Storm echo, p.25
Storm Echo, page 25
“I bought you a dress,” he said without warning. “When I came to find you at the hospital. Because your other dress had been so badly damaged. I could only find an automated shop, so it’s not the best quality.”
With any other man, she’d have thought he was trying to insult her current choice of clothing, but Ivan, she already understood, didn’t think that way. So it was disappointment that bit at her. “Oh.” She fiddled with the strap of her bag. “What happened to it?”
“I have it upstairs.”
This time she did stare at him—and yes, that was very definitely discomfort on his face. “What?”
“I’ve carried it around with me since the day I bought it.” He glanced away, as if unable to hold her gaze.
She was already his, but she kept on falling faster and deeper. And he thought she was going to just let him lock himself up and throw away the key? Oh hell no. “Can I see it?”
A nod, and he headed back upstairs. She followed him, putting her handbag on the floor of the bedroom as he went to the closet. He opened it to reveal neat rows of clothes, including three suits. Her stomach pitched at the thought of what Ivan would look like in a suit.
“Smoking” was the word that came to mind.
He bent down to grab something as she was waving a hand in front of her face to cool herself down, said, “I have your daypack. You left it in the car.”
Soleil put it beside her handbag when he passed it over. “I knew you’d keep it safe.”
Reaching up to the shelf above the hanging rail without responding to that, he picked up a sealed bag like she’d seen come out of the one automated store she’d ever experienced. “I’ll go outside if you want to try it on,” he said after giving it to her.
When she nodded, he left, closing the door behind himself.
Her fingers trembled a little as she opened the sealed package. To reveal fabric of a joyous lemon yellow. She gasped and picked it up by the shoulders. It fell in a sweep of the softest linen imaginable. It was sleeveless, the straps made up of tiny white embroidered flowers.
The same flowers appeared as a splash on the hem of the dress, which would hit her just above the ankles. There, the white blooms were joined by pinks, darker purples, myriad other shades, until it was a wildflower meadow.
Giving a little skip of joy, she stripped out of her borrowed clothes and pulled on the dress, not looking in the mirror until she’d zipped it up. All the air rushed out of her. The color made her skin glow, and the little flower details just made her happy.
She immediately felt prettier, more real, more herself.
Turning, she put her other clothes in her daypack, then chewed on her lower lip. The dress didn’t fit quite right because of her weight loss, and she didn’t want to advertise that. But she didn’t want to put her sweater back on, either.
Her eyes went to the leather-synth jacket hanging in the closet.
Flushing but determined, she took it out of the closet, shrugged into it, then rolled up the sleeves of the well-worn leather-synth. It was butter soft. Far too big on her but in a fashionable way. She looked like a woman wearing her boyfriend’s jacket.
Her cheeks pinked.
Twirling a little and feeling happy, just happy, she slung her pretty pink bag back over her shoulder and opened the door.
Ivan was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, watched her with unwavering intensity as she walked down.
“I borrowed your jacket,” she murmured. “Sorry.” But she wasn’t sorry, not when the scent of him surrounded her—and not when he was looking at her in a way that said she was the total center of his attention.
He didn’t respond verbally, just held the door open for her so she could slip out. “I sent a message to Kaleb Krychek,” he said as they walked down the street, then told her the content of that message.
Soleil raised her eyebrows. “You have his direct number?” The entire world knew that Kaleb Krychek was a power. The one time she’d been anywhere near his vicinity—far on the other side of a public square—he’d made the hairs rise on the back of her neck, her cat sensing a mortal threat.
“Only my grandmother and my cousin Silver—she used to be his senior aide—have his personal line,” Ivan told her. “But I have access to another priority line. Family connections.”
“Some family.” She laughed and when Ivan glanced at her, she said, “I’ve gone from being a lone ocelot who knew no one and nobody important to being a member of one of the most powerful packs in the country—and my sweetheart is part of a family that sounds like it might be the mafia, but I’m okay with that.”
Ivan didn’t seem to know how to respond to being called her sweetheart.
Grinning, she tucked her arm through his and leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw. He’d given her skin privileges and he’d never withdrawn them and she intended to take full advantage of them to strengthen their bond. She was a cat, wasn’t she? Sneaky was in her DNA.
His skin was smooth and unbristled under her lips. He must’ve run a shaver over it in the shower. “You smell so delicious, mi cariño,” she murmured, giving him a little nuzzle.
“Lei.” A rough sound, but it wasn’t one that told her to back off.
She looked up, heart sparkling, to see tension in the lines of his face, color on his cheekbones. Her tough, dangerous man didn’t know how to handle her. It was adorable. “This place looks good,” she said, nodding at the small Chinese restaurant to their right. “What do you think?”
“Food is fuel” was the cool response that betrayed nothing of the tension yet in his body. “Taste doesn’t matter.”
“So I should find you a place that does mushroom tarts, then?” Laughing at his icy look, she tugged him toward the restaurant, her cat rubbing up against her skin, playful and delighted by him.
It was busy inside, but not jam-packed. “Too many people?”
“No. I grew up in a city.”
