The Psy-Changeling Collection (388 page)

SnowDancer, at its core, operated very much like a military unit—albeit one with a warm emotional center, and that was a pattern of behavior her mind understood and accepted, the strict nature of it acting as an outside restraint on her abilities. Sienna was deathly certain she wouldn’t have survived in a more laissez-faire environment.

However, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be letting both Hawke and Judd know what she thought of their arrogance in excluding her from a conversation that had her as its focus. The irritated thought had just passed through her mind when a brilliant spark of joy burst onto her psychic senses.
Toby
. Her brother had phenomenal shields, but he tended to broadcast when in high spirits.
What’s got you so happy?

Sascha’s here
.

Sienna frowned.
Really?
It didn’t fit with what she’d witnessed of Lucas’s protective nature.

Lucas is with her. And like a hundred other soldiers
.

That made more sense.
Be good
.

Drew says I should be bad sometimes
.

He’s a terrible influence
. But she let Toby feel her laughter, hear that she was joking.
Just don’t be too bad
.

A starburst of love from a brother who’d had this aspect of his abilities buried in the Net. Then Toby was gone from her mind and the door to Hawke’s office was being pulled open. “Sascha and Lucas are here,” she said to Hawke when he followed Judd out into the corridor.

“I know.” He held up a sleek black phone. “Riley will handle anything they need. We”—his eyes locked to Sienna’s—“are heading out for a while.”

Per their agreement, she didn’t question the order until Judd left them at the junction. “You were talking about me,” she began. “I—”

“Uncles,” Hawke interrupted, “brothers, fathers have always had and will always have private ‘discussions’ with males who want to touch their women. You’re never going to win that argument”—a playful tug on her braid—“so give it up.”

Glaring at him, she pulled her hair from his grasp. “That is the most sexist statement I have ever heard.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” He shrugged. “Ask Riley sometime about the nice little chat Mercy’s brothers and father had with him.”

Irritation derailed by curiosity, she said, “What about Indigo?” The lieutenant was the third-highest ranking individual in the pack, needed no one’s protection.

“You know Abel,” he said, referring to Indigo’s father. “What do you think?”

Sienna knew right then that the arrogant wolf had won, because Abel adored his girls, had probably threatened to rip out key parts of Drew’s anatomy. “Where are we going?” she asked, foul-tempered and not bothering to hide it.

“In a bit.” Nodding his head toward one of the conference rooms, he
said, “Toby’s in there.” An unasked question, silent consent if she needed to go to her brother.

“He’s fine,” she said, wondering how the wolf-eyed male could be so infuriating and so very wonderful at the same time. “He loves his lessons with Sascha.”

“She gets something out of it, too, you know.”

“She’s a cardinal empath. Toby’s E abilities are barely 3 on the Gradient.” Her brother’s cardinal status came from his telepathy.

“But he
is
an E in some part,” Hawke pointed out. “He exists.”

Yes, she thought, Hawke was right. It explained the hereto inexplicable depth of Sascha’s joy whenever she was with Toby. “I’ve never met another X.” She didn’t know why she told him that.

Hawke didn’t respond until they’d exited the den and were heading out on a path that would lead eventually to the training run that had gotten ever more fiendish since Riaz’s return from a stint abroad. “How about a weak X?” he asked, his face lifted up to the clean, bright Sierra sunshine.

Beautiful man
. “It’s such a rare designation,” she said when he shot her a questioning glance, “that there’s probably less than ten of us at any given time.” Even that was a generous estimate, considering what she’d gleaned about their life expectancy. “The theory is that Xs below 2 on the Gradient don’t manifest, so no one ever realizes. As for the others . . . I know of one who died during my teen years. I heard of another two who died before I was brought in.”

So much sadness, so much death.

“Of the two other living Xs I knew of in the Net,” she continued, “one was psychotic and the other hypersensitive.” It felt strange to talk of the X designation without feeling the vicious spear of pain down her spine that was the first level of dissonance, a warning not to speak of things the Council would prefer to keep secret. “It was possible I’d set him off if we came into close contact.”

