by Nalini Singh
Page 46
To her endless relief, he slept like the dead.
And woke amorous.
Grace smiled as she wrapped her legs around his hips, met his sleepy-eyed kiss. Maybe she was wrong and the bad nights would return, but she didn't think so. Not when Cooper had spent the night with her tucked up tight against him, his arm locked around her waist.
"Possessive beast," she murmured when he bit her throat hard enough that she'd wear the mark all day.
She felt his lips curve against her as he licked over the brand.
TWO weeks after their return from the station, and with the den's power supply back to full strength as of five days earlier, Grace came home to find a bath in the room she now shared with Cooper. An honest-to-goodness bath, clawed feet and all. Filled with steaming water that carried a heady floral scent, delicate pink petals scattered over its surface.
Grace stared. She had no idea how he'd even gotten the thing into the room, much less how he'd arranged it so the water would be the perfect temperature when she arrived home. Shucking off her clothes, she slipped into it with a groan of pure pleasure. No one could say her man didn't know how to court a woman
- the entire pack was wondering why she was leading her lover on such a chase, even as they applauded his tactics.
The fact was, it had taken an agonizing level of self-control on her part not to surrender to the bond. She'd been teetering on the cusp of it the morning at the station, but after his confession about his nightmares, she'd known she had to wait, no matter if the hunger to bond with him was a constant ache inside her. Never did she want him to wonder why she'd accepted the bond, whether she'd done it only so he'd always know if she was safe.
He'd been a little shaky the first few days, his wolf waiting for the ax to fall. But as the nights continued to pass, dreamless and peaceful, he began to get aggravated by her resistance to the bond.
She'd danced in joy when he restarted his relentless campaign, complete with deliveries of romantic handmade chocolates. . . inscribed with sexual favors on the backs; the sudden appearance of a coveted new tool in her toolbox; and daily love-song requests on the internal SnowDancer radio station that had every adult in the pack - and some clever juveniles - tuning in at 9 p. m. to see what he'd ask for next. And how.
Her favorite was the time he'd dedicated it to, "The obstinate she-wolf who thinks I should learn the meaning of patience. " A pause before his growl turned silky. "Though last night, she threatened to murder me when I tried to demonstrate how good a student I've been. "
Mortified by the intimate tease, she'd blushed her way through the next day. . . but secretly, she liked being an
"obstinate she-wolf," loved that he never used the careful voice on her anymore, demonstrating his rock-solid belief in her emotional strength with every dirty trick he played as he attempted to wear down her resistance.
And Cooper had some very dirty tricks in his arsenal.
Moaning with remembered pleasure, she rose out of the bath, dried herself off, then shifted. Her wolf sniffed at itself, not too sure about the floral scent but deciding it was acceptable since Cooper's scent underlay it, embedded into her very skin. Jaw dropping in a wolfish grin, she padded to the door, pressed her paw to the special footpad to open it and slipped out, the door swinging shut behind her.
It took her no effort to track Cooper, his scent vivid to her every sense. He was outside, speaking to several of the senior soldiers. When she would've remained on the edge of the clearing, waiting for him to finish, he turned and smiled at her, angling his head in welcome.
She padded over to lean against his leg.
As she listened, Cooper finished working out some kind of a rotation schedule, and the soldiers began to break away one by one, the grins on their faces having nothing to do with work.
Cooper came down in a crouch after the last soldier left, stroking his hand down the slope of her back.
"You're such a pretty wolf, Grace. " She yipped in a request for play.
Hand fisting in her fur, he said, "Okay, you convinced me. Give me a minute. "
It took him less than that to strip and cache his clothes in the hollow created by the thick roots of a forest giant. A wonder of light and color, and she found herself faced with a heavy-boned wolf who had become a familiar playmate. He was at least a hand bigger than her, maybe twice her weight, his eyes shimmering yellow and his coat a luxuriant dark red.
She quivered as he pressed his body against hers, acting shy. . . before she pounced up to grip at his neck with her teeth. He snapped his own teeth in a pretend growl and nipped at her ear as she jumped back, making her release a startled squeak-bark.
A wolfish laugh.
Snarling, she attacked him and they rolled around on the grass, wrestling and whipping around one another. She knew he was letting her play - he was so much bigger and stronger that it would've taken him but a second to seize control.
But she also knew he was having fun. So when a low-hanging branch distracted him, she took off.
Grace didn't like being chased as a rule - it was scary, stressful. . . except when it was Cooper doing the chasing.
