Mercy closed her eyes, the better to savor the most incredible pleasure she’d ever felt. She was never ever going to accuse Riley of being uncreative again. The man had plenty of imagination. Plenty. His tongue was doing things to her that she knew were illegal somewhere, and—“Riley!” Her body shook under the force of a wickedly powerful orgasm as he closed his mouth over her clit, sucking hard.
He petted her thigh, calming her down . . . then stroked those same fingers over the excruciatingly sensitive flesh of her opening. She tried to squeeze her thighs closed, but his strong, muscular body kept them open while his mouth ravaged her. Those teasing fingers rubbed a little harder, and then one began to slide inside.
She opened her eyes, but saw only a wash of color as her brain tried to process the amount of sensation going through her body. It failed. Color exploded in every direction, and the muscles in her body went taut, her claws slicing out to pierce the tree trunk as she gave in to the wildness and rode the pleasure.
When she surfaced, it was to the feel of a hot, hard, and lusciously naked male body behind her own, one strong hand cupping her between the thighs. Petting her. Easing her down. He might’ve been a wolf, but Riley knew how to deal with a cat.
Smiling, sated, she rolled her bottom against him. His growl was everything she could’ve hoped for. Cool, calm Riley Kincaid had lost control. His hand withdrew from between her legs to clamp over her hips, holding her in place . . . no, he was urging her to bend a little, to change her stance.
She cooperated, and a split second after she’d settled her hands on the trunk again, he slid into her. “Riley!” It was a short, startled scream.
He froze and his voice, when it came, was more wolf than man. “Hurt?”
She shook her head at once. “I—” Her throat was raw, her voice husky. “I’m so sensitive. And you’re so damn thick.”
He chuckled, and the wolf’s arrogance was very much in evidence. “You like it.” He rocked against her.
Moaning, she found that her body was tightening again, readying itself for another wild ride. “Do that again.”
He did. And again. She was just getting into the rhythm of it when he withdrew almost completely and thrust back in slow, oh-so-slow. Sensitized nerve endings went crazy and she found herself making hungry sounds in the bottom of her throat. He growled in response and picked up the pace. Hard and thick, he was a perfect fit. He seemed to touch every single pleasure point as he went in, then again as he came out. Stomach tensing with the need to come, to take him with her, she cried out.
And the world exploded.
Mercy surfaced to the awareness that she was lying on something soft. Touching it, she realized it was what remained of her and Riley’s T-shirts. He’d made her a nest. Aw. Turning, she propped herself on one elbow and looked down at the male lying beside her. He had his eyes closed, and for the first time, she noticed that he had the same rich chocolate brown lashes as his brother, Andrew. Long and lush and curling slightly at the ends. Pretty lashes.
Delighted by the discovery, she leaned over and rubbed her nose gently against his. His lips curved but his eyes remained closed. One hand ran in a slow glide up and down over her back. “How was your nap, kitty?”
She nipped him on the chin. “Don’t push your luck, Kincaid.”
His lashes lifted, to reveal warm brown eyes full of languor. “You’re purring.”
“Yeah, so?” She dared him to make something of it.
Of course, since it was Riley, he did. “So I made you purr.” A smug smile.
She frowned. “This is now officially a two-night stand.”
“It’s not night.” He kept stroking her back.
His big, deliciously callused hand felt so good on her that she almost sighed. “You know what I mean.”
“Why?” The lazy lover was rapidly being replaced by the Riley she knew and . . . lived to irritate.
“Okay,” she said, “maybe you’re not the spawn of Satan as I originally thought—”
“Thanks.”
“But”—she glared at him for the interruption—“you’d be hell to be in a relationship with. HELL. In capital letters.” Part of her own mind vehemently disagreed—sleeping with him last night, it had been something special, an experience that wrapped around her heart and made her want to take the wildest of chances. But that Riley might never again make an appearance, not if the lieutenant decided to contain him using his formidable self-control.
“I do have an ego, Mercy.”
Hearing the warning in his voice, she ran her fingers through his hair. Beautiful and thick, it slid over her hands like water. “Riley, you still try to order Brenna around, and she’s mated, for chrissakes.”
“She’s my baby sister. I’ll try to order her around when she’s eighty and a great-grandmother.”
“See!”
“No, I don’t see. There’s a crucial difference between you and Brenna. You’re not my sister. Thank God.”
Mercy made a sound of frustration and sat up on her haunches. “It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that you’re anal about control. You’d try to handle me.” And she was not a woman who’d take kindly to that. More . . . it would hurt her if she gave him her trust and he abused it by attempting to turn her into something she wasn’t.
Sitting up, Riley looked at her for several long minutes. “How about if I promise not to treat you as anything but my lover?”
“You can’t,” she said, curling her fingers into fists to stop from reaching out to caress him. “You’re a dominant wolf male.” Possession was in his blood.
“Fine.” He scowled. “But the fact is, we burn up together and we both have no one else that we see as a potential partner. What’s wrong with helping each other release the tension until we find our mates?”