“Didn’t that volatility make him a danger?” Hawke pushed silver-gold strands off his face, catching her eye.

“Yes,” she murmured, “but he must’ve been useful in some capacity because they permitted him to live.” Hawke had, she thought, the most
fascinating hair, unusual and beautiful as his pelt in wolf form. “Why don’t you grow out your hair?”

“You mean like Luc?” He shrugged. “Not me, I guess.”

She had to admit she loved the way the strands brushed his nape, just long enough to be rebellious . . . to invite the caress of a woman’s fingers. Unsure where they were in terms of a relationship, what he’d accept, she tucked her hands under her armpits. “Why are you so like your wolf in human form?”

“There was a time when I needed it to be the dominant aspect even when I was in human form—the wolf was more mature than the boy.” He led her past the training run and into the trees. “My wolf was always near the surface. The experience heightened the effect.”

Startled at getting a straight answer, she scrambled to gather her thoughts. “I’ve heard changelings say it can be dangerous to spend too long with the animal in control.”

“It couldn’t be helped. I was fifteen when I became alpha.”

“So young?”

“Our alpha was dead, and so were most of the lieutenants and senior soldiers.”

“That’s why SnowDancer has such a young population.” Nowhere near the level of older people you’d expect. She went to ask another question when she realized they’d stopped in the shadow of a slender tree, its branches hung with elegant leaves that shimmered in the wind.

“I’ll give you,” he said, “a twenty-minute head start.” A pale-eyed wolf watched her out of a human face.

Chapter 19

THE FINE HAIRS
on her arms rose. “To do what?”

“You have to get to the lake before I catch you.” A slow, provoking smile that kicked her straight in the gut. “Let’s see if you’re smart enough to fool the wolf.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Sienna had paid her dues, earned her status. “Is this a test?”

“Nope.”

Folding her arms, she spread her feet in a defensive stance. “Then I don’t have to do it.”

“I’m asking you to.” He angled his head to the side, the motion nothing human. “Afraid you’ll lose?”

She set her jaw. “I can beat you with my eyes closed.”

“I’m scared.” The wolf was laughing at her.

If she’d been able to growl, she’d have done it right then. “Are you allowed to circle to the lake and wait for me?” He was faster, would win even with the head start.

But he shook his head, strands of that gorgeous hair sliding over his forehead. “What would be the fun in that?”

She knew he’d manipulated her into accepting the challenge, but her
competitive streak had kicked in, wouldn’t allow her to back down. “Fine. Start the clock.”

“Done.” He closed his eyes. “Before you go, I should tell you what you get if you win.”

“What?”

“A surprise.”

Oh, she very much wanted the ability to growl. “What if I lose?”

“I might throw you in the lake. Maybe.”

Not trusting him an inch when he had that smile flirting with his lips, she took off. He was far, far faster—she’d seen him run, and the sight had brought her heart into her throat. Built like the most beautiful living machine, all fluid sinew and tendon, muscle and strength, he so outclassed her when it came to speed that she didn’t stand a chance.

But there were other ways to tangle with a wolf.

MAN
and wolf were both a little disappointed in Sienna. She’d gone in a straight line to the lake, hadn’t even tried to use the nearby waterways to mask her scent. The shining thread of wild spice and autumn leaves spilled out ahead of him, an unmistakable lure to his wolf. He’d have to have a—“Fuck!”

He was upside down, watching the pine-needle strewn earth pass this way and that several feet below him, his right ankle caught securely in a rope. Twisting to stare up at his ankle, he shook his head. Stared again. Started to laugh.
Smart, smart girl
. It wasn’t a rope at all, but a thick vine that grew everywhere around here. Sienna had to have spent most of her twenty-minute head start laying this trap. A trap he would’ve normally avoided—except that he’d written off her skills on this playing field. That’d teach him to be an arrogant ass.

Contorting his body, he went to slice the vine with a claw.

Only to fall short just shy of his goal.

Swearing, he tried again, and again. By the time he got the damn thing off, he’d painted the air blue, and it didn’t exactly help when he landed hard on his tailbone. The wolf was not amused . . . except that it was because
this
was a game. Getting rid of the remnants of the vine around his ankle, he stretched to reset his muscles, then restarted following her scent—being far more careful this time.

