Tangle of Need

Chapter 36

ADRIA LOOKED FROM the counter, her guarded smile familiar. “Hey.” She held up the coffeepot, pouring him a mug when he nodded. “Milk?”

“No, black.” It felt strange to be having this ordinary conversation with her, the undertone faintly awkward, when he’d been buried balls-deep in her only hours ago.

“Here you go.” Passing it over, she began to add sugar to her own mug.

His eyebrows rose after the fourth teaspoon, the awkwardness dissipating into an amused affection that made his wolf prick its ears. “Sure you don’t want some coffee with your sugar?” he asked when she began to stir.

“Everyone has their vices.” A suspiciously bland comment, followed by, “Maybe you’d like me to fetch you a bar of dark chocolate.”

He grinned, wondering how she’d figured out his predilection for the stuff. “I figured you were a strong-black-coffee type of girl.” It intrigued him that he’d been so off base, made him aware of all the things he didn’t know about this woman who’d shared her body with him. Especially when she poured in what looked like half a pot of cream, then took a gulp, shivering with pleasure.

His body hardened. The urge to touch her, to claim skin privileges outside the bedroom was almost overwhelming, but he grit his teeth and fought it. They’d set limits on their relationship, and he needed to respect that, not only for his sake, but for hers.

Adria leaned back against the counter. “You look tense.”

Her color-drenched eyes, they saw too much. It was one of the first things he’d thought at their initial meeting, and regardless of how uncomfortable it made him as a man, her perceptiveness was a skill he could utilize as a lieutenant. “You know much about what went down with the Human Alliance a year ago?”

The Alliance had tried to plant bombs in San Francisco, attempted to kidnap Ashaya Aleine. Bo and his people, rebels from the group at the time, had made the stupid-ass mistake of kidnapping a young male from DarkRiver territory in an effort both to protect him and to gain the packs’ attention. “About Bowen and his group?”

“Yes”—Adria took another sip of her coffee—“all senior soldiers were briefed. I know we’ve been working with the cats to build a functional relationship with them.”

“It’s been rocky,” Riaz acknowledged, “but we knew we had to find some way to make things work.” The Alliance’s business standing had taken a hit immediately after the events in San Francisco, but as Hawke had predicted, it had rebounded even stronger.

Changelings have packs, the alpha had said. The Alliance is the human equivalent—it not only represents humans as a group, it’s powerful enough that people pay attention.

Not a body to disregard, regardless of the fact that humans were so often labeled the weakest part of the triumvirate that was the world.

“Are they breaking their side of their bargain,” Adria asked, “trying something in our territory?”

“No, but they’ve been implicated in a set of assassinations in the Mediterranean.” He pushed off the wall, decision made. “I’m going to call Bowen. Want to sit in?”

Blue-violet eyes streaked with gold widened at the corners. “Yes, I would.”

Coffees drunk and mugs washed, they headed toward the conference room. “Does the Alliance have people with the training to pull off something so clean, and we have to assume, fast?” she asked after he finished summarizing the situation.

“Bo could’ve done it. He worked in covert ops in the military arm of the Alliance before he decided he didn’t like where that arm was heading under the previous leadership.” Into a violence as cold and self-serving as that of the Council. “If it was the Alliance, I’m more interested in the why.”

Adria raised an eyebrow as they entered the conference room.

“Bo,” he explained, “has been very carefully rebuilding the Alliance’s reputation.”

“And this kind of violence, if it got out,” Adria murmured, “would bring up too many ugly memories in the wider population.”

He reached behind her to shut the door. “Grab a seat out of camera range,” he said, allowing her enigma of a scent to seep into his veins. “I want you to act as a second set of ears and eyes—Bo’s very good at only giving away what he wants.”

Choosing a seat that offered an excellent vantage point, Adria watched Riaz put through the call. His back to her, he couldn’t see her, and so she allowed herself the indulgence of a lingering visual examination, her eyes drawn to his left shoulder and the jagged curves and lines of the tattoo hidden by his T-shirt. She loved the way the black ink looked against his skin, as she loved the muscled beauty of his frame, the way he moved when inside her.

It wasn’t difficult to see why he intrigued her on the deepest level.

But though he was undeniably a sexy, handsome man, her wolf saw beauty through a different lens. It was drawn to his strength, his ease with himself—and with her. Riaz wasn’t bothered if she lost control during intimacy and drew a little blood, didn’t care if she wanted to take the reins at times. When they’d worked together during the battle with Pure Psy, he’d given orders with cool, calm control even in the midst of chaos. The soldier in her respected him for that, while the woman found it another compelling aspect of his character.