Her heart hitched. Because he hadn’t only grown up in a city, he’d literally lived on the streets, a boy with no real identity. A boy whose mother had erased him so he’d fit into her chosen life. Overwhelmed by a surge of protectiveness, she took them to a table at the back where he’d have the most personal space.
After they were seated, with Ivan choosing the seat that put his back to a wall, she took charge of ordering, sticking to simple items with the highest energy values. The staff member who took her order was a polite and efficient woman; she also couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Ivan.
Soleil even caught her biting down on her lower lip.
Her cat smirked. Yes, he was delicious. He was also hers. The other woman could look all she liked, but try to touch and she’d be dealing with a shredded hand.
“That’s it,” she said after completing the large order, because though she’d had a good breakfast, she was hungry, too. Which told her that she’d spent more energy pulling him back from the island than she’d realized. “Thank you.”
The waitress left with one last quick glance at Ivan.
He didn’t reciprocate. When his eyes fixed on a point just beyond her left shoulder, she said, “What is it?” Her cat hissed at the same instant.
“Krychek,” he said. “He decided to respond to my message in person.”
Chapter 39
It’s rumored that Krychek is a dual cardinal. Anyone have any actual intel on that? It would definitely explain the level of his power. I’m fairly certain the man could flatten a city without breaking a sweat.
—Anonymous poster on an online bulletin board
A COLD WIND at Soleil’s back, the force of Kaleb Krychek’s power a dark wave akin to a storm. The entire restaurant had fallen silent at his entry, stayed that way as he walked toward them. It was as if the diners were all holding their breath—but it wasn’t only the silence of prey.
There were changelings in this restaurant—leopards and wolves who’d clocked the mark on Soleil’s cheek the instant she entered, and inclined their heads in quiet welcome. All of those changelings watched him with the eyes of fellow predators. They knew he was dangerous, and though he might be permitted in the territory, they never forgot the threat of him.
“I apologize for interrupting,” he said on reaching them, his voice midnight that sank into your bones and his flawlessly fitted suit black on black. “But I must speak to you, Ivan.”
In front of her, Ivan had become a blank wall. If he saw Krychek as a threat, it was invisible to the room. No trace remained of the man who’d been so awkward about the blazer, or the one who hadn’t known how to deal with her calling him her sweetheart.
It hurt her to know that he was so used to shutting himself off that he could do it at will.
“Join us,” Ivan said, his tone flat, giving nothing away. “Soleil is an important part of this conversation.”
Krychek glanced at her with those eyes of starlight obsidian before taking a seat—on a chair that was suddenly there where it hadn’t been before. He was a teleport-capable telekinetic, that much was public knowledge. But she’d never seen such a seamless exhibition of telekinetic strength.
Wild Woman magazine was right in calling him “as hot as lava”—he was one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen. But like lava, he was better viewed from a safe distance. Which made her intrigued about the woman who was his mate. She’d picked up the news of his mating at some point, been befuddled by it. Who would want to sleep with a man who was the living embodiment of a cold and icy death?
Ahem, Soleil, whispered the part of Farah that would always live within her, your sweetheart is currently doing an excellent impression of a gorgeous statue carved out of black ice himself. Other women might possibly find him intimidating.
The echo of Farah had a point.
“To answer the question in your message,” Krychek said to Ivan, “no one knows what’s taking place on that island. No one, except, it appears, you.”
The silence that fell this time was between the three of them, as Soleil and Ivan processed the meaning of his statement.
Ivan spoke at last. “I realize that’s the Ruling Coalition’s public stance, but I find it hard to believe given the extent of your power.”
“It’s the truth. Even I can’t bridge a psychic cavity that large.” No annoyance or frustration or anger in his tone, nothing at all to give away his emotions.
“The anchors, too, have been thwarted,” Krychek continued. “Though the island remains linked to the main anchor network, it’s precarious. They tell me the connection through which anchor energy should flow—the veins and arteries of the system—are viscous and close to impenetrable.”
Most people didn’t know much about anchors or how they worked. But Ivan had grown up with Canto in his life, and Canto was a cardinal anchor. “That’s a bad move on the part of those behind the island,” he said. “Even multiple anchors can’t maintain the island without the shared energy of the others.”
“They don’t seem to be worried about that for the present.” Krychek shifted those pitiless cardinal eyes to Soleil. “You’re not Psy. How can you impact the situation?”
It was a perfectly rational question, but the spider stirred; it wanted Krychek’s attention off Soleil, the protective urge as deadly as the weapon in his boot. “She can pull me off the island. All other connections are severed or blocked the instant I set foot on it.”
Krychek didn’t ask him to explain the nature of his bond with Soleil, just gave a short nod. Soleil, meanwhile, was staring at Krychek out of the corner of her eye—and he might’ve thought it the stare of prey waiting for a predator to strike, except that her claws were out, and very visible against the wood of the table.
A silent warning that she had teeth.
And she would use those teeth to protect Ivan.
He still hadn’t worked out how to process her protectiveness. But it would have to wait, because he couldn’t afford to be distracted with Krychek only inches from him. “I’m happy to feed you information from the island,” he said. “The people on it will all die if we don’t get them out.”
