reaction. She wasn’t about to set herself up for more hurt. “I was busy.” In spite of her calm words, when he nudged her back into her chair, she went without argument.

However, when he leaned that tall, strong body back against her desk—so close that she could’ve stroked her hand over his jean-clad thigh, the worn denim stretched taut over firm muscle—picked up the plate, and went to feed her a forkful, she jerked herself free of the lingering tendrils of shock. “Here,” she said, taking the plate. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Why?”

Sliding her chair a little farther from him, she forced herself to answer. “It’s an intimacy . . . like skin privileges.”

Walker didn’t ask any further questions, but neither did he leave—as Lara’s body language indicated he should. He knew he was pushing uninvited into her space, but he also knew he didn’t like it when she didn’t take care of herself and he’d had enough of watching that happen. And though it might’ve been smarter to keep his distance, given her disconcerting effect on him . . . he’d missed her.

“Did you hear,” he asked, because Lara was the one person with whom he’d always found words, “that Marlee joined the children’s choir?” It was the first time he’d made a deliberate effort to initiate—rebuild—any kind of a bond with a woman.

A genuine smile broke through the shadows on Lara’s face. “I heard Ben and her practicing. She’s got a beautiful voice.”

So, Walker thought, did Lara.

SIENNA jerked upright in bed, her plain black tank top stuck to her skin. The nightmare hadn’t raised its ugly head for months, but it had made up for lost time tonight. Shoving off the blankets, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed back strands of hair that had escaped her braid to stick to sweat-damp skin.

“Perfect.” Ming, looking at her as a human might a high-performance vehicle. “You really are the most perfect genetic specimen.”

Perfect—if you wanted a cold-blooded mass murderer. Except of course, her blood no longer ran cold. “Still a potential murderer,” she whispered, trembling so hard her vision wavered.

“We are who we make ourselves.” Judd’s voice, compelling in its very quietness. “Don’t ever give up your will to some idea of genetic predestination.”

She clung to his words. Judd had made it. He’d changed the nature of his gift from death to life, become a healer. That wasn’t a path Sienna could follow, her ability was too much of violence, but she’d forge her own path—and not as the butcher Ming had intended her to be, the butcher he’d spent so many years grooming in the expectation of owning her body and soul. Until she’d proven too dangerous even for him. “You didn’t break me, you bastard.” Not then, and not now.

Rising to her feet, she stripped and walked into the shower, setting the temperature close to boiling point. Only when her skin was pulsing with heat almost painful in its intensity did she step out and rub herself down. A glance at the clock showed her it was five a.m. Dressing and plaiting her damp hair, she logged in to the roster to double-check her schedule and saw a reminder that she was meant to attend a training session from noon until late in the afternoon.

Checking the rest of the roster, she coded in a call to Riordan. It went through with visuals. A rumpled sounding wolf said, “I’m getting up, Mom. I promise,” from under a blanket. “Gimme just a minute.”

Her lips twitched. “You mind if I take your shift this morning?” He was rostered on from six to eleven.

Riordan raised his head to meet her gaze, his hair sticking up in a mess that was mysteriously attractive. “Dear God, you’re showered. Crazy woman.”

“Since I am . . .”

“You sure?”

“Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.” If she kept moving, then maybe she’d forget the bleak insight she’d had in the SUV last night, forget that the past stood as an opaque barrier between her and the only man who’d ever broken through her own shields. “You can pay me back later in the week.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Sin.”

Logging off, she grabbed a small daypack and walked out to the communal kitchen/dining area in this sector of the den. It was empty, the lighting dim. But someone had started the coffee, and there was a still-warm tray of muffins on the counter. The sight made her heart lift.

Forcing herself to wait, she stashed a water bottle in her pack, along with a sandwich she put together using the fresh ingredients in the cooler. That done, she poured herself a glass of milk—a habit for which both Evie and Riordan teased her unmercifully—chose the biggest muffin on the tray and sat down to indulge. Her eyes almost rolled back into her head at the first bite.

Cream cheese and peaches—her favorite.

Licking her fingers after finishing it, she glanced at the tray, bit her lower lip. Food was the most innocent of sensual pleasures but one she never took for granted, remembering all too well the nutrition bars that had been the mainstay of her diet for so many years. It was Hawke, she remembered with a stab of pain deep within, who had given her her first bite of something that had set her senses humming.