However, she also understood that he’d be maddening in a relationship. He wasn’t simply a dominant predatory changeling male, a lieutenant, he was a lone wolf. It was legend how incredibly possessive and insanely protective a lone wolf became with the woman he claimed as his own—as opposed to one with whom he’d agreed to build a friendship based on a storm of shared need … and shared pain.

“Two seconds,” he said, those amazing eyes locking with her own. “Ready?”

Her stomach clenched in visceral awareness. “Yes.”

“Who the hell is this?” a rough male voice asked, accepting an audio-only transmission after the call rang for a quarter of a minute.

“Bo, it’s Riaz.”

A pause, the sound of sheets rustling. “Christ, let me get out of bed,” was the response, though it had to be midmorning in Venice.

“Late night?” Riaz asked.

“Unfortunately not the x-rated kind.” A couple more seconds passed before Bo’s face appeared on-screen. He’d shaved off his hair, so he didn’t have bed head, but his face was rumpled on one side, the smooth caramel brown of his skin carrying a fine sunburn … as if he’d been out on the water. “That was quick.” Somber eyes that watched Riaz with piercing intensity.

Riaz didn’t blink. “You know what this is about.”

“I can guess.” Bo rubbed a hand over his smooth skull, the lines of his face masculine yet elegant—a man who’d be beautiful if not for the flinty hardness in his eyes, the ropes of muscle across his bare shoulders. “I can’t say anything on this line.”

“It’s secure.”

But Bowen shook his head, a stubborn angle to his jaw. “Has to be face-to-face, and I’m not planning on any travel right now.”

Leaning back against the wall, Riaz folded his arms. “You’re sounding paranoid.”

“You would, too, if you’d just had the week I’ve had. It’ll only take you what”—Bo frowned—“three hours on an express airjet to get here?”

“This isn’t the best time for a SnowDancer lieutenant to leave the pack.” Riaz held the Alliance male’s gaze. “What priority is your intel?”

“High.” No hesitation.

“I’ll call you back.”

“Trust me, Riaz. You want to hear what I have to say.” Bowen signed off with those portentous words.

Waiting until the screen was clear, Adria said, “Why didn’t you confirm a trip?” He was right about the timing, but it was doable, wouldn’t affect the strength of their defenses.

“If he’s on the mark about the comm being monitored,” Riaz said, blue-black strands of hair falling across his forehead, “it’s no use tipping off any listeners to the fact we’ll be in the area.”

Her pulse spiked. “We?”

“I’m going to need backup.” Riaz saw Adria’s eyes widen. “Situation like this, I’d usually ask my man already in the area, but he’s got something else on his plate, and you speak fluent Italian.” He knew it was the right decision, that her linguistic skill and status as an experienced soldier made her the perfect choice. He also knew he was treading a dangerous line.

But Adria, when she rose to her feet, showed no indications of having read more into his suggestion than he meant. “How do you know that? The fact I speak Italian?”

“It’s my job,” he said. “I keep track of anyone in the pack who has a skill that might come in useful internationally.” Adria’s CV had passed across his desk when she transferred. “What I can’t understand is why you chose to learn Italian when Spanish would’ve been more useful in the region.”

She didn’t answer, her next words telling him her mind was on something else altogether. “I don’t want to disrupt things so early on with my trainees.”

“It should only be a day or two.” He knew how heavily the juveniles relied on their assigned supervisors.

A slow nod. “That’s manageable. I was planning to ask Riley to put me on a high-perimeter shift anyway.” Catching his questioning look, she said, “They might be submissives, but constant oversight isn’t good for any wolf’s development.”

“We’ll leave early morning tomorrow,” he said, wondering how a tough senior soldier understood SnowDancer’s submissives so well. “That give you enough time to organize cover for your duties?”

“No problem.” Then to his surprise, she did a funny little dance around her chair, singing, “I’m going to Venice. I’m going to Venice.”

It startled laughter out of him, his wolf standing up in fascination at the unexpected and sweetly charming crack in Adria’s sober facade. “If you’re really good,” he said when she stopped dancing to grin at him, “I’ll take you on a gondola ride through the canals.” Delight, bright and dangerous, cascaded through his veins.