“Four already have,” Krychek said, his tone unchanging. “All four were elderly. They succumbed in the hour directly after the separation. Scarabs also took an anchor who falls into that demographic: Ager Lii is currently in a coma, their vital signs weakening and their anchor region being stabilized by others around them.”
Ivan didn’t need the cardinal to spell it out. He’d heard Canto say more than once that there weren’t enough anchors to go around. They couldn’t afford to lose any of them. “Any chance Ager Lii went with the Scarabs by choice?”
Kaleb shook his head. “According to Payal, Ager was too content with their life to risk it. The anchors don’t have enough data on the other four As on the island to make a call about whether any of them did it by choice.”
Ivan didn’t like to think of the elder A locked inside their mind and body when Ager had only just found freedom. Ivan didn’t understand all of what had occurred with the anchors recently, but he’d picked up enough from Canto to know that Ager, in the twilight of their life, deserved a chance to enjoy those years after a lifetime of selfless service.
A tap on his foot, a whisper of fur against his skin.
Flicking up his gaze, he met Soleil’s … but she was still watching Krychek, her eyes slightly narrowed. Yet the glide of fur against his skin, it continued on, a phantom caress. Because his Lei was always with him and he was becoming possessive of that gift. Possessive enough to make a very bad decision if he wasn’t careful.
“How can I assist you?” Ivan did well with defined goals, because a goal allowed him to create a plan of attack. “What do you need to know?”
“The only way to get those people out is to collapse the island,” Krychek said. “All our models state that their minds will immediately reconnect to the largest available psychic network.”
Ivan could see the logic in that—Psy minds needed biofeedback to survive; their brains would begin the search for a new network the instant their current one shut down. “So you want me to either find a way to collapse it myself—or get you data that allows you to collapse it.”
“Concisely put.” Krychek rose, buttoning up his suit jacket as he did so. “When can you next enter the island?”
“Not today, that’s for sure.” Soleil’s voice was harder than he’d ever heard it—and she didn’t lower her gaze even when Krychek pinned her with his. “He almost fried himself the first time around. He goes in now and he’ll be dead.”
Krychek stared at Soleil for a long moment, then said, “Healer.”
Soleil smiled—and it was full of teeth, her eyes no longer human.
“I’ll leave you two to work out the logistics,” Krychek said, “but there is a time limit on this. Ager Lii is apt to last two days at most, the others in comas an additional forty-eight hours beyond that if we’re lucky.”
Krychek teleported out on that chilling statement.
Soleil, her fur yet ruffled, snarled. “It’s like talking to a shark. No, strike that. I met a changeling shark once—she was ruthless, but she was also passionate about her clan. Krychek, on the other hand …” She shivered.
“He has what changelings would call a mate,” Ivan said after a pause to allow the waitress to deliver their food; it was obvious no one had wanted to approach their table while Krychek was present.
“I know.” The ocelot retreated from her gaze. “So does Hawke of the SnowDancer wolves. Some women must like to flirt with death while they’re naked.”
Ivan stared at her.
She looked back, blinked. “Oh.” A grin. “Oops. I keep forgetting I’m one of them.” A fading of her smile, her eyes sliding from human to ocelot again as she said, “I’ve been alone so very long, Ivan. I have such an ache within. But only for you.”
Inside Soleil, her cat curled up into a tight ball. Its pain was intense. The lack of intimate touch in her life … of any affectionate touch over the time since she’d woken in her hospital bed, it had hurt, and it still hurt.
Skin privileges were an integral part of an adult changeling’s life. Changelings weren’t human or Psy, needed the physical contact to thrive. Soleil had been lucky enough to have had affection and friendship in her life, but she’d never found a true lover. Any intimate skin privileges she’d exchanged had been with generous and kind friends who’d sensed her touch hunger and offered to assuage it.
A thing of comfort rather than carnal pleasure.
Soleil treasured their gift of touch, but she’d always wondered if there was something wrong with her that she’d never experienced the carnal heat that so many of her kind talked about, the storm of the blood that made a cat want to scratch and bite and mark her lover.
Her eyes flicked up to meet those of searing iceblue, the banked heat in them scalding. And her panties went damp, her cat arching its back inside her. Nope, there was absolutely nothing wrong with her. She’d just had to find the right man. “I want to bite you,” she said, the words falling out of her mouth before she was aware of thinking them.
He said, “I’ve never been naked with anyone.” Words potent with tension, that dangerous gaze never moving off her. “Sex was verboten under Silence.”
The entire world retreated, the silence a paradoxical roar in her ears. Breath coming faster, she just stared at him, unable to imagine that this lethal, beautiful man had never shared his body with a lover. But then … he didn’t share much of himself at all, did he? Shields and walls, those were the things that composed Ivan.
“What?” It came out a strangled sort of word, her voice rough. “Not even after the fall?” Her cat snarled in jealousy at the idea of anyone else touching him, but it was also mad that he’d denied himself the comfort of such intensive physical contact.
As a healer, she knew just how much touch meant, not only to changelings but to humans. Humans didn’t need it to the same extent as a changeling, but they withered without it all the same.
