The Psy-Changeling Series, Books 6-10 (138 page)

 

 

Drew’s fur slid
out from under Indigo’s palm, the muscled weight of him fluid as he disappeared into the forest. She watched for him, but he was gone, a whisper in the early evening shadows. Turning back around to face her charges, she curled her fingers into her palm, disturbingly aware of how he’d felt, the heat and wild beauty of him.

“Simple rules,” she told the teenagers once they’d shifted. “First one to find Drew wins. You can work in pairs, or you can go solo, but you have to decide now.” She gave them a couple of minutes to make up their minds before continuing. “No booby traps, no blood. This is about tracking.” Glancing around to make sure they all understood, she raised her arm, then dropped it in a sharp downward strike. “Go!”

As they shot out from around her like streaks of lightning, she followed on human feet. She could easily see—and scent—where Drew had gone, but the kids were moving slower, having seldom had the chance to work with someone of his skill. It made Indigo wonder if she could track him if he didn’t want to be tracked.

Her wolf didn’t like that thought—she was used to being able to run down anyone she chose except Hawke. Their alpha was all kinds of cunning when he didn’t want to be found, but Drew was their tracker, born with an almost preternatural ability to zero in on rogue wolves. Lines marred her forehead as a new thought intruded. Was it possible Drew could locate Hawke even when their alpha preferred to be lost?

Catching a whiff of iron in the air, she changed direction to make sure no one had been injured. She found Silvia—a sharp branch had whipped across her muzzle. The girl was gone before Indigo could tell her that the damage was superficial. Indigo’s wolf approved.

Burying the branch to ensure it wouldn’t inadvertently lead the others this way, she carried on keeping watch over the hunters. True dark was hovering on the horizon when she heard a victorious howl on the cool evening wind.

Nothing like wanting to impress a girl—in this case, Silvia—to nudge a male wolf into gear. Lifting her head, she joined in as the others in the group began to howl in response to Brace’s triumph. The sound was . . . It touched the soul, the music haunting, starkly pure and yet so very earthy.

Home. Pack. Family.

Aware that Drew would herd everyone to camp, she lowered her head on the fading echo of the last note and jogged back herself—to find that Silvia had beaten her there. The girl’s bruise looked worse in human form, but the maternal female wasn’t worried. “I found something,” she said with an almost puppyish eagerness. “Look.” A round metal ball lay in the palm of her hand. It was rusted, and had clearly come off the worse against rocks, but was recognizable as a man-made object.

Indigo frowned. “Where did you find this?” SnowDancer was very strict about garbage. Nothing, but nothing, was allowed to pollute their lands.

Silvia described a location about a five-minute run east from where Indigo had last seen her. “It was stuck between two rocks on the edge of the stream. I think it must’ve been washed down.”

That was Indigo’s thought, too, and, given the network of tributaries that ran down through the mountains, it meant there was no way to trace the object’s origin. “I don’t think even Brenna will be able to figure out what this was meant to be.” Because while she could see the remnants of a few wires inside, the metal orb was mostly hollow.

Silvia’s face fell. Reaching out, Indigo squeezed the girl’s rounded shoulder. “But you did good bringing it to me. Even if it is simply trash, we need to track down the guilty party and tell them to keep their junk off our land.”

The others began to trickle in then, and she turned to put the sphere in the tent. Drew nudged his way inside while she was still packing it away. Shifting in a shower of sparks, he tugged at the clasps of his pack. “I’m going to go take a dip in the stream.”

Indigo realized she was staring at the muscled slope of his back, her fingers uncurling as if in readiness to stroke. “Sure.” Coloring at her own rudeness, she backed out of the tent. Thank God Drew had been too intent on pulling out a change of clothes to notice.

Two hours after
the completion of the chase, and an hour after dinner, with their charges having collapsed in their tents, Andrew lay on top of his sleeping bag. He and Indigo had pinned up the flaps of their tent and placed their sleeping bags side by side facing outward. The position would allow them to drink in the night sky and keep watch at the same time.

Now, he waited for Indigo with taut anticipation in his gut.

