Burning Up (3 page)

“Times have changed—and I’m twenty-two, hardly shriveled up.” She rested her head against the wall. “Tell me how you met Grandfather.”

“Why? You know that already.”

“Please.” The story comforted her, and right now, she needed comforting.

“Alright, for my Ri-ri.” A deep breath. “I was living on a farm in Henan Province and my family was trying to arrange my marriage. But,
ai
, I was a terrible one. I wouldn’t marry any of the boys they brought around—too skinny, too fat, too stupid, too tied to his mama’s apron strings.”

“They let you get away with that?”

“I was only girl after three boys. I was spoiled.” Said with a fond smile. “Then one day, my father comes home and says, Miaoling, today you dress nice, American doctor is coming to the village to check old people’s eyes.”

“Cataracts.”

“Yes. My father says, maybe crazy American will want crazy Chinese wife who doesn’t listen to anyone. Of course, that makes me want to not like American at all.”

Ria giggled, as drawn into the story as she’d been as a child. “Then Grandfather came to the house for dinner.”

“And I wore brown dress, ugly brown dress, with ugly brown shoes.” Her grandmother’s hand stroked over Ria’s hair, hair that Miaoling had once said held the silk of China but the lush chocolate shade of an entirely different culture. “But he’s so handsome. Pretty green eyes, yellow hair. And he’s nice. He laughs at me silently all night across the dinner table. He knows what I’m up to.”

“But he asked you to marry him anyway.”

“After one week. And crazy Miaoling said yes, and we came to America.”

“So quick,” Ria said, shaking her head. “Weren’t you scared?”

“Pah, why scared? When in love, no scared. Only impatient.”

“Don’t say it,
Popo
!”

But it was too late. “Impatient to use woman parts!”

E
mmett hid his grin in his jasmine tea. His hearing was leopard-acute. He could hear everything Ria’s grandmother was saying—and damn if he wasn’t half in love with the lady already. No wonder Ria’s grandfather had married her.

Glancing up, he caught Alex’s expression as her husband folded her into his arms. All her bluster aside, Alex really was worried about Ria. “No one will hurt your daughter again,” he said quietly, rising to his feet.

They all looked at him for long minutes, until finally, Simon, Ria’s father, nodded. But when he spoke, it was to say, “She’s not for you. She’s taken.”

Emmett raised an eyebrow. “She’s not wearing a ring.” And if some moron had been stupid enough not to claim her when he’d had the chance, that wasn’t Emmett’s problem.

“She will,” Simon said. “We’ve been friends with Tom’s family, the Clarks, for years. The marriage proposal is a formality.”

Emmett could hear Ria and her grandmother even now, giggling in the bathroom. Neither of them had mentioned this Tom in their discussion of utilizing “woman parts.” The leopard gave a feline grin of satisfaction, though the man kept his face expressionless. “I have a feeling that nothing is a given with your daughter—she’ll make her own choices.” Of course, he had every intention of making sure she chose him, but no need to tell her parents that. Not yet.

T
wo hours later, after a quick meeting with the DarkRiver alpha and a number of other soldiers, Emmett rubbed at gritty eyes as he accepted the beer Nathan threw him. “I’ve got to head home, get some sleep.”

“Take a few minutes to relax,” the sentinel—one of the pack’s highest-ranking soldiers—told him. “You’ve been taut as a bow all night. Everything go okay with the girl who was attacked?”

“Yeah.” Emmett had no intention of discussing Ria further with anyone. Not tonight. “What was that Luc was saying about the Psy?” Changeling concerns rarely intersected with those of the unemotional psychic race, but from what he’d caught tonight, it might in this case.

Nate took a swig of his beer. “You know how they dominate politics. We’ve heard they might try to neutralize the Crew themselves.”

“Why? They don’t give a shit about human and changeling casualties.” The sole reason the other race stayed in power—aside from the fact that their competitors had a way of withdrawing from the race after the publication of one scandal or another—was their ability to make money, money that did occasionally trickle down to the voters.

“We’re starting to step on their toes,” Nate said. “Psy like to be the top dogs in any given situation.”

“Guess we’ll have to move fast.”

“We’ve got a little time.” The other man put down his beer. “Apparently, not everyone in the Psy ranks is convinced we pose a credible threat.”

