Tangle of Need

“If you’re imagining me with pom-poms,” she said, glimpsing the renewed gleam in his eye, “stop right now.” The effect of her order was somewhat diluted by the laughter that continued to dance in her blood.

“Or what?” Unrepentant, he tumbled her over onto her back, but in spite of the wickedness in his expression, his next words were deadly serious. “He’s going to die, Sienna. No one threatens my mate and gets away with it.”

Ming had been her private nightmare for a long time. That was before she’d been claimed by an alpha wolf who had a ruthless will when it came to protecting those who were his own. Sienna understood that part of him—because it lived in her, too. Anyone who dared hurt Hawke would beg for mercy by the time Sienna was done with them.

“We have to have a plan,” she said, speaking to the wintry-eyed predator that watched her out of the man’s face. “One so good, Ming’s abilities won’t save him.” The Psy male was a telepath specializing in mental combat, could slice through minds as if he had blades in his hands. “You and I will have to work as a team and trust certain others to assist—the most critical problem we have to solve is how to dispose of him without impacting the innocent in the Net.”

Hawke’s hand closed around her throat, the possessiveness of his hold echoed by the raw demand of his kiss. “You are so perfect for me”—hot words against her lips—“I’d steal you if you weren’t already mine.”

Surrounded by the strength and heat and wildness of him, she had never felt so ready to take on a nightmare. “I think we should call it ‘Operation Ming Is a Dead Man Walking.’”

A feral grin on his face, Hawke leaned down until the night-glow of his eyes was only a centimeter away. “He won’t be walking for long. We’ll make sure of it.”

RIAZ knew he had Adria’s heart and her commitment as he accompanied her down to the den the next afternoon. She would never again try to leave him. Not that he’d allow it, he thought with an inward growl. But he also knew she hid within her a deep vein of wariness, and he hated that she was unsure of his love on any level. Hated it.

Patience, he counseled his wolf, but when it came to Adria, he wasn’t patient. Like any lone wolf who had made up his mind about his woman, he was pitiless in his determination. “I never canceled our request for couples quarters and it came through two days ago,” he told her, feet set apart and hands on his hips, ready for the fight she was no doubt about to give him. “We’re moving.”

A stiffening of her jaw. “Nice to be asked.”

Hackles paradoxically flattening at the acerbic edge in her voice, he snagged her around the waist and kissed her until she bit at his lip to get some air. Grinning at the sting that told him his empress was back, he said, “I’ll let you pick the sheets.”

She snarled at him, letting him feel her claws, but, to his surprise, cooperated in the move. Since the anchor detail was now at a low pitch, they had time to do it that day.

It was around nine at night that Adria gave a very welcome laugh and said, “You’re a menace.”

A slow grin spread across his face as he saw she’d found the bear he’d carved sleeping belly-up, a big smile on its face and a bottle of beer in one paw. “He had a party with the skunk.”

Adria put the bear next to the drunken skunk on the shelf he’d put up for her to keep her mechanical puzzles. “You have more, don’t you?”

He made a noncommittal sound … and found himself pounced on, as she tried to threaten the answer out of him. Turning the tables, he had her in giggles, and then he had her sighing and arching underneath him, her body molten with welcome. Afterward, she lay with her hand on his heart, his thigh pushed between her own.

Nipping at her ear, he said, “Are you ever going to admit to the fact you’re a maternal dominant?” It happened once or twice in every generation, a maternal female with such aggressive protective tendencies that she chose to train as a soldier. But nothing, Riaz thought, could change the steely core of compassion that made the maternals who they were, that inherent kindness intertwined with strength reflected in Adria’s every action.

Her laugh was husky. “What kind of lieutenant would you be if you couldn’t figure it out, hmm?” She wrote her initials over his heart, as if marking him. “Nell was faster than anyone else to peg me—she wants me in the maternal cabal.”

Grinning at her description of the power at the heart of the pack, he tucked her hair behind her ear so he could see her face. “Interested?”

“I dunno—it’s like the mafia. Once you’re in, you can never get out.” A smile that danced with mischief, but her next words were thoughtful. “I chose to train as a soldier because it suits my wolf—I’m too aggressive to be a full-time maternal.”