Alone, they’d finally be alone—and within touching distance.

Indigo had gone down to the stream to bathe, and his wolf itched to prowl after her. She had the most beautiful body—all toned muscle and dangerous curves. He wanted to have the right to stroke those curves as he pleased, as pleased her. He wanted to have the right to watch her as she bathed, to caress her while she was sleek and wet. He just wanted.

Sucking in a breath as his cock hardened in response to his thoughts, he clenched the hands propped under his head, his gaze skyward. But no matter his teeth-gritting concentration, his body was still under no kind of control when he scented Indigo returning from her bath, all damp and fresh and lushly female. Damn. If she caught even a hint of his arousal, she’d put up that barrier of icy control between them before he could so much as blink.

It’d be almost impossible to get her to lower it a second time.

He flowed to his feet outside the tent, waiting only until she’d caught sight of him before hitching his thumb toward the forest, as if he was going to answer the call of nature. He faded into the solid bulk of the firs before she could do more than nod.

And then he ran.

 

 

Lying between the
unzipped halves of her sleeping bag—to ensure a fast exit should she need to move—Indigo finally gave up waiting for Drew and closed her eyes in the shallow sleep she’d learned to utilize in her first year on the watch rotation. Drew, she thought with an exasperated smile, had probably been seduced by the cold, clear night into going for a run.

Her wolf pouted, if a wolf could be said to pout. She’d wanted to go running as well, but had forced herself to come back to the campsite . . . though it hadn’t really taken much force, not when she knew Drew was waiting for her. Frowning, she shifted, uncomfortable with the direction of her thoughts, with the low hum of heat in her abdomen.

Her eyes snapped open as she identified the feeling. Lust. Desire. No doubt about it. When Drew had innocently shrugged off his T-shirt earlier, it hadn’t only been the teenage girls who’d taken notice. Indigo had sucked in a pleased breath at the sight of those solid shoulders, those muscular arms, that gleaming, healthy skin with a shimmer of gold. Then had come the moment in the tent when she’d found herself drinking in the masculine beauty of his naked form.

The prickle of heat in her belly, across her breasts, was exacerbated by the fact that she’d tasted Drew’s kiss, felt that strong body slippery and naked against her own. And now that Drew had let the genie out of the bottle, it refused to be put back in. It didn’t even matter that she knew nothing good could come of even a fleeting sexual relationship.

She’d seen with her own eyes what happened when a dominant female chose a less dominant male, much less one who was four years younger. Pain. Hurt. Anger. Over and over again. A vicious cycle.

None of that mattered to her body.

It knew Drew’s now—more, it knew that they had serious, combustible chemistry.

“It’s just been a long time, that’s all,” she muttered to herself, but even as she said the words, she knew them for a lie. Yes, she was an adult changeling female. Yes, she ached for touch. But she’d always been able to control her needs.

The heat low in her abdomen curled even tighter, a heavy, waiting warmth.

Glaring at the sky, she was in no mood to catch Drew’s scent tangled with the freshness of water. He’d obviously taken a dip in the stream after going running. He was, her mind supplied, likely naked—or at least half-naked. Determinedly shutting her eyes, she tried not to hear anything as he snuck in.

Except it was freaking impossible not to realize that he was throwing a sweaty pair of jeans in a corner and pulling on . . . something light, soft, something that brushed against his skin in a way she couldn’t identify with her ears alone. “You woke me up.”

He froze, and she knew he was looking at her, but she didn’t open her eyes. Refused to give in to the temptation to see what exactly he was wearing. She wasn’t some young female drunk on her own sexuality. She was a woman used to choosing her lovers with care—not being driven to it by the cravings of her body.

“You weren’t really asleep,” Drew said with a hint of a smile in his tone. “And I brought you a present.”

She wasn’t an acquisitive person, but neither was she dead. Blinking open her eyes at last, she couldn’t resist taking a slow tour of his body as he knelt to get something from the pocket of his discarded jeans. Muscled shoulders in shadow, a back so beautiful it cried out to be stroked . . . and boxers. Plain black and—“Silk boxers while we’re camping?”