Then it was fun.
Heart thudding, she scrambled up hills and across clearings, aware of him gaining on her - and then his paws were on her shoulders, taking her down. It was a classic demand for submission, but when the bigger wolf nuzzled at her and jumped off, she knew he was telling her he'd won the game, nothing more.
Grinning, she rose up to her full height and yawned in a gesture of impertinence.
Cooper bared his teeth at his mate - if the contrary female would just accept the bond - and stared into her eyes. She stared back, unafraid, her tail up, her gaze bright. Had anyone come upon them, they might have believed she challenged him, but that wasn't it at all.
It felt as if she was adoring him.
All at once, her form dissolved in faceted sparks of color.
He shifted alongside her and let out an "oomph" as she pounced on him again, playful as a pup. "Hi, Cooper. " His cheeks creased where he lay on his back with her over him. "Hi, Grace. "
"Guess what?" A very wolfish angle to her head.
"What?"
Leaning in close, she whispered. "I decided. "
His spine bowed as the mating bond locked into place, as gentle and as fierce a thing as Grace herself.
Throwing back his head, he howled his joy, heard the wild wolves howl back.
And then he heard his Grace, her voice melding with his in a harmony that was their song of the heart.
Texture of Intimacy Chapter 1
Surcease
THE PURE PSY army, formed of militant Psy who believe the Silence Protocol is the salvation of their race, that emotion is the enemy, and that the changelings, with their wild hearts, represent all that is wrong in the world, has been defeated. Broken on the wings of an alliance that stretches across the three races that form the triumvirate that is the world.
Human.
Psy.
Changeling.
The lines have shifted forever.
Will shift further. . . but not just yet.
N o w , this, is a moment free of violence, a timeless pause in which a Psy formed in Silence, and a SnowDancer wolf born to heal, discover the searing pleasures and startling textures of an intimacy luminous with hope.
Chapter 1
LARA WOKE SKIN-TO-SKIN with a long, hard male body, her head tucked under his chin, her hands against his chest, her legs intertwined with his. Lean muscle and a rough masculine heat, he surrounded her, possessed her.
As she did him.
Eyes still closed, she luxuriated in the scent of dark water and snow-dusted firs. . . and the exquisite tug of a bond that tied her inexorably to the quiet, powerful telepath who was the only man she had ever wanted to call her own.
Mine.
Opening her eyes on that primal thought, she flexed her hand on the tensile strength of Walker's chest, the firm surface covered with a sprinkling of dark blond that was an invitation to her senses. Her wolf rubbed up against the inside of her skin, unable to contain its delight, wanting only to touch, to pet.
"Unconditional skin privileges. " That's what her mate had given her.
And she had every intention of taking advantage, her thirst for him endless.
How could it be otherwise when he was such an intelligent, dangerous, beautiful man? The ease of sleep did nothing to hide the fact that he was built lean and strong.
Wide shoulders, ridged abdomen, taut muscle, and a will akin to steel, this was a man who would stand unflinching against any wind. And he w as hers, touched her with a devotion that was breathtaking in its passion, piercing in its honesty.
Shivering at the painful beauty of the bond that connected them, she shifted to look down into a face that was all clean angles and sun-golden skin, which betrayed how much time he spent out of doors. His lashes threw crescent shadows on his cheeks, his dark blond hair threaded with the finest sprinkling of silver.
Butterflies in her stomach.
He was, she thought, one of those men who would only become better looking with age, the determined force of his personality reflected on his face.
Given that he was already the sexiest man she knew, she was going to be in serious trouble as the years passed - a single look, and she had the feeling she'd fold like cooked spaghetti.
The thought of growing old with him made her blood turn effervescent, the natural dark tan of her skin turn radiant with warmth. Unable to hold in the happiness, she pushed back her unruly curls and leaned down to brush her mouth over his, felt his lips curve the slightest fraction. "I knew you were awake. " The wolf that was her other half scampered playfully inside her mind.
He ran his hand up and down her back. "Is it time to get up?"
Lara wouldn't have bothered checking the time if not for Marlee and Toby, pups who were under Walker's protection. . . and now her own. Her family. One was his daughter, the other his nephew, but he was father to them both, this man who had been willing to give up his life on the slim chance that the children would find sanctuary in SnowDancer.
"No," she said after a quick glance at the small comm unit on the bedside table. "It's been less than an hour. " An hour of peace, the battle won, the enemy routed so decisively they'd prove only a lack of intelligence should they decide to return.