Mercy wanted to snap at him for that blithe assumption. But the truth was, he probably would find a mate. His chances were higher than hers—dominant males had no problem mating with less dominant, or submissive, females. And Riley, of course, was looking for exactly that type of woman. “What if I don’t want to be your fuck buddy?”
He kissed her. Slow and wet and openly possessive. “You do.” Another kiss, a quick nip at her lower lip. “Do the words ‘nose,’ ‘spite,’ ‘face,’ have any meaning to you?”
She was not cutting off her nose to spite her face. She wasn’t. Okay, maybe she’d considered it. “If we do this, you have to know—the instant you go ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’ on me, I’m kicking your wolf ass out of my bed.” Her hands closed over his shoulders, claws kneading. “Understood?”
“I understand you’ll try to kick me out.” A smile that began as a bare curve of his lips, and ended up creasing his cheeks with lean male dimples. “Maybe you’ll win.”
Since when did the sight of his smile tug at things low and deep in her? “Maybe you’re delusional—and I’m undeniably insane for even considering this, but let’s try it.”
Riley’s wolf bared its teeth inside him. He wanted Mercy, craved her until it was a gnawing ache in his gut. It was far more than sex now, even if the stubborn cat wouldn’t admit it. But since it was patently clear that a full-frontal assault wouldn’t work, he’d adopt cat methods and stalk her. And if he had to swipe the competition away with his claws . . . well, they shouldn’t have gotten in his way. Because Mercy was his.
CHAPTER 19
Midmorning the next day, Riley talked to Judd as they supervised several eight-year-olds in the White Zone while their teachers went on a break. “So, did your contact come through?”
“Says the Council’s downplaying any link between the shooter and the other incidents of violence.” His voice was cool, his eyes intent. “It could be the truth.”
Having learned something of how the PsyNet functioned, Riley took a moment to think. “The rebel activities in the Net have anything to do with that?”
His fellow lieutenant nodded. “Silence didn’t magically happen one day—Psy chose it because
we were going insane on a phenomenal level. If that Silence is now starting to fragment . . .”
“Then we’re going to see more of this. Like that murder-suicide Dorian found.” An entire family butchered after the head of the family shattered in the most lethal way.
“Yeah.” Judd’s face was bleak.
Riley could understand why. The Laurens had left the PsyNet, but they still cared about those trapped in emotionless Silence . . . and yet that very Silence might be all that was keeping those others alive. “But say it’s not because of the trouble in the Net,” he said. “How high are the chances of that?”
“High,” Judd said to his surprise. “Apparently, there’s evidence the shooter was acting under a compulsion. It’s possible the others were, too.” He glanced at Riley. “If that guy from yesterday survives, we might find out more.”
Riley thought of the images he’d seen. “His brain was all but leaking out his ears—even if he survives, he might not remember anything.”
“But if he was coerced, the telepath who programmed him might’ve left a psychic fingerprint.” A pause. “I won’t be passing on the info about the survivor to my contact.”
“I think that’s a good call—DarkRiver’s being very close-mouthed about their source.” The SnowDancer lieutenant understood their care, but the man didn’t like the evidence of the continued separation between the two packs, seeing in it a solid barrier to his pursuit of Mercy.
“Can’t blame them—trust is an expensive commodity in the Net.”
Riley kicked back a soccer ball that had rolled to his feet. “Your contact, would it be the Ghost?” he said, naming a rebel so notorious, he’d started to become known outside the Net.
“Yes.”
“Do you know who he is?”
Judd watched the children play, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. “I have my suspicions, but he’s been very, very careful. I’m not even going to speculate until he’s ready to blow his cover.”
“Fair enough.” Riley folded his arms. “But you sure his word is gold?”
“He’s dangerous,” Judd said. “Brutal at times. He’d do anything to protect the Psy, lie, even kill. But then, if it concerned the pack, so would Hawke.”
“Point taken.” The SnowDancer alpha had honor, but it came second to defending those under his care. “You think the Council will keep playing meek? We haven’t had any real problems with them for months.”
“They’re up to something. We’ll find out about it sooner or later.” Judd’s eyes narrowed. “It’s the Human Alliance that concerns me right now.”
Riley nodded. The recent slew of violence spoke of an organization that cared little for its own people, much less those they attacked. “Did you find anything in the surveillance footage from the airport?”
“Bowen’s intel was solid—a number of mercenaries got off three different planes from Europe. They’re hiding in our city.”
Riley didn’t ask how Judd had recognized them—the man had been an assassin, after all. “Fuck. That means this isn’t over.”
Learning that mercenaries had entered the city worried Mercy as much as it did Riley, and she conferenced with Clay to make sure the Rats knew what to look for. The spy network run by Teijan, the Rat alpha, and his people, was extraordinary. But the Alliance people were somehow managing to stay under the radar.
Still, after a SnowDancer-DarkRiver discussion, they decided to increase their visible presence in the city. It would let the mercenaries know they were under surveillance, which might be enough to derail their plans.
Since she didn’t have a shift in the surveillance rotation until the next day, Mercy intended to use her time to catch up on her work for CTX, the communications network run by DarkRiver and SnowDancer. She was in the process of upgrading the security protocols for all stations, a vital precaution since CTX was breaking more and more inflammatory stories.