She’d been shaky, on her knees on the grass, her arms around the kids as they’d blacked out after Walker cut their connection to the PsyNet.Judd had stood in front, Walker at the back, both of them giving her time to make certain Toby and Marlee wouldn’t break away from the newly created familial net into which Sienna had pulled them, wouldn’t seek to rejoin the Net.

So blue, she remembered thinking as she raised her head and met the gaze of the man who stood opposite Judd’s protective form, his hair brilliant even in the dull sunlight that fateful morning. So lethal, had been her next thought. They’d done their research, and so she’d known who he was, what he might yet do to the adults, herself included.

But Toby and Marlee, they were children, and wolves loved children. Judd, Walker, and Sienna had bet the kids’ lives on that bit of knowledge, hoping against hope that the two youngest members of the family would find some way to gain the necessary biofeedback from the wolf pack once the adults were gone. Because though—once he’d realized they’d fetch no ransom—the wolf alpha had ordered them to cut their PsyNet links if they were to have any chance of gaining sanctuary, none of the adults expected to live through the day.

It was only later, with the children secured in the LaurenNet, that Sienna realized the wolf alpha was biting out clipped orders to his men and women. Blankets had already appeared for the children in the time she’d spent on the psychic plane. Sienna stood with Marlee in her arms, while Walker took Toby, and Judd stayed as their shield. Her body swayed.

The wolf alpha’s eyes snapped to her. “Give her to me.”

She should’ve let Judd answer, but she was a cardinal who’d effectively been on her own since she was five—she knew a challenge when she heard it. “No.”

A single raised eyebrow. “You’ve defected, sweetheart. No use worrying about the big, bad wolf now.”

She was aware of Judd speaking, but her attention never shifted off the man who was a predator, for all that he wore a human skin. When he peeled open and held out a bar of some kind, she took it, aware low energy levels could be dangerous when it came to her ability to keep a handle on the cold fire. “Thank you.”

A faint smile, a strange amusement in those icy eyes. “You’re welcome.”

It was the most polite interaction they’d ever had.

HAWKE spent the morning in a business negotiation—the other party was attempting to get SnowDancer to increase its offer by dangling a bullshit competing bid in front of them, an underhanded tactic, but one Hawke understood. What he had a problem with was the fact the Psy conglomerate thought SnowDancer too stupid to know the difference between a fair if tough price and a scalping.

“I’m sorry,” the Psy negotiator said from the comm screen, her face pristine in its lack of expression. “I’m afraid we can’t accept anything less than a fifteen percent increase.”

“In that case,” Hawke said, having had enough, “I guess this negotiation is over.” Ending the call before she could respond, he glanced over at Jem, who’d sat in on the session from L.A. “Find us another supplier.”

“I’ll have a short list by tonight.” The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed. “They really think we got to where we are by being dumb shits? You’d think they’d know better by now.”

Hawke shrugged, ignoring the flashing message that said the negotiator was trying to reinitiate contact. “They will, when their shares take a nosedive.” SnowDancer was the largest pack in the country and had the attendant economic power. While Hawke had a preference for dealing with changeling or human companies—for the simple reason that the Councilors had interests in, and control over, so many Psy businesses—Psy were the only option in certain sectors. Except—“That small human start-up, what was it called . . .”

“Aquarius?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Can they supply us?”

Jem took a moment to check her files. “They have the intellectual know how, but it’ll stretch their capacity.” A pause. “Of course, with a contract this big, they’ll be able to afford to expand.”

“You want to talk to them?”

“I’ll set up a face-to-face today.”

Leaving Jem to handle that, Hawke headed out for a hunt in wolf form with some of his senior soldiers. It was something he did on a regular basis, having no desire to be an alpha who didn’t know the wants and needs of his people. More, it was a need within his wolf, to run side by side with those who were his own.

As a result of the hunt, and the ensuing conversation, he didn’t get back to the den until after four. At which point, he showered, dressed in clean clothes, and took one of the SUVs for a drive down to the city.

TIRED from the physical day and devastatingly conscious that Hawke hadn’t sought her out since walking her to her quarters the night before . . . when he’d been reminded once again of what the Psy had taken from him, Sienna sat cross-legged in bed, planning to work on a physics problem. It would keep her mind busy until exhaustion kicked her into dreamless sleep. That was the hope, anyway.