Emmett snorted. “They really can’t see beyond their ivory towers, can they?”

“Humans and changelings don’t figure much on their radar.” Nate’s smile was distinctly pleased. “And while they’re busy deciding whether or not to bother paying attention to us, we’ll take this city.”

Emmett raised his bottle in a toast. “To a successful campaign.” However, right then, he was thinking less about Dark-River’s takeover of the city, and more about a very private campaign of his own.
Come on, mink, play with me.

R
ia lay in bed that night and sighed. She’d been cosseted, petted, and smothered half to death by her family in the hours since her return home. Most days, it would’ve made her certifiable. Today, she’d needed that warm blanket of love.

Warmth. Heat.

Her body softened, remembering what it had felt like to lie curled up in Emmett’s lap. She’d never found herself in a man’s lap before. Most of the men who’d dared run the gauntlet of her family’s protectiveness to ask her out were nice boys from the neighborhood. She had nothing against them. But the thing was, she’d grown up with a father who was fierce in his care of his family, and an older brother who hadn’t deviated far from the paternal mold when it came to looking after those who were his own. They ate those nice boys for breakfast.

Ria dreamed of a man who’d occasionally chew them up instead!

Hugging her pillow, she smiled at her own thoughts. You’d think she didn’t like her family. That was far from the truth. But well, they were overwhelming. They kind of took over everything. How was she supposed to respect a man who let himself be taken over?

I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow.

Emmett had said that right in front of her father.

Goose bumps broke out over her entire body. She wondered what those big, strong hands of his would feel like smoothing over her skin, all hot and—

Her phone beeped. She groaned when she saw the caller ID.

Tom.

Sighing, she went to answer, but the well-concealed devil in her made her turn off the cell instead. There was nothing wrong with Tom, except that he wanted to marry her. Her father liked Tom. Even Alex liked Tom. Ria had no problem with Tom. She just didn’t want to marry him. No, what she dreamed of was a love story like her grandmother’s—and Miaoling was the only one in the family who supported Ria’s resistance to the “Great Match.”

From Alex’s and Simon’s point of view, it truly was a great match. Like her, Tom was part Chinese. Like her, he’d grown up in the States, and had a very Western outlook on life, without having forgotten the other side of his heritage. Best of all, the Clarks and the Wembleys had been friends since before either Ria or Tom had been born.

It was all perfect.

Except Tom would never laugh with her over a secret joke as her grandfather had done with her grandmother. He’d never hold her with the furious tenderness with which Simon held Alex when he thought no one was looking. And he’d never pick a fight with her just so he’d get to make up, as Jet did with Amber.

Why couldn’t they see that she wanted the same thing? All her life she’d been content to let Jet and their younger brother, Ken, take the spotlight. Being the middle child was actually kind of nice—she got the best of both worlds, and her relationship with her siblings was airtight. But with her man, with her husband, she wanted to be number one.

“Go to sleep, Ria,” she muttered to herself, knowing she was obsessing because she was afraid of nightmares.

But when she did sleep, it wasn’t to fall into a nightmare . . . but into the powerful arms of a man who looked at her with eyes gone cat-green.

E
mmett studied his face in the bathroom mirror the next morning and scowled. It was a wonder Ria hadn’t run screaming from him when he’d taken her into his arms. She was all soft and silky, a luscious armful. He, by comparison, looked like he’d had a few run-ins with both fists and walls. The fists were true, but like all changelings, he’d healed the damage fast. No, this was simply the face he’d been born with. It had never really bothered him before, but now he rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw and decided he’d damn well better shave before he went to check up on Ria.

The shave and shower cleaned him up, but he was aware he still looked like a thug when he knocked on the door to her family home. He most definitely looked nothing like the pretty boy walking up the drive with a huge bouquet of roses.

Shit.

Why the hell hadn’t he thought to bring flowers?

“Hello,” the other man said in an Ivy League-educated voice. “I’m Tom.”

Emmett held out a hand. “Emmett.”

“Simon mentioned you on the phone,” Tom said with a friendly smile that failed to hide the calculation in his eyes. “You helped Ria last night.”

“You’re a friend of the family?” Emmett asked to see what Tom would say, just as the door opened.