He saw the vine she’d strung across the path and lifted his feet over it without tripping the snare. Only to find his damn ankle—the same one—stuck in a hole. Growling, he brushed away the leaves to discover the brat had dug three holes on the other side. He’d managed to find the center one.

Clever
, his wolf thought, delighted with her,
very clever
.

Digging out his abused ankle, he spent several minutes undoing the trap so others wouldn’t be caught unawares—as he had a feeling she’d known he would—then changed tack. Instead of moving directly toward her scent, he took a longer route, coming in at an angle. He saw where she’d rested, glimpsed another smart, sneaky trap. It cost him precious minutes to undo it but far fewer than if he’d been caught up in it.

Five minutes later, a long strand of ruby red hair glinted at him from a bush, the area thick with her scent. Certain he’d run her to ground, he went to part the bush . . . and only just snapped his hand back in time. His curvy little brand of trouble had almost led him into a thicket of poison ivy. Oh, now he was mad.

Grinning, he looked down and saw her sweatshirt hidden under the bush, likely pushed there by a stick. “Crafty Psy.” Aware now of the caliber of opponent he had on his hands, he began to track her in earnest, flying over the earth at inhuman speed, every one of his senses on alert.

There
.

She was a mere kilometer from the lake, hair tied back, her arms bared by her T-shirt as she knelt on the ground laying another trap for him. Instead of pouncing on her, he moved silently around to watch. Such a quick mind she had, he thought, seeing how she used the springy branch of a tree and another one of the vines to create her latest snare.

Every other opponent he’d had in this game had tried to mask his or her scent, to confuse and disorient. She was the single one who’d thought to use her time to set traps—and the wolf appreciated her cunning. It was only her lack of speed that had allowed him to catch her. But caught her he had . . . and he had a few tricks of his own.

. . .

SIENNA
went motionless as her nape prickled in warning. Nothing. No sound, definitely no shout like the one that had gone up when Hawke had walked into the first trap. She’d been less than ten meters away, having had barely enough time to pull it together. Oh, he’d been pissed.

But then he’d laughed.

She’d never expected that, and it had made her understand. A game. They were playing a game. Except for with Toby and Marlee, she’d never played a game before that wasn’t connected to learning military tactics. Even with her brother and cousin, she was focused on their enjoyment, more a coordinator than a participant.

This—it was play for play’s sake.

The efficient X-Psy inside of her said she was wasting time, but she shushed that voice. Because she’d never felt as light, as young as she did at this moment, sneaking through an ancient forest, trying to outwit a wolf with pale blue eyes and hair of silver-go—“?!#”

The sound that erupted from her throat was unintelligible as she found herself dangling by one ankle at least five feet off the ground. “No,” she muttered, staring around in disbelief. But of course the answer was right there in her current predicament. “You win!” she finally called out in a fit of temper.

He appeared out of the forest, looking at her with quizzical eyes. “What are you doing up there, baby?”

“
Rrrr
.” She slapped her hands over her mouth to still the feral sound.

Hawke’s cheeks creased into a delighted smile. “Do that again.”

Never. “Get me down.”

He rocked back on his heels. “What do I get in exchange?”

“I won’t fry you to a crisp.”

“You wouldn’t anyway,” he said with such insouciant confidence it was pure provocation.

She shot a bolt of fire past his hair, but he’d already shifted sideways. “Tut, tut. That’s cheating.”

“Urgh!” Twisting her body with serious effort from her abdominal muscles,
she went to aim her hand at the vine, sure she could sever it with her abilities.

“It’ll hurt like hell when you fall.”

She paused. He’d set his trap so she dangled higher than he had. It
would
hurt. Dropping back down, she blew out a breath. “What do you want?” It was a snarl; she’d never snarled before.

Walking close enough that he could put one hand under her nape, the other on her lower back, tilting her head up into a more comfortable position, he leaned in so close that all she could see was translucent ice blue. “A kiss for the big, bad wolf.”