She’d picked up the datapad and was about to bring up the file when there was a knock on her door. Expecting it to be Evie or one of her other friends, she put aside the device and jumped up to open it without bothering about the fact that she was wearing her favorite soft black pajama pants and a faded gray T-shirt.

But it wasn’t Evie at the door.

“What are you doing here?” It came out husky, near soundless.

Ice blue eyes traced the contours of her face. “I had unfinished business.” He brought out a small wrapped box from behind his back. “Here.”

She took the box without a conscious decision to act, stared.

Hawke leaned his arm against the doorjamb. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

It was hard to think with him so close, his voice a deep murmur that turned her doorway into a private alcove, the moment into a slow, potent seduction. “What’s inside?” Her fingers closed around the box, possessive as any predatory changeling.

“If I told you, what would be the surprise?” The heat of him caressed her as he took over her world. She couldn’t see around him, his shoulders too wide, his presence too compelling. “I am, however”—his voice dropping, that wolf-blue gaze focused on her mouth—“willing to trade kisses for the secret.”

The languid comment had her toes curling. Determined not to let him disconcert her any further, she undid the gauzy white ribbon with care and put it on top of the little shelf that stood against the wall beside the door, before beginning to unwrap the silver paper.

Hawke chuckled. “So neat.”

“It’s the way we were taught in the Net.” Such habits were more necessary for her than most, a reminder to ensure mental discipline. But that was the last thing on her mind at that instant, because she’d finished unwrapping her gift.

Lifting off the top part of the metallic cardboard box, she set it beside the paper and picked out the item wrapped in several layers of tissue. Hawke took the other half of the box and put it on the shelf as she pulled away the tissue to reveal—“Oh.” Wonder unfurled within her at the sight of the tiny penguin formed of shining metal, complete with black tuxedo and gold saxophone.

“Here.” Reaching out as she stood the painstakingly-crafted object on her palm, Hawke turned the key at the back.

The penguin began to “play” the sax with its fin, dipping and raising its head in time to the tinny saxophone music that appeared to emanate from the instrument at its mouth. The song was hauntingly familiar. Frowning, she turned the key when it wound down, listened again . . . and lost any hope of holding out against the wolf at her door even if she’d wanted to. “We danced to this.” Under the moonlight, deep in the forest.

“If you’d forgotten,” Hawke said, his head close to hers, though she couldn’t remember seeing him move, “I’d have had to bite you again.”

Her hand went to her shoulder. “The mark’s gone.”

Reaching out, he tugged at her T-shirt to bare the vulnerable skin, rubbed his thumb over the spot. Wolf-blue gleamed between slitted lids. “Come here.”

The shiver that rocked through her at that low demand almost unseated the whimsical toy on her palm. Shaking her head at the wolf who very definitely wanted to use his teeth on her, she said, “Where did you find this?”

“There’s a little shop in the city—I’ll take you there someday.” His hand slid to the back of her nape. “I asked the owner to use that song.”

It was tempting, so tempting, to lean her head against that wide chest, to stay in this perfect moment and ignore the words spoken in the car last night, but she’d never been a woman to hide from the facts—once, it had been because she’d had no choice, but now it had become part of her very character.

Raising her head, she looked into that wild gaze, that of a human with the heart of a wolf. “Why are you giving this to me?” It was a silent apology, she understood that—but the reason behind his harsh words last night couldn’t remain unsaid. They were a dark shadow over any future relationship.

It was the wolf who answered her. “I just am.”

“Do you have any others?” she asked, changing tack.

“Maybe.”

It was the most peculiar feeling, having this conversation with Hawke, neither of them trying to draw blood. “May I see them?”

A shrug. “If you’re good.”

Her skin was suddenly too tight over her breasts, even the softness of the T-shirt too abrasive. “How many do you have?” she asked as he stepped impossibly closer, until the muscled strength of his thighs bracketed her own.

“All these questions.” His hand tightening on her nape, his body hard and demanding against the sensitive tips of her breasts. “Maybe I want something in return.”

“I—” she began, not knowing if she was going to surrender or push for the answers she needed when Hawke’s phone beeped.

“Hold on,” he murmured without breaking the searing eye contact, without removing the rough heat of his hand from her nape. “That’s Riley’s code.” He placed the phone to his ear.

And everything changed.