“You’re great with the submissives.” Ensuring the health of their young was only one aspect of the complex duties undertaken by the maternal females, but it was an important one.

“Yes.” Another design on his chest, this one more aimless. “Working with pups and juveniles fulfills the other side of my nature. So the setup I currently have is about perfect … though, I might open a channel with the cabal.” Another wicked grin. “It’d be nice to get their input on some things, plus since I’ll have a foot in both camps, it’ll be a way to make sure nothing slips between the cracks when it comes to the children.”

“Do you think Riley had that in mind all along?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me—even dopey over Mercy, he thinks ten steps ahead.” Stealing a smiling kiss, she settled herself more closely against him and closed her eyes. “Go to sleep. We have to get up early.”

“Good night, Empress.”

“Good night, Golden Eyes.”

He smiled, nibbled at her ear again. “Say that in public and you’ll be sorry.”

“Now you’ve gone and dared me. Don’t you know never to do that with a maternal female?”

Riaz growled playfully at her. He was happy deep in his heart … but not content, because this laughing woman who had his wolf’s devotion, a woman he adored beyond life itself, expected him to leave her, maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day. It was a hidden shadow in the violet-blue, a darkness he only glimpsed when she thought he wasn’t watching. … and it eviscerated him.

He refused to allow her to hurt that way. Fucking refused.

JUDD was unsurprised to see Aden on the back steps of Xavier’s church a week after the attack on Sonja. “The anchors in this region are safe,” he told the Arrow. Each and every one had been moved, their locations known only to Nikita and Anthony, no backup files kept either on the Net or outside. But to everyone’s surprise, the telepathic file containing images that could be used for a teleport lock in an emergency, had also been sent to Sascha.

“My daughter’s flaw,” Nikita had said during the meeting, staring right across at that daughter, “makes her the lone individual we can trust absolutely not to use the information to cause harm.”

Sascha’s reply had been as frank. “I’ll share it with Judd—he’s the only person who’d be able to get to the anchors in an emergency.”

“The decision is yours,” Nikita had said. “As an E, you have the capability to judge whether or not a former Arrow will use the information to kill.”

It was, Judd knew, the first time Nikita had ever acknowledged that Sascha wasn’t a failed cardinal, but a powerful one. And because he, Sascha, Lucas, and Hawke all knew that even if the civil war in the Net turned brutal and threatened to engulf the packs, none of them would seek to collapse the Net, to murder indiscriminately, he held the file inside his mind, tucked away in a section that would immediately and automatically degrade if his shields were ever breached.

Only the people who had been at that meeting, as well as Walker and Sienna, knew that he and Sascha carried the files. The information was too explosive, too dangerous, could make them both targets if it got out. Unless an anchor in the relevant area sent out an emergency distress call, no one would ever know.

“The same is being attempted in every region across the world,” Aden now said, “but the task is massive, and the majority of cities don’t have the resources of two Councilors. For the time being, we’re recommending the anchors move their furniture around in unexpected ways and never go unarmed.”

No Tk ever used the layout of furniture as a lock—it was too transient. And all teleport-capable Tks had an inbuilt space-sensing ability that meant they would never materialize in solid matter. Unless there was a psychic failure, the teleport would abort at the obstruction. However, if a Tk did ’port in, the unfamiliar layout could grant the anchor an extra few seconds in which to run or use a weapon. “It’s a smart move.”

“Henry is dead.”

“You?”

“Vasic.” A pause. “We can’t trust him, not after this is done.”

Judd didn’t misunderstand the warning. “The children in the Arrow schools,” he said, instead of responding directly to the statement, “who’s watching out for them?” Even with the darkness swallowing the Net and the Arrows’ attention, Aden would not have forgotten their youngest brethren.

“The most stable of us each have a group we monitor.” Aden passed Judd a small black data crystal. “The names and addresses of the children. If anything happens to us, they are the ones you must protect.” A pause. “Trust it to Walker—he’ll understand and be able to help them better than you or I.”

Judd put the crystal into the inside pocket of his leather-synth jacket, the act an unspoken promise. “Does Vasic monitor a group?” Vasic might not feel, but he had a conscience, would never damage a child by abandoning him. That conscience was why the Tk-V hated himself, though he would not put it in those terms. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">