A shrug that drew her attention to those shoulders again. “They were at the top of the clean laundry.” Finding whatever it was that he’d brought her, he flipped onto his front on his sleeping bag and braced himself on one arm, holding out something in a closed fist with the other.

She stared, suspicious. “I don’t smell anything.” The scent of him—wild and earthy and a little rough—curled around her in an almost physical caress . . . until her wolf growled and nudged at the human half to press her lips to his skin, to satiate the touch-hunger that suddenly had her at breaking point.

Drew extended his fisted hand a little farther. “Come on, Ms. Grumpy, take it.” A teasing smile that made her want to kiss it right off his lips . . . before she tumbled him to the ground and rubbed her body along the warm, muscled strength of his.

Swallowing the insane urge, she turned on her side and held out a hand. He placed a small, light object on her palm. “For your collection.”

She jerked into a sitting position when she saw what it was, crossing her bare legs under her as she brought the small piece of flat rock to her eye. The fossil embedded within it was delicate—a tiny, beautifully preserved leaf. Heart thudding, she brought it even closer.

When she turned to look at Drew’s face as he lay on his back, arms crossed under his head, she saw a smug smile. He looked so pleased with himself that she couldn’t help it—her own lips curved. “How did you know I collect fossils?”

“I see all and know all.”

Scrunching up her nose at him, she cupped the precious fossil in her palm and bent to kiss him on the lips. It was meant to be a thank-you kiss, a little bit of affection between packmates who were close, nothing more. But when he froze under her, when her body turned into one big flame, she knew she’d made a mistake. A mistake that might burn them both to ash.

Wrenching back from the searing contact, she looked down at him, her chest heaving. He watched her with those clear blue eyes that gave away nothing—but his body told its own story. And she could no more stop herself from looking than she could stop the racing beat of her own heart. The flat plane of his abdomen was taut, the golden silk of his skin broken up only by the thin line of dark hair that disappeared into the waistband of his boxers. The black silk strained against the proud ridge of his erection.

So strong and beautiful and male—every part of her body warmed with pleasure at having him near. She wanted to reach over, stroke the hard demand of his cock, cup him with her palm, make him lose the control that had his tendons standing out in stark relief against his sk—

She should’ve said something but couldn’t make her throat unlock, her mouth open. Then Drew shot her a sharp, sheepish grin. “Hey, I can’t help it if I’m male. Stupid biology.” Turning over, he pillowed his head on one arm and went to sleep.

She blinked, not sure what had just happened. But five minutes later and his breathing was easy, even. Putting the precious fossil in the side pocket of her pack—after wrapping it in the soft fabric of an old tee—she finally lay back down and pulled the top flap of her sleeping bag over her uncomfortable body. Her nipples rubbed against the fabric of her T-shirt, taut and aching. Her panties suddenly felt far too constricting, and her wolf—she was pissed at being denied.

Not Drew,
she told her wolf again.
I couldn’t bear to hurt him.
And she would. Because a relationship between a dominant female and a lower-ranking dominant male was never going to end in anything but disaster.

 

 

Andrew released his
fisted hand what felt like hours later, when he sensed Indigo drop off into real sleep at long last. Turning over carefully onto his back, conscious she’d wake to the slightest awareness of a threat, he allowed himself to run his gaze over the line of her body as she lay with her back to him. She’d kicked off the top of her sleeping bag and the long lines of her legs were bare below the white of her T-shirt, her skin smooth and oh-so-touchable.

Desire spiked again, but intertwined with it was an almost overwhelming tenderness. He wanted to curve his body around hers, wrap his arm over her waist, and tug her close. Just hold her. She might’ve let him earlier, but after that kiss . . . His gut went tight, his wolf pawing at the ground for another taste of her.

She’d wanted him. He’d seen the flare of shocked need in her eyes, glimpsed the hunger of the wolf. But as he’d already learned, when it came to Indigo, hunger alone would never be enough. A less stubborn man might’ve given up, but Andrew was playing for keeps.