“No, he’s my daughter’s fiancé,” Alex said, pulling Tom down for a kiss on the cheek.

Emmett glanced at Tom. “You don’t believe in rings?”

“It’s not official yet.” The other man was calm, confident, clearly sure of his suit.

Emmett didn’t smile, but the leopard snapped its teeth inside him. This human cub was about to learn that leopard males didn’t recognize any claim not acknowledged by the female. And Ria didn’t consider herself bound to this one. Even if he hadn’t overhead her conversation with her grandmother, nothing about her had spoken of a commitment to another. She didn’t carry Tom’s scent . . . and she hadn’t pushed Emmett away last night.

Saying nothing of that, he turned to face Alex. “Could I speak to Ria?”

“Why?” Alex’s eyes narrowed, even as she pulled Tom inside and put her hand on the opposite doorjamb as if to bar Emmett’s way.

“I need to see if she remembers anything else about her attacker.” Emmett’s leopard knew a worthy adversary when it saw one. Alex was one hell of a protective mama-bear. But Emmett had tangled with plenty like her in the pack. “It’ll help us make the streets safer for all daughters.” No, he wasn’t above using emotional blackmail to talk his way in.

Alex dropped her arm. “Hmm. Come in—but if you upset Ria, I’ll beat you up myself.”

“I’m not fragile, Mom.” A familiar voice, a familiar scent—soft, fresh, but with a lingering spice to it.

He drew the contradiction of it deep into his lungs, his leopard keeping careful watch as Ria hugged her mother, then took the flowers from Tom. No kiss.
Good.
His claws scratched inside his skin, wanting out, wanting to do damage. Pretty Tom with his slick hair and flawless skin irritated him.

“Emmett.” Ria looked to him, all big brown eyes and hair. “We can talk in the living room.”

As he nodded, Alex took the roses. “I’ll put these in water. Tom can sit with you for moral support.”

“On second thought,” Ria said, making Alex freeze, “I think I’d rather go out for a walk—I can show Emmett where I was ambushed. Grandmother wants to talk to Tom.”

Grinning inwardly at how neatly she’d cut off all options but the one she wanted, Emmett stepped out onto the drive and waited for her to join him. “You’ve done this before,” he said when she came up beside him and they headed off.

“You have to grow a fairly strong personality in my family,” she said, a smile flirting with her lips. “It’s a survival mechanism.” Reaching into the pocket of her coat, she passed over a folded piece of paper. “The account number.”

“Thanks.” He glanced at her features, frowning at the bruise she’d tried to hide under makeup. “Show me your hands.”

She turned them palm-sides-up. “Healing okay.”

“The bastard is in a coma,” he muttered, cupping her hands so he could inspect the damage. The leopard hated seeing her marked up. So did the man. “You know a Psy we could chat up?”

“Well,” she said when he forced himself to let her go, “my mother’s accountant is Psy but I don’t think Ms. Bhaskar is into interrogations.”

“Pity.”

“So, last night . . .”

“Can you talk about it?” He paused to look down into her face. “If it’s too hard, we can delay it for a few days.”

A hint of open irritation flared in her eyes. “What about making the streets safer for all daughters?”

“It’s important,” he admitted. “This gang, Vincent’s Crew, they’re taunting us. If we don’t get them out of the city soon, we lose the right to hold it.”

“Really?” Lines marked her forehead. “Why?”

“It’s about power,” he told her. “A predatory changeling pack can only legitimately claim territory it can hold—and that means clearing it of all other predators. The Crew calls our authority into question. Another changeling group could decide that means we have no right to this area.”

“And then blood would spill,” she said, voice solemn. “The SnowDancer wolves?”

“Dangerous,” he told her. “But they’re holding a massive amount of territory already. Our intel says they haven’t got the manpower to push us out.”

“But they’re not the only ones are they?” Sliding her hands into the pockets of her vivid red coat, Ria nodded left. “That’s the alley where he grabbed me. I was walking home after a night class. My last class actually.”

“Why were you alone?” he asked, a slight growl in his voice. “It was after dark.”

“It was barely eight.” Irritation sparked again—Emmett was starting to show the same overprotective tendencies as her parents. “And I’m an adult in case you haven’t noticed.”