However, first she had to deal with another problem. Tracking Eduardo down to the guest cabin he and Joaquin were using on DarkRiver land, she folded her arms and looked him full in the face. Dark eyes, dark hair, bronze skin, perfect bone structure, sinful smile. “So, you come to me,” he said in deliciously accented English.
And, Mercy thought with inward amusement, the arrogant cat knew precisely how he sounded. After having grown up with three gorgeous younger brothers, there was little she didn’t know about the male ego. “I came to tell you we have no ‘chemistry.’ Zero. Zip. Zilch. So go away.”
His smile changed into something dangerous, determined. “You haven’t given me a chance. Spend some time with me—a mating isn’t always obvious.”
“Eduardo, you’re not an idiot. You have to know I’m with Riley.” She still couldn’t quite believe she’d agreed to be his lover. Part of her was convinced it wouldn’t work—they clashed far too often. But another part of her was exhilarated, ready to take on the wolf on every level and then some.
Eduardo shrugged, tone insouciant when he answered. “You don’t wear his scent. You haven’t accepted him as a leopard female needs to accept a male. Means the coast is clear.”
The way he said that disturbed her enough to agitate the leopard. “I might never wear any man’s scent.” The leopard liked running wild. To be tied that intrinsically to another, until their scents melded, was something that made it restless, wary. “But even then, we’d have zero chemistry.”
He stood from his half-sitting position against the railing and gave her a smile that she figured would’ve sent most women into orgasm on the spot. “How about a kiss to test that theory?”
“How about you stay right there.” It was a command. “I need to get to work—and you should go home.”
A very Latin sigh. “You break my heart, Mercy.”
“I’m sure you’ll find someone to patch it up for you.” She’d already had a few inquiries from interested parties as to whether “the sexy one with gorgeous eyes” was off-limits. They continued to be a little wary of the “dangerous bite of beautiful.” “I’ve told the women of the pack that you’re free to a good home.”
“Such cruelty.” But he smiled and it was real this time, stripped of the charm he’d used as a mask till then. Eduardo was as lethal as any of the sentinels in her own pack, his protective nature honed to a fine edge—he’d make as possessive a mate as Riley.
She scowled. All this talk of mating was starting to affect her sanity. Riley would never be her mate. Heat aside, she wasn’t what he was looking for, and he was exactly the kind of man who made her cat the most wary . . . in spite of the fact that it was his strength that drew her to him.
A painful paradox.
Maybe she’d been right in what she’d said to Tammy—perhaps she’d never be able to surrender that absolutely to a man, to trust him with that much of herself. It was a real possibility that one day soon, she’d have to watch Riley mate with someone else. Her hand fisted. “Call it what you like,” she said to Eduardo, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He shrugged. “I’ll stay—after all, Joaquin’s still in with a shot.”
Not deigning to answer, she turned on her heel and left, arriving at her current CTX station just after lunch. She had every intention of working with single-minded focus, but couldn’t forget the disturbing ferocity of her reaction to the thought of Riley mating with another woman, a woman who’d have the right to touch him, kiss him, hold him when his demons got too bad. Even now, as she made her way to the garage, the idea made her blood ignite.
“Security cameras, check, weapons detection system, needed,” she muttered in an effort to drown out the cat’s angry hissing. “Can’t do much about Psy teleporters, though. How do you detect someone who poofs in?”
A familiar scent came to her on quiet air currents. “Talking to yourself, big sis?”
She pecked her middle brother, Sage, on the cheek. “I smelled you a mile off, Herb.” It was an old joke, one that never failed to make him scowl.
It didn�
��t today either. “Ha-ha. This is my I’m-not-amused face.” That done, he put his camera equipment on the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess where I just was.”
Based on the now genuinely pained expression on his face, she said, “Lifestyles of the rich and famous?” Sage normally covered the crime beat.
“Close. I had to sit through an interview with Bibi Pink.” He looked like he was about to throw up. “If she has three brain cells, I’m a frickin’ wolf.”
Mercy’s stomach dipped at the way he said “wolf.” What would her family say if they realized she was consorting with the enemy on a very intimate basis? “Who did you piss off to get on that?”
“Nobody—it was Eamon’s turn to do the celebrity stuff, but he got called out to a shooting at the Berkeley campus. I was the closest to Bibi so I covered.”
“Another shooting?” Frowning, she turned to look at her brother. Sage had inherited the family red hair, but on him, the red was tangled with so much brown, most people didn’t realize he had any red at all until he walked out into the sun. “Details.”
Deep hazel eyes frowned. “Would it hurt you to say please?”
“Would you prefer I broke your arm?” She’d grown up with three little hooligans who didn’t seem to understand the meaning of a closed door. If she’d let them, they’d have swarmed her like a horde of locusts. “Give it up, hotshot.”
“Abuse,” he said, but then gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek, the scent of him a familiar and much loved touch of firs dusted with snow, and the sweet crushed nutmeg of home. He’d hate to be described that way, but that was how she saw him—if Bastien was the rock, and Grey the sea, then Sage was the tide. Fluid. Enduring.
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